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 THE WORKS 
 
 SHAKESPEAEE.
 
 THE HENRY IBVINO SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKE SPEAEE 
 
 n 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 HENRY IRVING and FRANK A. MARSHALL 
 
 WITH 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTIONS TO EACH PLAY BY F. A. MARSHALL 
 
 AND OTHER SHAKESPEARIAN SCHOLARS, 
 
 AND LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE BY EDWARD DOWDEN, LL.D. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON BROWNE 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 BLACKIE & SON, Limited, 50 OLD BAILEY, E.G. 
 
 GLASGOW. EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN. 
 
 1898
 
 
 PEE F AC E. 
 
 Although the General Introduction must be left till the completion of 
 the Work, it is necessary to say a few words here with regard to the 
 various distinctive features of this edition, for the invention of wliich I am 
 - chiefly responsible. The guiding principle, which has been kept in view 
 throughout, is the treatment of Shakespeare's work as that of a dramatist, 
 whose plays were intended not to be read as poetical exercises, but to be 
 ^ represented by living men and women before a general audience. Mr. 
 ^- Irving having, in his Introduction, treated Shakespeare as a playwright, 
 Sc that is to say a practical writer of plays, it is not necessary for me to 
 say any more on this point. I would simply point out that, in accordance 
 with this principle, there Avill be found in this edition more explicit stage 
 directions than there are in other modern editions of Shakespeare. But 
 . they are not so many aS might be expected; because, after all, Shake- 
 -s speare's text contains in itself the best stage directions, and because 
 ^ many points bearing upon gesture or by-play of the actor have been 
 _ pointed out in the notes. Again, before adopting any emendation, the 
 -I fact that the words have to be spoken and not read has always been 
 3 borne in mind; and therefore no alteration of the text has been made 
 t without considering the requirements, not only of the sense and metre, 
 but also of what may be called the dramatic rhythm; that is to say, the 
 rhythm which the sentiment or passion of the words may require in 
 order to be spoken with due dramatic effect. The superiority of Shake- 
 speare as a dramatist can onh^ be fully appreciated by reading his plays 
 aloud; and therefore every assistance has been given to the reader by 
 marking those words, or syllables, which, contrary to ordinary usage, 
 are to be accented by the speaker. 
 
 431872
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 It is with the ohject of assisting tliose who read Shakespeare aloud, 
 either in private or in pubhe, tliat those passages which may be omitted 
 in the recitation or representation of the plays, as suggested by Mr. Ir\ing, 
 have been marked in a clear and simple manner. Mr. C, Flower of 
 Stratford-on-Avon has published some twenty of the plays separately, 
 in which the passages generally omitted on the stage are printed in a 
 smaller type; but there has been hitherto no edition in which this 
 practice has been adopted throughout. Some of Shakespeare's plays 
 have been already published by Mr. Irving as prepared by him t\u' 
 dramatic purposes; but the passages omitted in this edition will not be 
 found always to correspond with those omitted in Mr. Irving's Lyceum 
 editions, and, of course, tlie transpositions of scenes cannot be marked. 
 In fact this edition does not pretend to be, as many paragraphs in the 
 newspapers have announced, an acting edition of Shakespeare; but what 
 we do claim for it is that, while giving the whole of Shakespeare's text, 
 anyone with the aid of this edition could easily prepare an acting version 
 of any of the plays either for private or public representation; and also 
 tliat it affords most necessary help to those who wish to read Shakespeare 
 aloud, either at home or on the platform. It need scarcely be pointed out 
 that these omissions are not merely such as would be made in a so-called 
 "Bowdlerized" edition: but the passages placed between brackets are 
 those which may, without any detriment to the story or action of the 
 play, be left out. Anyone who, without any practical knowledge or stage 
 experience, has trie<l to an-ange a scene of Shakespeare for the purpose of 
 public reading, will know how dithcult it is to mark the omissions which 
 are necessaiy without intci-rnpting the s('(|U('ncc of the story, or obscuring 
 its intelligibility. 
 
 The treatment of words ending in cd has been slightly different from 
 that employed by most modern editors. The First Folio (1()28) lias been 
 followed, except in very few instances. With i-egard to the elisicm of 
 the final syllable of such words, not only in the verse portions l)ut 
 also in the prose portions of the plays, the greatest care would seem 
 to have been exercised by the editors of the First Folio; a most impor- 
 tant point, it need scarcely be said, as far as the actor or speaker of
 
 PEEFACE. vii 
 
 the verse is concerned. In the prose portions tlie tinal ed seems to be 
 generally elided when the speaker is speaking familiarly. It may he 
 therefore as well to note that, wherever it is not e^lided in this edition, 
 the syllable ed is supposed to be pronounced l)y the reader. Words 
 ending in ion, as "action," "confusion," &c., must not be pronounced in 
 the usual slovenly way in vogue nowada3^s, as if they were spelt 
 " acsliun," " confushun," Ijut as if the ion were the two last syllables 
 of a dactyl. If attention is not paid to this rule, some of the lines of 
 Shakespeare will be curtailed of one syllable where the poet did not 
 intend it. 
 
 The foot-notes have been confined to the translation of any foreign or 
 Latin words occurring in the text, and to the explanation of such words 
 as would not be I'eadily understood hy an ordinary reader; the object 
 V)einir to prevent the necessitv of turnino- to the notes, at the end of each 
 play, for explanation of any one word the meaning of which such reader 
 might not know. The number of such foot-notes has been limited as 
 nnich as possible ; l)ut it was thought better to err on the side of explain- 
 ing too many words rather than too few, although such explanations will 
 doubtless seem quite unnecessary to those who are well accpiainted with 
 the language of Shakespeare. 
 
 For the convenience of the student, as well as of the general reader, 
 the Introductions have been divided into three heads: (1) "The Literary 
 History," which treats of the various early editions of the plays and the 
 source whence the plot, or dialogue, may have been wholly, or in part, 
 borrowed. (2) " The Stage History," — which I regret to say is, in many 
 cases, very scanty, as we have so few early records of the representations 
 of Sliakesj)eare's plays — giving an account of any remarkable stage 
 versions of the plays Avhich may have been produced, as well as some 
 notice of the most remarkable performances and of any notable cast. 
 (3) " The Critical Remarks," in which I have purposely abstained from 
 (juoting the criticisms of others. It appears to me that such a practice 
 is neither advantageous to the reader, nor to the writers from whom 
 such criticism, necessarily more or less mutilated, may be taken; and 
 I venture to presume that an editor who has been studying a play
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 closely, and li\ing, as it were, with the \"ari()us characters, ouglit to 
 have something worth saying on his own account without giving the 
 opinions of others. 
 
 For the Time Analysis given at the beginning of each play I am 
 indebted to Mr. P. A. Daniel's wt)rk on that subject, for which all students 
 of Shakespeare should feel grateful to the author. 
 
 With regard to the text itself it is, as will be seen, no mere reprint of 
 any former editi<m, though we have taken as our model Dyce (third 
 edition), who seems to hit the just medium between slavish adherence to 
 the old copies and a reckless adoption of modern emendations. The early 
 printed Quartos of Shakespeare's plays, nearly all of which w^ere surrep- 
 titiously pul)lished, are, no doubt, of great value in correcting some of the 
 errors in the First Folio, and in supplying passages omitted in that edition, 
 which was mainly founded on the copies of the plays that existed in the 
 theatre of which Shakespeare had been part manager. In all cases where 
 the original text either of Quartos or Folios has not been followed, 
 reasons have been given for such a course in the notes; and whenever 
 we have ventured to print any original emendation, the fact has been 
 pointed out in the list of such emendations appended to each play; so 
 that the critical reader may see at t)nce what innovations have been 
 introduced into this text. They will be found to be comparatively few, 
 and we trust, in no case, will be considered rash or unnecessary. Great 
 attention has been paid to the punctuation of the text, a point neglected 
 by some modern editors, especially with regard to the use of commas, 
 which are most important as guides to the reader or reciter, and to the 
 actor are positively necessary. 
 
 The maps to be found prefixed to the notes of many of the plays are, 
 it is believed, quite a new feature. They will be found useful for the 
 purposes of reference in the historical plays, and will enable the reader 
 to follow the incidents of those plays with greater ease; while even 
 in the non-historical plays, they will serve to illustrate some of the 
 notes. 
 
 As for the notes themselves, I should have liked to have separated 
 those which relate purely to diserepancifs or errors in the various texts,
 
 +■ 
 
 PREFACE. ix 
 
 as well as those which relate to questions of grammar or pliilology, from 
 the general notes. But it was thought advisable, after mature considera- 
 tion, not to make any such distinction. No difficulty has been con- 
 sciously shirked: while it has been borne in mind that the difficulties, 
 which may exist for the general reader who is unacquainted with the 
 literature of the Ehzabethan age, might easily escape the notice of those 
 familiar with such literature. In a work like this, intended for the 
 general public, it is better, perhaps, that the notes should be too many 
 rather than too few. In all cases where it is possible, Shakespeare's 
 meaning has been explained b}^ reference to some one or other of his 
 contemporaries; and, whenever practicable, all quotations have been taken 
 from the works of the author quoted, and have been carefully verified. 
 The notes referring to subjects connected with natural history or botany 
 have been made ampler than is usual in most editions; for Shakespeare's 
 references to the animals and plants of liis native laud cannot but be 
 interesting to the general reader, if only as showing how cl'-sely he 
 observed objects in the country, and studied them with as much loving- 
 attention as he did the characters of men and women in the town. Many 
 of the popular superstitions, that existed with regard to the wild animals 
 and flowers in Shakespeare's time, still exist. On this subject my obli- 
 gation to such writers as Harting and Ellacombe will be sufficiently 
 apparent from the notes. 
 
 One word as to the notes on the Dramatis Personfe, prefixed to the 
 historical plays. Richard II. had already been printed when, in pre- 
 paring the notes for King John, it occurred to me that it would be 
 very advantageous to give all the information referring to the Dramatis 
 Personse together at the beginning of the notes. In order to accomplish 
 this the publishers did not hesitate to recast all the notes of Richard II., 
 though they had already been stereotyped. This is only one of many 
 instances in which they have spared neither trouble nor expense to carry 
 out the various details of the plan suggested by me. Mr. George Russell 
 French's excellent book, Shakespeariana Genealogica, suggested this idea 
 to me; and if I have been able, by the assistance of other books, to 
 supplement the information given by him in that valuable work, it does
 
 X PEEFACE. ^ 
 
 not lessen the obligation which I owe to his labours. No pains have 
 been spared in trying to obtain the utmost accuracy in these notes; but 
 the task of tracing the intermarriages between the various noble families 
 during the Wars of the Roses is one of the greatest difficulty. 
 
 The lists of words peculiar to each play — that is to say, the words 
 which are found only in that play, or in the poems of Shakespeare — 
 will, I trust, prove not merely interesting but u.seful to students of 
 the language of Shakespeare. It will be seen that the proportion of 
 such words is much larger in some plays than in others, and in those 
 plays (the three parts of Henry VI. for instance), of ^^•llich we know 
 Shakespeare to have been only i)art author, it is possible that, through 
 the medium of the words distinctly peculiar which occur in those 
 plays, we may be assisted in the solution of the vexed question as to 
 who were his collaborators. We may be able also, through the exam- 
 ination of these words, to trace, in some measure, under what literary 
 influence Shakespeare was when writing any particular play; and 
 by distinguishing between those words which are merely incidental to 
 any particular character, — such, for instance, as the attected pedant Holo- 
 fernes in Love's Labour 's Lost — and those which are employed b}- tlu- 
 author, when writing as a poet rather than as a dramatist, one may 
 arrive at some interesting internal evidence as to the period of Shake- 
 speare's career to which the various plays belong. For instance, if we 
 find in any play several words used, which occur more than once in the 
 Sonnets or the Poems, we may assign such a play more confidently, if the 
 other evidence, external or internal, coincides, to his earlier period. 
 
 The plays have been arranged in this edition, as nearly as possible in 
 the order in which they are supposed to have been written by Shake- 
 speare. But, as is well known, the opinions of the best authorities difllr 
 verj' much as to what the exact order of such an an-ano-ement oudit to 
 be. Our object has been to give in each volume as much variety as is 
 possible, consistent with those principles, to which we consider we shall 
 have sufficiently adhered, if we have kept together those plays which 
 belong to the three periods into which Shakespeare's literary career is 
 generally divided, viz. the early, the middle, and tlie last period.
 
 , PREFACE. xi 
 
 For the delay which has occurred in the production of this h)ng- 
 promised edition I fear I must be held respon.sible. The causes which 
 have led to such delay have been various; but it is not necessary for nie 
 to specify them. The publishers have been fortunate enough to secure 
 the hearty co-operation of more than one Shakespearian scholar, whose 
 names will be a sufficient guarantee of the excellence of their work, and 
 without whose aid I could not have had any hope of bringing the work 
 to a conclusion for some years to come. 
 
 It only remains for me to express my heartiest thanks for the kind 
 and courteous help afforded me by such distinguished editors of Shake- 
 speare as Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps and Dr. Furnivall, and others, to whom 
 grateful acknowledgment will be more fitly made at the conclusion of 
 the work. 
 
 Finally, as gratitude is said to be " a lively sense of favours to come," 
 I will thank, by anticipation, those who shall be kind enough to correct 
 any errors they may detect in this edition, or to supply any information 
 on points left partially or wholly unexplained. Any communications 
 addressed either to the pulilishers or to me shall receive the fullest 
 attention. 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL. 
 
 London, November, 1887.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Shakespeare as a Playwright, by Henry Irving, xvii 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST, 1 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS, 73 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA, 121 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET, 177 
 
 KING HENRY VL— PART L, 257 
 
 PASSAGES AND SCENES ILLUSTEATED. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. lines 119, 1"20, . . 7 
 
 Biron {reads]. "Item, that uo woman shall 
 come within a mile of my court." 
 
 Act I. scene 1. lines 189, 190, . . 10 
 
 Dull. . . . There's villauy aI)ro:ul: this letter 
 will tell you more. 
 
 Act I. scene 2. lines 146, 147, . . 13 
 
 Ann. I love thee. 
 
 Jaq. So I heard you say. 
 
 Act II. scene 1. line 1, . . .15 
 
 Boyet. Now, madam, summon np your dearest spirits. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. lines 1, 2, . . 19 
 
 Ann. Warble, child; make passionate my sense 
 of hearing. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. lines 162, 163, . . 21 
 
 Biron. Hark, slave, it is but this. 
 
 Act IV. scene 2. line 13, . .25 
 
 Hoh Most barbarous intimation ! 
 
 Act IV. scene 3. lines 1 29, 130, . . 29 
 
 Long. [advuncingX . . . You may look pale, but 
 I should blush, I know, 
 To be o'erbeard, and taken napping so. 
 
 Act IV. scene 3. line 152, 
 
 31 
 
 Biron [advancing]. . 
 thee, pardon me ! 
 
 Ah, good my liege, I praj' 
 
 Act V. scene 1. line 37, . . . 34 
 
 Arm. Men of peace, well encountered. 
 
 Act V. scene 2. line 29, . . . 37 
 
 Prill. M'ell bandied both ; a set of wit well playVl. 
 
 Act V. scene 2. lines 94, 95, . . 39 
 
 Boyet. I stole into a neighbour thicket by. 
 And overheard what you shall overhear. 
 
 Act V. scene 2. line 230, . . 40 
 
 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word 
 with thee. 
 
 Act V. scene 2. lines 383, 384, . . 43 
 
 Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess ! 
 Bos. All the fool miue? 
 
 Act V. scene 2. lines 72.3-725, (Etchinrj) 48 
 
 Mer. God save j-ou, madam ! 
 Prin. AVelcome, Mercade, but that thou inter- 
 ruptest our merriment. 
 
 Tailpiece, Returning from the Revels, 
 
 51
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. lines 95, 96, . . 79 
 
 ^■Ej/e. O, let me siy no more I 
 Gather the sequel hy that went Ijofnre. 
 
 Act I. scene 2. line 91, . . . S2 
 
 Ant. S. What, wilt thmi flout me thus unto my face? 
 
 Act II. scene 1. lines 87, 88, . . 85 
 
 Adi: His company must do his minions grace. 
 Whilst 1 at home starve for a merry look. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. lines 32, 33, . . 89 
 
 Dro. S. Jlome, malt-horse, ('apon, coxcomb, idiot, patcli ! 
 Kither get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. 
 
 Act III. scene 2. line 29, 
 
 Ant. S. Sweet mistress,— what your name is els 
 1 know not. 
 
 91 
 
 Act III. scene 2. lines 71, 72, 
 
 Ant. a. Why, how now, Dromio ; where ruun'st 
 thou so fast ? 
 
 Act IV, scene 2. line 32, . 
 
 1)1-9. S. 'So, he's in Tartar liml>o, worse than hell. 
 
 93 
 
 Act IV. scene 4. line 110, 
 
 (Etching/) lUl 
 
 J'iiich. More comjiany I— The fiend is strong within 
 liim. 
 
 Act Y. scene 1. line 133,. . .104 
 
 AJi: Justice, most sacred duke, against the ahbtss : 
 
 Act V. scene 2. lines 423, 42.5, . .108 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, then, thus : 
 . . . let's go hand in hand, not one before another. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Act V. scene 4. lines 1-3, 
 
 Vul. How use doth breed a habit in a man ! 
 These shadowy, desert, unfreciuented woods, 
 I better brook than nourishing peopled towns. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. lines 61, 62, 
 
 Pi'i). AH happiness bechance to thee in Jlilau I 
 Val. As much to you at home 1 and so, farewell. 
 
 127 
 
 129 
 
 132 
 
 Act I. scene 2. line 108, . 
 
 Jul. Ill kiss each several paper for amends. 
 
 Act I. scene 3. lines 84, 85, . .133 
 
 Flo. 0, how this spring of love resembleth 
 The uncertain glory of an April day. 
 
 Act II. scene 3. lines 16-18, .137 
 
 Lannce. Nay, 1 '11 show you tlie iiiauucr of it. Tliis 
 shoe is my father : no, this left shoe is my father. 
 
 Act II. scene 4. lines 23-26, . .139 
 
 Sil. What, angry. Sir Thurio ! do you change colour? 
 Val. Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon. 
 
 Act II. scene 5. lines 40, 41, . . 142 
 
 Luiince. Thou shall never get such a secret from 
 me but by a parable. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. lines 4, 5, . . 145 
 
 Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would discover 
 The law of friendship bids me to conceal. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. lines 157, 158, . 
 
 JJiike. (io, basj intruder! overweening slave ! 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal nu.tc--. 
 
 Act IV. scene 1. line 3, . 
 
 Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you liavi 
 about ye. 
 
 14/ 
 
 l.v2 
 
 Act IV. scene 4. line 29, . . . 156 
 
 Luxmct. "Friend," quoth I, "you mean to whip 
 the dog? " 
 "Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. 
 
 Act IV. scene 4. lines 203, 204, . . 1 59 
 
 ■Jul. O thou senseless form 
 
 Thou shalt lie worshipp'il, kiss'd, lovd and ador'd ! 
 
 Act V. scene 4. lines 60, 61, {Etchhui) 161 
 
 Vul. Ruffian, let co that rude uncivil touch, 
 Thou friend of an ill fnsliiou 1 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. line 74, . . .185 
 
 Ti/h. Turn thee, Beuvolio, look uiion thy deatli. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. line 51, . . . 186 
 
 Ahr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 
 
 Act I. scene 1. line 231, . . .189 
 
 Uin. He nilil by me. forget to think of her. 
 
 Act I. scene 3. line 5, . . .192 
 
 Enter JiLlET. 
 
 Act I. scene 4. line 53, . {Etching) 194 
 
 Mer. O, then, I see. Queen Mab hath been with you. 
 
 Act II. scene 2. line 33, . . .199 
 
 .Jul. Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Act II. scene 4. lines 150, 151, 
 
 ■20i 
 
 iter. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,— [sidyiHy] 
 lady, lady, lady. 
 
 Act III. scene 1. line 130, . .210 
 
 Rom. Now, Tybalt, take the " villain " back again. 
 
 Act III. scene 3. lines 74, 75, . . 215 
 
 Fri. L. Romeo, arise ! — Thou wilt be taken. 
 
 Act III. scene 5. line 51, . . 218 
 
 Jul. O, thiuk'st thou we shall ever meet again? 
 
 Act IV. scene 1. line 121, . . 223 
 
 Jul. Give me, give me '. O, tell nut me »l fear ! 
 
 Act IV. scene 3. line 58, 
 
 Jul. Romeo: I come. This do I drink to thee 
 
 Act V. scene 1. line 37, . 
 
 Rttm. I do remember an apothecary. 
 
 Act V. scene 3. line 72, . 
 
 Par. 0, I am slain! 
 
 Act V. scene 3. line 121, . 
 
 Fri. L. Saint Francis be ray speed : 
 
 Act V. .scene 3. lines 309, 310, . 
 
 Prince. For never was a story of mnn- woe 
 Than this of .Juliet and her Romeo. 
 
 XV 
 
 225 
 229 
 231 
 233 
 235 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 Act I. scene 1. line 18, . . . 265 
 
 Exe. Henry is dead, and never shall revive. 
 
 Act I. scene 2. lines 76-78, . . 269 
 
 Pile. Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, 
 . And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, 
 God's mother deigned to appear to me. 
 
 Act I. scene 3. lines 45-47, . . 271 
 
 Glo. AVhat! am I dar"d and bearded to my face? 
 Draw, men, fur all this privileged place ; 
 Blue coats to tawny.— Priest, beware your beard. 
 
 Act I. scene 4. line 11, . . .273 
 
 Jf. Gim. In yonder tower, to o'erpeer the city. 
 
 Act II. scene 1. lines 26, 27, . . 277 
 
 Tal. God is our fortress, in whose conquering name 
 Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 
 
 Act II. scene 3. lines 16, 17, . . 280 
 
 Count. Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad 
 That with his name the mothers still their babes? 
 
 Act II. scene 5. line 122, . . 284 
 
 Plan. Here dies the dusky torch of Murtimer. 
 
 Act III. scene 3. line 1, . . . 290 
 
 Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident. 
 
 Act IV. scene 1. lines 45, 46, . . 295 
 
 King. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy donni! 
 Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight. 
 
 Act IV. scene 5. lines 1, 2, . . 298 
 
 Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee 
 'I'o tutor thee In stratagems of war. 
 
 Act IV. scene 7. line 32, . . . 302 
 
 Tal. Xow my old arms are young Jnhn Talbot's grave. 
 
 Act V. scene 3. lines 110, 111, (Etehinfj) 306 
 
 Snf. Say, gentle princess, would you not supi)Ose 
 Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? 
 
 Act V. scene 5. lines 1, 2, . .310 
 
 King. Your wondrous rare description, noble enrl. 
 Of beauteous Margaret hath astonishd me. 
 
 Act V. scene 5. line 103, . . .311 
 
 .■>'t(/. Thus Suffolk hath prevaild.
 
 SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. 
 
 -*»<3>^0<t>- 
 
 I daresay that it will appear to some readers a profanation of the 
 name of Shakespeare to couple with it the title of playwright. But 
 I have chosen this title for my introduction because I am anxious to 
 show that with the mighty genius of the poet was united, in a remark- 
 able degree, the capacity for writing plays intended to be acted as well 
 as read. One often finds that the very persons who claim most to 
 reverence Shakespeare, not only as a poet but also as a dramatist, 
 carry that reverence to such an extent that they would almost forbid 
 the representation of his plays upon the stage, except under conditions 
 which are, if not impossible, certainly impracticable. 
 
 Shakespeare was one of the most practical dramatists which the world 
 has ever seen, and this notwithstanding that he lived in an age when 
 the drawbacks which existed to the proper representation of stage plays 
 were very many. It must not be thought that in claiming for him 
 this quality one necessarily detracts, in the slightest degree, from his 
 greater qualities as a poet. But surely the end of all plays is to be 
 acted, and not to be simply read in the study. It is no reproach 
 against a dramatist, whose object it is to produce plays, that he should 
 prove himself a good playwright; for that is only equivalent to saying 
 that he does his work well. Indeed there is no reason why we should 
 praise him as a dramatist if his plays will not bear acting. During 
 his lifetime Shakespeare took extraordinary pains to prevent his plays 
 being published: not that he feared the literary test, but because 
 it diminished their value as works for the stage, inasmuch as it enabled 
 other companies, in which he was not interested, to act them without 
 his deriving any profit. It is (juite possible that, had Shakespeare lived,
 
 xviii SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. 
 
 lie would liave brought out an edition of his plays as literary works, 
 and would have bestowed upon their revision the greatest care. But, 
 unfortunately, if such was his purpose, he did not live to fulfil it; and 
 the consequence is that to the actors, and not to the ingenious pub- 
 lishers wh(j "conveyed" his plays into print, we owe the preservation 
 of the complete dramatic works of William Shakespeare. If his plays 
 had not been successful in the staging, if they had not been frecjuently 
 represented in action, we may venture to say that only a very few 
 of them would have come down to us. It was surely on account 
 of their popularity as acting plays that they were published without 
 the author's consent. There can be no better test of the skill of a 
 playwright than that his work should be popular, not only in his own 
 time, but also with posterity, and in countries where the language 
 in which he wrote is almost unknown. It must be admitted that 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, and Ben Jonson, were considered superior to 
 Shakespeare by many persons, both during his lifetime and for some 
 considerable time after his death. Yet, as far as we can discover, in 
 his own day, Shakespeare more than held his own; and, with the 
 exception of a period after the Restoration, when the worst taste in 
 dramatic literature prevailed, Shakespeare's popularity has ever since 
 increased; while that of Beaumont and Fletcher, Ben Jonson, Marlowe, 
 Chapman, and all his other contemporaries, has declined, till, at the 
 present time, their plays have almost ceased to be represented on 
 the stage. 
 
 It is fortunate that we have the means of practically testing 
 Shakespeare's excellence as a playwright by comparing his work with 
 the old plays which he used as materials. Take, for example, " The 
 Taming of the Shrew," in which, as Shakespeare's adaptation resem- 
 ]>les the original so very closely iKjth in plot and in the principal 
 characters, we have a very gt)od opportunity of judging his capacity 
 by reading the old play side by side with his own. In Mr. Marshall's 
 notes to this edition there will be found many instances of the skill 
 which Shakespeare has shown, not only in important modifications in 
 the language of that play, but also in the action. In King John
 
 SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWKIGHT. xix 
 
 anil King- Lear it is scarcely jDossible to recognize the crude originals 
 as transformed by Shakespeare's genius. There are, indeed, many 
 plays which, though not suggested by the work of other dramatists, 
 as far as we know, were founded on stories which fortunately have 
 been preserved to us. In these we can see wath what unerring tact 
 Shakespeare selected the most effective incidents for treatment on the 
 stage, with what wide and deep knowledge of human nature he brought 
 to life the characters of history, and how thoroughly he knew the 
 greatest secret of a successful dramatist — how to enlist the sympathies of 
 an audience for his hero or heroine, without making them prodigies 
 of consistent virtue. It is with Shakespeare's heroes and heroines, 
 as it is in real life; those we love the best have the least pretension 
 to perfection; we love them all the more for their inconsistencies and 
 their faults; perhaps because their very defects make us acknowledge 
 them the more readily as our fellow-creatures. In this human imper- 
 fection of character lies much of the fascination of Hamlet. Equally 
 striking is the effective use which Shakespeare makes of a situation, 
 when he finds one in the story on wliich he has founded his plot, 
 or invents one for himself. In nothing is the instinct of a true 
 dramatist more forcibly exemplified. It is a common experience that 
 a play which is excellent in all other respects, often falls short of 
 success because the writer either fails to recognise a situation, when 
 it naturally <jccurs, or, if he do recognise it, is unable to turn it to 
 the best account. 
 
 Of the stage traditions of Shakespeare we know nothing, though 
 we are told they descended from Burbage, Taylor, and Lowin to 
 Davenant, and were given b}' him to Betterton. For fifty j^ears 
 Betterton held the position of the greatest actor of his day; and 
 during that half-century, although the prejudices and predilections 
 of the literary taste of the day were alike hostile to Shakespeare's 
 works, Betterton had only to appear in Mercutio, Macbeth, or, above 
 all, in Hamlet to draw the town. It was not till after the Restoration 
 that the idea seems generally to have prevailed that Shakespeare 
 wanted improving: that, in order to be acted, his plays must be adapted
 
 XX SHAKESPEAEE AS A PLAY WEIGHT. 
 
 by some literary genius of that day. Even Dryden, great poet as lie 
 was, and sincere admirer of Shakespeare, did his best to spoil The 
 Tempest; while such inferior men as Davenant, Crowne, and, later 
 on. Gibber, found a congenial task in degrading as much as possible 
 the poetry of Shakespeare to the level of connnonplace. Anyone 
 who is interested in these labours will find the fruits of them in 
 such pieces as Davenant's Law against Lovers (a fusion of Measure 
 for Measure and Much Ado), and his version of Macbeth; Crowne's 
 Miseries of Civil War (Henri/ VI.); Colley Gibber's Papal Tyranny 
 (King John), and his bombastic Richard III. Even in Garrick's 
 day the public, which eagerly applauded his acting, and welcomed his 
 purer and wholesomer style of dramatic art, continued to tolerate 
 mutilated versions of the works of our greatest dramatist; Garrick 
 himself supplying a version of Romeo and Juliet. There is an old 
 engraving representing Mr. Holman and Miss Brunton in the scene 
 at Gapulct's tomb. Underneath this picture are these lines: — 
 
 J)iliet. — You fright me . . . Speak . . . O, let me hear .some voice 
 
 Besides my own in this drear vault of death, 
 
 Or I shall faint. . . Support me . . . 
 
 Romeo.— . . O, I cannot . . I have no strength . . but want 
 
 Thy feeble aid. . . Cruel poison I 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 It will puzzle the reader to find this passage in an}' edition of 
 the dramatist; and yet there is no doubt that many persons in all inno- 
 cence accepted these words as having been written by Shakespeare. 
 
 It is well known that for many years Gibber's Richard III. 
 was the only version of that play with which the majority of Eng- 
 lishmen were acquainted; indeed, Porson said that for one man who 
 knew Shakespeare's play there were more than ten who knew only 
 Gibber's; and the inflated commonplaces of the latter were accepted 
 as the work of the great poet himself. 
 
 All the principal comedies were, at one time or other, mo.st reck- 
 lessly manipulated ; while of the tragedies, Romeo and Juliet, Lear, and 
 Macbeth suffered much from these improvers of our poet. Perhaps, if 
 we were asked to name the ideal representative of Hamlet, we should say
 
 SHAKESPEAEE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. xxi 
 
 Betterton was the actor who seems to have satislied most full}^ the fasti- 
 (hous requh-ements of such intellectual lights as Diyden, Steele, and Pope, 
 and who enjoyed the advantage, as has already been said, of having 
 leceived, only at second hand, the poet's own ideas as to the mode of 
 realizing on the stage his great creation. Yet to those who have always 
 been ready to believe that Betterton, even when comparatively an old 
 man, was the best representative of Hamlet, it is humiliating to tind, on 
 examinino- the acting text which was in use at his theatre, that the 
 greatest liberties were taken with the author's language. In many plays 
 of Shakespeare the omission of passages, the moditication of certain 
 words or phrases, and the transposition of some scenes, are all absolutely 
 necessary before they can be acted; but the popular taste nowadays 
 A\()ukl not permit an actor to take such liberties with the text as were 
 once thought not only pardonable but commendable; and indeed, the 
 more the actor plays Shakespeare, the more he must be convinced that 
 to attempt to improve the language of our greatest dramatist is a very 
 hopeless task. 
 
 Much objection has been made to the employment of the sister arts 
 of music and painting in the stage representation of Shakespeare, and to 
 the elaborate illustrations of the countries in which the various scenes 
 are laid, or of the dress and surroundings of the different characters. 
 I do not contend that a pla^', fairly acted, cannot be fully effective 
 without any of these aids and adjuncts. But, practically, their value has 
 ceased to be a matter of opinion; they have become necessary. They are 
 dictated by the public taste of the day— not by the desire for mere 
 scenic display, but that demand for finish in details which has grown 
 with the development of art in all its phases. A painter who shcjuld 
 neglect truthful detail, however broad and powerful his method, would 
 nowadays be exposed to severe criticism. This is not a proof of 
 decadence; it is a striving after completeness. The stage has become 
 not only a mirror of the passions, but also a nursery of the arts, for 
 here students of the past learn the form and colour of the costumes 
 and the decorations of distant ages. To all this there are clear limits. 
 It is not always possible to reproduce an historic period with exactness.
 
 xxii SHAKESPEARE AS A PLAYWKlGH'i'. 
 
 Macbeth, and Lear, and Handet belong to history too remote tVr 
 Hdelity of costume. But a period has, in such cases, to be chosen and 
 followed with conscientious thoroughness, tempered by discrimination. 
 Above all, the resources of the pictures(|ue must be wholly subordinate 
 to the play. Mere pageant apart from the story has no place in Shake- 
 speare, although there may be a succession of truthful and harmonious 
 pictures which shall neither hamper the natural action, nor distract the 
 judgment from the actors art. In fine, there is no occasion to apologize 
 for the system of decoration. True criticism begins when the manager 
 carries ornament to excess, for then he sins against the laws of beauty as 
 well as against the poet. Tried by this standard, a successful representa- 
 tion of a Shakespeare play may be ranked as a worthy tribute to the 
 genius which commands the homage of all art, and which has laid 
 on us the memorable injunction of " an honest method, as wholesome as 
 sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine." — (Handet, ii. '2. 
 1(35-167.) 
 
 I suppose the vexed question whether bhakespeare disliked his \oca- 
 tion as an actor will never pass out of the region of controversy. We 
 shall always be told that the lament in the Sonnets over the " public 
 means which public manners breeds" marked the poet's sense of his own 
 degradation on the stage. But against this theory I would enter an 
 earnest protest. First, because it is by no means established tliat the 
 allusions in the Sonnets are personal to Shakespeare; and, secondly, 
 because they are wholly inconsistent with his masterly exposition of the 
 actor's art in Handet's well-known speech to the players. On the first 
 point there is undeniably a conflict of cultivated opinion; on the second 
 there is not, and cannot be, any dispute whatever. The players are " tin- 
 abstract and brief chronicles of the time." It is their noble function to 
 "hold tlie mirror up to nature:" and the whole scope and subtlety of 
 their art receive from Shakespeare the most apt, eloquent, and compre- 
 hensive definition. No player, who despised his calling, and solennily 
 charged fortune with the "harmful deeds" which that calling compelled 
 him to commit, could have put upon immortal record this virulication of 
 the art which was Ijotli his pride and his livelihood. No douljtful expres-
 
 SHAKESPEAKE AS A PLAYWRIGHT. xxiii 
 
 sion which escaped him can be set against the weight of his own 
 authority. You might as well say that Macbeth's 
 
 poor player 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
 And then is heard no more. 
 
 —Macbeth, v. .">. :^4-2(i. 
 
 is a ht companion for the " idiot," in the same speech, whose tale is " full 
 ( if sound and fury, signifying nothing," and that such symbols are appro- 
 priate to the undying fame of Roscius or Burbage, of David Garrick or 
 Edmund Kean. " If there is amongst the defective records of the poet's 
 life," says Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, " one feature demanding special respect, 
 it is the unflinching courage with which, notwithstanding his desire for 
 social position, he braved public opinion in favour of a continued adher- 
 ence to that which he felt was in itself a noble profession, and this at a 
 time when it was not merely despised but surrounded by an aggressive 
 fanaticism that prohibited its exercise even in his own native town." 
 The stage cannot be dissociated from Shakespeare, either as the poet or 
 as the man. It was the lever with which he moved the world: and, 
 while we accord to him the supremacy of literature, it is but just to 
 remember the practical aid he derived from his judgment and experience 
 as playwright and player.
 
 A' 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST, 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL.
 
 ^ 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSON^.i 
 
 Ferdinand, King of Navarre. 
 
 BiRON,- \ 
 
 LoNGAViLLE,-^ > Lorcls atteiuliug on the King. 
 
 DUMAIN, ' 
 
 BoYFT ) 
 
 ' . ; Lords attending on the Princess of France. 
 Mercade,-' ) 
 
 Don Adriano de Armado,'' a Spaniard. 
 
 Sir Nathaniel, a Curate. 
 
 Holofernes, a Schoohnaster. 
 
 Dull, a Constable. 
 
 Costard,^ a Clown. 
 
 Moth,* Page to Armado. 
 
 A Forester. 
 
 Princess of Frahce. 
 
 Rosaline,'' \ 
 
 Maria, > Ladies attending on the Pi'incess. 
 
 Katharine, ' 
 
 Jaquenetta, a Country "Wench. 
 
 Lords, Attenilants, &c. 
 
 The Scene is laid in Navarre. 
 
 Historical Period : about the year 1427. 
 
 TIME OF ACTION, 
 Two Days:"— First day, Acts I. and II.; Second day, Acts III. to V. 
 
 1 Dramatis Persons : first enumerated by Rowe. 
 
 2 BiRON, spelt Bcroione in Q. 1, F. 1, Q. 2: the accent is 
 invariably on the last syllable. On the title-pages of the 
 two plays of Chapman founded ou the history of the 
 celebrated Due De Birou, the name is spelt in both in- 
 stances Byron. 
 
 3 LoNOAViLLK, spelt Longavill in Q. 1, F. 1, Q. 2 ; made 
 to rhyme with ill in iv. 3. 12.3. 
 
 < BoYET, pronounced with the accent on the last syl- 
 lable; made to rhyme to debt in v. 2. 334. 
 5 Mercade, printed Marcade in Qq. and Ff. | festly right 
 
 2 
 
 c Armado, somethnes written Annallio; in Q. 1 ami 
 F. 1 often called the Brafjgart. 
 
 ? Costard, often called in Q. I, F. 1 simply Clown. 
 
 8 Moth. Grant White suggests that Moth should be 
 written Mote, " as it was clearly thus pronounced." Cer- 
 tainly mote is written moth both by Q. 1 and F. 1, in 
 iv. 3. 161. 
 
 KOSALISE, made to rhyme with thine, iv. 3. 221. 
 
 10 See Hunter's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 257 and note 41. 
 
 11 This is Ml-. T. A. Daniel's calculation, and is mani-
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 LITERARY HISTORY. 
 
 Love's Labour 's Lost was liublished for the 
 first time in quarto with the following title : — 
 
 "A I Pleasant | Conceited Comedie | called 
 I Loues labors lost. | As it was pi-esented be- 
 fore her Highnes | this last Christmas | Newly 
 corrected and augmented | By W. Shakespere. 
 Imjn-inted at London by IT. IT. \ for Ctdk- 
 bert nvA»j, 1598." 
 
 The folio edition is, more or less, a reprint 
 of this c^uarto, differing mainly in its being 
 di\'ided into acts. The Cambridge editors add, 
 "and as usual inferior in accuracy;" but in 
 that sweeping judgment I cannot agree. ^ In 
 some cases the readings of the Quarto are pre- 
 ferable, in others those of the Folio. Tlie 
 .Second Quarto (Q. 2) is rejjrinted from the 
 First Folio. 
 
 It bears the following title : — 
 
 "Loues Labours lost. | A wittie and plea- 
 sant I comedie, | As it was Acted by his Ma- 
 iesties Seruants at | the Blacke-Friers and the 
 Globe. I Written \ By "William Shakesjjeare. | 
 London, | Printed by W. S. for John Smeth- 
 v-icke, and are to be | sold at his shop in Saint 
 Dunstones Church -yard vnder the Diall. | 
 1631." 
 
 The date of this play may be fixed with 
 toleraltle accuracy about 1.589-90. It cer- 
 tainly is one of Shakespeare's earliest, if the 
 evidence, afforded by metre and style, is worth 
 anything. As compared with The Comedy of 
 EiTors, Love's Labour 's Lost has nearly twice 
 as many rhymed lines as blank verse, while 
 the former play has only one rhyme in three. 
 In the scarcity of eleven-syllable lines among 
 
 ' See Mr. FuriiivaH's admirable analysis of tlie dilTer- 
 euces between Q.l and F.l, in his " Forewords " to Griggs' 
 Facsimile of Q.l. 
 
 the blank verse ; in the quantity of doggerel 
 and of alternate rhymes, this play bears the 
 usual characteristics of Shakespeare's earliest 
 style more strongly mai'ked than The Comedy 
 of Errors or The Two Gentlemen of Verona 
 The allusions contained in Love's Labour 's 
 Lost, which help to settle the date of it, are 
 the references to "Bankes's horse" (i. 2. 57), 
 whose fii'st exhibition is said to have been in 
 1589; to "Monarcho," a crazy Italian,^ so called 
 because he claimed to be the monarch of the 
 world, to whom allusions may be found in an 
 epitaph by Churchyaixl (1580), and in A Brief 
 Discourse of the Sjianish State, 4to, 1590; as 
 well as the adoption by Shakespeare of names 
 for some of his principal chai-acters from those 
 of persons who figured prominently in French 
 politics from 1581 to 1590, such as Biron, 
 Longaville, Dumain (Due du Maine). (See S. 
 L. Lee'.s communication, given in Furnivall's 
 "Forewords" to Facshnile of First Quarto.) 
 
 This play is mentioned, in 1598, by two 
 writers ; by Meres in the well-known passage 
 in Palladis Tamia, and by Robert Tofte in 
 a poem called Alba: or the Months Minde 
 of a Melancholy Lover, who speaks of it as a 
 play he "once did see," implpng that he saw 
 it some time before. Dr. Grosart, in his edi- 
 tion of Eobert Southwell's poems (written 
 about 1594), professes to find an adaptation of 
 a passage from this play (iv. 3. 350-353) in a 
 description of the eyes of our Saviour. Drum- 
 mond of Ha^vtllornden enumerates among 
 the books he read in 1606, Loties Labors 
 Lost. 
 
 As to the source from which Shakespeare 
 derived the story of Love's Labour 's Lost, no- 
 
 2 His real name was Bergamasco, as appears from A 
 Brief Discourse of the Spanish State, Ac, 4to, ciuoted by 
 Staunton. 
 
 3
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 tiling is known. No older play on the s<ame 
 subject has yet been discovered, nor any story 
 upon which it could have been founded.' 
 Undoubtedly it was revised and altered by 
 Shakespeare, considerably, between the date of 
 its first production and that of its publication. 
 The last two acts, especially, bear unmistak- 
 able marks of the author's revision. The lines 
 (iv. 3. 299-304)- are evidently the first ver- 
 sion of the subsequent lines 320-323, and 
 350-353; as are the lines v. 2. 827-832,- of 
 lines 850-863 in the same scene. In both 
 cases the earlier versions are very nuich in- 
 ferior to the later amplifications. 
 
 STAGE HISTORY. 
 
 Very little is known of the stage history of 
 this play. From the title-page of the first 
 quarto we know that it was acted at court at 
 Christmas, 1597, before Queen Elizabeth; that 
 it was revived in 1604 we know from a letter*^ 
 of Sir Walter Cope, addressed to Lord C'rau- 
 borne, and endorsed 1604. 
 
 " I have sent and been all this morning 
 hunting for players, jugglers, and such kind 
 of creatures, but find them hard to find ; 
 wherefore, leaving notes for them to seek me, 
 Burbage is come, and says there is no new 
 play which the queen hath not seen; but they 
 have revived an old one, called Loves Lahore 
 Lost, which for wit and mirth he says will 
 please her exceedingly. And this is appointed 
 to be played to-morrow night at my Lord of 
 Southampton's, unless you send a writ to re- 
 move the corpus cum causa to your house in 
 Strand. Burbage is iny messenger. Ready at- 
 tending your ])leasure. — Yours most humbly, 
 Walter Cove." 
 
 No mention of this play having been acted 
 occurs in Henslowe's Diary, 1591-1609, nor 
 in Pepys, nor in Genest, whose work em- 
 braces the period between 1660 and 1830. In 
 
 1 Hunter gives a passage from Monstrelet, in which a 
 payment of "two hundred thousand goUl crowns" by the 
 King of France to Charles, King of Navarre, is spoljen of. 
 See ii. 1. 129-132, in tlie note on wliicli passage I have 
 given the ((uotation in full. 
 
 2 The references here are to the lines in the Globe Edi- 
 tion, as in this edition the redundant lines are omitted 
 altogether. 
 
 ^ Ingleby's Centurie of Prayse, second edition, p. G2. 
 4 
 
 October, 1839, under the management of 
 Madame Vestris, Love's Labour's Lost was 
 played at Coveiit Garden; the cast of this 
 performance, as given in Duncombe's acting 
 edition, included, among other well-known 
 names, Mr. Harley asDonAdriano, Mr. Keeley 
 as Costanl, Mis. Nisbett as the I'rincess, and 
 Madame Vestris as liosaline. It was also acted 
 in 1853 at Sadlers Wells, under the manage- 
 ment of Mr. Phelps, who himself took the 
 paii of Doa Adria/io* I can find no instance 
 of its subseipient rei)reseiitation in our time. 
 
 Genest mentions a play called Students, and 
 dated 1762, but never acted. He says: "This 
 is professedly Love's Labour's Lost ada2)ted to 
 the stage; but it does not seem to have been 
 ever acted — the maker of the alteration (as is 
 usual in these case.s) has left out too much of 
 Shakespeare, and ])ut in t(jo much of his own 
 stuff' — Biron is foolishly made to put tm Cos- 
 tard's coat — in this disguise he speaks part of 
 what belongs to Costard, and is mistaken for 
 him by sevei'al of the characters. The curate 
 and schoolmaster are omitted, but one of the 
 pedantic sjjeeches belonging to the latter is 
 absurdly given to a player. One thing is veiy 
 hai3i)ily altered ; Arniado's letter to the king is 
 omitted as a letter, and the contents of it are 
 thi'own into Armadci's part. The cuckoo song 
 is transferred from the end of the i)lay to the 
 2d act, in which it is sung by Moth. It is 
 now usually sung in As you Like it." 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 It may be difficult to point out Shakes- 
 jieare's best ijlay, but there is little difficulty in 
 pointing out his worst. Love's Labour 's Lost, 
 whether we consider it as a drama, or as a study 
 of character, or as a poetical work, is certainly 
 the least to be admired of all his })lays. How 
 little real attraction it possesses as a dx'ania is 
 jjroved by the fact that, during the whole 
 period over which Genest's record extends, 
 Love's Labour's Lost was never once acted. It 
 appears to have been fortunate enough to 
 please Queen Elizabeth; but considering that 
 Lilly's inlays found so great favour with that 
 
 4 I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. E. L. Blanchard 
 fur the above information.
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 learned and virtuous sovereign, this fact does 
 not say niucli for the intrinsic merits of Love's 
 Labour's Lost. There is scarcely one scene 
 which contains any real dramatic interest. 
 Perhaps the best is the one, in which Biron 
 overhears the confessions of love on the j)art 
 of the king and the other two lords. His step- 
 ping forth to whip hyjDocrisy is very amusing, 
 considering that he has already confessed to 
 the audience his own passion for Eosaline, and 
 that he is almost immediately convicted of 
 being equally false to his vows with those 
 whom he has denounced, through the clumsy 
 intervention of Costard and Jaciuenetta. In all 
 Shakespeare's other plays, not excepting Timon 
 of Athens, there is a gradually increasing dra- 
 matic interest; but in this play no one who 
 reads it, or who sees it acted, can care very 
 much about the fate of any character in it. 
 None of the female characters are developed 
 suthciently to enlist our symjmthies; while the 
 male ones produce, for the most part, only a 
 sense of weariness in the reader or specfcitor. 
 The individuality of each character is very 
 slight. Biron and Boyet, Armado and Holo- 
 fernes. Costard and Dull, Rosaline and Maria, 
 are each like faint reflections of the other; they 
 run in pairs, as it were, and the power which 
 shoiUd have been concentrated on the one 
 is frittered away on both. The end of the play 
 is, to an audience, eminently unsatisfactory; 
 no definite result is attained, and the spectator 
 is simi)ly left to imagine that, in the course of 
 a year or so, the various couples, male and 
 female, are joined together in holy matrimony. 
 The comic element is infinitely weaker even 
 than in The Two Gentlemen of Verona; while, 
 for construction and situation. The Comedy of 
 Errors ranks far above Love's Labour 's Lost. 
 It would seem that Shakespeare had two 
 main objects in writing Love's Labour's Lost; 
 first, to ridicule the euphuistic school, to sa- 
 tirize the pedantic tone and tedious anti- 
 theses of Lilly's plays; secondly, to laugh good- 
 hurnouredly at the clumsy and inefl:"ective 
 pageants, which it was then the custom for 
 the counti-y people to present at the houses 
 and in the gardens of the nobility, or at vil- 
 lage fairs and festivals. One can well ima- 
 gine that Shakespeare, when quite a young 
 
 man, feeling within himself the latent power 
 of a great dramatist, nuist have been more or 
 less incensed at the ridiculous exti'avagance of 
 the praise awarded to John Lilly, who was at 
 that time, undoubtedly, the most popular jjlay- 
 wright. Lilly's comedies, or whatever he was 
 pleased to call them, were performed by com- 
 panies of boys in the presence of her gracious 
 majesty Queen Elizabeth, who led the apjalause. 
 The laborious and sententious style of dialogue, 
 the vulgarly paiaded scholarship — if we may 
 use such a term foi- the lavish sprinkling of 
 Latin phrases,^ which Lilly puts into the mouth 
 of every character, whether heathen god, or 
 Christian clown — the utterly affected and un- 
 natural sentiments, the absence of any real 
 passion, all these points were just of the nature 
 which Queen Elizabeth could thoroughly ap- 
 preciate. Whatever the talent of her courtieis 
 might be, they were far too submissive to dis- 
 pute her judgment; and the lower classes, as far 
 as they took any interest in the matter, followed 
 suit: so that, during the period when Shakes- 
 peare was growing from boyhood to manhood, 
 John Lilly was accepted as the leading drama- 
 tist of the age. It cannot be denied that Lilly 
 had talent, or that his plays contain, here and 
 there, flashes of merit and even of poetry; but 
 his was essentially a false and unwholesome 
 style of writing; and, indeed, had it been other- 
 wise, he would scarcely have found favour at 
 court then, or in later days. It is also true that 
 Queen Elizabeth made some pretence, at a 
 subsequent time, of appreciating Shakesijeai'e;- 
 
 1 Dr. Laudmann in his interesting paper on "Slialcspere 
 and Euphuism" (New Shali. Soc. Transactions, Feb. 10, 
 1822), makes the astounding statement that "Lilly's style 
 is free from Latin and foreign-English, nor does he in- 
 dulge in Latin quotations." No one who reads Lilly's 
 plays can fail to notice the ridiculous abundance of Latin 
 quotations and sentences, assigned to every character, 
 without the slightest regard to their appropriateness in 
 the mouth of the person who speaks them. 
 
 2 Although Queen Elizabeth's style is generally over- 
 sententious and affected, yet some of her writings— her 
 letter to Esse.K, for instance (Nugrc Antiqufe, vol. i. p. 
 302)— are so clear and masterly, that one cannot well 
 believe she really held Lilly superior to Shakespeare. 
 But her vanity was so great, that she would not show 
 any marked favour to one who declined to condescend to 
 such adulations as Lilly did in his Cynthia's Revels, or 
 Peele in his Arraignment of Paris. It is to Shakespeare-s 
 honour that his writings are nowhere disfigured by such 
 sycophancy.
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 that is not the question at jireseat. What I 
 Avisli to point out is, that the extravagance and 
 tediousness of Loves Labour 's Lost may be 
 attributed, in a great measure, to the over- 
 anxiety of a young writer to satirize one, 
 whose popularity he felt to be undeserved; 
 and whose superior he kaiew himself to be, not 
 with the self-conceit of a merely clever man, 
 but with the intuition of genius. Shake- 
 speare, however, fell into the fault which young 
 writers, actuated by similar motives, generally 
 display. His satii-e was so elaborate, that 
 it became equally tedious with that which it 
 sought to ridicule. Armado is quite as gi-eat 
 a bore as Sir Tophas in Lilly's End}Tnion, and 
 Moth may rival for his impertinence — in the 
 sti'ict sense of the word — any of the numer- 
 ous young prodigies who, under the title of 
 "pages," infe.st Lilly'.s jilays. But, in .sjnte of 
 all its faults, the .satii'e of Love's Labour 's Lost 
 was, no doubt, very etiective. The popularity 
 of Lilly seems to have faded before the li.sing 
 star of those dramatists who, like Shakesjjeare, 
 imitated his epigrammatic foix-e, while they 
 infu.sed into their characters what his wanted, 
 life and nature. For some time conceits had 
 their day. It was a long day; but, bj'^ the 
 time Shakesjieare's genius had begun to ma- 
 ture, he was able to discard such adventitious 
 aid and ornament. 
 
 The charactei- of Holofernes has been sup- 
 posed by some commentators to have been 
 intended for John Florio, the author of many 
 works, and esjjecially of the well-known Ita- 
 lian-English Dictionary which bears his name. 
 Apart from other reasons, it may be doubted 
 whether Shakesi)oare would have ridiculed 
 one who was so especial a protege of the Eail 
 of Southampt(jn as Florio was. It is more pro- 
 bable that under cover of a character found, 
 as The Pedant, in many old Italian comedies, 
 Shakespeare intended to satirize the silly dis- 
 play of Latinity which Lilly av;is so fond of 
 making in his plays. Doubtless, as Dr. Land- 
 mann points out, the Spanish bomljastic style 
 is more specially ridiculed in Don Armado, 
 6 
 
 and, in the king and his courtiers, the love- 
 sick affectations of the school which professed 
 to follow Petrarch. 
 
 In his ridicule of such i)ageants as the clowns 
 of Warwickshire presented before their liege 
 lords, Shakespeare was more happy, be- 
 cause less tedious; of course, in the admirable 
 "Clown's scenes" of Midsummer's Night's 
 Dream he reaches a far higher point than he 
 does in this play. One can easily imagine 
 the humorous, thoughtful face of the young 
 lad from Stratford-upon-Avon amongst the 
 crowd of sjjectators at one of those '"'' 'pleasant 
 inteiiudes;" one can picture him as he notes 
 down in his mind the amusing blunders of the 
 rustic actors, and evolves from such scanty 
 materials the rich humour of " P>Tamus and 
 Thisbe." 
 
 As to the bearing of this play on the social 
 questions of Shakespeare's day, I doubt if he 
 had any intention to treat such serious matters, 
 as the intellectual position of women com- 
 pared with tha1> of men, in the work Ijefore 
 us; nor can we draw any parallel between 
 this play and Tennyson's Princess, without 
 stretching conjecture to unjustifiable limits. 
 
 In all Shakespeare's earlier plays there is 
 S( ime idea imj^erf ectly A\'orked out which fore- 
 shadows one of his later and more jjerfect 
 creations. The weak wit-combats, if they can 
 be called so, of Biron and Rosaline, of Boyet 
 and Maria, contain the feeble embryo of those 
 matchless creation.s. Benedick and Beatnce. 
 
 It would be unfair to dismiss this play with- 
 out noticing the gi'eat superiority, as far at 
 least as jioetical merit goes, of the two last 
 acts, which were, undoubtedly, much enlai'ged 
 and improved by Shakesjieare, at some jieriod 
 later than that of their original production. 
 There is an elevation in the language of the 
 Princess, in the la-st act, which belongs to a 
 later period of Shakespem^e's career; and some 
 of Biron's speeches contain evidence of a far 
 more skilful touch, both in the metre and in 
 the matter, than the writer possessed when 
 executing the eiU'lier portions of the play.
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ScEXE I. The king of Xavarre's park. 
 
 Eater Ferdinand, king of Navarre, Biron, 
 LoxGAViLLE, and Dumain. 
 
 King. Let fame, that all hunt after in theii' 
 
 lives, 
 Live registeril ui^on our brazen tombs, 
 And then grace us in the disgrace of death; 
 When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, 
 The endeavour of this present breath may buy 
 That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen 
 
 edge, 
 And make us heirs of all eternity. 
 Therefore, brave conquerors, — for so you are. 
 That war against your own aifections, 
 And the huge army of the world's desires, — 10 
 Oui' late edict shall strongly stand in force: 
 Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; 
 Our court shall be a little Academe, 
 Still and contemplative in living art. 
 You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, 
 Have sworn for tlu'ee years' tenn to live with 
 
 me 
 My fellow-scholare, and to keep those .statutes 
 That are recorded in this schedule here: 
 Your oaths are jiass'd; and now subscribe 
 
 your names, 
 
 That his own hand may strike his honour down 
 That \aolates the smallest branch heivin : 21 
 If you are arm'd to do as .sworn to do, 
 Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too. 
 
 Long. I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years' 
 
 fast : 
 
 The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: 
 
 Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits 
 
 Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the 
 
 wits. 
 
 Bum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortitied: 
 The grosser manner of these world's delights 
 He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves : 
 To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; 
 With all these living in philosophy. 32 
 
 Biron. I can but say their protestation over; 
 So much, dear liege, I have alread}' sworn. 
 That is, to live and study here three years. 
 But there are other strict observances; 
 As, not to see a woman in that term, 
 Which I hope well is not enrolled there; 
 And one day in a M^eek to touch no food 
 And but one meal on every day beside, 40 
 The which I hope is not enrolled there; 
 And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, 
 And not be seen to wink of all the day — 
 When I was wont to think no harm all night. 
 7
 
 ACT I. Sceuf I. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 And make a dark iii^dit too of half the day — 
 Which I liope well is not enrolled there: 4i5 
 O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, 
 Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! 
 King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from 
 these. 
 Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if yon 
 please : so 
 
 I only swf)re to study with your grace, 
 And stiiy hei'e in your court for three years' 
 space. 
 ^Long. You swure to that, Biron, and to 
 
 the rest. ' ' ''•*"• 
 
 Biron. By yea and "nay, feir; th^iiT's'wdre in 
 jest. .' : '. ■: ^•' -' ■-■ • • / •■■ 
 
 "V^Tiat is the end'oi'*s^udy? let hie know". 
 King. Why, that to know, which else we 
 
 should not know. 
 Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you mean, 
 
 from common sense? 
 King. Ay, that is study's god-like I'ecom- 
 
 pense. 
 Biron.Corae on, then ; I will swear to study so, 
 ?To know the thing I am forbid to know: co 
 
 > As thus, — to study where I well may dine, 
 ( When I to fast exj^ressly am ftirbid; 
 ^Or study where to meet some mistress fine, 
 
 / When mistresses from common sense are 
 
 hid; 
 ?0r, having sworn too hard a keejjing oath, 
 ^ Study to break it, and not break my troth. 
 ' If study's gain be thus, and this be so, 
 
 > Study knows that which yet it doth not know : 
 ( Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no. 
 
 < King. These be the stops that hinder study 
 
 < quite, 70 
 (And train our intellects to vain delight. 
 
 I Biron. Why, all delights are vain; but that 
 
 i most vain, 
 
 s Which with pain purchas'd doth inherit pain: 
 
 <As, painfully to j)ore njion a l)Ook 
 
 ^ To seek the light of truth ; while truth the 
 
 i while 
 
 )Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: 
 
 > Light seeking liiiht doth licdit of li'dit be- 
 
 CO o o o o 
 
 > guile: 
 
 ^So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, 
 ^Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. 
 / Study me how to please the eye indeed so 
 
 ? By fixing it u])on a fairer eye, 
 
 Who dazzling so, that eye .shall be his heed, 82 < 
 
 And give him light that it was blinded by. } 
 
 Study is like the heaven's glorious sun ^ 
 
 That will not be deep-searcli'd with saucy S 
 
 looks: ^ 
 
 Small' have continual jilodders ever won, J 
 
 Save l)ase authority from (others' books. '} 
 
 These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights, 
 
 That give a name to every fixed star, J^ 
 
 Have no more ])rofit of their shining nights / 
 
 Than those that walk and wot not what they <• 
 
 are. oi 
 
 Too much to know is to know nought but fame; 
 
 And every godfather can give a name. < 
 
 King. How well he 's reatl, to reason against ' 
 
 reading! ' 
 
 Dum. Proceeded well, to stop all good yxo-' 
 
 ceeding! 
 Long. He weeds the corn and still lets gi'ow 
 the weeding. ^^ 
 
 Biron. The .sj)ring is near when green geese'' 
 are a-breeding. ( 
 
 Dum. How follows that? X 
 
 Biron. Fit in his place and time. ( 
 
 Dum. In reason nothing. 
 Biron. Something then in rhyme. ^ 
 
 King. Biron is like an envious sneaking- frost \ 
 That bites the first-born infants ofs 
 the spring. loi s 
 
 Biron. Well, say I am; why .should jiroud^ 
 summer boast > 
 
 Before the birds have any cause to • 
 sing? 'j 
 
 Why should I joy in any abortive birth? > 
 
 At Christmas I no moie desire a rose > 
 
 Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled .shows; ) 
 But like of each thing that in season grow.s. 
 S(j you, to study now it is too late, > 
 
 Climb o'er the house to uidock the little gate. ]? 
 King. Well, sit ycni out: go home, Biron: 
 adieu. no 
 
 Biron. No, my good lord; I have sworn to 
 stay with you: 
 QAnd though I have for bai'barism spoke inore|! 
 Than for that angel knowledge you can say, ' 
 Yet confident I '11 kee]) what I have swore / 
 And bide the ])enance of each three years'; 
 day. ] \ 
 
 > Small, small or little (gain). - Sneaping, checking.
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 Give me the paper; let me read the same; lie 
 And to the strict'st decrees I '11 write my name. 
 
 King. How well this yielding rescues thee 
 from shame! 
 
 Biron [reads]. "Item, That no woman shall 
 come within a mile of my court:" Hath this been 
 proclaimed '] 121 
 
 Long. Four days ago. 
 
 Biro II. Let 's see the i^enalty. [Reads] "On 
 pain of losing her tongue." Who devised this 
 penalty? 
 
 Long. Marry, that did I. 
 
 Biron. Sweet lord, and why? 
 
 Long. To fright them hence with that di ead 
 penalty. 
 
 Biron. A dangerous law against gentility I 
 
 [Reads] " item, if any man be seen to talk with 
 a woman within the term of three years, he shall 
 endure such public shame as the rest of the court 
 can possibly devise." 133 
 
 This article, my liege, yourself must break; 
 
 For well you know here comes in embassy 
 The French king's daughter with yourself to 
 speak, — 
 
 A maid of grace, comjilete in majesty — 
 About surrender up of Aquitaine 
 
 To her decrepit, sick, and bedrid father: 
 Therefore this article is made in vain, 140 
 
 Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither. 
 
 King. What say you, lords? why, this was 
 quite forgot. 
 
 Biron. So study evermore is overshot: 
 While it doth study to have what it would, 
 It doth forget to do the thing it should, 
 And when it hath the thing it huiiteth most, 
 'T is won as towns with fire, so won, so lost. 
 
 King. We nuist of force disj)ense with this 
 decree; 
 She must lie^ here on mere necessity. 
 Biron. Necessity Avill make us all forsworn 
 
 Three thousand times within this three years' 
 si)ace; 151 
 
 For every man with his affects is born. 
 
 Not by might master'd but by special grace: 
 If I break faith, this word shall s])eak for me; 
 I am forsworn on "mere necessity." 
 So to the laws at large I write my name: 
 
 [Subscribes. 
 
 1 Lie, reside. 
 
 And he that breaks them in the least degree 
 Stands in attainder of eternal shame: 
 
 Suggestions'^ are to others as to me; 
 But I believe, although I seem so loath, 16O 
 I am the last that will last keep his oath. 
 But is there no quick^ recreation granted ? 
 
 King. Ay, that there is. Our court, you 
 know, is haunted 
 
 With a refined traveller of Spain; 
 A man in all the world's new fashion planted, 
 
 That hath a mint of phrases in liis brain; 
 One whom the music of liis own vain tongue 
 
 Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; 
 A man of complements,* whom right and wrong 
 
 Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: 170 
 This child of fancy, that Armado hight, 
 
 For interim to our studies shall relate. 
 In high-born words, the worth of manya kniglxt 
 
 From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 
 How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; 
 But, I protest, I love to hear him lie. 
 And I will use him for my minstrelsy. 
 
 Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wight, 
 A man of fire-new^ words, fashion's own knight. 
 
 Long. Costard the swain and he shall ])e our 
 sport; ISO 
 
 And so to study; three years is but short. 
 
 Enter Dull with a letter, ami Costard. 
 
 Dull. Which is the duke's own person? 
 
 Biron. This, fellow: what would'st? 
 
 Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, 
 for I am his grace's tharl)orough :^ but I would 
 see his own person in flesh and blood. 
 
 Biron. This is he. 
 
 Dull. Signior Amie — Arme — commends 
 you. There's villany abroad: this letter will 
 tell you more. iqo 
 
 Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touch- 
 ing me. 
 
 King. A letter from the magnificent Armado. 
 
 Biron. How low soever the matter, I hojje 
 in God for high words. 
 
 Long. A high hope for a low heaven : God 
 grant us patience ! 
 
 Biron. To hear? or forbear lauehins:? 
 
 • Stiggestions, temptations. ' Quick, lively. 
 
 ■• Complements, ornamental accomplishments. 
 ^ Fire-new, bran-new. 
 6 Tharborough, third borough, a peace-officer.
 
 ACT I. SceDe 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugli 
 moderately: or to forbear both. 200 
 
 Biroii. Well, .sir, be it lus the style shall give 
 us cause to climl) in the merriness. 
 
 Cost. The matter is to me, sir, as concerning 
 Jaqueuetta. The manner of it is, I was taken 
 with the manner.^ 
 
 JJiron. In what manner? 206 
 
 Cost. In manner and form following, sir; 
 all those three : I was seen with her in the 
 manor-house, sitting with her uj)on the form, 
 and taken following her into the park ; which, 
 ])ut togethei", is in manner and form following. 
 N(nv, sir, for the manner, — it is the manner 
 
 There "s Tillany abroad : this letter will tell you more. 
 
 of a man to speak to a woman : for the foiin, 
 — in some form. 213 
 
 BiroH. For the following, sir? 
 
 Cost. As it shall follow in my correction: 
 and God defend the right I 
 
 King. Will you hear this letter with atten- 
 tion ? 
 
 Biron. As we would hear an oracle. 
 
 Cost. Such is the simplicity of man to hearken 
 after the flesh. 210 
 
 King [reach]. "Great deputy, the welkin's 
 vicegerent and sole doniinator of Navarre, my soul's 
 earth's god, and body's fostering patron." 
 
 Cost. Not a word of Costard yet. 
 
 King [reads']. " So it is, "— 
 
 ' With the manner, in the fact. 
 10 
 
 Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is so, he 
 is, in telling true, but so. 
 
 King. Peace ! 
 
 Cost. Be to me and every man that dax'es 
 not fight ! 230 
 
 King. No words I 
 
 Cost. Of other men's secrets, I beseech you. 
 
 King [reads]. " So it is, besieged with sable-col- 
 oured melancholy, I did commend the black-oppress- 
 ing humour to the most wholesome physic of thy 
 health-giving air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook 
 myself to walk. The time when. About the sixth 
 hour ; when beasts most graze, birds best peck, and 
 men sit down to that nourishment which is called 
 supper : so much for the time when. Now for the 
 ground which ; which, I mean, I walk'd upon : it is 
 ycliped thy i)ark. Then for the place where ; [where,
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 ; I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most pre- 
 
 ^ posterous event, that draweth from my snow-white 
 
 ( pen the ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, 
 
 ? beholdest, sun'cyest, or seest : but to the place 
 
 ' where ; ] it standeth north-north-east and by east 
 
 from the west corner of thy curious-knotted garden: 
 
 there did I see that low-spirited swain, that base 
 
 minnow of thy mirth," — 251 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King \j'eads\. ' ' that imlettered small-knowing 
 soul," 
 
 Cost. Me. 
 
 King \)-eads]. " that shallow vassal," — 
 
 Cost. Still me. 
 
 "which, as I remember, bight 
 
 200 
 
 King [reads]. 
 Costard, — 
 
 Cost. O, me. 
 
 King [reads], "sorted and consorted, contrary 
 to thy estabhshed proclaimed edict and continent 
 canon, with — with, — 0, with — but with this I passion 
 to say wherewith, — 
 
 Cost. With a wench. 
 
 King [reads]. " with a child of our gi-andmother 
 Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, 
 a woman. Him I, as my ev*--esteemed duty pricks 
 me on, have sent to thee, to receive the meed of 
 punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Anthony 
 Dull ; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and 
 estimation." 271 
 
 Dull. Me, an 't shall please you ; I am An- 
 thony Dull. 
 
 King [reads]. "For Jaquenetta, — so is the 
 weaker vessel called which I apprehended with the 
 aforesaid swain, — I keep her as a vessel of thy law's 
 fury ; and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, 
 bring her to trial. Thine, in all complements of 
 devoted and heart-burning heat of duty. 
 
 Don Adkiano de Armado." 2S0 
 
 Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, 
 Ijut the best that ever I heard. 
 
 King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, 
 sirrah, what say you to this? 
 
 Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. 
 
 King. Did you hear the proclamation 1 
 
 Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, 
 but little of the marking of it. 
 
 ^ King. It was proclaimed a year's imjwison- 
 ment, to be taken with a wench. 290 
 
 Cost. I was taken with none, sir : I was 
 taken with a damsel. 
 
 King. "VYell, it was j)roclaime<l "damsel." 
 
 Cost. This was no damsel neither, sir; she 
 was a virgin. 
 
 King. It is so varied too ; for it was pro- 
 claimed "virgin." 207 
 
 Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity : I 
 was taken with a maid. 
 
 King. This maid will not serve your turn, 
 sir. soo 
 
 Cost. This maid wiU serve my turn, sir. ] 
 
 King. Su-, I will pronounce your sentence : 
 you shall fast a week with bran and water. 
 
 Cost. I had rather pray a month with mut- 
 ton and porridge. 
 
 King. And Don Armado shall be your 
 keeper. 
 My Lord Biron, see liim deliver'd o'er : 
 And go we, lords, to jjut in practice that 
 
 ^\Tiich each to other hath so strongly sworn. 
 
 [Exeunt King, Lo)igaville, and Dumain. 
 
 Biron. I '11 lay my head to any good man's hat, 
 
 These oaths and laws will prove an idle 
 scorn. 311 
 
 Sirrah, come on. 
 
 Cost. I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it 
 is, I was taken with Jacjuenetta, and Jaquen- 
 etta is a true girl ; and therefore welcome the 
 sour cup of i^rosperity I Affliction may one 
 day smile again ; and till then, sit thee down, 
 sorrow I [K.veunt. 
 
 Scene II. The same. 
 Enter Armado and Moth. 
 
 Arm. Boy, what sign is it when a man of 
 gi'eat sjairit grows melancholy ? 
 
 Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look 
 sad. 
 
 Arm. Vfhy, sadness is one and the self-.same 
 thing, dear imp. 
 
 Moth. No, no; O Lord, sir, no. 
 
 Arm. How canst thou part sadness and 
 melancholy, my tender juvenal I 
 
 Moth. By a familiar demonstration of the 
 working, my tough senior. 10 
 
 Arm. "V\Tiy tough senior? why tough senior? 
 
 Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender 
 juvenal? 
 
 Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a con- 
 gruent epitheton appertaining to thy young 
 days, which we may nominate tender. 
 
 Moth. And I, tough senior, as an appertin- 
 11
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 eiit title to your old time, which we may name 
 tough. IS 
 
 Arm. Pretty ami ajit. 
 ^ ^Mot/t. How mean you, .sir? I pretty, and 
 ;my saying apt '. or I apt, and my sjiying pretty I 
 ) Arm. Thou pretty, because little. 
 ; Moth. Little pretty, because little. Where- 
 of ore apt? 
 
 ; Ann. And therefore apt, because quick. 
 ? Moth. Speak you this in my praise, ma.ster ? 
 '? Arm. In thy condign 2»niise. 
 ? Moth. I will praise an eel with the Siime 
 /praise. 
 
 ) Arm. What, that an eel is ingenious? 
 ? Moth. That an eel is quick. 3o 
 
 ^ Arm. I do say thou art quick in answers: 
 Hhou heat'st my blood. 
 ^ Mot/i. I am answer'd, sir. 
 
 Arm. I love not to be cross'd. 
 
 ''crosses' love not him. 
 
 ^ Arm. I have promised to study three years 
 
 ^wdth the duke. 
 
 ^ Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. 
 
 ' Arm. Impossible. 40 
 
 ^ Moth. How many is one thrice told ? 
 
 < Arm. I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the 
 I spirit of a tapster. 
 
 ( Moth. You are a gentleman and a gamester, 
 
 ( sir. 
 
 ( Arm. I confess both: they are both the var- 
 
 jj nish of a complete man. 
 
 ' Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how much 
 
 < the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. 
 
 Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. 
 
 Moth. Which the base vulgar do call tlu'ee. 
 
 Arm. True. 52 
 
 Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? 
 
 )Now here is three studied, ere you'll thrice 
 )wnnk : and liow ea.sy it is to put "years" to the 
 ^word "three," and study three years in two 
 > words, the dancing horse will tell ytni. 
 ) Arm. A most fine figure ! 
 ^ Moth. To prove you a cijiher. ] 59 
 
 Arm. I will hereupon confess I am in love: 
 and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I 
 ;; in love with a base wench. Q If drawing my 
 ^ sword again.st the humour of affection would 
 
 ' Crosses, money. 
 12 
 
 deliver me from the reprobate thought of it,< 
 I would take Desire j)risoner, and ran.som him) 
 to any French courtier for a new-devis'd cour- ^ 
 te.sy. I think .scorn to .sigh : methinks I should ^ 
 outswear Cupid.] Comfort me, boy: whaf^ 
 great men have been in love? os 
 
 Moth. Hercules, master. 
 
 Arm. Most sweet Hercules ! More author- 
 ity, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my 
 child, let them be men of good repute and 
 carriage. 
 
 Moth. Samson, master: he was a man of 
 good carriage, gi'eat carriage, for he carried the 
 town-g;ites on his l)ack like a jiorter: and he 
 w\as in love. 
 
 Arm. O well-knit Sam.son I strong- jointed 
 Samson ! I do excel thee in my rapier as 
 much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I 
 am in love too. Who was Samson's love, my 
 dear Moth? so 
 
 Moth. A woman, master. 
 
 l^Arm. Of what complexion? ' 
 
 Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the > 
 two, or one of the fom-. 
 
 Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion. 
 
 Moth. Of the sea- water green, sir. 
 
 Arm. Is that one of the four complexions? 
 
 Moth. As I have read, sir; and the best of 
 them too. s;i 
 
 Arm. Green indeed is the colour of lovers : 
 but to have a love of that colour, methinks 
 Samson had small reason for it. He surelv 
 afieeted her for her wit. 
 
 Moth. It was so, sir ; for she had a green , 
 wit. ^ 
 
 Arm. My love is most immaculate white ^ 
 and red. 
 
 3foth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are 
 mask'd mider such colours. 
 
 Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 
 
 Moth. My father's \\it and my mother's ■ 
 tongaie, as.sist me ! ion 
 
 Arv}. Sweet invocation of a child; most^ 
 pretty and pathetical ! 
 
 Moth. If she be made of white and red, > 
 
 Her faults will ne'er be known, > 
 
 For blushing cheeks by faults are bred, > 
 
 And fears by pale white .showui: ( 
 
 Then, if she fear, or be to blame, ( 
 
 By this you shall not know; '
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 For still hei- cheeks possess the same, 
 Which native she doth owe.^ m 
 
 <A dangerous rhyme, master, against the rea- 
 (son of white and red. ] 
 
 Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the 
 King and the Beggar ? 
 
 MotJi. The world was veiy guilty of such a 
 ballad some three ages since : but I think now 
 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would 
 neither serve for the wiiting nor the tune. 119 
 
 Arm. I will have that subject newly 'wi'it 
 o'er, that I may example my digression by 
 
 Arm. I love thee. 
 
 Jaq. So I heard you say. 
 
 some miglity precedent. Boy, I do love that 
 countiy girl that I took in the park with the 
 rational hind Co.stard: she deserves well. 124 
 
 Moth. [^IsiV/e] To be whipp'd ; and yet a 
 better love than my master. 
 
 A rm. Sing, boy ; my spirit grows hea\'y in love. 
 
 Moth. And that's gi'eat marvel, loving a 
 light wench. 
 
 Arm. I say, sing. iso 
 
 Moth. Forbear till this company be past. 
 
 Elder Dull, Costard, and Jaquexetta. 
 
 Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you 
 teep Costard safe : and you must suffer him 
 
 1 Owe, possess. 
 
 to take no delight nor no penance; but he 
 must fast three days a week. For this dam- 
 sel, I must keep her at the park : .she is allowtl 
 for the day- woman.- Fare you well. 
 
 Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. 
 Maid ! 
 
 Jaq. Man? 
 
 Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge. 140 
 
 Jaq. That 's hereby. 
 
 Arm. I know where it is situate. 
 
 Jaq. Lord, how wise you are ! 
 
 Arm. I will tell thee wonders. 
 
 Jaq. With that face? 
 
 Arm. I love thee. 
 
 Jaq. So I heard you say. 
 
 - Day-ieoman, dairy-maid. 
 13
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 Arm. And so, farewell. 
 
 Jaq. Fair weather after you ! 
 
 Dull. Come, Ja(iueiietta, away! 150 
 
 [h'xeunt Dull and Jaquenetta. 
 
 Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy otiences 
 ere thou be pardoned. 
 
 Cost. Well, sii", I hojje, when I do it, I shall 
 do it on a full stomach. 
 
 Arm. Thou shalt be heavily punished. 
 
 Q Cost. I am more bound to you than your 
 fellows, for they are Ijut lightly rewarded. 
 
 Arm. Take away this villain; shut him up. 
 
 Moth. Come, you transgressing slave; away! 
 
 Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir : I will fast, 
 being loose. 161 
 
 Moth. No, sir ; that were fast and loc ise : 
 thou shalt to prison. ] 
 
 Cost. Well, if evei' I do see the merry days 
 of desolation that I have seen, some shall see. 
 
 Moth. What shall some see % 
 
 Cost. Nay, nothing. Master Moth, but what 
 they look uj)on. It is not for prisonei's to be 
 too silent in their words; and therefore I will 
 say nothing: I thank God I have as little 
 
 patience as another man; and therefoi'e I can 
 be quiet. \Extunt Moth and Costard. iTl 
 
 Ar7n. I do alfect the veiy ground, which is 
 base, where her shoe, which is baser, guided 
 b}^ her foot, which is basest, doth tread. I 
 shall be forswoin, which is a great argument 
 of falsehood, if I love. And how can that be 
 true love which is falsely attempted? Love 
 is a familiar ; Love is a devil : there is no 
 evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson .so 
 tempted, ;ind he had an excellent strength ; 
 yet was Solomon so seduced, and he had a very 
 good wit. Q Cupid's butt-shaft i.s too hai'd f(jv 
 Hercules' club ; and therefore too much odds 
 for a Sj)aniard's rai)ier. The first and second 
 cause will not serve my turn ; the passado he 
 respects not, the duello he regards not: his dis- 
 grace is to be called boy; but his glory is to 
 .subdue men. 3 Adieu, valour! rust, rajuer! be 
 still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, 
 he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god 
 of rh^ane, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. 
 Devise, wit ; write, pen ; for I am for whole 
 volumes in folio. [Kvit. 192 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. The same. 
 
 Enter the Prince.ss of France, Rosaline, 
 Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, and 
 other Attendants. 
 
 Boj/et. Now, madam, summon up your dear- 
 est .spirits: 
 Con.sider who the king j'our father send,s. 
 To whom he sends, and what's his endjassy: 
 Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem. 
 To j)arley with the sole inheritor 
 ()f all perfections that a man may owe. 
 Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight 
 Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. 
 Be now as prodigal of all dear grace. 
 As Nature was in making graces dear lo 
 
 When she did starve the general world beside. 
 And prodigally gave them all to you. 
 
 Prin. Good J^oi-d Boyet, my beauty, though 
 but mean, 
 
 14 
 
 Needs not the painted floiirish of your imiise: 
 Q Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, > 
 Not utter'd by base .sale of chapmen's tongues:/ 
 I am less proud to hear you tell my worth > 
 Than you much willing to be counted wise 
 In spending your wit in the praise of mine. ] 
 But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, 20 
 You are not ignorant, all-telling fame 
 Ddth iKjise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, 
 Till painful study shall outwear three years, 
 No woman may api)roach his silent coui-t: 
 Therefore to 's seemeth it a needful course. 
 Before we enter his forbidden gates. 
 To know his pleasure; and in that behalf. 
 Bold of your worthiness, we single you 
 As our best-moving fair solicitor. 
 Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, 
 On serious business, craving quick desi)atch, 
 Importunes personal conference with his grace: 
 Haste, signify so much; while we attend, a3 
 Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 Boijet. Proud of emiilcjyment, willingly I go. 
 
 J'ri.H. All pride is willing pride, and yours 
 
 is so. \_Kxit Boyet. 
 
 Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 37 
 
 That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? 
 
 First Lord. Lord Longaville is one. 
 
 Prin. Know you the man ? 
 
 Mar. I know him, madam: at a marriage- 
 feast, 40 
 Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
 Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized 
 In Normandy, saw I this Longaville: 
 A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; 
 In arts well fitted, glorious in arms: 45 
 
 .^.^^rrycj;^; 
 
 f .i^^i^^^^^^ 
 
 Bmjet. Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. 
 
 Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. 
 The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss. 
 If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil. 
 Is a sharp wit match 'd with too blunt a will ; 
 (QWhose edge hath ]>ower to cut, wlia.se will 
 '? still wills :,o 
 
 )It should none sjiare that come within his 
 > power. ] 
 
 Prin. Some merry mocking l<ird, belike; 
 
 is'tso? 
 Mar. They say so most that most his hu- 
 mours know. 
 Pri)i. Such short-liv'd wits <lo wither as they 
 grow. 
 Who are the I'est? 
 
 well-accom- 
 
 Kath. The young Duniain, 
 
 plish'd youth. 
 Of all that virtue love for virtue loved : 
 [_ Most power to do most harm, least knowing 
 
 ill; 
 For he hath wit to make an ill shape good. 
 And shape to win grace though he had no wit.] 
 I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once; ci 
 
 And much too little of that good I saw 
 Is my report to his great worthiness. 
 
 Ros. Another of these students at that time 
 Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. 
 Biron they call him; but a merrier man. 
 Within the limit of becoming mirth; 
 I never spent an hour's talk withal : 
 15
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT H, Scene 1. 
 
 His eye begets occasion fur his wit; 
 For every object that the one doth catcli, TO 
 The other turn.s to a mirth-moving jest, 
 Which his fair tongue — conceit's exjX)sitor — 
 Delivers in sucli apt and gracious words, 
 That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
 And younger hearings are quite i"a%nshed ; 
 So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 
 
 Priti. Gotl bless my ladies! are they all in 
 love, 
 That every one her own hath garnished 
 With such bedecking ornaments of ju'aise? 
 
 First Lord. Here comes Boyet. 
 
 lii'-enter Boyet. 
 
 Prin. Now, what admittance, lord? 
 
 Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair ap- 
 proach ; 81 
 And he and his cf)mpetitorsi in oath 
 Were all aildressVl' to meet you, gentle lady, 
 Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt: 
 He rather means to lodge you in the field. 
 Like one that comes here to besiege his court, 
 Than seek a dis])ensation for his oath, 
 To let you enter his unpeopled house. 
 Here comes Navarre. \The Ladies., all except 
 Princess., put on their masks.^ 
 
 Enter'KvsG, Longaville, Dlmaix, Biron, and 
 Attendants. 
 
 King. Fair princess, welcome to the coiii-t 
 of Navari'e. 90 
 
 Prin. " Fair " I give you back again ; and 
 " welcome " I have not yet : the roof of this 
 court is too higii to l)e yours; and welcome to 
 the wide fields too Ijase to be mine. 
 
 King. You shall be welcome, madam., to my 
 court. 
 
 Prin. I will be welcome, then: conduct me 
 thither. 
 
 King. Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an 
 oath. 
 
 Prin. Our Lady helj) my lord! he 11 be for- 
 sworn. 
 
 King. Not for the world, fair madam, by my 
 will. 
 
 1 Competitors, confederates. « Address' d, prepared. 
 16 
 
 Prin. Why, will shall break it ; will and 
 nothing else. loo 
 
 King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 
 Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were 
 wise, 
 Where now his knowledge nuist prove ignor- 
 ance. 
 I hear your gi-ace hath swoin out house-keei> 
 
 ing: 
 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, 
 And sin to break it. 
 But i)ardon me, I am too siidden-ljold: 
 To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. 
 Vouchsafe to read the purjjose of my coming, 
 And suddenly resolve me in my suit. no 
 
 [(Jives him a paper. 
 King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. 
 Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; 
 For you '11 prove perjui'd if you make me stay. 
 Biron. Did not I dance with you in Biabant 
 
 once ? 
 Eos. Did not I dance with you in Bral)ant 
 
 once '] 
 Biron. I know you did. 
 Bos. How needless was it then to ask the 
 
 question ! 
 Biron. You must not be so quick. 
 Bos. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with 
 
 such questions. 
 Biron. Your wit 's too hot, it sjieeds too fast, 
 'twill tire. 120 
 
 Bos. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 
 ^ Biron. What time o' day? \ 
 
 Bos. The hour that fools should ask. s 
 
 Biron. Now fair befall your mask ! X 
 
 Bos. Fair fall the face it covers ! s 
 
 Biron. And send you many lovers I ^ 
 
 Jios. Amen, so you l)e none. i 
 
 Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.] S 
 
 King. Madam, your father here doth inti- 
 mate 
 The payment of a hundred thou.sand crowns; 
 Being but th' one half of an entire sum 131 
 Disl)ursed by my father in his wars. 
 But say that he or we — as neither have — 
 Receiv'd that .sum, yet there remains unpaid 
 A hundred thousand more ; in siirety of the 
 
 which. 
 One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, 
 Although not valued to the money's worth.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 If then the king- yuur father will restore 
 But that one half which is unsatistied, 
 We will give uj) our right iu Aquitaine, 140 
 And hold fair friendshii^ with his majesty. 
 jQBut that, it seems, he little purposeth, 
 5 For here he doth demand to have repaid 
 ^ A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, 
 >0n payment of a hundred thousand crown .s, 
 >To have his title live in Aquitaine; 
 > Which we much rather had depart^ withal, 
 ) And have the money by our father lent, 
 ?Than Acpiitaine so gelded as it is. 
 ' Dear i5rincess, were not his requests so far 
 >From reason's yielding, your fair self should 
 make i'jI 
 
 ; A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast, 
 ; And go well satisfied to France again. ] 
 
 Prin. You do the king my father too much 
 wrong. 
 And wrong the reputation of your name, 
 In so unseeming to confess receipt 
 Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. 
 
 Kiny. I do protest I never heard of it; 
 And if you prove it, I '11 repay it back, 
 Or yield up Aquitaine. 
 
 Prin. We arrest your word. 
 
 Boyet, you can produce acquittances lOi 
 
 For such a sum from special officers 
 Of Charles his father. 
 
 King. Satisfy me so. 
 
 Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is 
 not come 
 Where that and other specialties are bound : 
 To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 
 
 King. It shall suffice me : at which interview 
 All liberal reason I will yield unto. 
 Meantime receive such welcome at my hand, 
 As honour without breach of honour may iro 
 Make tender of to thy true worthiness: 
 You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; 
 But here without you shall be so receiv'd 
 As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, 
 Though so deni'd fair harbour in my house. 
 Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fare- 
 well: 
 To-morrow shall we visit you again. 
 
 Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort - 
 your grace ! 
 
 1 Depart, part. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 2 Consort, accompany. 
 
 King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every 
 
 place ! [Kvit. 
 
 Biron. Lady, I will cf.nnneiid you to mine 
 
 own heart. iso 
 
 Ros. Pray you, do my commendations ; I 
 would be glad to see it. 
 
 Q Biron. I would you heard it groan. 
 
 Ros. Is the fool sick % 
 
 Biron. Sick at the heart. 
 
 Ros. Alack, let it blood. 
 
 Biron. Would that do it good? 
 
 Ros. My physic says "ay." 
 
 Biron. Will you i)rick 't with your eye? 
 
 Ros. No poi/nt, with my knife. mo 
 
 Biron. Now, God save thy life ! 
 
 Ros. And yours from long living ! 
 
 Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving. ] 
 
 [Retiring. 
 Dum. Sir, I jjray you, a word : what lady is 
 
 that same? [Indicating Katharine. 
 
 Boyet. The heir of Alen§on, Katharine her 
 
 name. 
 Dum. A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you 
 
 well. [E.vit. 
 
 Long. I beseech you a word: what is she in 
 
 the white? [Indicating Maria. 
 
 Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her 
 
 in the light. 
 Long. Perchance light in the light. I desire 
 
 her name. 
 Boyet. She hath Init one for herself ; to de- 
 sire that were a shame. 200 
 Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? 
 Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. 
 Long. God's blessing on your beard 1 
 Boyet. Good sir, be not oifended. 
 She is an heir of Falconbridge. 
 
 Long. Nay, my choler is ended. 
 She is a most sweet lady. 
 
 Boyet. Not unlike, sir, that may be. 
 
 [Exit Longaville. 
 Biron. WHiat's her name in the cap? 
 
 [Indicating Roscdine. 
 Boyet. Rosaline, by good haj). 210 
 
 Biron. Is she w^edded or no? 
 Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. 
 Biron. You are welcome, sir: adieu. 
 Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to 
 
 you. [K.vit Biron — Ladies unmask. 
 
 J/rt)-. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord : 
 17 2
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Not a word with liini Imt a jest. 2ir. 
 
 Boyet. And every jest but a word. 
 
 Prin. It was well done of you to take him 
 at his word. 
 
 Boyet. I was as willing to grapjile as he was 
 to board. 
 \ \_ Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry. 
 \ Boyet. And wherefore not ships % 
 
 ;)No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your 
 ^ lips. 2l>0 
 
 \ Mar. You sheep, and I jjasture: shall that 
 \ finish the jest? 
 ; Boyet. So you grant jiasture for me. 
 \ \j'ff^''''-'^9 to kiss Iter. 
 
 / Mar. Not so, gentle beast : 
 
 \ My lips are no common, though several they be. 
 i Boyet. Belonging to whom ? 
 } Mar. To my fortunes and me. 
 
 ) Prin. Good wits will be jangling ; but, gen- 
 ( ties, agree: 
 
 < This civil war of wits were much better us'd 
 (■On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis 
 
 i abus'd.] 
 
 Boyet. If my observation, which very seldom 
 
 lies, 
 
 By the heart's still rhet5ric disclosed with eyes. 
 
 Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. 230 
 
 Prin. With what? 
 
 Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle 
 
 affected. 
 Pria. Your reason i 
 
 Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make 
 their retire 
 To the court of his eye, }>eeping thorough de- 
 sire: 
 His heart, like an agate, with yoiu' |)rint im- 
 press'd, 
 
 Proud with his form, in his eye ])ride ex- 
 
 press'd : :.• ;- 
 
 His tongue, all impatient to speak and not 
 
 see. 
 Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; 
 QAll senses to that sense did make their re])air, ) 
 To feel only looking on fairest of fair: 241 / 
 
 Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, < 
 As jeAvels in crystal for some prince to buy; ! 
 Who, tendring their own worth from where ( 
 they were glass'd, ? 
 
 Did jjoint you to buy them, along as you < 
 pass'd : ( 
 
 His face's own margent did quote such amazes^ 
 That all eyes siiw his eyes enchanted Avith^ 
 gazes, j \ 
 
 I '11 give you Aquitaine and all that is liis. 
 An you give him for my s;ike but one loving 
 kiss. 
 Prin. Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dis- 
 
 pos'd.^ 
 
 Boyet. But to speak that in words which 
 
 his eye hath disclos'd. -im 
 
 I only have made a mouth of his eye, 
 
 By adding a tongue which I know will not lit;. 
 
 Ros. Thou art an old love-monger and speak- 
 
 est .skilfully. 
 Mar. He is Cupid's gi-andfather and learns 
 
 news of him. 
 Ros. Then was Venus like her mother, for 
 
 her father is but grim. 
 Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? 
 Mar. No. 
 
 Boyet. What then, do you see ? 
 
 Ros. Ay, our way to be gone. 
 Boyet. You are too hard for me. 
 
 [^Exeaat. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. The sainc 
 
 Enter Armado and Moth. 
 
 Arm. Warble, child ; make jtassionate my 
 sense of hearing. 
 
 Moth. Concolinel.^ [Singing. 
 
 1 DispoK'd, merry 
 
 ^ Concolitiel (?), perhups the name of the song to be sung. 
 
 18 
 
 Arm. Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; 
 take this key, give enlargement to the swain, 
 bring him fcstinately'' hither: I must emj)loy 
 him in a letter to my love. 
 
 Q Moth. Master, will you win your love with ? 
 a French brawl* ? 9 < 
 
 3 Fentinatelii, hastily. 
 * Brawl, a kind of dance.
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 ^ Ann. How meanest tliou^ brawling- in 
 ' French ? lo 
 
 '. Moth. No, my complete master : l:»ut to jig 
 
 off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it 
 Iwith your feet, humour it with turning up 
 'your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note, 
 
 sometime thi'ough the tliroat, as if you swal- 
 , lowed love with singing love, sometime through 
 
 the nose, as if you snuff''d up love by smelling'; 
 love ; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the ■ 
 sho]> of your ej'es; with your amis cross'd on 
 your thin-belly doublet like a rabbit on a sjjit; 
 or your hands in your jMJcket like a man after 
 the old painting; and keep not too long in one/ 
 tune, but a snip and away. These are com-^ 
 plements, thest; are humours; these beti'ay nice ^ 
 
 ^^^L 
 
 
 id'JW 
 
 I, J' 
 
 
 f.KSS-^'X 
 
 Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing. 
 
 ^wenches, that would be betrayed without 
 'these; and make them men of note — do you 
 ^note me? — that most are affected to these. 2i; 
 ) Arm. How hast thou purchased this ex- 
 ^ perience ? 
 
 ) Moth. By my penny of observation. 
 ) Arm. But O,— but O,— 
 i Moth. " The hobby-horse is forgot." :'.o 
 
 S Arm. Callest thou my love "hobby-horse?" 
 > Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a 
 <;Colt, and your love perhaps a hackney. But 
 >-have you forgot your love? 
 
 Arm. Almost I had. 
 i Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart. 
 ^ Arm. By heart and in heart, boy. 
 ; Moth. And out of heart, master: all those 
 . three I will prove. 40 
 
 Arm. "What wilt thou prove? 
 
 Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and \ 
 without, upon the instant: by heart you love^ 
 hei', because your heart cannot come by her;< 
 in heart you love her, because your heart is in < 
 love with her; and out of heart you love her,; 
 being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her. ^ 
 
 Arm. I am all these three. ^ 
 
 Moth. And three times as much more, and ] 
 yet nothing at all. ' 
 
 Arm. Fetch hither the swain : he must carry 
 me a letter. ] "'i 
 
 Moth. A message well sympathiz'd ; a horse 
 to be ambassador for an ass. 
 
 Arm. Ha, ha ! what .sayest thou? 
 
 Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon 
 the hcjrse, for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. 
 19
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Ann. The way is but short : away I 57 
 
 J/ofA. As swift as lead, sir. 
 
 Ann. The meaning, pretty ingenious? 
 Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? oo 
 
 Moth. Miuime, honest master; or rather, 
 master, no. 
 
 Ann. I &ay lead is slow. 
 
 Moth. You are too swift,, sir, to siy so : 
 
 Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun ? 
 
 Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric ! 
 He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, 
 
 that 's he : 
 I shoot thee at the swain. 
 
 Moth. Thump then and I flee. \_Exit. 
 
 Ann. A most acute juveiial; voluble and 
 free of grace I 
 By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in 
 
 thy face : 
 Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. 
 My herald is return'd. 70 
 
 Re-enter Moth icith Costard. 
 
 Moth. A wonder, master ! here 's a costard' 
 
 broken in a shin. 
 Arm. Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy 
 
 I'envoy; begin. 
 Cost. No egma, no riddle, no I'envoy; no 
 salve in these all, .sir: O, sir, plantain, a jslain 
 plantain ! no I'envoy, no I'envoy; no salve, sir, 
 but a plantain ! 
 
 Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; 
 thy silly thought my spleen; the heaving of 
 my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling. 
 O, pardon me, my stars! Doth the incon- 
 siderate take salve for I'envoy, and the word 
 I'envoy for a salve ? so 
 
 Moth. Do the wise think them other? is not 
 I'envoy a .salve? 
 
 Arm. No, page : it is an epilogue or dis- 
 course, to make plain 
 Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been 
 
 sain. 
 I will example it: 
 
 The fox, the ape and the humble-bee. 
 Were still at odds, being but three. 
 There 's the moral. Now the I'envoy. 
 
 Moth. I will add the I'envoy. Say the moral 
 again. 
 
 1 Costard, head. 
 20 
 
 Arm. The fox, the ape, the humble-bee, 90 
 
 Were still at odds, being but three. 
 Moth. Until the goose came out of door. 
 
 And stay'd the odds by adding four. 
 ^ Now will I begin your moral, and do you 
 follow with my I'envoy. 
 
 The fox,theai)e,and the humble-bee. 
 Were still at odds, being but three. 
 Arm. Until the goose came out of door. 
 
 Staying the odds by adding four. [] 
 
 Moth. A good I'envoy, ending in the goose: 
 
 would you de-sire more? loi 
 
 ^Cost. The boy hath sold him a 1)argain, a 
 
 goose, that 's flat. 
 
 Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose 
 
 be fat. 
 To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and 
 
 loose : 
 Let me see; a fat I'envoy; ay, that's a fat 
 goose. ] 
 Arm. Come hither, come hither. ITow did 
 
 this argument begin? 
 Moth. By saying that a costard was broken 
 in a shin. 
 Then cjiU'd you for the I'envoy. 
 
 (ost. True, and I for a ])lantain: tluis came 
 your argument in ; 
 Then the boy's fat I'envoy, the goose that you 
 bought; no 
 
 And he ended the market. 
 
 Arm. But tell me; how was there a costard 
 broken in a .shin? 
 
 Moth. I will tell you sensibly. 
 Coat. Thou ha.st no feeling of it. Moth: I 
 will speak that I'envoy: 
 
 I Costiird, running out, that was safely 
 
 within. 
 Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. 
 A rm. We will talk no more of this matter. 
 Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. 
 Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchi.se thee. 
 ( 'ost. O, marry me to one Frances : I smell 
 some I'envoy, some goose, in this. 123 
 
 Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee 
 at liberty, enfreedoming thy per.son : thou wert 
 inmnired, restrained, captivated, bound. 
 
 Cost. True, true; and now you will be my 
 purgation and let me loose. 
 
 Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from 
 durance; and, in lieu thereof, imjwse on thee
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 nothing but this: bear this significant [giving 
 a lettc)-] to the conntiy maid Ja(;[uenetta : 
 there is remuneration; for the best ward of 
 mine honour is rewarding my dependents. 
 Moth, follow. [Exit. 
 
 Biron. Hark, slave, it is but t'lis. 
 
 Moth. Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, 
 adieu. v.Vo 
 
 Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my 
 inconyi Jew! [Exit Moth. 
 
 Now Avill I look to his remuneration. Re- 
 muneration ! O, that 's the Latin word for 
 three farthings: three farthings — remunera- 
 
 ' Jncoii!/, delicate. 
 
 tion. — "What's the price of this inkle?- — "One 
 penny. — "No, I'll give you a remuneration:" 
 why, it carries it. Remuneration! Avhy, it is 
 a fairer name than French crown. I will never 
 buy and sell out of this word. ui 
 
 Enter BiRO>f. 
 
 Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceed- 
 ingly well met. 
 
 Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation 
 ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration I 
 
 Biron. What is a remuneration I 
 
 Cost. Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. 
 
 Biron. Why, then, three-farthing woilh of 
 silk. ijo 
 
 Cost. I thank your worship : God be wi' you ! 
 
 Biron. Stay, slave; I must employ thee: 
 As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, 
 Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. 
 
 Cost. When would you have it done, sir? 
 
 Biron. This afternoon. 
 
 Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well. 
 
 Biron. Thou knowest not what it is. 
 
 Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. 
 
 Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. 
 
 ( 'ost. I will come to youi' worshijj to-morrow 
 morning. i oi 
 
 Bii'on. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, 
 slave, it is but this: 
 
 The princess comes to hunt here in the pai'k, 
 And in her train there is a gentle lady; 
 When tongues speak sweetly, then they name 
 
 her name. 
 And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; 
 And to her white hand see thou do commend 
 This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon ; go. 
 [Giving him a shilling. 
 
 Cost. Gardon, O sweet gardon ! better than 
 remuneration, a 'leven-pence farthing better: 
 most sweet gardon ! I will do it, sir, in jjrint. 
 Gardon ! Remuneration ! [Exit. iT-t 
 
 Biron. And I, forsooth, in love ! I, that 
 have been love's whip; 
 A very beadle to a lumiorous sigh; 
 A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; 
 A domineering pedant o'er the boy; 
 Than whom no mortal so magnificent ! i ."^o 
 
 This wimpled,^ whining, purblind, wayward 
 boy; 
 
 2 Inkle, tape. 
 
 ^ Wimpled, veiled or hooded. 
 21
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUll'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Sceue 1. 
 
 This seiiior-jiinior,giaiit-(hvarf, Don Cupid; 182 
 Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, 
 Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
 Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, 
 Dread prince of j)lackets, king of codj)ieces, 
 Sole imperator and great general 
 Of trotting paritors* : — O my little heart I — 
 And I to be a corporal of his field, 
 And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop I 
 "What, I ! 1 love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 191 
 A woman, that is like a German clock. 
 Still a-rejiairing, ever out of frame, 
 And never going aright, being a watch. 
 But being watch'd that it may still go right I 
 Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all; 
 
 And, among thi'ee, to love the worst of all; 197 
 Q A whitely- wanton with a velvet brow, < 
 
 With two pitch-b;\Ils stuck in her face for< 
 
 eyes; S 
 
 Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed^ 
 Though Argus were her eunuch and her;^ 
 
 guard : 3 2or 
 
 And I to sigh for her! to watch for her 1 
 To pray for her I Go to; it is a plague 
 That Gujiid will impose for my neglect 
 Of his almighty dreadful little might. 
 Well, I will love, write, sigh, i)ra3-, sue and 
 
 groan : 
 Some men must love my lady and some Joan. 
 
 [Rcit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 ScEXE L 77ic same. 
 
 Enter the Princess, and her train, a Forester, 
 BoTET, Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine. 
 
 Prin. Was that the king, that sjjurr'd his 
 horse so hard 
 Against the steep uprising of the hill? 
 
 Boyet. 1 know not; but I think it was not he. 
 Prin. Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting 
 mind. 
 AVell, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch: 
 On Saturday we will return to France. 
 QThen, forester, my friend, where is the bush 
 ^That we must stiind an<l ])lay the murderer in? 
 / For. Hereby, ui)on the edge of yonder cop- 
 / pice; 
 iK stand where you may make the fairest shoot. 
 
 > Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that 
 I shoot, 11 
 ^ And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot. 
 
 > For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. 
 
 > Prin. AVliat, what? first i)raise me and again 
 / say no i 
 
 /O short-liv'd pride I Not fair? alack for woe I 
 ^ For. Yes, madam, fair. 
 
 < Prin. Nay, never paint me now: 
 
 < Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. 
 
 1 Paritors, apparitors, officers of the ecclesiastical 
 courts. - Whitely, pale. 
 
 •22 
 
 Here, good my glass, t^ike this for telling true : - 
 Fair payment for foul words is more than due. 
 For. Nothing but fair is that which you in- ' 
 
 herit. 20 , 
 
 Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by 
 
 merit I 
 O heresy in faii-^, fit for these days I ; 
 
 A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair 
 
 praise. 
 But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill. 
 And shooting well is then accounted ill. 
 Thus will I siive my credit in the shoot: ; 
 
 Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; [ 
 If wounding, then it was to show my skill, ; 
 That more for praise than purpose meant to' 
 
 kiu. ; 
 
 And out of question so it is sometimes, so ^ 
 
 Glory gi'ows guilty of detested crimes, 
 When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward' 
 
 part, ' 
 
 We bend to that the working of the heart; ', 
 As I for praise alone now seek to spill ', 
 
 The poor deer's blood, that ni}' heart means no, 
 
 ill. ' 
 
 Boyet. Do not curst* wives hold that self-' 
 
 sovereignty < 
 
 Only for praise sake, when they strive to be , 
 Lords o'er their lords? < 
 
 ' Fair, beauty. 
 
 < Curst, cross-graiued.
 
 ACT IV. Sceue 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 ^ Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may 
 ^ afford 
 
 'To any lady that subdues a lord. ] 40 
 
 Boijet. Here comes a member of the com- 
 monwealth. 
 
 Enter Costard. 
 
 Cost. God dig-you-den all I ^ Pray you, 
 which is the head lady I 
 
 > [ Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the 
 ; rest that have no heads. 
 
 J Cost. Which is the gi-eatest lady, the highest? 
 J Prin. The thickest and the tallest. 
 \ Cost. The thickest and the tallest I it is so; 
 \ truth is tiiith. 
 
 ; An yoiu" waist, mistress, were as slender as 
 I my wit, 
 
 JOne o' these maids' girdles for your waist 
 I should be fit. 50 
 
 \ Are not you the chief woman ? you are the 
 ' thickest here. ] 
 
 Prin. What's your will, sir? what's your 
 will? 
 
 Cost. I have a letter from Monsieur Biron 
 to one Lady Rosaline. 
 
 Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter 1 he 's a good 
 friend of mine : 
 Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can 
 
 carve; 
 Break up this capon. - 
 
 Boyd. I am bound to serve. 
 
 This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; 
 It is writ to Jaquenetta. 
 
 Prin. We will read it, I swear. 
 
 Break the neck of the wax, and everj^ one 
 
 give ear. 59 
 
 Boyet \reads\. " By heaven, that thou art fan-, 
 is most infaUible; true, that thou art beauteous; 
 truth it.self, that thou art lovely. More fairer than 
 fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than ti'uth 
 itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal ! 
 The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua 
 set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar 
 \ Penelophon ; \_ and he it was that might rightly say, 
 ' Veni, ricli, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar, — 
 / base and obscure vulgar ! — viddicet, He came, 
 ;Saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; over- 
 Jcame, three. WTio came? the king: why did he 
 ■ come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to whom 
 
 1 God dig-ymt-den, God give you good even. 
 
 2 Break up this capon, open this letter. 
 
 came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the beggar :J> 
 who overcame he? the beggar. The conclusion is\ 
 victory: on whose side? the king's. The captive is^ 
 enrich'd : on whose side ? the beggar's. The catas- / 
 trophe is a nuptial : on whose side? the king's: no, ^ 
 on both in one, or one in both. ] I am the king ; for '• 
 so stands the comparison : thou the beggar ; for so 
 witne.sseth thy lowliness. Shall I command thj' 
 love ? I may : shall I enforce thy love ? I could : 
 shall I entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou 
 exchange for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thy- 
 self ? me. Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my 
 lips on thy foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my 
 heart on thy every part. Thine, in the dearest 
 design of industry, 
 
 Don Adriaxo de Armado. 
 
 " Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar 90 
 
 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his. 
 prey. 
 
 Submissive fall his princely feet before, 
 And he from forage will incline to plaj-: 
 
 But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ? 
 Food for his rage, repasture for his den." 
 
 Prin. What plume of feathers is he that 
 indited this letter? 
 What vane ? what weathercock ? did you ever 
 hear better? 
 Boyet. I am much deceived but I remember 
 
 the style. 
 Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er 
 
 it erewhile. 
 Boyet. Tliis Armado is a Spaniard, that 
 keejjs here in court; 100 
 
 A phantasime, a Monarcho,^ and one that 
 
 makes sport 
 To the prince and his bookmates. 
 
 Prin. Thou fellow, a word : 
 
 Who gave thee this letter ? 
 
 Cost. I told you; my lord. 
 
 Prin. To whom should'st thou give it? 
 Cost. From my lord to ray lady. 
 
 Pnn. From which lord to which lady? 
 Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master 
 of mine. 
 To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline. 
 Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, 
 lords, away. 
 [To Ros.'\ Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be 
 thine another day. 
 
 [^Exeunt Princess and trai)U 
 
 » Monarcho, a mad enthusiast of the time. 
 23
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 ^Boi/et. Who is the .';iiitf>r? who is the 
 ) suitor { ^ 
 
 \ Hos. Shall I teaoh you to kuow? no 
 
 } Bo>/et. Ay, my coutiueiit of beauty. 
 ^ Bos. Why, she that bears the bow. 
 
 ( Finely put ott' ! 
 
 I Boyet. My lady goes to kill honis; but, if 
 ' thou many, 
 
 ^Hang me by the neck, if horns that year niis- 
 ^ cjirry. 
 ^ Finely put on ! 
 
 j Bo!^. Well, then, I am the shooter. 
 \ Bo;i<'t. And who is your deer? 
 
 \ Bos. If we choose by the honi!?, yourself: 
 ^ come not near. 
 ^Finely put on, indeed ! 
 
 i Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and 
 s she strikes at the brow. 
 \ Boyet. But she herself is hit lower : have I 
 S hit her now I y^o 
 
 S Bo.<!. Shall I come ujjon thee with an old 
 /sajniig, that was a man when King Pepin of 
 ^France was a little boy, as touching the hit it? 
 ;^ Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as 
 ^old, that was a woman when Queen Guinover 
 ^of Britiiin was a little weiu-h, as touching the 
 'hit it. 
 
 ', Bos. Thou canst not liit it, hit it, hit it, 
 i Thou canst not hit it, my good man, 
 
 'Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, 
 , An I cannot, another can. 130 
 
 '', [E.veiDit Bos. and Kath. 
 
 '. Co.it. By my troth, most plensant : how both 
 ;; did tit it : 
 
 i Mar. A mark marvellous well .shot, for they 
 \ both did hit it. 
 
 s Boyet. A mark I O, mark Ijut that mark I 
 i A mark, says my lady 1 
 )Let the mark have a prick in 't, to mete at, if 
 j! it may be. 
 
 / Mar. Wide o' the bow hand I i' faith, your 
 ^ hand is out. 
 
 > Cost. Lideed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll 
 / ne'er hit the clout. 
 
 > Boyet. An if my hand be out, then belike 
 / your hand is in. 
 
 / Cost. Then will she get the ui)shoot by 
 cleaving the itin. 
 
 ' Suitor, fijnneily iiroiiouiiced '■ slioi^tor." 
 24 
 
 Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily; your> 
 lips grow foul. / 
 
 Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: ' 
 challenge her to bowl. 140^ 
 
 Boyet. I fear too much rubbing. Good^ 
 night, my good owd. ^^ 
 
 [Kvomt Boyet and Maria.' 
 Cost. By my .soul, a swain I a most simple 
 clown ! 
 Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have jnit 
 
 him doW'U 1 
 O' my troth, most .sweet jests', most incony 
 vulgar wit I / 
 
 When it comes so smoothly oti", so obscenely. 
 
 as it were, so fit. 
 Armador at th'one side, — O, a most dainty 
 
 man I 
 To see him walk before a lady and to bear hei 
 
 fan ! 
 
 To see him kiss his hand I and how most ', 
 
 sweetly a' will swear ! / 
 
 And his page at other side, that handful of 
 
 wit! / 
 
 Ah, heavens, it is a most i)athetical nitl^ loO/ 
 
 Sola, sola ! [,S/iout ivithin. ; 
 
 Exit Costard., runnincf.'V 
 
 Scene II. The same. 
 
 Enter HoLOFERNES, Sir Nathaniel, 
 and Dull. 
 
 Xatli. Very reverend sjtort, truly; and done 
 in the testimony of a good conscience. 
 
 Ifnl. The deer was, as you know, sanguigno., 
 in blood ; ripe as the pomewater,^ who now 
 hangeth like a jewel in the ear of cielo., the 
 sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth 
 like a crab on the face of terra., the soil, the 
 land, the earth. 
 
 Xath. Truly, Master Holof ernes, the epithets 
 are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least : 
 but, sir, I a.ssure ye, it was a buck of the fir.st 
 head. lo 
 
 Hoi. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. 
 
 Didl. 'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a 
 jjricket.'' 
 
 * Nit, the egg of an insect. 
 
 ^ Pomewatcr, a kind of apple. 
 
 ■• Pricket, a buck in his second year.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 Hol. Most barbarous iiitiniatioii ! yet a kind I cliuatioii, after his undressed, unpolished, nn- 
 
 of insinuation, as it were, iti via, in way, of | educated, unpruned, untrained, or rather, un- 
 
 explication; facere, as it were, replication, or j lettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to 
 
 rather, ostcntare, to show, as it were, liis in- | insert again my Iiaud credo iov a deer. 20 
 
 /«f^^li 
 
 Hnl. Most harbarons intimation ! 
 
 Dull. I said the deer was not a haud credo; 
 "t was a pricket. 22 
 
 IIol. Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus! 
 O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost 
 thou look ! 
 Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties 
 that are bred in a book; 
 he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not 
 drunk ink; his intellect is not reijlenished; he 
 is only an animal, only sensible in the duller 
 parts: And such barren })lants are set before 
 us, that we thankfid should be, which we of 
 taste and feeling are, for those j'arts that do 
 fructify in us more than he. 30 
 
 Xror as it would ill become me to be vain, iu- 
 ' discreet, or a fool, 
 
 ^So were there a patch set on learning, to see 
 I him in a school : 
 
 But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's- 
 mind, 33 j 
 
 Many can brook the weather that love not the ' 
 wind. ]] 
 Dull. You two are book-men: can you tell 
 me by your wit 
 What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's 
 not five weeks old as yet? 
 IIol. Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictyinia, 
 
 goodman r)ull. 
 Dull. What is Dictynna? 
 Xath. A title to Pha3be,to Luna, to the moon. 
 Hot. The moon was a month old when Adam 
 was no more, 40 
 
 And raught^ not to five weeks when he came 
 to five-score. 
 
 1 Raiight, reached. 
 25
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 Th' allusion holds in the exchange. 42 
 
 Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds 
 in the exchange. 
 
 Hoi. God conifurt thy cajmcity I I say, th' 
 allusion holds in the exchange. 
 ' Dull. Antl I say, the poUusion holds in the 
 exchange ; for the moon is never but a month 
 old : and I say beside that, 't was a pricket 
 that the princess kill'd. 50 
 
 ^IIol. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an ex- 
 temjioral epitaph on the death of the deer? 
 And, to humr)ur the ignorant, call the deer 
 the princess killed a pricket. 
 
 Kath. Perge, good Master Holof ernes, joe/'y<;; 
 so it shall please you to abrogate scurrility. 
 
 H<A. I will something affect the letter,' for 
 it argues facility. 
 
 The preyful princess pierc'd and prick Vl a pretty 
 pleasing pricket ; 
 
 Some say a sore;- but not a sore, till now made 
 sore with shooting. 
 The dogs did yell : put L to soro, then sorel'' jumps 
 from thicket ; 60 
 
 Or pricket sore, or else sorel ; the peoi)lc fall a- 
 hooting. 
 If sore V)e sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores o' 
 
 sorel. 
 Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one 
 more L. 
 
 Nath. A rare talent. 
 
 Dull. {Aside\ If a talent be a claw, look 
 how he claws him with a talent. 
 
 Hoi. This is a gift that I have, simple, 
 simple; a fooli.sh extravagant s])irit, full of 
 forms, figures, sluipes, objects, ideas, ajjprt,-- 
 hensions, motions, revolutions : these are be- 
 got in the ventricle of memory, nourish'd in 
 the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon 
 the mellowing of occasion. But the gift is 
 good in those in whom it is acute, and I am 
 thankful for it. 
 
 Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you : and 
 so may my parishioners; for their sons are 
 well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit 
 very gi'eatly under you : you are a good mem- 
 ber of the commonwealth. ro 
 
 Hoi. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, 
 they shall want no instruction; if their daugh- 
 
 1 Affect the letter, practise alliteration. 
 ' Sore, "soare," a buck in his fourth year 
 * Sorel, a buck in his tliinl year 
 26 
 
 ters be capable, I will put it to them: but virl 
 sapit qui pauca loquitur; a soul feminine -^ 
 .sjiluteth us. ] S4 : 
 
 Enter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Jaq. God give you good morrow, master 
 
 Person''. 
 Hoi. Master Person, quasi pers-one^. An 
 if one .should be jiierc'd, which is the one? 
 
 Coat. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that 
 is likest to a hogshead. 
 
 Hul. O — ])iercing a hog.shead I a good lustre 
 of conceit in a tuft of earth; fire enough for a 
 flint, pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it 
 is well. 92 
 
 Jaq. Good master Parson, be so good as read 
 me this letter: it was given me by Cosfcird, 
 and sent me frcjm Don Armado: I beseech you, 
 I'ead it. 
 
 Hoi. ^Fauste, precor, gelidd quando pecus^ 
 omne sub umJ»xi liuminat, — and so forth.] 
 Ah, good old MantuanI I may .speak of thee^ 
 as the traveller doth of Venice; 
 Yenetia, Venetia, 
 Chi non ti rede non tipretia. 100 
 
 Old Mantuan,old Mantuan I who understandeth / 
 thee not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. ]_• 
 Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or 
 rather, as Horace .says in bin— (lool-ing over 
 Nathaniel's shoulder) What, my soul, verses? 
 Nath. Ay, sir, and very learned. 
 Jlol. Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; 
 h'ye, dominc. 
 
 Nath. \reads\ 
 "If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to 
 love? 
 Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed! 
 Though to myself forsworn, to thee I '11 faithful 
 prove ; ill 
 
 Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like 
 osiers bowed. 
 Q Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine 
 eyes, 
 Wliere all those pleasures live that art would com- 
 prehend : ( 
 If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ; 
 Well learned is that tongue that well can thee com- 
 mend, ( 
 All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; ^ 
 
 * Person, the old form of parson. 
 5 Pers-one, pierce-one.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire: 
 
 ( Thy eye Jove's hghtning bears, thy voice his dread- 
 
 ' ful thunder, 119 
 
 Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. ] 
 
 Celestial as thou art, 0, pardon love this wrong-, 
 
 That singeth heaven's praise with such an earthly 
 
 tongue." 
 
 Hoi. You find not the apostroplias, and .so 
 
 miss the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. 
 
 Here are only numbers ratified ; but, for the 
 
 elegancy, facility, and golden cadence of poesy, 
 
 learet. [^Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, 
 
 ( indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the odori- 
 
 /ferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention? 
 
 ' Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his mas- 
 
 <:ter, the ape his keeper, the tyred ^ horse his 
 
 ( rider. ] But, damosella virgin, was this directed 
 
 to you? 132 
 
 Jaq. Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one 
 
 of the strange queen's lords. 
 
 Hoi. I will overglance the superscript: 
 "To the snow-white hand of the most beauteous 
 Lady Rosaline." 
 
 I will look again on the intellect of the letter, 
 for the nomination of the party writing to the 
 peison written unto : 
 
 " Your ladyship's in all desired employment, Biron." 
 Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries 
 with the king; and here he hath framed a 
 letter to a sequent of the stranger queen's, 
 which accidentally, or by the way of progres- 
 sion, hath miscaiTied. Trip and go, my sweet ; 
 deliver this paper into the royal hand of the 
 king: it may concern much. Stay not thy 
 compliment; I foi'give thy duty: adieu. 
 
 Jaq. Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God 
 save your life ! loO 
 
 Cost. Have with thee, my girl. 
 
 \^Exeu)it Cost, and Jaq. 
 ^ XatJt. Sir, you have done this in the fear 
 /of God, very religiously; and, as a certain 
 father saith, — 
 
 Hoi. Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear 
 
 colourable colours.- But to return to the 
 
 ', verses : did they please you. Sir Nathaniel ? 
 
 Nath. Marvellous well for the ])en. 
 
 Hoi. I do dine to-day at the father's of a 
 
 < certain pupil of mine; where, if, before repast, 
 
 1 Tyred, adorned with trappings. 
 
 - Colourable colours, specious appearances. 
 
 it shall jjlease you to gi'atify the table with aS 
 grace, I will, on my privilege I have with the > 
 parents of the foresaid child or pupil, under- } 
 take your ben venuto; where I will prove; 
 those verses to be very unlearned, neither^ 
 savouring of poetiy, wit, nor invention: I be-; 
 seech your society. i6ii> 
 
 Nath. And thank you too; for society, saith' 
 the text, is the happiness of life. 
 
 Hoi. And, certes, the text most infallibly 
 concludes it. \_To Ball] Sir, I do invite you^ 
 too ; you shall not say me nay : pauca verba. ) 
 Away! the gentles are at their game, and we( 
 will to our recreation. ] [ Exeunt. < 
 
 Scene III. The same. 
 Enter Biron, with a paper. 
 Biron. The king he is liunting the deer; I 
 am coursing myself : Q they have pitch'd a toil ; > 
 I am toiling in a pitch, — pitch that defiles:/ 
 defile! a foul word. Well, sit thee down, sor- / 
 row I for so they say the fool said, and so say/ 
 I, and I the fool: well proved, wit! By the/ 
 Lord, this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills / 
 sheep ; it kills me, I a sheep : well proved ^ 
 again o' my side ! ] I will not love : if I do, !; 
 hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her eye, 
 — by this light, but for her eye, I would not 
 love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do 
 nothing in the world but lie, and lie in my 
 throat. By heaven, I do love : and it hath 
 taught me to rhyme and to be melancholy; 
 and here is part of my rhyme, and here my 
 melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my son- 
 nets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent 
 it, and the lady hath it: sweet clowni, sweeter 
 fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would 
 not care a pin, if the other three were in. 
 Here comes one with a pajaer : (iod give him 
 gi-ace to groan! [C'oneeals himself among the 
 branches of a tree. 
 
 Enter the King, vith a paper. 
 
 King. Ay me ! 21 
 
 Biron. [Aside] Shot, by heaven ! Proceed, 
 
 sweet Cupid : thou hast thump'd him with thy 
 
 bird-bolt under the left pap. In faith, secrets ! 
 
 King [reads]. 
 ' ' So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not 
 To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, 
 27
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smot^ 
 
 The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: 
 Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 30 
 
 Through the transparent bosom of the deep, 
 As doth thy face through tears of mine give light : 
 
 Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weefj: 
 No drop but as a coach doth carry thee ; 
 
 So ridest thou triuuipliing in my woe. 
 Do but behold the tears that swell in me. 
 
 And they thy glory through my grief will show: 
 But do not love thyself ; then thou wilt keep 
 My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. 40 
 
 (pieen of queens ! how far dost thou excel, 
 No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell — " 
 
 How shall she know my griefs ? I "11 drop the 
 
 paj)er : 
 Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes 
 
 here ? [Conceals himself. 
 
 What, Longaville I and reading I listen, ear. 
 Diron. Now, in thy likeness, one more fool 
 
 appear I 
 
 Enter Loxgaville, u-lth a paper. 
 
 Long. Ay me, I am forsworn ! 
 Biron. Why, he comes in like a perjure, 
 wearing ])apers.- 
 
 Kincj. In love, I hope : sweet fellowship in 
 
 shame I 
 Biron. One drunkard loves another of the 
 name. bO 
 
 Long. Am I the first that have been per- 
 
 jui''d sol 
 Biron. I could put thee in comfort. Not by 
 two that I know: 
 QThou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap 
 ; of society, 
 
 ^The shai)e of Love's Tyburn that hangs up 
 ^ simplicity. ] 
 
 Long. I fear these stul)born lines lack jjower 
 to move. 
 O sweet Maria, empress of my hjve I 
 These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. 
 Biron. O, rhymes are guai'ds^ on wanton 
 Cupid's hose: 
 Disfigure not his shape. 
 
 Long. This same shall go. — [Heads. 
 
 1 Siiint = smote, so all the old copies. Tlie rhyme re- 
 ()uires this obsolete form. 
 
 - Papers, papers describing tlie crime worn on the 
 l>reast of the condemned perjurer. 
 
 ^ Guards, oriianieuts, triiiniiings. 
 28 
 
 " Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, co 
 
 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, 
 Persuade my heart to this false perjiu-y? 
 
 Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. 
 A woman I foi'swore; but I will prove, 
 
 Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: 
 My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 
 
 Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. 
 Vows arc but breath, and breath a vapour is: 
 
 Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, 
 Exhal'st this vapour- vow; in thee it is: Vo 
 
 If broken then, it is no fault of mine: 
 If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
 To lose an oath to win a paradise .' " 
 
 Biron. This is the liver- vein,'' which makes 
 flesh a deity, 
 A green goose a goddess: ])ure, pure idolatry. 
 God amend us, God amend I we are much out 
 o' th' way. 
 Long. By whom shall I send this? — Com- 
 pany! stay. [Conceals himself. 
 Biron. All hid, all hid ; ;ui old infant play. 
 Like a demigod heie sit I in the .sky. 
 And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. 
 More sacks to the mill I O heavens, I have my 
 Avish ! 81 
 
 Enter Dujiain, with a papter. 
 
 Dumain transform'd ! four woodcocks in a 
 
 dish ! 
 J)nm. O most divine Kate I 
 Biron. O most prcjfane coxcoml) ! 
 Dtnn. By heaven, the wonder in a mortal 
 
 eye! 
 Biron. By earth, .she is not, corporal, there 
 
 you lie. 
 Dum. Her amber hair for foul hath amber 
 
 coted.^ 
 Biron. An amber-colour'd raven was well 
 
 noted. 
 Dam. As uj^right as the cedar. 
 Biro)i. Stoops, I say; 
 
 Her shoulder is with child. 
 
 Dum. As fair as day. oo 
 
 Biron. Ay, as some days; but then no sun 
 
 must shine. 
 Dum. O that I had my wish I 
 iMng. And I had mine! 
 
 King. And I mine too, good Lord ! 
 
 * Licer cciii, the liver was supposed to be the seat of 
 love. * Cuted, surpassed.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT lY. Sceue 3. 
 
 Biron. Amen, so I had mine : is not that a 
 good word? s-i 
 
 ' \lBum. I would forget her; but a fever she 
 Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be. 
 Biron. A fever in your blood I why, then 
 incision 
 ^ Would let her out in saucers: sweet mispri- 
 sion!] 
 Buni. Once more I'll read the ode that I 
 
 have writ. 
 Biron. Once more 1 11 mark how love can 
 vary wit. lOO 
 
 JJiDii. [reads] 
 
 " On a day— alack the day !— 
 Love, whose month is ever May, 
 Spied a blossom passing fair 
 Playing in the wanton air: 
 Through the velvet leaves the wind. 
 All unseen, gan passage find; 
 That the lover, sick to death, 
 Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
 Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
 Ah! would I might triumph so! 110 
 
 But, alack, my hand is sworn 
 Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn; 
 Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, 
 Youth so apt to pluck a sweet ! 
 Do not call it sin in me, 
 That I am forsworn for thee; 
 Thou for whom great Jove would swear 
 Juno but an Ethiope were; 
 And deny himself for Jove, 
 Turning mortal for thy love." 120 
 
 This will I send; and something else more 
 
 plain, 
 That shall express my true love's fasting pain. 
 O, would tlie king, Biron, and Longaville, 
 Were lovers too I 111, to example ill, 
 Would f]'om my forehead wipe a perjur'd 
 
 note ; 
 For none offend where all alike do dote. 
 Long. \_ailrancin<j\. Dumain, thy love is far 
 
 from charity. 
 That in love's grief desir'st society: 
 You may look pale, but I shoidd blush, I know, 
 To be o'erheard, and taken napping so. 130 
 King. \advanciyvj\. Come, sir, you blush; as 
 
 his, your case is such; 
 You chide at him, offending twice as much; 
 You do not love Maria; Longaville 
 Bid never sonnet for her sake compile, 
 Noi' never lay his wreathed arms athwart 
 
 His loving bosom to keep down his heart. 
 I have been closely shrouded in this bush \T, 
 And mark'd you both and for you both did 
 
 blush : 
 I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your 
 
 fashion, 
 
 Lung. {advanmmV . ■ . You may look pale, but I should 
 blush, I kuiiw. 
 To be erheard, and taken napping so. 
 
 Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your pas- 
 sion: 1-10 
 
 Ay me ! says one; O Jove ! the other cries; 
 
 One, her hair's gold; crystal the other's eyes: 
 
 \To Long.] You Avould for paradise break faith 
 and troth; 
 
 \_To I>2im.] And Jove, for your love, would in- 
 fringe an oath. 
 
 29
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 What will Biron Siiy when that he shall hear 
 
 A faith infringed, which i^uch zeal did swear? 
 
 How will he storn ! how will he spend his wit! 
 
 How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it! 
 
 For all the wealth that ever I did see, 149 
 
 I would not have him know so much by me. 
 Biron. Now step I forth to whip hypoc- 
 risy. — [-1 dvancing. 
 
 Ah, good my liege, I pi-ay thee, pardon me ! 
 
 Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to re- 
 prove 
 
 These worms for loving, that art most in love? 
 
 Your eyes do make no coaches^ ; in your tears 
 
 There is no cei-fciin princess that appears: 
 
 You'll not be pei-jur'd, 'tis a hateful thing; 
 
 Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting ! 
 
 But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not. 
 
 All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? 
 
 You found this mote; the king your mote did 
 sec; 101 
 
 But I a beam do tind in each of three. 
 
 0, what a scene of fool'ry have I seen. 
 
 Of sighs, of gi'oaus, of sorrow and of teen'.- 
 
 me, with what strict patience have I sat. 
 To see a king transformed to a gnat! 
 
 To see great Hercules whipping a gig. 
 And profound Solomon to tune a jig, 
 And Nestor play at push-pin with the boy.s, 
 And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! iro 
 
 Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? 
 And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? 
 And where my liege's? all about the breast: 
 A caudle, ho ! 
 
 King. Too bitter is thy jest. 
 Are we beti-ayed thus to thy over-\dew ? 
 
 Biron. Not you to me, but I betrayed by you : 
 
 1, that am honest; I, that hold it sin 
 To break the vow I am engaged in; 
 
 1 am betrayed, l)y keejnng company 179 
 With men, like men — of strange inconstancy. 
 When shall you .see me write a thing in rhyme ? 
 Or groan for Joan? or .spend a minute's time 
 In ])runing^ me? When shall you hear that I 
 Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 
 
 A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, 
 A leg, a limb? 
 
 1 Coaches. .See above in King's sonnet. 
 
 " No drop but as a ' coach ' cloth carry thee." 
 
 2 Teen, Kiief. 
 
 3 Pruning, as a bird "pruning" Ijis featliers. 
 
 30 
 
 King. Soft! whither away so fast ? isc. 
 
 A true man or a thief that g:illops so ? 
 
 Biron. I post from love : good lover, let me go. 
 
 Knter Jaquenetta and Costard. 
 
 Jaq. God bless the king ! 
 King. What present hast thou there? 
 
 ( ost. Some certain treason. 
 King. What makes treason here?" 190 
 
 Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 
 King. If it mar nothing neither. 
 
 The treason and you go in jteace away together. 
 Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be 
 read: 
 Our person* misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he 
 said. 
 King. Biron, read it over. 
 
 [(Jiving him the paper. 
 Where hadst thou it? 
 Jaq. Of Costard. 
 King. Whei'e hadst thou it? 
 Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. 
 [Biron tears the letter. 
 King. How now I what is in you ? why dost 
 thou tear it? -joo 
 
 Biron. A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace 
 
 needs not fear it. 
 Long. It did move him to passion, and 
 
 therefore let 's hear it. 
 Bum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his 
 name. [Gathering up the pieces. 
 
 Biron. [ To Costard^ Ah, you whoreson log- 
 gerhead ! you were born to do me shame. 
 Guilty, my lord, guilty ! I confess, I confess. 
 King. What^ 
 
 Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool 
 to make uji the mess: 
 He, he, and you; and you, my liege, and I, 
 Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. 
 O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you 
 more. 210 
 
 Burn. Now the number is even. 
 Biron. True, ti'ue; we are four. 
 
 Will these tui-tles be gone? 
 
 King. Hence, sirs ; away ! 
 
 Co.'it. Walk aside the true folk, and let the 
 traitors stay. 
 
 [E.veunt Costard and Jaquenetta. 
 
 * Person, parson.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us 
 embrace! 214 
 
 As ti'iie we are as flesh and blood can be: 
 The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his 
 face; 
 Young blood doth not obey an old decree : 
 We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; 
 Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. 
 
 King. What, did these rent lines show some 
 love of thine ^ -i-ia 
 
 Biron. Did they I AVho sees the heavenly 
 Rosaline, 
 That, like a rude and savage man of Indc, 
 
 At the first opening of the georgeous east. 
 Bows not his vassal head, and, strucken blind, 
 Kisses the base ground with obeilient breast] 
 
 Biron. {advancing]. 
 
 Ah, gouU my liege, I pray thee, pardon me ! 
 
 "\^"liat peremptory eagle-sighted eye 
 
 Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
 That is not blinded by her majesty ] 
 
 King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd 
 thee now? 
 My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; iwq 
 
 She an attending star, scarce seen a light. 
 Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron : 
 O, but for my love, day would turn to 
 night! 
 Q Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 
 Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, 
 Where several worthies make one dignity, 
 I Where nothing wants that want itself doth 
 ' seek. 
 
 Lend me the floui-ish of all gentle tongues, — ' 
 
 Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it notx 
 To things of sale a seller's praise belongs, 240 ( 
 
 She passes praise ; then praise too shoi-t doth \ 
 blot. ] ^ 
 
 A withered hermit, five-score winters worn. 
 
 Might shake ofl" fifty, lo(jking in her eye : 
 Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born. 
 
 And gives the cnitch the cradle's infancy: 
 O, 't is the Sim that maketh all things shine. 
 
 King. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. 
 Biron. Is ebony like her 1 O ^\ood di\'ine ! 
 
 A wife of such wood were felicity. 249 
 
 O, who can give an oath? where is a book? 
 
 That I may swear beauty doth Ijeauty lack, 
 31
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 If that she learn not of lier eye to look: l'.'.j 
 
 No face is fair that is not full so black. 
 King. O paradox ! Black is the badge of hell, 
 The hue of dungeons and the school of night ; 
 And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. 
 Biron. Devils soonest tempt, resembling 
 spirits of light. 
 O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd, 
 
 It mourns that })ainting and usurping hair 
 Should ravish doters with a false aspect; 200 
 And therefore is she born to make black fair. 
 ''QHer favour turns the fashion of the days, 
 / For native blood is counted painting now; 
 ('Ajid therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, 
 i Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. ] 
 Dum. To look like her are chimney-sweepei-s 
 black. 
 Long. And since her time are colliers count- 
 ed bright. 
 King. And Ethiopes of theii- sweet complexion 
 crack. 1 
 Duni. Dark needs no candles now, for dark 
 is light. 
 Biron. Youi* mistresses dare never come in 
 rain, -jvo 
 
 For fear their coloui's should be wash'd away. 
 King. 'Twere good, yours did; foi-, sir, to tell 
 you plain, 
 I 'II find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. 
 Biron. I '11 prove her fair, or Uilk till doomsday 
 here. 
 King. No devil will fright thee then so 
 much as she. 
 Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuflf so dear. 
 Long. Look, here's thy love: my foot and 
 her face see. 
 \ Q Biron. O, if the streets were paved with thine 
 
 < eyes, 
 
 < Her feet were much too dainty for such tread ! 
 <' Dum. O vile I then, as she goes, what upward 
 ( lies -280 
 
 < The street should see as she walk'd over- 
 ', head. 3 
 
 King. But wliat of this? ai'e we not all in love ? 
 Biron. Nothing so sure; and thereby all for- 
 sworn. 
 
 King. Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, 
 now prove 
 
 I Crack, boast. 
 32 
 
 Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. 285 
 Dum. Ay, marry, there; some tlattery for this 
 evil. 
 
 Jjong. O, some authority how to jiroceed; 
 Some tricks, some quillets-, how to cheat the 
 devil. 
 
 Dum. Some salve for perjury. 
 
 Biron. O 't is more than need. 
 
 Have at you, then, aflection's men at arms. 
 Oonsider what you first did swear unto, 291 
 To fast, to study, and to see no woman; 
 Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. 
 Say, can you fast? youi' stomachs are too 
 
 young; 
 And abstinence engenders maladies. 
 And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, 
 In that each of you have forsworn his book, 
 ( -an you still dream, and pore, and thereon look ? ^ 
 t Why, universal jjlodding i)risons up » 
 
 The nimble spiiits in the arteries, ^ 
 
 As motion and long-during action tires ' 
 
 The sinewy vigour of the traveller. < 
 
 Now, for not looking on a woman's face, ^ 
 
 You have in that forsworn the use of eyes, { 
 And study too, the causer of your vow; 311s 
 For where is any author in the world < 
 
 Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? ] ^ 
 Learning is but an adjunct to ourself. 
 And where we are, our learning likewise is: 
 Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, 
 Do we not likewise see our learning there 1 
 O, we have made a vow to study, lords, 
 And in that vow we have forsworn oui- books. 
 For when would you, my liege, or 3'ou, or you. 
 In leaden contemplation have found out 321 
 Such fieiy luimbers, as the prompting eyes 
 Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with ? 
 Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; 
 And therefore, finding barren i)ractisers. 
 Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: 
 But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
 Lives not alone immured in the brain; 
 But, with the motion of all elements, 
 Courses as swift as thought in every power. 
 And gives to every power a double powei', 
 Above their functions and their offices. 332 
 Qlt adds a precious seeing to the eye; 
 
 2 Quillets, legal quibbles. 
 
 8 Lines 299-304 Globe Eil. omitted here.
 
 ACT IV. Sceue 3. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind : :y.ii 
 A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
 When the suspicious head of theft is stopj)M: 
 Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, 
 Than are the tender horns of cockled^ snails; 
 Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in 
 
 taste: 
 For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 340 
 
 Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? 
 Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical 
 As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; 
 /And when Love sjieaks, the voice of all the 
 
 gods 
 Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 Never durst poet touch a pen to write. 
 Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; 
 /O, then his lines would ravish savage ears 
 / A nd plant in tyrants mild humility. ] 
 From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 300 
 They s])arkle still the right Promethean fire; 
 They ai-e the books, the arts, the academes. 
 That show, contain, and nourish all the world: 
 Else none at all in aught proves excellent : 
 Then fools you were these women to forswear; 
 Or, keejjing what is sworn, you will prove fools. 
 For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love. 
 Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men. 
 Or for men's sake, the authors of these women. 
 Or women's sake, by whom we men are men, 
 Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves. 
 Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. 
 It is religion to be thus forsworn; :!(;:i 
 
 For charity itself fulfils the law, 
 
 And who can sever love from charity? 3G5 
 Kiiic/. Saint Cupid, then I and, soldiers, to 
 
 the field ! 
 Biron. Advance your standards, and upon 
 them, lords; 
 Pell-mell, down with them 1 but be first ad- 
 
 vis'd. 
 In conflict that you get the sun of them. 
 Long. Nowto ))lain-dealing; lay these glozes 
 by : 370 
 
 Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ? 
 King. And win them too : therefore let us 
 devise 
 Some entertainment for them in their tents. 
 Biron. First, from the pai-k let us conduct 
 them thither; 
 Then homeward every man attach the hand 
 Of his fair mistress : in the afternoon 
 We will with some strange pastime solace 
 
 them. 
 Such as the shortness of the time can shape; 
 For revels, dances, ma.sks and merry hours 
 Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with 
 flowers. 3 so 
 
 King. Away, away I no time shall be omitted 
 That will betime, and may by us be fitted. 
 [I Biron. Allans ! ulloas! Sow'd cockle reap'd' 
 no corn; ) 
 
 And justice always whirls in equal measure:^ 
 Light wenches may 2)rove plagues to men for- \ 
 
 sworn ; ' 
 
 If so, our copper buys no better treasure. ] \ 
 
 [ Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. Tlie same. 
 
 Eater Holgfernes, Sir Nathaniel, 
 and Dull. 
 
 Hoi. Satis quod sufficit. 
 
 Nath. I praise God for you, sir : your rea- 
 sons at dinner have been sharp and senten- 
 tious; pleasant without scurrility, witty with- 
 out affection 2, audacious without impudency, 
 
 • Cockled, furnished with shells. 
 '■* Affection, affectation. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 learned without opinion, and strange without 
 heresy. I did converse this quondam day 
 with a companion of the king's, who is inti- 
 tuled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de 
 Armado. 
 
 Hoi. Novi hominem tanquam te: his lunnour 
 is lofty, his discourse ])eremptory, his tongue 
 filed ^, his eye ambitious, his gait majestical, 
 and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and 
 
 ^ Filed, over-polished. 
 
 33 3
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 thrasonical*. He is too picked-, too spruce, ' ciable and ])uiiit-devise* companiuus : such 
 
 too affected, too odd, as it weie, too peregrin- 
 ate ■, as I may call it. 16 
 
 Xath. A most singular and choice epithet. 
 [^J)rairs out his talile-hook. 
 
 //of. He draweth out the thread of his ver- 
 bosity finer than tlie staple of his argument. 
 I abhor such fanatical phantasimes, such inso- 
 
 rackei*s of orthograjjhy, a.s to speak "dout," 
 fine, when he should siiy "douLt;" "det," when 
 he should ])rononnce "debt,"- — d, e, b, t, not 
 d, e, t: he clepeth a "calf," "caiif;" "half," 
 " hauf ; " " neighbour " vacatur " nebour ; " 
 "neigh" abbreviated "ne." This is abhomin- 
 able, — which he would call abbominable : it 
 
 
 .•l)'»i. Meu of peace, well eiuiiuuteri.U. 
 
 in.sinuateth me of insanie — ne intelUgis, dom- 
 ine? to make frantic, lunatic. 
 
 jVat/i. Lans Don, hone, inteUigo. .■^o 
 
 llol. Bone? — lione,ioYhene: Pi-iscian a little 
 scratch'd ; 't will sei've. 
 
 Xath. Videsne qnix venit? 
 
 llol. Video, et gavdeo. 
 
 l-lnfpr Armado, Moth, mxd Costard. 
 
 Arm. Chirrah! [To Moth. 
 
 I/ol. Quare "chirrah," not "sin-ah?" 
 Arm. Men of jieace, well encountered. 
 
 1 Thramnical, lirafr^in?- ^ Picked, foppish. 
 
 " F^ereijrinate, like a foreigner; literally, travelleil 
 
 34 
 
 I/ol. Most military sir, salutation. 
 
 MotJi. [Aside to Costard^ They have been 
 at a gi-eat feast of languages, and stolen the 
 scraps. 40 
 
 Cost. O, they have livM long on the alms- 
 basket of words. I marvel thy master hath 
 not eaten thee for a word; for thou ai't not so 
 long by the head as }iono7'ificahilitiidinitatil>us: 
 thou art easier swallowed than a flap-dragon^. 
 
 Moth. Peace ! the peal begins. 
 
 Arm. [To Jfol.] IMonsieur, are yon not 
 letter'd? 
 
 Mot/i. Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn- 
 
 * Point-devise, over-exact, very precise. 
 ^ Flap-dragon = &u&p-dra^(in.
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1. 
 
 LOVES LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 book. What is a, b, .spelt backward, ynth the 
 horn on his head ( 51 
 
 JIol. Ba, pueritia, with a horn added. 
 
 Moth. Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. 
 You hear his learning. 
 
 \^Hol. Qiiis, quis, thou consonant? 
 
 Moth. The thii-d of the five vowels, if you 
 repeat them ; or the fifth, if I. 
 
 Jfol. I will repeat them, — a, e, i, — 
 
 Moth. The shee]): the other two concludes 
 it, — o, u. t;o 
 
 Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Medi- 
 terraneum, a sweet touch, a quick venew^ of 
 wit ! snip, snap, quick and home ! it rejoiceth 
 my intellect : true wit! 
 
 Moth. Offered by a child to an old man ; 
 which is wit-old. 
 
 Hoi. What is the figure? what is the figure? 
 
 Moth. Horns. 
 
 Hoi. Thou disputest like an infant : go, 
 whip thy gig'-. 70 
 
 Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, and 
 I will whip about your infamy circinn drca, 
 — a gig of a cuckold's horn. ] 
 
 Cost. An I had but one penny in the world, 
 thou shouldst have it to buy gingerbread : 
 hold, there is the very remuneration I had of 
 thy master, thou halfpenny purse of wit, thou 
 pigeon-egg of discretion. Q O, an the heavens 
 were so pleased that thou wert but my ba.stard, 
 what a joyful father wouldst thou make me I ] 
 Go to; thou hast it ad durtyhill, at the fingers' 
 ends, as they say. 82 
 
 Hoi. O, I smell false Latin; "dunghill" for 
 unguem. 
 
 Ann. Ai-ts-man, preambulate; we will be 
 singuled from the barbarous. Do you not 
 educate youth at the charge-house-' on the toj) 
 of the mountain ? 
 
 Hoi. Or mons, the hill. 
 
 Ann. At your sweet pleasure, for the moun- 
 tain. 90 
 
 Hoi. I do, sans question. 
 
 Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet jjlea- 
 sure and affection to congi-atulate the jjrincess 
 at her 2)a\'ilion in the posteriors of this day, 
 which the i-ude multitude call the afternoon. 
 
 ' Vetiew, a hit at fencing, 
 s Charge-house, school-house. 
 
 Gig, a top. 
 
 Hal. The posterior of the day, most generous 
 sir, is liable, congruent and measurable for the 
 afternoon : the word is well cull'd, chose, sweet 
 and apt, I do assure you, sir, I do assure. 90 
 
 Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, 
 and my familiar, I do assure ye, very good 
 friend : for what is inward * between vis, let 
 it pass. QI do beseech thee, remember thy' 
 courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy head : > 
 and among other important and most serious ^ 
 designs, and of gi-eat import indeed, too, but; 
 let that pass : for I must tell thee, it will > 
 please his grace, by the world, sometime to; 
 lean upon my poor shoulder, and with his^ 
 royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement,) 
 with my mustachio; but, sweet heart, let that^ 
 pa.ss. ] By the world, I recount no fable : some ) 
 certain s]>ecial honours it pleaseth his gi-eat- 
 ness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of 
 travel, that hath seen the world ; but let 
 that pass. The very all of all is, — but, sweet 
 heart, I do implore secrecy, — that the king 
 would have me present the princess, sweet 
 chuck, with some delightful ostentation, or 
 show, or pageant, or antic, or firework. Now, 
 understanding that the cui-ate and your sweet 
 self are good at such eruptions and sudden 
 breaking out of mirth, as it were, I have ac- 
 quainted you withal, to the end to crave your 
 assistance. \2?, 
 
 Hoi. Sii-, you shall present before her the 
 Nine Worthies. Sir Nathaniel, as concerning 
 some entertiiinment of time, some show in the 
 posterior of this day, to be rendered by our 
 assistants, at the king's command, and this 
 most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentle- 
 man, before the princess; I say none so fit as 
 to present the Nine Worthies. 130 
 
 Xath. Where will you find men worthy 
 enough to present them ? 
 
 Hoi. Jo.shua, yourself; myself — and this gal- 
 lant gentleman, Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, 
 because of his great limb or joint, shall pass 
 as Pompey the Great; the page, Hercules, — 
 
 Ann. Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity 
 enough for that Worthy's thumb: he is not so 
 big as the end of his club. 139 
 
 Hoi. Shall I have audience? he shall present 
 
 * Inward, confidential. 
 35
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene L' 
 
 Hercules in minority: his enter and exit shall 
 be strangling a snake; and I will have an 
 apology for that purjjose. 14;; 
 
 Moth. An excellent device I so, if any of the 
 audience hiss, you may cry " Well done, Hei-- 
 cules ! now thou crushest the snake ! " that is 
 the way to make an otFence gracious, though 
 few have the gi-ace to do it. 
 
 Arm. For the rest of the Worthies? — 
 
 Hoi. I will play three myself. I'-o 
 
 Moth. Thrice- worthy gentleman ! 
 
 Arm. Shall I tell you a thing? 
 
 Hoi. We attend. 
 
 Arm. We will have, if this fadge^ not, an 
 antic. I beseech you, follow. 
 
 Hoi. Via, goodman Dull ! thou hast spoken 
 no word all this while. 
 
 Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir. 
 
 Hoi. Allons ! we will employ thee. 
 
 Dull. I'U make one in a dance, or so; or I 
 will play 160 
 
 On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them 
 dance the hey. 
 
 Hoi. Most dull, honest Dull ! To our sport, 
 away ! [ Exeunt. 
 
 Scene II. The same. 
 
 Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, 
 and Maria. 
 
 Prill. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we 
 depart. 
 If fairings come thus jilentifully in : 
 A lady wall'd about with diamonds ! 
 Look you what I have from the loving king. 
 Ros. Madame, came nothing else along with 
 
 that? 
 Prill. Nothing but this ! ye.s, as much love 
 in rhyme 
 As would be cranim'd up in a sheet of paper. 
 Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, 
 That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. 
 Ros. That was the way to make his god- 
 head wax, 10 
 For he hath been five thousand years a boy. 
 Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. 
 Ros. You '11 ne'er be friends with him ; a' 
 kill'd vour sister. 
 
 • Fadge, suit. 
 36 
 
 Kat/i. He made her melancholy, sad, and 
 heavy ; I4 
 
 And so she died: had vshe been light, like you, 
 Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, 
 She might ha' been a grandam ere she died : 
 And so may you; for a light heart lives long. 
 Ros. What 's your dark meaning, mouse, of 
 
 this light word? 
 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. 
 Ros. We need more light to find your mean- 
 ing out. '.'1 
 Kath. You'll mar the light by taking it in 
 snuti"'^; 
 Therefore 1 '11 darkly end the argument. 
 
 £ Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i' ) 
 the dark. ^ 
 
 Kath. So do not you, for you are a light 
 
 wench. 
 Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore 
 
 light. 
 Kath. You weigh me not? O, that's you 
 
 care not for me. ^ 
 
 Ros. Great reason ; for " past cure is .still / 
 past care." ] ,; 
 
 J'rin. Well bandied both; a .set-' of wit well 
 play'd. 
 But, Rosaline, you have a favour too : 30 
 
 Who sent it ? and wliat is it ? 
 
 Ros. I would you knew: 
 
 An if my face were but as fair as yours. 
 My favour were as great ; be witness this. 
 Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron: 
 The numbers true ; and, were the numbering 
 
 too, 
 I were the faire.st goddess on the ground : 
 I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. 
 O, he hath drawn my j)icture in his letter I 
 Prin. Any thing like ? 
 
 Ros. Much in the letters ; nothing in the 
 praise. 40 
 
 J'rin. Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion. 
 Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book. 
 Ros. 'Ware pensils, ho I let me not die your 
 debtor, 
 My red dominical, my golden letter: 
 O that your face were not S(j full of O's^ ! 
 
 2 In snvff, in anger. ^ A set, a set (at tennis). 
 
 * Full o/O's, referring to the round pit-marks of small- 
 pox.
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Kath. Pox of that jest ! and I beskrew all 
 shrows. 4t; 
 
 Prill. But, what was sent to you from fair 
 Dumaiu ? 
 
 Kath. Madam, this glove. 
 
 Prill. Did he not send you twain? 
 
 Katli. Yes, madam, and moreover 
 Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, sn 
 
 ACT v. Scene 2. 
 51 
 
 A huge translation of hypocrisy, 
 Vilely compil'd, profound simi)licity. 
 
 Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Lon- 
 gaville : 
 The letter is too long by half a mile. 
 
 Prill. 1 think no less. Dost thou not wish 
 in heart 
 The chain were longer, and the letter short? 
 
 Pi-ill. Well lianilied both ; a set of wit well play"'l- 
 
 Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might 
 
 never part. 
 Prill. We ai-e wise girls to mock our lovers so. 
 Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mock- 
 ing so. 
 That same Biron I'll torture ere I go: no 
 
 O that I knew he were but in by th' week ! 
 How I Would make him fawn, and beg, and 
 
 seek, 
 And wait the season, and observe the times, 
 And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes, 
 And shape his service all to my behests. 
 And make him proud to make me proud that 
 jests : 
 
 So portent-like would I o'ersway his state. 
 That he should be my fool, and I his fate. 
 
 Prill. None are so surely caught, when they 
 are catch'd, 
 As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd. 
 Hath wisdom's warrant and the \w\\> of school, 
 And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. 
 
 Has. The blood of youth Imrns not with 
 such excess t:; 
 
 As gravity's revolt to wantonness. 
 
 Mar. Folly in fools bears not .so strong a note 
 As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote ; 
 Since all the power thereof it doth apply 
 To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. 
 37 
 
 43187S2
 
 ACT V. Sceue 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 
 
 Prin. Here comes Boyet, and niiitli is in 
 his face. 79 
 
 Enter Boyet. 
 
 Bojiet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter I 
 
 Where 's lier grace ? so 
 
 Prin. Thy news, Boyet? 
 
 Boyet. Preimre, madam, ])repare I 
 
 Ai'm, wenches, ann ! encounters mounted are 
 
 Against your peace : Love doth approach dis- 
 
 gnis'd, 
 Armed in arguments; you'll be surpris'd: 
 Muster youi' wits; stand in your own defence; 
 Or hide your lieads like cowards, and ily hence. 
 Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid 1 What 
 
 are they 
 That charge their breath against us? say, 
 
 scout, siiy. 
 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore 
 I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; 
 When, lo! to interrupt my purpos'd rest, 91 
 Towai'd that shade I might liehold addrest 
 The king and his companions: warily 
 I stole into a neighbour thicket by, 
 And overheard what you shall overhear; 
 Tliat, by and by, disguis'd they will be here. 
 Their herald is a pretty knavish page, 
 That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage : 
 Action and accent did they teach him there; 
 '•Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body 
 
 bear:" loo 
 
 And ever and anon they made a doubt 
 Presence majostical would put him out; 
 "ror,"quoth the king, "an angel shalt thou see; 
 Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously." 
 The boy replied, "An angel is not evil; 
 I should have fear'd her had she been a devil." 
 With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the 
 
 shoulder. 
 Making the l)old wag by their praises bolder: 
 One rubb'd his elbow — thus, and fleerd^ and 
 
 swore 
 A better speech was never spoke before; no 
 Another, with his finger and his thumb, 
 Cried, '■^Via! we wdll do't, come what will 
 
 come;" 
 The third he caper'd, and cried, "All goes well ; " 
 The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell. 
 
 1 Fleer'd, grinned. 
 38 
 
 £ With that, they all did tumble on the ground, < 
 With such a zealous laughter, so jirofound, ins J 
 That in this spleen ridiculous apjjeais, 1 
 
 To check their folly, passion's solemn tear.s. ] ; 
 J'rin. But Avhat, but what, come they to 
 
 visit us? 
 Boyet. They do, they do; and are aj)pareird 
 thus, iiio 
 
 Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. 
 Their jjui-pose is to parle, to court and dance ; 
 And every one his love-feat will advance 
 Unto his several mistress, which they '11 know 
 By favours several which they did bestow. 
 Prin. And will they m( the gallants shall 
 be task'd; 
 For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd; 
 And not a man of them shall have the gi'ace, 
 Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. 
 Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear. 
 And then the king will court thee for his dear; 
 Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me 
 thine, i:i2 
 
 So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. 
 And change you favours t< to ; so shall your loves 
 Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes. 
 /ton. Come on, then; wear the favoui's most 
 
 in sight. 
 Kath. But in this changing what is your in- 
 tent? 
 Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs: 
 They do it but in mocking meiriment; 
 And mock for mock is only my intent. uo 
 Their several counsels they unbosom shall 
 To loves mistook; and so be moik'd withal 
 Upon the next occasion that we meet, 
 With visages display'd, to talk and greet. 
 lios. But shall we dance, if they desire us 
 
 to't? 
 Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a 
 foot; 
 Nor to their penn'd .speech render we no grace, 
 But while 't is spoke each turn away her face. 
 Boyet. Why, that contem])t will kill the 
 speaker's heart, 
 And (piite divorce his meiiiory from his part. 
 Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no 
 doubt 151 
 
 The rest will ne'er come in, if he l)e out. 
 There 's no such s]-)ort as sjiort by sjjort o'er- 
 thrown,
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 To make theirs oiirs,and ours none but ourowu: 
 
 So .shall we stay, mocking, intended game, 150 
 
 And they, well mock'd, dejjart away with 
 
 shame. [Tn/mjucis sound ivithin. 
 
 Bo)/et. The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the 
 
 maskera come. [The Ladies mask. 
 
 
 ^1 1^ 
 
 
 Boyet. ... I stole into a neighbour thicket by, 
 And overheard what you shall overhear. 
 
 Enter Blackamoors ivith music; Moth; the 
 
 KlXG, BiRON, LOXGAVILLE, and DuiIAIX, ill 
 
 Russian habits, and masked. 
 
 Moth. 
 
 All hail, the nche.st beauties on the earth! — 
 Boyet. Beauties no richer than lich taffeta. 
 Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames IGO 
 \_The Ladies ttcrn their backs to him. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 That ever turn'd tlieir— backs— to mortal views ! iGl 
 Biron. [Aside to Moth] "Their eyes," villain, 
 " their evt.s.' 
 i Moth. 
 
 That ever turn'd theu- eyes to mortal views '— 
 Out— 
 
 Boyet. True; out indeed. 
 Moth. 
 
 Out of your favour.s, heavenly .spii-its, vouchsafe 
 Xot to behold 
 
 Biron. [Aside to Moth] "Once to behold," 
 
 rogue. 
 Moth. 
 Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, 
 
 with your sun-beamed eyes— 
 
 Boyet. They will not answer to tliat epithet ; 
 You were best call it "daughter-beamed eyes." 
 Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings 
 me out. ]7.j 
 
 Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, you 
 i'og"e ! [Kvit Moth. 
 
 Bos. What would these .strangers? know 
 theii' minds, Boyet: 
 If they do speak our language, 't is our will 
 That some plain man recount their purposes: 
 Know what they would. 
 
 Boyet. What would you Avitli the princess? 
 Biron. Nothing but jieace and gentle visita- 
 tion. 
 Bos. What wuuld they, say they ? iso 
 
 Boyet. Nothing but jjeace and gentle visita- 
 tion. 
 Bos. Why, that they have ; and bid them 
 
 so be gone. 
 Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may 
 
 be gone. 
 King. Say to her, we have measur'd many 
 miles 
 To tread a measure with her on this grass. 
 Boyet. They say, that they have measur'.l 
 many a mile 
 To tread a measure with you on this gi-ass. 
 
 Bos. It is not so. Ask them how many inches 
 Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many, 
 The measure, then, of one is easily told. loo 
 Boyet. If to come hither you have measur'd 
 miles, 
 And many miles, the princess bids you tell 
 How many inches doth till up one mile. 
 
 Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary 
 steps. 
 
 39
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 Boyet. She hears herself. 
 Ros. How many weary stejjs, 
 
 Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, 190 
 Are numher'd in the travel of one mile? 
 Birou. We nuniljer nothing that we .spend 
 for you: 
 ( )ur duty is so rich, so infinite, 
 That we may do it still without accompt. 200 
 Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, 
 That we, like savages, may worshiji it. 
 
 Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded 
 
 too. 
 King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such 
 clouds do! 
 Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, 
 
 to shine, 
 Those clouds i-emov'd, upon our watery eyne. 
 Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; 
 Thou now request'st but moonshine in the 
 water. 
 King. Then, in our ineasui'e Ijut vouchsafe 
 one change. 
 Thoubidd'stme beg: this begging is not strange. 
 Ros. Play, music, then I Nay, you must do 
 it soon. [.Uusic plaj/s. 2 a 
 
 Not yet! — no dance I — thus change I like the 
 moon. 
 King. Will you not dance ? How come you 
 
 thus estrang'd '. 
 Ros. You took the moon at full, liiit now 
 
 she 's chang'd. 
 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the 
 man. 
 The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. 
 Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. 
 King. But your legs should do it. 
 
 Ros. Since you are strangers and come here 
 by chance, 
 We'll not be nice: take hands. We Avill not 
 dance. 
 King. Wliy take we hands, then I 
 Ros. Only to jiart friends: 
 
 Curtsy, .sweet hearts; and .so the measure ends. 
 King. More measure of this measure; be not 
 nice. 222 
 
 Ros. We can afford no more at sucl\ a price. 
 King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your 
 
 company ? 
 Ros. Your absence only. 
 King. That can never be. 
 
 40 
 
 Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and .so, 
 
 adieu; 226 
 
 Twice to your visor, and half once to you. 
 King. If you deny to dance, let 's hold more 
 
 chat. 
 Ros. In private, then. 
 King. I am best pleas'd with 
 
 that. [^'/"'.y concerse apart. 
 
 Biron. White-handed mi.stress, one sweet 
 
 word with thee, 230 
 
 "mi- 
 
 Birmi. White-haiKlcil mistress, one sweet wuiil with thee. 
 
 Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is 
 
 three. 
 liiron. Nay then, two treys, an if you grow 
 so nice, 
 Metheglin', wort-, and malmsey : well run, 
 
 dice ! 
 There's half-a-dozen SM'eets. 
 
 I'rin. Seventh sweet, adieu: 
 
 Since you can cog, I '11 Jilay no moi'e \\\W\ you. 
 Biron. One word in secret. 
 J'rin. Let it not be sweet. 
 
 ' Metheglin, a drink made of honey and water ler- 
 iiiented. 
 '- ^^or^ a sweet unfermented beer.
 
 AUT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 Biron. Thou griev'st my gall. 237 
 
 Prin. Gall, bitter. 
 
 Biro)i. Therefore meet. 
 
 YThey converse apart. 
 Dam. Will you vouchsafe with me to change 
 
 a word ^ 
 Mar. Name it. 
 Bum. Fair lady, — 
 
 Mar. Say you so? Fair lord, — 
 
 Take that for your fair lady. 
 
 Bum. Please it you, :.M0 
 
 As much in private, and I '11 bid adieu. 
 
 YFhey converse apart. 
 Kuth. What, was your vizard made without 
 
 a tongue? 
 Bong. I know the reason, lady, why you ask. 
 Kath. O for your reason ! quickly, sir; I 
 
 long. 
 Bong. You have a double tongue within 
 your mask. 
 And would afford my speechless vizard half. 
 [_l\atli. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not 
 "veal" a calf? 
 Long. A calf, fair lady ! 
 Kath. No, a fair lord calf. 
 
 Long. Let s part the word. 
 ( Kath. No, I '11 not be your half : 
 
 'Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. 
 Bong. Look, how you butt yourself in these 
 sharp mocks I 251 
 
 ^Will you give liorns, chaste lady? do not so. 
 ' Kath. Then die a calf, Ijefore your horns do 
 grow. ] 
 Bong. One word in private with you, ere I 
 
 die. 
 Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears 
 you cry. [They converse apart. 
 
 Botjet. The t'>ngues of mocking wenches are 
 
 as keen 
 As is the razor's edge invisible. 
 Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, 
 
 Above the sense of sense; so sensible 
 
 Seemeth their conference; their conceits have 
 
 wings 'jr.n 
 
 Fleeter than aiTows, wind, thought, swifter 
 
 things. 
 
 lios. Not one word more, my maitls; break 
 
 off, break oif. 
 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure 
 scoflF! 
 
 King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have 
 simple wits. 204 
 
 I'rin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. 
 [Exeunt King., Lords, and Blackamoors. 
 Q Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at ? 5 
 Boy at. Tapers they are, with your sweet b 
 breaths puff'd out. \ 
 
 Bos. Well-liking ^ wits they have ; gross, ', 
 gross; fat, fat. ; 
 
 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout I ]; 
 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to- 
 night ? 270 
 Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? 
 This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. 
 
 Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases ! 
 The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. 
 Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all 
 suit. 
 Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his 
 sword : 
 '^0 pioint, quoth I; my servant straight was 
 
 mute. 
 Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o'er hia 
 
 heart; 
 And trow you what he call'd me ? 
 Prin. Qualm, perhai)S. 
 
 Kath. Yes, ir. good faith. 
 Prin. Go, sickness as thou art I 
 
 Pos. Well, better wits ha^'e worn plain sta- 
 tute-caps. 2S1 
 But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. 
 Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith 
 
 to me. 
 Kath. And Longaville was for my service 
 
 born. 
 3/ar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on 
 
 tree. 
 Boyet. Madam, and i)retty mistinesses, give 
 ear: 
 Inunediately they will again be here 
 In their own shapes; for it can never be 
 They will digest this harsh indignity. 
 Prin. Will they return? 
 Boyet. They will, they will, God knows, 290 
 And leap for joy, though they are lame with 
 
 blows: 
 Therefore change favours; and, when they 
 repair, 
 
 ' Well-liking, plump. 
 41
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. £<.vua Z. 
 
 Blow like sweet roses in this siuumer air. 293 
 ) Q /'/•('/(. Huw l)l()w? how Mow? sj)euk to be 
 understood. 
 Boifet. Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their 
 bud; 
 
 JDismask'd, their damask's^ sweet commixtuie 
 ^ shown, 
 
 c Are angels vailing- clouds, or roses blown. ] 
 Prill. Avaunt, perplexity 1 ^VTiat shall we 
 do, 
 If they return in their own shajies to woo? 
 Ros. Good madam, if by me you "11 be ad- 
 vis'tl, :joo 
 
 Let's mock them still, as well known a.s dis- 
 
 guis'd : 
 Let us complain to them what fools were here, 
 Di.sguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; 
 A nd wonder what they were, and to what end 
 Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd, 
 And their rough carriage so ridiculous, 
 Should be })resented at our tent to us. 
 
 Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at 
 
 hand. 
 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over 
 
 land. 
 \^Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and 
 
 Maria. 
 
 Re-enter the King, Birox, Loxgaville, and 
 Dl'MAIX, in their proper habits. 
 
 King. Fair sir, God save you I Wliere 's the 
 
 princess? 31 o 
 
 Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your 
 
 majesty 
 
 Command me any service to her thither ? 
 
 King. That she vouchsafe me audience for 
 
 one word. 
 Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my 
 lord. [K.vit. 
 
 Biron. This ffllow pecks up wit as 2>igeons 
 pease, 
 And utters it again when God doth please: 
 He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares 
 At wakes and wassails,^ meetings, markets, 
 
 fairs; 
 /|[And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth 
 > know, 319 
 
 1 Damask's, check's. - Vailing, iiiuking to sink. 
 » Wassails, health-drinkings. 
 42 
 
 Have not the grace to grace it with such show. > 
 This gallant iiins the wenches on his .sleeve; ' 
 Had he been Adam, he had temjited Eve;] ' 
 A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he 323 
 That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; 
 This is the ape of foi'm, monsieur the nice, 
 That, when he plays at fcibles, chides the dice 
 In honourable terms: nay, he can sing 
 A mean* most meanly; and in usheiing, 
 Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; 
 The stairs, ius he treads on them, kiss his feet: 
 ^This is the tlower that smiles on every one, ^ 
 To .show his teeth as white as whales bone;] ' 
 And consciences, that will not die in debt. 
 Pay him the due of " honey-ton gii'd Boyet." 
 King. A bli.ster on his sweet tongue, with 
 
 my heart, 335 
 
 That jjut Armado's page out of his ])artl 
 Biron. See where it comes I Behaviour, 
 
 what wert thou 
 Till this mad man .sho^\ d thee ? what art thou 
 
 now I 
 
 Re-enter the Princess, ushered J)y Boyet; Rosa- 
 line, Mahia, and Katharine. 
 
 King. All hail, .sweet madam, and fair time 
 
 of day ! 
 Prin. "Fair" in "all h.-iil' is fii\d, as I con- 
 ceive. ::i(i 
 King. Construe my speeches bettei", if you m.-iy. 
 Prin. Then \\ish me l)etter; I will give you 
 leave. 
 King. "We came to visit you, and purpose now 
 To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. 
 Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold 
 your vow: 
 Nor God, nor I, delights in pcrjin-d men. 
 King. Rebuke me not for that which you pro- 
 voke: 
 The virtue of your eye must break my oath. 
 Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you shoul I 
 have spoke; 
 For \ii-tue's office never breaks men's troth. 
 Now by my maiden honour, yet as jjure 351 
 
 As the unsullied lily, I ])rotest, 
 A world of toi'iuents though I should endure, 
 I would not yield to be your house's guest; 
 So much I hate a bieaking cause to be 
 
 * Mean, tenor part.
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR =S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 
 
 Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integi-ity. s'.o 
 King. O, you have liVd m desolation here, 
 
 Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. 
 Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; 
 
 We have hail i)astimes here and pleasant 
 game : 3C0 
 
 A mess^ of Russians left us but of late. 
 
 King. How, madam I Russians ! 
 
 Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; 
 
 Trim gallants, full of courtshij) and of state. 
 
 Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord : 
 ^ly lady, to^ the manner of the days, •» 
 In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. 
 We fouf, indeed, confronted were with four 
 
 Biron. 0, 1 am yonrs, aud all that I possess : 
 Ros. All the fool mine ? 
 
 In Russian habit: here they stayed an hour, 
 And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord. 
 They did not bless us with one happy woid. 
 I dare not call them fools; but this I think, 
 When they are thirsty, fools would fain have 
 drink. 372 
 
 1 A mess, a party of four. * To = according to. 
 
 Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle 
 
 sweet, y73 
 
 Yoiu- wit makes wise things fooUsh: when we 
 
 greet, 
 With eyes best seeing, heaven's herv eye, 
 By light we lose hght: your capacity 
 Is of that nature, that to your huge store 
 Wise things seem foolish, aud rich things but 
 poor. 
 Ros. This proves you wise and rich; for in 
 
 my eye,— 
 
 Biron. I am a fool, and full of jioverty. 3so 
 Ros. But that you take what doth to you 
 belong. 
 It were a fault to snatch words from my 
 tongue. 
 Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess! 
 Ros. All the fool milled 
 Biron. I cannot give you less. 
 
 Ros. Which of the vizards was it that }'ou 
 
 woie I 
 Biron. Where ? when ? what A'izard '. why 
 
 demand you this? 
 Ros. There, then, that vizard; that super- 
 fluous case 
 Tiiat hid the worse, and show'd the 1 tetter face. 
 King. We are descried; they'll mock us 
 
 now downright. 
 Durn. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 
 Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your 
 highness sad ? .nn 
 
 Ros. Help, hold his brows I he '11 swoon I 
 Why look you pale ? 
 Sea-sick, I think, coming from Musco^y. 
 Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for 
 
 perjury. 
 Can any face of brass hold longer out? 
 Here stand I, lady; dart thy skill at me; 
 Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a 
 flout; 
 Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignor- 
 ance ; 
 Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; 
 And I will wish thee never moi'e to dance, 
 
 Nor never more in Russian habit wait. 40l 
 O, never will I tm.st to speeches penn'd. 
 
 Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, 
 Nor never come in vizard to my friend. 
 
 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's 
 song! 
 
 43
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 Taflfeta phrases, silken terms precise, 401; 
 
 Three-pil'd hyperl)()les, spruce affectation, 
 Figures pedantical; tliese summer-flies 
 
 Have blown me full of maggot ostentation; 
 I do forswear them; and I here protest, 4in 
 By this white glove, — how white the haml. 
 God knows I — 
 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be ex- 
 press'd 
 In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes: 
 And, to begin, wench,— so God help me, law I — 
 My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 
 lios. Sans sans, I pray you. 
 Biron. Yet I have a trick 
 
 Of the old lage: bear with me, I am sick; 
 I '11 leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: 
 Write, "Lord have mercy on us" on these 
 
 three; 
 They are infected ; in their hearts it lies; 420 
 They have the plague, and caught it of your 
 
 eyes; 
 These lords are visited; you are not free, 
 For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. 
 
 Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens 
 
 to us. 
 Biron. Our states are forfeit : seek not to 
 
 undo us. 
 Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true, 
 That you stand forfeit, being those that sue ? 
 Biron. Peace I for I will not have to do with 
 
 you. 
 Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. 
 Biron. Sjjeak for yourselves ; my wit is at 
 an end. 4.',o 
 
 King. Teach us, sweet niiulam, for our rude 
 transgression 
 Some fair excuse. 
 
 Prin. The fairest is confession. 
 
 Were not you here but even now, di.sguis'd ? 
 King. Madam, I was. 
 
 Prin. And were you well advis'd i 
 
 King. I was, fair madam. 
 Prin. When you then Avere here, 
 
 What did you whisper in your lady's earl 
 King. That more than all the world I did 
 
 respect her. 
 Prin. When she shall challenge this, you 
 
 will reject her. 
 King. Upon mine honour, no. 
 Prin. Peace, peace! forbear: 
 
 44 
 
 \i>\\v oath once broke, you force not^ to for- 
 swear. 440 
 King. Despise me, when I break this oath 
 
 of mine. 
 Prin. I will : and therefore keep it. Eosaline, 
 W'luit did the Russian whisper in your ear? 
 Jios. Madam, he swoie that he did hold me 
 dear 
 As precious eyesight, and did value me 
 Above this world; adding thereto moreover 
 That he would wed me, or else die my lover. 
 Prin. God give thee juv of him I the noble 
 lord 
 Most honourably doth uphold his word. 
 
 King. What mean you, madam? by my life, 
 my troth, 450 
 
 I never swore this lady such an oath. 
 
 Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it 
 plain, 
 You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. 
 King. My faith and this the princess I did 
 give: 
 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. 
 
 Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she 
 wear; 
 And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. 
 What, will you have me, or your pearl again ? 
 Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. 
 I see the trick on 't: here was a consent, 400 
 Knowing aforehand of our merriment. 
 To dash it like a Christmas comedy: 
 [|Sonie carry-tale, some jjlease-man, some slight < 
 zany, l 
 
 Some mumble-news, some trencher- knight, ^ 
 some Dick, i 
 
 That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the 
 
 trick 
 To make my lady laugh when she 's dispos'd, ( 
 Told our intents before ; which once disclos'd,] i 
 The ladies did change favours; and then we. 
 Following the signs, wou'd but the sign of she. 
 Now, to our perjury to add more teiToi-, 470 
 We are again forsworn, in will and error. 
 Much upon this it is: and might not you 
 
 [^To Boi/et. 
 Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue ? 
 Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squier-. 
 And laugh upon the apple of her eye ? 
 
 ' Force not, care uot. 
 
 ■- By th' squier, by the rule.
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE S LABOUR 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, 
 Holding a trencher, jesting merrily i 477 
 
 You put our page out: go, you are allow'd;^ 
 
 Die when you will, a smock shall be your 
 shroud. 
 
 You leer upon me, do you ? there 's an eye no 
 
 Wounds like a leaden sword. 
 
 Bojift. Full merrily 
 
 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. 
 Biro It. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I 
 have done. 
 
 Enter Costard. 
 
 Welcome, pure wit ! .thou partest a fair fray. 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir — they would know 
 Whether the three Worthies shall come in or 
 no. 
 
 Biron. What, are there but three ? 
 
 Cost. No, sir; but it is vara fine. 
 
 For eveiy one pursents three. 
 
 Biron. And three times thrice is nine. 
 
 Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I 
 hope it is not so. 
 You cannot beg us^, sir, I can assure you, sir; 
 we know what we know: 490 
 
 I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, — 
 
 Biron. Is not nine. 
 
 Cost. Under correction, sir, we know where- 
 until it doth amount. 
 
 Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes 
 for nine. 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir ! — it were pity you should 
 get your living by reckoning, sir. 
 
 Biron. How much is it? 490 
 
 Cost. O Lord, sir — the parties themselves, the 
 actors, sir, will showwhereuutU it doth amount: 
 for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to 
 parfect one man, one poor man — Pompicn the 
 Great, sir. 
 
 Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies ? 
 
 Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy 
 of Pomjjion the Great : for mine own pai't, I 
 know not the degiee of the Worthy, but I am 
 to stand for him. 
 
 Biron. Go, bid them prepare. oio 
 
 Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will 
 take some care. [Exit. 
 
 1 Tou are allow' d, you are a licensed fool or jester. 
 - Beg us, beg us as idiots. 
 
 Kin(/. Biron, they will shame us : let them 
 not approach. 512 
 
 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord : and 
 't is some policy 
 To have one show woree than the king's and 
 his company. 
 King. I say they shall not come. 
 Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'eniile 
 you now: 
 That sport best pleases that doth least know 
 
 how: 
 Where zeal strives to content, and the con- 
 tents 
 Dies in the zeal of that which it jjresents: 
 Their form confounded makes most form in 
 mirth, 520 
 
 When great things labouring perish in their 
 birth. 
 Biron. A right description of our sport, my 
 lord. 
 
 Enter Armado. 
 
 Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense 
 
 of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace 
 
 of words. [Converses apart with the King, 
 
 and delivers him a paper. 
 
 Prin. Doth this man serve Godl 
 
 Biron. Why ask you ? 
 
 Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's 
 making. 5-9 
 
 Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey 
 monarch ; for, I j^rotest, the schoolmaster is 
 exceeding fantastical ; too too vain, too too vain : 
 but we wall put it, as they say, to fort una del 
 la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most 
 royal couplement ! [Exit. 
 
 King. Here is like to be a good presence of 
 Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy ; the 
 swain, Pompey the Great ; the parish curate, 
 Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the 
 pedant, Judas Maccabseus: 54n 
 
 And if these four Worthies in their first show 
 
 thrive. 
 These four will change habits, and present the 
 other five. 
 
 Biron. There is five in the first show. 
 
 King. You are deceived ; 't is not so. 
 
 Biron. The pedant, the liraggart, the hedge- 
 priest, the fool and the boy: — 
 45
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 Abate a throw at novum,iand tlie whole world 
 
 again 
 Cannot prick out five such, tike each one in 
 
 his vein. 
 King. The ship is under sail, and here she 
 
 comes amain. wo 
 
 Enter Costard, armed and accoutred., as 
 Pompe)f. 
 
 Cost. I Pompey am, 
 
 Boyi't. You lie, you are not he. 
 
 Cost. I Pompey am,— {Bowing. 
 
 Boi/et. With libbard's- head on knee. 
 
 Biron. "Well said, old mocker: I must needs 
 
 be friends with thee. 
 Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey suruam'd the Big, — 
 Du)n. The Great. 
 Cost. It is, "Great," sir: — 
 
 Pompey surnam'd the Great ; 
 That oft ill field, with targe* and shield, did make 
 
 my foe to sweat : 
 And travelling along this coast, I here am come by 
 
 chance, 
 And lay my anns hofore the legs of this sweet lass 
 of France. 
 
 [Z/oc'.s to the Princess, and lai/s Jtis 
 anns at Iter feet. 
 If your ladyship would say, "Thanks, Pom- 
 pey," I had done. 
 Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. 560 
 
 Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope 
 I was perfect : I made a little fault in 
 " Great." 
 
 Biron. My liat to a halfpenny, Pompey 
 proves the best AVoithy. 
 
 Enter Sir Nathaniel, armed, as Alexander. 
 Kath. 
 
 When in the world I livVl, I was the world's com- 
 mander ; 
 
 IJy east, west, noi-tli, and south, I spread my con- 
 quering might : [Pointing to hix s/tield. 
 
 -My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,— 
 
 Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for 
 
 it stands too right. 
 Biron. Your nose smells "no" in this, most 
 
 tender-smelling knight. 
 
 ' Nomvm, a game played with dice. 
 * Libbard, leopard. 
 
 2 Targe, a shield. The tautology is intentional. 
 4G 
 
 J^rin. The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, 
 good Alexander. oru 
 
 Natlt. When in the world I liv'd, I was the 
 world's commander, — 
 
 Boyet. Most true, 'tis light; you were .so, 
 Alisander. 
 
 Biron. Pompey the Great, — 
 
 Cost. Your ser\'ant, and Costard. 
 
 Biron. Take away the conqueror, take aw'ay 
 Alisander. 
 
 Cost. [7o Sir Xath.'\ O, sir, you have over- 
 thrown Alisander the conqueror ! You will be 
 sci-ap'd out of the painted cloth for this: Qyour/ 
 lion, that holds his jxill-axe sitting on a clo.se- < 
 stool, will be given to Ajax: lie will be thee 
 ninth Worthy.] A concpieror, and afeard to^ 
 speak ! run away for shame, Alisander. {^Xath. 
 retires.'] There, an 't shall jtlease you; a foolish 
 mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon 
 dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour, 
 faith, and a very good bowler : but, for Ali- 
 sander,— alas, you see how 't is, — a little o'er- 
 parted^. But there are Worthies a-coming 
 will speak their mind in some other soii;. ."iQO 
 
 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. [Costard 
 retires to bad- of stage. 
 
 Enter Holofernes, as Judas; and Moth, <is 
 Jlercidcs. 
 
 IIol. 
 
 Great Herc'les is j)resented by this imp, fi92 
 
 Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed 
 
 can II a; 
 And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp. 
 
 Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. 
 Qiioniam he seemeth in minority, 
 Ergo I come with this apology. 
 
 Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. 
 
 [Moth retires. 
 Judas I am, — 
 
 Dinn. A Judas I 600 
 
 IIol. Not Iscariot, sir. 
 
 Judas I am, ycliped Maccabseus. 
 Bum. Judas Maccabpeus dipt is plain Judas. 
 Biron. A kissing traitor. How art thou 
 
 ])rov'd .Judas? 
 IIol. Judas I am, — 
 
 Dmn. The more shame for you, Judas. 
 Hoi. What mean you, sir? 
 
 * O'erparted, overweighted in his part.
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUE'S LOST. 
 
 ACT v. Scene 
 
 Boyet. To make Judas hang himself. 
 
 Hoi. Begin, sir; you are my elder. 
 
 Biron. Well foUow'd : Judas was haug'd on 
 
 an elder. 6io 
 
 HoL I will not be put out of countenance. 
 Biron. Because thou hast no face. 
 HoL What is this? 
 Boyet. A cittern-head. 
 Hum. The head of a bodkin. 
 Biron. A Death's face in a ring. 
 \_Lonci. The face of an old Roman coin, 
 
 scarce seen. 
 Boyet. The pommel of Ciesar's falchion. 
 Hum. The carvd-bone face on a flask. 
 Biron. Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. 
 Dii,m. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. h21 
 
 Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth- 
 drawer. ] 
 And now forward ; for we have put thee in 
 
 countenance. 
 Hoi. You have put me out of countenance. 
 Biion. False; we have given thee faces. 
 Hoi. But you have out-fac'd them all. 
 Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do .so. 
 Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. 
 .|[And so adieu, sweet Jude ! nay, why dost 
 \ thou .stay? 
 
 ' D^lm. For the latter end of his name. 630 
 i Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him: 
 
 — Jud-as, away! ]] 
 Hoi. This is not generous, not gentle, not 
 
 humble. 
 Boyet. A light for ^Monsieur Judas I it gi'ows 
 
 dark, he may stumble. [^Hol. retire.?. 
 
 Prin. Alas, poor Maccabseus, how hath he 
 
 been baited! 
 
 Enter Armado, armed, as Hector. 
 
 Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes 
 Hector in arms. 
 
 Bum. Thougli my mocks come home by me, 
 I wiU now be meriy. 
 
 King. Hector was lint a Troyan in respect 
 of this. 040 
 
 Boyet. But is this Hector? 
 
 King. I think Hector was not so clean-tim- 
 ber'd. 
 
 Long. His leg is too big for Hector's. 
 
 Biim. More calf, certain. 
 
 Boyet. No; he is Ijest indued in the small. 
 
 Biron. This cannot be Hector. 647 
 
 Bum. He 's a god or a painter; for he makes 
 faces. 
 
 ^1 rm. 
 The armipotent Mar.s, of lances^ the almighty, 650 
 Gave Hector a gift, — 
 
 Bum. A gilt nutmeg. 
 
 Biron. A lemon. 
 
 Long. Stuck with cloves. 
 
 Jhim. No, cloven. 
 
 Arm. Peace I — 
 The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, 
 
 Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; 
 .\ man so breath 'd^, that certain he would fight ye 
 
 From morn till night, out of his pavilion. 660 
 I am that flower, — 
 
 That mint. 
 
 That columbine. 
 Lord Longaville, rein thy 
 
 Bum. 
 
 Long. 
 
 Arm. Sweet 
 tongue. 
 
 Long. I mu.st rather give it the rein, foi' 
 it I'uns against Hector. 
 
 Hum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. 
 
 Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; 
 sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried : 
 when he breathed, he was a man. But I will 
 foi-ward with my deface. [To the Princess] 
 Sweet royalty, bestow on me tlie sense of 
 hearing. 670 
 
 Prin. Speak, brave Hector : we are much 
 delighted. 
 
 Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's .sliji])er. 
 
 ^Boyet. [Aside to Bum.] Loves her by the- 
 foot. \ 
 
 Bum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by the I 
 yard. \ 
 
 Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, — < 
 
 Cost. [Coming forurtrd] The party is gone, '} 
 fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months; 
 on her way. < 
 
 Ar)n. What meanest thou? 680; 
 
 Cost. Faith, unless you play the hone.st 
 Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she's 
 quick; the child brags in her belly already : ; 
 't is yours. < 
 
 Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among< 
 potentates? thou shalt die. < 
 
 Co.?t. Then shall Hector be whipp'd for Ja- < 
 
 ' Lances, lance-men. 
 
 2 So breath'd, so vigorous. 
 47
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 >quenetta tliiit is quick ])y him, and liaiigM for 
 >Poin])ey that is dead l)y liiin. 
 
 U II III. Most rare Pornj)ey! 
 
 Jioi/et. Renowned Pomi)ey I 690 
 
 Biron. (Greater than great, gi'eat, great, great 
 ^Pompey! Pouipey tlie Huge! 
 ) Dum. Hector trembles. 
 ? Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, nioie 
 ^ Ates ! stir them on I stir them on I 
 \ Dum. Hector will challenge him. 
 < Biron. Ay, if a' have no more man's l)l(xid 
 Jill's belly than will sup a Ilea. 
 
 Arm. By the north pole, 1 do challenge thee. 
 
 Cost. I will not fight with a jjole, like a 
 Jnorthern man: I'll slash; I'll do it by the 
 ^ sword. 1 pray you, let me borrow my arms 
 ^ again. 702 
 
 ) Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies ! 
 ^ Cost. I '11 do it in my shirt. \_Begins to un- 
 idress himself.] 
 
 S Diiin. Most resolute Pompey ! 
 ^ J/ot/t. Master, let me take you a button-hole 
 >lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing 
 ^ for the combat? What mean you ? You will 
 (-lose your reputation. 
 
 > Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; 
 /I will not combat in my shirt. 711 
 
 ^ J)iiin. Y<ni may not deny it: Pompey hath 
 ^made the cliallenge. 
 
 ^ Arm. Sweet })loods, I both may and will. 
 ^ Biron. What reason have you for 't ? 
 ', Arm. Tlie naked truth of it i.s, I have no 
 ^ shirt; I go woolward' for penance. 
 ( Boi/et. True, and it was enjoined him in 
 (Rome for want of linen: since when, I'll be 
 ^ sworn he wore none, but a dishclout of Jaque- 
 ^netta's, and that he wears next his heart for a 
 ^ favour. ] 722 
 
 Enter Mkrcade. 
 
 Mer. God save you, madam ! 
 
 J'rin. Welcome, Mercade, but that thou 
 interrupte.st our merriment. 
 
 J/er. I am sorry, madam; for the news I 
 bring is heavy in my tongue. The king your 
 father— 
 
 I'rin. Dead, f(jr my life ! 
 
 Afer, Even so; my tale is told. 
 
 1 Woolward, with wool next the skin. 
 48 
 
 Biron. Wortliies, away! the scene begins to 
 cloud. 7.'U 
 
 Ar)n. For mine own ]jart, I breatlie free 
 breath. I have seen the day of wi'ong tluough 
 the little hole of discretion, and I will right 
 myself like a .soldier. [Kveiint Worthies. 
 
 Kiny. How faies your majesty I 
 
 J'rin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. 
 
 Kintj. Madam, not .so; I do beseech you, 
 stay. 
 
 I'rin. Prepare, I say. T thank you, gracious 
 lords. 
 For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, 740 
 Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe, 
 In your rich wisdom, to excu.se, or hide. 
 The liberal opjiosition of our spirits; 
 If over-boldly we have borne ourselves 
 In the conver.se of breath, your gentleness 
 Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord ! 
 A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue : 
 Excu.se me so, coming too short of thanks 
 For my great suit so easily obtain'd. 
 
 King. The extreme part of time extreniely 
 forms 7'iO 
 
 All causes to the purpose of his .speed; 
 And often, at his very loose, decides 
 That which long 2:)rocess could not arbitrate : 
 And though the mourning brow of progeny 
 Forbid the smiling courtesy of love 
 The holy suit which fain it would convince-, 
 Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, 
 Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it 
 From what it purpo.s'd; since, to wail friends 
 
 lest 
 Is not by much so wholesome-profitable ~c,o 
 As to rejoice at friends but newly found. 
 
 Priu. I understand you not: my griefs hear 
 dully. 
 
 Biron. Honest phiin words best ])ierce the 
 ear of grief; 
 And by these badges understand the king. 
 For your fair .sakes have we neglected time, 
 Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, 
 
 ladies. 
 Hath much deform'd u.s, fashioning our 
 
 humours 
 Even to the o])i)Osed end of our intents: 
 And what in us hath .seem'd ridiculous, — 
 
 2 Convince, overcome.
 
 ACT V. Scene -J. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUK'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 As love is full of unbefitting strains, rro 
 
 All wanton as a child, skii)ping and vain, 
 Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the e}'e. 
 Full of stray shapes, of habits and of forms. 
 Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll 
 To every varied oliject in his glance : 
 Which pai'ti-coated jjresence of loose love 
 Put on l;)y us, if, in your heavenly eyes, 
 Have misbeconi'd our oaths and gravities, 
 Those heavenly eyes, that look into these 
 
 faults. 
 Suggested' us to make. Therefore, ladies, 780 
 Our love being yours, the error that love makes 
 Is likewise yours : we to ourselves prove false, 
 By being once false for ever to be true 
 To those that make us both, — fair ladies, you : 
 And e'en that falsehood, in itself a sin. 
 Thus purities itself and turns to grace. 
 
 I'riiK We have receiv'd your letters full of 
 
 love ; 
 Your favours, tlie ambassadors of love; 
 And, in our maiden council, rated them 
 At courtship, ^^leasant jest, and courtesy, 790 
 As bombast'-^, and as lining to the time : 
 But more devout than this in our respects 
 Have we not been; and therefore met your 
 
 loves 
 In their own fashion, like a meriiment. 
 Bum. Our letters, madam, show'd nuicli 
 
 more than jest. 705 
 
 Lnn//. So did our looks. 
 /i'os. We did not quote' them so. 
 
 Ki)ig. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, 
 C>rant us your loves. 
 
 Prin. A time, methinks, too short 
 
 To make a woild-without-end bargain in. 
 No, no, my lord, your grace is j^ei-juril much, 
 Fidl of denr guiltiness; and therefore this: 
 If for my love, as there is no such cause, so2 
 You will do aught, this shall you do for me : 
 Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed 
 To some forlorn and naked hermitage, 
 Remote from all the pleasures of the woild ; 
 There stay until the twelve celestial signs 
 Have brought about theii- annual reckfuiing. 
 If this austere insociable life 
 (.'hange not your offer made in heat of blood; 
 
 1 Stiggested, tempted. 
 
 2 Quote, regard. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Botiibaiit, iJrtddilig 
 
 If frosts and fasts, hard lodging, and thin 
 
 weeds 
 Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, si2 
 But that it bear this trial and last* love; 
 Then, at the expiration of the year. 
 Come chixllenge, challenge me by these deserts, 
 
 [(jliving him her haixf.^ 
 And, by this virgin jialm now kissing thine, 
 I will be thine; and till that instant shut 
 My woefid self up in a mourning house. 
 Raining the teais of lamentation 
 For the rememlirance of my father's death. 
 If this thou do deny, let our hands part, 821 
 Neither intitled in the other's heart. 
 King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, 
 To Hatter up these powers of mine with i-est, 
 The sudden hand of death close up mine eye ! 
 Hence ever then my heart is in tliy 
 breast^. 
 Bum. But what to me, my love? but wliat 
 to me >: 
 A wife? 
 
 Katli. A beard, fair health, and honesty; 
 
 With three-fold love I wish you all these three. 
 
 Bum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle 
 
 wife ? 
 Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and 
 a day 
 I '11 mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers 
 
 say: 
 
 Come when the king doth to my lady come; 
 
 Then, if I have much love, I '11 give you some. 
 
 Bum. I '11 serve thee true and faithfully till 
 
 then. S41 
 
 Kath. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn 
 
 agen. 
 Long. What says Maria ? 
 Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, 
 
 I '11 change my black gown for a faithful friend. 
 Long. I '11 stay with patience; but the time 
 
 is long. 
 Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. 
 Blron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on 
 me; 
 Behold the window of my heart, mine eye. 
 What humble suit attends thy answer there : 
 Impose some service on me for my love. S50 
 
 * LaHt, remain. 
 
 5 Lines 827-832, Glol)e Edit., omitted here. 
 49 4
 
 ACT Y. Scene 2. 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Bceue 2. 
 
 J{(f<. Oft lia\-e 1 lu-anl of you, my Lord 
 
 Biron, 8>i 
 
 Before I saw ym ; and the world's large 
 
 tfjiigue 
 Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, 
 Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, 
 Which yon on all estates will execute 
 That lie within the mercy of your wit. 
 To weed this wormwootl from your fruitful 
 
 brain, 
 And therewithal to win me, if you please, 
 Without the which I am not to be won, 
 You shall this twehemonth term from day to 
 
 day 860 
 
 Visit the speechless sitk, and still converse 
 With groaning wretches; and your task shall 
 
 be, 
 With all the fierce endeavour of your wit 
 To enforce the ])ained impotent to smile. 
 Biro)t. To move wild laughter in the throat 
 
 of death ? 
 It cannot be; it is impo.ssible : 
 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 
 
 Eos. Wliy, that 's the way to choke a gibing 
 
 spirit, 
 Whose influence is begot of that loose grace 
 Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: 
 A jest's jirospeiity lies in the ear 871 
 
 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
 Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, 
 Deaf' d with the clamours oi their own dear^ 
 
 groans. 
 Will hear your idle scorns, continue them. 
 And I will have you and that fault withal; 
 But if they will not, throw away that spirit. 
 And I .shall find you empty of that fault. 
 Eight jo^'ful of your reformation. 
 
 Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what 
 
 will befall, sso 
 
 I '11 jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. 
 
 Pri)i. [To the Kin;/] Ay, sweet my lord; and 
 
 so I take my leave. 
 King. No, madam; wi' will bring you on 
 
 your waj'. 
 Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old 
 
 play; 
 Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' court e.sy 
 Might well have made our sport a comedy. 
 
 1 Z)car=painfiil, tliat cost much paiu. 
 50 
 
 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth 
 and a day, 887 
 
 And then 't will end. 
 
 Biron. That 's too long for a play. 
 
 lie-enter Armado. 
 
 Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,^ 
 
 Prin. Was not that Hector? 
 
 Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. S90 
 
 Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take 
 leave. I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaque- 
 netta to hold the plough for her sweet love 
 three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will 
 you hear the dialogue that the two learned 
 men have comj)iled in praise of the owl and 
 the cuckoo? it should have followed in the 
 end of our show. 
 
 King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so; 
 
 Arm. Holla I a])i)roach. 900 
 
 Be-enter Holoferxes, Nathaniel, Moth, 
 Custard, and others. 
 
 This side is Hiems, Winter,— this Yer, the 
 Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the 
 other liy the cuckoo. Ver, begin. 
 
 The Soxg. 
 
 Spring. 
 When daisies j>ied and violets blue, 
 
 And ladj--smocks all silver white, 
 And cuckoo-l)uds of yellow hue, 
 
 Do paint the meadows with delight, 
 The cuckoo then, on everj' tree, 
 Mocks married men; for thus sings he, 
 
 Cuckoo; 910 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo; word of fear, 
 Unpleasing to a married ear ! 
 
 When shepherds pipe on oaten straws 
 And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, 
 
 ^^^^en turtles tread, and rooks, and daws. 
 And maidens bleach their .summer smocks, 
 
 The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
 
 -Mocks married men; for thus sings be. 
 Cuckoo; 
 
 Cuckoo, cuckoo : word of fear, 920 
 
 Unpleasing to a married ear I 
 
 Winter. 
 When icicles hang by the wall 
 
 And Dick the -shepherd blows his nail 
 And Tom bears logs into the hall 
 
 And milk comes frozen home in pail,
 
 ACT \'. Scene 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 "When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul. 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl, 
 Tu-whit, to-who. 
 
 A merry note, 
 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 When all aloud the wind doth blow 
 And coughing drowns the parson's saw 
 
 And birds sit brooding in the snow 
 And -Marian's nose looks red and raw. 
 
 When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, 935 
 
 Then nightly sings the staring owl. 
 Tu-whit to-who. 
 
 A merry note. 
 
 While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 
 
 A7-m. The words of Mercury are liarsli after 
 the songs of Apollo. You that way: we this 
 way. [Lxeunt. 942 
 
 61
 
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE LOVE'S LABOURS LOST. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 1. Line 23: Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it 
 too. — Similar instances of the use of it may be found. 
 Dyce very aptly quotes I. Henry VI. i. 1. 162-165. 
 
 RxeUr. Remember, Lords, ytjur oaths to Henry sworn, 
 Hither to quell the Dauphin utterly. 
 Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 
 Bedford. I do remember V, and here take my leave, 
 
 where it is evident thein never could be intended. " It" 
 may be referred to "subscription" understood. See also 
 III. Henry VI. iii. 2. 31, 32. 
 
 K. Edw. T were pity they should lose their father's lands. 
 
 L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it them. 
 
 52 
 
 2. Line 62: When I to f ant cxprcstily uia I'oiiBiD.— So 
 both the Quartos, and all the Folios, read. 
 
 Tlie meaning of the line in our text is perfectly intelli- 
 gible -/or&iJ, in this instance, being equal to bidden under 
 certain penalties (to fast); and there is no more violence 
 done to grammar or common sense than in the following 
 passage: 
 
 You may as weWybrdid the mountain pines 
 To wag their high tops, and to make no noise 
 When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven. 
 
 — MerLh.int of Venice, iv. i. ;5-r7. 
 
 Instances may be found in old English writers where 
 forbid is used in a similar sense, the /or simply augment- 
 ing the force of bid.
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 3. Line 82: Who dazzlinu so, that eye shall be his heed. 
 —Johnson rightly terms this passage " unnecessarily ob- 
 scure." He explains it thus: "When he dazzles, that is, 
 has his eye made weak by fi.xing his eye upon a fairer eye, 
 that fairer eye shall be his heed, his direction or lodestar. 
 and give him light that was blinded by it." Dazzle is 
 used as an intransitive verb in III. Henry VI. ii. I. 25: 
 
 PixzzU mine eyes, or do I see three suns? 
 
 Heed, in this passage, seems to mean "object of special 
 regard." For another instance of the use of heed as a 
 substantive, in a peculiar sense, compare Henry VIII. 
 
 iii. 2. 80: 
 
 A h<€u 
 M'as in his countenance. 
 
 4. Line s7: Save bask authority frotn others' books. — 
 Base here may be used, not so much in the sense of low 
 as of base-born; compare King Lear, i. 2. 9, 10: 
 
 M'hy brand they us 
 With/'rtifl with f^itsemss f bastardy? base, hasr f 
 
 In which case, the meaning of the whole passage would 
 be "continual plodders discover nothing new, but only 
 learn to take other persons' opinions as their own." 
 
 5. Line 95: Proceeded ^vell, to stop all good proceeding! 
 — It is an open question if the verb proceed here be used 
 in its academical sense, to proceed from one degree to 
 another, or no. Steevens gives a passage quoted by Dr. 
 Farmer, but says he cannot find the book from which it 
 is taken — "such as practise to proceed in all evil wise, 
 till from Batchelors in Xewgate, by degrees they proceed 
 to be Maisters, and by desert be preferred at Tyborne." 
 If this is from some work contemporary with Shakespeare, 
 it certainly proves that the academical sense of the word 
 was well known. 
 
 6. Line 100: Than wish a s-now in Marj's new-fangled 
 SHOWS. — So all the old copies read. Various emendations 
 have been suggested, on the supposition that the line is 
 corrupt, and that it ought to end with a word rhyming 
 to birth in line 104, which is now left without any line to 
 rhyme to it: but instances of single and "forlorn" line.?, 
 occurring in the middle of rhymed passages, are not un- 
 common. In the only passage in which Shakespeare uses 
 fangled alone, he uses it evidently in the sense of gavdy : 
 
 Be not. as is our /aug^Uci world, a ijarinent 
 
 Nobler tliau that it covers. — Cymbehne, v. 4. 134. 
 
 "May's new.fangled .shows" would therefore mean May's 
 first gaudy shows (of flowers). 
 
 7. Lines 108. 109: 
 
 So you, to study now it is too late, 
 
 Cli}nb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. 
 
 This is the reading of Q 1. All Ff. and Q. 2 read 
 
 Tliat were to chrnb o'er the lionse to unlock the gate. 
 
 To understand the meaning of these two lines we must 
 go back and see what Biron's argument really was. It 
 may thus lie paraphrased: "I only swore," he says, " to 
 study with you for three years, you have appended con- 
 ditions useless and ab.surd. 'What is the end of study?' 
 To know things hid from common sense, to know what I 
 am forbid to know: then I will study to dine well when 
 I am obliged to fast, to meet my mistress when all women 
 arc forbidden to come near us," and so on. To this the 
 
 king replies that these are " vain delights. " ' All delights 
 are vain," answers Biron, "and most vain those which, 
 painfully purchased, do but bring pain: poring over 
 books and continual plodding teach you very little indeed; 
 —real study is the result of observation, by men free 
 to mix with their fellows:— go you then, grown men as 
 you are, to study like boys— when it is too late to begin 
 life over again; you miglit as well climb over a house to 
 unlock a little gate ; for you are going a very laborious 
 way to gain knowledge, to which a short cut lies open be- 
 fore you. You are going to shut yourselves from the world, 
 under absurd restrictions, and study books, when you 
 might learn much more by remaining in the world, and 
 studying human nature." This would seem to be the 
 meaning of the passage, though it is very obscurely ex- 
 pressed in the sententious form which Shakespeare here 
 attects. 
 
 8. Line 110: Well, sit you out.— So Qq. and F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, 
 but F. 1 reads "fit you out," a reading which some de- 
 fend, but "sit you out," an expression taken from games 
 of cards (still used of those who wait to cut in at a rub- 
 ber of whist), is more appropriate. Dyce gives a very 
 apposite quotation from The Tryall of Chevalry, 1605,. 
 
 sig. G. 3: 
 
 King of Navar, will onely you sit out} 
 
 'The suggestion that sit is a misprint loxset is plausible, 
 but I think untenable. It would certainly make the line 
 singularly commonplace. 
 
 9. Line 129: A dangerous law against GENTILITY! — 
 Theobald first assigned this line to Biron, and he is 
 followed by nearly all the modern editors. Qq. Ff. give 
 it to Longaville, and Staunton supports them. Gentilitie 
 is the reading of Ff. and Q. 2. Q. 1 reads gentletie. Gen- 
 tility occurs in only one other passage in Shakespeare. 
 In As Yoa Like It, i. 1. 22, " he lets me feed with his 
 hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and, as much as iu 
 him lies, mines my gentility with my education," where 
 it evidently means gentle breeding, a "gentle-born 
 nature." Here it may mean either "people of gentle 
 rank," or, as Theobald suggests in his first note, "the 
 ((uality of politeness" (equivalent to Yrench gentilesse). 
 Certainly such a brutal penalty could not be enforced by 
 any gentleman. 
 
 10. Lines 143-145 : 
 
 So study evermore is overshot: 
 While it doth study to have what it would. 
 It doth forget to do the thing it shoidd. 
 These lines form a most excellent vindication of the 
 opinions uttered before by Biron. The study he speaks 
 of here is that exaggerated habit of studious industry, 
 which neglects for labours, excessive but comparatively 
 useless, the wholesome work of everyday life. He also- 
 means to point out the absurdity of retiring from the 
 world, as the king proposed; because, while imposing 
 duties on themselves which were not necessary, they 
 neglected those necessary ones which their station im- 
 posed on them. 
 
 11. Line 109: complements.— "Vh'K word as used here 
 should not be confounded with the modern word com2)li- 
 menta; for although it is impossible to resist the evidence- 
 
 53
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUE 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT 1. Scene 
 
 that eomplimenU, used in its ordinary sense, was written 
 complements, yet tlie word woul(i seem to liave had two 
 distinct meanings, « liicli were, iKjwever, not distingnislied 
 by different spelling until later times. Here "a man of 
 CDinpleiiients" does not mean what we call "a man of 
 compliinents," \mt rather " a man of accomplishments." 
 There is a passage in Chapman's comedy An numerous 
 Dayes Mirth, 1599 (Works, vol. i. p. 53): 
 
 Colenet. — Wliy Leraot I tliiiike thou sen<lst about of purpose for 
 yonj; gatlants to be acquainted withal, to make thy selfe merry in tlie 
 maiier of taking acquaintance. 
 
 Lemot. — By lieauen I do, Colenet, for there is no better sport than 
 to obserue the cotn/'^efnettf, for that 's their word, co7nptein€Jit, do you 
 niarke sir. 
 
 From tliis it would appear that the word complement 
 was used in some especially affected sense by the fine 
 gentlemen of that time. Compare in this play: "These 
 are complements, these are humours " (iii. 1. 23). 
 
 12. Line 179 : /renew.— So Richard III. i. 3. 250: 
 
 y OUT Ji re-new stamp of honour is scarce current. 
 and Lear, v. 3. 132 : 
 
 Despite thy victor sword andyire-neiu fortune. 
 Compare bran-new, i.e. hrand-new, both which words 
 mean new from the fire. 
 
 13. Lines 196-19S : 
 
 Long. A liUjh hope for a LOW HEAVEN: God grant us 
 patience ! 
 
 Biron. To hear} or forbear LKVQHmG'! 
 
 This passage is one which has evidently suffered from 
 the printers' errors. lj()th Qq. and Ff. read in tlie second 
 line "forbear hearing," whicli is manifestly wrong, as 
 Longaville's reply shows that lavghintj was tlie word used. 
 Capell is to be credited with this admirable emendation. 
 Biron says, " I hope in God for high words ; " and Longa- 
 ville may mean by his answer "a high hope," i.e. in God, 
 "for a loio or (worthless) heaven." Certainly heaven 
 seems used here very naturally in connection with Biron's 
 "hope in (iod." 
 
 14. Line 201: as the STYLE shall give vs cause to climb.— 
 An obvious play on the words style and stile. 
 
 15 Line 204: talce7i icith the manner. — A corruption of 
 the legal phrase "taken with the mainour." See Black- 
 stone, book iv. chapter 23: "A thief 'taken with the 
 mainour,' that is with the thing stolen upon him in 
 manu, &c." The phrase originally was, "cum manuopere 
 captus;" manoeuvre and mainour are the same words. 
 
 16. Line 249: curious-knot led (;arde)i. —This expression 
 probably refers to the curious knots, or intricately-de- 
 vised beds, in which flowers were planted in the old- 
 fashioned gardens. Shakespeare alludes to these in 
 another passage, when the speaker is comparing England 
 to a neglected garden : 
 
 Iler fruit-trees all unprun'd, her hedges ruin'd. 
 
 Her knots disorder'd. —Rich. 11. iii. 4. 45. 
 
 Steevens quotes two old works, Thomas Hill's Trofitable 
 Art of Gardening, 4to, 1579, and Henry Dethicke's Gar- 
 dener's Labyrinth, 158G, in which directions ai-e given for 
 making "proper knots" in gardens. 
 
 17. Line 2C3: With— with.— Qq. and Ff. read which with; 
 
 54 
 
 but the correction made by Theoltald has been pretty 
 universally adopted: tchich icith does not seem to make 
 any sense. 
 
 ACT I. ScKNE -2. 
 
 18. Line 5: dear IMP.— This word originally meant a 
 scion, offspring, graft, hence the old infinitive impen, to 
 graft. Spenser uses it in its original simple sense of "off- 
 spring : " 
 
 And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove. 
 
 — Fairy Queen, Int. to book i. si. 5. 
 
 How it came to be used only in a bad sense as "a child 
 of Satan," or a "demon," is doubtful. In Cliapman's 
 Monsieur D'Olive two pages are introduced to O'Olive: 
 Pacque says (of Digue) "he hath as good Court breeding 
 as anie Impe in a Countrie," iv. 1 (Works, vol. i. p. 232). 
 Hence it seems specially applied to a page, such as Moth 
 was. 
 
 19. Line 10: tough SE.MijK. — Q. 1 reads s/^/itor and F. 1 
 signeur. Malone says, " signior ajipears to have been the 
 old spelling of senior," but there is little doubt that a 
 pun was intended here, and signior might be the right 
 reading. The Spanish title corresponding to signior is 
 seflor; but it is hardly ever written correctly in any old 
 English play. 
 
 20. Line 3G: crosses love not him. — This pun occurs more 
 than once in Shakespeare. The old penny "had a double 
 cross stamped on it so that it might easily be broken into 
 lialf or into <iuarters." Many other coins were marked 
 with a cross on the one side, hence crosses came to be 
 used as equivalent to money. The gypsies' practice of 
 crossing the liand with a piece of niuney is to be referred 
 to the same origin. 
 
 21. Line 57: the dancing horse. — This was Baiikes' cele- 
 brated performing horse " Morocco," of which mention 
 is made by many writers of the time, amongst others by 
 Ben Jonson, Hall, Sir Walter Raleigh, Ac. &c. Morocco 
 appears to have been a very accomplished animal ; he is 
 said to Iiavc gone up to the top of St. Paul's in 1000; and 
 Sir Kenelm Digby mentions many of the clever tricks 
 wliich he performed. Steevens gives the following quo- 
 tation from Chrestoloros, or Seven Bookes of Epigranies 
 (by Tliomas Bastard), 1598 : 
 
 O/" Jitrfi^trs's Horse. 
 Baitkes liath a horse of wondrous qualitie 
 For he can fijjht, and dance, and lie, 
 And fiiul your purse, and tell what coyne ye have : 
 Kut Biinkes who taught your horse to smell a knave? 
 
 22. Line 90: GREEN indeed is the colour of lovers.— 
 Tliis may refer to jealousy= " the green-eyed monster;" 
 or to "green willows;" or to melancholy, as Douce sug- 
 gests, quoting: 
 
 And with a^reeii and yellow melancholy. 
 
 — Twelfih N"ij;lit, ii. 4. iiO. 
 
 But it is very probable that green, was said to be " the 
 colour of lovers," simply because it implies freshness or 
 youth. 
 
 23. Line 94: slie liad a green wiV.- ?(issil)ly, as the 
 C'ainbri<lge Editors suggest, an allusion tothe green withes 
 with which Samson was bound.
 
 ACT I. Sctue 2. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT II. f:ceiie 1. 
 
 24. Line 114: Is there not a ballad, hoy. o/ the King and 
 the Beggar?— This is the ballad of "King Cophetua and 
 the Beggar- Maid." There is a further allusion to it in this 
 play. See iv. 1. 65. 
 
 25. Line 123: the rational hind Contard. — By the 
 rational hind Annado means nothing more than "that 
 reasoning beast," playing upon the douljle meaning of 
 hind, tlie animal, and hind, a boor, a menial. Shalve- 
 speare uses hind, as a word of tlie masculine gender, in 
 the following passage: 
 
 Jle were no lion, were not Romans hijtds. 
 
 —Im\. CiTes. i. 3. 106. 
 
 26. Line 136 : day-woman. — That is, the dairy maid. 
 Dcijc or dey (Swedisii deja) was an old term for a dairy- 
 maid or servant, whose duty it was to attend to the young 
 calves and tlie poultry, and to make clieese and butter. 
 Wedgwood says, "in Gloucestershire a dairy is still called 
 a dey-house." 
 
 2T. Line 141: That's /iere6»/.— Jaquenetta uses hereby 
 in the sense of " as it may happen." Annado takes it to 
 mean " close by." 
 
 28. Lines 187, 188: rust, rapier! he still, dnua! for your 
 manager is in love. — The word manage is frequently used 
 in relation to weapons: 
 
 Yea, distaff-women Maiiaj;c rusty bills. 
 
 —Rich. II. iii. 2. iiS. 
 and again in II. Henry IV., iii. 2. 292: 
 
 Come i>ui>ing€ me your caliver. 
 
 29. Line 190: / shall turn SONNET.— So Qq. and l-'f. 
 Haniner proposed sonneteer; Capell, sonneter; Amyot, a 
 sonnet; Dyce reads sonnetist; Grant White adopted sun- 
 nets, the suggestion of an American critic, Dr.Verplanck; 
 Staunton at first warmly welcomed this emendation and 
 printed sonnets in his first edition, but afterwards re- 
 verted to tlie old reading. No instance of the use of the 
 verb "to turn," in such a sense, is to be found in Shake- 
 speare. I would propose tune sonnets; the verb tune be- 
 ing used frequently by Shakespeare in a metaphorical 
 sense, tlie expression being not unsuitable to Armado's 
 style. Compare: 
 
 — to a pretty ear she iioies lier t?.le. 
 
 — Venus and Adonis, line 74. 
 And to the nightingale's complaining notes 
 Tiittc my distresses and record my woes. 
 
 — Two Gent, of Verona, v. 4. 5. 
 
 But the old reading is explained, "I shall turn sonnet," 
 i.e. "I shall turn all poetry from top to toe." (See 
 Schmidt's Le.xicon sub voce.) The passage in Much Ado 
 about Nothing, ii. 3. 21, now is he turned orthography, 
 is quoted as being apposite. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 30. Line 1: your dearest spirits.— Dearest is here used 
 in the sense of highest, noblest. Compare note 223. 
 
 31. Line 16: chapmen's tongues.— Chapman here means 
 a seller; not, as it is explained usually, a buyer, a custo- 
 mer. 
 
 32. Line 19: In spending your u-it in the praise of 
 mi7ie.—&o Qq. F. 1. The three later Folios read— </i«s 
 
 yotir wit in praise of mine, to avoid the emphasis neces- 
 sary on your in order to make the line scan; but the older 
 reading is preferable, as it is more empliatic. 
 
 33. Line 25: Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course. 
 —So both Qq. and Ff.; but it would be a much better line 
 if we could venture to read 
 
 Therefore to us it seems a needful course. 
 
 34. Line 39: Lord LongaviUe isone.—Qti. Ff. omit Lord. 
 probably by an oversight, as the name of the speaker is 
 written simply Lur. — Lord is necessary to tlie scansion. 
 
 35. Line 42: Of Jaques Falconbridge, soUmnized.^ 
 Jatiues is always used as a dissyllable in Shakespeare. 
 Solemnized must be pronounced as a quadrisyllable (sol- 
 emnized), with the accent on the second and last syllables. 
 as in The Tempest, v. 1. 309. In the other passages 
 wliere the verb occurs (in verse), viz., in Merchant of 
 Venice, ii. 9. 6, also iii. 2. 194 ; King John, ii. 1. 539 ; 
 I. Henry VI., v. 3. 168; it is pronounced 607(;(;tJii2'd, with 
 the accent on ttie first syllable; and in all these latter 
 cases the e, which is not elided in F. 1 in the first two 
 cases, is carefully elided; showing the importance of pay- 
 ing attention to the elision of the e in words ending in 
 ed, so much insisted on in this edition. 
 
 36. Line 44: A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd. — 
 — So Ff. Q. 2: but Q. 1 reads "of soveraigne pcerelsse he 
 is esteemd," i.e. "sovereign peerless," a reading which 
 various endeavours have been made to explain, but not 
 very successfully. In this instance Q. 1 appears to be 
 wrong. 
 
 37. Line 45: In arts irell fitted, glorious in arms.— Qq. 
 F. 1 read well fitted in arts; F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, read well fitted in 
 THE arts, which certainly makes a better line. The trans- 
 position, as we have printed it in the text, was made 
 before seeing Grant White's similar suggestion. It is a 
 slight alteration, but greatly improves the line; as it 
 avoids the rhyming of arts with parts in the middle of the 
 previous line. 
 
 38. Line 82: co»ipe<(7oi-6'.— Shakespeare uses the word 
 ns = associate in Antony and Cleopatra, in three passages, 
 and elsewhere: e.g. — 
 
 Melius. These three world-sharers, these competitors. 
 
 — Ant. and Cleo. ii. 7. 76. 
 
 39 Line 88: unpeopled house.— So Yi. Q. 2; Q. 1 reads 
 unpeeled, which the Cambridge editors adopted ; but it 
 makes no sense; while unpeopled does, for the king's palace 
 was unpeopled, in the sense that he admitted no visitors. 
 
 40. Line 114: Did not I dance tvith you in Brabant 
 once?— Thi& speech is given by Q. 1 to Katharine. The 
 characters are much confused in this scene in the old 
 copies. 
 
 41. Lines 129, 130: 
 
 King. Madam, your father here doth intimate 
 
 The payment of a hundred thousand crowns. 
 For this claim of the King of Navarre on the King of 
 France there appears to have been historical authority. 
 We give here the passage 1 (| noted, l)y Hunter, from 
 
 1 The Chronicles of Enguerraud de Monstrelet, &c., translated by 
 Thomas Johnes, Esquire, 8vo, 1810. Vol. i. p. 108. 
 
 55
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Moustrelet, and alliuleil to in the introductidu to this 
 play: 
 
 Charles. King of Navarre, came to Paris to wait on the king. He 
 negotiated so successfully with the king and privy-council that he 
 obtained a gift of the castle of Nemours, with some of Jts dependent 
 castle-wicks, which territory was made a duchy. He instantly did 
 homage for it, and at the same time surrendered to the king the 
 castle of Cherljurgh. the county of Evreux, and all other lordships he 
 possessed within the kingdom of France, renouncing alt claims or 
 profits in them to the king and to his successors, on condition that 
 with the duchy of Nemours the king of France engaged to pay him 
 two hundred thousan<l gold crowns of the coin of the king our Lord. 
 
 42. Line 145: On payment of, il-c.—Qq. Ft. read one. 
 Theobald first corrected the mistake, and at the same 
 time explained the passage. Navarre's father had lent 
 the King of France 200,000 crowns, on the mortgage of 
 the province of Aquitaiue. The King of France says 
 that half the sum has been paid, and now wants it re- 
 funded— Navarre to keep Aquitaine ; but the latter does 
 not see it: he says the king should rather pay the other 
 half of the debt, and demand Aquitaine back again. Tliis 
 is the gist of Theobald's e.xplanation ; but it would seem 
 tliat Navarre only held part of Aquitaine: 
 
 0>:e fart ly" Aquitaine is bound to us, 
 
 and he says it is not worth the money yet owing (100,000 
 crowns); and further, he says he would rather have the 
 money his father lent the king. 
 
 Than Aquitaine %Q gelded 2^% it is. 
 
 From which it seems clear that the whole ijroviiice was 
 not held by him as security. 
 
 43. Line 147 : depart ivithal. — The most remarkable use 
 of "depart" in the sense of "to part" or "to separate" 
 is found in the Old Liturgy of the Church of England, in 
 the Marriage .Service:— "I, N. take thee M. to my wedded 
 wife, ifcc. &c., tyl deth us depart," which, in lOGl, was 
 altered into "till death us do part." The original form 
 of the marriage vow is found in George Wilkins" play, 
 The Miseries of Enforced Marriage, 4to, 1607, i. 1. 
 
 Scar. This hand thus takes thee as my loving wife. 
 Clare. For better, for worse. 
 Scar. Ay, tilt death us dej*arf, love. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. i.\. p. 479. 
 
 44. Line 190: So poynt.—TXxne is a wretched pun here 
 on the French negative point. 
 
 45. Line 195: The heir of Alen<;on. Kntharii.e her name. 
 — Qq. and Ff. all read Rosaline, and below (line 210) 
 Katharine instead of Jiosaline. But the confusion of 
 names in this scene, as was remarked above, is very 
 great ; and there seems no object in making Dumain in- 
 ([iiire after Iloxali ne a.iu\ Biron after Katharine, especially 
 as Longaville seems to succeed in detecting his Maria. 
 Katharine says, speaking of Dumain, in this scene (line 
 61): 
 
 I saw him at the Duke ^leti(o>i's once. 
 
 While Maria says (lines 40-44), that slie saw Longaville at 
 the marriage of the "beauteous heir of Jaques Falcon- 
 bridije." lioyet speaks of Maria, without doubt, as "an 
 heir of Falconhridge;" and therefore most probably he is 
 speaking of Katharine when he says "the heir of Alen- 
 son," and not of Rosaline. 
 
 56 
 
 46. Line 223: jVj/ lips are no common, though several 
 they be. — Several meant a part of the common land, set 
 apart for several or separate use; distinct from the rest 
 of the common, which was available for all beasts to 
 graze on that belonged to the various commoners. What 
 Maria means to say is— punning on the word several in its 
 sense of separateor 2>arted,~" MyliDs are not common for 
 every beast to pasture on, liut are several or set uj>art for 
 those whom I choose to let kiss them." Buyet evidently 
 takes the word as meaning "the property of a separate 
 person;" for he answers Maria, "Belonging to whom?" 
 to which she replies, still keeping uj) the idea of the 
 several, in its agricultural sense, "To my fortunes and 
 me." In Travailes of The three Engli.sh Brothers there 
 is a passage very similar to the one in the text: 
 
 Narletjiiin. But slice shall bee no couiiitoit thing, if 1 can keepe her 
 icerall. — Day's Works, p. 58 (of play). 
 
 47. Line 220: the heart's still rhetoric.— Here rhetoric 
 must be pronounced with the accent on the second 
 syllable, rhetbric. 
 
 48. Line 23G.—IIis heart, like an agate, ivith yoin- print 
 impress'd. — This refers to the small figures which were 
 carved upon agates set as rings. Compare Much .Ado, 
 iii. 1. 6: 
 
 If low, an aji^afe \ery vilely cut. 
 
 49. Line 238: Uis tongue, all Impatient to speak and not 
 ■sec— The meaning of this and the following lines is, that 
 his tongue was impatient at not being able to see; and 
 that all the senses were absorbed in that of sight, desiring 
 to look on the beauty of the princess. 
 
 50. Line 24G: Hig face's own margent did quote such 
 «(»a2es.— Alluding to the custom then existing of writing 
 all notes, quotations, &c., in the margin of the page. 
 Contpare : 
 
 And what obscur'cl in this fair volume lies 
 Find written in the >narj^e>it of his eyes. 
 
 — Rom. and Jul. i. 3. 85, 86. 
 
 51. Line 249: rf/Aj)Oi'rf= "inclined to mirth" So Nares: 
 yet, notwithstanding the passages given by him in siipi)ort 
 of this interpretation of the word, it may be doubted if 
 it ever had any such distinct sense, and is not used merely 
 in an elliptic form. But Dyce, who gives the sense of the 
 word " inclined to rather loose mirth, somewhat wantonly 
 merry," adduces four passages from among many others, 
 which, in his opinion, put the question beyond any possi- 
 bility of doubt. 
 
 ACT III. SiFNE 1. 
 
 52. Line 3: Concoh'ncZ.- Doubtless this represent.'; the 
 first word, or words, of a song intende<l to be sung here. 
 Himter suggests that it maybe the corruption of oa?!^? 
 Italia'. Certain it is that the stage direction is often 
 foimd in old plays, Cantat or Cantant: or. as in Marston's 
 Dutch Courtesan, Cantat Gallic^. In God's Promises 
 (Dodsley, vol. i. p. 30G) there is a stage direction Vel 
 Anglice canat. 1 would suggest that ConeoUnel is a cor- 
 ruption of the beginning of some French song, the first 
 words, or, perhaps, the refrain, of which might have 
 been (Jnand Colinelle. Moth says immediately afterwards, 
 "Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?"
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT 111. Scene 1. 
 
 53. Line 9: biaui. —Ben Jonsoii uses this word, and it 
 occuns frequently in old writers. It is thus described by 
 Cotgrave under brmislf—" a, brarde, or daunce, wherein 
 many (men and women), holding by the hands some- 
 times in a ring, and otherwhiles at length, move all 
 togetller." 
 
 54. Line 12: canary to it ivith your feet.— The canary 
 was a favourite dance, especially in Spain, and was said 
 tu be so called because it was originally introduced from 
 tlie Canary Islands. It is described as containing "vari- 
 ous strange fantastic steps, very much in the savage 
 style" (see Douce, p 136| 
 
 55. Line IS: your hat penthonse-like o'er the shop of your 
 eyes — Compare Westward Hoe, i. 1., "Wear their /i«7«oVr 
 their eyebrows lilce politic penthouses" (Webster's Works, 
 vol. i. p. 73). The penthouses or pentices which overhung 
 the open shops of Shakespeare's time, may be seen figured 
 very clearly in the copy of the "View of C'heapside in 
 1638, taken from Historic de I'Entree Royalle de la Reyne 
 Mere du Koy tres-christien (Marie de Medicis) dans la 
 ville de Londres " (folio 1639), prefixed to part ii. of Harri- 
 son's Description of England, published by tlie NewShak. 
 .Soc. (1878). These pentliouses projected, apparently, 
 about half-way over what we should now call the pave- 
 ment, and under them was the open sliop. Above, on a 
 straii;ht pole at right angles to tlie house, hung the sign 
 of the shop. The word penthouse is still preserved, in 
 common use, to describe the sloping roof of the galleries 
 and " dedans " of our tennis-courts. 
 
 56. Line 20: thin-belly doublet. — Thin-belly is used in 
 contradistinction to great-belly, a species of doublet de- 
 scribed in the following passage from Stubbes' Anatomie 
 of Abuses: "Their dublettes are no less monstrous than 
 tlie reste; for now the fashion is tu have them hang down 
 to the middest of their thighcs, beeing so harde-quilted 
 and stuffed, bombasted and sewed, as they can verie 
 hardly either stoupe downe, or decline themselves to the 
 grounde, so styffe and sturdy they stand about them." 
 The most familiar instance of the great-bellied doublet is 
 in tlie figure of our old friend Punch Planche (Cyclo- 
 paidia of Costume, vol. i. p. 174) mentions that Bulwer, 
 writing in 1053, called them pease-cod bellied doublets. 
 
 57. Line 25: make them men of note — do you note vie?— 
 This emendation of Hanmei-'s is now generally adopted. 
 Qq. and Ff. read inen of note: do you note JIEN that, &c. 
 Malone adhered to this reading, printing it thus (do yon 
 note, men?) that, (tc. It may be that the passage was 
 intended to read thns: " Make them men of note — do you 
 note?— men that most are affected with these?" 
 
 58. Line 28: By my penny of observation. — Q. 1, F. 1, 
 F. 2, read penne here, and Q. 2, F. 3, F. 4. alter it to pen. 
 Pen does not make very good sense; unless we take it to 
 mean tlie pen with whidi Motli noted down his obser- 
 vations of mankind. Penny was undoubtedly used as a 
 general term for money, and is now, especially in Scot- 
 land. 
 
 59. Line 30: "The hobby-horse is forgot." — A quota- 
 tion from some popular ballad. In the old May- 
 games of RoV>in Hood, among otlier characters, there 
 
 appeared Maid Marian and the hobby horse ; the latter 
 being managed by some youth, who took great pride in 
 displaying his skill in imitating "the prancings and cur- 
 vettings" of a spirited horse. But these two characters, 
 together with tlie Friar, were suppressed after the Re- 
 formation. Tliis egregious reform was tlie subject of 
 much banter on the part of unregenerate dramatists in 
 Shakespeare's time. Hamlet's allusion to it will be 
 readily remembered: 
 
 For O, for O the hobby-horse is forgot. Hamlet, iii. i. 142. 
 
 60. Line 62: You are too swift, sir.— Swift had a special 
 meaning, "ready at replies," or, as we should say, "good 
 at repartee." So in As You Like It, v. 4. 65: "he is 
 very swift and sententious;" and in Taming of the Shrew, 
 v. 2. 52-54 : 
 
 Tra. O sir, I.iicentio slipp'd me like his grejliound, 
 Which runs himself and catches for his master. 
 Pet. A good S7ri/t simile but something currish. 
 
 61. Line 67: voluble.— So Ff. and Q. 2; Q. 1 reads voluble. 
 The latter word does not occur in any other passage ; it 
 must lie supposed to have been coined by Holofemes from 
 volare, to fly, on the model of amabilis from amare. It 
 does not make any jiarticular sense here ; therefore we 
 prefer to follow the Folios. 
 
 62. Line 71: costard, properly a kind of apple, but used 
 for the head by Shakespeare and older writers. "I 'se 
 try whether your costard or my bat be the harder," Lear, 
 iv. 6. 247. So nowadaj's, in slang, we use nut for head. 
 
 63. Line 72: I'enroy. — Cotgrave defines envoy "the con- 
 clusion of a ballet or sonnet; in a short stanza by it selfe, 
 and serving, oftentimes, as a dedication of the whole." 
 In Chapman it is used as meaning the conclusion of a 
 letter. 
 
 A/'i,!:. Well said, now to the L'enroye. 
 
 Rhod. Thine, if I were worth ought; and yet such, as it skils not 
 whose I am if I be thine; leronime. 
 
 — Monsieur D'Olive, act iv. iWorks, vol. i. p. 239). 
 
 The word is used pretty often by the English authors of 
 this period, but always with the English article prefi.\ed, 
 as A I'envoye, THE I'envoye. 
 
 64. Line 74: no salve in these all.—Qq. F. 1, read in THEE 
 male; F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, in THE male. Jolmson conjectures 
 " in the vale." Male or mail is French moHc, and means a 
 bag; we still use the word for the j;(aiY = the letter bag; 
 and so for the cart or train which conveys tlie letters. 
 But how, in that sense, is tlie word appropriate here? 
 The reading in the text is a slight alteration of Tyrwhitt's 
 conjecture in them all. The plantain was supposed to 
 have great healing powers. Compare the following 
 passage in Albumazar, iv. 11: 
 
 Trincato. Bring a ireih plantain leaf, I have broke my shin. 
 — Dodsley. vol. xi. p. 399. 
 
 The resemblance to Costard's words in the text is too 
 close to be accidental. Albumazar was first acted (pro- 
 bably) in 1614. 
 
 65. Line .SI: is not V envoy a salve?— It seems evident 
 that Moth here intends a pun upon salve, Lat.; a word 
 used by the Romans at parting, as well as meeting. I 
 can find no other sense in the question; unless Moth 
 means to be satirical, and to suggest that the conipli- 
 
 57
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 ineiits, contiiineil in I'encoy, were a kind of salve, wliii-h 
 healed the defects of a bad poem or play. 
 
 66. Lines S5-93.— These lines from I will example it to 
 adding four are omitted in F. 1. 
 
 67. Line 111: And he ended the market— MhnHns to 
 the proverb, "Three women and a goose make a market." 
 Ital. " Tre donnc i un occo fan un mercato" (see Bohn's 
 Diet, iif Proverbs, p. 144: from Ray). 
 
 68. Line 130: inconij Jcic.—lncouy is supposed to be an 
 intensified form of the word canny or conny, a word used 
 in the North of England and Scotland in many senses, 
 and sometimes in that of "nice, fine." idcoji!/ is found 
 in many of the Elizabethan writers. Some editors alter 
 Jeiv to jewel; but Jew seems to be used here as a term of 
 endearment; conip. Mids.-Xight's Dream, iii. 1. 07: 
 
 Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely ye-i; 
 
 but it is possible, in both passages, it is merely a clownish 
 abbreviation itf jewel. 
 
 69. Line 140: inkle. — In Gower's prologue to act v. of 
 Pericles occur the following lines: 
 
 and with her neeld {i.g. needle) composes 
 Nature's own shape of bud, bird, branch or berry ; 
 That even her art sisters the natural roses; 
 Her iiikle, silk, twin with the rubied cherrj'. 
 
 Inkle is usually explained as "a sort of tape;" but 
 Steevens, in his note on the above passage, says: "Inkle, 
 as I am informed, anciently signified a particular kind of 
 crewfl or icorated with wliich ladies worked flower.s, &c." 
 An Inkle factory existed in Glasgow not long ago. 
 
 70. Lines 171-174: Gardon, sweet gardon! Ac— Dr. 
 Farmer pointed out a passage from A Health to the 
 fjentleiiiaiily Profession of .Serving Men, <tc., so closely 
 resembling this, that it is evident Shakespeare must 
 either have seen it, or derived this speech from the same 
 source. A gentleman staying at a friend's house gives 
 one of the servants a three farthing piece, saying, " Here 
 is a remuneration for thy paynes." Another guest gives 
 the same servant a shilling, saying, "Here is a guerdon 
 for thy deserts; now the servant payd no deerer for the 
 guerdon than he did for the remuneration; though the 
 guerdon was xid farthing better." 
 
 71. Line 181 : wimpled. — The wimple from French 
 guimple, i.e. "a cloth going from the hood round the 
 neck " (\arcs). Originally it meant "the linen cloth which 
 nuns wear about their neck" (Fr. giiiuipe). Biron pro- 
 liably alludes to the nmftler with which Cupid is some- 
 times represented as being blindfolded. 
 
 72. Line 182: This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan 
 Cupid. — Qn. Ff. read " signior Junios." The same mis- 
 print is found in Comedy of Errors, just at the end of the 
 play: 
 
 S. Drom. Not I, sir; you are my elder. 
 
 E. Drain. That 's a question, how shall we try it? 
 
 S. Drom. We 'II draw cuts for the ii^tiior. 
 
 No better description of Cupid can be well conceived than 
 senior-junior, giant-dwarf, as one who, to use the words 
 of the Princess (v. 2. 11)— 
 
 h.'is been live thousand years a boy. 
 
 In the old tragedy of Gismonde of Salerne (MS.) a similar 
 58 
 
 epithet is used of Cupid, " the little greatest god" (Dods- 
 ley, vol. vii. p. (i). 
 
 73. Line 188: paritors. — "An apparitor ur paritor, is an 
 officer of the bishop's court who carries out citations; as 
 citations are most frequently issued for sins against 
 chastity, the paritor is put under Cupi<i's governmeut." 
 (Johnson). It was the lowest ecclesiastical office. 
 
 74. Line 1S9: a coc/zorori o/Ziw/cW. — .^n officer accord- 
 ing to Tyrwliilt (on the authority of Lord Stafford's 
 Letters) similar to our aide-de-camp, and employed "in 
 taking and carrying to and fro the directions of the 
 general, or other the higher oflicers of the field." Kut 
 Douce gives an extract from Styward's Pathway to Mar- 
 tial! Discipline, 1581, 4to (taken from a chapter on the 
 office of maister of the campe, and another on the 
 electing and office of the foure corporalls of the fields), 
 from which it appears that "two of the lattei- were ap- 
 pointed for placing and ordering of shot, and the other 
 two for embattailing of the pikes and billes, who accord- 
 ing to their worthinesse, if death hapnelh, are to suc- 
 ceede the great sergeant, or sergeant major" (Douce, p. 
 138). 
 
 75. Line 190: And wear hLt colours like a tumbler's 
 hoop.'— Tumbler's hoops were bound with ribands, and 
 worn over one shoulder and under the opposite arm, as a 
 military scarf is now worn. So Benedick says to Claudio; 
 " What fashion will you wear the garland of? about your 
 neck like an usurer's chain? or under your arm like a 
 lieutenant's scarf?" (Much Ado, ii. 1. 197). 
 
 76. Line 191: What, I! / love! I sue! I seek a wife! — 
 Tyrwhitt's conjecture, generally accepted. Qq. Ff. omit 
 the first /. 
 
 77. Lines 192, 193: 
 
 — like a German clock, 
 Still a-repairing. 
 
 So in Westward Hoe (by Dekker and Webster), i. 1: " Xo 
 German clock nor mathematical engine whatsoever re- 
 quires so much reparation as a woman's face" (Webster's 
 Works, vol. i. p. 70). 
 
 V8. Line 19S: whitely.—Qq., F. 1, F. 2, read whitley, hut 
 F. 3, F. 4, whitely. Cambridge editors print wightly = 
 nimble. Shakespeare does not use whitely or wightly in 
 any other passage. Whitely certainly seems the prefer- 
 able reading. 
 
 79. Line 207: Some men must love my lady and some 
 Joan.— Joan and my lady were constantly contrasted, as 
 representatives of tlie poor and rich woman. In Quarles' 
 Song by Anarchus, in Shepheard's Oracles (4to, 1046) there 
 is a verse : 
 
 Our cobblers shall translate their souls 
 
 I'roni caves obscure and shady: 
 We 'II make Tom T. as good as my Lord, 
 
 And yoafi as good as my Lady. 
 
 ACT IV. SCKNK 1. 
 
 80. Line 4: a mounting mind.— Dyce notes that this ex- 
 pression occurs in Peele's Edward I , " Sweet Nell, thou 
 should'st not be thyself, did not with thy mounting mind, 
 thy gift surmount the rest."— Works, page 379.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 81. Line 22: in/air. — This abstract use of the adjective 
 as a substantive was common enough in the Elizabethan 
 authors. We find it in Shaliespeare, among other pas- 
 sages, in 
 
 my decayed/iiir 
 A sunny look of his would soon repair. 
 
 — Coi.i. of Er. ii. I. 98. 
 
 82. Line 35: THAT my heart means no ill. — That is 
 liere equivalent to to vhom, or to which. 
 
 83. Line 36: self -sovereignty. — "Not a sovereignty over, 
 liut in themselves, so se^f-sufflciency, Ac." (Malone). 
 
 84. Lines 46-51.— All this miserable joking, about the 
 greatest lady being the thickest and the tallest, derived 
 what little humour it might have, from the fact of the 
 women's parts being played by men or lads. The part of 
 the Princess would be taken by the chief representative 
 of women, who probably was the broadest and the tallest 
 of that portion of the company. 
 
 85. Line 56: Break up this capon. — In French poulet is 
 used for a love-letter, and so, in Italian, was pollicino. To 
 break up is to carve; so, "Break not up the wildfowl till 
 anon."— Westward Hoe, ii. 1 (Webster's Works, vol. i. p. 
 88). In The Wounds of Civil War break up is used in the 
 sense of open, without any double meaning. 
 
 Laborius read, and drc-tii these letters up. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. vii. p. 13-. 
 
 86. Line 67: Penelophon. — T\\M Qq. and Ff. read Zene- 
 lophon. But the name of the beggar, whom King Cophe- 
 tua marries in tlie b.allad, is Penelophon; and there seems 
 no reason why Armado should liave written the name in- 
 correctly. 
 
 87. Line 68: anatomize.— ^0 F. 2, F. 3, F. -1. Qq. and F. 1 
 read annothanize, whicli is nonsense. No such word can 
 ije formed on any Greek or Latin basis. Knight says 
 ' ' evidently a pedantic form of annotate; " but Dyce shows 
 fro7u a passage in The Tragedie of Claudius Tiberius Nero 
 (1607), that anatomize is written anotainize. Anatomize 
 is a sufficiently affected synonym for to analyze. 
 
 88. Line 00: Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar. 
 —Compare the passage in Hamlet, i. 4. S3 : 
 
 As hardy .as the Nevieait lion's nerve. 
 
 Lines 90-95 evidently form a kind of postscript to the 
 letter; and do not belong to Boyet, to whom they are 
 often wrongly assigned. 
 
 89. Line 109: who is the suitor?— Suitor here is pro- 
 nounced shooter for the sake of the pun. The verb suit 
 was, apparently, often pronounced like that, and written 
 .■ihute, e.g. in Chapman's All Fooles, ii. 1: 
 
 Steale up a match iii:shiUi>i£; his estate. 
 
 — Works, vol. i. p. 132. 
 
 90. Line 140: Ar)nador at //i' one 6ide.— The text here is 
 corrupt. Q. 1 reads ath toothcn; F. 1, Q. 2, ath to the; 
 F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, ath to. Rowe altered it to th' one. Dyce 
 reads 0' tite one. We have pi-eferred at th' one as being 
 nearest the hieroglyphic in F. 1 and Q. 1. Below (line 
 149) we have kept the reading of Qq. Ff., which all agree 
 in printing at other altered to 0' t' other (we think tm- 
 necessarily) by most modern editors. An instance of the 
 
 use of other for the other may be found in Chapman's 
 Bussy D'Anibois: 
 
 Each took from other. 
 
 — Works, vol. ii. p. 23. 
 
 ACT IV. ScKNK 2. 
 
 91. Lines 3-8: SANGUIGNO, inhlood, itc— Thereadingthat 
 I have ventured to substitute for the ordinary one in this 
 passage requires some explanation. Let me state, as briefly 
 as possible, the reasons for believing that Holofernes, in 
 this speech, is intended to use Italian and not Latin words, 
 both in this case and in that of cielo and terra (lines 5 and 
 7). Qq. and Ff. all read s.VNGuis in blood, for wliich Capell 
 first, and, after him, most modern editors read in sanguis, 
 blood; a reading which, when we come to consider it, is 
 really nonsense. In blood is an expression of the chase, 
 and means " to be fit for killing." It also means "in a state 
 of perfect health and vigour." The expression occurs in 
 Shakespeare in three other passages. In I. Henry VI. , i v 2. 
 48, 49 : 
 
 If we be English deer, be then :>i /t/co,/; 
 Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch. 
 
 In Coriolanus (twice): 
 
 Tliou rascal, that art worst tit I'looci to rim. 
 
 -i. I. 163. 
 But when they shall see, sir. his crest up again, and the man in 
 blood, they will out of their burrows, &c. — iv. 5. 225. 
 
 It is manifestly ridiculous to separate in from blood in 
 this passage. What possible sense can be made of sanguis.' 
 It is not Latin for in blood, or for any adjective that could 
 bear that sense; but there is an Italian adjective, sangtti- 
 gno, or, as it was written sometimes in Shakesijeare's time, 
 sanguino, which means /«ZZ of blood, sanguine; and which 
 might well be translated by in blood. Below, at line 5, 
 all the old copies (Qq. and Ff.) re.ad celo the sky, d-c, not 
 coelo; for which, as it is very unlikely Holofernes would 
 have used the dative or ablative case, the niodein editors 
 substitute ca'luin. Is it not most probable that the wonl 
 meant was the Italian word cielo? Terra is the same in 
 Italian and Latin, so that no alteration is required. 
 Holofernes uses Italian words more than once. The 
 printers corrected sanguigno, or sanguino to sanguis, 
 taking the in, very likely, to be a repetition of in. But 
 another point is that Holofernes is evidently quoting 
 from a dictionary, when he says, "CIELO, the sky, the ivel- 
 kin, the heaven." On turning to Florio we find under 
 cielo—" The [leaven, the sky, the firmament, the wel- 
 kin," which, to say the least, is rather a curious coin- 
 cidence. 
 
 92. Line 9: a buck of the first /icad. — Steevens quotes 
 from Parnassus, or A Scourge for Simony (1006)— a play 
 of which the authorship is unknown— a veiy interesting 
 passage which explains all the terms relating to deer used 
 in this scene: — " Amoretto. I caused the keeper to sever 
 the rascal deer from the bucks of the first head. Now, sir, 
 a biick is the first year, a fawn; the second year, a pricket; 
 the third year, a sorrell; the fourth year, a soare; the 
 fifth, a buck of the first head; the sixth ye.ar, a couijdeat 
 buck." 
 
 93. Line 37: Dictynna. — Dictynna or Dictinna is a 
 
 59
 
 ACT IV. Stviie 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUK S LOST. 
 
 name for IMana, wliuli occurs in Ovid's Metainoriilioses. 
 book ii. 1. 411: 
 
 liccc siio coiiiitata choro Dit'tyntia per altum. 
 
 94. Liue 53: CALL the d<>ec.— Cambridge Edd. read Call 
 I the deer; Qi|. Ff. read call'd. Rowe reads, I have call'd; 
 Sin^rer, / iriU call. We have ventured to print simply 
 call, as l)einj,' nearest tlie reading of the ohl copies and 
 as nialcing good sense. It may be / have call'd is the 
 true reading, the J have having l)een droi)ped out by the 
 printers; or, perliaps, we ought to read call't for call it, 
 in whicli case the passage would run, "call it, the deer 
 tlie Princess killed, a pricket." 
 
 95. Line 85: Master Person.— Person was the old form 
 oi parson, and occurs constantly, in old English writers, 
 in that sense. In fact, they are virtually the same word 
 parson meaning nothing more than persona ecclesice, " the 
 representative of the church." It is worth remarking that 
 the word person is i)rinted jiarsun six times in Chapman's 
 Monsieur D'Olive (Works, vol. ii. pp. 210. 217. 218). Holo- 
 fernes makes a wretched, elephantine joke on the word 
 person, quasi perse-one, i.e. pierce one; the appreciation 
 of which joke is, apparently, confined to himself. 
 
 96. Line 80: 0— piercing a hogshead .' — Qq. and Ff. 
 Of persing. The Cambridge Edd. take Of to have been 
 part of the name of the speaker, Holofernes, printed 
 Hoi of; but this is rather far-fetched. The reading in the 
 te.\t seems the most proba))le one— Holofernes does not 
 understan<l the joke for a moment or two, and says, - 
 piercing a hogshead! The might very easily have be- 
 come Of in the hands of the old printers. 
 
 97. Line 97: Ah, good old Ma7ituan!—'Sot Virgil, but 
 Mantuanus the Carmelite, whose Eclogues, translated 
 into English, with tlie Latin on one side, were a school- 
 book in Shakespeare's days. 
 
 98. Lines 00, 100: 
 
 Venetia, Venetia, 
 Chi non ti vede non ti pretia. 
 Here Holofernes is showing off his Italian again. The 
 proverb is not given in Bohn's Polyglot of Foreign Pro- 
 verbs. Shakespeare doubtless took it from Florio's 
 Second Frutes. 
 
 99. Line 105: What, mg soul, verses 1 -There is a bit of 
 character-painting in this whole speech of Holofeincs 
 which seems to have been missed, Holofernes is rather 
 hurt in his vanity by .Taquenetta giving the letter to the 
 parson to read, instead of to him; and he is on tenter- 
 hooks of curiosity to know what the contents are. While 
 Sir \athaniel jiuzzles over the verses, Holofernes walks 
 restlessly up and down, airing his .scraps of Latin and 
 Italian, keeping his eyes still on the curate; till at last he 
 asks, point blank, "What are the contents? or rather, as 
 Horace says in his"— (be is going to quote- 1 know not 
 what lines of Horace)— when, unable to restrain his curio- 
 sity, he peeps over Nathaniel's shoulder, and sees that 
 the letter contains verses: his self-conceit is more than 
 ever aggrieved that such matters as "verses" should be 
 submitted to any one but to him, the learned arbiter 
 elegantiarum, Ac. The happy way in which the intense 
 
 60 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 self-conceit of Holofernes is portrayed in tliis scene, 
 and in v. 1, is one of the most marked promises of 
 Shakespeare's future excellence w hich this early work of 
 his displays. Tlie jiedaiit must be sliowing otf, or he is 
 miserable. 
 
 100. Line 122: 'That siXfiETH heaven's praise," &c. —We 
 have ventured to iiriiit .si/ij/c^/i in preference to SINGS THE 
 heavens, as Dyce— following Walker— reads. Q. 1 has 
 singes, which, doubtless, was the ri^rht reading, pro- 
 nounced, as in Chaucer, as a dissyllable. 
 
 101. Line 130: tyred horse. — Not necessarily Bankes" 
 horse, but any horse tyred, ie. clothed in its trappings. 
 We prefer tgred, which is a distinct word, to 'tired, for 
 attired; because the confusion with tired, i.e. weary, is 
 avoided: altliough it is possible to tyre is merely an old 
 abbreviation of to attire. In Lilly's Mother Bonibie 
 (iv. 2) there is a passage of words between Hackney- 
 man and some of the servant- boys, in the course of 
 which Hackney-man asks, " But why didst thou boare 
 him (the horse) through the ears?" to which Halfpenny 
 answers, "it was for tiring." A. tyred horse may be said 
 to imitate his rider in what is called the manege, when 
 he steps, with the right or left foot, to a rhythmical pace, 
 directed liy the pressure of the right or left foot of the 
 rider. 
 
 102. Line 133: Ay, sir, from one Mmisieur Biron. — 
 Mason was quite right in pointing out that Shakespeare 
 forgot himself in tliis passage, .laquenctta says above, 
 the letter " was given me by Costard, and sent me from 
 Don Armado;" and up to this time she has not, as far as 
 we know, seen Biron, who gave the letter (iii. 1. 168, 169) 
 to Costard with a shilling: Don Armado having given him 
 one for Jaquenetta, just previously, with a "remunera- 
 tion" of three farthings. Costard has already delivered 
 the latter missive to Rosaline, by mistake; having, pro- 
 bably, given the i)resent letter previously to Jaquenetta, 
 who, lieing unable to read, brings it to the Parson to be 
 interpreted. Co.«tard may have told her Biron had given 
 him a letter to deliver, and so she may have known the 
 name; but the slip on the part of the author is none the 
 less obvious. 
 
 103. Line 146: Trip and go, my sweet. — 1'\\e hwrihen oi 
 an old song: Ritson mentions an ancient musical medley 
 beginning Trip and go hey! 
 
 ACT IV. SCENK 3. 
 
 104. Line 3: / am toiling in a pitch.— AWmling to the 
 dark complexion of Rosaline; of which we shall hear a 
 good deal more presently. 
 
 105. Line 4: sit thee doten, sorrotd — Qq. and Ff. all 
 read set, but in the former passage (i. 1. 317) they all 
 read sit; and as Biron refers especially to those words, 
 as having liceu spoken by Costard, it is better to adhere 
 to sit. 
 
 106. Line 7: as mad as Ajax: it kills i/jeep.— Alluding 
 to the madness which came upon Ajax, after his defeat 
 by riysses in the contest for the armour of .VcIiiUes, when 
 he killed the sheep of the Greek army, fancying they
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVES LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 were his enemies. Shakespeare alludes to this madness 
 again, II. Henry VI. v. 1. 26, 27: 
 
 }'or^:. And now, like .-//ajc Telamonius, 
 
 On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury, 
 
 107. Line 20: / would not care a pin, if the other three 
 were ui.— This is always printed as prose; but I think it 
 was very probably intended for a rhymed couplet, and 
 should be printed as such. 
 
 108. Line 23: [Conceals hiiiiself in the branches of a 
 tree.— The old stage direction in Q. 1 and F. 1 is, He standx 
 aside. C'apell added, after line 23, [i/ets up into a tree; 
 which direction is retained in Buncombe's .Vcting Edition. 
 The reason for this somewhat awkward piece of " busi- 
 ness" is, apparently, to be found in lines 79, SO, where 
 Biron says: 
 
 Like a demigod here sit I in the sky. 
 
 And wretched fools* secrets heedfuUy o'er-eye- 
 
 But it is a question whether the expression "sit I in the 
 
 i/.-.v " is not entirely figiu'ative. 
 
 109. Line 23: siceet Cupid: thou bast thionp'd him with 
 thy bird-bolt, itc— The bird-bolt was ' a short thick arrow 
 with a broad flat end, used to kill birds without piercing. 
 Frequently ascribed to Cupid" (Nares). So in Much Ado, 
 Beatrice says of Benedick, "He set up his bills here in 
 Messina and challenged Cupid at the flight ; and my 
 uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, 
 and challenged him at the bird-bolt" (i. L 42). 
 
 110. Line 48: he comes in like a perjure, wearing 
 papers.— Perjure for " perjurer." Dyce says, " this word 
 was formerly common enough (which I mention because 
 here some editors print 'perjured.')" I cannot find any 
 instance of the use of this word perjure for "perjurer," 
 or "perjured," except in the passage, from the old play 
 of King John, act ii., quoted by Staunton: 
 
 But now black-spotted Perjure as he is. 
 
 — Hazlitt's Shak. L.ib. part ii. vol. i. p. 231. 
 
 The vioxH perjure occurs neither in Xares' Glo.ssarj-, nor in 
 Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaic Words. Perjurers were 
 obliged to wear papers on theii' breasts describing their 
 offence. (See passages quoted in Steevens' Note — Var. Ed. 
 vol. iv. p. 366.) 
 
 111. Lines 53, 54 : 
 
 Thou makest the triumviry, the CORNER-CAP of society. 
 The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up sinqdicity. 
 Corner-cap lias been explained as '' chief ornament. " it 
 really means the beretta, or three-cornered cap of a Konian 
 Catholic priest, as is proved by the following passage in 
 Xew Custom, 1573 (Dodsley, vol. iii. p. 11): 
 
 U is a pestilent knave, lie will have priests no atrner-cap to wear; 
 and by another in Middleton's Family of Love, iv. 1 
 (Works, vol. ii. p. 164). The three corners of tlie beretta 
 are arranged something like the triangular part of the 
 (fallows, which e.vpluins the allusion in the latter of the 
 two lines quoted above. 
 
 112. Line 59: Disfujure not his SHAPE. —Qq. and Ff 
 read shop. Theobald's conjecture slop is followed by 
 Cambridge, Globe, and other modern editions. (See Cot- 
 grave; a slop—--\i3Mt de chausse;" which, sub voce chausse 
 he e.xjdains as "a breek or breech, in which sense it is 
 
 most commonly plural in contradistinction to bas de 
 chausse, hose or stockings." I agree with Staunton in 
 preferring shape; we find shope often written for shaped: 
 *-/ia^e is a manuscript correction in Lord Ellesmere's copy 
 of the First Folio. Slops generally mean loose wide 
 breeches. It is true slop is used in the singular, in 
 Romeo and Juliet (ii. 4. 47), "your French slop." Slop is 
 "a smock frock, any kind of outer garment made of 
 linen. " Strutt (vol. ii. p. 211) quotes, from a manuscript, ' ' a 
 sloppe is a mourning cassocke for ladies and gentlewomen, 
 not open before." Jly objection to the leading slop is that, 
 neither in the singular nor plural, can slop me«n hose; 
 and, taking the yuards, or ornaments, from Cupid's hose 
 could not disfigure his breeches. The guards, or em- 
 Ijroidery, put upon hose are generally for the purpose of 
 improving the shape of the leg; therefore I think the 
 reading shape on the whole preferable. It may be noted 
 that shape is often used, in the sense of a costume or 
 dress, by the old dramatists. 
 
 113. Line 74: This is the liver-vein. --The liver was held 
 in Shakespeare's time to be the special seat of love; there 
 is no doubt of this fact, although we should hardly ex- 
 pect that organ to be selected as the seat of amatory 
 passion. Here are two of the passages from our old 
 dramatists which illustrate this belief. From Lilly: 
 
 Sir Tophas. — I brook not this idle humour of love, it tickleth 
 not my liver, from whence the love-mongers in former age seemed to 
 inferre they should proceed. — Endimion, i. 3. ivol. i. p. 12). 
 
 From Chapman (speaking of a woman who will not re- 
 spond to his courtship): 
 
 Monsieur.— %\\3& a li-jer as hard as a bisket. 
 
 — Bussy D'Ambois, iii. i (Works, vol. ii. p. 51 1. 
 
 114. Line 78: All hid, all hid.— Taken from the cry of 
 children when playing "Hide and Seek." 
 
 115. Line 86: By earth, she is not, corporal.— This is the 
 reading of Qq. and Ff. Most modern editors adopt 
 Theobald's conjecture "she is but corporal," taking 
 corporal to mean corporeal, and to be a contradiction 
 of the epithet divine. But before (iii. 1. 189) Biron 
 calls himself "a corporal of his (love's) field:" again in 
 this scene (line 290) he says, addressing his three fellow- 
 academics, 
 
 Have at you, then, affection's men-itf-arms. 
 
 It seems probable enough that he might have applied the 
 terra corporal to Dumain, perhaps intending some play 
 on the word at the same time. 
 
 116. Line 87: Her amber hair for foul hath amber 
 COTED. — Dyce, Staunton, and the Cambridge Edd. all read 
 here quoted, which reading Douce supports in his Illus- 
 trations (page 142), although he prints the word coted. 
 The verb quote occurs nine times in Shakespeare, five 
 times in the present tense, twice in the past tense, and 
 twice in the past participle. In all these passages, with 
 the exception of the two which occur in this play, the 
 verb is spelt quote. In ii. 1. 246, 247, 
 
 His face's own margent did quote such amazes 
 That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes, 
 
 it is spelt in F. 1, Q. 1, coate. In the other passage, v. 
 
 2. 796, "we did not quote them so," it is spelt cote 
 
 Q. 1 ; coat F. 1. Putting aside the question whether, in 
 
 61
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 these twii iJiisSiiges, the verb intended is quote, or cote, 
 there can be little doubt tliat, in the passage l)efure us, 
 cote is tlie right reading. In >'ares' Glossary the verb t« 
 cote is rightly explained as derived from contoycr, old 
 French, and being the same as cucust. In the well-known 
 passage iu Uanilct— the only other instance of the occur- 
 rence of this word in Shakespeare— " we coted them on 
 the way, and hither are tliey coming," Hamlet, ii. 2. 330, 
 the sense is clearly " we passed them on the way." 
 
 117. Line 89 : .S7oop«, / say. —The old reading is gtoope. 
 Dyce gives stoops from the conjecture of Swynfen Jervis. 
 
 118. Line 106: gan passage jind— Can is the reading of 
 Q(l. and Ff. The I'assionate rilgrim (lfi99) and England's 
 Helicon (1600) hotli read gan. 
 
 119. Line lOS: Wixh'd.-So F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, and Passion- 
 ate Pilgrim. Qq. and F. 1 read irisli. 
 
 120. Line 110: ^1 A .'—Johnson's conjecture. Air is the 
 reading of the old copies. 
 
 121. Line 117: Thou/or ivhom GRE.iT Jove U'ould swear. 
 — I had inserted the word great before I saw Collier's 
 emendation to the same effect. All the old copies read 
 
 Tllou/or whom love 7i'0iti(i siufar; 
 
 a line which will not scan, unless love be i)ronounced as a 
 dissyllable l-nve. 
 
 122. Line 142: One, her hair's gold ; crystal the other's 
 eyes.—XW. the old copies read, hairs weke gold. F. 2, F. 3, 
 V. 4, omit tlie one (which F. 1 prints on), and so make the 
 line scan. Tlie Cambridge Edd. read One, her hairs were 
 gold, which makes a dreadfully inharmonious line; Dyce 
 adopts Walker's conjecture, Onk's hairs were gold. We 
 prefer omitting the were, which was, perhaps, inserted 
 originally by mistake. 
 
 123. Line 146: A faith infringed.— SiO F. 2, F. 3, F. 4: 
 in spite of the fact mentioned by Cambridge Edd. that 
 in y 1 this line stands at the top of a page, and Fayfh i.s 
 the catchword on the preceding page, we believe a faith 
 to be the right reading. 
 
 124. Line 160: To sec a king transformed to a gnat! — 
 '■.•Alluding to the singing of that insect .suggested by the 
 poetry the king had been detected iii."-~IIeath. Theo- 
 bald conjectured knot; Johnson sot; and Becket qnat, 
 which Staunton supports, iiuoting lago's speech (Othello, 
 V. 1. 11): " 1 have rubb'd this young qnat almost to the 
 sense." The First (Quarto in tliat passage reads gnat. 
 Qnat meant originally a pimple, and then was used for 
 a simpleton or an insignificant fellow. Certainly quat is 
 a very plausible suggestion ; but the following passage 
 from Pericles affords a strong indirect testimony to the 
 correctness of the old reading : 
 
 Simon tries. O, attend my daughter : 
 
 Princes in this, should live like ^ods above, 
 Who freely K've to every one that comes 
 To honour them: 
 
 And princes not doing so are iii-e lo £>iat.', 
 Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at. 
 
 — Pericles, ii. 3. 58-63. 
 
 125. Line 180: yVith men, like men— of strange incon- 
 stancy.— Q(i. and F. 1 read 
 
 lf'i//i tneii like meti of inconstancy. 
 
 The three later Folios insert strange, which makes the 
 62 
 
 line scan; but tliey print the latter part of the sentence, 
 like )nen of strange inconstancy, without any stop. 
 Various have been the conjectures put forward, moon- 
 like men; vane-like men; men, like you; the latter being 
 adopted by the Cambridge Edd. Certainly it is plausible 
 enough, but, on the principle we have adopted, we prefer 
 tlie correction of the Second Folio. 
 
 126. LinelS2: Or groan for JoA^'! — Many editors read 
 loce instead of Joan, on the authority of a cojiy of t^. 1 in 
 possession of the Duke of Devonshire. The Cambridge 
 Edd. give three other variations, found in the same copy, 
 wliich cert.ainly do not impress one with any exalted idea 
 of its sui)erior accuracy: jMdcr Unimper, and croporall for 
 corporal, are not very happy emendations. YorJoan, see 
 hist line of act iii. : 
 
 Some men nmst love my lady and some jfoan. 
 
 127. Line 185: a gait, a state, &c. — Steevens says, "Slate, 
 I believe, in the present instance, is opposed to gait (i.e. 
 tlie motion), and signifies the act of standing." So in 
 Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 3. 22: 
 
 Her motion and her station are as one. 
 
 128. Line 207: you three fools lack'd j»ie fool to make 
 vp the mess. — A mess originally meant a party of four. 
 See Nares, sub voce. "As at great dinners or feasts the 
 company was tisually arranged into fours, which were 
 called messes, and were served together, the word came 
 tf) mean a set of four, in a general way." So in Peele's 
 Edward I. (Works, p. 393), "I'll be Robin Hood, . . . 
 thou shalt be little John, and here is Friar David as fit 
 as a die for Friar Tuck. Now, my sweet Nell, if you will 
 make up the mess . . . for Maid ilarian." 
 
 129. Line 212: Hence, SIRS; arvay.'— As addressed to 
 Costard and Jaquenetta, the word sirs seems rather out 
 of place; but although sir was, originally, only a term of 
 respect (derived from Latin senior); it is used in Shake- 
 speare frequently, in the plural number, .as a term of 
 address to those of lower rank than the si)eaker. In 
 Grim the Collier of Croydon, sir is used addressed to a 
 woman (Joan): 
 
 Ciaci\ . . . now, sir, if you make too nuich haste to fall foul. Sec. 
 — Dodsley, vol, viii. p. 414. 
 
 130. Line 221: Did they.' Who sees, &c.— Qq. and Ff. 
 read Did they, yuoTH YOU? but the latter words are 
 better omitted as unnecessary, and as spoiling the metre. 
 
 131. Line 233: 0, but for my love, &c. — For a similar 
 example of an accent on the possessive pronoun, as on my 
 in this line, see Chapman in Bussy d'Ambois, v. 1: 
 
 See how she merits this, still sittint; by 
 
 And mourning itis fall more than her own fault. 
 
 — 'Works, vol, ii, p, 94. 
 
 132, Line 247: black as ebony. — The ridiculous theory 
 that all black or dark-complexioned women were ugly, 
 and all fair or light-complexioned women were beautiful, 
 was one of tliose monstnuis tributes to t^neen Elizabeth's 
 vanity, ottered up daily by her obsequiims sul)jects. 
 Then will I sweare beauty herself is biach 
 And all they foul that thy complexion lack, 
 
 — Somi. ctxxii. 13, 14. 
 
 Perhaps this prejudice against dark complexions was the
 
 ACT IV. Scene ?,. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUE 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1, 
 
 survival of an old sentiment; compare Song of Solomon, 
 i. 5, " I am black but comely." 
 
 133. Line 255: school of nif)ht.— So Qq. and Ff. This is 
 certainly not a very intellijjible expression; but anything 
 is better than Warbnrtou's conjecture, "the scowl of 
 night." Suit is the plausible conjecture of the Cam- 
 bridge Edd. Stole is Theobald's conjecture, adopted by 
 Staiuiton. Whether school is here used in a technical 
 sense, and black is said to be " the school of night," as if 
 it were the master from whom night learned her dark- 
 ness, it would be hazardous to decide. 
 
 134. Lines 259, 260: 
 
 It mourns that painting and usurping hair 
 Should ravixh doters u'ith a false asjiect. 
 
 One of the many complaints, to be found in contemporary 
 writers, of the practice of painting or dyeing the hair, 
 and of wearing false hair, so prevaltnt during Elizabeth's 
 reign. Compare Sonnet Ixviii. 3-7: 
 
 Before these bastard signs of fair were bom. 
 Or durst inhabit on a living brow; 
 Before the golden tresses of the dead, 
 The right of sepulchres, were shorn away. 
 To live a second life on second head. 
 
 135. Line 268: And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion 
 C'KACK.— The word crack (or crake) in the sense of "to 
 boast " was formerly common. In Ralph Roister Doister 
 (1550) we find : 
 
 All the day long is he facing and crakiii^ 
 Of his great acts in figiiting and fray-making. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. iii. p. 5S. 
 
 In the Xorth of England and Scotland, the word is used as 
 a substantive, meaning a gossip, a friendly chat. It is also 
 used in Cumberland and Westmoreland of the wind, when 
 it gets very violent, and is pent up in the hollows of the 
 mountains—" Ay, the wind's on the crack." 
 
 136. Line 284; Then leave this chat— Fur a similar use 
 of chat compare the following passage in CJreene's Comi- 
 cal History of Alphonsus, King of Aragon (Works, p. 235): 
 
 AV'hate'er you see, be not aghast thereat, 
 And bear in mind what Amurack doth c/itif. 
 
 137. Line 288: some quillets.— Quillet is the peculiar 
 word applied to law-chicane. The origin is said by War- 
 burton to be from the French pleadings, because in them 
 " every several allegation in the plaintiff's charge and 
 every distinct plea in the defendant's answer began with 
 the words qu'il est," hence tpiillet ; compare Tinion of 
 Athens, iv. 3. 155: 
 
 crack the lawyer's voice. 
 That he tnay never more false title plead. 
 Nor sound his qitilMs shrilly. 
 
 138. Lines 299-304.— In Qq. and Ff. the following six lines 
 are found here, being part, evidently, of the original 
 draught of the speech, and quite unnecessary ; we have 
 followed Dyce and others in omitting them: 
 
 For when would you, my lord, or you, or you. 
 Have found the ground of study's excellence 
 Without the beauty of a woman's face? 
 From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; 
 They are the ground, the books, the academes 
 From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire. 
 
 These lines are simply the unexpanded form of lines 320- 
 
 323 and 350-353 respectively, the latter being almost word 
 for word a repetition of the three latter lines given above. 
 But in omitting lines 309-315 it seems to us Dyce, follow- 
 ing Capell, goes too far, and we have therefore retained 
 them. 
 
 139. Lines 344, 345: 
 
 And when Love sjvaks. the voice of all the gods 
 Make heaven drowsij with the harmony. 
 Numberless have been the efforts to make sense of this 
 passage. The question is whether the harmony is the 
 voice of Love, or the voice of all the gods. The most suc- 
 cessful attempt to make plain sense of it is Farmer's sug- 
 gestion that of and make are transposed, and we ought to 
 read 
 
 And when Love speaks, the voice mafres all the gods 
 tyheaven drowsy with the harmony. 
 
 But perhaps Biron means to say that, when Love speaks, 
 the harmonious concert of praise from the gods, addicted 
 as they were to the gentle passion, "makes heaven drowsy 
 with the harmony." 'I'he use of the plural verb with a 
 singular nominative followed by a plural genitive is 
 common in Shakespeare. 
 
 140. Lines 350-353.— The passage alluded to in tlie In- 
 troduction, which Dr. CJrosart thinks Robert Southwell 
 (in St. Peter's Complaint) founded on these lines is as 
 follows: 
 
 O sacred eyes ! the springs of living light. 
 The earthly heavens where angels joy to dwell. 
 
 Sweet volumes, stoard with learning fit for saints. 
 Whose blissfuU quires imparadize their minds ; 
 
 A\'herein eternall studie never faints 
 Still finding all, yet seeking all it finds: 
 
 How endlesse is your labyrinth of blisse. 
 
 Where to be lost the sweetest finding is ! 
 
 — Ingleby's Centurie of Prayse. p. 14. 
 
 141. Lines 368, 369: 
 
 biit he first advis'd 
 In conflict that you get the sun of them. 
 A reference to the necessity of placing the archers, in 
 battle, whenever possible, with the sun at their back. It 
 was mainly owing to the English having secured this ad- 
 vantage, that they won the battle of Agincourt. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 142. Line 2: your reasons. — Johnson notes that reason 
 here signifies discourse; so Ital. ragione, ragionare; the 
 latter word particularly, being more commonly used in 
 the sense of "to discourse," "to talk." 
 
 143. Line 5: affection.— i.e. affectation. — Compare Ham- 
 let, ii. 2. 464 ; " No matter that might indite the author 
 of affection;" and in Twelfth Night, ii. 3. 160, Malvolio is 
 called "an affection'd ass." So in this play, v. 2. 407, 
 " spruce affectation," where Qq. and Ff. have affection. 
 
 144. Line 15: thrasonical.— This, word is derived from 
 Tliraso, a braggart soldier, in Terence's Eunuch. The 
 only other passage in Shakespeare where we find it is in 
 As You Like It, v. 2. 34, when Rosalind says, " And 
 Ciusar's thrasonical brag of— I came, saw, and overcame." 
 
 145. Line 15: picked means nicely-dressed, and is derived 
 
 63
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOV^E'S LABOl'R 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 from the habit of birds who pick out, or prune their broken 
 feathers. Nashe in his Apologie of Pierce Penniless (IfitiS), 
 writes of a "picked effeminate Carpet Knight." 
 
 146. Line 21: point-ci)'vixe. —Skeat has the following ex- 
 planation of tliis word: "Point-device, L. L. L. v. 1. 21, a 
 shortened form of the older phrase, at point de«i'ce=with 
 great nicety or exactitude; as, 'With limmes (limbs) 
 wrought at point device,' Rom. of the Rose, 1. 830; a trans- 
 lation of O. F. d point devis, according to a point [of e.\- 
 actitude]; that is, devised or imagined, i.e. in the best 
 way imaginable." The expression does not occur in Cot- 
 grave or Florio, in any form, French or Knglisli. 
 
 147. Lines 23-2". — It is curious to compare these affec- 
 tations of nicety in pronunciation, mentioned liy Holn- 
 fcrnes, witli those existing in the time of our fathers and 
 grandfathers. Obleeye for oblige, goold for gold, coiv- 
 cuniher for cucumber were among the peculiarities of 
 precisians fifty years ago. In A Mad Couple Well 
 Match'd, l)y Brome, occurs the following passage: "and 
 his ilethodicall, Grave, and Orthvgraphicall speaking 
 friend . . . that cats People Pe-o-plc," i. 1 (Works, vol. i. 
 p. 5). This was published in 1653. 
 
 148. Line 28: it insinuateth me of insanie. —Dyce reads 
 "It insinuateth one of insanire — to wax frantic." The 
 alteration of insanie to inxanire, of course, involves an 
 alteration of to make, ))ecause insanire, botli in Latin and 
 Italian, is to be not to make mad. On referring to the old 
 copies, Qq. Ff. both print infant ie, but not in italics; 
 which seems to me to prove tliat it is not meant for a 
 Latin or French word, because in these old copies Latin 
 and foreign words or sentences are invarialjly printed in 
 italics. Steevens proiluces a passage from an old work — 
 The Fall and evil Successe of Rebellion from Time to 
 Time, Ac. — written by Wilfride Holme (no date), in whicli 
 insanie occurs: 
 
 In the days of sixth Henry, Jack Cade made a brag, 
 With a multitude of people, but in the consequence 
 After a little iusanif they fled tajj and raj^. 
 For .\lisander Iden he did his diligence. 
 It is quite in keeping with the affected rubbish which 
 Holofernes speaks, that he should use such a phrase as 
 it insinuateth me nf insanie for it makes me mad. 
 
 149. Line 31: Priscian a little scratch'd. — Alluding t> 
 the common phrase, "To break Priscian's head," a 
 medieval expression signifying, " To be guilty of a viola- 
 tion of the rules of grammar." 
 
 150. Line 41: alms-basket of words.— li was the custom 
 first of the religious houses, and then of rich families, to 
 put the broken meat and bread into a basket for the 
 benefit of the poor beggars who came to the door, at a 
 certain time every day, to profit l)y this bounty. In 
 Day's He of Guls (1000) we find the following passage: 
 
 I'ioUUa. .\nA the Presence were not exceeding enipty-stomackt it 
 would ne\ er disjjest such Al»!cs-baskct-scraps. — i. i. 
 
 [Works, p. II (of play).] 
 
 151. Line 44: honorificabilitudinitatibus. —B.unter says 
 in a note on this word, "The mind of .Shakespeare, when 
 he was engaged on this play, was full of recollections of 
 schools and school-keeping. He talks of a text B, and 
 to this is to be referred the honorificabilitudinitatibus 
 
 64 
 
 of Costard, a mere arbitrary and unmeaning combination 
 of syllables and devised to serve as an exercise in pen- 
 manship. " To this may be added, that it occurs in Mars- 
 ton's Dutch Courtezan. "His discourse is like the long 
 word Honorificabilitudinitatibus, a great deal of soimd 
 and no sense " v. 1 (Works, vol. ii. p. Is2). I once had 
 an old (M.S.) common-place book, about the date of 
 1740-50, on one page of whicli was recorded tlie fact that 
 " tlie longest word in the Englisli language(!) is 'IJunuri- 
 ficabilitudinitg.' " It is given in Bailey's Dictionary. 
 
 152. Line 45: jlap-dragon. — Any burning substance 
 made to float in a bowl or glass of li(iuor, and swallowed 
 whole and flaming by the person drinking. Candles' ends 
 were sometimes used, when the courage of the drinker 
 was to ))e specially tested. Raisins in hot brandy were 
 the commonest /ap-rfra(/o?is. It would appear, from tlie 
 following passage in Marston's Dutch Courtezan, that to 
 swallow jlap-dragons was one of the feats performed ))y 
 lovers in. honour of their mistresses, "—been drunke to 
 your health, swalowd flap-dragons, eate glasses, . . . 
 stabd amies, and don all the offices of protested gallan- 
 trie for your sake," iv. 1 (Works, vol. ii. p. 103). 
 
 153. Line 62 : vcnew. — Douce's learned note on this 
 word in his Illustrations of Shakespeare, pages 143-145, 
 settles the question as to the meaning of venue, or venie, 
 or venew. In most cases it undoubtedly means "a single 
 hit," and here I think, in spite of Steevens' positiveuess, 
 it means no more. 
 
 154. Line 65, &c. — Those who care to see how much, or 
 how little, Shakespeare owes to Lilly in this play, can com- 
 pare this slight passage of arms between Moth and Holo- 
 fernes with the ponderous bantering of Sir Tophas liy 
 the p.nges in Endimion, i. 3 (Works, vol. i. p. 13). Sir 
 Tophas is both pedant and braggart; but lie has not the 
 amusing self-conceit of Holofernes, nor the elaborate 
 courtesy of Arniado. 
 
 155. Line 72: circum circa. — This is another of Theo- 
 bald's ingenious emendations. Qq. and Ff. have unum 
 cita, which is nonsense. 
 
 156. Line 85: preambulate. — Qq. and Ff. read //ccaiH- 
 bulat (in italics); it may possiljly have been mistaken for 
 a stage direction in Latin, meaning, he walks in front (of 
 Holofernes). The reading of the text, however, is sup- 
 ported l)y the following passage in Chapman's comedy. 
 An numerous dayes mirth: Besha, who is an affected 
 fop, says : 
 
 Mistris will it jilease you iopreamlmlatel 
 
 — Works, vol. i. p. 5-. 
 
 157. Line 87: charge-house. — Steevens says, " I suppose 
 is the free-school." The word is not found in any other 
 passage. Most probably it means simply the common or 
 grammar school. It may be only an affected expression 
 for a school where the young "charges" were. Compare 
 Troilus and Cressida, v. 2. 6: 
 
 How now, my chnrt^e, 
 and Pericles, iii. 1. 27. 
 
 158. Line 103: remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, 
 apparel thy head. — The scene between Hamlet and Osric 
 will occur to everybody in connection with tliis passage.
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUE 'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 2. 
 
 Hamlet says, after lie has already tolil Osric to "put his 
 bonnet toils right use," "I beseech you remember" — when 
 Osric interrupts him. Probaijly Hamlet was going to have 
 used this very phrase — reineinber your courtesy. See 
 Hamlet, v. '2 108. 
 
 159. Line 110: dally ioithrnyEXCR¥.'ilK:\1, with my musta- 
 chio. — Shakespeare applies this word, which means, liter- 
 ally, an outgrowth, in three other passages to hair: 
 
 why is Time sucli a niggard of liair, being as it is so plentiful an 
 exa'etnentt — Com. of Er., ii. 2. 79. 
 
 Again in Merch. ot Venice, iii. 2. 87; and AVinter's Tale, 
 iv. 4. 734. 
 
 160. Line 133: myself— and this yallant gentleman. — 
 Some word or words seem to have dropped out of the 
 text. As we have printed it, Holof ernes stops short, as if 
 he had not made up his mind what part he was going 
 to take ; below, he says he himself will play three of the 
 worthies. Capell, followed by Dyce, reads myself or, a 
 very simple way of getting out of the diiflculty. In the 
 pageant Holofernes plays Judas JIaccaba;us himself; and 
 Nathaniel, who is now cast for Joshua, plays Alexander; 
 while Armado plays Hector. The Nine Worthies were: 
 three Gentiles, Hector, Alexander the Great, Julius 
 Cresar; three Jews, Joshua, David, Judas JIaccabreus; 
 three Christians, King Arthur, Charlemagne, Godfrey of 
 Bouillon. Hercules was uot included among them. 
 
 161. Line 135: pass as Pompey.—(lq. and Ff. read pass 
 Pompey. Capell Inserted for; the reading in the text is 
 the Cambridge Edd. conjecture. The word as is more 
 likely to have escaped the printers' notice than for. 
 Steevens suggests that pass Pompey the Great means 
 AVALK AS his representative. 
 
 162. Line 154: fadge.— This word is used in only one 
 other pissage of Shakespeare, in Twelfth Night, ii. 2. 34, 
 "how will this fadge?" Wycherley uses the word in the 
 same sense in the Country Wife, "How fudges the new 
 design ? " 
 
 163. Line 150: Vi\, goodman Dull ! — Steevens says via 
 means courage ! come on .', but it does not; it has various 
 meanings, according to the word to which it is joined. 
 Here it is used as Dl via — say on, speak out. (See Florio, 
 sub voce.) 
 
 164. Line IGl: dance the hey.—Q. 1 and F. 1 both spell 
 the dance hey, so does Sir J. Davies in his Orchestra: 
 
 I-Ie taught them rounds, and winding hty^ to tread. 
 
 It may have been aljbreviated from the Uay-degyes or hcy- 
 deguyes or hey-day-guise, a dance, the orthography of 
 which is involved in mystery. If it was French in origin, 
 it soon became nationalized, at least in Ireland, for allu- 
 sions are found in the old dramatists to the Irish hay; 
 e.g. in Day's Law Tricks, iv. 2: "a found him in his 
 study and a company of botlnos'd devils daunciiig the 
 Irish hay about him" [Works, p. C3 (of play)]. 
 
 ACT V. ScKNE 2. 
 
 165. Line 12: a shrewd unhapipy gaWnvs. — It would 
 seem that gallows here is used somewhat as we use gal- 
 lows-bird. Cotgrave gives under pendard and garncincnt, 
 " one for whom the gallowes groanes." Shakespeare uses 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 gallows in a peculiar sense in the Tempest, i. 1. 32, "he 
 hath no drowning mark upon him, his complexion is 
 perfect (/a/to«'s." 
 
 166. Line 22: in sn«/, -Staunton says, in his note on 
 this passage, "To take anything in snuff, was to take it in 
 dudgeon, to be in ill temper. Hence the equivoque, which 
 was sometimes in allusion to snuff for the nose, and 
 sometimes to the snuff of a candle." See Mids.-Night's 
 Dream, v. 1. 254: . 
 
 He dares not come there, fur tlie candle ; for you see, it is already 
 in snuff. 
 
 167. Line 42: Fair as a TEXT B in a copy-book.— S>e& 
 Hunter's remark quoted above (note 151, v. 1. 44). 'The 
 beautifully e.xecuted capital letters, with elaborate flour- 
 ishes, were once the glory of writing-masters. Now that 
 glory is departed. 
 
 168. Line 43: 'Ware pensils, ho.'—Q. 1 rends pensalls, F.l 
 2Jensals, and Q. 2, F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 pensils. Q(i. and Ff. all 
 read Hoiv! Most modern editions, following Kowe, read 
 pencils. Mason explains Rosaline to mean, " Beware of 
 pencils, that is, of drawing likenesses." But I believe the 
 word pensils or pensals was not intended for our modern 
 pencils; but rather for pensell, pensil, or pencel, from Fr. 
 pennoncel, diminutive oi pennon, "a little flag or pennon 
 fastened to the end of a lance." 'Ware 2)ensils, ho! would 
 mean, "Be on your guard ! she means fighting." There 
 may be a pun intended on the two words pencil=pen and 
 pensil. Dyce gives several instances of the misprint how 
 for ho in Shakespeare. By red dominical and golden 
 letter Hosaline means to refer to the "fashionable" colour 
 of Katharine's hair. 
 
 169. Line 61: he were but in by th' week!— So in AVeb- 
 ster's Vittoria Corrombona, "What are you in by the 
 weekJ so, I w^ill try now whether thy wit be close prison- 
 er," iii. 2 (Works, vol. ii. p. 50). It refers probably to the 
 hiring of servants, etc., by the week. 
 
 170. Line 05: all to my behests.— So P. 2, F. 3, F. i. Qq. 
 and F. 1 read " wholly to my device," another instance of 
 the folly of editors dogmatically condemning the emenda- 
 tions of F. 2 as of no value. Walker and Dyce, it is diffi- 
 cult to understand for what reason, print wholly to my 
 hests, a sort of compromise between the two readings. 
 
 171. Lines 67, 68: 
 
 So portent-like ivould I o'ersway his state. 
 That he should be my fool, and I his fate. 
 Q. 1 reads perttaunt-like, Ff. and Q. 2 pertaunt-like. 
 Portent -I'lke is Hanmer's emendation; Singer reads 
 potent-like, and Mr. Collier's venerable friend potently. 
 It is quite possible that all these are conjectures beside 
 the mark, and that either piertaunt-Wke, or pertaunt-lye, 
 may have been the word intended. "So, by taunts, as it 
 were, could I o'ersway his state." Gifford, in a note on 
 Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas, apropos of the game 
 " Post and Pair," gives an extract from a scarce volume 
 of poetry by John Davies, called Wittes Pilgrimage. 
 
 MORTALL Ln-'E Compared to Post and Pare. 
 
 Some, having lost the double Pare and Post, 
 Make their advantage on the Purrs they haue ; 
 
 65 5
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 Whereby ilie Winner's winnings all are lost, 
 AUhougli at best the other's but a knaue. 
 
 VL'R Celt deceaves the expectation 
 V( him. perhaps, that tooke the stakes away ; 
 Then to PL'R Taftt hee's in subiection 
 For Winners on the Losers oft do play. 
 
 — Ben Jonson's Works, vol. vii. p. 278. 
 
 The e.xpression is very reniaikaljle, and it is just possible 
 that the reading of the old copies is right after all. The 
 meaning of the word j)?n, though mentioned in several 
 places in connection witli this game, is a mystery. 
 
 172. Line 74: to ivantonne!^.'!. Tliis is another of the 
 emendations from F. 2. Qq. and F. 1 read to ivantoiu be, 
 which is nonsense. 
 
 173. Line 109; Jleer'd. — To fleer is explained as "to 
 laugli, to grin, to sneer." Palsgrave explains it, "Ijleere. 
 I make an yvell countenance with the mouthe by uncover- 
 ing of tlie tethe." There is no doubt it was generally 
 used in a worse sense than in this passage, where it means 
 nothing more than laughed or grinned. 
 
 174. Line 117: this spleen ridicidous.— The R'p\een was 
 sui)posed to be tlie seat of laughter. See Lilly's Endi- 
 mion, ii. 2, "Is not Love a lurcher, that takes men's 
 stomachs away that they cannot eate, their spice ne that 
 they cannot laugh. >" (Works, vol. i. p. 22). 
 
 175. Line 118: 3'o check their folly, passion's solemn 
 leaf's.— This is as Theobald "stopped" the sentence, and 
 he lias been pretty generally followed. Qq. and F. 1 have 
 no stop, while F. 2 reads folly passions, solemn tears, 
 Staunton proposed folly's 2^cssion. It is quite possible 
 that folly 2'assion miglit be equivalent to "paroxysm of 
 folly;" the meaning, however, is clear enough,— they 
 laughed till they cried. 
 
 176. Line 122: Their purpose is to PARLE.— This verb is 
 here used in the simple sense of "to talk," not in the 
 special sense of " to parley" with an enemy. So in Tho 
 Gentlemen of Verona, i. 2. 5 : 
 
 yidia. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen 
 
 That every day with paile encounter me. 
 
 Where the substantive taule is used for conversation. 
 
 177. Line 155: So shall we stay, mocking, intended 
 game. — This line is usually printed — 
 
 So shall we stay, mockiiij; intended i;aine ; 
 
 but is not tlie sense, "So shall we stop, by our mocking, 
 their intended game or sport?" The next line seems to 
 indicate that this is the right way of "stopping" the 
 passage, for it furnishes a complete contrast: 
 
 And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. 
 
 178. Line 159: Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.— 
 Tliis line, given to Biron by Qq. and Ff., was rightly 
 assigned to Boyet by Theobald. Line 165, "True, out 
 indeed," is given to Biron by F. 2, F. 3, F. 4; but to Boyet 
 by Qq. and F. 1. Again, lines 170, 171 are given by the 
 same last three folios to Biron; l)y Qq. and F. 1 to Boyet. 
 It seems clear that it is inconsistent with the part Biron is 
 pl-iying, for him to ridicule the speech of :Motli--which 
 probably he had himself composed— at the same time 
 that he endeavours, so honestly, to correct his mistakes. 
 
 66 
 
 179. Line 209: but vouchsafe.— Q. 1, do but vouchsafe: 
 Q. 2 and Ff. vouchsafe but. We prefer the reading of Q. 1, 
 omitting the do; the accent being always on tlie second 
 syllable in following lines; while if we read vouchsafe but, 
 it necessitates the accent being on the first syllable. 
 
 180. Line 233: «'o»<.— This word has no connection with 
 wort, i.e. any kind of herb; it means "new beer." 
 
 181 Line 237: griev'st.—F. 1 reads griev'st, Q. 1 griev- 
 cst ; one of the instances of the superior correctness of 
 K. 1 in some points. The Cambridge Edd. take no notice 
 of the difference between the two copies, though f^n'cw.sY 
 quite spoils tlie metre. 
 
 182. Line 247: Veal, (jii<,th the Dutch)nan. — Jhe same 
 joke occurs in the Wisdome of Dr. Dodypoll, ii. 2. 
 
 Doctor. Hans, my very speciall friend; fait and trot me be right glad 
 for see you reale. 
 !l,iiis. What, do you make a Calfc of me, M. Doctor? 
 
 — Bullen's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. no. 
 
 183. Line 2G1 : Fleeter than arroics, wind, thought, 
 swifter things. — In Qq. and Ff. bullets is inserted between 
 arrows and wind, thereby spoiling the metre of the line. 
 Capell first proposed to omit it, in which course he was 
 followed by other editors. 
 
 184. Line 208: Wcll-liking.'-CompareJiAixwix. 4: "Their 
 young ones are in good liking." Cotgr.ive gives, under 
 liking: "good-liking, embonpoint, poteU e," which latter he 
 translates "fulncsse or plumpiness of jlesh." Florio gives 
 "good-liking, buon gradiniento." Liking = condition of 
 body, is u.sed by Shakespeare in Merry Wives, ii. 1. 57 : 
 
 Mrs. Ford. ... I shall think the worse of fat men as long as I h.ivc 
 an eye to make difference of men's liking. 
 
 185. Line 209: kingly-poor.— Ynx kingly-poor Staunton 
 reads poor-liking, with great ingenuity— a most probable 
 emendation, if emendation be needed. Grant Wliite says 
 that tlie Princess refers to the King's speech, "Farewell, 
 mad wenches; you have simple Mits" (v. 2. -204). Kingly 
 might be used as an intensitive, to signify, in this instance, 
 very poor, but I can find no instance of the word ever 
 being used by .Shakespeare in such a manner. In Q(i. 
 and Ff. it is written Kingly poor in two words; the capital 
 A' would seem to settle the question. 
 
 186. Line 2S1 : statute-caps.— These were flat caps of 
 wool, worn by the citizens of London on Sabbath-days 
 and holidays, according to a protective statute issued by 
 Queen Elizalieth to encourage the trade of the cappers. 
 In The Family of Love, by iliddleton, v. 3, we find, "Why, 
 'tis a law enacted, by the common council of stutute- 
 caps" (Works, vol. ii. p. 192). 
 
 187. Line 290: theirDxyixsK's sweet commixture shown. 
 —Damask is applied by Shakespeare to the cheek, in three 
 passages besides this: in Twelfth Night, ii. 4. 115; in 
 Coriolanus, ii. 1. 232; and in the following passage in 
 As You Like It, iii. 5. 120-123, where Phcebe is describing 
 Rosalind as a b(jy: — 
 
 There was a pretty redness in his lip. 
 
 A little riper and more lusty red 
 
 Than that mix dm his cheek; 'twas just the difference 
 
 Betwixt the constant red and mingled damask. 
 
 Here we have almost the same expression as in the text.
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABJUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 188. Line 297: Are angels vailing clouds, dice. -—To vail 
 is the same as ¥renc\\ avaler or avaller {h. ad, to, vallis, 
 a valley), as Cotgrave spells it, one meaning of wliicli he 
 gives as "to let /aU down," evidently the sense of vail 
 here ; so in Fairfax: " The virgin gan her beavoir vale" 
 (Godfrey of Boulogne, book xiii. st. 4Sj. 
 
 189. Line 315: This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease. 
 — Ff. and Q. 2 read piclces; Q. 1 pecks, which is the more 
 characteristii; word. Shakespeare has taken these lines 
 almost word for word from an old proverb: 
 
 Children pick up words as pigeons peas 
 And litter tliem again as God shall please. 
 
 190. Line 324: kiss'd away his hand.— So Ff. and Q. 2. 
 Tlie reading of Q. 1 is kissed his hand away. 
 
 191. Line 332: ivhalds.—The Saxou genitive case, pro- 
 nounced as a dissyllable. To print it whale's is an error. 
 Compare Greene's Radagon in Dianam: 
 
 Legs as white as ichaWs bone 
 
 So white and chaste were never none. 
 
 — Works, p. 302. 
 
 192. Line 338: liiac/ wau.— Most modern editions have 
 
 Till this man show'd tliee? and what art thou now? 
 
 reading man, instead of mad man, for the sake of the 
 metre. In the old copies the line stands: 
 
 Till this madman show'd thee? and what art thou now? 
 
 In Q. 1 we have it printed as two words, mad man. Pos- 
 sibly the original word may have been maid-man, i.e. "a 
 man half a maid or woman," alluding to Boyet's finicking 
 manners as described above. The aJid should be omitted, 
 as it is not wanted, and may have slipped up from the 
 line below tjuite as easily, if not more so, than the Mad- 
 of Madam. 
 
 193. Line 346: Xor God, nor I, delights in perjur'd men 
 — Rowe altered delights, the reading of Q(i. and Ff., to 
 delight. God Ijeing the "worthier" person, the reading 
 might be defended, even on grounds of grainmar. If we 
 read, Nor God delights, nor I, we should get rid of the 
 awkwardness altogether. 
 
 194. Line 3G1 : A ilKSS of lUtssians.See note 12S (iv. 
 3. 207). 
 
 195. Line 419: Write, "Lord have mercy on vs." This 
 was the inscription put upon the doors of the houses in- 
 fected with the plague. Slalone quotes from Sir Thomas 
 Overliury's Characters, 1032: "Lord have mercy on ns 
 may well stand, for debt is a most dangerous city ;)e.s-/i;- 
 lence." At line 423 Biron says he sees the "Lord's tokens" 
 on the lady, a metaphor also taken from the plague, the 
 tokens of which "are the first spot, or discoloration, by 
 which the infection is known to be received." 
 
 196. Line 440: FORCE not to forswear.— In Like Will to 
 Like (1568) we find an instance of this use of to force = 
 to care: 
 
 aVcw. Then who shall hold my stirrup, while I ^o to horse? 
 L:i. Tush, for that do thou not force < 
 Leap lip I say, leap up quickly. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. iii. p. 356. 
 
 197. Line 465: That smiles his cheek in years.— Q.l reads 
 yeeres, on the ground of which Malone supports Theo- 
 bald's conjecture, jeers. But JIalone is wrong in saying 
 
 that the old copies read yeeres, for F. 1 has yeares dis- 
 tinctly. The expression in the text is explained, smiles 
 his clieek into years, i.e. wrinkles. Compare Twelfth 
 Night, iii. 2. 84, " he doth smile his cheek into more lines 
 than is in the new map with the augmentation of the 
 Indies." 
 
 198. Line 474: by tit' sqnicr (or squire).— Ho in Winter's 
 Tale, iv. 4. 348, " Xot the worst of the three but jumps 
 twelve foot and a half by the squire." In the latter pas- 
 sage it is spelt sqnire; in this passage both Q. 1 and F. 1 
 have squier. The expression in the text is equivalent to 
 our common saying, "he has got the length of her foot." 
 
 199. Line 488: For every one pvrsents </(rec. — Shake- 
 sjjeare certainly seems to have got into some confusion 
 with this pageant of the Nine Worthies. First he intro- 
 duces Hercules and Pompey, who had no business among 
 the worthies at all ; then he makes out eleven worthies, 
 for three of the players were to lepresent three worthies 
 each, besides Costard and Moth, who were content with 
 one character each. Perhaps the confusion is intentional, 
 and meant to ridicule the clumsy and ignorant way in 
 which those pageants were got up among the village 
 celebrities of Shakespeare's time. 
 
 200. Line 490: You cannot BEG us, su-.— The practice of 
 begging the wardship of idiots, in order to get hold of 
 their property, is constantly alluded to in the old drama- 
 tists. It was a valuable piece of patronage among the 
 many in the king's gift; and greedy courtiers eagerly 
 sought to obtain such precious cJiargee. It was an early 
 form of the Private Lunatic Asylum abuse, on a limited 
 scale. 
 
 201. Lines 518, 519: 
 
 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents 
 Dies in the zeal of that which it presents. 
 The various emendations which have been made on this 
 passage are almost innumerable. Let us try and see 
 what Shakespeare means to say, and whether the words 
 in the text express that meaning. The Princess says, in 
 answer to the o))jection that the show will be a very bad 
 one, in fact worse than the efforts of the royal amateur 
 company that had just now appeareil as "a mess of 
 Russians" — 
 
 That sport best pleases that doth Uusi know how. 
 
 (Q. 1 reads best for least, but Ff. and Q. 2 read least, un- 
 doubtedly the right reading.) She continues, "Where 
 zeal does its best to content the audience, and the con- 
 tents (i.e. the meaning of the representation) dies in the 
 zeal of that (i.e. that medium or instrument) which pre- 
 sents it (the contents or meaning)." This, certainly, is a 
 chnnsy sentence ; but it is intelligible, accepting the 
 strained and artificial style in which so many of tliese 
 speeches are written. It may be that the error, if there 
 be one, lies in the second zeal, which was the result of 
 the same word, in the former line, catching the printer's 
 eye. However we interpret the passage, it must be con- 
 fessed that it is by no means a bad description of amateur 
 performances of all kinds; in which zeal (to distinguish 
 themselves) siriws to content the people who have paid 
 their money; and the meaning of tlie play represented 
 67
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 dies (for the time at least) in the seal of the amateur 
 company which prenents it. 
 
 232. Line 52S: lie s}}eaks not like a man of God's mak- 
 1)1(7 —This line cannot fail to recall Hamlet's expression, 
 in his speech to the players, "I have thought some of 
 Nature's journeymen liaii made men, and not made them 
 well; they imitated Immauity so abominably" (iii. 2. 37- 
 39). 
 
 203. Line 547: Abate a throw at novim.— Tliis game of 
 dice, according to Douce, was "properly called novum 
 quinque, from the two principal throws of the dice, nine 
 and five." Tlie French name was quinque nove, which, 
 according to Nares, Prevost describes as "un jeu qui se 
 joue ^deuxd^s," and which is further explained by a pas- 
 sage in Deklier's Bell-men of London (1640), "The principal 
 use of langrets is at novum; for so long as a payre of bard 
 cater treas be walking, so long can you cast neither 5 nor 
 9— for without cater treay 5 or 9 you can never come." 
 
 204. Line 548: Cannot PHICK out five such.—Pi-ickoxU, 
 so Ff. and Q. 2. Picke out, Q. 1. The expression prick 
 out is much more characteristic. An instance of the use 
 of the term, in this sense, is found in "pricking for the 
 ollice of sheriff." Tlie specific use of the word is exempli- 
 fied in Julius Caesar, ii. 1. 216 : 
 
 Will you hefrick'd m number of our friends? 
 
 205. Line 551: W'lf/i LIBBARD's /lead on Arnee. — The libbard 
 w.as tlie male of the "panther," according to Steevens; it 
 is an old form of "leopard," and is used by Spenser. The 
 leopard's head was used, commonly, for ornamenting 
 armour at the joint.s. 
 
 206. Line 556: with targe and shield.— Tarye, Anglo- 
 Saxon, targ. A word common to French, Italian, and 
 Spanisli; thus described by Cotgrave, "targe, a kind of 
 sliield, almost square, and much in use along the Spanish 
 coast lying over against Affrick, from whence it seems 
 the fashion of it came." It was made of animals' hides. 
 
 207. Line 5S0: your lion, that holds his poll-axe.— Tot 
 an explanation of this description see the illustration of 
 the arms of Alexander, as given by Douce from the Roman 
 des neuf preux, Abbeville, 14S7, folio (Douce, p. 150). 
 
 208. Line 614: A cittern-head. — A cittern, or gittern, 
 was a kind of guitar. They were kept in barbers' shops 
 for the customers to play on who were waiting their turn. 
 (See a picture in Brandt's Emblems.) The heads were 
 carved in various fantastic shapes, and often in that of a 
 man's face. In Marston's Scourge of Villanie we find: 
 
 Shall brainlesse cyterne-hgads, eacli jobernole, 
 Pocket the very genius of thy soule? 
 
 — Works, vol. iii. pajje 242. 
 
 209. Line 616: A Death's face in a ring. — We may note 
 tliat rings with death's heads engraved on them were 
 commonly worn by bawds. See Marston's Dutch Courte- 
 san, i. 2. " As for their death how can it be bad, since their 
 wickednesse is always before tlieir eyes, and a deathe's 
 head most commonly on their middle finger?" (Works, 
 vol. ii. p. 118). 
 
 210. Line 639: Hector was but a Troyan.—yVe preserve 
 
 68 
 
 the old spelling as given in all the old copies. Trojan, 
 as Steevens notes, was a cant term for thief. The form 
 Troyan is very common in tlie works of tlie old drama- 
 tists. 
 
 211. Line 652: .1 gilt nutmeg.— 9.o Ff. ana Q 2; but Q. 1 
 has a "gift nutmeg." In Ben Jonson's Masque of the 
 Metamorpliosed Gipsies, I find: 
 
 Mfg-- And I have lost an inchanted inilmeir. nil s^ilded n'tr, was 
 inchantod at Oxford for me, to put in my sweet-heart's ale a'niomin(js. 
 — Works, vol. vii. p. 404. 
 
 Walnuts are gilded, nowadays, and hung on to Christ- 
 mas trees as presents. Oranges or lemons, stuck with 
 cloves, were used to hang in wine vessels. (See Steevens 
 note.) Allusion to an orange stuck with cloves is made in 
 Jonson's Masque of Cliristmas. 
 
 212. Line 659: A man so breath'd.— Compare As You 
 Like It, i. 2. 230, in the wrestling scene: 
 
 Duke. No more, no more. 
 
 Orlando, 'i'es, I beseech your grace ; I am not yet well breath'd. 
 
 The meaning of the word so breath'd in the text is 
 equivalent to our modern expression, "in such good 
 wind." We often hear it said of a runner at athletic 
 meetings that he "has not got his second wind," which 
 is much the same as saying " he is not breathed." 
 
 213. Line 707: Master, let me take you a buttun-hoh: 
 lower. — Tliere may be some play upon words intended 
 here. In Peele's Edward 1. there is a passage in which a 
 very similar phrase is used: 
 
 Mortimer. O, friar, you grow choleric ; well you'll have 
 No man to court your mistress, but yourself. 
 On my wor<l, I'll take you down a button-hole. 
 
 —Works, p. 395. 
 
 214. Line 717: ivoohrard. i.e. with the wool next the 
 skin. Fisher, in his Seven Psalms (Ps. cxliii. part ii. ), speaks 
 of St. Paul, "ill cold going ivoolward." 
 
 215. Line 747: A heavy heart bears nut a humble 
 tongue. —So Qq. ami Ff .,but Theobald, most unnecessarily, 
 altered humble to 7iimble. The Princess means to say 
 that when your heart is heavy, your tongue is not apt to 
 find polite words in which to acknowledge a great benefit. 
 She is excusing herself for not thanking tlie King suf- 
 ficiently for having granted her suit about Aquitaine and 
 Its ransom (see ii. 1. 159-169), on which occasion she would 
 like to use courteous phrases. Compare: 
 
 Ourself will mingle with society 
 And play the humble host. 
 
 — Macbeth, iii. 4. 4. 
 
 And in this very scene (line 636), "This is not generous, 
 not gentle, not humble." 
 
 216. Line 750: The Extreme part of time, <fcc.— Tliis is a 
 very difficult passage. The old copies read. The extreme 
 PARTS of time. We have adopted Dyce's reading, part, in 
 preference to altering /ocnis into/o)')«, wliicli would also 
 necessitate substituting decide for decides (in line 752)— 
 a necessity which all the commentators who adopt form 
 have overlooked. Staunton, very plausibly, suggests dart, 
 observing tliat tlie expression "at his very loose," is one 
 taken from archery. Every one has lieard of the darts, 
 or arrows, of Deatli and of Love; Ijut Time is always 
 represented with no other equipment but wings, a
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 scythe, ami an hour-glass. Moreover, the dart of Time 
 coukl scarcely Vie said to/o/-»i anything. Singer conjec- 
 tures haste, which is good sense enough. I would suggest 
 pace, but do not venture to embody it in the text. It 
 seems to me that the expression Time's pace is the most 
 natural expression. We have it in As You Like It, in the 
 well-known speech of Rosalind: "Time's pace is so hard 
 tliat it seems the length of seven year" (iii. 2. 234). 
 There is a sense in which part is used by Shakespeare 
 more than once -that of an action or general conduct 
 (see II. Henry IV. iv. 5. 64): 
 
 This/rtr/ of his conjoins with my disease, 
 
 in which the king refers to Prince Henry's conduct, or 
 action, in taking the crown away. If part has that mean- 
 ing here, the sense is pretty clear — the extreme action of 
 Time, using extreme in the sense of severe. An interest- 
 ing attempt to explain this passage by Dr. Brinsley 
 Nicholson will be found in the Xew Shak Soc. Transac- 
 tions, 1874, part ii. p. 513. 
 
 217. Line 762: my griefs hear dully.— Qq. and Ff. read 
 «jt' double. This is Staunton's conjecture, which, if the 
 text is to be amended at all, seems preferable to Collier's 
 are dull, as Biron says in the next line— 
 
 Honest plain words best pierce the ears of grief, 
 
 which makes Staunton's reading, hear, more plausible 
 than are; while dully preserves the double ending, and it 
 is used l)y Shakespeare in Sonnet L. 6 ; Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona, i, 1. 7; and Much Ado, ii. 1. 379. 
 
 218. Line 773: F^dl of stray shapes.— Qq. and Ff. read 
 strayiiKj. Capell conjectures stranye. Coleridge first 
 suggested stray, which is nearer the old reading than 
 strange, much more forcible, and corresponds more with 
 the sense of the following lines. 
 
 219. Line 792: this in our respects.— Eamwer'a conjec- 
 ture. Q. 1, this our. Ff. Q. 2 these are our. 
 
 220. Line 796: We did not QfOTE them so. —The old 
 copies read cote, but in this instance quote, from French 
 coter, "to mark," "to set down," is evidently intended; 
 and not cote from costoyer. 
 
 221. Line 826. -The following six lines are omitted from 
 the text, as being evidently only a rough draft of lines 
 S50-8U3 of the same act: — 
 
 Biioii. And what to me, my love? and what to nie? 
 
 Jios. You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd, 
 You are attaint with faults and perjury: 
 Therefore if you my favour mean to get, 
 A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, 
 But seek the weary beds of people sick. 
 
 222. Line 800: for my love.—Q. 1 reads thy, evidently a 
 
 misprint from the thy in the line above having caught the 
 printer's eye. "For my love" means "for my love (to 
 perform)." 
 
 223 Line 874: HE.Ul groans. — Johnson wanted to read 
 here dere, i.e. sad. But there are many uses of the word 
 in this sense. Compare Julius Cassar, iii. 1. 196: 
 
 Shall it not grieve thee dearey than thy death, 
 To see tliy Antony making his peace, 
 Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes. 
 
 224. Line 875: conh'rme THEM.— Qq. and Ff. read then; 
 Collier them, which seems to be the right reading. The 
 absolute use of continue here seems hardly tenable. 
 Shakespeare constantly uses the verb in its transitive 
 sense, governing an accusative and not an infinitive : 
 continue then is very weak. 
 
 225. Lines 905, 906: 
 
 And lady-smocks all silver white, 
 And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue. 
 
 It is not so easy to determine exactly what flowers are 
 meant here. Prior, in Popular Names of British Plants, 
 says, "Lady's smock is the Cardamine prate7isis, so called 
 from the resemblance of its white flowers to little smocks 
 hung out to dry, as they used to be once a year, at that 
 season of the year especially." To this custom Shake- 
 speare alludes below (line 916). Unfortunately for this 
 explanation, the flowers of Cardamine pratensis are 
 rarely, if ever, white; but, as a rule, lilac, more or less 
 deeply coloured. Those of Cardamine amara, bitter- 
 cress, are yellowish white. There can be no doubt, how- 
 ever, that the popular name of Cardamine pratensis is 
 lady-smock. The name cuckoo-floiver is also given to 
 Cardamine pratensis, but was formerly given to Lychnis 
 fios-cuculi, or Ragged Robin, the flowers of which are 
 pink or rose-colour. But cuckoo-buds here mean the buds 
 of the crowfoot, or lianuncidus {auricom^ts ?). 
 
 226. Lines 928-930. -We have adhered to the way in 
 which these three lines are printed in F. 1. Tu-whit to- 
 who was probably repeated by the singers. 
 
 227. Line 939: While greasy Joan doth keel the pot — 
 There appears to be a difference of opinion about the 
 exact meaning of keel. Most authorities derive to keel 
 from A. Sax. celan, to cool. In Gower and Chaucer it is 
 undoubtedly used simply for to cool. It appears to have 
 been a constant practice in Scotland to take a ivheen—a 
 quantity of broth out of the pot and to fill it up with cold 
 water. This was called the keeling wheen (see Steevens' 
 note). In some passages to keel seems to mean to scum 
 the pot in order to keep it from boiling over. 
 
 m
 
 WORDS PECULIAR TO LUVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 OTE — Tlie aiUlition of sub., adj.. verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates tliat tlie word is 
 used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 
 The compound words marked with an asterisk (•) are printed as two separate words in Q. 1 and F. 1. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Abbreviated . . v. 1 20 
 
 Abliominal)le>. v. 1 20 
 
 Abrogate iv, 2 55 
 
 Academe - . ., .,.., 
 
 (_ IV. :i 3o2 
 
 , , ( iii. 1 67 
 
 Acute -. . 
 
 (. IV. 2 73 
 
 Adjunct- (sub.) iv. 3 314 
 
 Afureliand v. 2 461 
 
 All-telling .... ii. 1 21 
 
 ,„ . ( iv. 2 42 
 
 Allusion - . 
 
 ( IV. 2 4o 
 
 Alms-basket .. v. 1 41 
 
 Amazes (sub.).. ii, 1 240 
 
 *Amber-coloured iv. 3 S8 
 
 Apostrophas. . . iv. 2 123 
 
 Arteries 3 iv. 3 300 
 
 .•\rts-man v. 1 85 
 
 Audaciously 1.. v. 2 104 
 
 Bookmates .... iv. 1 102 
 
 Book-men -J ."' ^ ""' 
 
 L IV. 2 35 
 
 Bowler v. 2 587 
 
 Brooding (verb) v. 2 033 
 
 *Button-liole.. v. 2 706 
 
 Cadence iv. 2 126 
 
 Canary (verb)., iii. 1 13 
 
 Canzonet iv, 2 124 
 
 Carnation (adj.) iii. 1 146 
 
 Carry-tale'.... v. 2 403 
 
 Charge-house.. v. 1 87 
 
 *Cittern-head.. v. 2 014 
 
 Cloves V. 2 654 
 
 Cockled iv. 3 338 
 
 Colourable .... iv. 2 156 
 
 , iv. 3 134 
 
 Compile « - v. 2 52 
 
 i V. 2 806 
 
 Congratulate .. v. 1 03 
 
 1 i o ]4 
 
 Congruent - ' " 
 
 ( V. 1 07 
 
 Consonant v. 1 55 
 
 Coppice iv. 1 
 
 *Copy-book v. 2 42 
 
 1 /I bomtnaftJe occurs frequently 
 in Shakeppcare. 
 
 - Occurs in .Sonnet cxxii. 13. 
 
 3 .4 rteri/ in singular occurs once 
 in Hamlet, i. 4. 82— 
 "" .Vnd makes each petty artery in 
 this botly." 
 
 ■• Occurs in I.ucrece, 1223. 
 
 5 Occurs in Venus and Adonis, 
 ■857. 
 
 <> Occurs iu Sonnet Ixxviii. 9. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 *Corner-cap , . . iv. 3 53 
 
 Couplenieiit '. , v. 2 535 
 
 Cuckoo-bud..,. V. 2 906 
 
 Curious-knotted i, 1 240 
 
 •Daughter-beamed V. 2 171 
 
 Day-woman ... i. 2 136 
 
 Deuce-ace i. 2 49 
 
 Dismasked v. 2 206 
 
 Dominical .... v. 2 44 
 
 Doter iv. 3 260 
 
 Eagle-siglited.. iv. 3 226 
 
 Ebon-coloured i. 1 245 
 
 Educate ** v. 1 86 
 
 Egnia'-i iii. 1 73 
 
 Elegancy iv, 2 12(i 
 
 Encounters Ki.. v. 2 82 
 
 Enfreedoming. iii. 1 125 
 
 Explication . . . iv. 2 14 
 
 Expositor ii. 1 72 
 
 Fairing v. 2 2 
 
 Fanatical v. 1 20 
 
 Feminine iv. 2 83 
 
 Festinately .. . . iii. 1 6 
 
 Folio i. 2 192 
 
 Forage (sub,)., iv. 1 93 
 
 Fructify iv. 2 30 
 
 *Giant-dwarf .. iii. 1 182 
 
 / iv. 3 107 
 
 Gig -'v. 1 70 
 
 ( V. 1 73 
 
 Gingerbread. , . v. 1 75 
 
 Glassed ii. 1 244 
 
 Glozes(sub.) .. iv. 3 370 
 
 Greasily iv. 1 139 
 
 Hackney iii. 1 33 
 
 Harper v. 2 405 
 
 Health-giving.. i. 1 230 
 
 Heart-ljurniiig \ j ^ ^g^ 
 
 (adj.) t 
 
 Hedge-priest . . v. 2 545 
 
 Honey-tongued v. 2 334 
 
 H(U'n-book v. 1 49 
 
 Hospital V. 2 881 
 
 *Humble-visaged ii. 1 34 
 
 " Used here="a couple." Oc- 
 curs in Sonnet xxi. 5 in the sense 
 of "combination." 
 
 8 Ediicatiun used in eight pas- 
 sages; the verb occurs nowhere 
 else in Shakespeare. 
 
 3 Enigma occurs in Coriolanus, 
 ii. :!. il(i—" Coc. Your enigma?" 
 
 K' Used for cucounterers. 
 
 70 
 
 Illustrate 11, 
 
 Imperatori- 
 Impudency . 
 
 Incony 
 
 Act Sc. 
 ( iv. 1 
 
 ■( V. 
 
 111. 
 
 V. 
 
 (iii. 
 
 liv. 
 
 Tndubitate . . . 
 Infamonize... 
 lusanie 
 
 lusociable . . . 
 
 Intimation . . , 
 Intituled 
 
 ( V. 
 ( V. 
 
 ( V. 
 
 Jerks (sub.) . , 
 
 Keeli- (vcrli). 
 *Kingly-poor , 
 
 Lady-smocks , . v. 
 
 Lemon v. 
 
 L'envoy n iii. 
 
 Lettered v. 
 
 Libbardis v. 
 
 *Longduriiig .. iv. 
 
 Love-monger .. ii. 
 
 Love-rhymes . . iii. 
 
 Maculate 
 
 Magnificent,. 
 
 ( 1. 
 \ iii. 
 
 Malmsey v. 
 
 Manorh<iu.se ,. i. 
 
 Measurable,... v. 
 
 Meekly i. 
 
 Mellowing (su)).) iv. 
 
 Merriness i. 
 
 Mirth-moving.. ii. 
 
 Muiiil)le-ne\vs.. v, 
 
 Mustachio r. 
 
 New-devised . . i. 
 
 New-sad v. 
 
 Night-watch, . . iii. 
 
 Novum KS V. 
 
 Line 
 
 65 
 
 128 
 
 187 
 
 5 
 
 136 
 
 144 
 
 07 
 
 684 
 
 28 
 
 20 
 
 809 
 
 13 
 
 2 930 
 2 939 
 2 260 
 
 905 
 
 653 
 72 
 48 
 
 551 
 
 307 
 
 253 
 
 183 
 
 07 
 193 
 180 
 233 
 209 
 
 97 
 190 
 
 72 1 
 202 
 
 71 
 464 
 111 
 
 2 05 
 
 2 741 
 
 1 178 
 
 2 547 
 
 11 Used as an adjective iu both 
 pas.sages. The verb occurs once 
 only, iu Henry VIII. iii. 2. 181. 
 
 12 Used here as if it were an 
 anglicized word— "Sole imiierattir 
 and great general of trotting 
 'pari tors." 
 
 K The substantive keel, in its or- 
 dinary sense, occurs three times. 
 
 14 Used as an anglicized word: 
 occurs frequently in this scene. 
 
 15 Leopard occurs three times. 
 If' A game played with dice. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Oaten v. 2 913 
 
 Oergone ■? v. 2 196 
 
 O'erparted v. 2 588 
 
 Over-boldly ... v. 2 744 
 
 Overglance iv. 2 135 
 
 Overhead iv. 3 281 
 
 Over-view iv. 3 175 
 
 'Paritor iii. 1 188 
 
 Parle (verb) . . v. 2 122 
 
 Parti-coated. . . v. 2 770 
 
 Pedautical v. 2 408 
 
 I'enthouse-like iii. 1 IS 
 
 Peregrinate (a<lj.) v. 1 15 
 
 Perjure (sulj.). iv. 3 47 
 
 I'ertauiit likei" v. 2 67 
 
 I'hantasiiiie ( - \ iv. 1 101 
 
 Phantasm) . . » v. 1 20 
 
 Pigeon-egg v. 1 78 
 
 Pitch-balls iii. 1 199 
 
 Please-maii v. 2 463 
 
 Plodders i. 1 S(i 
 
 Plodding (sub.) iv. 3 305 
 
 Plough (sub.).. V. 2 893 
 
 Poll-axe V. 2 580 
 
 Poinewater .. . . iv. 2 4 
 
 Pommel (suli.). v. 2 618 
 
 Poreio .; *• 1 '•* 
 
 ( iv. 3 298 
 
 (in plural) ( "■' ^ ^* 
 
 J v 1 Of! 
 
 Posterior ) ^- ^ ' 
 
 ( v. 1 127 
 
 Preambulate . . v. 1 85 
 
 Preyful iv. 2 58 
 
 Pricket^ iv. 2 12 
 
 Prodigally ii. 1 12 
 
 Progression... iv. 2 144 
 
 Push-pin iv. 3 169 
 
 Rackers v. 1 21 
 
 P>atherest iv. 2 19 
 
 Reject 21 v. 2 4.38 
 
 1" Used here in its literal sense 
 of To go a walk over. Overgone 
 =overpowercd is used III. Henry 
 VI. ii. 5. 12.3. OiJerpo=to exceed 
 occurs in Richard III. ii. 2. 61 and 
 Sonnet ciii. 7. 
 
 18 This is reading of the old 
 copies; most modern editors read 
 portent-like. See note 171. 
 
 19 Poring is used in Henry 
 V. iv. (chorus), 2, "the poring 
 dark;" a passage difficult to ex- 
 plain. 
 
 20 Occurs five other times in 
 this pccne. 
 
 21 Rcjeeteil occurs in Venus and 
 Adonis, 15».
 
 EMENDATIONS UN LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
 
 Scurrility 
 
 •Short-lived . 
 
 1 
 
 233 
 
 1 
 
 83 
 
 3 
 
 9!5 
 
 9 
 
 55 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 Repasture .... iv. 1 95 
 Reprobate (adj.) i. 2 64 
 
 *Sable-col(nired i. 
 
 Sain' iii. 
 
 Saucers iv. 
 
 ( iv. 
 
 \ V. 
 
 Sea-water- (adj.) i. 
 Self-sovereignty iv. 
 
 Seller iv. 
 
 Sequent 3 (sub.) iv. 
 Shame-proof . . v. 
 Shooter iv. 
 
 ( ii. 
 
 iiv. 
 
 Singuled •• v. 
 
 Slcilfully ii. 
 
 *Slow-gaited . . iii. 
 
 1 The usual form of the past par- 
 ticiple, said, occurs frequently. 
 
 2 As sub. in Tempest, i. 2. 462. 
 
 3 Used here = follower, atteii- 
 diuit; occurs several times as an 
 a<!j. 
 
 ■1 Ke;uling of Q. 1; Q. 2, Ff. 
 siiujteJ. 
 
 Act I 
 Small 5 (sub.)... v. 
 *Small-knowing i. 
 Siiuff " (verb)... iii. 
 
 Sonneting iv. 
 
 ( iv. 
 
 .Sore ' 
 
 Sorel 
 
 Siihin.v 
 
 Start' (in music) 
 
 Stanza 8 
 
 Staple^' 
 
 *Statute-cap . . 
 Strong-jointed. 
 
 Line 
 040 
 2.53 
 
 17 
 
 158 
 
 59 
 
 60 
 
 00 
 
 342 
 
 107 
 
 107 
 
 19 
 
 281 
 
 ° Used of the part of the leg 
 below the calf. 
 
 (> Used here with up; in Henry 
 VIII. iii. 2. 93 in the sense of "to 
 siu(/a wick." 
 
 " Jleaniny a buck of the fourth 
 year. 
 
 SBeadinf.' of F. 2, F. 3, F. 4; 
 stamii of y.l, Q. 2, F. 1; sianzo, 
 another form of the same word, 
 occurs in .Vs You Like It, ii. 6. 
 18. 19. 
 
 '-' Used as meaning thread or 
 pile. 
 
 
 
 .Vet Sc. 
 
 Lin- 
 
 'Sun-beamed 
 
 ;tw 
 
 ice) 
 
 V. ■ 
 
 > 165 
 
 Superscript.. 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 2 
 
 135 
 
 Supervise 10 ( 
 
 ver 
 
 i)iv 
 
 "2 
 
 124 
 
 Tasker 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 1 
 
 20 
 
 Tender-smell 
 
 ng 
 
 v. 
 
 2 
 
 569 
 
 Tliarboidugb 
 
 n 
 
 i. 
 
 1 
 
 1S5 
 
 I'liin-belly (a 
 
 Ij.) 
 
 iii. 
 
 1 
 
 20 
 
 riiree-headed.. 
 
 v. 
 
 2 
 
 503 
 
 Tittles 
 
 
 iv. 
 
 V. 
 
 1 
 2 
 
 S5 
 
 Tooth-drawe 
 
 
 622 
 
 Translation . . 
 
 
 v. 
 
 2 
 
 51 
 
 Trencber-kni 
 
 ^ht 
 
 V. 
 
 2 
 
 404 
 
 Treys 
 
 
 V. 
 
 2 
 
 232 
 
 Triuniviry . . 
 
 
 IV. 
 
 3 
 
 53 
 
 Tumbler .... 
 
 
 lu. 
 
 1 
 
 ]90 
 
 Unbetitting.. 
 
 
 V. 
 
 2 
 
 770 
 
 
 
 v. 
 iv. 
 iv. 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 141 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 Uneducated . 
 
 
 17 
 
 TJnseeming.. 
 
 
 ii. 
 
 1 
 
 156 
 
 w Used as a 
 
 suh 
 
 in 
 
 Hamlet, 
 
 V. 2. 23. 
 
 
 
 
 
 11 Third-horoi 
 
 ph. 
 
 jfwl 
 
 ich (/,«)■- 
 
 horuugh is onlj 
 
 am 
 
 ther 
 
 form, i.s 
 
 used in the Induction to Taming 
 
 of the Shrew, 1 
 
 12. 
 
 
 
 
 Unsullied v 
 
 Unvisited v 
 
 Uprising (sub.) iv 
 
 Vapour- vo w. . . iv 
 
 Veal V 
 
 Venewi2 v 
 
 Ventricle iv 
 
 \'erbosity v 
 
 Vicegerent .... i 
 
 Vow-fellows... ii 
 
 War-man v 
 
 Weeding (sub ) i 
 
 WeJl-knit i 
 
 Well-liking.... v 
 
 Wbitely iii 
 
 Wimpled iii 
 
 Woolward .... v 
 World-without- ^ 
 
 end (adj.) i 
 
 Wort 
 
 Line 
 352 
 
 358 
 2 
 
 70 
 
 247 
 
 02 
 
 70 
 
 IS 
 
 222 
 
 38 
 
 666 
 
 96 
 
 77 
 
 2CS 
 
 198 
 
 181 
 
 V. 2 717 
 
 v. 2 799 
 
 Vcliped . 
 
 1 
 
 i. 1 
 
 V. 2 
 
 242 
 002 
 
 1-2 Venew. Both Q.l and F.l 
 have vetiewe : in Merry Wives, i. 
 1. 211(1. we have veneys, which is 
 issentially the same word. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 
 
 In all cases where it appears that tlie same reading 
 adopted or suggested, in this edition, lias been adopted 
 or proposed by any other commentator, the name of that 
 commentator is given : but it is to be understood that 
 these emendations were all made, independently, by aid 
 of the text alone, and not copied, or in any way taken 
 from previous editions. 
 
 Note 
 37. ii. 1. 45. In arts tvcll fitted, glorious in arms. So 
 
 Grant White. 
 64. iii. 1. 73. no salve in THE,-;E all. 
 90. iv. 1. 146. Armador at TH' one side. 
 
 Kote 
 
 91. iv. 2. 3-8. SANGUIGNO, in blood. 
 
 96. iv. 2. 89. 0— piercing a hogahead. 
 100. i v. 2. 122. " That siKGY.TH heaven's praise." 
 
 121. iv. 3. 117. Thou for ifhoiii GliE.K'I Jove irould suear. 
 
 So Collier. 
 
 122. iv. 3. 142. One. Iter hair's gold; crystal the other's 
 
 eyes. 
 
 125. iv. 3. ISO. With nun, like men— of strange incon- 
 stancy. 
 
 160. v. 1. 133. myself— and this gallant gentleman. 
 
 177. V. 2. 155. So shall u-c stay, iliocking, intended game. 
 
 179. V. 2. 209. hut vouchsafe. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED. 
 
 Note 
 
 29. i. 2. 190. / shall TUNE sonnets. 
 33. ii. 1. 25. Therefore TO US IT SEEMS a needful course. 
 52. iii, 1. 3. Qvand Colinelle for " Cancel in el." 
 57. iii. 1. 25. Make thcni men of note— do you note? — 
 
 men that most are affected 7cith tliescl 
 94. iv. 2. 53. CALL'T, the deer the Princess killed, a 
 pricket. 
 
 171. V. 2. 67. {\) pertaunt-like, ov pertaunt-lye, to signify 
 "So, by taunts, as it were." 
 
 (2) pur-Tant, a term used in the game of " Post 
 and pare." 
 
 192. V. 2. 338. Till this MAID-MAN show'd thee? what ait 
 
 thou now? 
 
 193. V. 2. 346. Nor GoI) pei.IGJIT.'*, nor I. 
 216. V. 2. 750. The extreme ]'ACE vf time. 
 
 Tl
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEEOES. 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL.
 
 DEAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 SoLiNUs/ Duke of Ephesus. 
 
 ^^GEOX, a Merchant of Syracuse. 
 
 AxTiPiKiLUS of Ephesu.s,- ) Twin lirotliors, and sons to ^Egeon and ^Emilia, but 
 
 ANTiniOLUS of Syracuse,-* J nnkuown to each othei-. 
 
 Dromio of Ejjhesus, ) Twin brothers, and attendants on the two Anti^jholi, 
 
 Drojiio of Syracuse, ) unknown to each other. 
 
 Balthazar, a Merchant, ) „ .^ , 
 
 _ , , , of Ephesus. 
 
 Angelo, a Goldsmith, ) 
 
 First Merchant, friend to Antiphohis of Syracuse. 
 
 Second Merchant, a creditor of Ajigelo. 
 
 Pinch, a Schoolmaster and a Conjurer.* 
 
 An Officer. 
 
 Emilia, wife to ^Egeon, Latly Abbess of an Abbey near Ephesus. 
 Adriana, wife to Antijjholus of Ephesus. 
 LuciANA, her sister. 
 Luce, Servant to Adriana. 
 A Courtezan. 
 
 Gaoler, Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene — Ephesus. 
 
 Historical Period : about the third centurv b.c. 
 
 TIME OF ACTION. 
 
 The whole time of the dramatic action is comprised in one day ending about 5 p.m.^ 
 
 1 .Spelt in F. 2, by mistake, Salinus. 
 
 2 Spelt sometimes in Ff. Antipholix ; ))()tli names being 
 corrupted from Antipluhis, which is tlie correct spelling; 
 sometimes called in Ff. Antipholis SERKPTUS. 
 
 74 
 
 3 Sometimes called in Ff. AntipJwUx Erotes. 
 
 * A Conjurer, i.e. a person supposed to be able to exor- 
 cise evil spirits. 
 
 5 See Daniel's Time Analysis of Shakespeare's Tlaya 
 New. Sh. Soc. Transactions, 1877-0, part 2.
 
 THE COMEDY OF EBEOKS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 LITERARY HISTORY. 
 
 No edition of this play lias come down to 
 us previous to that of tbe First Folio, 1623, 
 There can be no doubt that this is one of 
 Shakesjieare's earliest works. It was founded 
 directly or indirectly on the Menpechmi of 
 I'lautus, of which an English translation by 
 " W. W." (William Warner) was published in 
 ir)95; but, like niany works of that period, it 
 had been, for some time previously, privately 
 circulated in manuscript. There is little in 
 iiimmon, except the bare outline of the plot, 
 l)etween Sliakespeare's play and the Men- 
 a'chmi of Plautus; while the fact that, in the 
 Folio of 1623, the two Antipholi are called in 
 .H-t i. AntijjhoHs Erotes,^ and, in act ii. Anti- 
 iJioHs Sereptus re.sjiectively, points to a con- 
 nection with some other original source than 
 W. W.'s translation; for, in the latter, the two 
 lirothers are called Menechmus the Citizen, 
 and Menechmus the Travailer respectively. 
 In Plautus they are termed Mencechtmcs and 
 Memech m us Sosidcs. The two titles, given to 
 the brothers in F. 1, only occur in the first two 
 acts, and are soon exchanged for those which 
 are preserved in all modern editions, Anti- 
 pholus of Syracuse (Erotes, Errotis), and An- 
 tipliolus of Ephesus (Sereptus). It has been 
 supposed that the two titles mentioned above 
 are corruptions of Erraticus and Surreptiis; but 
 one cannot fail to notice that the name of "the 
 Courtezan" in Plautus, is Erotion;'^ and Avho- 
 everwas the authorof the earlier adaptations of 
 Plautus' comedy, may have taken the name 
 Erotes or Errotis from this character. That 
 there was an earlier dramatic version of the 
 INIensechmi is probable from the fact, dis- 
 covered by Malone, that an old play, called 
 
 ' In act ii. called Errotis. 
 
 2 Called in the translation by W. W. Erotium. 
 
 The Histoi'ie of Error, was acted at Hampton 
 Court on New Year's day, 1566-7, by "the 
 children of Powles" (i.e. Paul's). It is possible 
 that this is the same play described in the 
 Accounts of the Eevels of Queen Elizabeth's 
 Court (from which the above entry is taken), 
 ;is " A Historic of Ferrar, shewed before her 
 Ma*'*' at Wyndesor, on Twelf daie at night, 
 enacted by the Lord Chamberleyne's .ser- 
 vaunts." The Comedy of Errors is men- 
 tioned by Meres in Palladis Tamia (1598); 
 and is alluded to by John Manningham in his 
 diary, under the date 2nfl February, 1601, 
 when he comjmres Twelfth Night to the "com- 
 medy of errores or Menechmi, in Plautus;" 
 also by Dekker in his Satiro-Mastix, though 
 this latter passage, as well as that in the same 
 author's, " A Knight's Coniuring done in ear- 
 nest: discouered in iest" (1607), may refer only 
 to the proverbial expression "a comedy of er- 
 rors." We find in Eobert Anton's Philoso- 
 pher's Satyrs (1616) the following lines: 
 
 What comedies of errors swell the stage 
 With your most publike vices, when the age 
 Dares personate in action, &c. 
 
 where the expression can scarcely be supposed 
 to refer to this ]>lay. 
 
 The only j^oints of resemblance — other than 
 those in the main plot — between Shakespeare's 
 Comedy of Errors and W. W.'s translation of 
 the MenaK'hmi are, first, the description given 
 by Antipholus of Syracuse, at the end of the 
 first act, of the inhabitants of Ejjhesus, which 
 resembles that given by Messenio of the inha- 
 bitants of Epidamnum (act ii. sc. 1, p. 11);^ 
 and, secondly, the use of the word stale, by the 
 wife of Menechmus the Citizen (act v. ji. 30) 
 and Adriana (act ii. 1. 101) respectively, and 
 
 3 The edition of W. W.'s Menechmi referred to is that 
 in Hazlitt's Shakespeare's Library, part ii. vol. i. 
 75
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 also uf the word stuf for haygaye which is 
 u.sed both by Messeiiio (act v. p. 37), and by 
 Antiphohis of Syracuse (iict iv. sc. 4, I. 153). 
 It won ill seem probable, then, that Shake- 
 speare had, at any rate, seen W. W.'s trans- 
 hxtion; and that, in the composition of his 
 play, he used that and some other English ver- 
 sion of the Mena^chnii. 
 
 Of internal evidence as to the date when 
 \\ritten, The Comedy of Errors does not afford 
 much. The allusion to Spain sending "whole 
 armadoes of carracks" would seem to show 
 that it was written while the memory of the 
 Spanish Ai-mada was fresh in men's minds. In 
 act iii. 2. 126, "armed and reverted, making 
 war against her heir," it has been supposed 
 that reference is made to the civil war in 
 France, between Henry III. and Heni-y of 
 Navarre. The latter became king in August, 
 l.")89, n])on the assassination of Henry III. by 
 Jacques Clement; but the war with the League 
 was not concluded till 1593. The reference to 
 Henry of Navarre as "the heir" could not 
 therefore be to a date later than August, 
 1589. Perhaps we cannot venture to fix the 
 exact date of the play, but we may safely con- 
 clude that it was completed between 1589 and 
 1592. It does not bear the same traces of 
 having been revised as Love's Labour 's Lost; 
 although the first poi'tion of the second scene 
 in act iii. (see note 7G) may be thought to bear 
 the traces of additional care and finish. 
 
 The name of the play was probably taken 
 by Shakesjjeare from the proverbial expres- 
 sion "a comedy of errors." We know he was 
 fond of taking his titles from proverbs, and 
 the last two lines of the argument in W. W.'s 
 translation of the Mentechmi, 
 
 Father, wife, neighbours, each mi-stakinji: either, 
 Much pleasant error, ere they meete togither, 
 
 may have guided him to this source for a 
 popular title. 
 
 STAGE HISTORY. 
 
 The first record of the performance of this 
 play is to be found in the Gesta Grayorum of 
 1594 (published in quarto, 1688). "After 
 such sport, a Comeily of Errors (like to Plau- 
 tus his Menechmus) was played by the players; 
 76 
 
 so that night was begun and continued to the 
 end, in nothing but confusion and errors; 
 whereupon it was ever afterwards called the 
 Night of Errors." The name given of the play, 
 and the fact that it was rejiresented, not by 
 amateurs, but by the "players," leave littlp 
 doubt that it was Shakesjjeare's comedy which 
 was referred to in this entry. Neither Hens- 
 lowe's nor Pepys' Diary contains any notice of 
 this play. The first mention in Genest is on 
 November 11, 1741, at Drury Lane — no re- 
 cord of the cast on that occasion remains, but 
 Macklin is said to have acted Dromio of Syra^ 
 cuse — when it was acted four times succes- 
 .^ively, and again on December 10th. This is 
 the only occasion on which the play was pre- 
 sented at Drury Lane until June 1st, 1824, 
 when Re^aiolds's operatic version was given. 
 But the i)lay called See if you Like it, or It 's 
 All a Mistake, de.scribed as a "comedy in two 
 acts, taken from Plautus and Shakesjjeare," 
 was represented at Covent Garden on October 
 9th, 1734. This, most probably, was a ver- 
 sion of The Comedy of Errors. Shakespeare's 
 play was represented for Hull's benefit on 
 April 24th, 1762, at Covent Garden; Shuter 
 and Miss Stephens being in the cast. It wiis 
 announced in the bills as " The Twins, or 
 Comedy of Errors, with a new Prologue by 
 Smith." On January 22d, 1779, The Comedy 
 of Errors "with alterations" made by Hull, 
 was again represented at Covent Garden, and 
 acted seven times; "Gentleman" Lewis play- 
 ing Antipholus of Syracuse. It seems next to 
 have been j^erformed on June 2nd, 1798, for 
 the benefit of Rees, who played Dromio of 
 Ej^hesus, " in imitation of the voice and man- 
 ner of Munden," the representative of Di'omio 
 of Syracuse. It was revived again, in 1808, 
 when Charles Kemble played Antipholus of 
 Ej^hesus; and Munden reappeared in his for- 
 mer character, which appears to have been a 
 favourite with him, as the play was again per- 
 formed, i)robably at his suggestion, on April 
 17th, 1811. On December 11th, 1819, an 
 abominably mangled and deformed version, 
 with the most ridiculously inappropriate songs 
 introduced, w;is represented at Covent Gar- 
 den; the cast including Farren, Liston, Miss 
 Stephens, and Miss M. Tree : it absolutely ran
 
 INTKODUCTION. 
 
 twenty-seven nights. For tins " literary mur- 
 der," as Genest calls it, Reynolds was resjjon- 
 sible. Miss Stephens seems to have been some- 
 what enamoured of the part of Adriana; for 
 she revived this version, for her benefit, on 
 June 1st, 1824, at Drury Lane. 
 
 Since that time the play has often been re- 
 presented, and would, probably, have been 
 repi'esented oftener, but for the difficulty of 
 finding two actors sufficiently resembling one 
 another, or able to make themselves up like 
 one another, for the parts of the two Di'omios 
 and the two Antipholi resijectively ; but, in 
 most of the later revivals of tliis play, all the 
 serious interest 'has been sacrificed, and the 
 two Dromios forced into unseemly promi- 
 nence. It is a jileasure, however, to refer to 
 the last revival in 1883 at the Strand Theatre, 
 imder the management of Mr. J. S. Clarke, 
 when due attention was paid to many of the 
 details of the piece, hitherto neglected on the 
 stage; and the costumes, especially, were care- 
 fully executed from designs by the Hon. Lewis 
 Wingfield. This revival met with a most gra- 
 tifying success. 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 The early work of most authors belongs to 
 one of three classes, the imitative, the satiri- 
 cal, or the egotistical. The Comedy of Errors 
 belongs to the imitative; but it is decidedly 
 superior to that particular play from which it 
 is adajjted, and, indeed, to most of that class 
 of comedy to which it belongs. It bears to 
 Shakesi^eare's other works very much the 
 same relation as Les Fourberies de Scapin 
 bears to Moliere's other plays. Some of the 
 comedies of Terence and Plautus may com- 
 pare, for variety of incident and ingenuity of 
 situation, with The Comedy of Eri'ors; but 
 the Mentechmi, from which Shakespeai-e un- 
 doubtedly took part of his play, is a very much 
 inferior work to the comedy before us. With 
 the exception of the long speeches of ^'Egeon, 
 which afford a necessary explanation of events 
 that occurred previously to those in the comedy 
 itself, it is difficult to see how even the in- 
 genuity of a modern French dramatic author 
 could have extracted more telling situations 
 out of the plot. In fact, as far as construc- 
 
 tion goes. The Comedy of Errors is one of 
 Shakespeare's best jjlays. With regard to 
 ^^geon's long speeches, there is nothing iu 
 them contrary to the canons of dramatic con- 
 struction existing in Shakes2:)eare's time. It 
 is to be presumed that actors, in his day, spoke 
 blank verse better than they do now; and 
 that the public were not so impatient of long 
 speeches as they are now. How much Shake- 
 speare owed to the old play, if there was one, 
 founded on the same subject, we do not know; 
 no copy of The Historic of Error, alluded to 
 above, has yet been discovered; but, as far as 
 the old translation of the Menajchmi goes, he 
 seems to have owed very little of the merit of 
 his jilay to that source. We shall probably 
 not be far wrong in crediting Shakespeare 
 with most of the many alterations for the 
 better, and of the valuable additions, which 
 separate The Comedy of Eirors by such a 
 wide distance from W. W.'s old translation: 
 the transference of the chief female interest 
 from the Courtezan to the wife, and the sym- 
 I^athetic character given to the latter, as well 
 as the creation of her charming sister, Luciana, 
 are all evidences of Shakespeare's genius, which 
 excelled that of the very noblest of his con- 
 temporaries, in nothing more strikingly than 
 in the creation of lovable female characters. 
 Although Luciana is but a slight sketch, she 
 is infinitely superior, in moral beauty, to any 
 of the female characters in Love's Labour's 
 Lost. The remarkable ingenuity with which 
 the intrigue is carried on, and the easy way in 
 which the various excellent situations sj)ring 
 from it, show what careful attention Shake- 
 speare had already bestowed upon the art of 
 dramatic construction, and how much he had 
 profited by his experience gained as an actor. 
 It is not imj^robable that we obtain in this 
 play some glimpse of Shakespeai'e's domestic 
 life. The piactical sermon preached by Lu- 
 ciana to Antipholus of Syracuse — under the 
 belief that he was her sister's husband, — and 
 the viAdd descrii^tion by the Abbess of a nag- 
 ging jealous wife (act v. sc. 1, lines 68-86) 
 may both have been based on Shakespeai'e's 
 actual experience; in the first case of his own 
 faults, in the second, of those of his wife. It 
 is very likely that, after he made Anne Hath- 
 77
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 awiiv liis wife, he was not (luite as attentive 
 and faithful to her as lie might have been; 
 and, on the other hand, that she, liy her jeal- 
 ousy and constant fault-tinding, drove him to 
 seek his fortune in London without the incu- 
 bus (if her couipauy.^ 
 
 1 Wlien this was written I had not read Mr. Furnivall's 
 admirable Introductiim to the Leopold Shakspere : for 
 Ins remarks on tliis point, whit-h are to the same effect as 
 my own, see p. xiii of that Introduction. The subject of 
 Shakespeare's relati<pns with his wife will be treated of 
 more at leny:th liereafter. 
 
 78 
 
 Anyone who may take the trouble to read 
 carefully the more serious portions of this play 
 will meet with his reward. He will find that 
 the farcical nature of the ))lot has not ilebarrcd 
 ShakespeiU-e from displaying in this work some 
 of his highest qualities. Many may think the 
 promise is greater than the i)erf ormance ; but 
 none can honestly deny the evidence of that 
 genius, which at a later jjcriod of his career 
 gave to the world such comedies as The Mer- 
 chant of Venice, Twelfth Night, and As You 
 Like It.
 
 V\ \ - \^ 
 
 ^ge. O, let me say no more : Gather the sequel Ijy that weut before. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEEOKS. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ScEXE I. A hall in the Dukes fulace. 
 
 Eidiji- Duke, .Egeon, (Jaoh'r, (Jjfircrs, ami 
 other Attendants. 
 
 -K;je. Proceed, Soliiius, to procure my fall. 
 And by the doom of death end woes and all. 
 
 JJi'le. Mercliant of Syracusa, plead no more; 
 I am not partial to infringe our laws : 
 , Q The enmity and discord, which of late 
 , Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your 
 '/ duke 
 
 /To merchants, our well-dealing countrjonen, — 
 / Wlio, wanting gilders^ to redeem their lives, 
 ^Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their 
 ' bloods, — 
 
 - Excludes all pity from our threatening looks. ] 
 For, since the mortal and intestine jars ii 
 
 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, 
 It hath in solemn synods been decreed, 
 Both by the Syraousians and ourselves, 
 To admit no traffic to our adverse towns : 
 
 ' Gilders, properly a coin = our florin, value Is. 8d. ; 
 here used, generally, for money. 
 
 Nay, more, if any born at Ejihesus 
 
 Be seen at Syracusian marts and fairs ; 
 
 Again, if any Syracusian born 
 
 Come to the bay of Eijhesus, he dies, 20 
 
 His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose. 
 
 Unless a thousand marks be levied. 
 
 To quit the penalty and ransom him. 
 
 Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, 
 
 Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ; 
 
 Therefore by law thou art condemn'd to die. 
 
 ^(/e. Yet this my comfort: when your 
 words are done, 
 My woes end likewise with the evening sun. 
 
 Di(h\ Well, Syracusian, say in brief the 
 cause 
 Wliy thou departed'st from thy native home, so 
 And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. 
 
 uSffe. A heavier task could not have been 
 impos'd 
 Than I to speak my griefs unsjieakable: 
 Yet, that the world may witness that my 
 
 end 
 Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, 
 I '11 utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 
 79
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEKORS. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 In Syracusa was I bom, and wed 37 
 
 Unto a woman, hajjpy but for me. 
 And by me too, had not oui' hap been bad. 
 With her I liVd in joy; our wealth increas'd 40 
 By prosperous voyages I often made 
 To Epidaniium ; till my factor's death, 
 And the great care of goods at random left, 
 Drew me from kind embracements of my 
 
 spouse : 
 From whom my absence was not six months 
 
 old 
 Before herself — almost at fainting under 
 The pleasing jmnishment that women bear — 
 Had made provision for her following me. 
 And soon and safe arrived where I was. 
 There had she not been long but she became 50 
 A joyful mother of two goodly sons; 
 And, which was strange, the one so like the 
 
 other 
 As could not be distinguish'd but by names. 
 That very hour, and in the self-same inn, 
 A meaner woman was delivered 
 Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: 
 Those, for their parents were exceeding jioor, 
 I bought, and brought u]! to attend my sons. 
 My wife, not meanly^ i)roud of two such boys. 
 Made daily motions for our home return: 60 
 Unwilling I agreed ; alas ! too soon 
 We came aboard. 
 
 A league from Epidamium had we sail'd. 
 Before the always wind-obeying deep 
 Gave any tragic instance of our harm : 
 But longer did we not retain much hojje; 
 For what obscured light the heavens did grant 
 Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
 A doubtful warrant of immediate death ; 
 )[]'Wliich though myself would glailly have 
 
 embrac'd, 70 
 
 > Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, 
 >Wee2iing before for what she saw must come, 
 >And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, 
 ^That mourn'd for fashion,^ ignorant what to 
 
 fear, 
 
 ("Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me. 
 
 'And this it was, for other means was none:] 
 The sailors sought for safety l>y our boat, 
 And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us : 
 My wife, more careful for the latter-born, 
 
 1 Xot meanly, no little. - For fashion, in imitation. 
 80 
 
 Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast, so 
 Such as seafaring men pi'ovide for storms ; 
 To him one of the other twins was bound, 
 Whilst I had been like heedful of the other: 
 The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I, 
 Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 
 Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ; 
 And floating straight, obedient to the stream. 
 Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. 
 At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, 
 Dispers'd those vapouis that offended us ; oo 
 And, by the benefit of his wish'd light. 
 The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
 Two shii)s from far making amain^ to us. 
 Of Corinth that, of Ei)idaunis this : 
 But ere they came, — O, let me say no more I 
 Gather the sequel by that went before. 
 
 Duke. Nay, forward, old man; do not break 
 
 off so; 
 For we may pity, thougli not pardon thee. 
 
 JEge. O, had the gods done so, I had not now 
 Worthily term'd them merciless to us ! lOO 
 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five 
 
 leagues. 
 We were encounter'd by a mighty rock ; 
 Which being -vnolently borne upon. 
 Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst ; 
 So that, in this unjust divorce of us, 
 Fortune had left to both of us alike 
 What to delight in, what to sorrow for. 
 Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burdened 
 With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe. 
 Was carried with more speed before the wind ; 
 And in our sight they three were taken up in 
 By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
 At length, another ship had seiz'd on us ; 
 And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, 
 Gave healtliful welcome to their shipwreck'd 
 
 guests ; 
 And would have reft the fishers of their \>re\', 
 Had not their bark been very slow of sail ; 
 And therefore homeward did they bend their 
 
 course. 
 Thus have y<ju heard me sever'd from my bliss, 
 That by misfoi'tunes was my life ])rolong'd, 120 
 To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. 
 
 I)vl-e. And, for the sake of them thou sor- 
 
 I'owest for, 
 
 2 Amain, directly.
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 Do me the favour to dilate at full 123 
 
 What hath befall'n of them and thee till now. 
 .Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest 
 care, 
 At eighteen years became inquisitive 
 After his brother : and importun'd me 
 That his attendant — for his case was like, 
 
 Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name 
 
 Might bear him company in the quest of him: 
 Whom whilst I labour'd of a' love to see, va\ 
 I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. 
 Five sum^mers have I spent in furthest Greece, 
 Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, 
 And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 
 Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought 
 Or that, or any place that harbours men. 
 But here must end the story of my life ; 
 And happy were I in my timely death, 
 Could all my travels warrant me they live, uo 
 Dul-e. Hapless .Egeon, whom the fates have 
 niark'd 
 To bear the extremity of dire mishaj) ! 
 [Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, 
 /Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, 
 ^ Which princes, would they, may not disannul, 
 jjMy soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
 >But, though thou art adjudged to the death, 
 ^And passed sentence may not be recall'd 
 But to our honour's great disparagement,] 
 Yet I will favour thee in what I can. 150 
 
 Therefore, merchant, I 'II limit thee this day 
 To seek thy life by beneficial help: 
 Try all the friends thou hast in Eijhesus ; 
 Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum. 
 And live ; if no, then thou art doom'd to die. 
 Gaoler, go take him to thy custody. 
 Gaol. I will, my lord. 
 
 ^ge. Hopeless and helpless doth .-Egeon 
 wend, 
 But to procrastinate his lifeless end. \^Excunt. 
 
 Scene II. Tho mirt. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Si/racuse, Dromio of 
 Syracuse, and First Merchant. 
 
 First Jfer. Therefore give out you are of 
 Epidamium, 
 Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
 This very day a Syracusian merchant 
 Is apprehended for arrival here; 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 And not being able to buy out his life, 5 
 
 According to the statute of the town. 
 Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. 
 There is your money that I had to keep. 
 Ant. >S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we 
 host,! 
 And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 10 
 Within this hour it will be dinner time : 
 Till that, I '11 view the manners of the town, 
 nPeruse^ the traders, gaze upon tlie buildings, ^ 
 And then return and sleep within mine inn, ' 
 For with long travel I am stiff and weary. ] 
 Get thee away. 
 
 ■Dro. >y. Many a man would take you at 
 your word. 
 And go indeed, having so good a mean. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. 6'. A trusty villain, sir, that very oft. 
 When I am dull with care and melancholy, 20 
 Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
 What, will you walk with me about the town, 
 And then go to my inn, and dine with me? 
 First J/er. I am invited, sir, to certain mer- 
 chants. 
 Of whom I hojie to make much benefit ; 
 I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock, 
 Please you, I '11 meet with you upon the mart. 
 And afterward consdrt^ you till bed-time: 
 My present business calls me from you now. 
 Ant. S. Farewell till then: I will go lose 
 myself ..,„ 
 
 And wander up and down to view the city. 
 First J/er. Sir, I commend you to your own 
 content. [js^it. 
 
 Ant. &'. He that commends me to mine own 
 content 
 Commends me to the thing I cannot get. 
 I to the world am like a drop of water, 
 That in the ocean seeks another drop, 
 Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
 Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself : 
 So I, to find a mother and a brother, 
 In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 40 
 Here comes the almanac of my true date. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
 
 What now? how chance thou art return 'd S(j 
 soon ? 
 
 1 Host, lodge. 
 
 '■' Consdi-t, accompany. 
 
 81 
 
 - Peruse, observe.
 
 ACT 1. Scone 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 J)ro. E. Retuni'd su soon ! rather ajiproacli'd 
 too late : 43 
 
 The capon burns, the pig falls from the sjiit, 
 The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; 
 My mistress made it one upon my cheek : 
 She is so hot because the meat is cold ; 
 The meat is cold because you come not home ; 
 You come not home because you have no 
 stomach ; 49 
 
 You have no stomach having broke your fast; 
 But we, that know what 't is to fast and pray. 
 Are penitent for your default to-day. 
 
 Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, 
 I pray: 
 Where have you left the money that I gave 
 you? 
 Dro. E. O, — sixpence, that I had •/ Wednes- 
 day last 
 To pay the saddler for my mistress' cruj)per: — 
 The saddler had it, sir ; I kept it not. 
 
 Ant. S. I am not in a sjjortive humour now: 
 Tell me, and dally not, where is the money i 
 We being strangers hei-e, how dar'st thou trust 
 So great a charge from thine own custody? (U 
 Dro. E. I pray you, jest, sir, as you sit at 
 dinner : 
 I from my mistress come to you in post;- 
 If I return, I shall be post' indeed. 
 For she will score your fault upon my i)ate. 
 Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your 
 
 clock 
 And strike you home without a messenger. 
 Ant. H. Come, Dro mi o, come, these jests are 
 out of season ; 
 Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. 
 Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee 1 70 
 Dro. E. To me, sir? "why, you gave no gold 
 
 to me. 
 A)xt. >S'. Come on, sir knave, have done your 
 foolishness, 
 And tell me how thou hast dispos'd thy charge. 
 Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from 
 the mart 
 Home to your house, the Pha-nix, sir, to 
 
 dinner: 
 My mistre.ss and her sister stays for you. 
 Ant. iS. Now, as I am a Christian, answer 
 me 
 
 In Avhat safe ])lace you have bestow'd my 
 money, ts 
 
 Or I shall break that merry science- of yours 
 
 1 P0.1I, n post to score notches on. 
 
 Ant, S, What, wilt thou flmit me thus unto my face? 
 
 That stands on tricks when I am uiidispos'd: so 
 Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of 
 me? 
 Dro. E. I have some marks of yours u])on 
 my pate. 
 Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders. 
 But not a thousand ma'iks between you both. 
 If I should i)ay your worshi]) those again. 
 Perchance you will not bear them patiently. 
 Ant. ,S. Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, 
 
 slave, ha.st thou? 
 Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress 
 at the Phoenix ; 
 She that doth fast till you come home to 
 
 dinner, 
 And jn-ays that you will hie you home to 
 diiun'i'. '•'" 
 
 A lit. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto 
 my face, 
 
 2 Sconce, head.
 
 ACT I. Sceue 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 ACT a. Scene 1. 
 
 Being forbid i Tliei'e, take you that, sir knave. 
 JJro. E. What mean you, sir ? for God's sake, 
 hold your hands ! 9:i 
 
 Nay, an you will not, sir, 1 11 take my heels. 
 
 \^Exit. 
 A nt. S. Ujjon my life, by some device or other 
 The villain is o'er-raught^ of all my money. 
 They say this town is full of cozenage. 
 
 As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, 
 Dark- working sorcerers that change the mind, 
 Soul-killing witches that deform the body, :oo 
 Di.sguised cheaters, prating mountebanks. 
 And many such like liberties of sin: 
 If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. 
 I '11 to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: 
 I greatly fear my money is not safe. lEadt. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Scene I. T/te house of A ntijj/io(>is of Eplicsus. 
 
 Enter Adriana and Luciana. 
 
 Adr. Neither my husband nor the slave re- 
 turn'd, 
 That in such haste I sent to seek his master! 
 Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. 
 Luc. Perhaps some merchant hath invited 
 him 
 And from the mart he 's somewhere gone to 
 
 dinner. 
 Good sister, let us dine and never fret: 
 A man is master of his liberty: 
 Time is their master, and wiien they see time 
 They'll go or come: if so, be patient, sister. 
 Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be 
 more? lo 
 
 Luc. Because their business still lies out o" 
 
 door. 
 Adr. Look, when I sei've him so, he takes 
 
 it ill. 
 Iaic. O, know he is the bridle of your will. 
 Adr. There 's none but asses will be bridled 
 
 so. 
 L^^c. Why, headstrong liljeily is lash'd with 
 woe. 
 There 's nothing situate under heaven's eye 
 But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: 
 The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls 
 Are their males' subjects and at their controls: 
 Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 20 
 Lords of the wide world and wild wateiy seas, 
 Indued with intellectual sense and .souls, 
 Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
 
 ' O'er-raught, over-reached, clieateil. 
 
 Are masters to their females, and their lords : 
 Then let your will attend on their accords. 
 ^1 dr. This servitude makes you to keep un- 
 wed. 
 Luc. Not this, but troubles of the mari'iage- 
 
 bed. 
 A dr. But, w' ere you wedded, you would bear 
 
 some sway. 
 Luc. Ere I learn love, I '11 practise to obey. 
 Adr. How if your husband start some other 
 where ? ?ii 
 
 Luc. Till he come home again, I would for- 
 bear. 
 Adr. Patience unmov'd ! no marvel though 
 she pause; 
 They can be meek that have no other cause. 
 ^ A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity. 
 We bid be quiet when we hear it cry ; 
 But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, ' 
 As much or more we should ourselves com- , 
 plain : ^ 
 
 So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee. 
 With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve 
 
 me;] 
 But, if thou live to see like right bereft, 40 
 This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. 
 Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try. 
 Here comes your man; now is your hu.slmnd 
 nigh. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Ej/kesus. 
 
 Adr. Say, is your tardy master now at hand? 
 Dro. E. Nay, he 's at two hands with me, 
 and that my two ears can witness. 
 
 Adr. Say, didst thou speak witli him ? 
 know'st thou his mind? 
 83
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERHOES. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind \ipon mine 
 ear: 40 
 
 Beshrew liis hand, I scarce could under.stiind 
 it. 
 Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst 
 not feel his meaning ? si 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly, I could 
 too well feel his blows; and withal so doubt- 
 fully, that I could scarce understand them. 
 
 Adr. But say, I prithee, is he coming home? 
 It seems he hath great care to please his wife. 
 Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is 
 horn-mad. 
 ; \_Adr. Horn-mad, thou \*illainl 
 
 Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; 
 
 But, sure, lie is stark mad. ] 
 When I desir'd him to come home to dinner, 
 He ask'd me for a thousand marks in 
 gold : 01 
 
 "'Tis dinner-time," (juoth I; "My gold!'"' 
 
 quoth he : 
 " Your meat doth burn," quoth I ; " My gold ! " 
 
 quoth he : 
 " Will you come home?" quoth I; " My gold!" 
 
 quoth he, 
 " ^^^lere is the thousand marks I gave thee, 
 
 villain?" 
 ^'The pig," quoth I, "is burn'd;" "My gold!" 
 
 quoth he: 
 "My mistress, sir," quoth I; "Hang up thy 
 
 mistress ! 
 I know not thy mistrc.ss; out on thy mis- 
 tress!" 
 Luc. Quoth who? 
 
 Dro. E. Quoth my master: TO 
 
 "I know," quoth he, "no house, no wife, no 
 
 mistress." 
 So that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
 I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; 
 For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 
 Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch 
 
 him home. 
 Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beaten 
 home ? 
 For God's sake, send .some other messenger. 
 xidr. Back, slave, or I Avill break thy pate 
 
 acros.s. 
 Dro. E. And he will bless that cross with 
 other beating : 
 Between you I shall have a holy head. so 
 
 84 
 
 Adr. Hence, i)rating pea.sant I fetch thy 
 
 master home. si 
 
 Dro. E. Am I so round with you as you 
 
 with me, 
 That like a football you do spurn me thus \ 
 You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me 
 
 hither: 
 If I last in this service, you must case me in 
 
 leather. \Exit. 
 
 Luc. Fie, how impatience loureth in your 
 
 face! 
 A\dr. His company must do his minions 
 
 grace, 
 Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
 Hath homely age th' alluring beauty took 
 From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: 
 Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? oi 
 \_\i volul)le and .sharp discoui'.se be marr'd, 
 Unkindne.ss blunts it more than marble hard: 
 Do their gay vestments his affections bait ? 
 That 's not my fault; he 's master of my state : ~\ > 
 What ruins are in me that can be found 
 By him not ruin'd ? then is he the ground 
 Of my defeatures.^ My decayed fair- 
 A sunny look of his would soon repair: 
 But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale loo 
 And feeds from home; i)Oor I am liut his 
 
 stale. ^ 
 Jjur. Self-harming jealousy! he, beat it 
 
 hence ! 
 Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs 
 
 dispense. 
 I know his eye doth homage otherwhere; 
 Or else what lets it but he would be here ? 
 Sister, you know he promis'd me a chain; 
 Q Would that* alone alone he would detain, 
 So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! 
 I see the jewel best enamelled 
 Will lose his beauty; and tho' gold bides; 
 
 still, 110^ 
 
 That others touch, yet often touching will ' 
 Wear gold : and so no man that hath a name, . 
 But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. ] ' 
 Since that my beauty cannot i)lease his eye, 
 I '11 weep what 's left away, and weeping die. 
 I^uc. How many fond fools serve mad jea- 
 
 lf)usy ! [E.veunt. 
 
 1 Defeatures, ill looks. 
 ■' Stale, pieteiuled wife. 
 
 2 Fair, beauty. 
 
 ■1 That, i.e. the chain.
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EERORS. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 Scene II. ^1 public place. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracitse. 
 
 Ant. S. The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up 
 Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave 
 Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. 
 By computation and mine host's repoi-t, 
 
 I could not sjjeak with Dromio since at first 
 I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 How now, sir ! is your merry humour alter'd ? 
 As you love strokes, so jest with me again. 
 You know no Centaur? you receiv'd no gold? 
 
 Adr. His company must do his minious grace. 
 Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. 
 
 Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? 
 
 My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, 
 
 That thus so madly thou didst answer me? 12 
 
 Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I 
 
 such a word? 
 Ant. S. Even now, even here, not half an 
 
 hour since. 
 Dro. S. I did not see you since you sent me 
 hence, 
 Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. 
 Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's 
 receipt. 
 And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner; 
 For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeas'd. 
 
 Dro. S. I am glad to see you in this merrj' vein : 2a 
 What means this jest ? I pray you, master, 
 tell me. 
 Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in 
 the teeth? 
 Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, 
 and that. [^Beating him. 
 
 Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake ! now your 
 jest is earnest: 
 Upon what bargain do you give it me? 
 
 Ant. S. Because that I familiarly sometimes 
 Do use you for my fool, and chat with you, 
 Your sauciness will jest upon my love. 
 And make a common of my serious hours. 
 85
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT ir. Scene 2. 
 
 When the sun shines let foolish gnats make 
 sport, 30 
 
 But cx'eep in crannies when he hides his beams. 
 If you will jest with me, know my aspect, 
 And fashion your demeanour to my looks, 
 Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 
 
 Dro. S. Sconce call you it? so you would 
 leave battering, I had rather have it a head: 
 an you use these blows long, I must get a 
 sconce for my head, and insconce it too; or else 
 I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, I 
 ])ray, sir, why am I beaten ? 40 
 
 .int. *S'. Dost thou not know? 
 
 Bro. S. Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. 
 
 Ant. S. Shall I tell you why? 
 
 Bro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore ; for they say 
 every why hath a wherefore. 
 
 Ant. S. Why, first, — for flouting me; and 
 then, wherefore, — 
 For urging it the second time to me. 
 
 Bro. ti'. Was there ever any man thus beaten 
 out of season, 
 When in the why and the wherefore is neither 
 
 rhyme nor reason ? 
 Well, sir, I thank you. r,o 
 
 Ant. >'. Thank me, sir! for what? 
 
 Bro. >S'. Marry, sir, for this something that 
 you gave me for nothing. 
 
 Ant. >S'. I '11 make you amends next, to give 
 you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it 
 dinner-time ? 
 
 Bro. S. No, sir: I think the meat wants that 
 I have. 
 
 Ant. >S. In good time, sir; what's that? 
 
 Bro. S'. Basting. 
 
 ^1/i^. S. Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. 60 
 
 Bro. S. If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it. 
 
 Ant. >S'. Your reason? 
 
 Bro. >S. Lest it make you choleric, and pur- 
 chase me another dry basting. 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time: 
 there 's a time for all things. 
 
 J[_Bro. S. 1 durst have denied that, before 
 you were so choleric. 
 
 Ant. S. By what rule, sir? 
 
 Bro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as ])lain as the 
 plain bald pate of father Time himself. 71 
 
 Ant. S. Let 's hear it. 
 
 Bro. iS. There's no time for a man to re- 
 cover his hair, that grows bald by nature. 
 86 
 
 Ant. S. May he not do it by tine and re-j! 
 covery ? n; ^ 
 
 Bro. S. Yes, to pay a fine for a ])eri\vig, and ', 
 recover the lost hair of another man. ; 
 
 Ant. S. Why is Time such a niggard of hair, 
 being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? 79 
 
 Bro. S. Because it is a blessing that he be- 
 stows on beasts ; and what he hath scanted 
 men in hair he hath given them in wit. 
 
 Ant. >S. Why, but there's many a man hath 
 more hair than wit. 
 
 Bro. >S'. Not a man of those but he hath the 
 wit to lose his hair. 
 
 Ant. /S'. Why, thou didst conclude hairy men 
 jjlain dealere without wit. 
 
 Bro. *S'. The jilainer dealer, the sooner lost: 
 yet he loseth it in a kind of policy. oo 
 
 A nt. S. For what reason ? 
 
 Bro. S. For two; and sound ones too. 
 
 Ant. >S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. 
 
 Bro. S. Sure ones then. 
 
 Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 
 
 Bro. S. Certain ones then. 
 
 Ant. >S. Name them. 
 
 Bro. ,S. The one, to save tlie money that he 
 spends in tyring; the other, that, at dinner, 
 they should not drop in his jjorridge. loo 
 
 Ant. >'>'. You would all this time have prov'd 
 there is no time for all things. 
 
 Bro. S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no ; 
 time to recover hair lost by nature. '■ 
 
 A nt. S. But your reason was not substantial, ' 
 why there is no time to recover. / 
 
 Bro. ,S. Thus I mend it: Time himself is 
 bald, and therefore, to the world's end, will 
 have bald followers. / 
 
 Ant. S. I knew 't would be a bald conclu- 
 sion:^ 110, 
 But, soft! who Avafts us' yonder? 
 
 * Enter Adriana and Luciana. 
 
 Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look .strange and 
 
 frown : 
 Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; 
 I am not Adriana nor thy wife. 
 The time was once when thou unurg'd wouldst 
 
 vow 
 That never words were music to thine ear, 
 
 1 Wafts «s, beckons to us.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EREORS. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 That never object pleasing in thine eye, 117 
 That never touch well welcome to thy hand, 
 That never meat .sweet-savour'd in thy taste, 
 Unles.s I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carv'd 
 
 to thee. 120 
 
 How comes it now, my husljand, O, how 
 
 conies it. 
 That thou art thus estranged from thyself? 
 Thyself I call it, being strange to me, 
 That, undividable, incorporate, 
 Am better than thy dear self's better jaart. 
 Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ! 
 QFor know, my love, as easy mayst thou fall* 
 A drop of water in the breaking gulf. 
 And take unmingled thence that drop again, 
 Without addition or diminishing, 130 
 
 As take from me thyself and not me too. 
 How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 
 Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious, 
 And that this body, conseci'ate to thee. 
 By ruffian lust should be contaminate ! 
 Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me. 
 And hurl the name of husband in my face. 
 And tear the stain'd skin off my hai'lot brow. 
 And from my false hand cut the wedding- 
 
 ' And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? 140 
 ;I know thou canst; and therefore see thou 
 :' do it. 
 
 /I am pos.sess'd with an adulterate blot; 
 • My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: 
 ' For if we two be one, and thou play false, 
 ; I do digest the poison of thy flesh, 
 ;^ Being strumpeted by thy contagion. 
 Keep then fair league and truce with thy true 
 
 bed; 
 ; I live unstain'd, thou undishonoured. ] 
 
 Ant. >S. Plead you to me, fair dame? I know 
 you not: 
 In Ephesus I am but two hours old, i.^o 
 
 As .strange unto your town as to your talk; 
 Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, 
 Wants wit in all one word to understand. 
 Luc. Fie, brother! how the world ischang'd 
 with you ! 
 When were you wont to use my sister thus ? 
 She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 
 Ant. >S'. By Dromio? 
 
 1 Fall, let fall. 
 
 JJro. *V. By me ? 
 
 Adr. By thee; and this thou didst return 
 from him. 
 That he did buff"et thee, and in his blows mo 
 Denied my house for his, me for his wife. 
 Ant. /S'. Did you converse, sir, with this 
 gentlewoman ? 
 What is the course and drift of your comjjact? 
 Bro. S. I, sir? I never saw her till this time. 
 Ant. &'. Villain, thou liest; for even her 
 very words 
 Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. 
 
 Bro. S. I nevei- sj^ake with her in all my 
 
 life. 
 Ant. S. How can she thus, then, call us by 
 our names, 
 Unless it be by inspiration ? 
 
 Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity 170 
 To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, 
 Aljetting him to thwart me in my mood I 
 Be it my wrong you are from me exemijt,^ 
 But wrong not that wrong with a more con- 
 tempt. 
 Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: 
 Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, 
 Whose weakness, mariied to thy stronger 
 
 state. 
 Makes me with thy strength to communicate: 
 If aught possess thee from me, it is dross. 
 Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; iso 
 
 Who, all for want of pnming, with intrusion 
 Infect thy saj) and live on thy confusion. 
 Ant. tS. To me she sjjeaks; she moves me for 
 her theme: 
 ^\niat, was I married to her in my dream? 
 Or sleej:) I now, and think I hear all this ? 
 What eXTor drives our eyes and ears amiss? 
 Until I know this sure uncertainty, 
 I '11 entertain the offer'd fallacy. 
 
 Luc. Dromio, go bid the servants spread for 
 
 dinner. 
 Bro. &'. O, f(jr my beads ! I cross me for a 
 sinner. 190 
 
 This is the fairy land: spite of spites! 
 We talk with goblins, owls and elvish sjn'ites: 
 If we obey them not, this will ensue, 
 They '11 suck our breath, or pinch us black and 
 blue. 
 
 - From me exempt, absent from my companj'. 
 
 87
 
 Al.'T II. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEEOES. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 Luc. Why jn-at'st thou ti) thyself iiiul an- 
 
 swer'st not? vx, 
 
 Dromio, thou drone, thou .snail, thou slug, 
 
 thou sot ! 
 Dro. A'. I am tran.sformud, master, am I 
 
 not? 
 Ant. S. I think thou art in mind, and so 
 
 am I. 
 Dro. S. Nay, master, both in mind and in 
 
 my shape. 
 Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. 
 Dro. >S'. No, I am an ape. 200 
 
 Ltic. If thou art ehang'd to aught, 't is to an 
 
 ass. 
 Dro. S. 'T is true; she rides me and I long 
 
 for grass. 
 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be 
 But I should know her as well as she knows 
 
 me. 
 Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, 
 
 To put the tinger in the eye and weep, 200 
 
 Whilst man and ma.stei' laugh my woes to 
 
 scorn. 
 Come, sir, to dinner. Droniio, kee]) the gate. 
 Husband, I '11 dine above with you to-day 
 And .shrive you of a thousanil idle pranks. 2111 
 Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, 
 Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter. 
 Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well. 
 
 Ant. >S'. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in 
 hell? 
 Sleej^ing or waking? mad or well-advis'd >. 
 Known nnto these, and to myself disguis'd I 
 I 'II say as they say, and j)ersever so. 
 And in this mist at all adventures go. 
 
 Dro. tS. Ma.ster, shall I be porter at the gate? 
 
 Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break 
 your pate. 220 
 
 Luc. Come, come, Antii)holus, we dine too 
 late. [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. liefore the house of Antipholus of 
 Ephtesus. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Ephesus, Dromio of 
 Ephesus, Angelo, and Balthazar. 
 
 Ant. E. Good Signior Angelo, you must ex- 
 cuse us all; 
 My wife is shrewisli when I keep not hours: 
 Say that I linger'd with you at your shop 
 To see the making of her carkanet,^ 
 And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 
 But here 's a villain that would face me down 
 He met me on the mait, and that I beat him. 
 And charg'd him witli a th(»usand marks in 
 
 gold, 
 And that I did deny my wife and house. 
 Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean 
 by this? 10 
 
 Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know 
 what I know; 
 That you beat me at the mart, I have your 
 hand to show: 
 
 1 Carkanet, necklace. 
 88 
 
 If the .skin were jjarchment and tlie blows you 
 gave were ink, i:; 
 
 Your own handwriting would tell you what I 
 think. 
 Ant. E. I think thou art an ass. 
 Dro. E. Marry, so it doth ai)i)ear 
 
 By the wrongs I .suffer and the blows I bear. 
 I should kick, being kick'il; and, being at that 
 
 pass, 
 You woidd keep from my heels, and beware 
 of an ass. 
 Ant. E. You 're sad, Signior Balthazar: jtray 
 God our cheer 
 May answer my good will and your good wel- 
 come here. 20 
 Dal. I hold your dainties chea]), sir, and 
 
 your welcome dear. 
 Ant. E. O, Signior Balthazai-, either at Hesh 
 or fish, 
 A table full of Avelcome makes scarce one 
 dainty di.sh. 
 BaL Good meat, sir, is connuon; that every 
 
 churl aftbrds. 
 ^Irit. E. And welcome more common; for 
 that 's nothint; but worils.
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 Bal. Small cheer and great welcome makes 
 
 a merry feast. 2ij 
 
 Ant. E. Ay to a niggardly host and more 
 
 sparing guest: 
 But though my cates be mean, take them in 
 
 good i^art; 
 Better cheer may you have, but not with 
 
 better heart. 
 But, soft ! my door is lock'd. Go bid them 
 
 let us in. yo 
 
 Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, 
 
 Gillian, Ginn! 
 Dro. >S'. [ Withi)i\ Mome,^ malt-horse,^ capon, 
 
 coxcomb, idiot, patch I ^ 
 Either get thee from the door, or sit down at 
 
 the hatch.* 
 Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou 
 
 call'st for such store. 
 When one is one too many ? Go get thee from 
 
 the door. 
 Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? 
 
 My master stays in the street. 
 Dro. tS. [ Within^ Let him walk from whence 
 
 he came, lest he catch cold on 's feet. 
 Ant. E. Who talks within there? ho, o])q\\ 
 
 the door! 
 Dro. S. [ Withi)i\ Eight, sir; I '11 tell you 
 
 Avhen, an you '11 tell me wherefore. 
 Ant. E. Wherefore? for my dinner: I have 
 
 not din'd to-day. 40 
 
 Dro. S. [ Withui] Nor to-day here you must 
 
 ncjt; come again when you may. 
 Ant. E. What art thou that keep'st me out 
 
 from the house I owe? 
 Dro. S. \_Within'\ The porter for this time, 
 
 sir, and my name is Dromio. 
 Dro. E. O villain! thou hast stolen both 
 
 mine office and my name. 
 The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle 
 
 blame. 
 If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place. 
 Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name 
 
 or thy name for a face. 
 Luce. [ Withhi] What acoiP is there! Dromio, 
 
 who are those at the gate? 
 Dro. E. Let my master in. Luce. 
 Luce. \_Within'\ Faith, no; he comes too late; 
 
 1 Home, buffoon. 
 
 3 Patch, fool. 
 
 5 Coil, disturbance. 
 
 2 Malt-horse, dray-horse. 
 * Hatch, wicket or half-door. 
 
 Q And so tell your master. ^ 
 
 Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh! '^ 
 
 Have at you with a proverb — Shall I set in ^ 
 
 my staif ? 51 ^ 
 
 Luce. [ Withvi] Have at you with another; '/ 
 
 that's— When? can you tell? ;! 
 
 Dro. (•'. Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb idiot, patch! 
 Eithei- get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. 
 
 Dro. S. [Within] If thy name be call'd Luce,' 
 
 — Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. > 
 
 Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you '11 ^j 
 
 let us in, I hope ? ; 
 
 Ltice. [ Within'] I thought to have ask'd you. ' 
 
 Dro. S. [ Within] And you said no. < 
 
 Dro. E. So, come, help: well struck! there | 
 
 was blow for blow. ] '- 
 
 Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. 
 
 89
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EREORS. 
 
 ACT III Scene 1. 
 
 Lace, \^yitl^ili\ Can yoii tell for whose 
 sake % 57 
 
 Dro. E. McOster, knoc-k the door hard. 
 Luce. \yi'ithi)\\ Let him knock till it ache. 
 Ant. E. You '11 cry for this, minion, if I beat 
 
 the door down. 
 Luce. [ ^yithi){\ What needs all that, and a 
 pair of stocks in the town? (lo 
 
 Adr. [U'li/^i/i] Who is that at the door that 
 
 keeps all this noise? 
 Dro. H. \^\it}dn'\ By my troth, your town is 
 
 troubled with unruly boys. 
 Ant. E. Are you there, wife? you might 
 
 have come before. 
 Adr. \}Vithi)i\ Your wife, sir knave! go get 
 
 you from the door. 
 Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this 
 
 "knave" would go sore. 
 Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: 
 
 we would fain have either. 
 Bal. In debating which was best, we shall 
 
 part^ with neither. 
 Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid 
 
 them welcome hither. 
 Ant. E. There is something in the wind, 
 
 that we cannot get in. 
 Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your 
 gannents were thin. 70 
 
 [^ Your cake is warm within; you stand here 
 
 ill the cold: 
 It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so 
 ' boutrht and sold. 
 
 I Ant. E. Go fetch me something: I'll break 
 ' ope the gate. 
 
 Dro. ,S. [ Wit/tin] Break any breaking here, 
 ' and I '11 break your knave's pate. 
 
 |J Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, 
 ^ sir, and words are but wind, 
 ;IAy, and break it in your face, so he break it 
 j not behind. 
 
 i Dro. S. [Within'] It seems thou want'st 
 I breaking: out upon thee, hind ! 
 
 Dro. E. Here's too much "out upon thee!" 
 
 I pray thee, let me in. 
 Dro. S. [Withi)i\ Ay, when fowls have no 
 
 feathers, and fish have no fin. 
 Ant. E. Well, I'll break in: go borrow me 
 a crow. 2 80 
 
 1 Part, depart, go away. 
 90 
 
 2 Crow, crowbar. 
 
 Dro. E. A crow without feather? Master, 
 mean you so ? si ' 
 
 For a fish without a fin, there 's a fowl without 
 
 a feather: 
 If a crow help us in, sirrah, we '11 pluck a crow 
 together. ] 
 Ant. E. Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron 
 
 crow. 
 Bal. Have ])atience, sir; O, let it not l)e sol 
 Hei'ein you war against your reputation, 
 And draw within the com]ja.ss of suspect 
 The unviolated honour of your wife. 
 Once this^ — your long experience of her wis- 
 dom, 
 Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 90 
 
 Plead on her part some cause to you unknown; 
 And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 
 Why at this time the doors are made* against 
 
 you. 
 Be rul'd by me: depai't in jiatience. 
 And let us to the Tiger all to dinner; 
 QAnd, about evening, come yourself, alone, 
 To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
 If by strong hand yoii offer to break in ', 
 
 Now in the stirring passage of the day, '/ 
 
 A vulgar comment will be made of it; lOO ', 
 
 And that suj^posed by the common rout 
 Against your yet ungalled estimation, ' 
 
 That may with foul intrusion enter in, / 
 
 And dwell upon your grave when you are'/ 
 dead ; ; 
 
 For slander lives upon succession, / 
 
 For ever hous'd where 't gets possession. ] ( 
 Ant. E. You have prevail'd : I will depart 
 in quiet. 
 And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 
 I know a wench of excellent discourse, 
 Pi-etty and witty, wild and yet, too, gentle : no 
 There will we dine. This woman that I mean. 
 My wife — but, I protest, without desert — 
 Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal : 
 To her will we to dinner. [To Ang.'] Get 
 
 you home 
 And fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made: 
 Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine;* 
 For there 's the house : that chain will I be- 
 stow — 
 
 3 Once this, think once for all on this. 
 
 •• Made, biu'red. 
 
 <> Porpentine, the old name for porcui)ine.
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE CXJMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 Be it fur nothing but to spite my wife — lis 
 Upon mine hostess there : good sir, make 
 
 haste. 
 Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 
 I '11 knock elsewhere, to see if they '11 disdain 
 
 me. 121 
 
 Anff. I'll meet you at that place some hour 
 
 hence. 
 Ant. E. Do so. This jest shall cost me some 
 
 expense. \Exeimt. 
 
 Scene II. TJw same. 
 
 Enter Luciana and Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 
 Luc. And may it be that you have quite 
 
 forgot 
 A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, 
 Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? 
 
 Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous? 
 If you did wed my sister for her wealth. 
 Then for her wealth's sake use her with 
 more kindness : 
 Or if you like elsewhere,^ do it by stealth; 
 Muffle your false love with some show of 
 blindness : 
 Let not my sister read it in your eye; 
 
 Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; 
 Look sweet, sjieak fair, become disloyalty; ii 
 
 Apjmrel vice like virtue's harbinger; 
 I; [[Bear a fair presence, though your heart be 
 '( tainted ; 
 
 < Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; 
 ". Be secret-false : what need she be acquainted ? 
 I "What simple thief brags of his own attaint ? 
 ('Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed 
 ; And let her read it in thy looks at board : 
 V Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; 
 ' 111 deeds are doubled with an evil word. ] 20 
 Alas, poor women ! make us but believe. 
 
 Being compact of credit, that you love us; 
 Though others have the arm, show us the 
 sleeve; 
 We in your motion turn, and you may move 
 us. 
 Then, gentle brother, get you in again; 
 
 Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 
 'T is holy sport to be a little vain,''' 
 
 I Like eUeivhere, i.e. are attached to another woman. 
 ^ Vain, insincere. 
 
 When tlie sweet breath of flattery conquers 
 
 strife. 2s 
 
 Ant. S. Sweet mistress, — what your name 
 
 is else, I know not, 
 Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine, — 
 Less in your knowledge and your grace you 
 
 show not .{i 
 
 Than our earth's wonder, more than earth 
 
 divine. 
 
 ri.illl/ -'.'I'l- 'M I 
 il ll/i > ' ' ' ■ 
 
 
 Aiit. S. Sweet mistress, — what j'our name is else, I know not. 
 
 Q Teach me, dear creature, how to think and 
 speak ; 
 Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, 
 Smother'd in errors, feeljle, shallow, weak. 
 
 The folded meaning of your word's deceit. 
 Against my soul's pure truth why labour you, 
 
 To make it wander in an unknown field ? 
 Are you a god? would you create me new? 
 Transform me then, and to your power I '11 
 yield. ] 40 
 
 But if that I am I, then well I know 
 
 Your weeping sister is no wife of mine. 
 Nor to her bed no homage do I owe : 
 91
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 Far more, far more to you do I decline.^ 44 
 O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, 
 
 To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears: 
 Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote : 
 
 Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs. 
 And as a bed I '11 take them, and there lie; 
 
 And, in that glorious supposition, think 50 
 He gains by death that hath such means to 
 die: 
 Let Love, being light, be drowned if she 
 
 sink ! 
 Luc. What, are you mad, that you do rea- 
 son so? 
 Ant. S. Not mad, but mated; how, I do not 
 
 know. 
 Luc. It is a fault that S2)ringeth from your 
 
 eye. 
 Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, 
 
 being by. 
 Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will 
 
 clear your sight. 
 A nt. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look 
 
 on night. 
 Luc. Why call you me love? call my sis- 
 ter so. 
 Ant. S. Thy sister's sister. 
 Luc. That 's my sister. 
 
 Ant. S. No; 60 
 
 It is thyself, mine own self's better part, 
 Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer 
 
 heart. 
 My food, my fortune, and my sweet hopc'c 
 
 aim, 
 My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. 
 Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. 
 Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am 
 thee. 
 Thee will I love and with thee lead my life: 
 Tuou hast no husl)and yet, nor I no wife. 63 
 Give me thy hand. 
 
 Luc. O, soft, sir ! hold you still : 
 
 I '11 fetch my sister, to get her good will. \_Exit. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 A nt. S. Why, how now, Dromio ! where 
 rumi'st thou so fast ? 
 
 Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dro- 
 mio? am I your man? am I myself? 
 
 1 Decline, lean, or am drawn, towards. 
 92 
 
 Ant. A'. Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, 
 thou art thyself. To 
 
 l>ro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, 
 and besides myself. 
 
 Ant. S. What woman's man? and how be- 
 sides thyself ? so 
 
 Dro. S. Many, sir, besides myself, I am due 
 to a woman ; one that claims me, one that 
 haunts me, one that will have me. 
 
 Q J«/. >S'. What claim lays she to thee? ) 
 
 J)ro. /S'. Marry, sir, such claim as you would; 
 lay to your horse; and she would have me us, 
 a beast: not that, I being a beast, she would - 
 have me; but that she, being a very beastly / 
 creature, lays claim to me. ] ^ 
 
 Ant. S. What is she? 90 
 
 Dro. >S. A veiy reverent body; ay, such a 
 one as a man may not speak of without he .say 
 " Sir-reverence." I have but lean luck in the 
 match, and yet is she a wondrous fat mar- 
 riage. 
 
 Ant. iS. How dost thou mean a fat mar- 
 riage ? 
 
 Dro. S. Marry, sir, she 's the kitchen wench, 
 and all grease; and I know not what use to 
 pvit her to, but to make a lamp of her, and 
 run from her by her own light. ^ I warrant, ') 
 her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a> 
 Poland winter : if she lives till doomsday, / 
 she '11 burn a week longer than the whole / 
 world. ^ 
 
 Ant. >S'. What comjJexion is she of? ' 
 
 Dro. S. Swart, like my shoe, but her face? 
 nothing like so clean kejst: for why, she sweats;^ 
 a man may go over shoes in the grime of it. I 
 
 Ant. S. That 's a fault that water will mend. ^ 
 
 Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood •J 
 could not do it. j 
 
 Ant. S. What's her name? iio^ 
 
 Dro. >S. Nell, sir; but her name and three ^i 
 quarters, that 's an ell and three quarters, will| 
 not measure her from hip to hip. ) 
 
 Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth? i 
 
 Dro. S. No longer from head to foot than; 
 from hip to hip: she is si)herical, like a globe;; 
 I could find out countries in her. / 
 
 Ant. A'. In what part of her body stands; 
 Ireland ? / 
 
 Dro. >S'. Marry, sir, in her Tnittocks: I found 
 it out by the bog.s. 121/
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EERORS. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 ( Ant. S. Where Scotland? 122 
 
 < J)ro. )S. I found it by the barrenness; hard 
 
 ' in the palm of the hand. 
 
 ;, Aiit. >S'. Where France? 
 
 ;; Bro. K In her forehead; arm'd and re- 
 
 ■' verted, making war against her heir. 
 
 A7it. ,S. Where England? 12s ; 
 
 Dro. ,S. I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I ^ 
 could find no whiteness in them; but I guess* 
 it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that / 
 ran between France and it. i 
 
 Ant. S. Where Sjmin? ] 
 
 .int. .b'. Why, how now, Dromio! where ninn'st thou so fast? 
 
 > Bro. ,S. Faith, I saw it not ; but I felt it hot 
 • in her breath. 
 
 > Ant. *S'. Where America, the Indies ? 
 
 I Dro. S. Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o'er em- 
 ^bellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, 
 ' declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of 
 , Spain; who sent whole armadoes of carracks^ 
 ,to be ballast at her nose. ui 
 
 J Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Nether- 
 elands? 
 
 ; Dro. ,S. Oh, sir, I did not look so low. ] To 
 conclude, tliis drudge, or diviner, laid claim to 
 me; called me Dromio; swore I was assur'd 
 
 1 Carracks, Spanish merchant-ships. 
 
 to her; told me what privy marks I had about 
 me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in 
 my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that 
 I amaz'd ran from her as a witch: 
 And, I think, if my brea.st had not been made 
 
 of faith, and my heart of steel, lao 
 
 She had transform'd me to a curtaP dog, and 
 
 made me turn i' the wheel. 
 Ant. S. Go hie thee j3re.sently, jiost to the 
 
 road : 
 And if the wind blow any way from shore, 
 I will not harbour in this town to-night: 
 If any bark put forth, come to the mart, 
 
 • Curtal, crop-tailed. 
 93
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 Where I will \v;ilk till thou ivturn to me. loi; 
 If every one knows us and we know none, 
 'T is time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone. 
 Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run 
 
 for Hfe, 
 So fly I from her that would be my wife. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Ant. S. There's none but witches do in- 
 
 liabit here; uu 
 
 And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. 
 She that doth call me husband, even my soul 
 Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, 
 Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace. 
 Of such enchanting presence and discourse. 
 Hath almost made me traitor to myself: 
 But, lest myself be guilty to self- wrong, 
 I '11 stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. 
 
 Enter Angelo with the chain. 
 
 Ang. Master Antipholus, — 
 
 Ant. S. Ay, that's my name. 170 
 
 Ang. I know it well, sir: lo, here is the 
 
 chain. 
 
 I thought to have ta'en you at the Pori^entine : 
 
 The chain unfinisli'd made me stay thus long. 
 
 .1;;/. /V. What is your will that I should do 
 
 with this? 174 
 
 Ang. What please' yourself, sir: I have nuule 
 
 it for you. 
 Ant. S. Made it for me, sir! I besi)()ke it 
 
 not. 
 Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times 
 you have. 
 Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; 
 And soon, at supiier-time, I '11 visit you. 
 And then receive my money for the chain, iso 
 Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money 
 now. 
 For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. 
 Ang. You are a merry man, sir: fare you 
 well. [Exit. 
 
 Ant. S. What I should think of this, I can- 
 not tell: 
 But this I think, there's no man is so vain- 
 That would refuse so fair an offer'd cliain. 
 I see a man here needs not live by shifts, 
 When in the streets he meets such golden 
 
 gifts. 
 I '11 to the mart, and there for Dromio stay : 
 If any shij) jnit out, then straight away. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. A puhlic place. 
 
 Enter Second Merchant, Angelo, and an 
 Officer. 
 
 Sec. Mer. You know since Pentecost the 
 
 sum is due. 
 And since I have not much importun'd you; 
 Nor now I had not, but that I am bound 
 To Persia, and want gilders for my voyage: 
 Therefore make pi'esent satisfaction. 
 Or I '11 attach you by this officer. 
 
 Ang. Even just the sum that I do owe to 
 
 you 
 Is growing to me l)y Anti})holus; 
 And in the instant that I met with you 
 He had of me a chain: at five o'clock 10 
 
 I shall receive the money for the same. 
 Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, 
 I will discharge my bond, and thank you too. 
 !)4 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio 
 of Ephesus from the Courtezan^ s. 
 
 Off. That labour may you save: see whei'e 
 he comes. H 
 
 Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house, 
 go thou 
 And buy a rope's end : that will I bestow 
 Among my wife and her confederates. 
 For locking me out of my doors by day. 
 But, soft! I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone; 
 Buy thou a rope and bring it home to me. 20 
 Dro. E. I buy a thousand i)ound a year! I 
 buy a rope! [Exit. 
 
 Ant. E. A man is well hoi]) uj* that trusts to 
 you: 
 I promised your presence and the chain; 
 But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. 
 
 1 Whnt jdeuse, wliat may plense. - Vain, foolish.
 
 ACT TV. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 Belike you thought our love would last too 
 
 long, 2.0 
 
 If it were ehain'd together, and therefore came 
 
 not. 
 
 Anff. Saving your merry humour, here '.s the 
 
 note 
 
 How much your chain weighs to the utmost 
 
 carat, 
 The finene.ss of the gold, and chargeful fashion, 
 Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 
 Than I stand debted to this gentleman : 3i 
 I iiray you, see him presently discharg'd, 
 For he is bound to sea and stays but for it. 
 Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the jiresent 
 money; 
 Besides, I have some business in the town. 
 Good signior, take the stranger to my house, 
 And with you take the chain, and liid my wife 
 Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof : 
 Perchance I will be there as soon as you. 
 Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her 
 yourself? 40 
 
 A nt. E. No ; bear it with you, lest 1 come 
 
 not time enough. 
 Ang. Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain 
 
 about you? 
 .Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you 
 have; 
 Or else you may return without your money. 
 Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me 
 the chain : 
 Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman. 
 And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 
 Ant. E. Good Lord I you use this dalliance 
 to excuse 
 Your 1)reach of piomise to the Porpentine. 
 T should have chid you for not bringing it, 5o 
 But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 
 tiac. Aler. The hour steals on ; I i)ray you, 
 
 sir, dispatch. 
 Ang. You hear how he im})6rtunes me; — 
 
 the chain ! 
 Ant. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch 
 
 your money. 
 Ang. Come, come, you know I gave it you 
 even now. 
 Either seiul the chain, or send me l)yi some 
 token. 
 
 1 Dy, with. 
 
 Ant. E. Fie, now you run this humour out 
 of breath. sr 
 
 Come, where 's the chain ? I pray you, let me 
 see it. 
 Sec. Mer. My business cannot brook this 
 dalliance. 
 Good sir, say whe'r you '11 answer me or no : go 
 If not, I '11 leave him to the officer. 
 
 Ant. E. I answer you I what should I answei' 
 
 you? 
 Ang. The money that you owe me foi' the 
 
 chain. 
 Ant. E. I owe you none till I receive the 
 
 chain. 
 A ng. You know I gave 't you half an hour 
 
 since. 
 Ant. E. You gave me none : you wrong me 
 
 mvich to say so. 
 Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: 
 Consider how it stands upon my credit. 
 
 Sec. Mer. Well, officer, arrest him at my 
 
 suit. 
 Off. I do ; 
 And charge you in the duke's name to obey 
 me. 70 
 
 Ang. This touches me in reputation. 
 Either consent to pay this sum for me. 
 Or I attach you by this officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never 
 had ! 
 Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 
 
 Ang. Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer. 
 I would not spare my brother in this case. 
 If he should scorn me so ajiparently.^ 
 
 Off'. I do arrest you, sir: you hear the suit. 
 Ant. E. I do obey thee till I give thee 
 bail. — . so 
 
 But, sirrah, you shall buy this sjjort as dear 
 As all the metal in your shojj will answer. 
 
 Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, 
 To your notorious shame, I douljt it not. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse, from tin- hay. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, there is a liai-k of Epi- 
 
 daniium. 
 That stays but till her owner comes aboard. 
 Then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage,^ 
 
 sir. 
 
 2 Apparently, openly. 
 
 3 Fraughtage. cai'go. 
 
 95
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EREOES. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 I have convey'd aboard ; and I have bought 
 The oil, the balsamuin, and aqua-vitae. 
 The sliij) is in her trim; tlie merry wind PO 
 Blows fair from land : they stay for nought 
 
 at all 
 But for their owner, master, and yourself. 
 Ant. K How now I a madman I Wliy, thou 
 peevish sheep, 
 Wliat ship of Epidamium sttys for me ? 
 I>ro. A'. A ship you sent me to, to hii'e 
 
 waftage.i 
 Anf. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for 
 a rope. 
 And told thee to what puri:)ose and what end. 
 Dro. S. You sent me, sir, for a rope's end 
 as soon: 
 You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. 
 Ant. E. I will debate this matter at moi'e 
 leisure, loo 
 
 And teach your ears to list me with more 
 
 heed. 
 To Adi'iana, villain, hie thee sti'aight: 
 Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk 
 That 's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry. 
 There is a i)urse of ducats; let her send it: 
 Tell her I am arrested in the stieet. 
 And that shall bail mc: iiie thee, slave, be 
 
 gone I 
 On, officer, to {)rison till it come. 
 
 \^Exeunt Hec. Merchant., Angela, 
 Officer, (Old Anf. E. 
 Dro. S. To Adrianal that is where we 
 din'd. 
 Where Dowsabel did claim me for her hus- 
 band : 110 
 She is too big, I lioj)e, for me to compass. 
 Thither I must, although against my will, 
 For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. Thehoxise of Antipholus of 
 Ephesus. 
 
 Enter Adriana and Luciaxa. 
 
 Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so ? 
 Might'st thou jjerceive austerely- in his eye 
 That he did j^lead in earnest? yea, or no? 
 
 > To hire ivaftage, to engage a vessel (see iii. 2. 155). 
 2 Austerely, surely, seriously. 
 96 
 
 Look'd he or red or jiale, or .sad or merry? 
 What observation niad'st thou, in this case, 
 Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face ? 6 
 Luc. First he denied you had in him no 
 
 right. 
 Adr. He meant he did me none; the more 
 
 my spite. 
 Luc. Then swore he that he was a stranger 
 
 here. 
 Adr. And true he swore, though yet for- 
 sworn he were. lo 
 Lu£. Then pleaded I for you. 
 Adr. And what said he? 
 L%ic. That love I begg'd for you he begg'd 
 
 of me. 
 Adr. With what jjersuasion did he tempt 
 
 thy love? 
 LiK. With words that in an honest suit 
 might move. 
 First he did praise my beauty, then my sjieech. 
 Adr. Didst sjjeak him fair? 
 Lxic. Have patience, I beseech. 
 
 Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; 
 My tongue, though not my heart, shall have 
 
 his will. 
 He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, 
 lU-fac'd, worse bodied, shapeless ever}T\-here ; 
 Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind, 21 
 Stigmatical'' in making, worse in mind. 
 
 Luc. Who would be jealous, then, of such 
 a one? 
 No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. 
 
 Adr. Ah, but I think him better than I say. 
 And yet would herein others' eyes were 
 worse. 
 Far from her nest the lapwing cries away: 
 My heart pi-ays for him, though my tongue 
 do curse. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Here ! go; the desk, the purse I 
 
 sweet, now, make haste. 
 Luc. How hast thou lost thy breath ? 
 Dro. ,S. By running fast. 30 
 
 Adr. Wliere is thy master, Dromio? is he 
 
 well? 
 Dro. >S'. No, he's in Tartar limljo, worse 
 
 than hell. 
 
 3 St((j)iiatical, niarkcil (by deformity).
 
 ^•\CT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 A devil in an everlasting garment^ hath him ; j The 23assages of alleys, creeks, and narrow 
 One whose hard heart is button'd up with j lauds; 
 
 steel ; 'i-i A hound that runs counter, and yet draws 
 
 A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ; 
 A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buflf; 
 A back-friend,2 a shoulder-clapper,-^ one that 
 countermands 
 
 dry-foot* well; 
 One that, before the judgment, carries poor 
 souls to hell. 40 
 
 Adr. Why, man, what is the matter? 
 
 Dro. S. Xo, he's in Tartar limbo, wor.^e than hell. 
 
 Dro. S. I do not know the matter : he is 
 
 'rested on the case. 42 
 
 Ach: What, is he arrested? Tell me at 
 
 whose suit. 
 Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is ar- 
 rested weU ; 
 But 'is in a suit of buff which 'rested him, 
 
 that can I tell. 
 Will you .send him, mistress, redemption, the 
 money in his desk ? 
 Adr. Go fetch it, sister. [Exit Luciana. 
 
 This I wonder at. 
 That he, unknown to me, shoidd be in debt. 
 
 1 Everlastiiit/ garment, the buff jerkin of the sheriff's 
 officer. 
 -Back- friend, secret enemy. ^Shoulder-clapper, bailiff. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Tell me, was he arrested on a band ?^ 
 
 Dro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger 
 thing ; 50 
 
 A chain, a chain: — do you not hear it ring? 
 Adr. What, the chain? 
 Dro. S. No, no, the bell : 't is time that I 
 were gone : 
 Q It was two ere I left him, and now the clock ; 
 strikes one. ' 
 
 Adr. The hours come back ! that did I 
 never hear. 
 
 * Drau'S dry-foot, luints by the scent of the footsteps 
 like a bloodhound. 
 
 5 Band, bond, but it also means "neckcloth," hence the 
 pun in next line. 
 
 97 7
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. ( 
 
 Dro. S. O, yes ; if ;uiy hour meet a sergeant, 
 \ a' turns back for very fear. oo 
 
 \ Adr. As if Time Avere in debt I how fondly 
 \ dost thou reason I 
 
 <■ Dro. S. Time is a veiy bankrupt, and owes^ 
 i more than he 's worth to season. 
 'Nay, he 's a thief too: have you not heard men 
 ( say, 
 
 ^Tliat Time comes .stealing on by night and 
 < day >. f'l' 
 
 'If Time be in debt and theft, and a sergeant 
 
 in the way, 
 ' Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a 
 
 day ? ] 
 
 Jiv-entcr LuciAXA idth a purse. 
 
 Adr. Go, Dromio; thei'e's the money, bear 
 it straight, 
 And bring thy master home immediately. 
 Come, sister : I am jness'd down with con- 
 ceit, — - 
 Conceit, my comfort and my injury. 
 
 [E.veimt. 
 
 Scene III. A public place. 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracuse. 
 
 Ant. S. There "s not a man I meet but doth 
 
 salute me 
 As if I were their well-acquainted friend; 
 And every one doth call me by my name. 
 Some tender money to me; some invite me; 
 Some other give me thanks for kindnes.ses; 
 Some oft'er me c(jnnnodities to buy: 
 Even now a tailoi' call'd me in his shop, 
 And show'd me silks that he had bought 
 
 for me, 
 And therewithal took measure of my body. 
 Sm-e, these are but imaginary wiles, lo 
 
 And Lapland sorcei'ers inhabit here. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, here "s the gold you sent 
 J me for. QWhat, have yon got the picture 
 ^of old Adam new-aj^parell'd ? 
 i Ant. S. What irold is this? what Adam dost 
 
 thou mean? 
 
 Dro. S. Not that Adam that kept the Para- 
 
 1 Owes, owus. 
 
 - Conceit, apprehension. 
 98 
 
 dise, but that Adam that keeps the prison: he 
 that goes in the calf's skin that was kill'd foi 
 the Prodigal ; he that came behind you, sir, 
 like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your 
 liberty. 20 
 
 Ant. S. I understand thee not. 
 
 Dro. S. No ? why, 't is a plain case : he that 
 went, like a bas.s-viol, in a case of leather ; the 
 man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives 
 them a fob and "rests them; he, sir, that takes 
 l)ity on decayed men, and gives them suits of 
 durance ; he that sets up his rest to do more 
 exploits with his mace than a morris-pike.-* 
 
 Ant. S. What I thou mean'st an officer? 
 
 Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ; 
 he that brings any man to answer it that 
 breaks his band ; one that thinks a man always 
 going to bed, and says " God give you good 
 rest:"^ yi 
 
 Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery.] 
 Is there any shiji puts forth to-night ? may we 
 be gone ? 
 
 Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word, an 
 hour since, that the bark Expedition put forth 
 to-night ; and then were you hinder'd by the 
 sergeant, to tarry for the hoy Delay. Here 
 are the angels^ that you sent foi' to deliver 
 you. 
 
 Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I; 
 And here we wander in illusions: 
 Some blessed power deliver us from hence I 
 
 Enter a Courtezan. 
 
 Cbur. Well met, well met, master Anti- 
 pholus. 
 I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now : 
 Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day? 
 
 A nt. S. Satan, avoid 1 I charge thee, tempt 
 me not. 
 
 Dro. S. Master, is this Mistress Satan? 
 
 Ant. S. It is the devil. 50 
 
 Dro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's 
 dam ; Q and here she comes in the habit of 
 a light wench : and thereof comes that the 
 wenches say " (Jod damn me ;" that 's as much 
 as to say " God make me a light wench." It 
 is written, they appear to men like angels of/ 
 
 3 Morris-pilce, Moorish pike. 
 
 •» Give yim good rest, a pun on rest and 'rest for arrest. 
 
 5 AiKjels, gold coins wortli about ten sliillings.
 
 ACT IV. Scene :'.. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 ' light : light is ;ui effect of fire, and fire will 
 <> burn ; ergo, light wenches will burn.] Come 
 not near her. 
 
 Cour. Your man and you are marvellous 
 
 merry, sir. 
 
 Will you go with me '. We '11 mend our dinner 
 
 here. co 
 
 Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect sjioon- 
 
 meat ; so bespeak a long sjioon. 
 Ant. S. Why, Dromio? 
 Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon 
 that must eat with the devil. 
 
 A at. S. Avoid thee, fiend I w^hat tell'st thou 
 me of supi)ing? 
 Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress : 
 I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. 
 
 Cour. Give me the ring of mine you liad at 
 dinner, 
 Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd, 70 
 And I '11 be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 Dro. S. Some devils ask but the parings of 
 one's nail, 
 A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a \nn, 
 A nut, a cherry-stone ; 
 
 But she, more covetous, would have a chain. 
 Master, be wise : and if you give it her, 
 The devil will shake her chain and fright us 
 with it. 
 Cour. I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the 
 chain : 
 I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. 
 Ant. S. Avaunt, thou witch 1 Come, Dromio, 
 let us go, 80 
 
 Dro. S. ''Fly pride," says the peacock: mis- 
 tress, that you know. 
 
 [Kveunt Ant. S. and Dro. <S'. 
 Cour. Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad. 
 Else would he never so demean himself. 
 A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats. 
 And for the same he promis'd me a chain : 
 Both one and other he denies me now. 
 The reason that I gather he is mad, 
 Besides this present instance of his rage. 
 Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner, 
 Of his owni doors being shut again.st his en- 
 trance. 90 
 Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits. 
 On pui'pose shut the doors against his way. 
 My way is now to hie home to his house, 
 And tell his wife that, being lunatic, 
 
 He rush'd into my house, and took perforce 
 My ring away. This course I fittest choose; 
 For forty ducats is too much to lose. [E.vit. 
 
 Scene IV. A street. 
 Enter Antipholus of Epkesus and the Officer. 
 
 Ant. E. Fear me not, man; I will not break 
 
 away : 
 I '11 give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, 
 To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. 
 My wife is in a wayward mood to-day. 
 And will not lightly trust the messenger. 
 That I should be attach'd in Ejjhesus: 
 I tell you, 't will sound harshly in her ears. 
 Here comes my man; I think he brings the 
 
 money. 
 
 Enter Dromio of Epkesus inth a rope\-end. 
 
 How now, sir! have you that I sent you for? 
 Dro. E. Here 's that, I warrant you, will pay 
 
 them all. lo 
 
 Ant. E. But where 's the money? 
 Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the 
 
 rope. 
 Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a 
 
 rope \ 
 Off. I '11 serve you, sir, five hundred at the 
 
 rate. 
 Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee 
 
 home ? 
 Dro. E. To a rojie's-end, sir; and to that end 
 
 am I returned. 
 Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome 
 
 you. \Beating him. 
 
 Off. Good sir, be patient. 20 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, 't is for me to be patient; I am 
 
 in adversity. 
 Off. Good, now, hold thy tongue. 
 Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold 
 his hands. 
 
 Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain! 
 Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I 
 might not feel your blows. 
 
 Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but 
 blows, and so is an ass. 
 
 Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed; you may prove 
 it by my long 'ears.^ I have served him from tlie 
 
 1 'Ears, years. A pun is intended. 
 99
 
 ACT I v. Scene 4. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EREOKS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4 
 
 hour of my nativity to tliis instant, and have 
 nothing at his hands for my service but blows. 
 Wlieu I am cold, he heats me with beating; 
 when I am warm, he cools me with beating: 
 I am wak'd with it when I sleep; i\ais'd with 
 it when I sit; driven out of doors with it when 
 I go from home; welcom'd home with it when 
 I return: nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a 
 beggar wont' her brat; and, I think, when he 
 hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door 
 to door. 42 
 
 Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming 
 yonder. 
 
 Enter Adriaxa, Lcciana, the Courtezax, 
 a)id Pinch. 
 
 Dro. E. Mistress, respice Jinem, respect 
 your end; or rather, to prophesy, like the jtai'- 
 rot, "beware the rt)pe'.s-end." 
 
 Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk? [Beating him. 
 Cour. How say you now? is not your hus- 
 band mad ? 
 Adr. His incivility confirms no less. 
 Gk)od Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; so 
 Esta])lish him in his true sense again. 
 And I will please you what you will tlemand. 
 Luc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he 
 
 looks ! 
 Cour. Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy! 
 Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel 
 
 your pulse. 
 Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel 
 your ear. [^Striking him. 
 
 Pinclu I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within 
 this man. 
 To yield possession to my holy prayers. 
 And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight: 
 I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven! m 
 Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am 
 
 not mad. 
 Adr. O, that thou wort not, poor distressed 
 
 soul! 
 Ant. E. You minion, you, are these your 
 customers ? 
 Did this companion'-^ with the saft'ron face 
 Revel and feast it at my house to-day. 
 Whilst upon me the guilty dooi's were shut. 
 And I denied to enter in my house ? 
 
 ' Wont, is accustomed (to lieai). 2 Covipaniim, fellow, 
 100 
 
 Adr. O husband, God dcjth know you din'd 
 
 at home; 
 Where would you had remain'd until this time, 
 Free from these slanders and this open shame! 
 Ant. E. I din'd at home I Thou villain, wliat 
 
 say est thou? ri 
 
 Dro. E. Sir, sooth to sav, you did not dine 
 
 at home. 
 Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd uj), and 
 
 I shut out ? 
 Dro. E. Perdie, your doors were lock'd, and 
 
 you shut out. 
 Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me 
 
 there ? 
 Dro. E. Sans fable, she herself revil'd you 
 
 there. 
 Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, 
 
 taunt, and scorn me ? 
 Dro. E. Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal 
 
 scorn'd you. 
 A nt. E. And did not I in rage depart from 
 
 thence ? 
 Dro. E. In verity you did; my bones bear 
 
 witness, so 
 
 That since have felt the vigour of his rage. 
 Adr. Is't good to soothe him in the.se con- 
 traries ? 
 Finch. It is no shame: the fellow finds his 
 
 vein, 
 And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. 
 Ant. E. Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith 
 
 to arrest me. 
 Adr. Alas, I sent you money to redeem you, 
 By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. 
 Dro. E. Money by me ! heart and good-will 
 
 you might; 
 But surely, master, not a rag of money. 
 
 Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a ])urse 
 
 of ducats ? iHi 
 
 Adr. He came to me and I deliver'd it. 
 Luc. And I am witness with her that she 
 
 did. 
 Dro. E. God and the roj^e-maker bear me 
 
 witness 
 That I was sent for nothing but a rope ! 
 
 Pinch. ]\Iistress, both man and master is 
 
 })ossess"d ; 
 I know it 1)V their jiale and dciully looks: 
 They m\ist be bound and laid in some dark 
 
 room.
 
 .0 S 

 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 Ant. E. Say, wliertfore did.st th m Icck me 
 forth to-day? 98 
 
 And why dost thou deny the bag of gokl ? 
 Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee 
 forth. 100 
 
 Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no 
 gold; 
 But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. 
 Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false 
 
 in both. 
 Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false 
 in all; 
 And art confederate with a damned pack 
 To make a loathsome abject scorn of me: 
 But with these nails I '11 pluck out those falsa 
 
 eyes 
 That would behold in me this shameful sport. 
 [Rushes at Adriana, v:ho retreats from 
 him. Pinch makes a sign to the at- 
 tendants, who come on quickly, and 
 seize Antipholus and bind him^ he 
 resisting violent! >j.'\ 
 Adr. O, bind him, bind him I let him not 
 
 come near me. 
 Pinch. More comjDany I — The liend is strong 
 within him. no 
 
 Luc. Ay me, jjoor man, how pale and wan 
 
 he looks 1 
 Ayit. E. What, will you murder me? Thou 
 gaoler, thou, 
 I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suifer them 
 To make a rescue ? 
 
 Off. Masters, let him go: 
 
 He is my prisoner, and you shall not have 
 him. 
 Pin-h. Go bind his man, for he is frantic 
 too. \_Theij bind Dro. E. 
 
 Adr. What wilt thou do, tliou peevish^ 
 officer? 
 Hast thou delight to see a wretched man 
 Do outrage and displeasure to himself \ 
 
 Off. He is my prisoner: if I let him go, 120 
 The debt he owes will be requir'd of me. 
 Adr. I will discharge thee ere I go from 
 thee: 
 Bear me forthwith unto his creditor 
 And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay 
 it. 
 
 1 Peevish, foolish. 
 
 Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd 125 
 Home to my house. |^0 most unha])py dayl ) 
 Ant. E. O most unhapjiy strumjietl \ 
 
 Dro. E. Master, I am here enter d in bond^ 
 for f,o\>.. , < 
 
 Ant. ^:,Oift''rtn:tli^e, villaivi! wherefore dost^ 
 thou mad me? . , m . , c 
 
 Dro, E. Wdl yorf be bt^tjp'l'fDt' nothing? be< 
 mad, good master: cry "The devil I'' 131 < 
 
 Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they>^ 
 talk!] \ 
 
 A dr. Go Ijear him hence. Sister, go you with 
 me. 
 
 \_Exeunt I^inch and Attendants with, 
 Antijjhohis and Dromio bound, still 
 struggling. 
 Say now, whose suit is he arrested at? 
 
 Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith : do you know 
 
 him ? 
 Adr. I know the man. What is the sum he 
 
 owes? 
 Off. Two hundred ducats. 
 Adr. Sfiy, how grows it due? 
 
 Off. Due for a chain your husband had of 
 
 him. 
 Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but 
 
 had it not. 
 Cour. When as your husband all in rage to- 
 day 
 Came to my house, and took away my ring — 141 
 The ring I saw upon his finger now — 
 Straight after did I meet him with a chain. 
 Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it. 
 Come, gaoler, bring me where tlie goldsmith is: 
 I long to know the truth hereof at large. 
 
 Enter Antipholus of Syracuse with his rapier 
 dratcn, and Dromio of Sijracuse. 
 
 Luc. God, for thy mercy I tliey are loose 
 
 again. 
 Adr. And come with naked swords. 
 Let's caU more help to have them bound again. 
 0/. Away! they'll kill us. 150 
 
 [^Exeunt, in haste, Adriana, Luciana, 
 the Cotirtezan, and Officer. 
 Ant. S. I see these witches are afraid of 
 
 swords. 
 Dro. S. She that would be your wife now 
 ran from you. 
 
 101
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; feteli our 
 stuti"' from tlieiico: i.J3 
 
 I long that we were safe and sound aboard. 
 
 Bro. S. Faith, stay here this night; they 
 will surely do us no harm: you, saw they speak 
 us fair, give ijs g/jld: methiiiks they ai-e such 
 a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of 
 
 mad flesh that claims marriage of me, I muld 
 find in my heart to stay here still, and turn 
 witch. 160 
 
 Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all tlie 
 town ; 
 Tlierefore away, to get our stufl' ahoard. 
 
 [^Excant. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. A street before a Prionj. 
 Enter Second Merchant and Angelo. 
 
 Aug. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd 
 you; 
 But, I protest, he had the chain of me. 
 Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 
 Sec. Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in 
 
 the city I 
 Ang. Of very reverend re])utation, sir, 
 Of credit infinite, highly belov'd, 
 Second to none that lives here in the city: 
 His word might bear my wealth at any time. 
 Sec. Mer. Speak softly: yonder, as I think, 
 he walks. 
 
 Enter Axtipholus of S>/racuse and Dromio 
 of Si/racuse. 
 
 Ang. 'Tis so; and that self chain about his 
 neck, 10 
 
 Which he forswore - most monstrously to have. 
 ( Tood sir, draw near to me, I '11 speak to him. 
 Signior Antipholus, I wonder much 
 Tliat you would ])ut me to this shame and 
 
 trouble; 
 And, not witliout some scandal to yourself. 
 With circumstance and oaths so to deny 
 This chain, which now you wear so ojienly: 
 Beside the charge, the shame, imjirisonment, 
 You have done wrong to this my honest friend. 
 Who, but for staying on ^ our controversy, 20 
 H;id hoisted sail, and put to sea to day: 
 This chain you had of me; can you deny it? 
 
 Ant. S. I think I had; I never did deny it. 
 
 ' Stuff, baggage. 
 
 2 Forswore to have, denied on oath that he had. 
 a Staying on, waiting for the end of. 
 102 
 
 Sec. Aler. Yes, that you did, sir, and for- 
 swore it too. -n 
 Ant. S. Who heard me to deny it or for- 
 swear it? 
 Sec. Mer. These ears of mini', thou know'st, 
 did hear thee. 
 Fie on thee, wretch I 'tis pity that thou liv'st 
 To walk where any honest men resort. 
 
 Ant. S. Thou art a villain to imjieach me 
 thus: 
 I'll jn'ove mine honour anil mine honesty so 
 Against thee presently, if thou dar'st stand. 
 Sec. Mer. I dare, and do defy thee for a vil- 
 lain. \_T/u\)i (Irair. 
 
 Enter Adriana, Luciana, the Courtezan, 
 and others. 
 
 Adr. Hold, hurt him not, for God's sakel 
 he is mad. 
 Some get within him,* take his swoi'd away: 
 Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. 
 I)ro. S. Run, master, run; for Cod's sake, 
 take a hoxise I ° 
 This is some jn'iory. In, or we are sjioil'd 1 
 
 \_Exeunt Ant. S. and JJro. S. into the 
 Priory. 
 
 Enter the Lady Abbess. 
 
 Ahh. Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng 
 
 you hither J 
 Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husl)and 
 hence. 
 Let us come in, that we may bind him fa.st, 40 
 And bear him home for his recovery. 
 
 * Within him, witliin his guaiil. 
 
 5 Take a house, talie (refuge in) a liouse.
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 Aug. I knew he was not in liis perfect wits. 
 
 Sec. Mer. I am sorry now tliat I did draw 
 
 on him. 4:i 
 
 Abb. How long hath this possession hekl the 
 
 man ? 
 Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, 
 sad. 
 And much much difi'erent from the man he 
 
 was; 
 But, till this afternoon, his passion 
 Ne'er brake into extremity of I'age. 
 
 Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck 
 of sea ': 
 Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his 
 
 eye 
 Stray'd^ his affection in unlawful love, — 61 
 A sin prevailing much in youthful men, 
 Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing ? 
 Which of these sorrows is he subject to l 
 Adr. To none of these, except it be the 
 last; 
 Namely, some love that drew him oft from 
 home. 
 Abb. You should for that have reprehendetl 
 
 him. 
 Adr. Why, so I did. 
 
 Abb. Ay, but not rough enough. 
 
 Adr. As roughly as my modesty would let 
 
 me. 
 Abb. Haply, in private. 
 Adr. And in assemblies too. 
 
 Abb. Ay, l)ut not enough. t3i 
 
 Adr. It was the copy of our conference: 
 In bed, he slept not for my urging it; 
 At board he fed not for my urging it: 
 Alone, it was the subject of my theme; 
 In company, I often glanced^ it; 
 Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. 
 
 Abb. And thereof came it that the man was 
 mad: 
 The venom 3 clamours of a jealous woman 
 Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 70 
 It seems his sleeps were hinder'd l)y thy rail- 
 ing, 
 And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
 Thou say'st his meat was sauc'd with thy up- 
 braidings : 
 
 1 Stray'd, caused to stray, misled. 
 
 2 Glanced, censured. 
 
 ■' Fewom = venomous, or venoni'd. 
 
 Unquiet meals make ill digestions: r4 
 
 Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; 
 And what 's a fever but a fit of madness 1 
 Thou say'st his sports were hinder'd by thy 
 
 brawls : 
 Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue 
 But moody, moping, and dull melancholy, 
 Q Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, 80 ) 
 And at her heels a huge infectious trooji 
 Of pale distemperatures* and foes to life? 
 In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest 
 To be disturb'd, Avould mad or man or beast : ] ; 
 The consequence is, then, thy jealous fits 
 Have scai''d thy husband from the use of wits. 
 
 Luc. She never rejjrehended him but mildly, 
 When he demean'd himself rough, rude and 
 
 wildly. 
 Why bear you these rebukes and answer not? 
 
 Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. — 
 Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. oi 
 
 Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. 
 
 Adr. Then let your servants bi-ing my hus- 
 band forth. 
 
 Abb. Neither: he took this jilace for sanc- 
 tuary. 
 And it shall privilege him from your hands. 
 Till I have brought him to his wits again. 
 Or lose my labour in assaying it. 
 
 Adr. I will attend my husband, be his 
 nurse, 
 Diet his sickness, for it is my ofHee, 
 And will have no attorney but myself; loo 
 And therefore let me have him liome with 
 me. 
 
 Abb. Be patient; for I will not let him stir 
 Till I have us'd the approved means I have. 
 With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy 
 
 prayers. 
 To make of him a formal'' man again : 
 It is a branch and jiarcel of mine oath, 
 A charitable duty of my order. 
 Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. 
 
 Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husl)and 
 here : 
 And ill it doth beseem your holiness im 
 
 To separate the husband and the wife. 
 
 AbJ). Be quiet and depart: tliou shalt not 
 have him. \^Exit. 
 
 Distemperatures, sicknesses. ^ Formal, reasonable. 
 103
 
 ACT Y. Sceue 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT V. Scone 1. 
 
 Luc. C{)ini)l;uii unto t\w duke of this indig- 
 nity. 113 
 Adr. Come, go : I will fall prostrate at his 
 feet, 
 And never rise until my tears and prayers 
 Have won his grace to come in person hither, 
 And take perforce my husband from the 
 abVjess. 
 .Vet'. J/r/-. By this, I think, the dial points 
 at five : 
 Anon, I'm sure, the duke himself in ])erson 
 Comes this way to the melancholy vale, vzo 
 The place of death and soriy^ execution. 
 Behind the ditches of the abbey here. 
 A ng. Upon what cause ? 
 >yec. Mer. To see a reverend Syracusian 
 merchant. 
 Who put unluckily into this bay 
 Against the laws and statutes of this town. 
 Beheaded ixiblicly for his offence. 
 
 Aug. See where they come : we will behold 
 
 his death. 
 Luc. {to Adrianci\ Kneel t(j the duke before 
 he pass the abbey. 
 
 Enter Duke, attended; ^geon hareheaded and 
 bound; with the Headsman and other Officers. 
 
 Duhe. Yet once again proclaim it publicly. 
 If any friend will pay the sum for him, lai 
 He shall not die; so much we tender ^ him. 
 
 Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the 
 abbess ! 
 
 Duhe. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady: 
 It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. 
 
 Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus 
 my husband, 
 Whom I made lord of me and all I had. 
 At your im^jortant'^ letters, — this ill day 
 A most outrageous fit of madness took him; 
 That desperately he hurried througli the 
 street, — 140 
 
 With him his bondman, all as mad as he, — 
 Doing displeasure to the citizens 
 By rushing in their houses, bearing thence 
 Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. 
 Once did I get him bound and .sent him home, 
 "Wliilst to take order* for the wrongs I went, 
 
 That here and there his fury had eomniitted. 
 Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, i4s 
 He broke from those that had the guard of 
 
 him; 
 And with his mad attendant and himself, i50 
 Each one with ireful passion, with drawn 
 
 swords. 
 Met us agiun, and, madly bent on us, 
 Chas'd us away, till raising of nmre aid, 
 
 1 Snrnj. sorrowful, dismal, 
 s Iiiiportant, i.e. importunate. 
 ■* Tu take order, to take measures, 
 104 
 
 2 Tender, regard. 
 
 Adi: Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess! 
 
 We came again to bind them. Then they 
 
 fled 
 Into this abbey, whither we pursu'd them : 
 And here the abbess shuts the gates on us. 
 And will not suffer us to fetch him out, 
 Nor send him forth, that we may bear him 
 
 hence. 
 Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy com- 
 mand. 
 Let him l)e brought forth, and borne hence 
 for help. 160
 
 iCT V. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 Duke. Long since thy husband serv'd me in 
 my wars, I6i 
 
 And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, 
 When thou didst make him master of thy bed. 
 To do him all the gi'ace and good I could. — 
 Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate. 
 And bid the lady abbess come to me. — 
 I will determine this before I stir. 
 
 Eater a Servant. 
 
 Sen: O mistress, mistress, shift and sa\*e 
 
 yourself ! 
 
 My master and his man are both broke loose, 
 
 Beaten the maids a-i'Ow,i and bound the 
 
 doctor, 170 
 
 Whose beard they have sing'd off with brands 
 
 of fire; 
 ^QAnd ever, as it blaz'd, they threw on him 
 ^ Great pails of puddled mire to cpiench the 
 \ hair : 
 
 ^'My master preaches imtience to him, while 
 ^His man with scissors nicks him^ like a fool; ] 
 And sure, unless you send some present help. 
 Between them they will kill the conjurer. 
 Adr. Peace, fool I thy master and his man 
 are here, 
 And that is false thou dost report to us. 
 
 >Serc. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; 
 I have not breath'd almost since I did see it. 
 He cries for you, and vows, if he can take 
 you, 1S2 
 
 Ti) scorch your face, and to disfigure you. 
 
 [Cry within. 
 Hark, hark ! I hear him, mistress : fly, be 
 gone ! 
 Duke. Come, .stand by me; fear nothing. 
 
 Guard with halberds ! 
 A dr. Ay me, it is my husband I Witness 
 
 That he is borne about invisible : 
 Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; 
 And now he 's there, past thought of human 
 reason. 
 
 Enter Antipholcs of Ephcsits and Dromio of 
 Ephesus. 
 
 Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, O, grant 
 me justice I 190 
 
 1 A-ron\ in succession. - Sicks him, cuts his hair close. 
 
 Even for the service that long since I did thee, 
 When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took 192 
 Deeji scars to save thy life; even for the blood 
 That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
 ^(/e. Unless the fear of death doth make 
 
 me dote, 
 I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. 
 
 Ant. E. Justice, sweet jjrince, against that 
 
 Avoman there ! 
 She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife, 
 That hath abused and dishonour'd me 
 Even in the strength and height of injury! 200 
 Beyond imagination is the wrong- 
 That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 
 Did-e. Discover how, and thou shalt find 
 
 me just. 
 Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the 
 
 doors upon me. 
 While she with harlots feasted in my house. 
 Dul-e. A grievous fault I — Say, woman, didst 
 
 thou so ? 
 Adr. No, my good lord : myself, he, and my 
 
 sister, 
 To-day did dine together. So befall my soul 
 As this is false he burdens me withal I 
 
 Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on 
 
 night, 210 
 
 But .she tells to your highness simjJe truth I 
 Ang. O perjur'd woman I They are l)oth 
 
 forsworn : 
 In this the madman justly chargeth them. 
 
 Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say, 
 Neither disturbed with th' effect of wine, 
 Nor heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire, 
 Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. 
 This woman lock'd me out this day from 
 
 dinner : 
 That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd' 
 
 with her. 
 Could witness it, for he was with me then; 220 
 WHio parted with me to go fetch a chain, 
 Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, 
 Where Balthazar and I did dine together. 
 Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 
 I went to seek him : in the street I met him, 
 And in his comj^any that gentleman. 
 There did this ])ei-jurVl goklsmith swear me 
 
 down 
 
 3 Pack'd, leagued. 
 105
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 That I this day of him receiv'd the chain, 
 Which, (to(1 he knows, 1 saw not : ftn- tlie 
 
 which 
 He (lid arrest me with an officer. 230 
 
 I did obey, and sent my pe;isant home 
 For certain ducats: he with none return'd. 
 Then fairly I bespoke the officer 
 To go in person with me to my house. 
 By the way we met 
 My wife, her sister, and a rabble more 
 Of vile confederates. Along with them 
 They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd 
 
 villain, 
 A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
 A threadbare juggler, and a fortune-teller, 
 A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
 A liAnng-dead man : this pernicious slave, 24i 
 Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
 And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my ])ulse, 
 And with no face, as "t were, outfticing me, 
 Cries out, I w;is possessed. Then all together 
 They fell ujion me, bound me, bore me thence, 
 And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
 They left me and my man, both bound to- 
 gether; 
 Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in 
 
 sunder, 
 I gain'd my freedom, and immediately 250 
 Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech 
 To give me ample .satisfaction 
 For these deep shames and great indignities. 
 Ang. My lord, in truth, thus far I witness 
 with liim, 
 That he ilin'd not at home, but was lock'd out. 
 Duke. But had he such a chain of thee or 
 
 no? 
 Aug. He had, my lord : and when he ran 
 in here. 
 These people saw the chain about his neck. 
 Sen. Mcr. Besides, I will be sworn these ears 
 of mine 
 Heard you confess you had the chain of him, 
 After you first forswore it on the mart : 2t;i 
 And thereupon I drew my sword on you; 
 And then you fled into this abbey here. 
 From whence, I think, you are come by 
 miracle, 
 Ant. E. I never came within these abbey- 
 walls. 
 Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me : 
 106 
 
 I never saw the chain, so helj) me Heaven I 
 And this is false you liurden me withal. 
 
 Diiki'. Why, what an intricate imjieach' is 
 this : 
 I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup. 270 
 If here you hous'd him, here he would have 
 
 been; 
 If he were mad, he would not i)lead .so coldly: — 
 You say he din'd at home; the goldsmith here 
 Denies that saying.— Sirrah, what say you? 
 Dro. E. Sir, he din'd with her there, at the 
 
 Porpentine. 
 Cow. He did, and from my tinger snatch'd 
 
 that ring. 
 Ant. E. 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had 
 
 of her. 
 Duke. Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey 
 
 here? 
 Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your 
 
 grace. 
 Dtike. Why, this is .strange. — Go call the 
 abbess hither. — jso 
 
 I think you are all mated,^ or stark mad. 
 
 l^Exit one to the Abbess, 
 ^ge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me 
 speak a word : 
 Hajjly I see a friend will save my life, 
 And pay the sum that may deliver me. 
 
 Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou 
 
 wilt. 
 jSilge. Is not your name, sir, calFd Anti- 
 pholus ? 
 And is not that your bondman, Dromio \ 
 Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bond- 
 man, sir, 
 But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords: 
 Now am I Dromio, and his man unbound. 2',k> 
 jEge. I am sure you both of you remember 
 
 me. 
 Dro. E. Ourselves we do remendier, sir, by 
 you; 
 For lately we were bound, as you are now. 
 You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir? 
 ^ge. Why look you strange on me? you 
 
 know me well. 
 Ant. E. I neA'^er saw you in my life till now. 
 yEge. O, gi'ief hath chang'd me since you 
 saw me last. 
 
 1 Impeach, accusation. 
 
 - Mated, confused.
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERROKS. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 And carefuP houi's with time's deformed hand 
 Have written strange defeatures^ in ray face : 
 But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? 
 
 Ant. E. Neither. 301 
 
 uE(je. Dromio, nor thou ? 
 
 Dro. E. No, triist me, sir, nor I. 
 
 uEge. I am sure thou dost. 
 
 Dro. E. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not ; and 
 wdiatsoever a man denies, you are now bound 
 to believe him. 
 
 ^Ege. Not know my voice ! O time's extre- 
 mity, 
 Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor 
 
 tongue 
 In seven short yeai's, that here my only son 
 Knows not my feeble key of untvm'd cares? 
 Though now this grained face of mine be hid 
 In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 312 
 And all the conduits of my blood froze ujj; 
 Yet ha.th my night of life some memory. 
 My wasting lamps some fading glinnner left, 
 My dull deaf ears a little use to hear : 
 All these old witnesses — I cannot err — 
 Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. 
 
 A at. E. I never saw my father in my life. 
 
 jEge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, 
 boy, 3S0 
 
 Thou know'st we parted : but perhaps, my son. 
 Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. 
 
 Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in 
 the city. 
 Can witness with me that it is not so : 
 I ne'er saAv Sja\icusa in my life. 
 
 Duhe. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years 
 Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
 During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa : 
 I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. 
 
 Re-enter Abbess, ivith A'stifho'lus of >S>/racuse 
 and Dromio of Si/racuse. 
 
 Ahh. Most mighty duke, behold a man much 
 wrong'd. \^All gather to see them. 330 
 
 Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes de- 
 ceive me. 
 
 Duke. One of these men is Genius to the 
 other; 
 And so of these. [^Looking at the tico Dromios.] 
 Which is the natural man, 
 
 1 Careful, full of anxiety. 
 
 2 Defeatures, changes of features. 
 
 And which the spirit? who decijjhers them? 
 Dro. .V. I sir, am Dromio : command him 
 away. .■^35 
 
 Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio: pray, let me 
 
 stay. 
 Ant. »S'. ^5^geon art thou not? or else his 
 
 ghost ? 
 Dro. S. O, my old master ! who hath bound 
 
 him here? 
 Ahh. Whoever bound him, I will lose his 
 bonds, 
 And gain a husband by his liberty. 340 
 
 Speak, old ^^geon, if thou Ije'st the man 
 That hadst a wife once, call'd ^^miUa, 
 That bore thee at a burden two fair sons : 
 O, if thou be'st the same Mgeon, speak. 
 And speak unto the same ^^milia ! 
 
 jEge. If I dream not, thou art .^^ilmilia: 
 If thou art she, tell me where is that son 
 That floated with thee on the fatal raft ? 
 Ahh. By men of Epitlamium he, and I, 
 And the twin Dromio, all were taken up; 350 
 But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth 
 By force took Dromio and my son from them. 
 And me they left with those of Epidamium. 
 What then became of them I cannot tell; 
 I to this fortune that you see me in. 
 
 Duke. Why, here begins his morning story 
 right : 
 These two Antipholi, these two .so like. 
 And these two Dromios, one in semblance, — 
 Besides his urging of her wreck at sea, — 
 These are the parents to these children, 360 
 Wliich accidentally are met together. 
 Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first? 
 A nt. S. No, sir, not I ; I came from Syra- 
 cuse. 
 Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which 
 
 is which. 
 Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gra- 
 cious lord, — 
 Dro. E. And I with him. 
 Ant. E. Brought to this town by that most 
 famous warrior, 
 Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
 Adr. Wliich of you two did dine with me 
 
 to-day? 
 Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. 
 Adr. And are not you my husband ? 
 
 Ant. E. No ; I say nay to that. 371 
 
 107
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 Aut. /V. And SO do I ; yet did she call me so: 
 And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, 
 Did call me brother. [To Liic] What I told 
 you then, 374 
 
 I hope I shall have leisure to make good; 
 If this be not a dream I see and hear. 
 
 Aiiff. That is the chain, sir, ^Yhieh you had 
 
 of me. 
 Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not. 
 Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain ar- 
 rested me. 3S0 
 Aug. I think I did, sir; I deny it not. 
 Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
 By Dromio ; but I think he brought it not. 
 Dro. E. No, none by me. 
 Ant. tS. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from 
 you 
 And Dromio my man did bring them me. 
 I see we still did meet each other's man, 
 And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, 
 And thereupon these errors are arose. 
 
 Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father 
 
 here. 
 Bid-e. It shall not need ; thy fatlier hath his 
 life. 390 
 
 Cour. Sir, I must have that diamond from 
 
 you. 
 Ant. E. There, take it; and much thanks 
 
 for my good cheer. 
 Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the 
 pains 
 To go with us into the abbey here, 
 And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes: 
 And all that are assembled in this place, 
 That by this syniitathized one day's error 
 Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company. 
 And we shall make full satisfaction. 
 Twenty -five years have I but gone in tra- 
 vail 100 
 Of you, my sons; and till this present hour, 
 ISIy heavy burthen ne'er delivered. 
 The duke, my husband, and my children both. 
 And you the calendars of their nativity. 
 Go to a gossips' feast, and go with me ; 
 After so long grief, such felicity ! 
 
 Duke. With all my heart, I '11 gossip at this 
 feast. [E.ix'unt all but Ant. >S., Ant. E., 
 Dro. S., and Dro. E. 
 Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch your stuff from 
 shipboard ? 
 
 108 
 
 Ant. E. Dromio, what stiift' of mine hast thou 
 em bark 'd I 
 
 Dro. S. Your goods that lay at host, sir, in 
 the Centaur. 4iy 
 
 Ant. >S'. He speaks to me. I am your mas- 
 ter, Dromio: 
 
 Dro. E. Nay, then, thus . . . let's go hand iu hand, not one 
 before another. 
 
 Come, go with us; we '11 look to that anon: 
 Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him. 
 [Exeunt Ant. /S. and Ant. E. 
 Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your mas- 
 ter's house, 
 That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner: 
 She now shall be my sister, not my wife. 
 Dro. E. Methinks you are my glass, and 
 not my brother: 
 I see by you I am a sweet-fac'd youth. 
 Will you walk in to see their gossiping? 
 Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. 420 
 Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try it? 
 Dro. S. We'll draw cuts for the senior: till 
 
 then lead thou first. 
 Dro. E. Nay, then, thus: 
 We came into the world like brother and bro- 
 ther; 
 And now let 's go hand in hand, not one before 
 another. [Exeunt
 
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT I. SCKNE 1. 
 
 1. Line 14: Dotli Inj the Syracusians. So all the Folios. 
 Some nioileru editors alter Symcut^ians to Syracvuann; 
 Syracusian is a form sometimes found; for instance. 
 Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, uses it— "or as 
 that Symcusian in a tempest, &c." (ed. IGTti, p. 345). 
 
 2. Lines 16-18: 
 
 iVrtj/, iiiore, if any born at Ephesus 
 Be seen at Syracugian marts and fairs; 
 Again, if any Syrac^isian born. 
 The Ff. read line 17: 
 
 Be seen at any Syraciisian marts and fairs. 
 
 The Cambridge Edd., following :Malone, arrange thus: 
 
 Nay, more, 
 
 If any born at Ephesus be seen 
 
 At any Syracusian marts and fairs. 
 
 Tlie word any in line 17 was probably inserted in Ff. 
 by mistake from the following line. We have followed 
 Dyce in the aiTangement of the lines. 
 
 3. Line 35: Tl'os wrouyht by nature, nut by vile offence, 
 i.e. by natural affection, which impelled me to seek my 
 son at Ephesus, not by deliberate offence against the 
 law. 
 
 4. Line 39: A nd by me TOO, had not our hap been bad. 
 — Too, which is necessary to the metre, was inserted 
 by F. 2. 
 
 5. Line 42: Epidnmiwn.—So Ff. , corrected by nearly all 
 modern editors to Epidamwicm; but as Epidamnus is 
 
 the correct name of tlie town (afterwards called by the 
 Romans Byrrhachium), we have thought it better to keep 
 the same form as that in F. 1; although in the transla- 
 tion of the JMencCchmi by W. W., published in 1695, Epi- 
 damntnn is the word used. The mistake probably arose 
 from the fact that, in the acrostic argument prefixed to 
 the Menajchmi, the nan)e of the town occurs only in the 
 
 accusative case: 
 
 Post Epida7nnjtin devenit. 
 
 If the reading of the Folio be altered at all, surely it 
 should be to Epidamnus. 
 
 6. Line 43: And THE great care of goods.— The is Theo- 
 bald's emendation for he, the reading of F. 1. 
 
 7. Line 55: A meaner woman was delivered.— V. 1 reads 
 "a meanc woman." F. 2 "A 2ioor yneane woman." But 
 poor occurs two lines lower down. Meaner, i.e. "belong- 
 ing to a lower rank," is Walker's emendation. 
 
 8. Line 88: WAS carried towards Corinth.— 'Sltmy edi- 
 tors substitute were; but, perhaps, the subject of the sen- 
 tence is the mast: Capell's suggestion to alter and in 
 the pieceding line to ivhich may be right. 
 
 9. Line 94: Of Corinth that, ofEpidattriisthis.—ThisVme 
 seems to reqnire a little geographical explanation. The 
 Epidaurus (spe\t Ei/idarns in F. 1) mentioned here, was 
 the town of that name, situate in Argolis on the Saronic 
 Gulf. Tliere was another Epidaurus in Laconia, called 
 also Limera. Corinth had two ports, Lecha;iim on the 
 Gulf of Corinth, and CenchreM on the Saronic Gulf. A 
 ship, bound to or coming from the latter port, would 
 
 109
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT II. Scsnc 1. 
 
 come by the same course as one sailing' to or from Epi- 
 daiirus; and they would meet the floating mast, on which 
 jE^eon his wife and tlic four chiUlren were, outside the 
 Ionian Ishmds. Dyrrhachium {Durazzo) is about 250 miles 
 from the mouth of tlie Gulf of Corinth: iEgeon tells us 
 tliat the storm commenced when they were "a league 
 from Epidamiuin;" so that, as it was not long before the 
 wreck took place, the mast, on whicli he and his family 
 were saved, must have travelled some considerable dis- 
 tance to have reached any spot near tlie entrance of that 
 gulf. Accuracy, however, as regards the situation of 
 places and their distance from one another, must not be 
 looked for in dramatic works. 
 
 10. Line 104: Our HELPFUL ship.—T<.os\e altered helpful 
 to helpless, while Mr. Swynfen Jervis suggested hopeful. 
 Surely these corrections are totally unnecessary. By 
 '• our helpful ship" J£.<iQO\\ means the mast which came, 
 as it were, to their help, when they were wiecked. Help- 
 ful is a characteristic epithet; the proposed emendations 
 are commonplace. 
 
 11. Line 115: Gave healthful icelcouie.~T\n% is the 
 reading of F. 1 ; tlie three later Folios read helpful: here 
 again the emendation supplies a weaker epithet than tlie 
 original reading. 
 
 12. Line 125: My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care. 
 — .Shakespeare, as Mason points out, has made a slip here. 
 The younger twin was with the mother, not with the 
 father, when they were wrecked. See lines 79-83 : 
 
 My wife, more careful for t/ie latter born, &c. 
 
 13. Line 12S: FOR his case loas Wce.—F. 1 reads so, a 
 reading defended by Malone; but F. 2 reads/or, which Is 
 better. Tlie whole passage is rather obscurely worded; 
 and, as the s of for might easily have been confounded 
 with the / of so, the emendation of F. 2, which certainly 
 makes the sense clearer, may be accepted without any 
 scruple. 
 
 14. Lines VM, 132: 
 
 Whom whilst I lahour'd of a love to see, 
 1 hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd. 
 The construction here is very obscure; the meaning is 
 tolerably clear. Whom (i.e. my lost son) whilst I la- 
 hour'd of a love (i.e. was lovingly anxious) to see, yet (in 
 letting my other son go to seek him) I hazarded the 
 loss of whom I lov'd (i.e. that other son himself). Per- 
 haps if we read "of him I lov'd " the sentence would not 
 seem quite so awkward. 
 
 15. Line 133: 
 
 Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, 
 lioaming clean tlirouyh the hounds of Asia. 
 His travels were, apparently, not so extensive as those 
 desci'ibcil in the corresponding passage of \V. W.'s trans- 
 lation of the Menscchmi. ^Egeon means he had been all 
 through Grajcia Superior, Macedonia and Thrace; and 
 now, returning down the eastern coast of the -■Egean Sea, 
 came to Ephesus. 
 
 16. Lines 151, 152 : 
 
 Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day 
 To seek thy LIFE by beneficial help. 
 Merchant, if the reading of the Folios be adhered to, 
 110 
 
 nmst be pronounced with the accent on the last syllable, 
 I have met with the word so accented in an old Play, but 
 cannot lay my hand on the reference. Pope altered the 
 arrangement of the words to /, therefore, merchant, which 
 Capell followed, reading I'll instead of 1. Life is Pope's 
 emendation. Ff. read help. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 17. Line 28: Aiul aftcnvard cons6rt j/om.— Some edi- 
 tors, unnecessarily, read "icith you." For a similar use of 
 consort, see Love's Labour 's Lost, ii. 1. 178: 
 
 Sweet liealtli aiui fair desires consort your grace ; 
 
 and again in Julius Ca;sar, v. 1. 83: 
 
 Who to Pliilippi liere consorted us. 
 
 18. Line 41: Rere comes the ALMANAC of my true date. 
 —He means, of course, Dromio, who, having been bom 
 in the same hour as his master, serves to fix the date of 
 his birth, like an almanac. 
 
 19. Lines 04, 05: 
 
 I shall be POST indeed. 
 For she ivill SCORE your fault upon my 2Mte. 
 It seems tliat a 2>ost stood in the middle of the shop, on 
 which the scores of the customers were notched or chalked 
 up. In Every JIan in his Humour, iii. 3, Cob says : "Then 
 I 'm a vagabtmd ... if I saw anybody to be kiss'd, 
 unless they would have kiss'd the jjoii in the middle if 
 the warehouse " (Ben Jonson's Works, vol. i. p. 95). 
 
 20. Line 97: They say this town is full of cozenage. — The 
 hint for this and the following lines was taken, probably, 
 from W. W.'s translation of the Memechmi, ii. 1. Messenio 
 says : 
 
 This towne Epidaninuni is .a place of outrajjeous expences, exceed* 
 iiiij in all ryot and lasciviousnesse : and (I heare) as full of Ribaulds, 
 Parasites, Drunkards, Catchpoles, Cony-catchers, and Sycophants, as 
 it can hold; then for Curtizans, why here's the currantest stamp of 
 them in the world. — Hazlitt's Shak. Lib. vol. i. part ii. p. ii. 
 
 21. Lines 99, 100: 
 
 Dark-working sorcerers that change the wind, 
 SOUL-KILLING Witches that deform the body. 
 Warburtoii, quite unnecessarily, altered dark-ivorking 
 to drug-working, while Johnson transposes the epithets. 
 Dark-working may mean either " that work in the dark," 
 or " that work deeds of darkness." The expression .soui- 
 killing witches is found also in Christopher Middletou's 
 Legend of Humphrey Duke of Glocester, 1000: 
 
 They charge her, that she did maintaine and feede 
 Sottl-killin^ ^uitches, and convers'd with devils. 
 
 22. Line 102: liberties of sin.— Altered by Hanmer, and 
 by Collier's " Old Corrector," to " rt&t'>7(')ies of sin. " Steevena 
 thinks tlie expression means "licensed offenders;" while 
 Malone explains it " sinful liberties." It may perhaps be 
 sense, explained as " liberties /or sin;" or this may be a 
 reference to that peculiar use of tlie word in such a phrase 
 as the " liberties of the Fleet." 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 23. Line 12: he takes it ILL.— So F. 2, correcting the 
 mistake of ¥. 1, wliicli gives thus instead of (7^
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF EREORS. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 24. Lines 20, 21 : 
 
 Men, mure divine, the MASTKRS of all these, 
 Lords of the wide world, itc 
 Ff. print man, master, lord; corrected by Hanmer. 
 
 25. Line 30: How if your husband START some OTHER 
 WHERE?— Johnson proposed to read "start some other 
 hare;" but, surely, any emendation is unnecessary. Start 
 is used in a similar sense in ilarlowe's Tragedy of Dido, 
 act iv. : 
 
 Mine eye is ii.\'d where fancy cannot start ; 
 
 — Works, p. 266. 
 
 by wliich larbas, who speaks tlie line, means to say his 
 " eye is fix'd " on one from whom his love can never stray. 
 Othcrivhere (printed as one word) occurs again in this 
 scene (line 104). 
 
 I know his eye doth homage other2vhere. 
 
 The meaning of the passage in our text is plain enough. 
 " What if your husband stray to some other place?" i.e. 
 "to some other love." 
 
 26. Line 33: They can be ineck that hace no other cause, 
 i.e. that have no cause to be otherwise. 
 
 27. Lines 34-.39: 
 
 A wretched sold, bruis'd with adversitij, 
 K'e bid be quiet when we hear it cry ; 
 But were we burden'd with like weiyht of pain. 
 As much or more we should ourselves complain: 
 So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee. 
 With urging helpless patience tvouldst relieve ine. 
 Compare Much Ado about Nothing, v. 1. 20-31, the 
 whole of Antonio's speech, especially the following por- 
 tions: 
 
 for, brother, men 
 Can counsel and speak comfort to that ^rief 
 Which they themselves not feel ; . . . 
 
 No, no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 
 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow, 
 
 But no man's virtue nor sufficiency 
 
 To be so moral when he shall endure 
 
 The like himself. 
 Here we have a beautiful expansion of the idea in the 
 text. What marvellous progress the writer has made in 
 the interim between the two works ! 
 
 28. Line 64 : "Will you come HOME?" — The word home, 
 not found in Ff., was inserted by Hanmer. The sense and 
 metre both require it. 
 
 29. Line 68: / know not thy MISTRisss; out on thy mis- 
 tress! — We must place the accent on the second syllable 
 of the first mistress, in this passage, if the verse is not to 
 be an utterly unrhythmical one. Steevens would read: 
 
 I know jio mistress, out ii/'on thy mistress, 
 
 a very plausible suggestion. It is not unusual to find the 
 same word accented differently, when occurring in more 
 than one place, even if close together. The following is 
 a very striking instance, taken from one of the sonnets 
 prefi.xed to an old play, the blank verse of which is, 
 throughout, above the average merit : 
 
 So Jove, as your high firtiie.^ done deserve. 
 Grant you such pheers as may your virtues serve 
 With like virtues; and blissful V^enus send, &c. 
 
 Dodsley. (Preface to Tancred and Gismunda), vol. vii. 
 
 p. IS. 
 
 In Pericles, ii. 5. 1&, we find mistress used with the 
 accent on the last syllable : 
 
 'Tib well, mistress, your choice agrees with mine. 
 
 In line 73 of the same scene it is used with the usual 
 accent : 
 
 Yea, jnistress, are you so peremptory? 
 
 30. Line 73: / thank him, I bare home V2wn my 
 shoulders.— Steevens reads tear, unnecessarily. 
 
 31. Line 87: His company must do his minions grace. 
 —Minion, which originally meant "anything delicate or 
 pretty" (Fr. mignon), came to be used generally, in a bad 
 sense, of favourites of either sex. It is especially applied 
 to male favourites like Piers Gaveston, (See Marlowe's 
 Edward II., frequently.) 
 
 32. Line 101: poor I am hut /us stale.— Compare speech 
 of Mulier in the translation of Menwchmi. v. 1 (Hazlitt's 
 Shak. Lib. p. 30). 
 
 He makes me a state and a laughing stocke to all the world. 
 
 A s^le is literally a decoy, "originally the form of a 
 bird set up to allure a hawk" (Nares). The word has 
 several meanings, and there is probably a double mean- 
 ing intended here. 
 
 33. Line 107: Would that ALONE ALONE he ^vould de- 
 tain. So F. 2: F. 1 reads "alone, a loue;" an evident 
 mistake, the n being substituted for n. Compare Lucrece 
 
 (line 795) : 
 
 But I atojie atone must sit and pine. 
 
 34. Lines 109-113 : These lines in F. 1 are printed thus: 
 
 / see the lewell best enameled 
 Will loose his beautie: yet the gold bides still 
 That others touch, and often touching will. 
 Where gold and no man that hath a name. 
 By falshood and corruption doth it shame: 
 
 We have printed the passage in the text according to the 
 generally received emendations of Theobald, Pope, and 
 others, adopted by Dyce, Staunton, and other modern 
 editors. It is remarkable that both Dyce and Staunton 
 declare themselves not at all satisfied, and doubt if the 
 emendations have restored the real text or meaning. It 
 may be that the old copies are right in the first two lines; 
 meaning that the man, who is the jewel of her love, will 
 lose his beauty, i.e. the many charms with which her 
 love had invested him; yet the gold, i.e. the setting of 
 the jewel, the real man, bides (remains) still. The jeioel. 
 being enamelled, would not be a precious stone, and 
 therefore of less intrinsic value than the gold setting. 
 The other three lines, which are manifestly corrupt, 
 might then read thus : 
 
 That others touch, and often touching will 
 Wear gold ; so any man that hath a name 
 By falsehood and corruption doth it shame; 
 
 in which case the only alterations of the original text 
 would be in the punctuation; and the substitution of wear 
 for ichere, and so any for and no (the and having very 
 likely been copied from the line above). The meaning of 
 touch may be to assay, or to defile. But, in any case, the 
 author seems to have neglected to carry out the simile he 
 originally intended. 
 
 Ill
 
 ACT II. Sceue 2. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 35. Lines 28, 29 : 
 
 Your saticiness leill JEST upon my love, 
 -■IjuiJiAKE A COMMON ov my serious hours. 
 
 To make a common of, d-c, means to intrude on them 
 wlien you please, treating' them as a common, which is 
 eveiyliody's land. Dyce reads jet, wliich he supports by 
 two very apposite passages: one, from Richard III. ii 4. 
 
 51, 52 : 
 
 Insulting tyranny begins to jet. 
 Upon the innocent and awless throne. 
 
 36. Line 54: I'll make you amends NEXT, to r/ive you 
 nothing for something. — Capell's conjecture is next time: 
 wlule Collier would substitute aiid for to. 
 
 37. Line C3: Lest it make you choleric—So in the Tam- 
 ins of the .-^hrew (iv. 1. 173-175): 
 
 I tell thee, Kate, "t was burnt and dried away ; 
 And I expressly am forbid to touch it, 
 ' For it engenders choUr, planteth anger. 
 
 I cannot find any reference to, or explanation of, the 
 belief that over-cooked meat causes choler or anger. 
 In Xares' Diet, sub voce "dry," these two passages of 
 Shakespeare are the only evidence of the belief quoted. 
 Burton, in the Anatomy of Melancholy (p. 43, ed. 1676), 
 enumerates among the causes of melancholy " indurate 
 meats" and "meats over-drycd." 
 
 38. Line 79: so plentifid an excrement?— See note 
 15'.), V. 1. 120, Love's Labour's Lost. 
 
 39. Line 81: he hath scanted MEN in hair.~¥f. read 
 them; the emendation is Theobald's. 
 
 40. Line 90 : 2;oh'c(/. — ¥f. reaA jollity, ^ye have adopted 
 Staunton's conjecture: he says "there is a kind of policy 
 in a man's losing his hair to save his money, and to pre- 
 vent an uncleanly addition to his porridge ; but wliere is 
 the jollity .'" 
 
 41. Line 92 : sound ones.— So F. 2. F. 1 omits ones. 
 
 42. Line 95: in a thing FkhSlSQ.— Hesith suggests fall- 
 ing. The old verb to false means to falsify, to betray: 
 falsing does not seem to make much sense ; though it may 
 seem better opposed to sure thAn falling. 
 
 43. Line 99: that he spends in tyring.— The reading of 
 Ff. is trying. Pope altered it very justly to tyring; but 
 Rowe substituted triinming, which, though followed by 
 many modern editors, seems an unnecessarily violent 
 change. 
 
 44. Line 103: namely, no timc—'P. 1 reads in no time: 
 Malone reads e'en. The omission of in seems necessary 
 to the sense. 
 
 45. Line 111: who WAFTS us yonder?— Wafts, i.e. beck- 
 ons; compare Hamlet, i. 4. 78, where the Folios read tvafts, 
 instead of waves, in all the passages in which that word 
 occurs, e.g. : 
 
 It U'o/es me still. 
 Go on ; I'll follow thee. 
 
 46. Line 120 : carv'd to thee.— WAlker would read carv'd 
 thee, on the ground that " Shakespeare eschews the tri- 
 
 112 
 
 s\ liable ending altogctlier;" and that tlie expressions 
 carve her, and carve him occur in Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 Some editors omit to thee to avoid tlie two extra syllables: 
 Walker's emendation is, however, preferable. 
 
 47. Line 122: That than art THIS estranged.— ¥i. read 
 then: thus is Rowe's emendation. 
 
 48. Line 138: tear the stain'B skin off my harlot- 
 brow.— The practice of branding harlots on the forehead 
 is alluded to by Shakespeare in Hamlet, iv. 5. llS-120: 
 
 /'rands the harlot. 
 Even here, betivccn the chaste unsviirched broiv 
 Of my true mother. 
 
 and there is no doubt that an allusion to the same custom 
 explains the following passage in the same play (iii. 4. 
 
 42-44) : 
 
 takes off the rose 
 From the {avc forehead ol 3.\\ innocent love, 
 And sets a blister there. 
 
 49. Line 143 : ily blood is mingled with the CRIME of 
 lust.— Warhmton proposed grime, on the ground that the 
 integrity of the metaphor, and the word blot in the pre- 
 ceding line, sliow that we should read grime. Dyce and 
 Staunton follow Warburton ; the latter supporting the 
 reading by a line in Hall's Satires, book iv. S. 1 : 
 
 Besmeared all witli loathsome stnoake of lust. 
 
 No doubt, grime of lust would be a very intelligible ex- 
 pression; but there does not seem any necessity for alter- 
 ing the text. Grime would seem more appropriate, were 
 Adriana talking of an external stain, not of a defilenient 
 of her blood. 
 
 50. Line 148: I live UNSTAIn'D, thou undishonoured.— 
 Ff. read distain'd, which is probably a misprint for un- 
 stain'd. Dyce gives several instances of blunders arising 
 from the mistake of v (as u was printed very often in the 
 sixteenth century) for some other letter. There is no 
 doubt that the word distained means stained, discol- 
 oured ; it is used in that sense in Shakespeare, and fre- 
 quently in other writers of that period. [It occurs twice 
 in Tancred and Gismunda (1591).] On the other hand, no 
 instance can be found of such a wonl as dis-staincd = 
 unstained. The fact that di.'italn'd, not distained, is the 
 reading of the Ff. is against the conjecture of Heath that 
 w^e should read : 
 
 I live distained, thou dishonoured. 
 
 On these grounds we prefer to read unstaind, which 
 makes the passage sense, at the cost of a slight alteration, 
 to altering the line with Heath, or inventing a word {dis- 
 stained), like Theobald. 
 
 51. Line 153: AVants wit in all one word, <tc. — So Ff. : 
 the many similar instances of incorrect grammar, to he 
 found in Shakespeare, and the writers of his time, induce 
 us to reject the alteration of wants to want. 
 
 52. Line 173 : Be it my wrong you are from me exemi'T, 
 i.e. you are separated, parted from me (as far as regards 
 your love). Mason explains exempt that, "as he was her 
 husband she had no power over him, and that he was 
 privileged to do her wrong ; " but this is surely a very far- 
 fetched explanation. 
 
 53. Line 177: Whose weakness, married to (/i)/.'<tkonckr
 
 ACT U. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT III. «ceiie 1. 
 
 st I te.— This is one of the few instances in which F. 4 lias 
 corrected a blunder of the three preceding folios, which 
 read here stranger, undoubtedly a mistake. 
 
 54. Line ISO: idle moss.— Idle means here barren, pro- 
 ducing no fruit. So in Othello, i. 3. 140: 
 
 antres \ .ist and deserts iW/e. 
 
 55. Lines 1S7, 188 : 
 
 Lentil I know this sure uncertainty, 
 
 I'll entertain the offer' d fallacy. 
 In W. W.'s Menechmi it is "Erotiuni the Courtizan" who 
 asks "Menechmus the Travailer" to dinner, in mistake for 
 his brother " Menechmus the citizen. " The scene is totally 
 destitute of any of those graceful poetic touches, with 
 which Shakespeare has adorned this one between Adriaua 
 and Antipholus. ilenechmus accepts the situation on 
 the most practical grounds: 
 
 .lUn. ... I can loose nothing-, souiewliat I shall gaine, perhaps 
 a.i;ood ludijing during my abode heere. — Hazlitt's Shak. Lib. part ii. 
 \o\. i. p. i6. 
 
 56. Line 192: We talk with goblins, OWLS and elviah 
 sprites — Dyce inserts none but before goblins, and omits 
 elvish. The line, as given in F. 1 : 
 
 We talke with goblins, owles, and sprights, 
 
 is undoubtedly defective; and in iii. 2. 161, Antipholus 
 of Syracu.se uses the same e-\pression: 
 
 There 's none but ivitclies do inhabit here. 
 F. 2 reads and ELVKS sprites, which Rowe altered to 
 elvish, the reading we have adopted as being the most 
 probable emendation. It may be noted that Shakespeare 
 uses the word elvish in Richard III. i. 3. 228: 
 
 Thou eh'ish-m.irk'd, abortive, rooting hog ! 
 
 Theobald changed owls into ouphes, a word used twice in 
 Merry Wives, iv. 4. 49, and v. 5. 61. There seems no 
 need for altering the text, however plausible the sug- 
 gestion maybe; as owls were supposed to suck the breath 
 and blood of children (Ovid's Fasti, lib. vi. lines 131-140). 
 They were regarded as more or less " uncanny" by several 
 nations; the Italian word for witch, Strega, is derived 
 from ■■^trix. .s-^-//;/.*, a screech-owl. Spenser couples owls 
 with ghosts in his Shepherd's Calendar; and other writers 
 of that time allude to them as more or less of the nature 
 of goblins. 
 
 57. Line 196 : Dromio, thou drone. — Ff. read " Dromio 
 thou Dcojirio." Theobald altered the second Dj'owio to 
 drone, an alteration necessary for the metre. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 58. Line 1: yoio must excuse ns all. — Pope omits all, 
 which is unnecessary both to the sense and metre. If it 
 is retained, the line forms an Alexandrine. 
 
 59. Line 4: earkanet. — kcarkatiet seems to have been 
 either a chain or collar of gold, worn round the neck, 
 whether set witli precious stones or not; sometimes it 
 meant a simple necklace of pearls. Cotgrave defines 
 carcan "a Carkanet or collar of gold, &c. worne about 
 the necke." 
 
 60. Lines 15-18: so it doth appear, ct-c— Theobald altered 
 iloth to don't; but surely without any reason. He thought 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Diomio meant to say he was an ass for making no resist- 
 ance, "because an ass, being kicked, kicks again." But 
 the donkey, from time immemorial, has been celebrated 
 for the patience with which he endures kicks and blows. 
 Dromio adds, "I should kick, being kicked," that is, "I 
 ought to kick," in which case, he says to his master, " You 
 would keep from my heels and beware of an a£S." But 
 it is because he deseives the name of ass, that he makes 
 no resistance. 
 
 61. Line 32: Jt/oiree.— Hawkins derives this word from 
 the French jl/ojnoii, " which signifies the gaming at dice 
 in masquerade, tlie custom and rule of which is, that a 
 strict silence is to be observed," and he would make the 
 word mean "a stupid blockhead, a stock, a post." But 
 it is, probably, a form of the old French word mo)iie, and 
 connected with the more common word muuimer. 
 
 62. Line 36: What patch is made our porter.^— The 
 sense of patch seems doubtful here; in line 32 above, it 
 may mean, as Steevens says, "a fool," "a jester;" but in 
 the three other passages of Shakespeare, in Merchant of 
 Venice, ii. 5. 46 : 
 
 The jwtch is kind enough, but a hui^'e feeder, — 
 
 in Mids. Xight's Dream, iii. 2. 9, "a crew of patches," 
 and in Macbeth, v. 3. 15, "What soldiers, patch?" it 
 certainly is used as a term of contempt for a low fellow 
 whose clothes would be often in patches; and in that 
 sense it is probably used in this passage, if not in the one 
 above. 
 
 63. Lines 46, 47 : 
 
 If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, 
 
 Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name or thy 
 
 name for A face. 
 Ff. read "for an ass." The correction in the text is one 
 of Collier's, and whether it be his own, or "The Old Cor- 
 rector's," it seems too obviously right to be rejected. 
 There is no particular sense in "for an ass;" while it 
 certainly destroys the rhyme, and renders the whole pas- 
 sage unnecessarily obscure. The text, as amended above, 
 preserves the rhyme and the obvious meaning of the 
 speaker. I have not been able to discover any instance 
 of tlie word ass being used as rhyming to such a word as 
 place, in which case it would have to be pronounced 
 ace. If any pun on ass and ace would make sense, the 
 old reading might be preserved. 
 
 64. Line 48: What a COIL is there !—V oil is used fre- 
 quently in old plays, sometimes for a disturbance, row, 
 quarrel, confusion ; sometimes merely for a blow. The 
 verb to coil is often used in the sense of to strike. 
 
 65. Line 54: you'll let us in, /HOPE?— Certainly a line 
 seems missing here, very likely one ending, as Jlalone 
 suggested, with a rope. Theobald coolly altered the 
 text to I trow, so as to make the line form a triplet with 
 the two succeeding lines. 
 
 66. Line 71 : Your cake is warm witMn; you stand here 
 in the cold.— Ff. read "your cake here is warm," Ac, the 
 word here having been, most probably, inserted, by mis- 
 take, from the second part of the line. 
 
 67. Line 72: to be so bought and sold.—X jiroverbia' 
 
 113 8
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue : 
 
 expression for being "taken in:" compare the well-known 
 passage in Richard 111. v. 3. 304, 
 
 Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, 
 
 1-or Dickon thy master is bought and sold. 
 
 68. Line 83: we'll pluck a CROW together.— The same 
 kiiul of pun is made in one of the comedies of Plautus. 
 Tyiularus (in the Captices), referring to the custom of 
 giving to patrician children birds of different kinds for 
 their amusement, says that he liad tantuin vjmjMm. 
 Upiipa signifies both "a hoopoe" and "a mattock." 
 
 69. Line 89: Once f/ii»-.— The meaning of tliis phrase, 
 which is tmdoubtedly peculiar, used, as it is here, abso- 
 lutely, is "once for all;" but the passage may be corrupt, 
 as Malone suggested, proposing "own this." The ex- 
 pression that s once occurs twice in Peele.e.^. in Edward I. , 
 •'I'll be Rdbin Hood, that's once" (Works, p. 393); it 
 evidently meant, as Dyce explains it, "that's flat." Tlie 
 phrase, as it stands, is very awkward: the proper reading 
 may be "weigh this." 
 
 70. Lines 89-91: of HER trisdom—on HER part.— Ff. 
 read ijoiir in both these passages; first corrected by Rowe. 
 
 71. Line 93: the doors are MADE against yoii. — This 
 expression to MAKE the door, i.e. "to make fast the door," 
 is still used in the Nortli of England. Pope altered made 
 to barr'd, quite unnecessarily. 
 
 72. Lines 96, 97 : 
 
 And, about evening, come yourself, alone, 
 To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
 Dyce, Cambridge Edd., and Globe Edd., all print these 
 two lines without any stop except the full stop at end. 
 We have followed the Var. Ed. 1S21. The use of the 
 comma, to mark the slight pause wliich the sense re(iuiies 
 in the delivery of a sentence, is most important to the 
 reader in ordinary prose works ; liow much more so in 
 dramatic writings, where the proper pause is as impor- 
 tant as the proper emphasis. The reader, or actor, witli 
 no stop to guide him, would, probably, deliver tliese two 
 lines ill sucli a manner as to be utterly unintelligible; at 
 any rate he would be justified in delivering tliein so 
 rapidly, as to defeat the object of tlie speaker; which is, 
 quietly and gravely, to impress upon Antipholus counsels 
 of moderation, and to dissuade him from hasty action. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 73. Enter LuciANA and Amipholus of Syracuse.— 
 Dyce here makes no division of scene, but says that 
 Luciaiia and Antipholus of Syracuse were supposed to 
 enter from the door of the house, as soon as the stage 
 had been left vacant by the dt parture of the otlier char- 
 acters. F. 1 here has Enter .Juliana, &c., a mistake cor- 
 rected by F. 2. 
 
 74. Line 3: love-springs, i.e. young shoots of love; com- 
 pare: 
 
 This canker that eats up Lore's tender sfriiig. 
 
 -.-\'enus and Adonis, line 656. 
 
 75. Line 4: ,SArt7Z iouc, in BUILDING, groiu so ruinous ?— 
 Ff. read "in buildings grow so ruinate;" which reading 
 incited various commentators to heroic efforts in the way 
 
 114 
 
 of emendation. In line 2 above, Theobald proposed 
 Antipholus hate; Heath, a nii/jiing hate; while Collier's 
 "Old Corrector " altered the words to unkind debate. By 
 the substitution of ruinous— a, word used by Shakespeare 
 five times (e.g. Two Gent, of Verona, v. 4. 9, Timon of 
 Athens, iv. 3. 465)— for ruinate, the rhyme is restored, and 
 the passage left undisfigured by wanton interi)olations. 
 
 76. Line 12: Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger.— The 
 whole of this speech of Luciana's has a tone of Sliake- 
 speare's maturer style; indeed there is a finish about tliis 
 short duologue, and a poetic vigour, whicli seem to indi- 
 cate Shakespeare had either carefully revised it, or be- 
 stowed especial pains upon it. 
 
 77. Line 21: make tis BUT believe.— Vl. read not; cor- 
 rected by Theobald. 
 
 78. Line 22: Being COMPACT of credit, i.e. being com- 
 pounded, or made entirely of credulity. Compare As You 
 Like It, ii. 7. 5: 
 
 If he, fowz/iif/of jars, grow musical. 
 
 79. Line 44 : Far more, far more to yon do I DECLINE.— 
 L^nuecessarily altered by Collier's "Old Corrector" to in- 
 cline. Decline liere means ' ' incline from her towards you." 
 It is more forcible than the ordinary word incline, as it 
 implies the act of turning away from his supposed wife 
 to her si^ster. The word decline is used by Shakespeare, 
 ill a somewhat peculiar sense, in the following passage: 
 
 Piety, and fear, 
 Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth. 
 
 Decline to your confounding contraries. 
 And let confusion live ! 
 
 — Tinion of Athens, iv. x. 15-21. 
 
 Dyce quotes an instance of an exactly similar use of the 
 word in Greene, "Tliat the love of a father, as it was 
 royall, so it ought to be impartiall, neither declining to 
 the one nor to the other, but as deeds doe merite." — 
 (Penelope's Web, Sig. C-4, ed. 1601.) 
 
 80. Line 46: thy SISTER'S flood of tears.— 1\ 1 reads 
 sister, which some editors prefer; the reading in the text 
 is that of F. 2. 
 
 81. Line 49: A nd as a bed / '// take them, and there lie. 
 — F. 1 reads "as a bud I 11 take thee." F. 2 altered bud 
 to bed, and Edwards first substituted them for thee. "As 
 a bud" has been defended by some commeutatdrs; but it 
 is very like nonsense. Dyce and Staunton, imlependentlj', 
 conjectured "and as a bride I'll take thee," but Dyce. in 
 his Second Edition, adopted the reading in the text, wliich 
 certainly seems to be the right one. 
 
 82. Line 54: Not mad, but MATED.— i.s. bewildered: so 
 Macbeth, v. 1. 86 : 
 
 My niiiul she has mated, and amaz'd my sight; 
 
 and again in tliis play, v. 1. 281 : 
 
 I think you all are mated, or stark tnad. 
 
 In spite of Malone's objection that, in the latter passage, 
 no play on the word is intended, it is very likely tliat here 
 Antipholus does intend a pun. 
 
 83. Line 66: for I AM thee.—Vo\>e suggested "I mean 
 thee." Capell (adopted by most modern editors) "I aim 
 thee." Above (line 63) he calls her "my sweet hope's 
 
 1
 
 T III. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF EEEORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 aim," and the repetition certainly seems rather awkward. 
 ■Were there such a word as atne, formed from amo, 
 through the French aimer, one might suspect that was 
 the real reading. Antipholus says, line 61 : 
 
 It is tliyself, tnine oivn self's better paTt, 
 
 SO that / aw thee might possibly, after all, be the right 
 reading, meaning " I am (inseparable from) thee." 
 
 84. Line 93: " Sir -reverence." — The vulgar form of 
 " save-reverence," i.e. salvd reverentid : compare Much 
 \ ' >. iii. i. 32, "I think you would have me say, saviiif/ your 
 
 rence, a husband." ilalone quotes Blount's Glosso- 
 _.aphy, which gives "salvd reverentid, saving regard or 
 respect . . . sir-revereiicc by the vulgar." This settles 
 tlie question ; or one might have taken it to be another 
 form of '• Your Reverence," or "Reverend Sir." 
 
 85. Line 105; FOR WHY, she st'jt'afs;— wrongly printed iu 
 
 Folios for jc/ii/.^— Shakespeare uses /or it'/(2/ = because, for 
 
 the reason that, in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, iii. 1. 
 
 09: 
 
 F'or 7vhy, the fools are mad, if left alone ; 
 
 r.nd it occurs, with tolerable frequency, in the old plays of 
 this period. 
 
 36. Line 111: hut her name AND three quarters. — Ff. 
 read is. 
 
 87. Line 126: arm'd and reverted, malciag war against 
 her HEIR.— F. 2 substituted hair for heir; but there is a 
 play on the word evidently intended, the allusion being 
 to the War of the League against Henry IV. of Xavarre, 
 to whose help Elizabeth had sent, iu 1591, a body of 4000 
 men under Essex. Tliere are other allusions, in the pas- 
 sage, which are best not explained. 
 
 88. Line 1 -10: who sent whole armadoes of cakeacks to be 
 BALLAST at her nose. — Ballast is here a participle. The 
 allusion to the Armada here, as in the name of "Don 
 Adriano de Armado" iu Love's Labour's Lost, points to 
 the play having been written when the invasion of the 
 Armada was fresh in people's minds. Carrack is a large 
 merchant-ship. So iu Othello, i. 2. 50: 
 
 /-?^t7. 'Faith he to-night hath boarded a land carrack: 
 If it prove lawful prize, he's niade for ever. 
 
 83. Line 151: transform'd me to a curtal dog, and made 
 hu' turn I the icheel. — Referring to the turnspit-dogs, a 
 race lately come into fashion again, but in a less useful 
 ciipacity thau that which they fulfilled in Shakespeare's 
 
 time. 
 
 90. Line 168: be guilty to self-urong.—Oi this constrnc- 
 ' tion Malone has given many instances ; one from 'Wiu- 
 ! ter's Tale, iv. 4. 549, 550 : 
 
 But as the unthought-on accident is ^itz'/ty 
 To wliat we wildly do. 
 
 ACT IV. ScKXK L 
 
 j 91. Line 8: Is GROWING to me by Antipholus.— i.e. is 
 , coming due to me from Antipholus: compare sc. 4, line 124, 
 of this same act, where Adriana says: 
 
 .•Vnd, knowing how the debt .^;vzt'j-, I will pay it. 
 
 Again, line 137: 
 
 Say, how ^TOTVs it due? 
 
 92. Line 17: HER confederates. — Ff, have their; cor- 
 rected by Rowe. 
 
 93. Line 21: / buy a thousand 2)ound a year ! I bvy a 
 rope.' Staunton notices the obscurity of this passage, 
 which no commentator appears to have explained. Cam- 
 bridge and Globe Edd. print the line: 
 
 I buy a thousand pound a year: I buy a rope — 
 
 which makes it more obscure. It may be noted that, in 
 i. 2. 55, 56, Dromio of Ephesus, when asked by Anti- 
 pholus of Syracuse for the money he gave him, says that 
 he had only had sixpence, and that he "had paid the 
 saddler ; " later in the same scene (lines 82-84) he says: 
 
 I have some njarks of yours upon my pate. 
 Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, 
 But not a thousand marks between you both. 
 
 Perhaps here he only means to say that, as he has no 
 money, he might as well try and buy a thousand pounds 
 a year, as buy a rope. Yet in sc. 4 of this act he returns 
 with the rope, and says (line 12): 
 
 Why, sir, I gave t/te money for the rope. 
 
 94. Line 28: the utmost CARAT. — F. 1 prints charect: 
 F.2, F. 3, F.iraccat. Cotgrave gives carat, ' 'a Carrat: among 
 goldsmiths and Mint-men, is the third part of an ounce; 
 among Jewellers or Stone-cutters, but the 19 part ; for 
 eight of them make but one sterlin, and a sterlin is the 
 24 part of an ounce." (19 must be a mistake for 192.) 
 Florio gives carato, " a weight or degree in Diamonds, 
 Pearls, Rubies, and Metals, called a Characf; also the 
 touch, the loy, or stint of refining of Gold or Silver." 
 
 95. Line 56: EITHER send the chain, or SESD 3iE BY some 
 token. — £i?^e?-is here a monosyllable,so Malone says. Pope 
 printed or. Send me by is altered by some editois to 
 send by me; but the expression " to send a person by a 
 token" was, according to Dyce, "a common enough 
 phrase in our early writers." He does not give any in- 
 stances, nor does Malone, except that of " £y the same 
 token," which has nothing to do with it. By is here 
 simply used for tcith. Compare the following passage 
 from Marston's Dutch Courtezan, iii. 1: 
 
 Mrs. MulUsriib. By -what token are you sent?— ^y no token! Nay 
 I have wit. 
 
 Cockledemoy. He sent me by tin same token, that he was dry shaved 
 this morning. — Works, vol. ii. p. 156. 
 
 Here there is an evident play upon the ordinary phrase, 
 by the same token. To send any one by a token might be 
 an elliptical expression for to send any one (recommended) 
 by a token. 
 
 96. Line 87: Then, sir, she bears away.—T. 1 has and 
 then; but the and is certainly redundant, as far as the 
 metre is concerned. 
 
 97. Line 98: You sent me, sir, for a rope's end as soon. 
 — Steevens inserted sir, but Malone would pronounce 
 rope's as a dissyllable. It would seem that the e mute 
 was often pronounced in the old dramatists: e.g. in 
 Appius and Virginia (1575) : 
 
 A virgin pure, a queen in life, 
 
 Whose state may be deplored ; 
 For why the queen o( chaste li.''e 
 
 Is like to be deflow'red. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. iv. p. 142. 
 
 115
 
 ACT IV. Scene -J. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT IV. Scciio 
 
 ACT lY. ScEXii 2. 
 
 98. Line 4: Loolc'd he or red or pale, ur sad or JIKKRY ?— 
 Ff. read merrilti: the three-syllaljle ending is objection- 
 able; and tlieie seems no reason wliy an adveil) should 
 be substituted for an adjective. The emendation adopted 
 in our text is originally Collier's. AValker also sug- 
 gested it. 
 
 99. Line 6: 0/ hits heart's meteors tilting in his face?— 
 Alluding to the meteors, or rather to the electrical clouds 
 often seen in the sky. wliicli resemble armies meeting to- 
 gether in the shock of battle. Milton, in 2nd Book of Para- 
 dise Lost, has: 
 
 As when to warn proud cities, war appears 
 Wag'd in the troubled sky, niiti artiiies rush 
 To battle in tin clouds. 
 
 There is a well-known legend of a spectral army, said 
 to appear over the tops of Skiddaw and Saddleback in 
 Cumberland, which had its origin in the same atmo- 
 spheric plienomenon. Staunton suggests that case in the 
 line above is a misprint for race; a very likely sugges- 
 tion. 
 
 100. Line 7: First he denied you had in him no right. — 
 For anotlier instance of this not unfretiuent use of the 
 double negative, compare the following passage: 
 
 You may deny tliat you were not tlie cause 
 Of n>y Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. 
 
 — Richard III. i. 3. 90, 91. 
 
 101. Line 27: Far from hernest the lapwing cries aioay. 
 —This well-known habit of the lapwing or "pee-wit" is 
 alluded to freciuently in the old writers, e.g. : 
 
 you resemble the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not. 
 —Lilly's Campaspe, ii. 2 (Works, vol. i. p. 109). 
 
 102. Line 33: -I devil in an everlasting garment hath 
 him.—X sergeant's buff leather garment was called dur- 
 ance, partly, it wouUl appear, on account of its everlast- 
 ing qualities, and partly in punning allusion to the occu- 
 pation of tlie wearer, namely, putting men in "durance 
 vile." (See Staunton's note.) Compare Beaumont's Woman 
 Hater, iv. 2: "Pandar. . . . I would quit this transitory 
 trade, get me an everlasting robe, sear up my conscience, 
 and turn sergeant" (Works, vol. ii. p. 444). 
 
 103. Line 35 : A fiend, a FAIRY, pitiless and rough. — Ff. 
 read /« iry. Theobald first altered it to fury, and has been 
 followed by many modern editors, including Dyce, the 
 Cambridge Edd., (^'c. The alleged ground for this alter- 
 ation is that a /(li/i/ could not be caUed pitiless and rough. 
 But, setting aside, for the moment, the purely mischievous 
 character of such fairies as Robin Goodfellow, Jack a- 
 Lantern, &c. , there is ample evidence, in the folk-lore of 
 various nations, of a belief in fairies who were decidedly 
 malignant and cruel. Tlie following passage in Milton's 
 Com us will occur to most readers. The two first lines are 
 wortli remarking as bearing upon this question of fairies 
 being included among evil or cruel spirits: 
 
 Some say no evil thing that w.ilks by niglit, 
 In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, 
 
 seems to have taken any pains to find out if fury is ivtr 
 applied to any one of the male sex. In all the passages 
 I have examined it is, invariably, applied to a female. 
 But does any editor propose to alter the line in Haml. : 
 
 And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad ; 
 The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike. 
 So/airy takes {i.e. strikes with lameness ordiseasiri, ; r 
 witch liath power to charm.— Hamlet, i. i. 161-163. 
 
 104. Line .39: A hound that runsCO\:iiTER. and yet dra /r.^ 
 PRY-FOOT well.— There is a double pun here. To nm 
 counter means to run on a false scent, but counter also 
 means a prison. Dry-foot (explained in foot-note on this 
 passage) is also a term used for one who lacks means. 
 
 105. Line 40: One that, BKFORE THE JLIKJMEXT, carrie,; 
 poor souls to HELL.— Tlie very worst part of the prison in 
 old times, where prisoners, who would not pay tlie jailer's 
 fees, were put, was called IJell. The phrase before ilic 
 judgment is supposed to allude to arrest by "mesne ]<if- 
 cess," or on a side issue from the original suit, before 
 judgment in the latter is pronounced. 
 
 106. Line 42: he is 'rested ON THE CASE.— "An action 
 upon the case, is a general action given for the redress of 
 a wrong done any man without force, and not especially 
 provided for by \a.w."— Grey (vol. i. p. 242). 
 
 107. Line 45: But 'is in a suit of buff uhich 'rested Inm 
 — So F. 1, F. 2 ; but I*'. 3, F. 4 read he 's, which most editors 
 follow. This elliptical form of expression is common in 
 Shakespeare, especially in the speeches of the more vul- 
 gar characters. 
 
 108. Line 61: // Time be in debt — Ff. read Jf I: the 
 reading in our text is Eowe's emendation. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 109. Line 11: And LAPLAND sorcerers inhabit hin- 
 Lapland appears to have enjoyed a reputation fm- the 
 cultivation of the black art. Milton talks of "Lapland 
 witches" (Paradise Lost, book ii.); and the following ]>as- 
 sage in tlie old play. Look About You, illustrates the same 
 
 belief : 
 
 Then nine times, like the northern Laplanders, 
 He backward circled the sacred font. 
 And nine times backward said his < 
 
 No goblin, or swartyhiyy of the mine 
 Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 
 
 But no commentator, who supports the reading fury, 
 116 
 
 And so turn'd witch. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. vii. p. 4' '-'. 
 
 In Iley wood's Witches of Lancashire, tlie word Laplands 
 is used for Witches (Works, vol. iv. p. 245). 
 
 110. Line 13: What, have you got the picture of <dd 
 ^(iamiicM'-ayjjaieH'rf.'— Theobald proposed to read, "Have 
 you got rid of the picture," <fcc. Certainly the passage is 
 not very intelligible. There does not seem to be any 
 authority for stating, as Mason does, that the dialectic or 
 slang phrase, "in buff," i.e. naked, was used in Sliakes- 
 peare's time. One explanation is that, as Adam was clad 
 in skins of beasts, so the sergeant, clad in buff, i.e. in 
 leather, resembled old Adam new apparell'd. In this case, 
 the words added by Theobald, or some similar ones, are 
 absolutely necessary. Or we may suppose Dioinio to baj 
 quibbling, and to mean, "Have you got the sergeant a new j 
 suit?" ill wliich case we must take the old Adam siniplyl
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 to refer to our first father, as he was dressed not before, 
 but after, the fall. 
 
 111. Line 25: gives them a FOB and 'rests them.—Vt. read 
 soh. Hanmer proposed hoh; Grant White stop; Staun- 
 ton sop. Tlie emendation in the text is Howe's. All the 
 modern dictionaries content themselves with giving fob, 
 "a tap, a light blow," on the authority of tliis single pas- 
 sage. I cannot find the word, in this sense, in any old 
 dictionary or glossary, or in any contemporary writer. 
 "Xo/ob,"is said to mean, to beat, to maltreat; but it 
 does not appear to occur in any other sense than that of 
 to cheat. It may be that to (jive a fob, means, to trieli. 
 Fob is not a satisfactory reading, but none of the otlier 
 proposed emendations seem to make any better sense; 
 and soh, tlie reading of the Folios, is nonsense. 
 
 112. Line 26: gives them suits o/ durance. — See note 102 
 in this same act. There is an obvious pun on the word 
 durance here. 
 
 113. Line 60: We'll mend our dinner here. — i.e. we wiW 
 buy something more for our dinner. 
 
 114. Line 62: SO bespeak a long spoon. — Ff. read or ; the 
 emendation is Capell's. 
 
 115. Line66:^i-oiy THEE,/eMd.'— F.l,F.2,F.3read then, 
 wliicli seems nonsense; F. 4 altered then to thou; thee 
 Dyce's suggestion) is probably the correct reading. 
 
 IIG. Line 84: forty ducats.— In an interesting note, 
 Staunton proves that forty was frequently used to express 
 a large number. Perhaps the mention of tliis number in 
 tlie Bible, in connection witli many important events, gave 
 rise to tliis peculiar use of it. The number forty is used 
 in the same manner in some Eastern languages. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 117. Line 14 : I'll serve you, sir, Jive hundred at the rate. 
 — This line in the Folio is given, evidently by mistake, to 
 Diomio of Ephesus. The Cambridge Edd. first suggested 
 the transferring it to the Officer, in whose mouth it seems 
 to have some propriety and meaning; in that of Dromio, 
 none. 
 
 118. Line 45 : TO PROPHESY, like the jmrrot, " BEW.\RE 
 THE ROPE'S-END." — Ff. read the prophesie; the alteration 
 is Dyce's. Parrots were taught, or taught themselves, in 
 .'Shakespeare's time as now-a-days, to make uncomplimen- 
 tary remarks. Butler, in Hudibras, alluding to a very 
 similar catchword of parrots, says, speaking of Ralpho : 
 
 Could tell what subtlest parrots mean. 
 
 What member 't is of whom tliey talk. 
 When they cry ro/^e, and walk, knave, walk. 
 
 119. Line 50: Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer. — 
 In the Folios Pinch is described, on his entry, as "a school- 
 master, calTil Pinch." Even in comparatively recent 
 times the village schoolmaster enjoyed the reputation of 
 
 ! a conjurer, that is, of one who could conjure devils out 
 
 \ of a man. Perhaps this was because he was the only man 
 
 • in the village, besides the priest, who could speak Latin ; 
 
 and Latin is the only tongue "understanded" of devils. 
 
 120. Line 63: are these your customers?— Dyce, I be- 
 
 lieve, is mistaken in saying (Few Notes to Shakespeare, 
 p. 32), "'your customers' meixn^ nothing more than the 
 people who frequent your house." He quotes Florio, 
 " Aventore, a comer or a frequenter to a place, a chap- 
 man, a customer." Both in Cotgrave and Florio, customer 
 is given only as meaning a collector of customs dues, 
 yabelliere (Ital.), yabellier (French), and a buyer, aventore 
 (Ital.), chaland (French). It is most probable, from the 
 context, that Antipholus uses the wurd in a bad sense; 
 later in this scene he calls his wife "dissembling harlot " 
 (line 104). 
 
 121. Line 153: fetch our STUFF /coj/i thence. — It is a 
 curious coincidence that the word stuff, in the sense of 
 baggage, is not used by Shakespeare except in this play; 
 and that we also find it in W. AV.'s Menechmi, "lie go 
 strait to the Inne and deliver np my accounts and all 
 your stuffe " (Hazlitt's Shak. Lib. part ii. vol. i. p. 37). 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 122. Line 46: And much MUCH different from the man 
 he was.— So F. 2, inserting the second much. If we accept 
 the reading of F. 1 And much different, we must put the 
 accent on the second syllable of different,— And much 
 different. 
 
 123. Line 51: Stv. kY'D his affection in rtnlairful love.— 
 This is the only instance of the use of the verb to stray, 
 in a transitive form, to be found in Shakespeare. I have 
 not been able to find a similar use of the word in any 
 contemporary writer. It may be that the verb is used in 
 this sense under the impiession that it is identical with 
 to straw = to streiv. 
 
 124. Line 66: In company, I often GLANCED it. -This line, 
 the ed of glanced, not being elided in F. 1, is quite 
 complete without the addition of at, which some of the 
 modern editors insert. The elliptical construction is far 
 from uncommon in writers of Shakespeare's period. 
 
 125. Line 69: The VENOM clam oxirs.— Venom is used as 
 an adjective in several other passages by Shakespeare; 
 e.g. in Richard III. i. 3. 291 : 
 
 His veitom tooth will rankle to the death. 
 
 126. Lines 79-81 : 
 
 But moody, moping, and dull melancholy, 
 Einsma7i to grim arid comfortless despair, 
 A7id at her heels, &c. 
 The first line in the Folio stands thus: 
 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 two syllables being evidently wanting: Hanmer first in- 
 serted moping, which will do as well as any other epithet. 
 Kinsman is here used as = akin generally, and not as a 
 masculine noun. Compare Merchant of Venice, iii. 2. 
 
 169-171 : 
 
 but now I was the lortt 
 
 Of this fair mansion, nursffr of my servants. 
 
 Queen o'er myself. 
 Some editors alter "at her heels" to "at their heels ;" but 
 her refers only to melancholy, and not also to despair. 
 
 127. Line 90: She did betray me to my i.wn reproof- 
 Certainly Adriana has some cause to complain of the 
 
 117
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1. 
 
 Abbess's mode of working up to her lecture against hen- 
 pecking, for she cunningly draws on Adriana to her own 
 moral destruction. There is a lifelike vigour about the 
 sketcli of a nagging wife in this passage, which rather fa- 
 vours the conjecture that Shakespeare did not leave Strat- 
 ford—and his wife— behind him, only for the purpose of 
 making liis fortune. The man who wrote the powerful 
 speech of the Abbess might well have tasted the bitter- 
 ness of domestic misery. 
 
 128. Line 121 : The place of DEATH and sorry execution. 
 —This is tliereailingof V. 3, F. 4, whichsubstituteriea^/i for 
 depth, the reading of F. 1, F. 2. Hunter says that " tlie 
 place of depth" meant Barathrum; but, in two passages 
 quoted from contemporary writers, that word evidently 
 means Hell. 
 
 129. Line 138: At your IMPORTANT letters.— This, use of 
 important for importunate may be found in JIuch Ado, 
 ii. 1. 74, "If tlie Prince be too important, tell him there 
 is a measure in everytliing." There is supposed to be a 
 reference in this passage to the "Court of Wards," which 
 was a great grievance in Shakespeare's time. By an 
 anachronism he represents Adriana as having been the 
 ward of the Duke, who, in exercise of his power as guar- 
 dian, gave her in marriage to Antipholus. An allusion 
 to these courts is found iu the old morality of Hycke 
 Scorner. 
 
 130. Line 140: TO TAKE ORDER FOR the icrongs.— This 
 phraie to take order for, i.e. to take measures for, occurs 
 several times in Shakespeare; e.g. 
 
 J will take order for her keeping close. 
 
 — Richard III. iv. 2. 53. 
 
 131. Line 148 : strong escape.— Qyc^, following Walker, 
 reads strange; but strong makes good sense; indeed, it is 
 more forcible than strange. 
 
 132. Line 175: NICKS him like a fool.— Fools were 
 cropped close, as we now crop convicts. Malone quotes 
 from a description of monks in an old pamphlet "by 
 S. R. Gent, 4to, 1598." "They are shaven and notched on 
 the head, like f voles." 
 
 133. Line 183 : To SCORCH j/ot«»-/ace.— Warburton altered 
 scorch to scotch, and many editors adopted his alteration; 
 but scorch makes quite as good sense. It does not neces- 
 
 sarily mean that he would "singe off Adriana's beard," as 
 Dyce sarcastically insists; he might disfigure her face liy 
 burning it, as easily as by scotching it. 
 
 134. Line 192 : When /BESTRID thee in the war*'.- Coin- 
 pare the following passage : 
 
 Three limes to-duy I liolp him to his horse. 
 Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off. 
 
 —II. Henry VI. v. 3.8. 
 
 135. Line 205: u-ith harlots feasted in my house.— 
 Uarlot is not unfrequently applied to a male, e.g. 
 
 for the harlot king 
 Is quite beyond mine arm. 
 
 — Winter's Tale, ii. 3. 4, 5. 
 
 136 Line 248: THEY left me and my man.— Ft. read 
 (here: amended, independently, by Collier and Walker. 
 
 137. Line 281 : all MATED.— See note 82 of this play. 
 Another form of this word, or perhaps, more strictly 
 speaking, a cognate word, amate, is found in contem- 
 porary writers more commonly than this, e.g. in Tancred 
 and Oismunda, 
 
 Than he whom never dread 
 
 Did once amate. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. vii. p. 79. 
 
 138. Lines 356-362.— This speech of the Duke's is 
 wrongly placed iu the Folio, before the preceding speeches. 
 Capell made the alteration. 
 
 139. Line 359: Besides his urging of her wreck at sea.— 
 Ff. read "Besides her urging," but -%;milia has not men- 
 tioned the wreck. A line or two have probably been lost 
 which originally followed this; unless the abruptness and 
 the aposiopesis are intentional. 
 
 140. Line 400 : TWENTY-FIVE years have I hut gone in 
 travail. — Ff. have thirty-three. Twenty-five is Tlieobald's 
 correction. It is easy to calculate the age of the twins 
 from -Egeon's speech in act i., where he says his youngest 
 boy left home at eighteen years, while in this scene (lines 
 320, 321) he says : 
 
 But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy. 
 Thou know'st we parted. 
 
 141. Line 400 : After so long grief, such FELICITY !— Ff. 
 read 'such nativity,' evidently a mistake from line 404. 
 Felicity is Hanmer's emendation. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 
 
 None. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED BUT NOT ADOPTED. 
 
 i. 1. 132. 1 hazarded the loss of him / loved. 
 ii. 1. 112. —so ANY man that hath a name. 
 iii. 1. 89. Your long experience of her wisdom 
 Weigh this. 
 
 118
 
 WOKDS PECULIAK TO THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 
 
 WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN COMEDY OF ERRORS. 
 
 Note.— The atklition of sub., adj., vei-b, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 
 
 used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 
 
 The compound words marked with an asterisk (*) are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 
 
 Abbess . 
 
 Aft 
 
 ■■{:. 
 
 Abbey-gate — v. 
 
 Apparently iv. 
 
 A-row V. 
 
 *Back-friend . . iv. 
 
 Ballast iii. 
 
 Balsaraum i . . . iv. 
 
 Barrenness.... iii. 
 
 *Bass-viol iv. 
 
 Bodied iv. 
 
 Buttoned-up . . iv. 
 
 Carkanet^ iii. 
 
 Chargeful iv. 
 
 Cherry-stone . . iv. 
 Countermands •' 
 
 (verb) iv. 
 
 CuckoUl-mad. . ii. 
 
 Dankish v. 
 
 *Dark-working i. 
 
 Debted iv. 
 
 Deep-divorcing ii. 
 
 Difeature *....-[ "■ 
 ( V. 
 
 Sc. Line 
 1 117 
 
 156 
 
 166 
 
 165 
 
 78 
 
 170 
 
 3" 
 
 141 
 
 89 
 
 123 
 
 23 
 
 20 
 
 34 
 
 4 
 29 
 71 
 
 37 
 
 58 
 
 247 
 99 
 31 
 
 140 
 
 1 Balsam occurs in Timon of 
 Athens, iii. 5. 110. 
 
 2 Occurs in Soun. Iii. 8. 
 
 3 Lucrece, 276. 
 
 < Also iu Venus and Adonis, 
 line 736. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Diviner iii. 2 144 
 
 Dry-foot iv. 2 39 
 
 Earthy-gross . . iii. 
 
 Elvish 5 ii. 
 
 Embellished. . . iii. 
 
 E.>:cludes i. 
 
 Fallacy ii. 
 
 Falsing 6 ii. 
 
 Fob (sub.) iv. 
 
 Fool-begged ... ii. 
 
 Foolisliness.. .. i. 
 
 Fortune-teller . v. 
 
 Gilders . 
 
 Handwriting 
 Heady-rash.. 
 Hollow-eyed. 
 Hoy 
 
 111. 
 
 2 34 
 
 2 192 
 
 2 137 
 
 1 10 
 
 188 
 95 
 
 ( i. 1 8 
 
 ■ "( iv. 1 4 
 
 Glimmer (sub ) v 1 315 
 
 Grime iii. 2 106 
 
 Ill-faced iv. 2 
 
 5 Elvish-mark'd (not hyphened 
 iu F. 1) occurs in Richard III. 
 i. S. 228. 
 
 6 Used as a verb. In Romeo 
 and Juliet, iii. 1. 182, and in 
 Cymbeline, ii. 3. 74, false is ap- 
 liarentl.v used as an adjective, 
 but I'eiiiaps may have been in- 
 tended as a verb. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Incivility iv. 4 49 
 
 ( i. 1 120 
 \ i. 2 38 
 Intricate v. 1 269 
 
 Inquisitive. 
 
 V. 
 
 1 239 
 
 Kitchened 
 
 *Kitchen-maid iv. 
 
 *Kitchen-vestal iv. 
 
 *Latter-born . . i. 
 
 Life-preserving v. 
 
 *Living-dead . . v. 
 
 Love springs . . iii. 
 
 Slome iii. 
 
 Monstrously. . . v. 
 
 *Morris-pike . . iv. 
 
 Procrastinate . 
 
 Raft 
 
 Rope-maker . . . 
 
 Saddler 
 
 Sap-consuming 
 
 Scissors 
 
 Seafaring 
 
 *Secret-false. . . 
 Self-harming".. 
 *Self-wrong . . . 
 
 415 
 
 1 79 
 
 1 83 
 
 1 241 
 
 2 3 
 
 1 32 
 
 1 11 
 
 3 28 
 
 New-apparelled iv. 3 14 
 
 i. 1 159 
 
 348 
 93 
 
 56 
 312 
 175 
 81 
 15 
 102 
 168 
 
 7 Sdf-harming. In Richard II. 
 ii. 2. 3 Ff. read self -harming ; 
 Q. 1, Q. 2 read life-harming. 
 
 Act Sc, 
 
 SereS iv. 2 
 
 Sharp-looking.. v. 1 
 
 Shoulder-clapper iv. 2 
 
 Shrewish iii 
 
 *Sinking-ripe. . i 
 
 Soul-killing.... i 
 
 Spares i. 
 
 StigmaticaUo. . iv. 
 
 Strayed (trans.) v 
 
 Strumpetedn.. ii. 2 
 
 Sunder v. 1 
 
 Sweet-savoured ii. 2 
 
 Truant (verb)., iii. 2 
 
 Undishonoured ii. 2 
 
 Undisposed i. 2 
 
 Undividable. . . ii. 2 
 
 Unmoved 1- ii. 1 
 
 Unviolated. . .. iii. 1 
 
 Unwed 13 ii. i 
 
 *Wedding-ring ii. 2 
 
 *Well-acquainted iv. 3 
 
 Well-dealing.. i. 1 
 
 Wind-obeying . i. 1 
 
 Line 
 19 
 
 240 
 37 
 
 78 
 100 
 80 
 22 
 51 
 146 
 249 
 119 
 
 148 
 80 
 
 124 
 32 
 
 88 
 26 
 
 64 
 
 8 Used as an adjective ;— as a 
 substantive occurs in Hamlet, ii. 
 2. 337, and in Macbeth, v. 3. 23. 
 
 9 In the sense of superfluous. 
 v> Stigmatic (as sub.) in II. 
 
 Henry VI. v. 1. 215, and HI. 
 Henry VI. ii. 2. 136. 
 
 11 Sonn. Ixvi. 6. 
 
 12 Sonn. xciv. 4. 
 
 13 I'ilgrini, 304. 
 
 119
 
 THE 
 
 TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 NOTES AND INTEODUC'TION 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL.
 
 DRAMATLS PERSON. E. 
 
 Duke of Milan. 
 
 Valentine, ) , ^, , , ,r ' 
 
 • the two (Tentlemen of v ei-ona. 
 Proteus,' ) 
 
 Antonio,^ father to Proteus. 
 
 TuuRio, a foolish Lord ; in love with Silvia. 
 
 Sir Eglamour, a kiiii^ht vowed to chastity; a friend of Silvia. 
 
 Host (in Avhose house, at Milan, Julia lodges). 
 
 Speed, ) , . , (to Valentine. 
 
 ; clownish servants < _, 
 Launce, ) ( to Proteus. 
 
 Panthino,-' servant to Antonio. 
 
 First \ , 
 
 Second !■ Outlaw, < Members of a band of Outlaws between ]Milan and Mantua. 
 
 Third ) i 
 
 Julia, betrothed to Proteus ; afterwards disguised as Sebastian. 
 Silvia, daughter of the Duke of Milan ; in love with Valentine. 
 LucETTA, waiting-woman to Julia. 
 
 Servants, Musicians, Outlaws, &c. 
 
 Scene — Partly in Verona, partly in jNIilan, and i)artly in a forest 
 between Milan and Mantua. 
 
 Historical Period: about the middle of the sixteenth century; any time from 1520 to 1560. 
 
 TIME OF ACTION. 
 
 The time of this i>lay comprises seven days. 
 
 Day 5 : Act 11. Scenes 6 and 7; Act III. and Act IV. 
 Scene 1. — Interval not less than a week, includ- 
 ing Julia's journey to jMilan. 
 
 Day 1: Act I. Scenes 1 and 2. — Interval: about a 
 
 month. 
 Day 2: Act I. Scene 3; Act II. Scene 1. 
 Day 3 : Act II. Scenes 2 and 3. — Interval : Proteus's i Day 6 : Act IV. Scene 2. 
 
 journey to Milan ; say a week. Day 7 : Act IV. Scenes 3 and 4 ; Act V.'' 
 
 Day 4 : Act II. Scenes 4 and 5. — Interval of a few days. 1 
 
 1 Ptotheus in Ff. - A)ithonio in Ff. 
 
 3 PanthioH in Ff. 
 
 122 
 
 ■< The above is Mr. Daniel's arrangement, except one or 
 two slight alterations witli regard to the intervals.
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 LITERARY HISTORY. 
 
 This play does not seem to have been printed 
 before it ajspeared in the Folio of 1623, nor 
 indeed to have been entered on the Stationers' 
 Register before that date. It is mentioned 
 by Meres in Palladis Tamia (15.98). I cannot 
 agree with some of the critics in placing this 
 comedy as the eai'liest of Shakespeare's original 
 productions — that is to say, of pieces not im- 
 mediately adapted from previously existing 
 dramas. It seems, decidedly, to be later than 
 Love's Labour 's Lost and The Comedy of 
 Errors. However, it is, undoubtedly, one of 
 his early works. The source, to which he was 
 indebted for some of the incidents, is most 
 certainly the " Diana " of George de Monte- 
 mayor (a Poiiiuguese poet and romance 
 writer, born 1.520, died 1562). Of this work 
 Bartholomew Yong published a translation in 
 1598; but Farmer mentions another trans- 
 lation by Thomas Wilson, which he says was 
 published two or three years before: and 
 Yong, in his preface, obsei'ves that the trans- 
 lation had been lying by him finished some 
 sixteen years : it had probably, like many 
 other MSS. of this time, been privately circu- 
 lated amongst friends. Yong also mentions 
 that "Edward Paston, Esquire," had trans- 
 lated some i^arts of " Diana." It appears, from 
 the " Eevels' Accounts," that there was a play, 
 acted by Her Majesty's Servants at Green- 
 wich " on the Sondaie next after newe yeares 
 dale at night" in 1584-5, entitled "The 
 History of Felix and Philiomena," which was 
 most probably founded on the same story, 
 as Don Felix is the name of the faithless lover 
 of Felismena, a shepherdess who figures in 
 the "Diana" of Montemayor. Collier pub- 
 lished part of the story, under protest, in his 
 " Shakespeare's Liljrary; " insisting that Shake- 
 
 speare could not have derived any portion of 
 this play from that source. Any one who 
 will read carefully the story of the shepherdess 
 Felismena, as given in Hazlitt's edition of 
 "Shakespeare's Library" (part i. vol. i. ), 
 cannot fail to see that the author of The Two 
 Gentlemen of Verona must, at any rate, have 
 known that story in some form or other. The 
 scene, where Lucetta gives Julia the letter of 
 Proteus, is evidently copied from Felismena's 
 account of her receiving Don Felix's letter 
 from her maid Eosina. Felismena assumes a 
 man's dress, and follows Don Felix to the 
 court of Augusta Csesarina: she stops at an 
 inn, and at midnight her host calls her to hear 
 some music; then she hears Don Felix serenade 
 Celia. The next day she gets herself engaged 
 as page to Don Felix, and carries his letters 
 and presents to Celia. There are several little 
 touches in this story which have suggested 
 some of the dialogue of this play to Shake- 
 speare; but he has, as he always did, very 
 much improved on the original. Other sources, 
 whence Shakespeare may have taken some of 
 his incidents, have been suggested: amongst 
 others, Sidney's Arcadia, and Bordello's Apol- 
 lonius and Sylla ; the latter, by the way, was 
 formerly supj^osed to have furnished the origin 
 of Twelfth Night. I do not think the sugges- 
 tion, that Shakespeare was at all indebted to 
 Sidney's Arcadia for the incident of Valentine 
 consenting to lead the outlaws, is worth much 
 consideration. We may take it that the play 
 was written some time between 1591 and 
 1596. Though Hanmer and Theobald both 
 pronounce it to be spurious, they would pro- 
 bably have repented of their rash judgment, 
 had they lived long enough. There is not 
 the slightest evidence, internal or external, 
 for attributing it to any one but Shakespeare. 
 It is probable that the title of this play was 
 123
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 originally "The Gentlemen of Verona;" at 
 least it is by this name Mei'es mentions it in 
 1598; and Kirkman, as late as 16G1, inserts 
 it in his list of plays under the same title. 
 
 STAGE HISTORY. 
 
 We have no special record of the perform- 
 ance of this play during Shakespeare's life- 
 time. It must have been acted before 1598, 
 or Meres would not have mentioned it. No 
 reference to it occurs either in Henslowe's or 
 in Pepys' Diary. The first jterformance re- 
 corded by Genest is '22nd December, 17()2, at 
 Drury Lane. This was an alteration of Shake- 
 speare's play by Victor, who introduced, like 
 most of those mutilators, or would-be embel- 
 lishers of our great poet, an intolerable amount 
 of rubbish of his own composition. His at- 
 temj)ts to improve the story made it confused 
 and incomi)rehensible. In the last act he had 
 the audacity to add two short scenes for the 
 sake of bringing Launce and Speed on the stage 
 again, these two characters Ijeing played by 
 Yates and King respectively. The well-known 
 names of Holland, Moody, Mrs. Yates, and 
 Miss Poi)e also appear in the cast. This per- 
 version of Shakespeare was performed five 
 times with success; on the sixth representa- 
 tion for the benefit of Victor, " the author of 
 the altei'ations," a serious riot took place ; the 
 leader was one Fitzpatrick, a personal enemy 
 of Garrick ; and the professed object of the 
 rioters was the restoration of the half-jjrice 
 admission (see Davies' Life of Garrick, vol. ii. 
 chap. xxxi.). The next representation of the 
 play would seem to have been at Covent Gar- 
 den on 13th April, 1784, for Quick's benefit. 
 This was the original play, with slight altera- 
 tions. It appears to have been acted three 
 times at Covent Garden in January, 1790; 
 and on 21.st April, 1808, it was revived at the 
 san)e theatre, the version being one by John 
 Kemble, ])artly taken from Victor's alteration, 
 but containing some additional lines of his 
 own. Kemble took the part of Valentine, 
 for which he was eminently unsuited — a fact 
 of which he himself must have been con- 
 scious, for he altered the e])ithet "youthful," 
 applied to Valentine in act iii. scene 1, to "con- 
 fident." That version was only acted three 
 124 
 
 times : in fact this l)lay never seems to have 
 attained much success on the modern stage, at 
 any rate till it was produced in the form of 
 an opera at Covent Garden in 1821, under 
 the management of Charles Kemble. This 
 " degradation " of Shakesjieare's play was 
 executed by one Reynolds; but the actor- 
 manager must be held responsible for its 
 production. As many as fourteen songs, glees, 
 and choruses were introduced. The piece was 
 turned into a spectacle containing a Repre- 
 sentation of the Carnival in the Square of 
 Milan, " in which," to quote the Play-bill, 
 "takes i)lace a Grand Emblematical Proces- 
 sion of the Seasons and the Elements:" "Cleo- 
 patra's Galley" being introduced as "sailing 
 down the Eiver Cydnus" and conducted by 
 Thetis ; also, " the Palace of the Hours, and 
 the Temple of Apollo." 
 
 On the first night of the introduction of 
 this scene, and the third night of the re- 
 vival, "The machinery of the Carnival wjis 
 wretchedly managed ; two wings of the Palace 
 of the Houi'S partly and suddenly disappeared ; 
 and a ludicrous circumstance occurred to a 
 carpenter, who, invading the territories of 
 pleasure without sufficient caution, made his 
 debut to the audience in an unwilling somerset 
 over the clouds, and remained for some time 
 with his heels kicking in the air, to the great 
 amusement of the admiring beholders. The 
 boat which was to bear the fugitives from 
 Milan, met with so sudden a check that its 
 rower was capsized into the stream, and 
 finding his attempts to set his vessel afloat 
 quite fruitless, he with a great deal of sang 
 froiil made his exit through the waves." 
 
 This remarkable production ran twenty-nine 
 nights. The names of Liston, Farren, and 
 Miss M. Tree are all found in the cast. 
 
 This play was included among the revivals 
 of Mr. Phelps at Sadlers' Wells. It is many 
 years now since it was represented on the 
 stage. 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 This is the first of his plays in which 
 Shakespeare seems to have tried to strike out 
 for himself an original line. There is little 
 imitation except in the comic scenes; those
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 still bear traces of the influence of Lilly. 
 The play is remarkable as containing little 
 that can well be omitted in representation. 
 Although carelessly constructed in parts, it 
 is a much better acting jilay than Love's 
 Labour's Lost or Midsummer Night's Dream; 
 and even than some of his much later pro- 
 ductions. Shakespeare does not appear to 
 have rewritten any jjortions of this play, as he 
 undoubtedly did parts of Love's Labour's 
 Lost; l)ut of the incidents in it and of the 
 ideas contained in some of the characters he 
 made much subsequent use. In The Merchant 
 of Venice the scene between Portia and Ne- 
 rissa was evidently suggested by that between 
 Julia and Lucetta; while Viola, in Twelfth 
 Night, is really an expansion of the former of 
 these two characters. The chief progress made 
 by Shakespeare in this play is with regard to 
 all his female characters, and to one, at least, 
 of his humorous ones. Silvia has more moral 
 beauty even than Juliet. She and Julia are 
 very much in advance, as far as chai-acteriza- 
 tion goes, of Adriana and Luciana; to say 
 nothing of such lay figures as the Princess and 
 her companions in Love's Labour 's Lost. 
 Were the male characters in this play as well 
 drawn as the female characters, it would 
 have been decidedly more pojjular on the 
 stage. Valentine and Proteus afford but little 
 opportunities to the actors; the former is supe- 
 rior, in every resjject, to his friend; but his 
 fatal offer to give up his love, in the last act, 
 robs him of all the sympathy which his former 
 nobility of conduct had earned for him. Pro- 
 teus is the precursor of those admirable satires 
 on respectable villainy of which Bertram, in 
 All 's Well that Ends Well, is the completest 
 tyj)e ; while Claudio and Lucio, in Much Ado 
 about Nothing and Measure for Measure, are 
 more subtly -drawn specimens of the same 
 delightful genus. Proteus is a thoroughly 
 despicable cad; but being a handsome young 
 man of good birth, according to the principles 
 of di'amatic justice all his sins are forgiven 
 him, and he is rewarded with the hand of a 
 girl very much too good for him. It is im- 
 possible not to recognize some resemblance 
 in the compliant spirit displayed in Sonnets 
 xl. xli. xlii. — where Shakespeare alludes to 
 
 having been supplanted by his friend in the 
 affections of his misti'ess, — and the exaggei'ated 
 unselfishness which prompts Valentine to make 
 the impidsive offer surrendering Silvia to Pro- 
 teus. But such self-sacrifice finds little sym- 
 pathy in poetry intended for tlie study, and 
 still less in any work intended for the stage. 
 Nevertheless, there is something in the gener- 
 osity of Valentine, in the trustful confidence 
 which he displays towards his unworthy friend, 
 that endears him to our hearts, and makes us 
 rejoice that he is rewarded with so noble a 
 wife as Silvia. It is possible that, when draw- 
 ing the character of Proteus, Shakespeare had 
 in his mind the disloyalty and ingratitude 
 with which the young, handsome, high-born 
 W. H. had treated him.'^ 
 
 The character of Sir Eglamour, if a very 
 slight sketch, embodies a beautiful idea of 
 perfect chivalry. Of the other male chaiac- 
 ters, with the exception of Launce, not much 
 can be said. Thurio is a mere shadow, which 
 the riper humour of Shakespeare developed 
 into Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Conceding, how- 
 ever, to this early work of ShakesjDeare the 
 utmost praise that it deserves, one cannot, 
 without being guilty of extravagance, blind 
 one's self to its immense inferiority to his 
 later work. How insignificant does the scene 
 between Silvia and Julia appear by the side 
 of that between Viola and Olivia! It is im- 
 possible to tolerate even the suggestion of a 
 parallel, such as some critics have hinted at, 
 between Julia and Imogen. The only point 
 of resemblance between the two characters is 
 that they both put on boy's clothes. 
 
 With regard to the humorous elements in 
 the play, Launce with his dog is superior to 
 Launcelot Gobbo and his old father. In his 
 early periods Shakespeare gives us no such 
 worthy specimen of his comic power, with the 
 exception of the Nurse in Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 1 These remarks, as will be seen, are based on the 
 belief that tlie sonnets of Shakespeare are not mere 
 poetical e.xercises, but more or less revelations of his 
 inner life. The extraordinary theory that they are 
 detached poems, inspired by no real events in Sliake- 
 speare's life, and having no connection between one 
 another, is a theory which offers a very easy way of 
 getting rid of the difficulties that beset tlie sonnets, but 
 to my mind is utterly untenable. 
 125
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 On the whole, it may be said of this phiy 
 that, Hke The Comedy of Errors, it is written 
 exckisively with a view to the stage. What 
 poetical gems may be found in it are with 
 difficulty detached from the context. The 
 action proceeds almost uninterruptedly, except 
 for the tedious fooling of Launce and Speed 
 in some of the comic scenes. The plot is ill- 
 managed, especially the denouement, which 
 is abrupt and somewhat careless. The situa- 
 tions are not ;is skilfully devisetl as those of 
 The Comedy of Errors; but the chief characters 
 are more or less symi)athetic; and the incidents 
 of the story iU'e sufficiently interesting to fix 
 the attention of an audience. It may seem 
 fanciful to trace throughout this play the in- 
 fluence of the country rather than that of the 
 town on Shakespeare's style; but there is cer- 
 tainly less knowledge of character than obser- 
 vation of nature displayed in the imagery of 
 thi:j play. It would seem that, when he w'as 
 12(5 
 
 writing it, the fields and wootls of Stratford- 
 on-Avon were fresher in Shakespeare's mind 
 than the busy life of London. 
 
 Assuming that The Two Gentlemen of 
 Verona was an earlier work than Romeo and 
 Juliet, we have in this play the first instance 
 of Shakespeare's fondness for Italy as the 
 country in which to place his scene. There 
 is not so much local colour as in The Taming 
 of the Shrew, or The Merchant of Venice; and 
 the essentially English character of Launce 
 and Speed is perhajjs moie strongly marked 
 than in the case of Grumio and Ljxuncelot 
 Gobbo; but the question already arises in our 
 minds, whether Shakespeare's acquaintance 
 with Italy was derived from personal expe- 
 rience or merely from books. This is a point 
 which cannot be discussetl at this stage of our 
 work, as it belongs more fitly to the Life of 
 Shakespeare.
 
 f t I, f *. 
 
 ■^ 
 
 -2i>, 
 
 ^'/^ 
 
 ^/i/' 
 
 
 
 1; 
 
 
 ra?. How use doth breed a habit In a man ! 
 These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods, 
 I better brook than flourishing reopled towns. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 ScEXE I. Verona. An open place in the citij. 
 
 Enter Valextixe and Proteus. 
 
 Yal. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus : 
 Home-keeijing youth have ever homely wits. 
 Were "t not ati'ectiou chains thy tender days 
 To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, 
 I rather woiUd entreat thy company 
 To see the wonders of the world abroad. 
 Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home, 
 Wear out thy youth with shapeless^ idleness. 
 But since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive 
 
 therein, 
 Even as I would, when I to love begin. lO 
 
 Pro. Wilt thou be gone ? Sweet Valentine, 
 
 adieu I 
 Think on thy Proteus, when thou hajjly see'st 
 Some rare note- worthy object in thy traA^el : 
 Wish me jjartaker in thy happiness. 
 When thou dost meet good haji; and in thy 
 
 danger, 
 
 1 Shapeless, purposeless. 
 
 If evei' danger do environ thee. 
 
 Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, 
 
 For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. 
 
 Val. And on a love-book pi'ay for my 
 
 success ? 
 Pro. Upon some book I love I'll pray for 
 thee. 20 
 
 Val. That's on some shallow story of deep 
 love : 
 How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. 
 Pro. That 's a deeji story of a deeper love ; 
 For he was more than over shoes in love. 
 Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in 
 love. 
 And yet you never swimi the Hellespont. 
 Pro. Over the boots ? nay, give me not the 
 
 boots.- 
 Val. 1 win not, for it boots thee not. 
 Pro. No?— what? 
 
 Val. To be in love, where scorn is bought 
 with groans; 
 
 - The boots, the torture so called. 
 127
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one nionieiit's 
 mirth ao 
 
 With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: 
 If haply won, perhaps a hajjless gain; 
 If lost, why then a grievous labour won; 
 However,^ but a folly bought with wit, 
 Or else a wit by folly vanquished. 
 
 Pro. So, by your circumstance,- you call 
 
 me fool. 
 1'';/. So, by your circumstance,^ I fear 
 
 you "11 prove. 
 I'ri). 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love. 
 Vid. Love is your master, for he masters 
 you : 
 And he that is so yoked by a fool, 40 
 
 Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. 
 Pru. Yet writers say, as in the sweetest 
 bud 
 The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
 Inhal)its in the finest wits of all. 
 
 Viil. And writers say, as the most forward 
 bud 
 Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
 Even so by love the young and tender wit 
 Is turu'd to folly, blasting in the bud. 
 Losing his verdure even in the prime 
 And all his fair effects of future hopes. oO 
 
 But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, 
 That art a votary to fond desire 1 
 Once more adieu I my father at the road* 
 Expects my coming, there to see me ship])'d. 
 Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valen- 
 tine. 
 Vol. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take 
 our leave. 
 To Milau^ let me hear from thee by letters 
 ( )f thy success in love, and what news else 
 Betideth here in al)sence of thy friend ; 
 And I likewise Avill visit thee with mine. 60 
 Pro. All hajjpiness liechance to thee in 
 
 Milan ! 
 Val. As much to yuu at home I and so, 
 farewell. [^Exit. 
 
 Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love : 
 He leaves his friends to dignify them more ; 
 1 leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. 
 
 ' However, in any case. 
 
 - Circuuutance, circumstantial deduction. 
 =' CireiiiiiKtance, conduct. ■• Road, liailiour. 
 
 s Tu Milan, by letters (addressed) to Milan. 
 1^8 
 
 Thou, Julia, thou liast metamor))hos'd me, m 
 Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, 
 AVar with good counsel, set the world at 
 
 nought : 
 Made wit with niusing weak, heart sick with 
 
 thought. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. Sir Proteus, save you I Saw you 
 
 my master? 70 
 
 Pro. But now he paited hence, to embark 
 
 for Milan. 
 Speed. Twenty to one then he is sliijijAl 
 already, 
 And I have play'd the shee})" in losing him. 
 
 l^ro. Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, 
 An if the shejjherd be a while away. 
 
 Sp>eed. You conclude that my master is a 
 
 shei)herd, then, and I a sheep ? 
 Pro. I do. 
 
 Speed. Why then, my horns are his horns, 
 
 whether I wake or sleej). so 
 
 Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a 
 
 sheep. 
 Speed. This proves me still a sheeji. 
 Pro. True; and thy master a .s]iej)her(l. 
 Speed. Nay, that I can deny by a circum- 
 .stance. 
 
 Pro. It shall go hard but I '11 prove it by 
 another. 
 
 Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and 
 not the sheejj the shepherd ; but I seek my 
 master', and my master seeks not me : there- 
 fore I am no sheep. 91 
 J*ro. The sheep for fodder follow the shep- 
 herd ; the shepherd for food follows not the 
 sheep: thou for wages followe.st thy master; 
 thy master for wages follows not thee : there- 
 fore thou art a slieej). 
 
 Speed. Such another pi'oof will make me 
 cry " baa." 
 
 Pro. But, dost thou hear? gav'st thou my 
 letter to Julia ? lOO 
 
 Speed. Ay, sir: QI, a lost mutton, gave/ 
 your letter to her, a lac'd mutton," and she,/ 
 a lac'd mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing ' 
 for my labour. ' 
 
 "^ Sheep, pronounced here .ship, for tlie sake of the pun. 
 ' Lac'd mutton, courtezan.
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Sceuo 1. 
 
 } Fro. Here 's too small a pasture for such 
 ? store of muttons. 
 
 } Speed. If the ground be overcharg'd, you 
 ^were best stick her. 
 
 ) Pro. Nay : in that you are astray, 't were 
 best pound you. no 
 
 Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall) 
 serve me for carrying your letter. ^ 
 
 Fro. You mistake; I mean the pound, — a.> 
 pinfold. / 
 
 Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it' 
 over and over, US'* 
 
 Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan '. 
 Val. As much to you at home ! and so, farewell. 
 
 VT is threefold too little for cari'ying a letter to 
 I your lover. ] 
 
 Fro. But what said she? [Speed nods.] 
 Did she nod? 
 Speed. [JVoddinff] Ay. 
 Fro. Nod — Ay — why, that 's noddy. 
 Speed. You mistook, sir; I say, she did 
 nod : and you ask me if she did nod ; and I 
 say, "Ay." 
 
 Fro. And that set together is noddy. 1 22 
 '( ^ Speed. Now you have taken the pains to 
 ^set it together, take it for your jjains.^ 
 
 1 TaJce it for your pains, i.e. take the title of "noddy" 
 or "fool" for your pains. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Fro. No, no; you shall have it for l)earing; 
 the letter. / 
 
 Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to^ 
 bear with you. 
 
 Fro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; \ 
 having nothing but the word "noddy" iovl 
 my pains. 131 < 
 
 Fro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick ( 
 wit. 
 
 slow purse. ^ 
 
 Fro. Come, come, o])en the matter in( 
 
 brief : what said she ? ^ 
 
 Speed. Open your pui'se, that the money ^ 
 129 9
 
 ACT I. Sccue 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT. I. Scene 2. 
 
 ami tlie iiiiitter inay be Loth at once de- 
 livered. 
 
 Pro. ] Well, .sir, here i.s for your i)ains. 
 What said she '. 140 
 
 Spent. Truly, sir, I think you '11 hardly wdn 
 her. 
 
 Pro. Why, couldst thou perceive so much 
 from her? 
 
 Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all 
 fx'om her ; no, not so much as a ducat for de- 
 livering your letter : and being so hard to me 
 that brouglit your mind, I fear she '11 prove as 
 :hard to you in telling your mind. QGive her 
 >no token but stones; for she 's as hard as steel. 
 \ Pro. What said she? nothing'? 150 
 
 ( Speed. No, not so much as " Take this for 
 ^thy pains." To testify your bounty, I thank 
 Syou, you have testern'd^ me; in requital 
 \ whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: 
 i and so, sir, I '11 commend you to my master.] 
 Pro. Go, go, be gone, to save your ship 
 from wreck. 
 Which cannot perish having thee aboard. 
 Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. 
 
 l^Exit Speed. 
 I must go send some better messenger : 
 I fear my Julia would not deign^ my lines, leo 
 Receiving them from such a worthless post. 
 
 {E.mt. 
 
 Scene II. The same. Garden of Jidia^s house. 
 
 Enter Julia and Lucetta. 
 
 Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, 
 Wouldst thou, then, counsel me to fall in love % 
 LvjC. Ay, madam, so you stumble not un- 
 
 heedfully. 
 Jid. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen 
 That every day with paiie encounter me. 
 In thy opinion which is worthiest loA^e? 
 
 Luc. Please you repeat their names, I '11 
 show my mind 
 According to my shallow simple skill. 
 
 Jul. What think'st thou of the fail- Sir 
 
 Eglamour? 
 Liic. As of a knight well-spoken, neat and 
 fine ; lo 
 
 1 Testern'd me, given me sixpence. 
 - Deign, deign to accept. 
 
 130 
 
 But, were I you, he never should be mine. 
 Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mer- 
 catio? 1-' 
 
 Luc. Well of his wealth ; but of himself, 
 
 so so. 
 Jul. What think'st thou of the gentle Pro- 
 teus? 
 Luc. Lord, lord 1 to see what folly reigns 
 
 iu us ! 
 Jul. How now I what means this jia.'ision 
 
 at his name ? 
 Liic. Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing 
 shame 
 That I, unworthy body as I am. 
 Should censure'' thus on lovely gentlemen. 
 Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the 
 rest '. 20 
 
 Luc Then thus: of many good I think 
 
 him best. 
 Jul. Your reason? 
 
 Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; 
 I think him so, l)ecause I think him so. 
 
 Jul. And wouldst thou have me cast my 
 
 love on him' 
 Lnc. Ay, if you thought your love not cast 
 
 away. 
 Jul. Why he, of all the rest, hath never 
 
 mov'd me. 
 Luc. Yet he, of all the rest, P think, best 
 
 loves ye. 
 Jul. His little .speaking shows his love 
 
 l)ut small. 
 Luc Fii-e* that 's closest kept burns most of 
 all. 30 
 
 Jul. They do not love that do not .show 
 
 their love. 
 Luc. O, they love least that let men know 
 
 their love. 
 Jul. I would I knew his mind. 
 Luc. Peruse this paper, madam. 
 Jul. "To Julia." — Say, fi'om wlu-m? 
 Luc. That the contents will show. 
 Jul. Say, say, who gave it thee '? 
 Lur. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, 
 from Proteus. 
 He would have given it you ; but I, being in 
 the way, 
 
 8 Censure, express my opinion. 
 
 * Fire, pronounced here as a dissyllable.
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 Did ill your name receive it: pardon the fault, 
 I i>vay. 40 
 
 Jill. Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! 
 Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? 
 T(j whisper and conspire against my youth? 
 Now, trust me, 't is an office of great worth 
 And you an officer fit for the place. 
 There, take the paper: see it be return'd; 
 Or else return no more into my sight. 
 
 Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee 
 than hate. 
 
 Jul. Will ye be gone? 
 
 Luc. That you may ruminate. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Jul. And yet I would I had o'erlook'd the 
 letter: oo 
 
 It were a shame to call her back again, 
 And i^ray her to a fault for which I chid 
 
 her. 
 What fooP is she, that knows I am a maid, 
 And would not force the letter to my view, — 
 Since maid.s, in modesty, say " No " to that 
 Which they would have the i^rofferer construe 
 
 "Ay": 
 Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, 
 That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse 
 And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod I 
 How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, 60 
 
 A\Tien willingly I would have had her here! 
 How angerly I taught my brow to frown, 
 When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile ! 
 My penance is to call Lucetta back, 
 And ask remission for my folly past. 
 What, ho! Lucetta! 
 
 Re-enter Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. [Letting fall the letter, as ifhy accident^ 
 What would your ladyship? 
 
 Jul. Is 't near dinner-time? 
 
 Luc. [Stooping to pich xip the letter'\ I would 
 it were. 
 That you might kill your stomach- on your 
 
 meat. 
 And not upon your maid. 
 
 Jul. What is't that you took up so gin- 
 gerly? 70 
 
 Luc. Nothing. 
 
 Jill. Why didst thou stoop, then ? 
 
 1 What fool, what a fool. 
 
 2 Stomach, temper. 
 
 L2ir. To take a paper uj) that I let fall. 73 
 Jul. And is that pa})er nothing? 
 Luc. Nothing concerning me. 
 Jul. Then let it lie for those that it con- 
 cerns. 
 Lite. Madam, it will not lie where it con- 
 cerns. 
 Unless it have a false interpreter. 
 
 Jul. Some love of yours hath writ to you in 
 
 rhyme. 
 Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. 
 Give me a note: your ladyship can set. 8I 
 
 Jul. As little ])y such toys as may be jios- 
 sible. 
 Best sing it to the tune of " Light o' luve." 
 Li(,c. It is too heavy for so light a tune. 
 J2d. Heavy I belike it hath .some burden 
 
 then? 
 Luc. Ay; and melodious were it, would you 
 
 sing it. 
 Jul. And why not you? 
 Luc. I cannot reach so high. 
 
 Jul. Let 's see your song. [Lucetta shows her 
 the letter from Proteus.'] Hownow, minion ! 
 [Snatches the letter from lAicettn. 
 Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sing- 
 it out: 
 And yet methinks I do not like this tune, oo 
 Jul. You do not? 
 
 Luc. No, madam; 'tis too .sharp. 
 
 Jul. You, minion, are too saucy. 
 Luc. Nay, now you are too flat. 
 And mar the concord with too harsh a de- 
 scant: 
 There wanteth but a meair' to fill your .song. 
 Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly 
 
 bass. 
 Luc. Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. 
 Jul. This babble shaU not henceforth trouble 
 me. — 
 Here is a coil with protestation! — 
 
 [Tears the letter. 
 
 Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: loo 
 
 You would be fingering them, to anger me. 
 
 Luc. She makes it strange;* but she would 
 
 be best pleas'd 
 
 To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit. 
 
 s Mean, tenor. 
 
 * She makes it strange, she pretends to be shocked. 
 131
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 Jul. Nay, would I were so anger'd witli tlie 
 same ! 
 
 hateful hands, to tear such loving words I 
 Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey. 
 And kill the bees that yield it with your 
 
 stings! 
 
 1 '11 kiss each several paper for amends. 
 Look, here is writ "kind Julia:" — unkind 
 
 Julia! 
 As in revenge of thy ingratitude, no 
 
 I throw thv name against the bruising stones, 
 
 ->< 
 
 Jul. I'll kiss each several paper for amends. 
 
 Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
 And here is writ — " love-wounded Proteus:" — 
 Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed 
 Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughlv 
 
 heal'd; 
 And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
 But twice or thrice was "Proteus" written 
 
 down : — 
 Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away 
 Till I have found each letter in the letter. 
 Except mine own name: that some whirlwind 
 
 bear 120 
 
 Unto a ragged, fearful-hanging rock 
 And throw it thence into the raging sea! 
 132 
 
 Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, — 
 " Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 To the sweet Julia:" — that I '11 tear away;— 
 And yet I will not, sith so ])rettily 
 He couples it to his complaining names. 
 ^Thus will I fold them one upon another: \ 
 Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you 
 will. ] 
 
 Re-enter Lucetta. 
 
 Luc. Madam, 130 
 
 J )inner is ready, and your father stays. 
 Jul. Well, let us go. 
 
 Luc. What, shall these pai)ers lie like tell- 
 tales here? 
 Jul. If you re.spect them, best to take them 
 
 up. 
 Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them 
 down : 
 Yet here they .shall not lie, for catching cold.^ 
 \^Ficks up the pieces of the letter. 
 Jul. I see you haA^e a month's mind to them. 
 Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights 
 you see; 
 I .see things too, although you judge I \\ ink. 
 Jul. Come, come; will 't ])1 ea.se you go? 140 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. The same. AntonuJ's Jtousc. 
 Enter Antonio and Panthino. 
 
 Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad^ talk was 
 that 
 Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? 
 
 Pan. 'T was of his nephew Proteus, your son. 
 
 Ant. Why, what of him? 
 
 Pan. He wonder'd that your lordshij) 
 
 Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, 
 While other men, of slender reijutation. 
 Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: 
 Some to the wars, to try their fortime there; 
 Some to discover islands far away; 
 Some to the studious universities. 10 
 
 For any, or for all these exercises. 
 He said that Proteus your son was meet, 
 And did request me to importune you 
 To let him spend his time no more at home. 
 
 1 For catching cold, lest they should catch cold. 
 
 2 Sad, serious.
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 Which would be great imjjeachment^ to liis 
 
 age, 
 [n having known no travel in his youth. 
 A».t. Nor need'st thou much importune me 
 to that 
 Whereon this month I have been hammer- 
 ing. 
 I have consider'd well his loss of time, 
 And how he cannot be a perfect man, 20 
 
 Not being tried and tutor'd in the world: 
 
 Exijerience is by industry achiev'd, 
 And perfected by the swift course of time. 
 Then, tell me, whither were I best to send 
 him? 
 
 Fan. I think your lordship is not ignorant 
 How his companion, youtliful Valentine, 
 Attends the emperor in his royal court. 
 
 Ant. I know it well. 
 
 Fan. 'T were good, I think, your lordship 
 sent him thither: 29 
 
 
 Pro. 0, how this spring of love resembletli 
 The uncertain glory of an April day. 
 
 There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 
 Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen. 
 And be in eye of^ every exercise 
 Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. 
 Ant. I Uke thy counsel ; Avell hast thou ad- 
 vis'd : 
 And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it. 
 The execution of it shall make known: 36 
 
 1 Impeachittent, reproach. 
 
 2 Be in eye of, be within view of. 
 
 Even with the speediest expedition 
 I will disjmtch him to the emperor's court. 
 Fan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don 
 Alphonso, 
 With other gentlemen of good esteem, 10 
 
 Ai-e journeying to salute the emperor. 
 And to commend their service to his will. 
 Ant. Good company; with them shall Pro- 
 teus go: 
 And, — in good time: — now will we break witli 
 him. 
 
 133
 
 ACT I. Sceue 3. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT H. Scene 1. 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 I'ro. Sweet love! sweet lines I sweet life! 
 Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; 
 Here is her oath for love, her honours pawn. 
 (), that our fathers would applaud our loves, 
 To seal our happiness witli their consents! 
 
 hesivenly Julia! ')0 
 Ant. How now! what letter are you reading 
 
 there? 
 Pro. May "t please your lordship, 't is a word 
 or two 
 Of commendations sent from Valentine, 
 DeliverVl by a fi'iend that came from him. 
 Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see what news. 
 Pro. There is no news, my lord, but that he 
 writes 
 How happily he lives, how well belov'd 
 And daily graced by the empei'or; 
 Wishing me with him, ])artner of his fortune. 
 A /it. And how stand you affected to his wish? 
 J'ro. As one I'elying on your lordshi]ys will, r,i 
 And not depending on his friendly wish. 
 Ant. My will is something sorted with his 
 wish. 
 Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; 
 For what I will, I will, and there an end. 
 
 1 am resolv'd that thou shalt spend some time 
 With Valentino in the emjieror's court: 
 What maintenance he from his friends receives, 
 
 Like exhibition" thou shalt have from me. 
 To-morrow be in readiness to go: 70 
 
 Excuse it not, for I am jjcremptory. 
 
 Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided: 
 Please you, deliberate a day or two. 
 
 Ant. Look, what thou want'st shall be sei.t 
 after thee : 
 No more of stjiy; to-morrow thou must go. 
 Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd 
 To hasten on his expedition. 
 
 [Kvciint Antonio und Pant/iino. 
 
 Pro. Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear 
 of Imrning, 
 And drench'd me in the sea, where I ;:m 
 
 drown'd. 
 I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, 
 Lest he shotdd take exceptions to my love; 
 And with the vantage of mine own excuse 
 Hatli he excepted most against my love. 
 O, how this sjiring of love resembleth^ 
 
 Tlie uncertain glory of an April day. 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun. 
 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away! 
 
 Re-enter Panthino. 
 
 Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: 
 He is in haste; therefore, I pray you, go. ".1 
 
 Pro. Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, 
 And yet a thous<and times it answers " No." 
 
 \^I-Jxeiint. 
 
 ACT 11. 
 
 Scene I. Milan. The Duke's palace. 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 Speed. Sir, your glove. 
 Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. 
 
 Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for 
 
 this is but one.^ 
 Viil. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it 's mine: 
 Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! 
 Ah, Silvia, Silvia! .■> 
 
 Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! 
 Val. How now, sirrah? 
 Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. 
 Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her? 
 
 1 One, anciently written on. 
 134 
 
 Speed. Your worshiji, sir; or else I mistook. 
 Val. Well, you '11 still be too forward. 
 
 Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being 
 too slow. 
 
 V(d. Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Ma- 
 dam Silvia? \'> 
 
 Speed. She that your woi'ship loves? 
 
 Val. Why, how know you that 1 am in love? 
 
 Speed. Many, by these special marks: first, 
 you have learn'd, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe 
 your arms, like a malcontent; to relish a love- 
 song, like a robin-redbreast ; to walk alone, 
 like one that had the jtestilence; to sigh, like 
 
 - Exhibitiun, allowance. 
 
 3 Resemhleth, pronounced here as a quadrisyllable.
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 a schoolboy that had lost his A B C; to weep, 
 like a young wench that had buried her gran- 
 dam; to fast, like one that takes diet;^ to 
 watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak 
 jniling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You 
 were wont, when you laughed, to crow like a 
 cock; when you walked, to walk like one of 
 the lions: when you fasted, it was presently 
 after dinner; when you looked sadly, it was 
 for want of money: and now you are meta- 
 niorphos'd with a mistress, that, when I look 
 on you, I can hardly think you my master. 
 
 Veil. Are all these things perceiv'd in me? 
 
 Speed. They are all perceiv'd without ye. 
 
 Val. "Without me? they cannot. :i7 
 
 Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, 
 for, without you were so simple, none else 
 '( would : - Q but you are so without these follies, 
 (-that these follies are within you, and shine 
 /through you like the water in an urinal, that 
 ^not an eye that sees you but is a i)hysician 
 Ho comment on your malady. ] 
 
 Vcd. But tell me, dost thou know my lady 
 Silvia? 
 
 Speed. She that you gaze on so as she sits 
 at su])per? 
 
 I ''//. Hast thou observM that? even she, I mean. 
 
 Speed. Why, sir, I know her not. :m 
 
 V'd. Dost thou know her by my gazing on 
 her, and yet know'st her not? 
 
 Speed. Is she not hard-favoui'd, sir? 
 
 Val. Not so fair, boy, as well-favour'd. 
 
 Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. 
 
 Val. What dost thou know? 
 
 Speed. That she is not so fair as, of you, 
 well-favour'd. 
 
 Val. I mean that her l^eauty is exquisite, 
 but her favour infinite. co 
 
 Speed. That's because the one is painted, 
 and the other out of all count. 
 
 Val. How paiiited ? and how out of count? 
 
 Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her 
 fair, that no man counts of ' her beauty. 
 
 Val. How esteem 'st thou me? I account of 
 her beauty. 
 
 Speed. You never saw her since she was de- 
 form'd. 
 
 1 Takes diet, is under a strict regimen. 
 ^ None else loould, i.e. woukl lie so simple. 
 3 Counts of, values. 
 
 Val. How long hath she been defoi-m'd ? ro 
 
 Speed. Ever since you lo\''d her. 
 
 Val. I have lov'd her ever since I .saw her; 
 and still I see her beautiful. 
 
 Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. 
 
 Val. Why? 
 
 Speed. Because Love is blind. \_ O, that you ' 
 had mine eyes; or your own eyes had the'' 
 lights they were wont to have when you chid > 
 at Sir Proteus for going ungarter'd ! ( 
 
 V<d. What should I .see then? so^ 
 
 Speed. Your own present folly and her pass- ^ 
 ing deformity: for he, being in love, could not; 
 see to garter his hose, and you, being in love, '' 
 cannot see to put on your hose. ;' 
 
 Val. Belike, boy, then, you are in love ; for last !> 
 morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. > 
 
 Speed. True, sir; I was in love with' my'^ 
 bed: I thank you, you swing'd* me for my;- 
 love, which makes me the bolder to chide you; 
 for yours. 89^ 
 
 Val. In conclusion, I stand aifected to her. ^ 
 
 Speed. I would you were set,^ so your aifec- > 
 tion would cease.] .; 
 
 Val. Last night .she enjoin'd me to write 
 some lines to one she loves. 
 
 Speed. And have you? 
 
 Val. I have. 
 
 Speed. Are they not lamely writ? 
 
 Val. No, boy, but as well as I can do them. 
 Peace I here she comes. I'.i 
 
 Speed. [Aside^ O excellent motion I'' O e.x- 
 ceeding puppet ! Now will he interpret to hei-. 
 
 Enter Silvia. 
 
 Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good- 
 morrows. 
 
 Speed. [Aside^ O, give ye good even ! here 's 
 a million of manners. 
 
 Sil. Sir Valentine and servant, to you two 
 thousand. 
 
 Speed. [Aside] He should give her inteiest, 
 and she gives it him. 
 
 Val. As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your 
 letter ion 
 
 Unto the secret nameless friend of youi'S ; 
 Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, 
 But for my duty to your ladyship. 
 
 * Swinri'd, whipped. s Set, seated. 
 
 ^ Motion, piippet-sliow. 
 
 135
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 Sil. I thank you, gentle servant : 't is very 
 clerkly^ done. 114 
 
 Val. Now trust me, madam, it came hardly ofl"; 
 For being ignorant to whom it goes 
 I writ at random, very doubtfully. 
 
 Sil. Perchance you think too much of so 
 
 much pains? 
 Val. No, madam ; so it stead you, I will write, 
 Please you command, a thousand times as 
 much ; 120 
 
 And yet — 
 
 Sil. A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; 
 And yet I will not name it ; — and yet I care 
 
 not; — 
 And yet take this again; — and yet I thank you. 
 Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. 
 Speed. [Aside] And yet you will; and yet 
 
 another " yet." 
 Val. What means your ladyship? do you 
 
 not like it? 
 Sil. Yes, yes : the linesare very quaintly writ ; 
 But since unwillingly, take them again. 
 Nay, take them. i:iO 
 
 Val. Madam, they are for you. 
 *S'i7. Ay, ay, you writ them, sir, at my request ; 
 But I will none of them ; they are for you ; 
 I would have had them writ moi'e movingly. 
 Val. Please you, I '11 Avrite your ladyship 
 
 another. 
 Sil. And when it 's writ, for my sake read 
 it over ; 
 And if it please you, so ; if not, why, so. 
 Val. If it plea.se me, madam, what then? 
 Sil. Why, if it please you, take it for your 
 labour: 
 And so, good morrow, serA'ant. [E.vit. 140 
 Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, iuAnsible, 
 As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock 
 
 on a steeple I 
 My master sues to her, and she hath taught 
 
 her suitor, 
 He being her pujul, to become her tutor. 
 O excellent device I was there ever heard a 
 
 better. 
 That my master, being scribe, to himself 
 should write the letter? 
 Val. How now, sir? what are you reason- 
 ing with yourself? 
 
 1 Clerkly, like a scliolar. 
 136 
 
 Speed. Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that 
 have the reason. 150 
 
 Val. To do what? 
 
 Speed. To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia, 
 
 Val. To whom? 
 
 Speed. To yourself : why, she wooes you by 
 a figure. 
 
 Val. What figure? 
 
 Speed. By a letter, I should say. 
 
 ]'al. Why, she hath not writ to me? 
 
 Speed. What need she, when she hath made 
 you write to yourself? Why, do you not per- 
 ceive the jest? 160 
 
 Val. No, believe me. 
 
 Speed. No believing you, indeed, sir. But 
 did you perceive her earnest ? 
 
 Val. She gave me none, except an angiy 
 word. 
 
 Speed. Why, she hath given you a letter. 
 
 Val. That's the letter I w^rit to her friend. 
 
 Speed. And that letter bath she deliver'd, 
 and there an end. 
 
 Val. I would it were no worse. 
 
 Speed. I '11 warrant you, 't is as well : 170 
 " For often have you writ to her, <ai)d .she, in modesty. 
 Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; 
 Or fearing eLse some messenger that might her mind 
 
 discover, 
 Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto 
 
 her lover." 
 All this I speak in jirint,- for in print I found it. 
 ■WHiy muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time. 
 
 Val. I have din'd. 
 
 Speed. Ay, but hearken, sir; though the 
 chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one 
 that am nourish'd by my victuals, and would 
 fain have meat. O, be not like your mistress; 
 be moved, be moved.^ [Exeunt. 182 
 
 Scene II. Verona. Julia's house. 
 
 Enter Proteus and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. 
 Jul. 1 must, where is no remedy. 
 Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. 
 Jul. If you turn not, you will return the 
 sooner. 
 
 2 In print, exactly. 
 
 s Be moved, have compassion on me.
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
 
 [Giving him a ring. 
 
 Pro. Why, then, we'll make exchange; here, 
 
 take you this. [Giving her another. 
 
 Jtd. And seal the bargain with a holy 
 
 kiss. 
 Pro. Here is my hand for my true con- 
 stancy ; 
 And when that hour o'erslips me in the day 
 Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, lo 
 The next ensuing hour some foul mischance 
 Torment me for my love's forgetfulness ! 
 My father stays my coming; answer not; 
 The tide is now: — nay, not thy tide of tears ; 
 That tide will stay me longer than I should. 
 Jidia, farewell I [Ex-it Julia. 
 
 What, gone without a word? 
 Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ; 
 For truth hath better deeds than words to 
 grace it. 
 
 Eater Paxthixo. 
 
 Pan. Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for. 
 Pro. Go; I come, I come. 20 
 
 Alits ; this parting st^'ikes poor lovers dumb. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene III. The same. A .'Street. 
 
 Enter Lauxce, leading a dog. 
 
 Launce. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have 
 done weeping; all the kind of the Launces have 
 this very fault. I have receiv'd my propor- 
 tion, like the prodigious son, and am going 
 with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's court. I 
 think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured 
 dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father 
 wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, 
 our cat wringing her hands, and all our house 
 in a gi-eat perplexity, yet did not this cruel- 
 hearted cur shed one tear: he is a stone, a 
 very pebble stone, and has no more pity in 
 him than a dog : a Jew would have wept to 
 have seen our parting; why, my gi'andam, 
 having no eyes, look you, wept herself blintl 
 at my jjarting. Nay, I '11 show you the manner 
 of it. This shoe is my father : no, this left 
 shoe is my father : no, no, this left shoe is my 
 mother : nay, that cannot be so neither : yes, 
 it is so, it is so, it hath the worser sole. Q This 
 
 shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and 
 this my father; a vengeance on't! there 'tis:) 
 now, sir, ] this staff is my sister, for, look you, i 
 she is as white as a lily and as small as a 
 wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I am the 
 dog : no, the dog is himself, and I am the dog 
 — Oh ! the dog is me, and I am myself ; ay, so, 
 so. Now come I to my father ; " Father, your 
 blessing : " now should not the shoe speak a 
 
 Launce. 'Sa.i\ 1 "11 .show jou the niauuer of it. This shoe 
 is my father: no, this left shoe is my father. 
 
 word for weeping: now should I kiss my 
 father; well, he weeps on. Now come I to 
 my mother : O, that she could sjieak now like 
 a wood^ woman 1 Well, I kiss her ; why, there 
 't is ; here 's my mother's breath up and dowai. 
 Now 'come I to my sister ; mark the moan she 
 makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not 
 a tear nor sj^eaks a word ; but see how I lay 
 the dust with my tears. 35 
 
 Enter Panthino. 
 
 Pan. Launce, away, away, aboard 1 thy 
 master is shipp'd and thou art to post after 
 
 ' Wood, mad. 
 137
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 with oars. What's the matter? why weej/st 
 thou, man? Away, ass! you'll lose the tide, 
 if you tarry any longer. 40 
 
 Lamice. It is no matter if the tied were 
 lost ; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any 
 man tied. 
 
 Pan. What's the unkindest tide? 
 
 Lauiice. Why, he that's tied here, — Crab 
 my dog. 
 
 Pan. Tut, man, I mean thou It lose the 
 flood; and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage; 
 and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master; 
 and, in losing thy master, lose thy service ; 
 and, in losing thy service, — Why dost thou 
 stop my mouth I ni 
 
 Launce. For fear thou shouldst lose thy 
 tongue. 
 
 Pan. Where should 1 lose my tongue? 
 
 Launre. In thy tale. 
 
 Pan. In my t;iil ? 
 
 Launce. Lo.se the tidt-, and the voyage, and 
 the master, and the .service, and [poinlinc/ to 
 f/ic doy'] the tied I Why, man, if the river 
 were thy, I am able to All it with my teai-s : 
 if the wind were down, I could drive the boat 
 with my sighs. r,o 
 
 Pan. Come, come away, man ; I was sent to 
 call thee. 
 
 Launrr. Sir, call me what thou dar'st. 
 
 Pan. Wilt thou go ? 
 
 Launce. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScKXE IV. Milan. A room in the J)ukc^s 
 palace. 
 
 Enter Silvia, Valentine, Thurio, and 
 
 Speed. 
 Ai/. Servant! — 
 
 Val. Mistress? 
 
 Speed. Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. 
 
 Vtd. Ay, boy, it's for love. 
 Speed. Not of you. 
 
 Val. Of my mistress, then. 
 Speed. 'T were good you knock'd him. [E.vif. 
 Sil. Servant, you are sad. 
 
 Val. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 
 
 T/ui. Seem you that you are not? 10 
 
 Val. Haply I do. 
 
 7%?*. So do counterfeits. 
 
 Val. So do you. 
 
 138 
 
 Thu. What seem I that I am not? 14 
 
 I \d. Wise. 
 
 T/tu. What instance of the contrary ? 
 
 \'al. Your folly. 
 
 T/iu. And how quote you my folly? 
 
 V((l. I quote^ it in your jerkin. 
 
 T/tu. My jerkin is a doublet. jo 
 
 Val. WelL, then, I '11 double your folly. 
 
 T/iu. How? 
 
 Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change 
 colour ? 
 
 Val. (iive him leave, madam ; he is a kind 
 of chameleon. 
 
 'P/ui. That hath more mind to feed on your 
 blood than live in your air. 
 
 \'(d. You have .said, sir. 
 
 T/iu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 30 
 
 Val. I know it well, sir; you always end 
 ere you begin. 
 
 >S';7. A flne volley of words, gentlemen, and 
 (juickly shot oft". 
 
 Val. 'Tis indeed, madam: we thank the 
 giver. 
 
 Sil. Who is that, .servant ? 
 
 Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave the 
 tire. Sir Thurio borrows his wit from your 
 ladyship's looks, and spends what he bori'ows 
 kindly in your company. -10 
 
 77iu. Sir, if you spend word for word with 
 me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. 
 
 V((l. I know it well, sir; you Lave an ex- 
 chequer of word.s, and, I think, no other trea- 
 sure to give your followers, for it appears, by 
 their bare liveiies, that they live by your bare 
 words. 
 
 Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more : — here 
 comes my father. 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Bul-e. Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard 
 beset. 
 Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: :.o 
 What say you to a letter from your friends 
 < )f much good news ? 
 
 Val. My lord, I will be thankful 
 
 To any happy messenger from thence. 
 
 Duh'. Know ye Don Antonio, your coun- 
 tryman ? 
 
 1 Quote, observe, pronounced like coat; hence the pun.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. J:cene 4. 
 
 Val. A)^ my good lord, I know the gentleman 
 To be of worth and worthy estimation, 
 And not without desert so well reputed. 
 
 Dt/i-f. Hath he not a son? 
 
 Val. Ay, my good lord; a son that well 
 deserves 
 The honour and regard of such a father. 60 
 
 Duke. You know him well ? 61 
 
 V((l. I know him as myself; for from our 
 infancy 
 We have convers'd, and sjient our hours to- 
 gether : 
 And though myself have been an idle truant, 
 Omitting the sweet benetit of time 
 
 Sil. What, angry, Sir Thurio ! do you change colour? 
 Val. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind of chauicluoii. 
 
 To clothe mine age with angel-like peifection, 
 Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that 's his name, 
 Made use and fail- advantage of his days; 
 His years but young, but his experience old ; 
 His head uumellow'd, but his judgement ripe; 
 And, in a word, — for far behind his worth ri 
 Comes all the praises that I now bestow, — 
 He is complete in feature and in mind 
 With all good giace to grace a gentleman. 
 Duke. Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this 
 good, 
 He is as worthy for an empress' love 
 As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
 Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me. 
 With commendation from great potentates; 
 
 And here he means to spend his time awhile : 
 
 I think 't is no unwelcome news to you. 81 
 
 Val. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had 
 
 been he. 
 Duke. Welcome him then according to his 
 woi-th. 
 Silvia, I sjjeak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; 
 For Valentine, I need not cite him^ to it: 
 I '11 send him hither to you presently. \^E.vit. 
 Val. This is the gentleman I told your lady- 
 ship 
 Had come along with me, but that his mistress 
 Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. 
 
 J Cite him, incite him. 
 139
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 >Sil. Belike that now she hath enfranchis'd 
 them 90 
 
 Upon some other pawn for fealty.' 
 
 Val. Nay, sure, I think she holds them 
 
 prisoners still. 
 Sil. Nay, then he should be blind; and, 
 being blind, 
 How could he see his way to seek out you? 
 Val. Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of 
 
 eyes. 
 Thit. They say that Love hath not an eye 
 
 at all. 
 Val. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself: 
 Upon a homely object Love can wink. 
 
 [Thurio relives angrily to hack of stage. 
 Sil. Have done, have done; here comes the 
 gentleman. 
 
 Enter Protkls. 
 
 Val. Welcome, dear Proteus I Mistress, I 
 beseech you, lOO 
 
 Confirm his welcome with some special favour. 
 Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome 
 hither, 
 If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. 
 Val. Mistress, it is : sweet lady, entertain 
 him 
 To be ray fellow-servant to your ladyship. 
 Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. 
 Pro. Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a 
 servant 
 To have a look of such a worthy mistress. 
 
 Val. Leave off discourse of disability: — 109 
 Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. 
 Pro. My duty will I boast of; nothing else. 
 Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed: 
 Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mis- 
 tress. 
 Pro. I '11 die on him that says so but vour- 
 
 self. 
 Sil. That you are welcome? 
 Pro. No, that you are worthless. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Sere. Madam, my lord your father would 
 
 speak with you. 
 Sil. I wait upon his pleasure. [E.vit Sen'ant] 
 
 Come, Sir Thurio, 
 
 • Fealty, pronounced as a trisyllable. 
 140 
 
 Go you with me. Once more, new servant, 
 
 welcome : 
 
 I '11 leave you to confer of home affairs; 
 
 When you have done, we look to hear from 
 
 you. 120 
 
 Pro. We '11 both attend upon your ladyship. 
 
 [h\veunt Silvia and T/iurio. 
 
 Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence 
 
 you came? 
 Pro. Your fjiends are well and have them 
 
 much commended. 
 Val. And how do yours? 
 Pro. I left them all in health. 
 
 Val. How does your lady? and how thrives 
 
 your love? 
 I'ro. My tales of love were wont to weary 
 you; 
 I know you joy not in a love-discourse. 
 
 Val. Ay, Proteu.s, but that life is alter'd now: 
 I have done penance for contemning Love, 
 Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd 
 me vo 
 
 With bitter fasts, with penitential gi'oans, 
 With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs; 
 For in revenge of my contemjrt of love, 
 Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled 
 
 eyes 
 And made them watchers of mine own heart's 
 
 sorrow. 
 gentle Proteus, Love 's a mighty lord, 
 And hath so humbled me, as I confess 
 There is no woe to^ his correction, 
 Nor to his service no such joy on earth. 
 Now, no discourse, except it be of love; 140 
 Now can I break my fast, dine, suj) and sleep, 
 Upon the A-^ery naked name of love. 
 
 Pro. Enough; I read your fortune in your 
 eye. 
 Was this the idol that you worship so? 
 
 Val. Even she; and is she not a heavenly 
 
 saint? 
 Pro. No; but she is an earthly paragon. 
 Val. Call her divine. 
 
 Pro. I will not flatter her. 
 
 ]'al. O, flatter me; for love delights in 
 
 praises. 
 Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter 
 pills, 
 
 2 To, compared to.
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 5. 
 
 And I mu.st minister the like to you. 150 
 
 Val. Then speak the truth of her; if not 
 divine, 
 Yet let her be a principality, 
 Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 
 Fro. Excefit my mistress. 
 Val. Sweet, excejit not any; 
 
 Except thou wilt except against my love. 
 J'ro. Have I not reason to prefer mine own? 
 Val. And I will help thee to prefer her too: 
 She shall be dignified with this high honour — 
 To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth 
 Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss, 
 Aiid, of so great a favour growing proud, iiu 
 Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower, 
 And make rough winter everlastingly. 
 
 J'ro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism 's 
 
 this? 
 Val. Pardon me, Proteus : all I can is no- 
 thing 
 To her whose worth makes other worthies 
 
 nothing; 
 She is alone. 
 
 Fro. Then let her alone. 
 
 Val. Not for the world : why, man, she is 
 mine own, 
 And I as rich in having such a jewel 
 As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl. 
 The water nectar, and the I'ocks pure gold. 
 Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, 172 
 Because thou see'st me dote upon my love. 
 My foolish rival, that her father likes 
 Only for his possessions are so huge. 
 Is gone with her along; and I must after. 
 For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. 
 Fro. But she loves you ? 
 Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd : nay, more, 
 our marriage-hour, 170 
 
 With all the cunning manner of our flight, 
 Determin'd of; how I must climb her window, 
 The ladder made of cords, and all the means 
 Plotted and 'greed on for my hajjpiness. 
 Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, 
 In these afl'airs to aid me with thy counsel. 
 Fro. Go on before; I shall inquire you 
 forth : 
 I must unto the road, ^ to disembark 
 Some necessaries that I needs must use, 
 
 1 Road, havljour. 
 
 And then I 'II presently attend on you. 
 
 Val. Will you make haste? 190 
 
 Fro. I will. [Kvit Valentine. 
 
 Even as one heat another heat expels. 
 Or as one nail by strength drives out another, 
 So the I'emembrance of my former love 
 Is by a newer object quite foi-gotten. 
 Is it mine eye, or Valentino's praise. 
 Her true perfection, or my false transgression, 
 That makes me reasonless to reason thus? 
 She is fair; and so is Julia that I love — 
 That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; 
 Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, 201 
 Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
 Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, 
 And that I love him not as I was wont. 
 O, but I love his lady too-too much, 
 And that 's the reason I love him so little. 
 How shall I dote on her with more advice,'^ 
 That thus without advice begin to love her ! 
 'T is but her picture I have yet beheld. 
 And that hath dazzled^ my reason's light; 210 
 But when I look on her perfections, 
 There is no reason but I shall be blind. 
 If I can check my erring love, I will; 
 If not, to compass her I '11 use my skill. [E.vit. 
 
 Scene V. T/ie .same. A street. 
 Enter Speed and Launce severally. 
 
 Speed. Launce ! by mine honesty, welcome 
 to Milan ! 
 
 Launce. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, 
 for I am not welcome. I reckon this always, 
 that a man is never undone till he be hang'd, 
 nor never welcome to a place till some certain 
 shot be paid, and the hostess say "Welcome !" 
 
 Speed. Come on, you madcap, I'll to the 
 alehouse with you presently; where, for one 
 shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thou- 
 sand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy 
 master part with Madam Julia? 12 
 
 Launce. Marry, after they clos'd in earnest, 
 they parted very fairly in jest. 
 
 Speed. But shall she marry him? 
 
 iMunce, No. 
 
 Speed. How then? shall he marry her? 
 
 i With more advice, on further knowledge. 
 3 Dazzled, anciently written dazeled, pronounced as tri- 
 syllable. 
 
 141 
 
 li
 
 ACT II. Swiie 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEHONA. 
 
 Al'T II. Scene C. 
 
 Launce. No, neither. 
 
 Speed. What, are they hroken? i j 
 
 Launce. No, they are both as whole as a fish. 
 
 '^tSpeed. Why, then, how stands the matter 
 
 ^ with them 1 
 
 { Lcunice. Marry, thus; wlien it stands well 
 
 ^with him, it stands well with her. 
 
 Launce. Thou slialt never get such a secret from me but bj- a 
 parable. 
 
 Speed. What an ass art thf)ii I I understand 
 
 thee not. 
 Launce. What a block art thou, that thou 
 canst not I My staff understands me. 
 
 Speed. What thou say'st? 29 
 
 Launce. Ay, and what I do too : look thee, 
 I '11 but lean, and my staff iniderstands me. 
 Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. 
 Launce. Why, stand-under and under-stand 
 
 is all one. ] 
 Speed. But tell me true, will 't be a match? 
 142 
 
 Launce. Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will; 
 if he say, no, it will; if he .shake his tail ajid 
 s;iy nothing, it will. 
 
 Speed. The conclusion is then that it will. 
 
 Launce. Thou shalt never get such a secret 
 from me but by a jiai'able.' 4i 
 
 Speed. 'Tis well that I get it so. But, 
 Launce, how say'st thou, that my master is 
 become a notable lover? 
 
 Launce. I never knew him otherwise. 
 
 Speed. Than how? 
 
 Launce. A notable lubbei', as thou rejjortest 
 him to be. 
 
 ^ Speed. Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mis- 
 takest me. .">o 
 
 Launce. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I 
 meant thy master. 
 
 Speed. I tell thee, mv master is become a^ 
 hot lover. 
 
 Ljiiunce. Why, I tell thee, I care not though^ 
 he burn himself in love.] If thou wilt, go| 
 with me to the alehouse; if not, thou art an 
 He1)rew, a Jew, and not worth tiie name of a 
 ( 'hristian. 
 
 Speed. Why? i;o 
 
 Launce. Becau.se thou hast not so much 
 charity in thee as to go to the ale with a 
 Christian. Wilt thou go? 
 
 Speed. At thy service. \_Exeiint. 
 
 Scene VI. The same. A room in the Duke^s 
 palace. 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. To leave my Julia, .shall I be forsworn; 
 
 To love fair Silvia, shall I be foi'sworn; 
 
 To wrong my friend, I shall be nnich for- 
 sworn ; 
 
 And ev'n that power, which gave me fiist my_ 
 oath. 
 
 Provokes me to this threefold })erjurv; 
 
 Love bade me swear, and Love bids me for- 
 swear. 
 
 O sweet-suggesting 2 Love, if thou hast .sinu'd,-* 
 
 Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it! 
 
 At first I did adore a twinkling star. 
 
 But now I worship a celestial sun. lo 
 
 1 By a parable, indirectly. 
 
 2 Sweet -siiijgesting. sweetly tempting. 
 
 3 Sinn'd, influenced me to sin.
 
 ACT II. Scene 6. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEKONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 7. 
 
 !^Q Unheedful vows nicay heedfully be broken, 
 / And he wants wit that wants resolved will 
 ^To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. 
 / Fie, fie, unreverent tongue I to call her bad, 
 / Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd 
 i With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. 
 '/ 1 cannot leave to love, and yet I do ; 
 ' But there I leave to love where I shovdd love. ] 
 Julia I lose, and Valentine I lose : 
 If I keep them, I needs must lose myself ; 20 
 If I lose them, thus find I by their loss 
 For Valentine, myself, for Julia, Silvia. 
 I to myself am dearer than a friend, 
 For love is still most pi^ecious in itself ; 
 And Silvia — witness Heaven, that made her 
 
 fair I — 
 Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. 
 I will forget that Julia is alive, 
 Rememb'ring that my love to her is dead ; 
 And Valentine I '11 hold an enemy. 
 Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 30 
 
 I cannot now prove constant to myself, 
 Without some treachery us'd to Valentine. 
 This night he meaneth with a corded ladder 
 To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window, 
 Myself in counsel his competitor i^ 
 Now presently I '11 give her father notice 
 Of their disguising and pretended- flight; 
 Who, all enrag'd, will banish Valentine ; 
 For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter; 
 But, Valentine being gone, I '11 quickly cross. 
 By some sly trick, blunt Thurio's dull pro- 
 ceeding. 
 Love, lend me wings to make my purpose 
 
 swift. 
 As thou hast lent me wit to jilot this drift ! 4?, 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene VII. Verona. Julia's house. 
 
 Enter Julia and Lucetta. 
 
 Jttl. Counsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me ; 
 And, ev'n in kind love, I do conjure thee. 
 Who art the t;djle wherein all my thoughts 
 Are visibly chardcter'd and engrav'd, 
 To lesson me; and tell me some good mean. 
 How, with my honour, I may undertake 
 A journey to my loving Proteus 
 
 1 Competitor, confederate. 2 Pretended, i)roi)ose(l. 
 
 Luc. Alas, the way is wearisome and long I 
 
 Jul. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weaiy 
 
 To measure kingdoms with his feeble stejjs ; in 
 
 Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to 
 
 tiy, 
 
 And when the flight is made to one so dear, 
 Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. 
 Luc. Better forbeai- till Proteus make re- 
 turn. 
 Jul. O, know'st thou not his looks are my 
 soul's food? 
 Pity the dearth that I have pined in, 
 By longing for that food so long a time. 
 Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, 
 Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow 
 As seek to quench the fire of love witli 
 words. i;o 
 
 Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's 
 hot fire. 
 But qualify the fire's^ extreme rage. 
 Lest it should burn above the bounds of 
 reason. 
 Jul. The more thou dainm'st it up, the 
 more it burns. 
 The current that with gentle murmur glides. 
 Thou know'st, being stojip'd, impatiently dotli 
 
 rage ; 
 But when his fair course is not hindered. 
 He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd 
 
 stones, 
 Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
 He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, so 
 
 And so by many winding nooks he strays 
 With willing sport, to the wild ocean. 
 Then let me go, and hinder not my cour.se: 
 I '11 be as patient as a gentle stream, 
 And make a jmstime of each weary stej), 
 Till the last step have brought me to my love; 
 And there I '11 rest, as, after much turmoil, 
 A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 
 
 Lite. But in what habit will you go along? 
 Jul. Not like a woman ; for I would pre- 
 vent 40 
 The loose encounters of la.scivious men : 
 Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
 As may beseem some well-re])ute(l page. 
 Luc. Why, then, your ladyshijj must cut 
 your hair. 
 
 3 Fire's, a dissyllable here. 
 143
 
 ACT II. Scene 7. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Jul. No, girl ; I '11 knit it up iu silken 
 strings 4:. 
 
 With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. 
 To be fantastic may become a youth 
 Of greater time than I shall show to be. 
 ) \_Lu<\ What fashion, madam, shall I make 
 your breeches ? 
 Jul. That tits as well as — "Tell me, good 
 my lord, oO 
 
 What compass will you wear your farthingale? " 
 Why ev'n what fashion thou best lik'st, Lu- 
 cetta. 
 Lxic. You must needs have them with a 
 
 codpiece, madam. 
 Jul. Out, out, Lucettal that will be ill- 
 
 favour'd. 
 Luc. A lound hose, madam, now's not 
 worth a })in. 
 Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. 
 Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me 
 have 
 What thou think'st meet and is most man- 
 
 ^ nerly. ] 
 But tell me, wench, how will the world rei)ute 
 
 me 
 For undertaking so unstaid a journey? 00 
 
 I fear me, it will make me scandaliz'd. 
 
 Luc. If you think so, then stay at home 
 
 and go not. 
 Jul. Nay, that I will not. 
 Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
 
 If Proteus like your journey when you come. 
 No matter who's displeas'd when you are 
 
 gone : 
 I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 
 
 Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear : 
 A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears, 
 And instances of infinite^ of love, 70 
 
 Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. 
 
 Luc. All these are servants to deceitful men. 
 Jul. Base men, that u.se them to so base 
 
 effect ! 
 But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth ; 
 His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles. 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
 His tears ])ure messengers sent from his heart, 
 His heart as far fiom fiaiul as heaven from 
 
 earth. 
 Luc. Pray heaven he prove so, %\hen you 
 
 come to him I 
 Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do liiui not 
 
 that wrong ^o 
 
 To bear a hard opinion of his truth : 
 Only deserve my love by loving him ; 
 And presently go with me to my chamber, 
 To take a note of what I stand in need of, 
 To furnish me u])on my longing journey. 
 All that is mine I leave at thy dispose. 
 My goods, my lands, my reputation; 
 Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. 
 Come, answer not, but to it jjresently I 
 I am impatient of my tarriance. \_E.veuni. 90 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. Milan. An ante-room in tlte 
 Dukds palace. 
 
 Enter Duke, Tuurio, and Proteus. 
 
 Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, 
 awhile ; 
 AVe have some secrets to confer about. 
 
 [Exit Thurio. 
 Now, tell me, Proteus, what 's your will with 
 me? 
 Pro. My gracious lord, that which I would 
 discover 
 The law of friendship bids me to conceal ; 
 But when I call to mind your gracious favours 
 144 
 
 Done to me, undeserving as I am, 
 
 ISIy duty j^ricks me on to utter that 
 
 Which else no worldly good should draw from 
 
 me. 
 Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my 
 
 friend, lo 
 
 This night intends to steal away your daughter: 
 Myself am one made privy to the jjlot. 
 T know you have determin'd to bestow her 
 On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; 
 And should she thus be stol'n away from you. 
 It would be much vexation to your age. 
 
 1 Infinite, infinity.
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 1. 
 
 Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose 
 To cross my friend in his intended drift 
 Than, by concealing it, heaj) on your head 
 A jmck of sorrows which would press you 
 
 down, -'0 
 
 Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. 
 Dulce. Proteus, I thank thee for thine 
 
 honest care ; 
 Which to i-equite, command me while I live. 
 This love of theirs myself have often seen, 
 Haply when they have judg'd me fast asleep; 
 And oftentimes have purpos'd to forbid 
 Sir- Valentine her company and my court : 
 But fearing lest my jealous aim^ might err. 
 And so unwoi'thily disgrace the man, — 
 A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd, — 30 
 I gave him gentle looks; thereby to find 
 That which thyself hast now^ disclos'd to me. 
 A nd, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, 
 Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested,'^ 
 I nightly lodge her in an upper tower. 
 The key whereof myself have ever kept ; 
 And thence she cannot be convey'd away. 
 Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd 
 
 a mean 
 How he her cliamber-window will ascend, 
 And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; 40 
 For which the youthful lover now is gone, 
 And this way comes he with it presently ; 
 Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. 
 But, good my lord, do it so cunningly 
 That my discovery be not aimed ^ at ; 
 For love of you, not hate unto my friend, 
 Hath made me publisher of this pretence. 
 Duke. UiJon mine honour, he shall never 
 
 know 
 That I had any light from thee of this. 
 Pro. Adieu, my lord; Sir Valentine is 
 
 coming. \^E.vit. on 
 
 Duh 
 
 Enter Valentine. 
 Sir Valentine, whither away so fast ? 
 
 Veil. Please it your grace, there is a mes- 
 senger 
 That stays to bear my letters to my friends. 
 And I am going to deliver them. 
 
 Dul-e. Be they of much import? 
 
 Val. The tenour of them doth but signify 
 
 My health, and happy being at j'our court, .or 
 Duke. Nay then, no matter ; stay with me 
 awhile ; 
 I am to Jjreak with thee of some affaire 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 » Mm, guess. "- Suggested, tempted. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 3 Aimed, guessed. 
 
 Pni. Jly gracious lurd, that which I would discover 
 The law of friendship bids me to conceal. 
 
 That touch me near, wherein thou must be 
 secret. oo 
 
 'T is not unknown to thee that I have sought 
 To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. 
 Val. I know it well, my lord ; and, sure, 
 the match 
 Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentle- 
 man 
 Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities 
 Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter : 
 Cannot your grace win her to fancy him? 
 Duke. No, trust me ; she is peevish, sullen, 
 froward, 
 Proud, di.sobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; 
 Neither regarding that she is my child, 70 
 Nor fearing me as if I were her father ; 
 And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, 
 Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; 
 145 10
 
 ACT 111. Sceue 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 And, where^ I thought the lenniaut of mine age 
 Should have been cherish'd by her child-Uke 
 
 duty, 
 I now am full resolv'd to take a wife. 
 And turn her out to who will take her in : 
 Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower ; 
 For me and my possessions she esteems not. 
 Val. What would your grace have me to 
 
 do in this? so 
 
 Dukx'. There is a lady in Milano hei'e 
 Whom I affect ; but she is nice and coy 
 And nought esteems my aged eloquence : 
 Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor — 
 For long agone I have forgot to court ; 
 Besides, the fashion of the time is chang'd — 
 How, and which way, I may bestow myself, 
 To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 
 
 Val. Win her with gifts, if she respect not 
 
 words : 
 Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 90 
 More than quick words, do move a woman's 
 
 mind. 
 Duke. But she did scorn a present that I 
 
 sent her. 
 Val. A woman sometimes scorns what 
 
 best contents her. 
 Send her another ; never give her o'er ; 
 For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
 If she do frown, 't is not in hate of you. 
 But rather to beget more love in you : 
 If she do chide, 't is not to have you gone ; 
 For why,2 the fools are mad, if left alone. 
 Take no repulse, whatever she doth say ; loo 
 For "get you gone," she doth not mean 
 
 " away I " 
 Flatter and praise, commend, extol their 
 
 graces ; 
 Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' 
 
 faces. 
 That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man. 
 If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 
 Duke. But she I mean is promis'd by her 
 
 friends 
 Unto a youthful gentleman of worth; 
 And kept severely from resort of men, 
 That no man hath access by day to her. 
 
 Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by 
 
 night. 110 
 
 1 Where, whereas 
 
 For trhy, becaiisc. 
 
 Duke. Ay, but the doors be lockd, and keys 
 kept safe, in 
 
 That no man hath recourse to her by night. 
 Val. What lets^ but one may enter at her 
 
 window? 
 Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the 
 ground. 
 And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it 
 Without apparent hazard of his life. 
 
 Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of 
 cords, 
 To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks. 
 Would serve to scale another Hero's tower. 
 So bold Leander would adventure it. i:;o 
 
 Duke. Now, as thou art a gentleman of 
 blood. 
 Advise me where I may have such a ladder. 
 Val. When would yuw use it? ja'ay, sir, tell 
 
 me that. 
 Duke. This very night; for Love is like a 
 child. 
 That longs fur every thing that he can come 
 by. 
 Val. By .seven o'clock I'll get you such a 
 
 ladder. 
 Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone: 
 How shall I best convey the ladder thither '. 
 Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may 
 bear it 
 U^nder a cloak that is of any length. 130 
 
 Duke. A cloak as long as thine will .serve 
 
 the turn? ^_ 
 
 Val. Ay, my good lord. ^M 
 
 Duke. Then let me see thy cloak: 
 
 I '11 get me one of such another length. 
 
 Val. Why, any cloak will serve the tuiii, 
 
 my lord. 
 Duke. How shall I fashion me to wear a 
 cloak ? — 
 I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. — 
 What letter is this same? What's here? "To 
 
 Silvial" 
 And here an engine fit for my proceeding, 
 I '11 be so bold to break the seal for once. 
 
 [Beads. 
 
 " My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, 140 
 
 And .slaves they are to me that send them flj'ing 
 O, could their master come and go as lightly, 
 
 3 Lets, hinders. 
 
 ! 
 
 14()
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Hira.self would lodge where senseless they ai-e 
 lying : 143 
 
 My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them ; 
 
 While I, their king, that hither them importune, 
 Do curse the grace that mth such grace hath bless'd 
 them, 
 Because myself do want my servants' fortune: 
 I curse myself, for they are sent by me, 
 That they should harbour where their lord would 
 be." 
 
 \Yliut' s here? 150 
 
 " Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee." 
 
 Tis so; and here 's the ladder for the purpose. 
 Why, Phaethon, — for thou art Meroj^s' son, — 
 Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car, 
 Anfl with thy daring folly burn the world ? 
 Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on 
 thee? 
 
 Duke. Go, base intruder ! overweening slave ! 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates. 
 
 Go, base intruder! overweening slave I 
 Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates; 
 And think my patience, more than thy desert, 
 Is privilege for thy departure hence: lOO 
 
 Thank me for this more than for all the fa- 
 vours 
 Which, all too much, I have bestowed on thee. 
 But if thou linger in my territories 
 Longer than swiftest exj^edition 
 Will give thee time to leave our royal court. 
 By heaven I my wrath shall far exceed the 
 
 love 
 I ever bore my daughter or thyself. 
 Be gone! I will not he.ar thy vain excuse; 
 
 But, as thou lov'st thy life, make speed from 
 
 hence. \^Ea;it. 
 
 Val. And why not death rather than living 
 
 torment? ITO 
 
 To die is to be banish'd from myself ; 
 
 And Silvia is myself : banish'd from liei- 
 
 Is self from self: a deadly banishment! 
 
 What light is light, if Silvia be not seen ? 
 
 What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? 
 
 Unless it be to think that she is by, 
 
 And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
 
 Except I be by Silvia in the night, 
 
 There is no music in the nightingale; 
 
 LTnless I look on Silvia in the day, ISO 
 
 147
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 There is no day for me to look upon; isi 
 
 She is my essence, and I leave ^ to be, 
 If I be not by her fair influence 
 Foster'd, illumin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. 
 I fly not death, to fly- his deadly doom: 
 Tarry I here, I but attend on deatli: 
 But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. 
 
 Eater Proteus and Launce. 
 
 Pro. Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. 
 Launce. Soho, sohol 
 
 Pro. What see'st thou ? loo 
 
 Launce. Him we go to find: there's not a 
 hair on 's head but 't is a Valentine. 
 \ Pro. ^Valentine? 
 Val. No. 
 
 > Pro. Who then? his spirit ? 
 } Val. Neither. 
 
 Pro. What then? 
 
 > Val. Nothing. 
 
 ( Launce. Can nothing speak? Master, shall 
 '( I strike? 
 
 t Pro. Who wouldst thou strike? 200 
 
 ( Launce. Nothing. 
 ( Pro. Villain, forbear. 
 
 ( Laxince. Why, sir, I '11 strike nothing I 
 \ pray you,— 
 
 \ Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear. ] Friend Valen- 
 tine, a word. 
 Vcd. My ears are stopt, and cannot hear g<Jod 
 news. 
 So much of l)ad already hath possess'd them. 
 Pro. Then in dumb silence will I bury 
 mine. 
 For they are harsh, untuneable, and bad. 
 Val. Is Silvia dead ? 
 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 210 
 
 Val. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Sil- 
 via! — 
 Hath she forsworn me? 
 Pro. No, Valentine. 
 
 Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have forswoiu 
 me! — 
 What is your news? 
 
 Launce. Sir, there is a proclamation that you 
 
 are vanished. 
 Pro. That thou art l)anished — O, that 's the 
 news!— 
 
 1 Leave, cease. 
 
 2 To J\y, i.e. by flying. 
 
 Yn>\n hence, from Silvia, and from me thy 
 
 friend. 
 Val. O, I have fed u])on this woe already. 
 And now excess of it will make me surfeit. 220 
 Doth Silvia know that I am banished? 
 
 Pro. Ay, ay ; and she hath ofter'd to the 
 
 doom — 
 Which, unrevers'd, stands in eff"ectual force — 
 A sea of melting j)earl, which some call tears: 
 Those at her father's churlish feet she ten- 
 
 der'd; 
 With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
 AVringing her hands, whose whiteness so be- 
 came them 
 As if but now they waxed ])ale for Avoe: 
 But neither bended knees, pure hands held up. 
 Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver- shedding 
 
 tears, 230 
 
 Could penetrate her unccnupassionate sire; 
 But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. 
 Besides, her intercession chaf'd him so, 
 When she for thy rejjeal was suppliant. 
 That to close prison he commanded her. 
 With many bitter threats of biding there. 
 Val. No more; unle.ss the next wdrd that 
 
 thou speak 'st 
 Have some malignant power upon my life: 
 If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear. 
 As ending anthem of my endless dolour. 240 
 Pro. Cease to lament for that thou canst not 
 
 help, 
 And study help for that which thou lament'st. 
 Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. 
 Here if thou stay, thou canst not .see thy 
 
 love ; 
 Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. 
 Hope is a lover's staff"; walk hence Avith that, 
 And manage it against despairing thoughts. 
 Thy letters may be here, though thou art 
 
 hence ; 
 Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd 
 Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. 250 
 The time now serves not to expostulate: 
 Come, I '11 convey thee through the city-gate; 
 And, ere I part with thee, confer at large 
 Of all that may concern thy love-aflfairs. 
 As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself. 
 Regard thy danger, and along^ with me! 
 
 " Along, i.e. come along. 
 
 148 
 
 IBI
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Veil. I jjray thee, Launce, an if thou seest 
 my boy, 
 Bid him make haste and meet me at the North- 
 gate. 
 Pro. Go, sirrah, tind him out. Come, Valen- 
 tine. 259 
 Veil. O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! 
 [Exeiint Valentine and Proteus. 
 Launce. I am but a fool, look you; and yet 
 I have the wit to think my master is a kind 
 of a knave : but that 's all one, if he be but one 
 knave. He lives not now that knows me to 
 be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of 
 horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 
 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what 
 woman, I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a 
 milkmaid; yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath 
 had gossips; yet 'tis a maid, for she is her mas- 
 ter's maid, and serves for wages. She hath 
 more qualities than a water-sjianiel; which is 
 much in a bare Christian. [Pulling out a 
 pupa'] Here is the cate-log^ of her conditions.- 
 " Imprimis: She can fetch and carry." 
 
 Why, a horse can do no more: nay, a horse 
 cannot fetch, but only carry; therefore is she 
 better than a jade. 
 
 " Item: She can milk: " 
 
 look you, a sweet virtue in a maid with clean 
 hands. 
 
 Enter Speed. 
 
 Speed. How now, Signior Launce ! what news 
 with your mastership? 2.so 
 
 Launce. With my master's ship? why, it is 
 at sea. 
 
 Speed. Well, your old vice still; mistake the 
 word. What news, then, in your paper? 
 
 Launce. The black'st news that ever thou 
 heard'st. 
 
 Speed. Why, man, how black? 
 
 Launce. Why, as black as ink. 
 
 Speed. Let me read them. 
 
 Launce. Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst 
 not read. 290 
 
 Speed. Thou liest; I can. 
 
 Launce. I will try thee. Tell me this: who 
 begot thee? 
 
 1 Cate-log, catalogue. - Conditions, qualities. 
 
 Speed. Many, the son of my grandfather. 
 
 Launce. O illiterate loiterer! it was the son 
 of thy grandmother : this proves that thou 
 canst not read. 
 
 Sjjeed. Come, fool, come; try me in thy 
 paper. 
 
 Launce. There; and Saint Nicholas be thy 
 speed ! soi 
 
 Speed. [Reads] " Imprimis: She can milk." 
 
 Launce. Ay, that she can. 
 
 Speed. " Item: She brews good ale." 
 
 Launce. And thereof comes the proverb: 
 " Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale." 
 
 Speed. "Item: She can sew." 
 
 Launce. That's as much as to say. Can she 
 so? 
 
 Speed. " Item: She can knit." 310 
 
 Launce. What need a man care for a stock 
 with a wench, when she can knit him a stock? 
 
 Speed. " Item: She can wash and scour." 
 
 Launce. A special virtue; for then she need 
 not be wash'd and scoui'd. 
 
 Speed. " Item: She can spin." 
 
 Launce. Then may I set the world on wheels, 
 when she can spin for her living. 3i9 
 
 Q Speed. ' ' Item : She hath many nameless virtues. " ; 
 
 Launce. That 's as much as to say, bastard \ 
 virtues; that, indeed, know not their fathers, S 
 and therefore have no names. \ 
 
 Speed. "Here follow her vices." ) 
 
 Launce. Close at the heels of her virtues. ) 
 
 Speed. ' ' Item : She is not to be kissed fasting, / 
 in respect of her breath." ) 
 
 Launce. Well, that fault may be mended^ 
 with a breakfast. Read on. ^ 
 
 Speed. "Item: She hath a sweet mouth." 330/ 
 
 Launce. That makes amends for her sour;- 
 breath. ] ^ 
 
 Speed. " Item: She doth talk in her sleep." 
 
 Launce. It's no matter for that, so she 
 sleep not in her talk. 
 
 Speed. " Item: She is slow in words." 
 
 Launce. O villain, that set this down among 
 her vices! To be slow in words is a woman's 
 only virtue : I pray thee, out with't, and jjlace 
 it for her chief virtue. 340 
 
 Speed. £ " Item : She is proud." ; 
 
 Launce. Out with that too; it was Eve's; 
 legacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. ) 
 
 Speed. "Item: She hath no teeth." I 
 
 149
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO (JENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Sceuo 2. 
 
 I Linince. I care not for tliat neither, because 
 
 <I love crusts. 
 
 \ Speed. "Item: She is curst. "i 
 
 \ Launce. Well, the best is, she hath no teeth 
 
 <tobite. ] :;.-,o 
 
 Speed. " Item : She will often praise her li.iuor." 
 
 Launce. If her liquor be good, she .shall : if 
 .she will not, I will ; for good things should be 
 praised. 
 
 ( ^ Speed. " Item : She is too liberal."* 
 ( Lauiice. Of her tongue she cannot, for that's 
 <!-wnt down she is slow of; of her pur.se she 
 ^ shall not, for that I'll keep .shut: now, of 
 ^another thing .she may, and that cannot I 
 ^^help. Well, proceed. :!(;o 
 
 ^ Speed. " Item: She hath more hair than wit, and 
 j;more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults." 
 j Launce. Stop there ; I '11 have her : she was 
 ^mine, and not mine, twice or thrice in that 
 ^last article. Eehearse that once more. 
 I Speed. " Item : She hath more hair than wit,"— 
 I Launce. More hair than wit? It maybe; 
 :I'll prove it. The cover of the salt hides the 
 >salt, and therefore it is more than the salt; 
 ;the hair that covers the wit is more than tlie 
 ;wit, for the greater hides the less. What's 
 I next? 
 
 / Speed. " And more faults than liairs," — 
 ; Launce. That's monstrous: O, that that 
 ' were out ! 
 
 ^ Speed. " And more wealth than faults." 
 ^ Launce. Why, that word makes the faults 
 '. gracious. ] Well, I '11 have her : and if it be 
 a match, as nothing is impossible, — 
 
 Speed. What then ? :{so 
 
 Launce. Why, then will I tell thee — that tliy 
 master stays for thee at the North-gate. 
 
 Speed. For me ? 
 
 La%i,me. For thee! ay, who art thou? he 
 hath stay'd for a better man than thee. 
 
 Speed. And must I go to him? 
 
 Launce. Thou must run to him, for thou 
 hast stay'd so long, that going will scarce serve 
 the turn. 
 
 Speed. Why didst not tell me .sooner? pox 
 of your love-letters ! {Exit. y9i 
 
 Launce. Now will he be swing'd^ for read- 
 
 1 Curst, shrewisli. 
 
 3 SwiiKj'd. vvliipiioil. 
 
 2 Liberal, wanton. 
 
 ing my letter ; an unmannerly slave, that will 
 thrust himself into seci'ets ! I '11 after, to re- 
 joice in the boy's correction. [Kvit. 
 
 ScKXE II. T/ie same. A room in the Duke's 
 palace. 
 
 Enter Duke and Thurio. 
 
 Dulce. Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will 
 love you, 
 Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. 
 Thu. Since his exOe she hath desjji.s'd me 
 most. 
 Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me. 
 That I am desperate of obtaining hei'. 
 
 Duke. This Aveak im])ress of love is as a 
 figure 
 Trenched* in ice, which with an hour's heat 
 Dissolves to water, and dotli lose his form. 
 A little time will melt her frozen thoughts. 
 And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. lo 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 How now, Sir Proteus I Is your countryman, 
 According to our ])roclamation, gone? 
 Pro. Gone, my good lord. 
 Duke. My daughter takes his going griev- 
 
 ou.sly. 
 Pro. A little time, my lord, will kill that 
 
 grief. 
 Duke. So I believe ; but Thui-io tliinks 
 not so. 
 Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee — 
 For thou hast shown some sign of good desert — ■ 
 Makes me the better to confer with thee. 
 Pro. Longer than I prove loyal to your 
 grace 20 
 
 Let me not live to look upon your grace. 
 Duke. Thou know'st how Mdllingly I would 
 effect 
 The match between Sir Thui-io and my 
 daughter. 
 Pro. I do, my lord. 
 
 Duke. Also, I think, thou art not ignorant 
 How she opposes her against my will. 
 
 Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was 
 
 here. 
 Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. 
 
 < Trenched, carved. 
 
 loO
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT HI. Scene 2. 
 
 What might we do to make the girl forget 
 The love of Valentine, and love Sir Thurio 1 ?,o 
 
 Pro. The best way is to slander Valentine 
 With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; 
 Three things that women highly hold in hate. 
 Btike. Ay, but she '11 think that it is sjjoke 
 
 in hate. 
 Fro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it: 
 Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken 
 By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. 
 Bid-e. Then you must undertake to slander 
 
 him. 
 Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loath 
 
 to do : 
 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, 40 
 
 Especially against his very^ friend. 
 
 Duke. Where your good woi-d cannot ad- 
 vantage him, 
 Your slander never can endamage him ; 
 Therefore the office is indifferent, 
 Being entreated to it by your friend. 
 
 Pro. You have jjrevailM, my lord : if I can 
 
 do it 
 By aught that I can speak in his dispraise. 
 She shall not long continue love to him. 
 But say this weed her love from Valentine, 
 It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. 50 
 Thic. Therefore, as you unwind her love 
 
 from him, 
 Lest it should ravel and be good to none. 
 You must provide to bottom it on me; 
 Which must be done by praising me as much 
 As you in worth dispraise Sii' Valentine. 
 Duke. And, Proteus, we dare trust you in 
 
 this kind. 
 Because we know, on Valentine's repoit. 
 You are already Love's firm votary, 
 And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
 Upon this warrant shall you have access 00 
 Where you with Silvia may confer at large ; 
 For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy. 
 And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of 
 
 you; 
 Where you may temper her, by your jsersua- 
 
 sion, 
 
 I Very, true. 
 
 To hate young Valentine and love my friend. 
 Pro. As much as I can do, I will effect: 00 
 But you. Sir Thurio, are not sharjJ enough; 
 You must lay lime- to tangle her desires 
 By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
 Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. 
 Dul-e. Ay, ri 
 
 Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. 
 
 Pro. Say that upon the altar of her beauty 
 You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your 
 
 heart : 
 Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears 
 Moist it again; and frame some feeling line 
 That may discover such integrity: 
 For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' 
 
 sinews. 
 Whose golden touch could soften steel and 
 
 stones, 
 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans so 
 Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 After your dire-lamenting elegies. 
 Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
 With some sweet concert ; to their instru- 
 ments 
 Tune a deploring dumjj;^ the night's dead 
 
 silence 
 Will well become such sweet -complaining 
 
 grievance. 
 This, or else nothing, will inherit* her. 
 
 Dule. This discipline shows thou hast been 
 
 in love. 
 Thu. And thy advice this night I '11 put in 
 
 practice. 
 Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver. 
 Let us into the city presently 91 
 
 To sort" some gentlemen well skill'd in music. 
 I have a sonnet that will serve the turn 
 To give the onset to thy good advice. 
 Duke. About it, gentlemen ! 
 Pro. We '11 wait upon your grace till after 
 
 supper. 
 And afterward determine our proceedings. 
 Duke. Even now about it ! I will pardon 
 
 you. \_Exeunt. 9S 
 
 2 Lime, binl-linie. 
 * Inherit, win. 
 
 3 Dump, slow, nielanclioly tune. 
 5 Sort, select, choose out. 
 1.^1
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 ACT I\ 
 
 Scene I. ^1 forest beficeen Milan and Mantua 
 
 Enter certain Oatlavs. 
 
 First Out. Fellows, stand fiiat ; I see a jjcO-s- 
 
 senger. 
 fiec. Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but 
 
 down witli 'em. 
 
 Enter Valentine and Speed. 
 
 Third Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that 
 you have about ye: 
 If not, we '11 make you sit and rifle you. 
 Speed. Sir, sir, we are undone ; these are 
 the villains "> 
 
 That all the travellers do fear so much. 
 
 mif -^////ifM//|^->,^^/4^ 
 
 Third Ottt. Stand, sir, and throw us that you have aljout yt 
 
 Val. My friends, — 
 
 First Out. That's not so, sir: we are your 
 
 enemies. 
 Sec. Out. Peace ! we '11 hear him. 
 Third Out. Ay, by my beard, will we, for 
 he 's a proper^ man. lo 
 
 Val. Then know that I have little wealth 
 to lose: 
 A man I am cross'd with adversity; 
 My riches are these ])Oor habiliments, 
 
 1 Proper, well-shaped. 
 ir)2 
 
 Of which if you should here disfurnish me. 
 You take the sum and substance that I have. 
 
 Sec. Out. Whither travel you? 
 
 Val. To Verona. 
 
 First Out. Whence came you? 
 
 VaL From Milan. 19 
 
 Third Out. Have you long sojourn'd there? 
 
 Val. Some sixteen months, and longer might 
 have staid. 
 If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 
 
 First Out. What, were you banisli'd thence? 
 
 Val. I was. 
 
 1
 
 ACT IV. Sceue 1. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene % 
 
 Sec. Out. For what offence 1 2". 
 
 Val. Foi- that which now toi-ments me to 
 rehearse : 
 I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; 
 But yet I slew him manfully in fight, 
 Without false vantage or base treachery. 
 First Out. Why, ne'er repent it, if it were 
 done so. 30 
 
 But were you banish'd for so small a fault I 
 Val. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 
 ^'et'. Out. Have you the tongues 1^ 
 Val. My youthful travel therein made me 
 happy, 
 Or else I often had been miserable. 
 
 Third Out. By the bare scalp of Eobin 
 Hood's fat friar. 
 This fellow were a king for our wild faction ! 
 First Out. We '11 have him. Sirs, a word. 
 Speed. Master, be one of them ; it 's an hon- 
 ourable kind of thievery. 40 
 Val. Peace, villain I 
 See. Out. Tell us this: have you anything to 
 
 take to ? 
 Val. Nothing but my fortune. 
 Third Out. Know, then, that some of us are 
 gentlemen. 
 Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth 
 Thrust from the company of awful men :- 
 Myself was from Verona banished 
 For practising to steal away a lady. 
 An heir, and niece'^ allied unto the duke. 
 Sec. Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentle- 
 man, 50 
 Who, in my mood,* I stabb'd unto the heart. 
 First Out. And I for such like petty crimes 
 as these. 
 But to the purpose — for we cite our faults. 
 That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; 
 And partly, seing you are beautified 
 With goodly shape, and by your own report 
 A linguist, and a man of such perfection 
 As we do in our quality much want — 
 
 Sec. Out. Indeed, because you are a banish'd 
 man. 
 Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you : 
 Are you content to be our general ? ei 
 
 To make a virtue of necessity, 
 
 1 Have you the tongues?— are you a linguist? 
 
 2 Au'ful men, men wlio respect tlie law. 
 
 3 Niece, relation. * Mood, anger. 
 
 And live, as we do, in this wilderness'^ G3 
 
 Third Out. What say'st thou ? wilt thou be 
 of our cons6it ? '^ 
 Say ay, and be the captain of us all : 
 We '11 do thee homage and be rul'd by thee. 
 Love thee as our commander and our king. 
 First Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, 
 
 thou diest. 
 Sec. Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what 
 
 we have offer'd. 
 Val. I take your oflPer, and will live with 
 you, 70 
 
 Provided that you do no outrages 
 On silly*' women or poor passengers. 
 
 Third Out. No, we detest such vile base 
 practices. 
 Come, go with us, we '11 bring thee to our caves. 
 And show thee all the treasure we have got; 
 Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 
 
 \_E.i'eiint. 
 
 Scene II. Milan. Outside the Duke^s palace^ 
 XDvder Silvia's chamber. 
 
 Enter Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Already I 've been false to Valentine, 
 And now must be unjust to Thui'io. 
 Under the colour of commending him, 
 I have access my own love to prefer : 
 But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy. 
 To be corrujited with my worthless gifts. 
 When I protest true loyalty to her, 
 She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; 
 When to her beauty I commend my vows. 
 She bids me think how I have been forsworn 
 In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov'd: ii 
 And notwithstanding all her sudden quips,'' 
 The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, 
 Yet, si^aniel-like, the more she spurns my love. 
 The more it grows, and fawneth on her still. 
 But here comes Thurio : now must we to her 
 
 window. 
 And give some evening music to her ear. 
 
 Enter Thurio and Musicians. 
 
 Thu. How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept 
 before us? 
 
 5 Consort, company. 
 ' Quips, reproaches. 
 
 " Silly, weak, helpless. 
 
 153
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know that 
 love 
 Will creep in sei'vice where it cannot go. 20 
 Thu. Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not 
 
 here. 
 Pro. Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. 
 Thu. AVho? Silvia? 
 
 Pro. Ay, Silvia, — for your sake. 
 
 Thu. I thank you for your own. — Now, gen- 
 tlemen. 
 Let 's tune, and to it lustily awhile. 
 
 Enter, at a distance, Host, and Julia in 
 bo)/'s clothes. 
 
 Host. Now, my young guest, methinks 
 you're allycholly;! I j)ray you, why is it? 
 
 Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be 
 merry. 29 
 
 Host. Come, we '11 have you merry : I '11 
 bring you where you shall hear music and see 
 the gentleman that you ask'd for. 
 
 Jul. But shall I hear him speak ? 
 
 Host. Ay, that you shall. 
 
 Jul. That will be music. [^Music plays. 
 
 Host. Hark, hark ! 
 
 Jtd. Is he among these? 
 
 Host. Ay : but, peace, let 's hear 'em. 
 
 Song. 
 Who is Silvia? what is she, 
 
 That all our swains commend her? 40 
 
 Holy, fair and wise is she; 
 
 The heaven such grace did lend her, 
 That she might admired be. 
 
 Is she kind as she is fair? 
 
 For beauty lives with kindness. 
 Love doth to her eyes repair, 
 
 To help him of his blindness, 
 And, being help'd, inhabits there. 
 
 Then to Silvia let us sing, 
 
 That Silvia is excelling; .'iO 
 
 She excels each mortal thing 
 
 Upon the dull earth dwelling: 
 To her let us garlands bring. 
 
 Host. How now ! are you sadder than you 
 were before? How do you, man? the music 
 likes you not. 
 
 Jul. You mistake; the musician likes me not. 
 
 Host. Why, my pretty youth? 
 
 1 AllijchoUi/. niel.nncholj'. 
 154 
 
 Jul. He plays false, father. 
 
 Host. How? out of tune on the strings? co 
 
 Jul. Not so; but yet so false that he grieves 
 my very heart-strings. 
 
 Host. You have a quick ear. 
 
 Jul. Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me 
 have a slow heait. 
 
 Ho,<(f. I perceive you delight not in music. 
 
 Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 
 
 Host. Hark, what tine change is in the 
 music I 
 
 Jul. Ay, that change is the spite. 
 
 Host. You would have them always play 
 but one thing? 71 
 
 Jid. I would always have one play but one 
 thing. 
 But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on 
 Often re-sort unto this gentlewoman? 
 
 Jlost. I tell you what Launce, his man, told 
 me: he loved her out of all nick.- 
 
 Jid. Where is Launce? 
 
 Host. Gone to seek his dog ; which to-mor- 
 row, by his master's command, he must carry 
 for a present to his lady. so 
 
 Jid. Peace ! stand aside: the com])any ]iarts. 
 
 Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you : I will so 
 plead 
 That you shall say my cumiing drift excels. 
 
 Thu. Where meet we? 
 
 Pro. At Saint Gregory's well. 
 
 Thu. Farewell. 
 
 [E.veunt Thurio and Musicians. 
 
 Silvia appears above, at her window. 
 
 Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 
 t^il. I thank you for your music, gentlemen. 
 Who is that that spake ? 
 
 Pro. One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's 
 
 truth. 
 You 'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. 
 fSil. Sir Proteus, as I take it. 90 
 
 Pro. Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your 
 
 servant. 
 >S'i7. What's your will? 
 
 Pro. That I may com])ass^ yours. 
 
 ,Sil. You have your wish; my will is even 
 
 this, — 
 
 2 Out of all mck, beyond nil reckoning 
 
 3 CompcLtK, iicconiplisli.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. iSceue 3. 
 
 That presently you hie you home to bed. 04 
 Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man ! 
 Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, ^ 
 To be seduced by thy flattery, 
 That hast deceiv'd so many with thy vows? 
 Beturn, return, and make thy love amends. 
 For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, 
 I am so far from granting thy request, loi 
 That I desi)ise thee fur thy wrongful suit. 
 And by and by intend to chide myself 
 Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. 
 
 Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a 
 lady; 
 But she is dead. 
 
 Jul. \_Aside\ 'T were false, if I should s^jeak it; 
 For I am sure she is not buried. 
 
 Sil. Say that she be; yet Valentine thy 
 friend 
 Survives; to whom, thyself art witness, no 
 I am betroth'd : and art thou not asham'd 
 To wrong him with thy importunacy? 
 
 Pro. I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. 
 
 Sil. And so suppose am I; for in his grave 
 Assure thyself my love is buried. 
 
 Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake it from the 
 earth. 
 
 ISil. Go to thy lady's grave and call hers 
 thence. 
 Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine. 
 
 Jul. \_Asi(le\ He heard not that. 
 
 Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
 Vouchsafe me yet your jjicture for my love, 121 
 The i^icture that is hanging in your chamber; 
 To that I '11 speak, to that I '11 sigh and weep : 
 For since the substance of your perfect self 
 Is else- devoted, I am but a shadow; 
 And to your shadow will I make true love. 
 
 Jul. [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you 
 would, sure, deceive it, 
 And make it but a shadow, as I am. 
 
 Sil. I am very loath to be your idol, sir; 
 But since your falsehood shall become you well 
 To worship shadows and adore false shapes, 131 
 Send to me in the morning, and I '11 send it: 
 And so, good rest. 
 
 Pro. As wretches have o'ernight 
 
 That wait for execution in the morn. 
 
 [Exeunt Proteus and Silvia, severalli/. 
 
 ' Conceitless, iiiiiiitelligent. 
 
 •^ Else, elsewhere. 
 
 Jul. Host, will you go? 134 
 
 Host. By my halidom, I was fast asleep. 
 Jul. Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? 
 Host. Many, at my house. Trust me, I 
 think 't is almost day. 
 
 Jul. Not so; but it hath been the longest 
 night 
 That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. 141 
 
 [E.veunt. 
 
 Scene III. T/te same. 
 
 Enter Eglamour. 
 
 E(/l. This is the hour that Madam Silvia 
 Entreated me to call and know her mind: 
 There 's some great matter she 'd employ me in. 
 Madam I 
 
 Silvia re-ajjpcars above, at her window. 
 
 Sil. Who calls? 
 
 Egl. Your servant and your friend ; 
 
 One that attends your ladyship's command. 
 
 Sil. Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good 
 morrow. 
 
 Egl. As many, worthy lady, to yourself: 
 According to your ladyship's impose,'' 
 I am thus early come to know what seivice 
 It is your pleasure to command me in. 10 
 
 Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman — 
 Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not — 
 One valiant, wise, remorseful,* well-accom- 
 
 2:)lish'd : 
 Thou art not ignorant what dear good will 
 I bear unto the banish'd Valentine, 
 Nor how my father woidd enforce me marry 
 Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhor'd. 
 Thyself hast lov'd; and I have heard thee say 
 No giief did ever come so near thy heart 
 As when thy lady and thy true love died, 20 
 Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. 
 Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, 
 To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode; 
 And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, 
 I do desire thy worthy company, 
 U2:)on whose faith and honour I rejaose. 
 Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, 
 But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, 
 And on the justice of my flying hence. 
 
 3 Impose, injunction. 
 
 ■• Remorseful, pitiful. 
 
 155
 
 ACT IV. Scene :!. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Sceue i. 
 
 To keep me fi'oiu a most unholy match, 30 
 Which heaven and fortune still rewards with 
 
 plagues. 
 I do desire thee, even from a heart 
 As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, 
 To Ijear me comj:)any and go with me: 
 If not, to hide what I have said to thee. 
 That I may venture to depart alone. 
 
 ■''*'* y'' ^y^i 
 
 Lavnce. " Friend," quoth I, "you mean to whip the dog?" 
 " Ay, mjirry , do 1," quoth he. 
 
 Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances;^ 
 Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd, 
 I give consent to go along with you, 
 Recking- as little what betideth me 40 
 
 As much I wish all good befortune you. 
 When will you go] 
 
 Sil. This comuig evening. 
 
 Ejl. Where shall I meet you ^ 
 
 1 Your grievances, tlie causes of your grief. 
 - lieclcing, caring for. 
 156 
 
 Sil. At Friar Patrick's cell, 
 
 Where I intend holy confession. 
 
 Uffl. I will not fail your ladyship. Good 
 morrow, gentle lady. 
 
 Sil. Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. 47 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene IV. The same. 
 
 Enter Lauxce, icith his dog. 
 
 Launce. When a man's servant shall play 
 the cur with him, look you, it goes hard : one 
 that I brought up of a puppy ; one that I 
 sav'd from drowning, w'hen three or four of 
 his blind brothers and sisters went 10 it. I 
 have taught him — even as one would say pre- 
 cisely, "thus I would teach a dog." I was 
 sent to deliver him as a present to Mistress 
 Silvia from my master; and I came no sooner 
 into the dining-chamber, but he steps me to 
 her trencher, and steals her capon's leg: O, 't is 
 a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself 
 in all companies! QI would have, as one 
 should say, one that takes upon him to be a^ 
 dog indeed, to be, a.s it were, a dog at all^ 
 things. If I had not had more wit than he, ^ 
 to take a fault upon me that he did, I think ^ 
 verily he had been hang'd for't; sure as I^ 
 live, he had suffer'd for 't: you shall judge. He^ 
 thrusts me himself into the company of three ; 
 or four gentlemanlike dogs, under the duke's^ 
 table : he had not been there — bless the mark ! ', 
 — a pLssing while, but all the chamber smelt'- 
 him. "Out with the dogi" says one: "What/ 
 cur is that?" says another: "Whip him out"/ 
 says the third: "Hang him up" says the duke. / 
 I, having been acquainted with the smell./ 
 before, knew it was Crab, and goes me to the/ 
 fellow that whips the dogs: "Friend," quoth/ 
 I, " you mean to whip the dog ] " " Ay, marry, / 
 do I," quoth he. " You do him the more wrong,'' ; 
 quoth I; "'twas I did the thing you Avot of."/ 
 He makes me no more ado, but whips me out/ 
 of the chamber. How many masters would/ 
 do this for his servant ? Nay, ] I '11 be sworn, • 
 I have sat in the stocks for puddings he hath 
 stolen, otherwise he had been executed; I 
 have stood on the pillory for geese he hath 
 kill'd, otherwise he had suffer'd for 't — Thou 
 think'st not of this now. Q Nay, I remember
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 ; the trick you serv'd me when I took my leave 
 )of Madam Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark 
 [me and do as I do? when didst thou see me 
 Sheave up my leg and make water against a 
 gentlewoman's farthingale? didst thou ever 
 see me do such a trick ? ] 43 
 
 Enter Proteus and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Sebastian is thy name? I like thee 
 well, 
 And will employ thee in some service pres- 
 ently. 
 
 Jul. In what you please : I '11 do, sir, what 
 I can. 
 
 Pro. I hope thou wilt. [To La u nee] How 
 now, you whoreson peasant! 
 AVhere have you been these two days loiter- 
 ing? 
 
 Launce. Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Sil- 
 via the dog you bade me. ho 
 
 Pro. And what says she to my little jewel '. 
 
 Launce. Marry, she says your dog was a 
 cur, and tells you currish thanks is good 
 enough for such a present. 
 
 Pro. But she receiv'd my dog? 
 
 Launce. No, indeed, did .she not: here have 
 I brought him back again. 
 
 Pro. What, didst thou otfer her this cur 
 from me ? 50 
 
 Latuice. Ay, sir; the other squirrel was 
 stolen from me by the hangman boys in the 
 market-place : and then I ofFer'd her mine 
 own, who is a dog a.s big as ten of yours, and 
 therefore the gift the greater. 
 
 Pro. Go get thee hence, and find my dog 
 again, 
 Or ne'er return again into my sight. 
 Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here? 
 
 [E.vit Launce. 
 A slave, that still an end^ turns me to shame! 
 Sebastian, I have entertained thee. 
 Partly that I have need of such a youth, 69 
 That can with some discretion do my business; 
 For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout; 
 But chiefly for thy face and thy behaviour, 
 Which, if my augury deceive me not, 
 Witness good bringing up, fortune, and truth: 
 Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. 
 
 1 Still an end, commoDly. 
 
 Go presently and take this ring with thee, 
 
 Deliver it to Madam Silvia: 
 
 She lov'd me well deliver'd it to me. 
 
 Jul. It seems you lov'd not her, to leave^ her 
 token. 
 She is dead, belike? 
 
 Pro. Not so; I think she lives, so 
 
 Jitl. Alas! 
 
 Pro. Why dost thou cry "alas?" 
 
 Jul. I cannot choose 
 
 But pity her. 
 
 Pro. Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? 
 
 Jul. Because methinks that she lov'd you 
 as well 
 As you do love your lady Silvia: 
 She dreams on him that has forgot her love; 
 You dote on her that cares not for your love. 
 'T is pity love should be so contrary; 
 And thinking on it makes me cry "alas!" 
 
 Pro. Well, well, give her that ring, and 
 
 therewithal 00 
 
 This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my 
 
 lady 
 I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. 
 Your message done, hie home unto my cham- 
 ber. 
 Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. 
 
 [E.vit. 
 
 Jul. How many women would do such a 
 message ? 
 Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd 
 A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. 
 Alas, poor fool ! why do I pity him 
 That with his very heart despiseth me ? 
 Because he loves her, he despiseth me; 100 
 Because I love him, I must pity him. 
 This ring I gave him when he parted from 
 
 me. 
 To bind him to remember my good will ; 
 And now am I, unhappy messenger. 
 To plead for that which I would not obtain, 
 To cany that which I would have refus'd, 
 To praise his faith which I would have dis- 
 
 prais'd. 
 I am my master's true-confirmed love; 
 But cannot be true servant to my master, 
 Uidess I prove false traitor to myself. 110 
 
 Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly 
 
 - To leave, to part with. 
 157
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 As, heaven it knows, I would not have him 
 speed. 1 1 2 
 
 Enter Silvia, attended. 
 
 Gentlewoman, good day ! I pray you, be my 
 
 mean 
 To bring me where to speak with Madam Sil- 
 via. 
 Sil. What would you with her, if that I be 
 
 she? 
 Jul. If you be she, I do entreat your pa- 
 tience 
 To hear me speak the message I am sent on. 
 Sil. From whom? 
 
 Jid. From my master, Sir Pi'oteus, madam. 
 Sil. O, he sends you for a picture. iJO 
 
 Jid. Ay, madam. 
 Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. 
 
 [^The picture is brought bt/ an attendant. 
 
 Go give your master this: tell him from me. 
 
 One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget. 
 
 Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. 
 
 Jul. Madam, if 't please you, to jJcruse this 
 
 letter. — 
 
 [Giving her a letter. 
 Pardon me, madam; I have unadvis'd 
 Deliver'd yovi a paj)er that I should not: 
 This is the letter to your ladyship. \i9 
 
 [(Jiving another letter. 
 Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. 
 Jid. It may not be ; good madam, j)ardon me. 
 Sil. There, hold ! 
 
 [Giving bark the first letter. 
 I will not look upon your master's lines: 
 I know they are stuff'd with 2>rotestations, 
 And full of new-found oaths; which he will 
 
 break 
 As easily as I do tear his jDaper. 
 
 [Tears the second letter, 
 Jul. Madam, he sends your ladyship this 
 
 ring. 
 Sil. The more shame for him that he sends 
 it me; 
 For I have heard him say a thousand times 
 His Julia gave it him at his departure. 140 
 Though his false finger have profan'd the 
 
 ring, 
 Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. 
 Jul. [with emotion^ She thanks you. 
 Sil. What say'st thou? 
 158 
 
 Jul. [recovering her self-control] I thank you, 
 madam, that you tender her.^ 145 
 
 Poor gentlewoman I my master wrongs her 
 much. 
 
 Sil. Dost thou know her ? 
 
 Jid. Almost as well as I do know myself : 
 To think upon her woes I do })rotest 
 That I have wept a hundred several times. ir,o 
 
 Sil. Belike she thinks that Proteus hath for- 
 sook her. 
 
 Jul. I think she doth; and that's her cause 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Sil. Is she not passing fair? 
 
 Jul. She hath been fairer, madam, than 
 she is : 
 When she did think my master lov'd her well, 
 She, in my judgement, was as fair as you; 
 But since she did neglect her looking-glass. 
 And threw her sun-expelling mask away, 
 The air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks, 
 And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, ico 
 That now she is become as black as I. 
 
 Sil. How tall was she? 
 
 Jul. About my stature; for at Pentecost, 
 When all our j)ageants of delight were play'<l, 
 Our youth got me to ])lay the woman's ])art; 
 And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, 
 Which served me as fit, by all men's judg- 
 ments, 
 As if the garment had been made for me: 
 Thei-efore I know she is about my height. 
 And at that time I made her weep agood,- 170 
 For I did play a lamentable part : 
 Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning^ 
 For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight; 
 Which I so lively acted with my tears, 
 That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, 
 Wept bitterly ; and would I might be dead, 
 If I in thought felt not her very sonow I 
 
 Sil. She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. 
 Alas, poor lady, desolate and left ! 
 I weep myself to think upon thy words. ISO 
 Here, youth, there is my purse ; I give thee 
 
 this 
 For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou 
 
 lov'st her. 
 Farewell. [Exit Silvia with attendants. 
 
 1 Tender her, compassionate lier. 
 
 2 Agood, in good earnest. 
 
 8 Passioning, passionately grieving.
 
 ACT IV. Sceue 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 Jnl. 
 Thou sha 
 
 O thou I 
 orsliiiip"d, kiss' 
 
 euseless form, 
 
 d, lov'd and ador'd I 
 
 Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er 
 you know her. \vi 
 
 A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful I 
 I \\o\ye my master's suit will be but cold, 
 Since she resj^ects my mistress' love so much. 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself ! 
 Here is her picture : let me see ; I think, 
 If I had such a tire, this face of mine liio 
 
 Were full as lovely as is this of hers : 
 And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, 
 Unless I flatter with myself too much. 
 Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow : 
 If that be all the diffei'ence in his love, 
 I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. 
 Her eyes are as gray as glass, and so are mine: 
 Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine 's as high. 
 What should it be that he respects in her. 
 But I can make respective^ in myself, 200 
 
 If this fond Love were not a blinded god 1 
 Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, 
 For 't is thy rival. O thou senseless foi-m, 
 Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, lov'd and 
 
 ador'd ! 
 And, were there sense in his idolatry, 
 My substance should be statue in thy stead. 
 I '11 use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, 
 That us'd me so ; or else, by Jove I vow, 
 I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes, 
 To make my master out of love with thee ! 210 
 
 [E.vit. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. Milan. An abbey. 
 
 Enter Eglamour. 
 
 Egl. The sun begins to gild the western 
 sky; 
 And now it is about the very hour 
 Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me. 
 She will not fail, for lovers break not hours. 
 Unless it be to come before their time; 
 So much they spur their expedition. 
 See where she comes. 
 
 Enter Silvia, masl'ed. 
 
 Lady, a happy evening ! 
 Sil. Amen, amen I Go on, good Eglamour, 
 
 Out at the i:)ostern by the abbey wall : 
 I fear I am attended by some spies. 
 
 Egl. Fear not : the forest is not three 
 leagues off; 
 If we recover that, we are sure- enough. 12 
 
 [Eveunt. 
 
 Scene II. T/te same. A room in the 
 Uul-e's palace. 
 
 Enter Thurio, Proteus, and Julia. 
 
 T/iH. Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my 
 suit? 
 
 1 Respective, wortliy of i-espect. 
 
 159 
 
 - Sure, safe.
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 Pro. O, sir, I tiiul her milder tlian she was; 
 And yet she takes excejitions at your person. 
 Thu. What, that my leg is too long? 
 Pro. No ; that it is too little. 
 Thi. I '11 wear a boot, to make it somewhat 
 
 rounder. 
 Jul. [Jsu/c] But love will not be s])urr'd to 
 
 what it loathes. 
 Thu. What says she to my face? 
 Pro. She says it is a fair one. 
 Thu. Nay then, the wanton lies; my face 
 
 is black. lo 
 
 Pro. But pearls are fair; and the old say- 
 ing is, 
 Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. 
 Jul. \^Aside\ 'T is true ; such pearls as put 
 
 out ladies' eyes; 
 For I had rather wink than look on them. 
 Thu. How likes she my discourse? 
 Pro. Ill, Avhen you talk of wai*. 
 Thu. But well, when I discourse of love 
 
 and peace? 
 Jul. [Aside] But better, indeed, when you 
 
 hold your peace. 
 Thu. What says she to my valour? 
 Pro. O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. 20 
 Jul. \^Aside] She needs not, when she knows 
 
 it cowardice. 
 Thu. What says she to my birth? 
 Pro. That you are well deriv'd. 
 Jul. [Aside'] True ; h'(m\ a gentleman to a 
 
 fool. 
 Thu. Considers she my possessions? 
 Pro. 0, ay; and pities them. 
 Thti. Wherefore? 
 Jul. [Aside] That such an ass should owe' 
 
 them. 
 Pro. That they are out by lease. 
 Jid. Here comes the duke. 30 
 
 Enter Duke. 
 
 Duke. How now. Sir Proteus I how now, 
 Thurio ! 
 Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late ? 
 Thu. Not I. 
 
 Nor I. 
 
 Duke. 
 Pro. 
 
 Saw you my daughter? 
 Neither. 
 
 1 Owe, own. 
 160 
 
 Duke. Why then, 34 
 
 She's fled unto that pea-sant Valentine; 
 And Eglamour is in her company. 
 'T is true ; for Friar Laurence met them both, 
 As he in penance wander'd through the forest; 
 Him he knew well ; and guess'd that it was 
 
 she, 
 But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it : 40 
 Besides, she did intend confession 
 At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was 
 
 not; 
 These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. 
 Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, 
 But mount you presently; and meet with me 
 LTpon the rising of the mountain-foot 
 That leads toward Mantua, whither thev are 
 
 fled: 
 Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. 
 
 [E.cit. 
 Thu. Why, this it is to be a peevish girl. 
 That flies her fortune when it follows her. 50 
 I '11 after, more to be reveng'd on Eglamour 
 Than for the love of reckless Silvia. [Exit. 
 Pro. And I will follow, more for Silvia's 
 love 
 Than hate of Eglamour, that goes with her. 
 
 [E.x:it. 
 Jul. And 1 will follow, more to cross that 
 love 
 Than hate for Silvia, that is gone for love. 
 
 [E.vit. 
 
 Scene III. The forest hetu-ecn Milan 
 ami Mantua. 
 
 Enter Outlaws with Silvia. 
 
 First Out. Come, come; 
 Be patient ; we must bring you to our captain. 
 Sil. A thousand more mischances than this 
 one 
 Have learn'd me how to brook this j)atiently. 
 Sec. Out. Come, bring her away. 
 First Out. Where is the gentleman that 
 
 was with her? 
 Third Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath 
 outrun us, 
 But Moyses and Valerius follow him. 
 Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; 
 There is our ca})taiii : we'll follow him that's 
 fled ; 10

 
 ACT V. Sceue i. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 The thicket is beset ; he cannot scape. ii 
 
 [E-veunt all except thejirst Outlaw ami Silvia. 
 First Ont. Come, I must bring you to our 
 captain's cave : 
 Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind, 
 And will not use a woman lawlessly. 
 
 tiil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! 
 
 \Exeu)it. 
 
 Scene IV. Another part of the forest. 
 
 Eater Valentixe. 
 
 Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man I 
 These shadowy, deseit, unfrequented woods, 
 I better brook than flourishing jseopled towns: 
 Here can I sit alone, unseen of any. 
 And to the nightingale's complaining notes 
 Tune my distresses and record my woes. 
 O thou that dost inhabit in my breast. 
 Leave not the mansion so long tenantless. 
 Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall 
 And leave no memory of what it was I lo 
 
 Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
 Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn 
 
 swain 1 — \^Xoise within. 
 
 What halloing and what stir is this to-day >: 
 These are my mates, that make their wills 
 
 their law. 
 Have some unhappy passenger in chase. 
 They love me well ; yet I have much to do 
 To keep them from uncivil outrages. — 
 Withdraw thee, Valentine : who 's this comes 
 
 here ? [Retires. 
 
 Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia. 
 
 Pro. Madam, this sei'vice I have done for 
 you,— 
 Though you respect not aught your servant 
 
 doth, — 
 To hazard life and rescue you from him 21 
 That would have forc'd your honour and youi- 
 
 love; 
 Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; 
 A smaller boon than this I cannot beg. 
 And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
 Val. [Asidc'\ How like a dream is this I see 
 and hear ! 
 Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. 
 Sil. O miserable, unhapjjy that I am I 
 Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 But by my coming I have made you hajjpy. 30 
 Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most 
 
 unhappy. 
 Jid. \_Aside'\ And me, when he approacheth 
 
 to your presence. 
 Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, 
 I would have been a breakfast to the beast. 
 Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. 
 O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine, 
 Whose life 's as tender to me as my soul I 
 And full as much — for more thei'e cannot 
 
 be— 
 I do detest false perjur'd Proteus. 
 Therefore be gone ; solicit me no more. 40 
 
 Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next 
 to death. 
 Would I not undergo for one calm look 1 
 O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approv'd, 
 When women cannot love where they're 
 belov'd ! 
 Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he 's 
 belov'd. 
 Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love. 
 For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy 
 
 faith 
 Into a thousand oaths ; and all those oaths 
 Descended into perjury, to love me. 
 Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou 'dst 
 two ; 50 
 
 And that 's f ai' worse than none ; better have 
 
 none 
 Than plural faith, which is too much by one : 
 Thou counterfeit to thy true friend I 
 
 Pro. In love 
 
 Who respects friend? 
 
 Sil. All men but Proteus. 
 
 Pro. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving 
 words 
 Can no way change you to a milder form, 
 I '11 woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, 
 And love you 'gainst the nature of love, — 
 force ye. 
 Sil. O heaven! 
 
 Pro. I '11 force thee yield to my desire. 
 
 Val. [Coming forward] Rufhan, let go that 
 rude uncivil touch, 60 
 
 Thou friend of an ill fashion I 
 
 Pro. Valentine ! 
 
 Val. Thou common friend, that's without 
 faith or love, 
 
 161 11
 
 ACT V. Sceue 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEUONA. 
 
 ACT Y. Scene 4. 
 
 For such is a friend now; tlioii treacherous 
 
 man! o:j 
 
 Thou hast beguil'd my hoj)es; nought but 
 
 mine eye 
 Could have jjersuaded me : now I dare not say 
 I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove 
 
 me. 
 Who should be trusted, when one's own right 
 
 hand 
 Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, 
 I am sorry I must never trust thee more, 
 But count the world a stranger for thy sake. TO 
 The private wound is deepest: O time most 
 
 jiccurst, 
 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the 
 worst I 
 Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me. 
 Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow 
 Be a sufficient ransom for offence, 
 I tender 't here ; I do as truly suffer 
 As e'er I did commit.^ 
 
 Y<(1. Then I am paid; 
 
 And once again I do receive thee honest. 
 Who by repentance is not satisfied 
 Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are 
 pleas'd ; so 
 
 By penitence th' Eternal's wrath's appeas'd : 
 Anil, that my love may appear plain and free, 
 All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. 
 
 Jul. O me unhappy ! \S^L•nons. 
 
 Pro. Look to the boy. 
 Val. Why, boy ! why, wag* how now I 
 what's the matter? Lookup; speak. 
 
 Jul. O good sir, my master charg'd me to 
 deUver a ring to Madam Silvia, which, out of 
 my neglect, was never done. 90 
 
 Pro. Where is that ring, boy? 
 Jvl. Here 't is ; this is it. 
 
 [Gicing a ring. 
 Pro. How ! let me see : 
 Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. 
 
 Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook: 
 This is the ring you sent to Silvia. 
 
 {^Showing another ring. 
 Pro. But how cam'st thou by this ring? 
 
 At my depart I gave this unto Julia. 
 
 Jul. And Julia herself did give it me ; 
 
 And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 
 
 1 Commit, sin. 
 162 
 
 Pro. How! Julia I loo 
 
 Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy 
 oaths. 
 
 And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart. 
 
 How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the rootl- 
 
 Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! 
 Be thou asham'd that I have took upon me 
 Such an immodest raiment, if shame live 
 In a disguise of love : 
 
 It is the lesser blot, modesty finds. 
 
 Women to change their shapes than men their 
 
 minds. 
 
 Pro. Than men their minds ! 't is true. O 
 
 heaven 1 were man no 
 
 But constant, he were perfect. That one 
 
 error 
 Fills him with faults; makes him run through 
 
 all th' sins : 
 Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. 
 What is in Silvia's face, but I may sjiy 
 Moi-e fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? 
 
 Val. Come, come, a hand from either : 
 Let me be blest to make this ha])py close ; 
 'Twere pity two such friends should be long 
 foes. 
 Pro. Bear witness. Heaven, I have my wish 
 
 for ever. 
 Jul. And I mine. 120 
 
 Enter Outlaws, with Duke and Thurio. 
 
 Outlaws. A prize, a prize, a prize ! 
 
 Val. Forbear, forbear, I say ! it is my lord 
 the duke. 
 Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd. 
 Banished Valentine. 
 
 Duke. Sir Valentine! 
 
 Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. 
 
 Val. Thurio, give back, or else embrace 
 thy death; 
 Come not within the measure of my wrath; 
 Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again, 
 Milano shall not hold thee. Here she stands: 
 Take but possession of her with a touch : l:iO 
 
 1 dare thee but to breathe upon my love. 
 
 Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I 
 I hold him but a fool that will endanger 
 His body for a girl that loves him not : 
 I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. 
 
 - Cleft the root, of her lieart. 
 
 \
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT V. Sccao •!•. 
 
 iJiile. The more degenerate and base art 
 
 tliou, 
 To make sucli means for her^ as thou hast 
 
 done 
 And leave her on such slight conditions. — 
 Now, by the honour of my ancestry, 
 I do ajiplaud thy spirit, Valentine, 140 
 
 And think thee worthy of an empress' love : 
 Know then, I here forget all former griefs. 
 Cancel all gi'udge, repeal thee home again. — 
 Plead- a new state in thy unrival'd merit. 
 To which I thus subscribe : Sir Valentine, 
 Thou art a gentleman and well deriv'd ; 
 Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd 
 
 her. 
 \'al. I thank j^our grace; the gift hath 
 
 made me happy. 
 I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, 
 To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. laO 
 Bid-e. I gi-ant it, for thihe own, whate'er 
 
 it be. 
 Val. These l)anish'd men that I have kejrt 
 
 withal, 
 Are men endu'd with worthy qualities : 
 Forgive them what they have committed here, 
 
 1 To make such means for her, to take such pains to 
 win her. 
 - Plead, i.e. pleail thou. 
 
 And let them be recall'd from their exile : 
 They are reformed, civil, full of good. 
 And tit for great employment, worthy lord. 
 JJule. Thou hast j^revail'd ; I pardon them 
 and thee : 
 Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. 
 Come, let us go: we will include all jars ico 
 With triumphs,^ mii-th, and rai'e solemnity. 
 Val. And, as we w^alk along, I dare be 
 bold 
 With our discourse to make your grace to 
 
 smile. — 
 What think you of this jsage, my lord ? 
 
 Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him ; 
 
 he blushes. 
 Val. I warrant you, my lord, more grace 
 
 than boy. 
 Duke. What mean you by that saying? 
 Vol. Please you, I '11 tell you as we pass 
 along. 
 That you will wondei' what hath fortuned. — 
 Come, Proteus ; 't is your jjenance but to hear 
 The story of your loves discovered : iTi 
 
 That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; 
 One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 ■' Triumphs, masques, revels. 
 163
 
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE TWO GENTLEMEN Or VERONA. 
 
 NOTES TO THE T^YO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Note on Timk of Action. 
 
 •As to tlie first iiiteival (see note 89) I cannot think tliat 
 Valentine's statement (iv. 1. 21), that he hail been "si.xteen 
 months" at Milan, is to he taken as a fact. The distance 
 between Verona anJ Milan, in a straight line, is about 
 ninety miles. We must allow, then, a week or so for the 
 journey ; and another week, or perhaps a fortnight, for 
 Valentine to be at llilan, before he sends news as to how 
 he is getting on at Court ; and a week for the messenger to 
 airive at Verona. Antonio has been '■hammering on" the 
 question of sending I'roteus abroad for a month past (i. ; . 
 IG). The second and fourth intervals we may estimate 
 at about a week each. The oidy remaining question is 
 whether there should not be an interval of at least twelve 
 liours between sc. 2 and sc. 3 of act v. (see note 120). 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 1. Line 2: IIoi)ic-keeping yuuth have ever hontebj wits 
 —Compare Milton's Comus: 
 
 It is for hoin€ty features to keep home. 
 They liad their name thence. 
 
 Ilvmehj means what belongs to Iwiiie, i.e. what is plain 
 and utipretending. 
 
 2. Line 7: Than, living dully sluggardiz'd at home. — 
 The construction here is somewhat obscure as the passage 
 stands; living should agree with 1 (Valentine), the nomi- 
 native of the sentence ; whereas it refers to Proteus. 
 After than, we must understand see thee, or have thee. 
 
 3. Line S: 
 
 SHAPELESS idleness.— Shajtelesn may here 
 1(54 
 
 mean " without shape or form ;" so irregvlar; or, perliaps 
 puiyoseless. Compare Hamlet, v. 2. 10, 11: 
 
 There's a divinity tliat shapes our ends, 
 Rougii-liew them liow we will. 
 
 4. Line 18: For I will he f/ij/ beadsman, Valentine. - 
 Dead, in Anglo-Saxon, means "a prayer;" hence the 
 beads used by Roman Catholics in their prayers, espe- 
 cially in the devotion of the Rosary, had their name. 
 Beadsman is a man who says his heads, or prays for 
 iithers; and as those, who benefited by any charitable 
 bequest, were supposed to pray for their benefactor, 
 headsman or hedesman came to mean a resident in an 
 almshouse (bede-house), or some other charitable institu- 
 tion. Compare the following jiassage in Calisto and Jle- 
 libica (1520): 
 
 Fair maiden, for tlie mercy thou hast done to us 
 This knight and I both thy bead/olks shall be. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. i. p. 83. 
 
 A letter from Elis Price, temp. Henry VIIL, is given 
 in Halliwell's Diet. (vol. ii. last page), which is signed 
 "Youre bedman and dayelye orator by dutie." The 
 writer was a commissary-general of the diocese of St. 
 Asaidi. 
 
 5. Line li>: And on a uiW.-BooK 2Ji'iiyf<J'' nnj success.— 
 A love-book is supposed, in this case, to be a substitute 
 for a prayer-book. It is the custom of Roman Catholics, 
 in repeating the Rosary, to place the beads on the prayer- 
 book, and to count the beads with the prayers ; only re- 
 ferring to the book when their memory fails, or for the 
 purpose of reading the meditation given with each decade 
 of the Rosary. The use of the preposition on may there-
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 fore have here a special meaning. But compare Hamlet, 
 ill. 1, 44: — "Read on this book," &c. 
 
 6. Line 24: over shoes in love.— This expression occurs 
 in Grim the Collier of Croydon, "so that poor Grim, that 
 before was oiv.r shoes in love, &c." (Dodsley, vol. viii. p. 
 409). The expression "over boots in love," which occurs in 
 the next line, is evidently employed in order to lead up to 
 the pun in line 27. 
 
 7. Line 27: ffive me not the 6oots.— Co tgrave explains 
 "bailler foin en corne" as "to give one the boots, to sell 
 liim a bargaine." There may also be an implied reference 
 to the torture of the boot or boots; but, in any case, it 
 seems to me the expression to give one the boots requires 
 a more detailed explanation ; as, in tlie sense of "playing 
 a trick on one," it must have originated from some well- 
 known incident. Steevens, in his note on tliis passage, 
 mentions "a sport the country people in Warwickshire 
 use at their harvest-home, wliere one sits as judge to try 
 misdemeanours committed in harvest, and the punish- 
 ment for the men is to be laid on a bench, and slapped 
 on the breech with a pair of boots. Tins they call giving 
 them the boots." In Webster's Northward Hoe (iv. 1) 
 tliere occurs a curious instance of this expression. Maij- 
 bernj, who is described in a previous stage direction as 
 entering booted, says to Bellamont, "Let your man give 
 you the boots presently" (Works, vol. i. p. 234), by which 
 he would naturally mean no more tlian that Bellamont's 
 servant should bring him liis riding-boots ; but it is evi- 
 dent some play upon tlie words is here intended. Later 
 on in the same scene Muyberrij says, "Come, boots, boy!" 
 (p. 236). 
 
 8. Line 28: 
 
 Val. / rvill not, for it boots thee not. 
 Pro. Xoi~tvhatl 
 
 The reading of Ff. is: 
 
 yal. No, I will not; for it boots thee not. 
 Pro. What? 
 
 For the alteration in the text I am responsible; it makes 
 the lineharmonious.wliich it certainly is not in the Folios. 
 The meaning of Proteus is, "No? it boots me not? Wliat 
 boots me not?" 
 
 9. Line 30; Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one moment's 
 mirth.— Ft. read, "one fading moment's mirth." Fading 
 is apparently an interpolation; following Hanmer's ex- 
 ample, we have omitted it. 
 
 10. Line 36: So, bxj YOUR CIRCUMSTANCE, you call me 
 f'«o2.— Circumstance is defined in Worcester "an adjunct 
 of a fact;" here your circumstance seems to mean "the 
 illustration of your thesis." Love is "but a folly bought 
 with wit," therefore I am a fool for being in love. In the 
 next line the word circxmistance is generally e.xplained as 
 meaning "conduct;" it might perliaps lie better explained 
 as "condition." 
 
 11. Line 102: a lac'd vuitton.— This expression for a 
 courtezan is frequently used in old English plays. But 
 why lac'd? Does it refer to the tight lacing of the bod- 
 dice, or to the ornament of lace.i 
 
 12. Line 117: But ivhat said she} (Speed nods) Did she 
 nod I— These last words were added first by Theobakl to 
 
 explain the miserable pun which follow.?. Speed's words 
 (line 122). "you ask me if she did nod," seem to require 
 some such an insertion. 
 
 13. Line 129: very orderly.— Staxmton's conjecture, mo- 
 de rly="motheily," seems to me most happy and pro- 
 bable. Orderly has no sense here; but, as Staunton 
 points out, the context is full of allusions to child-bear- 
 ing, on which subject Speed makes several puns; so that 
 moderhj or "motlierly " would seem much more consistent 
 with the sense of the passage. 
 
 14. Lines 157, 158: 
 
 Which cannot perish having thee aboard. 
 Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. 
 Compare Tempest, i. 1. 30-32; 
 
 Can. I have great comfort from this fellow : methinks he hath no 
 drowning mark upon him ; his complexion is perfect gallows. 
 
 And other like allusions in the same scene. The pro- 
 verb is, "He that is born to be hanged shall never he 
 drowned." 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 15. Line 1.— This scene is a very weak forerunner of 
 the charming scene between Portia and Nerissa in The 
 Merchant of Venice. In order to give some idea of the 
 transition state which characterizes this play, in metre, as 
 well as in construction, poetical feeling, treatment of 
 cliaracter, Ac, I give an analysis of the metre and i hythm 
 of this scene: 
 
 Lines 1-9.— Blank verse. Line 3 has two syllables too 
 much; if we omit Madam it would be a perfect line. 
 Lines 10-21.— Rhymed decasyllabics. 
 Lines 22-26.— Blank verse with one imperfect line (22). 
 
 Lines 27-32.— Rhymed decasyllabics; the first two (27. 
 28) having double endings, and 31, 32 having triple rhym- 
 ing endings. 
 
 Lines 33-37.— Six syllables, unrliymed, witli three ac- 
 cents each. 
 
 Lines 38-40.— Long trochaics (cataleptic), the latter two 
 rliyming. 
 
 Lines 41-47.— Blank verse. 
 
 Lines 48, 49.— Rhymed decasyllabics. 
 
 Lines 50-140.— Blank verse, with tliirteen imperfect 
 lines— one with triple ending (82); 88 has one syllable 
 supplied by pause. 
 
 16. Line 5: tifith paele encounter me.— See note 176 
 Love's Labour 's Lost (v. 2, 122). 
 
 17. Line 9: the fair Sir Eglamovr.— A different person 
 evidently from Sir Eglamonr, the devoted friend of Silvia, 
 subsequently introduced (iv. 3). 
 
 18. Line 70: What is't that you took tip so gingeily?— 
 In tlie Story of Felismena this incident is thus nan atcd, 
 "But when, with a slower pace (tlien I desired) tlie 
 wished day was come, the discreet and subtle Rosina came 
 into my chamber to helpe me to make me readie, in doo- 
 ing whereof, of purpose slie let the letter closely fall. 
 
 165
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO T^\'o gp:ntlemen of veeoxa. 
 
 ACT I. Scone 2. 
 
 which, wlien I peiveiiied, what is that that fell dowiie? 
 (saide 1): what! luuoue me not, or else tell me what it is. 
 Good Lord, Mistresse (saide she), why will you see it: it is 
 the letter I would haue giuen you yesterday. Nay, that 
 it is not (saide 1), wherefore shewe it me, that I may see 
 if you lie or no, I liad no sooner said so but she put it 
 into my handes." (Hazlitt'sSliak. Lih. part i. vol.i. p. 2S1.) 
 In the story, Felismena refuses angrily to receive the 
 letter, and remains the whole night, tortured with curi- 
 osity to know what the letter contained. Shakespeare, 
 very wisely, does not keep Julia so long waiting. 
 
 19. Line 81: yonr ladyshii) can set, i.e. "can set to 
 music ;" but there is perhaps a play upon the words here; 
 for one meaning of to net given in Halliwell's Diet, is, 
 "to win the game." Shakespeare only uses "<o set," in 
 this sense, in one other passage ; namely in The Tempest, 
 i. 2. 84, 85: 
 
 Sfi all hearts i' the state 
 To what tune pleas'd his ear. 
 wliere it is used figuratively. 
 
 CO. Line 83: Best sing it to the tune of "Light o' Love." 
 — This tune is alluded to again in Much Ado, iii. 4. 44 : 
 3Iarg. "Clap 's into Light o' Love; that goes without a 
 burden," which directly contradicts what is said here by 
 Lucetta (85, 86) : 
 
 !j^:</. Heavy ! belike it /ms some burden then? 
 
 J. lie. Ay ; and melodious were it, would you sing it. 
 
 But the play upon words is so laboured and so inces- 
 sant in this scene, tliat one must not give to any passage 
 too literal an interpretation. 
 
 21. Line 94 : And mar the concord with too harsh a 
 DKSCA'ST.— Descant is described by Nares as what we 
 now call "variation in music;" but Staunton quotes a pas- 
 sage from Morley's Plain and Easy Introduction to Prac- 
 tical Music (1597), which says the word is used by mu- 
 sicians in different senses. "Last of all, tliey take it for 
 singing a part extempoi'e upon a plain song, in wliich 
 sense we commonly use it." In the text it is evidently 
 used in the sense of what is described {srib voce), in Im- 
 perial Dictionary, as "Figurative or florid descant,~that 
 part of an air in wliich some discords are concerned." 
 
 22. Line 97: I BID THE base /or Pro<e?«s.— Lucetta here 
 plays upon tlie words bass and base; tlie latter meaning 
 tlie game of base, "prison base," or "prisoner's base," as 
 it was called in my school days. AVhat is the precise 
 meaning of the phrase, bid the base, does not seem quite 
 so clear. I believe Malone is right in explaining it as " to 
 challenge an encounter." As the game used to be played, 
 some thirty-five years ago, when a " prisoner " had been 
 taken, he had to stand at a point a certain distance from 
 liiith "homes," or grounds of the respective sides; one of 
 the players on tlie prisoner's side starts to try and touch 
 his hand, and so rescue him; at the same time, one of 
 the opposite side starts to try and catch the rescuer. It 
 is to this part of the game that the expression bidding 
 the base probably refers. Tliis explains the passage in 
 Venus and Adonis, lines 303, 304. 
 
 To ^id the wind a base iie now prepares. 
 
 And whether he run or fly they know not whether. 
 
 166 
 
 i.e. he prepares to challenge the wind to a race. Com- 
 pare also Peele's Edward I. : 
 
 Thinlv, as I proinis'd liini to brave thee here, 
 So shall I *irf John Baliol 'base from thee. 
 
 — \\'orks, p. 405. 
 
 23. Line 99: llere is a COIL with protestation! —This 
 seems to mean "Here is an end of protestation." The 
 exact meaning of coil is very uncertain. In Shelton's 
 translation of Don Quixote (p. 3) I find " Rozinante kei)t 
 a coile to goe to his Stable," which seems to mean "Rozi- 
 nante was impatient to go to his stable." The meaning 
 of coil, in most passages, is "noise," "tumult," "diffi- 
 culty," no one of which seems e.xactly approjdiate liere. 
 
 24. Line 106, 107. 
 
 Injuriojts ivasps, to feed on such stveet honey, 
 And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! 
 Shakespeare is quite correct in implying that wasps 
 steal the honey stored by bees. See Kirby and Speiice's 
 Entomology (ed. 1818), p. 165. "The former (('.«. wasps) 
 frequently take possession of a hive, having either de- 
 stroyed or driven away its inhabitants, and consume all 
 the honey it contains." The weapon they use, however, 
 is not tlieir stings, but their powerful mandibles or jaws. 
 They "often seize and devour them (bees), sometimes 
 ripping open the body to come at the honey, and at others 
 carrying off that part in which it is situated " (ut sui)ra, 
 p. 164). 
 
 25. Line 121: Unto a ragged, fearful-hanging rod-.— 
 Compare III. Henry VI. (v. 4. 27): 
 
 And Richard but a ragged fatal rock. 
 
 26. Line 137: I see yon have A month's mixd to them.— 
 The expression, a month's mind, is usually explained as 
 referring to the Roman Catholic custom of commemora- 
 ting the monthly anniversary of a person's death, by 
 offering up prayers for the repose of his or her soul. The 
 prayers for the dead, given in most Catholic books of 
 devotion, contain a prayer for the third, seventh, or 
 thirtieth day after burial. The last anniversary is that 
 called here " the month's n^ind." 
 
 The following passage, quoted by Richardson in his 
 dictionary, sub voce "month," is apparently decisive: "At 
 whiche tyme of burying and also tlie monethis mynde, I 
 wil that niyn executrice doo cause to be caried from Lon- 
 don xii. newe torches, there beyng redy made, to Imni in 
 the tymes of the saide burying and nuinethi-s mynde. — 
 Fabyan. His ivill." 
 
 Were it not for the decisive evidence of the passage 
 above quoted, and the extracts from Strype's Memorials 
 of the Reformation (Var. Ed. vol. iv. p. 26), I should be 
 inclined to tliink this expression had its origin in the vio- 
 lent longing for particular articles of food, etc. shown by 
 pregnant women, more especially in the last month of 
 their ])regnancy; a meaning decidedly a<loj)ted by Dr. 
 Schmidt in his Lexicon {sub voce montli)- As regards this 
 passage Johnson remarks: "A month's mind, in the 
 ritual sense, signifies not desire or inclination, but remem- 
 brance ; yet I suppose this is the true original of the 
 expression" (see Var. Ed. vol. iv. p. 27). From this it is 
 plain he felt the same diftieulty in accepting the usu.nl 
 expliination of tliis i)hrase.
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 ACT I. ScKXK 3. 
 
 27. Line 9: Some to discover islands far aicaij. --This is 
 ;i passage on wliich conjectures as to the e.xact date of 
 this play have been built, but without sufficient grounds. 
 It was a very common thing, in Shakespeare's time, for 
 youncT men of the best families to go on voyages of dis- 
 covery, and many islands were as yet undiscovered. 
 There are several such expeditions to which this line 
 might refer. 
 
 28. Line 18: Whereon this month I have been HAMJIER- 
 ING.— This sense of the word to hammer is peculiar to 
 this passage. In II. Henry VI. (i. 2. 47) we find: 
 
 And wilt thou still be hatntneriti^ treachery? 
 
 but there it is used in a less metaphorical sense. Here 
 the verb is used in the same way as we use it nowadays, 
 e.g. " to keep hammering on, or at, the same idea." 
 
 29. Line 27: Attends the emperor. — Steevens' note (Var. 
 Ed. vol. iv. p. 29) is worth consulting on this passage. 
 Johnson mentions, as an instance of the ignorance or neg- 
 ligence of the author, his placing the emperor at Milan. 
 But the emperor of Germany, Charles V., did frequently 
 reside at Milan, and hold his court there. 
 
 30. Line 32: And he TU'EY^ of every exercise. — Xo com- 
 mentator seems to have any remark on this peculiar ex- 
 pression, of which I do not remember to have found an- 
 other instance. It means, doubtless, "be within sight of." 
 
 31. Line 44: vljirf,— in GOOD ■nu'E-.—now loill we break 
 ic(7/i /(()(!.— The construction here is elliptical. Antonio 
 mean.; to say, " Here he(Proteus) comes ingood time," i.e. 
 "apropos," "just at the right moment." 
 
 32. Line 67: With Valentino.— 'i\\\% is the reading of 
 F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 ; and seems preferable to the Latin form of 
 i\\&'tiAme,Valentinxis, which we find in F. 1. 
 
 33. Line 69: Like exhibition thou shall have from me. 
 —The use of this word, as meaning a certain sum allowed 
 for the expenses of any person's support, still exists at 
 schools and colleges where are given exhibitions, that is, 
 annual sums, in aid of maintenance, to be gained by 
 acliolars in competition. Compare: 
 
 I crave fit disposition for my wife, 
 Due reference of place and exltibition. 
 
 — Othello, i. 3. 237, 238. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 34. Line 26: to speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. 
 —According to Toilet it was the custom on All Saints 
 Day (that is on the eve of All Souls Day, Nov. 2nd) "for 
 the poor people in Staffordshire to go from parish to 
 parish- « souling, i.e. begging and puling for soul-cakes." 
 The custom was, doubtless, a remnant of the religious 
 observance of that day (All Souls Day), on which the 
 Catholic Church offers up all masses, and enjoins special 
 devotions, on behalf of departed souls. 
 
 35. Line 79: Yor CHID AT Sir Proteus for going ungar- 
 <er'(i.— This construction of the verb to chide with at 
 occurs in five other places in Shakespeare. It is gener- 
 ally used as a transitive verb. Compare : 
 
 O, what a beast was I to chide at him. 
 
 — Rom. and Jul. iii. 2. 95. 
 
 The going ungartered is one of the signs of love given 
 by Rosalind (As You Like It, iii. 2. 398); which passage 
 may be compared with Speed's speech above (19-27). 
 
 36. Line 84: cannot see to put on your hose.— There is, 
 doubtless, as Staunton says, either some omission here; 
 or the allusion, whatever it was, which gave point to the 
 quibble, has escaped detection. 
 
 37. Line 100: excellent MOTION! . . . Koto will he 
 INTERPRET to her.— It seems doubtful, in spite of the two 
 instances adduced Ijy Staunton, whether motion was ever 
 used for a single puppet. Tlie person who managed the 
 puppets, and spoke the dialogue for them, was called the 
 interpreter. 
 
 38. Line 114: it Came hardly off— To come off is used 
 in the sense of "to acquit one's self" by Shakespeare in 
 one or two places— generally with the idea of success. 
 The same expression is used in slang nowadays, e. jr. "I 
 tried a volley, but it did not come off." Compare with 
 the passage in the text : 
 
 This comes o^well; here's a wise officer. 
 
 — Meas. for Meas. ii. i. 57. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 39. Line 7: And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. — 
 This was the formal mode of betrothal; the exchange of 
 rings, and the kiss of troth wliich, according to Douce, 
 sometimes was given in the church with great solemnity; 
 " and the service on this occasion is preserved in some of 
 the old rituals." It is to this formal ceremony of betrothal 
 that the Priest alludes, in the following passage from 
 Twelfth Night : 
 
 A contract of eternal bond of love, 
 
 Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, 
 
 Attested by the ho/y dose of lips, 
 
 Strenjjthen'd by interchangement of your rings ; 
 
 And all the ceremony of this compact 
 
 Seal'd in my function, by my testimony.— v. i. 159-164. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 40. Lines 29, 30: 0, that SHE could speak now like a WOOD 
 woman!— Wood, in the sense of "wild," "distracted," ic 
 frequently used by Chaucer and other old English writers. 
 Hanmer, whom Dyce follows, altered the first part of 
 this line to " that the shoe could speak;" but surely this 
 is unnecessary. Launce has made one of the shoes repre- 
 sent his mother, and naturally uses she instead of it. 
 
 41. Line 42: it is the unkindest TIED.— This play on the 
 words tied and tide might have been copied from Lilly's 
 Endimion, iv. 2 : 
 
 i:/j. M'hy! you know it is said, the /)''<' tarrieth no man. 
 Sam. True. 
 
 Efi. A monstrous lie; tor I was tide two hoiires, and tarried for one 
 to unlose mee. —Works, vol. i. p. 51. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 42. Line 18: Ayid hoio QUOTE you my folly J~To quote 
 here means " to observe." Compare: 
 
 I am sorry that with better heed and judgment 
 
 I had not quoted him. —Hamlet, ii. t. iir, 112. 
 
 167
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 ACT II. Sciae 
 
 43. Line 54: Knotv ye Do^ Aiito)iiv?—.\s Antonio is an 
 Itali.an, the title of Don would seem inappropriate; but 
 we find in a previous passage (i. 3. 39) Bvn Alplionso, 
 wliere Alphonso seems intended for tlie Italian name 
 (Al/oiiso). Certainly we should do wrong to omit Don, as 
 Ritson proposed : the title is used often as a general one, 
 and is applied under the c(irrui)ted form of Dan to Cupid. 
 Being derived from Doniinug, it was originally ai)plied to 
 persons in the upper rank of life; and later it came to be 
 employed in a bantering sense as = " a fine fellow." 
 
 44. Line 73: complete in feature— !.e. "perfectly good 
 looking." Feature, undoubtedly, has the sense of "hand- 
 someness," "comeliness," in some passages. Compare: 
 
 Cheated oi fenliirc by dissembling nature. 
 
 —Rich. III. i. I. 19. 
 
 But I doubt if this is any more than an elliptical ex-pres- 
 sion; feature is generally used in old English writers not 
 for the parts of the face, but for the whole form and 
 shape of the body; and so it came to be u«ed sometimes 
 for handsomeness, the epithet "beautiful," or "good," 
 being understood. 
 
 45. Line 98: [Thurio retires angrily to back of stage. 
 —This stage-direction indicates what is required by the 
 "business" of the scene. It would seem from Silvia's 
 words which follow, Uave done, have done, that a quarrel 
 was imminent, or that she thought Valentine was cann- 
 ing his chaff of Thurio too far. Some editors insert here 
 \^Exit Thurio;— but I think wrongly: he probably remains, 
 at back of stage, in a huff at the manner in which he has 
 been treated, till Silvia calls him togo with her (line 117). 
 See note 47. 
 
 46. Line 114: I'll IHE on him that says so hut yourself. 
 —This expression occurs in Look About You : 
 
 Ric/t. . . . nor do you think 
 
 My brother John deceiv'd you of a chain. 
 Fait. He did ; I did deliver it with this hand. 
 •yohn. I'll die upon the slanderer. 
 
 — Dodslej'. vol. vii. p. 442. 
 
 It means, " I will challenge him to mortal combat." 
 
 47. Line 116: Madam, my lord yo^ir father woiild speak 
 with you. — This line is wrongly assigned to Thurio in Ff. 
 Theobald was the first to correct the obvious error. It 
 is evident that Silvia does not address tlie whole of her 
 nextspeechto Thurio; but that, after answering the ser- 
 vant who brings the message from her father, she turns 
 to him where he has been standing sulkily, at the back 
 of the scene, while the introduction of Proteus took 
 place. By asking him to accompany her, she means to 
 console him for the snubs he has received from Valentine. 
 
 48. Linel30: WHOSE high IMPERIOUS thoughts have piin- 
 wTi'd nic— This line presents many difficulties. Johnson 
 first proposed to substitute those for ivhose, an alteration 
 which Lettsom says " The context imperiously commands" 
 [Walker's Crit. Exam. vol. i. p. 39 (note)], quoted by Dyce 
 with approval. The chief point is whether the high im- 
 perious thoughts are those of Love or of Valentine. If we 
 read whose, the use of thoughts for "disposition of the 
 mind," as Schmidt explains it in this passage, is certainly 
 imusual. On the other hand, if we read those, the ex- 
 pression hate pitnislt'd me would have to be taken as 
 
 168 
 
 equivalent to " have brought the punishment upon nic," 
 which is a very awkward construction. I'roteus goes on 
 to say that Love, in revenge of his contempt, has chased 
 sleep from his eyes. itc. ; so that it is more probable from 
 the C(Uitext that the reading of the Kf. is right. It i- 
 worth noting tliat Malone, in supporting the reading of 
 the old copy, says that "Imperious (which in our author's 
 time generally signified imperial), is an epithet very fre- 
 quently applied to love by Shakespeare and his contem- 
 poraries." 1 have examined all the passages where the 
 word occurs in Shakespeare, and not in a single one, ex- 
 cept this passage in our text, is it so applied; nor is it 
 generally used in any sense but the one which it bears 
 nowadays. I believe with Staunton that the misprint, 
 if any, is in the word thoughts. 
 
 49. Line 152: Yet let her he a principality.— Steevens 
 very aptly quotes St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans viii. 
 38, "nor angels, nor principalities." Stilton uses the 
 word in tlie same sense— that of one of the orders of the 
 angels— in Paradise Lost, book vi. : 
 
 He sat, and in the assembly next upstood 
 Nisroch of Principalities the prime. 
 
 It is evident from the context that the word is used in 
 that sense here. See the passage from Scot's Discoverie 
 of Witchcraft ((|Uoted by Staunton), whence it appears 
 that principalities were the seventh of the nine orders of 
 angels. 
 
 50. Lines 159, 160 : 
 
 lest the base earth 
 
 Should from her vesture chance to steal a h-iss. 
 
 Compare Richard the Second's words to Boliiigbrokc 
 
 (iii. 3. 190, 191): 
 
 Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee 
 To make the 6asf earth proud with kissing it. 
 
 51. Line 162: SUMMER-SWELLING /o«'er.— The same ex- 
 pression, according to Steevens, occurs in the translation 
 of Lucan by Sir Arthur Gorges, 1614, book viii. p. 354, 
 where he renders " ripasque «;s<a<c tumentes" \iy "that 
 sommer-sicelling shore." 
 
 58. Line 196: Is it mine eye or Valentino's ;jro/se.S' 
 
 F. 1 reads : 
 
 It is mine, or Valentine's praise? 
 
 F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 : 
 
 Is it mine then, or Valentincans praise? 
 
 The reading in the text is Theobald's conjecture, which, 
 on the whole, seems preferable to the ingenious conjec- 
 ture of Blakeway, adopted by Malone : 
 
 Is it her mien, or V'atentinus' praise? 
 
 Uien having been originally written mine, being derived 
 from the French mine. The conjecture of Hanmer, mine 
 eyne, is very probable, but questionable on account of 
 the cacophony; although thine eyne occurs in Mids. 
 Night's Dream (iii. 2. 13S). Valentine's is altered to Val- 
 entino's in preference to Valentinus', though perhaps 
 Malone is right, and no alteration is really necessary; for 
 undoubtedly Valentine's could be jjronounced as a 
 quadrisyllable. 
 
 53. Line 201: a waxen image 'gainst a./irc— This is an 
 allusion to the practice attributed to witches, of making 
 a wax figure of those against whom they had a spite;
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 these tigiu-es they gradually melted before the fire, which 
 caused the persons whom they represented to waste away; 
 or they stuck pins into them, thereby inflicting on the 
 original of the figure so treated very sharp and grievous 
 pains. An amusing account of such a wax figure, and of 
 the unholy practices to which it was subjected, may be 
 found in the Ingoldsby Legends, vol. i., in the story called 
 "The Leech of Folkestone." 
 
 54. Line 210: And that hath DXZZh^iiiny reason' slight. 
 — F. 2 quite unnecessarily inserts so after dazzled, thinking 
 it to have been required by the metre. Malone quotes 
 from Drayton the following Instance of dazzling used as a 
 
 trisyllable: 
 
 A diadem once liajszlhi^^ the eye, 
 The day too darke to see affiiiitie. 
 
 ACT. II. ScENK 5. 
 
 55. Line 58: thuu art an Hehreu; a Jew —It would 
 seem that in Shakespeare's time it was popularly held 
 that there was some difference, if only of degree, between 
 Hebrew and Jew. Falstaff, when wishing to be emphatic, 
 couples these two titles, "You rogue, they were bound, 
 every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ehmc Jew." 
 —I. Henry IV. ii. 4. 198. 
 
 56. Line C2; to go to the ALE with a Christian.— It is 
 generally held that Lannce here refers to one of those 
 rustic festivities called Ales, which were held in the 
 sixteenth century. They were of several kinds, Leet-ale, 
 Lamb-ale, Brideale, Clerk-ale, Church-ale, and ]Vhitsun- 
 ale. Of these the Church-ale, at least, was common in 
 Shakespeare's time. Drake, in his Illustrations of Shake- 
 speare (vol. i. pp. 175-180), gives a very long and interest- 
 ing account of these ales. They were so called because 
 each village, where they were given, undertook to brew so 
 much ale on the occasion, to the expense of which all the 
 merry-makers contributed. Church-ales were held, mainly 
 for the purpose of getting funds for the repairing or 
 liuilding of the churches. It may be doubted whether 
 tlie ale means anything more here than the ale-house. 
 Uyce, in his Edition of Greene, has a note on the follow- 
 ing passage in The Looking Glass for London and Eng- 
 land: " Dev. I am the spirit of tlie dead man that was 
 slain in thy company when we were drunk together at 
 the ale." He maintains that "It is jjlain that in the 
 passage of our text, as well as in that . . . from . . Two 
 Gentlemen of Verona," i.e. the one in our text, "the ale 
 is put for the ale-house " (Works, p. 138). But there is 
 no reason why the ale should not mean one of the festi- 
 vals so called, In both passages. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 6. 
 
 57. Line 20: Shows Julia 6w< a sicari/ii/ Ethiope.— Com- 
 pare: 
 
 Thou for whom ^reat Jove would swear 
 Juno but an Elhiope were. 
 
 — Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 3. 117, 118. 
 
 58. Line 35; Mtjself in counsel his COMPETITOR.— See 
 Note 38, Love's Labour 's Lost, ii. 1. 82. 
 
 ACT II. SCEXE 7. 
 
 59. Line 54: Out, out, Lucetta! — The expression Out, 
 out! is used by Ben Jonson in Every Man out of his 
 Humour, ii. 2: 
 
 Ofif, out I unworthy to speak where lie breatheth. 
 
 —Works, vol. ii. p. 86. 
 
 Also by Cliapnian in his Homer's Iliad, book xiii. Dr. 
 Percy says it is still used in the north, and has the same 
 force as the Latin, apage .' 
 
 60. Line 70. — The whole of this scene is very interest- 
 ing as a specimen of Shakespeare's more poetic style at 
 this time. It contains some beautiful lines ; but the 
 reader will notice, if he read them aloud, that they are 
 wanting in variety of rhythm, owing to nearly every line 
 having a stop at the end of it. If, after reading this scene, 
 we turn to one of his later comedies, such as As You 
 Like It, or Twelfth Night, we see at once how very crude 
 and, comparatively, unskilful Shakespeare's management 
 of verse was at this period. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 61. Line 81: 
 
 There is a lady in MiLAN'O here. 
 
 Ff. read : 
 
 There is a lady in Verona here. 
 
 An evident oversight, of which this is not the only in- 
 stance in this play. The emendation in our text is the one 
 made by Collier's MS. and adopted by Dyce ; it renders 
 the line complete, and consistent with the fact that the 
 scene is here undoubtedly in Milan, without doing much 
 violence to the original text. 
 
 62. Line 89: 1(7/1 her with GIFTS, if she respect not 
 tvords.— A \eiy similar sentiment is found in Marlowe's 
 Hero and Leander (The Second Sestiad): 
 
 'Tis wisdom to give much; a ^^//Z prevails 
 
 "When deep-persuading oratory fails. 
 
 — \\'orks, p. 28;. 
 
 The allusions to that poem in this play can scarcely be 
 accidental. See i. 1. 22 and lines 119, 120 of this scene. 
 It is probable that the poem was fresh in Shakespeare's 
 memory when he was writing this play. The first edition 
 bears date 1598, but it had been entered on the Stationers' 
 books 20th Septembei', 1593, and was probably circulated 
 in manuscript, more or less privately, before that date. 
 
 63. Line 144: 3fy herald thoughts in thy pure BOSOM 
 rest thenL—lhis, is an allusion to the fashion prevalent 
 amongst ladies, in Shakespeare's time, of carrying letters, 
 miniatures, and other love tokens, as well as "money and 
 needlework " (according to Drake), in a pocket made in 
 the fore-part of their stays. In this same scene (lines 
 249, 250) Proteus tells Valentine that his letter 
 
 shall be deliver'd 
 Even in the milk-ivhite bosom of tliy love. 
 
 It is this custom which explains the phrase in Hamlet, 
 
 ii. 2. 113: 
 
 " In her excellent while bosom, these," &c. 
 
 Many other allusions to this fashion may be found in tlie 
 
 poetical writings of this period. In comparatively recent 
 
 times, on the stage and sometimes off it, ladies made the 
 
 1(J})
 
 ACT in. Sceue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEEONA. 
 
 ACT 111. Sceue 1. 
 
 same use of the convenient cavity alluileil to in the pas- 
 sage quoted ; althougli tlie fashion of placing a pocket 
 there went out with tlie long-hodied stays. 
 
 64. Line 153: WInj, Phaethon,—fur thou art Meropx' 
 Kon. — This is one of the passages which has been cited, as 
 helping to decide the date of this play. In the old play 
 of King John (15i)l) occurs the following passage: 
 
 as sometimes Phaeton^ 
 Mistrusting silly Mero/- for his Sire. 
 
 — Hazlitt's Sliak. Lib. vol, i. part ii. p. 2:54. 
 
 which some commentators suppose to have suggested the 
 line in the text. Sliakespeare might surely have gained 
 thus much mythological knowledge elsewhere. Phaethon 
 was, according to Smith's Classical Dictionary "a son of 
 Helios by the Oceanid Clymene, the wife of Merops." 
 There seems to have been some difference of opinion, 
 however, among the authorities as to his parentage. 
 
 65. Lines 1C3-169: But if thou linger, etc. — Compare 
 Lear, i. 1. 176-182: 
 
 Five days we do allot thee, for provision 
 
 To shield thee from diseases of the world; 
 
 And on the sixth to turn thy hated back 
 
 Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following. 
 
 Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
 
 The moment is thy death. Away ! by Jupiter, 
 
 This shall not be revoked. 
 
 66. Lines 172-187 : hanish'dfrom her, d-c. — It is strange 
 that no critic, apparently, should have noticed the strong 
 resemblance between this passage and those in Romeo 
 and Juliet (iii. 3. 19-21): 
 
 Hence banished is banish'd from the world. 
 And world's exile is death:— then banished 
 Is death mis-term'd. 
 and (iii. 3. 29-43) 
 
 Kcti:. 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here. 
 Where Juliet lives; and every c.it and dog. 
 And little mouse, every unworthy thing. 
 Live here in heaven, and may look on her ; 
 But Komeo may not :— more validity. 
 More honourable state, more courtship lives 
 In carrion-flies than Romeo: they may seize 
 On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
 And steal immortal blessing from her lips; 
 Who. even in pure and vest.al modesty. 
 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ; 
 But Romeo may not; he is banished: 
 Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: 
 They are free men, but I am banished. 
 And say'st thou yet that exile is not deatli? 
 
 The latter passage seems to be an expansion of the speech 
 of Valentine, adapted to the different circiinistiinces of 
 the situation. 
 
 67. Line 200: ^y HO wcndditt thou strike?— Miilone gives 
 an example of a similar misuse of the nominative of the 
 relative pronoun for the other cases: 
 
 firj^o. He's married. 
 
 Cas. To who J 
 
 —Othello, i. 2. 53. 
 
 and 
 
 he liath a court 
 He little cares for, and a daughter roho 
 He not respects at all. 
 
 — Cynjbelina, i. 6. 133-155. 
 
 The substitution of u'h(nn for trho, in such passages, is 
 needless. 
 
 170 
 
 68. Line 220: And now excens of it ni I make vie stir- 
 /ei'f.— Compare Twelfth Night, i. 1. 1-3: 
 
 If music be the food of love, play on; 
 Give me excess of it, that, suifeitin^. 
 The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
 
 69. Lines 222-240.— This poetical description by Proteus 
 of Silvia's grief is very jjretty; but, as the Duke only went 
 out before Valentine's solilotjuy, there was remarkably 
 little time for the scene he describes to have taken place. 
 This is one of the many instances of the defective con- 
 struction of this play. Pope had some reason for ending 
 the scene after Valentine's soliloquy, and commencing a 
 new one with the entrance of Proteus and Launce. 
 
 70. Line 263: if he he hut ONE knave. — Various emenda- 
 tions of this jiassage have been proposed. Hanmcr, " if 
 he be ))Ut one kind 0/ knave ;" AVarbiirton, " if he be but 
 one kind; " Staunton suggests, " (/ he he but one in love." 
 The meaning may very well be, "if he be but a knave in 
 one respect;" or, as Johnson explains it, a single knave 
 and not a douhle one. "Double" is used in an intensive 
 sense in the expression, "double villain," which occurs in 
 Cymbeline, iv. 2. 88, "thou double villain." To speak of 
 a man as "two knaves" instead of "one knave" seems 
 to have been an accepted phrase. In Damon and Pythias, 
 by Richard Edwards (1571), we find: 
 
 Arislifpus. . . . You lose money by him, if you sell him for «;.f 
 k)tnz'e, for he serves for twctiii. — Dodsley, vol. iv. p. 20. 
 Again in Like for Like by Ulpian Fulwell (1.5C8): 
 
 Neivfari^le. Thus thou may'st be called a knave in grain ; 
 And where knaves are scant, thou shalt go for iiuaiit. 
 
 — Dodslej", vol. iii. p. 325. 
 
 71. Lines 26.5, 266: hut a team of horse shall not pluck 
 thatfrom me. — Compare the modern idiomatic expression, 
 "Wild horses shall not drag it out of me." 
 
 72. Lines 271, 272: She hath more qvaliticn than a water- 
 spaniel. — In that cuiious old W(uk, Dr. Cains' Treatise of 
 English Dogs, translated liy Abraham Flenung (157G), the 
 author, in describing the Water Spaniel or Finder, after 
 speaking of their use in taking "waterfowls," says, "with 
 these dogs also, we fetch cjutof the water such fowl as be 
 stung to death by any vcnomons worm. AVe use them 
 also to bring us our bolts and arrows out of the water, 
 missing our mark whereat we directed onr level," Ac. 
 But it would almost seem that Launce was confusing 
 "the Spaniel gentle," or "the Comforter," with the 
 Water Spaniel; the qualities of the former, according to 
 Dr. Cains, were indeed numerous and curious. (See vol. 
 iii. Arber's English Garner, pp. 244-245 and 247-249.) 
 
 73. Line 274: of her conditions.— F. 1, F. 2, F. 3 read 
 condition; but the sense of "character," "temper," in 
 which Shakespeare uses condition, hardly suits the con- 
 text. F. 4 reads conditions, a correction adopted by Dyce, 
 Staunton, ttc. Compare the following passage: 
 
 Claitdio. Nay, but I know who loves him. 
 
 Don Pedro. That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows liini 
 
 not. 
 Claudio. Yes, and his ill conditioits. 
 
 — Much Ado, iii. 2. 65-68. 
 
 74. Line 281: With my nmstofs ship?So Theobald's 
 emendation; Ff. read mast<'r,'<hi2). 
 
 I
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF YERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene ]. 
 
 75. Line 300: Saint Nicholas he thy sjjpcrf .' — Saint 
 Nicholas was the patron of clerks and scholars. 
 
 76. Line 302: "Imprimis: She can niiWf."— This is an 
 
 oversight; as in her cate-log above (line 275) Launce has 
 
 said: 
 
 " Jjnpyiinis: Slie can fetch and carry." 
 
 Such an oversight is scarcely worth correcting at the cost 
 of altering the te.\t. Speed may have taken up the list of 
 conditions or qualities where Launce left off, and substi- 
 tuted Impiintis for Item on his own responsibility, as it 
 was the first one he had to read. 
 
 77. Line 306: " Blessing of your heart, yoxi brew good 
 ale." — This proverb is alluded to in Ben Jonson's Masque 
 of Augurs, in the ballad sung by John L'rson: 
 
 Our ale"s o' the best, 
 And eacli good guest 
 
 Prays for their souls tliat brew it. 
 
 —Works, vol. vii. p. 435. 
 
 78. Line 318: Then may I set the loorld on wheels.^ 
 Compare Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 7. 96-98: 
 
 Jiiio. 'A bears the third part of the world, man; see st not? 
 Sifeit. The third part, then, is drunk; would it were all. 
 That it might ^t? ott luheelst 
 
 Rolfe says, in his note on this passage (p. 100), that the 
 title of one of Taylor the Water-Poet's pamphlets was, 
 " The World goes on wheels." 
 
 79. Line 326: "She is not to be KJSST.D fasting "—Rowe 
 supplied the word kissed omitted in Ff. : perhaps the 
 omission was intentional, the word to be supplied being 
 left to the discretion, or indiscretion, of the actor. 
 
 80. Line 330: "She hath a SWEET mouth."— This may 
 mean only, " a sweet tooth," as we say nowadays; perhaps 
 it is meant in a wanton sense. 
 
 81. Line 361: "She hath more hair than uu't." S>tee\ens, 
 very aptly, quotes from Dekker's Satiromastix: 
 
 Hairel It's the basest stubble; in scorne of it. 
 This Proverbe sprung, he has viore haire than wit. 
 
 — Works, vol. i. p. 239. 
 
 82. Line 368: The cover of the salt hides the salt— This 
 alludes to the old salt-cellar, which was a large orna- 
 ment;il piece of plate, with a cover to keep the salt clean. 
 There was but one on the table, which stood always near 
 the head; hence the expression, "to sit below the salt," 
 i.e. to occupy an inferior position at table. 
 
 83. Line 377: that word makes the faults gracious. — 
 I see no necessity for insisting, as Steevens does, that 
 gracious here means graceful; surely it means, " accept- 
 able," " pleasing." Malone quotes very aptly: 
 
 O, what a world of vile ill-favouredy?i«//j 
 
 Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year! 
 
 — Merry Wi%'es, iii. 4. 32, 33. 
 
 ACT III. ScEXE 2. 
 
 84. Line 41: against his yEKX friend. — Very has here 
 a somewhat more emphatic sense than " true," or " real;" 
 it almost has the force of a superlative. Shakespeare 
 uses the same expression in the following passage: 
 
 This gentleman, the prince's near ally. 
 My very friend, has got his mortal hurt. 
 
 — Rom. and Jul. iii. 1. 114, 113. 
 
 85. Line 49: But say this WEED her love from Valentine. 
 — Rowe suggested wean in place of iveed, but was antici- 
 pated, it appears, by the Old Corrector of Mr. Collier. 
 Certainly weed is not a satisfactory reading here; for we 
 should expect, if that word were used in its ordinary 
 sense — whether literal or metaphorical— of rooting out, or 
 otherwise removing a noxious growth, that the sefitence 
 would run "iveed Valentine from her love." The verb to 
 wean is only used, in its metaphorical sense, in two pas- 
 sages by Shakespeare: in III. Henry VI. iv. 4. 17: 
 
 And I the rather 7i.'ean nie from despair, 
 
 where in F. 1, F. 2 it is spelt waine, and inF. 3, F. 4 wain; 
 and in Titus Andronicus, i. 1. 210, 211 : 
 
 I will restore to thee 
 The people's hearts, and ■zveait them from themselves, 
 
 where in F. 1 it is spelt weane. It may be that weed is 
 the true reading ; but, in the two other passages where 
 Shakespeare uses this verb with the preposition from, it 
 is employed much more appropriately than in the passage 
 in our text: 
 
 To 7ceed this vvormwoodyVt^w your fruitful brain. 
 
 — Love's Labour "s Lost, v. 2. 857; 
 
 and. 
 
 Each word thou hast spoke hath lueeded/rotn my heart 
 A root of ancient envj'. — Coriol. iv. 5. 108, 109. 
 
 It must be admitted that, in both these instances, the 
 original sense of the word is preserved in the metaphor. 
 I should be inclined to suggest that wind might be the 
 true meaning, more especially as Thurio says, in the next 
 line but one: 
 
 Therefore, as you ttmuind her love from him. 
 
 Certainly the process, by which Proteus undertook to try 
 and detach Silvia's affection from Valentine, would be 
 more suitably expressed by the word wind, than by xceed; 
 it was a tortuous, not a direct process. 
 
 86. Lines 72-73: 
 
 Say that upon the altar of her beauty 
 
 You sacrifice your tears. 
 This passage has been, consciously or unconsciously, imi- 
 tated by Cyril Tourneur in his Atheist's Tragedy, iii. 1, 
 where Castabella, mourning over the supposed death of 
 Charlemont, says: 
 
 be not displeas'd if on 
 The altar of his Tombe I sacrifice 
 My teares. They are the iewels of my loue 
 Dissolued into griefe, &c. 
 
 ^Works, vol. i. p. 79. 
 
 87. Lines 78-81 : 
 
 Fur Orpheus' lute icas strung with poets' sineivs. 
 Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones. 
 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
 Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
 This description would seem to be taken from some pic- 
 ture of Orpheus charming the beasts. I have seen an 
 old inlaid cabinet of the time of Charles V., one side of 
 which has a representation of this suVtject, in which the 
 musical magician is surrounded by a posse comilatns of 
 most remarkable monsters. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 88. Line 5: Sir, sir, we are undone; these are the vil- 
 lains, &c. — Ff. read "Sir, we are undone," &c. Capell 
 inserts 0, before Sir, as the verse requires an additional 
 
 IVI
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 syllable. The line is printed most decidedly as verse in 
 tlie Folios; we have ventured to repeat the word Sh; as 
 l>eing the most probable emendation. 
 
 89. Line 21: Some sixteen months.— Ihi^ statement of 
 Valentine's must be taken as on a par, for veracity, with 
 his subsequent one that he was banished for having 
 "killed a man," &c. It is extremely uidikely that Val- 
 entine had been any long time in Milan, before Proteus 
 set out to join him. If we accept this statement as true, 
 it necessitates our imagining an interval of over fourteen 
 months to have elapsed between scenes 1 and 2 of act i. 
 
 90. Line 36: Rohia Hood's fat friar, i.e. Friar Tuck.— 
 What these Italian outlaws could have known about 
 Robin Hood, or Friar Tuck, it is not easy to imagine. 
 This is one of the many instances of Shakespeare's angli- 
 cising, so to speak, his localities and his characters; one 
 of his faults, if it be a fault, which certainly did not de- 
 tract from his popularity. 
 
 91. Line 40: An heir, and niece ullied vnto the DiiJce.— 
 So F. 3, F. 4. The reading of F. 1, F. 2 is And heir, and 
 Xeece allide, &c. Theobald's emendation, A71 heir, and 
 NEAR allied, &c., is generally adopted ; but in Greene's 
 Alphonsus, King of Arragon, we find niece used twice for 
 the vague relationship of cousin, first in the following 
 passage (act ii.), where Venus, speaking of Alphonsus, 
 says: 
 
 Seeking about the troops of Arragon, 
 l"or to encounter witli his traitorous in'ecf. 
 
 — Works, p. 2^9. 
 
 referring to Flaminius, who was cousin to Carinus, the 
 father of Alphonsus, and therefore, at most, only the 
 latter's second cousin. The same word is used a,gain in 
 act iii. of the same play, where Fausta, the wife of Amu- 
 rack, calls Belinus "my most friendly niece," (Works, 
 p. 236)— Amurack having previously addressed him thus, 
 " Welcome, Belinus, to thy cousin's court." From these 
 passages it is evident that, in spite of Malone's dogmatic 
 and arrogant contradiction of Steevens, niece was used 
 (in addition to its ordinary sense) not only as grand- 
 dau.ghter, but also to signify any relationship, even a dis- 
 tant one. For tills reason we prefer the reading of the 
 two later Folios to Theobald's conjecture. 
 
 92. Lines 71, 72: 
 
 Provided that you do no outrages 
 On silly women or 2)oor imssengers. 
 These were the conditions enjoined by Robin Hood on 
 his "merry men." He anticipated Claude du Val in his 
 respect for tlie weaker sex, and his compassion for the 
 poor. 
 
 93. Line 74: tve'll bring thee to our CAVES.— P. 1, F. 2, 
 F. 3 read crewes: F. 4 crews. But there does not seem 
 much sense in cretvs. Possibly crew may be the right 
 reading. Collier's MS. Corrector reads cave; Singer caves, 
 which seems the most probable emendation. In v. 3. 12 
 the First Outlaw says: 
 
 Come, I must bring you to our captain's caz-e. 
 
 Most bands of robbers or outlaws had more than one 
 cave. 
 
 172 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 94. Lines 19, 20: 
 
 for yo7i know that love 
 Will creep in service where it cannot go. 
 In Kelly's Collection of Scotch Proverbs is to be found, 
 according to Reed, the proverb, "Kindness will creei' 
 where it cannot gang." 
 
 95. Line 27: allycholli/.— This perverted form of melan- 
 choly is used by Mrs. Quickly in Merry Wives, i. 4. 164 : 
 . . . "But indeed she is given too much to allicholy and 
 musing." It is probable that Shakespeare had heard 
 some rustic person make this blunder; I cannot find tlie 
 word in any of the old dramatists, or in any other of the 
 writers of this period, or in any dictionary of slang. 
 
 96. Line 61: Xotso; hut yet so false, <.(:c.— The inck]mt 
 of Felismena overhearing the serenade of Don Felix is 
 thus described, in Yong's translation of Montemayor's 
 novel: "The great ioy that I felt in hearing him cannot 
 Vie imagined, for (me thought) I heard him nowe, as in 
 that happie and passed time of our loves. But after the 
 deceit of this imagination was discovered, seeing with 
 mine eies, and hearing with mine eares, that this musick 
 was bestowed upon another, and not on me, God knowes 
 what a bitter death it was unto my soiile. And with a 
 greeuous sigh, that carried almost my life away with it. 
 I asked mine host if be knew what the Ladie was for 
 whose sake tlie niusicKe was made? He answered nie, 
 that he could not imagine on whom it was bestowed, 
 bicause in that streete dwelled manic noble and faire 
 Ladies " (Hazlitt's Shak. Lib. part i. vol. i. pp. ibH, 287). 
 
 97. Lines 130, 131: 
 
 But since your falsehood shall become you icell 
 To worship shadoivs and adore false shapes. 
 The construction of this passage is undoubtedly difti. 
 cult; Johnson proposed to read, since you're false, it 
 shall become, &c. ; but no alteration is necessary. Douce's 
 explanation that become in this passage "answers to the 
 Latin convenire, and is used according to its genuine 
 A. Saxon meaning," which he explains to be "adapt, or 
 render you ttt," is entirely misleading. Convenire never 
 has that meaning; nor can 1 find a single instance of 
 become being used in such a sense. The infinitive, "to 
 ivorship and adore," has, I believe, here the sense of, "in 
 your worshipping and adoring," which, though it makes 
 a clumsy sentence, is not incompreheiisil)le (compare v. 
 4. 49. See note 121). If any alteration of the text were 
 made, we might read the first line thus: 
 
 But since it shall become yojir/alschoodiveil, 
 
 which is probably what Shakespeare, had he revi.sed the 
 passage, would have written. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 98. Line 4: 
 Egl. Madam! 
 
 Sil. Who calls? 
 
 Egl. Your servant and your friend. 
 
 Ff. print Madam, madam! Ilanmer very properly cut 
 out the second madam, which makes the line too long 
 and is <iuite unnecessary; it w.is, probably, an iiiterpola-
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT IV. Scono 4. 
 
 tioii of the actor. The use of the word ticrvant here, 
 applied by Eglamour to himself, should settle the ques- 
 tion as to whether Valentine, in asking Silvia to enter- 
 tain Proteus as " {e\lo\v-seroant" (ii. 4. lOG), intended 
 her to receive liim on the footing of a lover. Servant, in 
 this sense, meant nothing more than one who enrolled 
 himself among the courteous admirers of a beauty, 
 ready at all times to do her any service, but not neces- 
 sarily a suitor for her hand or heart. 
 
 99. Line 13: ONE valiant, wise, rciiiorneful, ivell-accom- 
 plinh'd.— For the insertion of one we are responsible, 
 ilost commentators remark on the awkwardness of the 
 line, as it stands in Ff. — 
 
 Valiant, wise, remorseful, well acconiplish'il. 
 
 Pope reads valiant and ivise, &c., and an anonymous 
 conjecture (quoted by Cambri<lge Edd.) would read Wise, 
 valiant, &c., transposing the two words. 
 
 100. Line 17: whom my very sold ABHOR'd. So Ff. — 
 Haniner, unnecessarily, I think, would read ahhurs, in 
 which he is followed by nearly all the editors. But surely 
 the past tense is admissiljle ; and does not necessarily 
 infer tliat Silvia does not still abhor Thurio as much, at 
 the time of speaking these words, as she did when he was 
 tiist proposed by her father as a husband. 
 
 101. Line 21: Upon whose grave thotivoiv'dst pure chas- 
 tity.— Steeveua says: " It was common in former ages for 
 widowers and widows to make vows of chastity in honour 
 of their deceased wives or husbands." He refers to Dug- 
 dale's Antiquities of Warwickshire, p. 1013, where there is 
 "the form of a commission by the bishop of the diocese 
 for taking a vow of chastity made by a widow." No in- 
 stance of such a form in the case of a widower is given. 
 But it was not unusual, at any rate in the earlier period 
 of Christianity, even for married persons to take vows of 
 chastity in the lifetime of their wives or liusbunds. 
 
 102. Lines 37, 38: 
 
 Madam, 1 pity much your gkievances ; 
 
 Which since I know they virtuously are plac'd. 
 Between these two lines Collier's MS. Corrector coolly 
 inserted another line: 
 
 And the most true afflictions that you bear. 
 
 Grievances is explained in the footnote as meaning 
 "the causes of your grief;" and Eglamour, far from in- 
 tending to express any opinion on Silvia's attachment to 
 Valentine, inerely means that he pities Silvia's cause for 
 grief in being pressed by her father to marry Thurio ; 
 and that the foundation for her grief is a virtuous and 
 proper one: in fact he confirms Silvia's own words (lines 
 
 2a-30) : 
 
 But think upon my }^rie/, a lady's ^r/ry. 
 And on the justice of my flying lience. 
 To keep me from a most unholy match. 
 
 ACT IV. SCEXK 4. 
 
 103. Line 29: the fellow that whips the dogs. —It is a 
 most curious fact that, in Mucedorus (1598),— a drama 
 once attributed to Shakesjjeare — we find the following 
 passage : 
 
 Mucedorus. ... I pray you, what office might you bear in the 
 court? 
 Clown. Marry, sir. I am a rusher of the stable. 
 
 Mucedorus. O, usher of the table. 
 
 Clown. Nay, I say rusher, and I'll prove my office good. For look, 
 sir, when any comes from under the sea or so, and a dog chance to, 
 . . . ihenwilh a whip I ^ivehiiK thegood thneo/the diiy.tmditv^w 
 rushes presently. Therefore I am a rusher; a high office, I promise 
 ye. — Dodsley, vol. vii. 240. 
 
 Steevens quotes a portion of this passage, but destroys 
 half the significance of it by suppressing the phrase 
 " rusher ot the stable," which indicates the renewal of 
 the rushes that strewed the floor, after such a catastrophe 
 as Launce's dog had occasioned, as being part of this ofii- 
 cial's duty. 
 
 104. Line 58: What, didst thou offer her this CVR from 
 we .*— Collier's MS. Corrector inserted cur, which, cer- 
 tainly, seems required both by sense and metre. 
 
 105. Line CO : the other SQUIRREL was stolen from me- 
 — Hanmer prints Squirrel, making it the name of the dog; 
 while other commentators suppose Launce's expression 
 refers to the size of the dog. But in Lilly's Endimiou 
 (ii. 2), is the following passage : 
 
 Sir Tophus. . . . What is that the gentlewoman carrieth ina chaineV 
 Epi. Why, it is a squirrtll. 
 
 Sir Tophus. A squirrtll I O goils what things are made for 
 money. — Works, vol. i. p. 27. 
 
 In a note (18) the editor (F. W. Fairholt) says: " In the 
 series of Tapestries published liy M. Jubiual is one copied 
 from " the Tapesti-y of Nancy," which curiously illustrates 
 this passage. In it is a lady of rank seated with a favourite 
 squirrel secured to her wrist by a chain. This tapestry 
 was found lining the tent of Charles the Bold, after he 
 was killed at the siege of Nancy, in 1476." It is to this 
 curious fancy of ladies for tame s<]uirrels that Launce 
 doubtless alludes, as well as to the small size of the dog. 
 Tliere is a dialectic meaning of the word squirrel, given 
 in Halliwell's Diet, that points to a. double entendre which 
 may have been intended by Launce. Compare a passage 
 in Captain Underwit, ii. 2(Bullen's Old Plays, vol. ii. p. 340). 
 
 106. Line 61 : hangman boys. F. 1 reads Hangmans 
 boxjes. F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, hangmans boy.— The reading in 
 the text, generally adopted, was first given by Singer, from 
 a copy of F. 2 in his possession; and is probably the right 
 one. Shakespeare, in Much Ado (iii. 2. 11), calls Cupid 
 "the little hangman;" but that passage is not much to 
 the point. In Heywood's 1st Part of Edward IV. (v. 3) 
 we find : 
 
 How doth Ned'!' qucth he, 
 That honest, merry huu^tnau, how doth he? 
 
 —Works, vol. i. p. 80. 
 
 This is the only passage I can find where the word is 
 used in any other sense than that of an executioner: it 
 seems to be equivalent to "rascal," used in a good- 
 natured sense. In the text it is used as an adjective, 
 probably equivalent to "mischievous" or "rascally." 
 
 107. Line 79: It seems you lov'd not her, TO leave her 
 tolcen. F. 1 reads, by a manifest printer's error, not 
 leave; corrected in F. 2. This use of to leave, in the sense 
 of "to part with," is well illustrated by two passages in 
 The Merchant of Venice, one of which it is sufficient to 
 quote : 
 
 I gave my love a ring and made him swear 
 
 Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
 
 I dare be sworn for him he would not leuTC it 
 
 —V. I. 170-172. 
 
 173
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ACT Y. Sceue 4. 
 
 Bassanio uses the word in tlie same sense further on 
 in that same scene (line 196). 
 
 108. Line 120: Madam, IF't plcane ymi. Ff. read Mada)ii, 
 please ijou, Ac, makinj; a very awlcward and imperfect 
 line. There are various emendations; for the i/'t, whicli 
 we liave ventured to insert, it may be said that the fit of 
 the line above nii^ht easily have caused confusion, and 
 made the printer omit the i/'t just below it. 
 
 109. Line 160, 101: 
 
 And PINCH'D the lily-tincture of her face. 
 That now she is become as black as I. 
 Johnson has a note on this passage, " the colour of a part 
 pinched is livid, as it is commonly termed, black and 
 blue. The weather may therefore be justly said to j^nch 
 when it produces the same visible effect." 
 
 110. Line 187: Since she respects MY mistress' love so 
 ?/n(c7i.— Ilunmer, very unnecessarily, altered my to his; 
 but the touch of Julia's speaking, as if the character she 
 had assumed were her real one, is a very dramatic one. 
 She had spoken above of Jnlia (herself) as my poor 
 -mistress; and she now keeps up the pretence for a 
 moment, though she is alone. The next line in the 
 
 te.xt : 
 
 Alas, how love can trifle with itself; 
 
 shows that the assumption was intentional, as if she was 
 trifiinij with her own sorrow; and gives the actress a grand 
 opportunity for the expression of subtle pathos in tlie 
 delivery of the former line. 
 
 111. Line 197: Her eyes are GR.4.T AS GLASS.— Douce 
 quotes two instances of the exjjression gray as glass from 
 the old Romances; and Theobald quotes, from Chaucer's 
 description of the Prioress: 
 
 hire eyen i^rny ns g-l,,s. 
 
 — Prologue, Canterbury Tales, line 152. 
 
 112. Line 19S: her forehead's loiv, and mine's as high.— 
 It seems that a. high forehead was, in Shakespeare's time, 
 accounted a beauty in a woman. We have all of us seen 
 liow much the fashion varies in this respect. One year 
 women brush their hair off their head ; another, they 
 plaster, or train it down nearly to their eyebrows. 
 
 113. Line 206: 3fy substance should he statue in thy 
 stead.—Slatue was used for a picture, as well as for a 
 statue; here it is equivalent to "an inanimate image" at 
 least; if it is not to be interpreted as simply meaning "a 
 picture." Compare the following passage in Massinger's 
 City Madam, v. 3: 
 
 Sir yohtt. Your nieces, ere they put to sea, crave humbly 
 
 Though absent in their bodies, they may take leave 
 Of their late svixxox^ statues. 
 
 Luke. There they hatig. — Works, p. 455. 
 
 In this scene the statues are represented by living men, 
 but it is plain fmni the context they were meant to be 
 2)ictures and not statues. 
 
 ACT V. SCKNE 1. 
 
 114. Line 3: Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet 
 jfic— Ff. read That Silvia, <£-c. Pope omitted That: 
 Steevens omitted Friar. It is most probable tliat tlie 
 word that was inadvertently left in by Shakespeare. 
 
 174 
 
 115. Line 7: Enter fiu.\j.\, ina.^^kcd.^Vor the justifica- 
 tion of this addition to the stage-direction, see lines 39, ^0 
 of the next scene: 
 
 —and guess'd that it was she. 
 But, being miisk'd, he was not sure of it. 
 
 ACT V. ScKXic 2. 
 
 116. Line 7: Jul. [aside] But love ivill not be spurr'd 
 to what it loathes. — Tills line is given by mistake in the 
 Ff. to Proteus. By a similar error, lines 13, 14 were given 
 to Thurio in Ff. 
 
 117. Line 29: That they are ovr BY LEASE.— Itisgenerally 
 explained, on the strength of an extract from the "Edin- 
 burgh Magazine, Nov. 1780;" given by Steevens, that 
 Proteus refers to "the mental endowments of Tliurio," 
 which are out by lease, i.e. are enjoyed by some one else 
 not the owner. It seems to me this is rather a weak 
 explanation ; and we should expect the preposition on 
 rather than by if such were the meaning. Probably there 
 is some double meaning in 2>ossessions which has not yet 
 been discovered. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 118. Line 7: Being niinble-f noted, he hath outrun us. — 
 If any proof were wanted of the carelessness with which 
 this last act is constructed, this line would afford it. Sir 
 Eglamour, who has hitherto been represented as a chival- 
 rous gentleman, basely deserts the lady whom he has 
 undertaken to escort, without making any attempt to 
 defend her. The author seems to have forgotten what 
 he had previously written ; or to have adopted the first 
 device that came into his head for getting rid of one of 
 his characters. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 119. Line 2: 
 
 These shadowy, desert, unfrequented woods. 
 Ff. read : 
 
 This shadowy desert, uufrequeitted woods. 
 
 The reading in the text is from Collier's JIS. , a most 
 excellent emendation. Desert here means simply de- 
 serted, or, perhaps, uncidtivated. I can make no sense 
 of the line as it stands in the original text. 
 
 120. Line 19. — The progress of events is certainly very 
 rapid in this act. Silvia meets Eglamour, goes with him 
 "thi'ee leagues" into the forest; meanwliile, the Diike 
 meets Friar Laurence (v. 2. 37), who tells him that he 
 had seen Silvia, masked, with Eglamour: the Duke, 
 Proteus, Julia (disguised), and Thurio go in pursuit; the 
 outlaws capture Silvia; Eglamour having taken to his 
 heels: Proteus rescues Silvia. If all these events take 
 place between sunset and night of tlie same day, as Mr. 
 Daniel in his Time Analysis suggests, tliey must lijive 
 followed one another with marvellous rapidity. Most 
 probably we should suppose a day to elapse between 
 scenes 1 and 2, and scene 3. But this act is constructed 
 in a very slipshod manner, and bears signs of having been 
 compressed by the author, out of deference to the require- 
 ments of the stage.
 
 WORDS PECULIAR TO TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 121. Lilies 48, 49: 
 
 and all those oaths 
 Descended into perjury, TO LOVE ME. 
 To love me here = in loving me. See note 97, iv. 2. 131. 
 
 122. Line 71: The private loound is deepest: Oh time 
 most accurst.— M<)&t editors liave made tliis line scan 
 according to the usual rules of metre, by omitting most 
 and printing deepest, deep'st; or by reading curst for 
 accurst. But liere is an instance of a dramatic force given 
 to a line by tlie employment of two extra syllables. Tlie 
 actor pauses after " The private wound is deepest " — 
 deep'st would liave no force in such a sentence— then he 
 resumes with strong emotion. Oh time most accurst, 
 dwelling on the Oh. The extra syllables do not jar upon 
 the ear, while tliey increase the dramatic force of the 
 line. Again, at line 73, Proteus is so overcome with 
 shame that he cannot speak at first; he tries to do so, but 
 the words "stick in his throat;" tlierefore we have a 
 
 short imperfect line far more expressive than any com- 
 plete one could be: 
 
 . . . Sfy shame and guilt confounds me. 
 
 123. Lines 82, 83: 
 
 And, that my love may appear plain and free, 
 All that ivas mine in Silvia I give thee. 
 Any attempt to explain these two lines, so as to reconcile 
 them to common sense and the ordinary ideas of loyalty 
 in love, is misplaced. As it has been already pointed out, 
 in the Introduction to this play, they are closely akin in 
 sentiment to one or two of the Sonnets, in which Shake- 
 speare resigns his mistress to his friend "W. H."— who 
 has, apparently on his part, anticipated the conveyance of 
 his friend's vested interests in the young woman— with 
 no less romantic generosity. 
 
 124. Line 129: MiLAXO shall not hold thee.—Vt. read 
 Verona, an evident slip, similar to others which have 
 occurred in this play. AVe liave adopted Collier's emen- 
 dation. 
 
 WOIiDS OCCURRING ONLY IX TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 Note. — The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 
 used as a subst;intive, adjective, ver)), or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 
 Those compound wuids marked with an asterisk are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 Agood iv. 4 170 
 
 Baal i. 
 
 Babble 2 (sub.). i. 
 
 Bottom (verb)., iii. 
 
 Braggardism . . ii. 
 
 Cliurlishly i. 
 
 Conceitless. . . . iv. 
 Contemptuously i. 
 
 Corded * '!' 
 
 ( 111. 
 
 Cruel-hearted . ii. 
 
 Direction-giver iii. 
 
 Dire-lamenting iii. 
 
 Disability ii. 
 
 Fellow-servant ii. 
 
 Fodder i. 
 
 *Full-frauglit .. iii. 
 
 Gingeily i. 
 
 Heart-sore - }.' 
 
 ( u. 
 
 1 98 
 
 2 98 
 2 53 
 4 1(J4 
 
 2 60 
 
 2 9.j 
 
 2 112 
 G 33 
 
 1 40 
 
 3 10 
 
 2 90 
 2 82 
 
 4 109 
 
 4 10.-) 
 
 1 92 
 
 1 The cry of a sheep. The verb 
 " to ha" is used in JIuch Ado, iii. 
 3. 75, and in C'oriolunu.s, ii. 1. 12. 
 J?«, as an exclamation, occurs in 
 Love's Labour's Lost, v. 1. 52, 5;i. 
 
 - Bibble babble occurs in 
 Twelfth Night, iv. 2. 10.5, and 
 (in the form of pibble pabble) in 
 Henry V. iv. 1. 71. 
 
 Heaven-bred . . 
 Home-keeping. 
 
 Illiterate 3 
 
 Impose (sub.).. 
 Inscrutable.. .. 
 
 Lawlessly 
 
 Lily-tincture . . 
 
 Love-affairs 
 
 Love-book .... 
 Love-discourse 
 *Love-woupded 
 Lumpish 
 
 iletamorphosed 
 
 "Jlountain-foot 
 Movingly 
 
 Xew-fouiiiH. . . 
 Nick = (sub.)... 
 *Nimble-footed 
 
 .\ct So. Liii 
 
 1 296 
 3 8 
 1 141 
 
 f '• 
 
 Noddy . 
 
 14 
 160 
 2.54 
 
 19 
 127 
 113 
 
 C2 
 
 1 66 
 
 1 32 
 
 2 46 
 1 134 
 
 3 7 
 1 119 
 1 131 
 
 3 Occurs in Lucrece, line 810. 
 
 •* Occurs in Sonnet Ixxvi. line 4. 
 
 5 In Othello, v. 2. 317, Q. 1 reads 
 nicke instead of interim (Ff.). The 
 verb to nick occurs in Antony and 
 Cleopatra, iii. 13. 8, and Comedy 
 of Errors, v. 1. 175. 
 
 Act Se. Line 
 
 Note-worthy . . i. 
 
 Odd-conceited, ii. 
 
 O'erslips'"' (sub.) ii. 
 
 Parable ii. 
 
 Penitential. ... ii. 
 
 Perversely iii. 
 
 Pound" i. 
 
 Principality 8 . . ii. 
 
 Proff erer i. 
 
 Publisher 3 iii. 
 
 Rifleio iv. 
 
 Robin-redbreast ii. 
 
 Shelving iii. 
 
 Silver shedding iii. 
 
 Sluggardized . . i. 
 
 Soul-confirming ii. 
 
 ".Sourest-natur'd ii. 
 
 Spaniel-like.. . . iv. 
 
 Spokesman ii. 
 
 Summer-swelling ii. 
 
 7 46 
 
 2 9 
 
 .5 41 
 
 4 131 
 
 2 28 
 
 1 114 
 4 152 
 
 2 56 
 1 47 
 
 1 4 
 
 1 21 
 
 1 115 
 
 1 230 
 
 1 7 
 
 14 
 152 
 162 
 
 s Overslipp'd occurs in Lucrece, 
 line 1576. 
 
 " In the sense of a pinfolil. 
 
 8 See note 49. Principalities (in 
 the ordinary sense' occurs in An- 
 tony and Cleopatra, iii. 13. 19. 
 
 9 Occurs in Lucrece, line 33. 
 
 10 Occurs with o/ in Lucrece, 
 lines 692, 1050. 
 
 175 
 
 Act 
 Sun bright .... iii. 
 Sun-expelling., iv. 
 
 Swarthy ii. 
 
 *Sweet-ciiniplain- 
 
 ing iii. 
 
 Sweet-suggesting ii. 
 
 Tarriance'i ... ii. 
 
 Testerned i. 
 
 Tournaments.. i. 
 ^True-confirnied iv. 
 True-devoted., ii. 
 Turmoil ii. 
 
 Uncompassionate iii. 
 
 Undeserving 1-. iii. 
 
 Unheedfully . . i. 
 
 L'nmellowed. . . ii. 
 
 rnprevented .. iii. 
 
 Unreversed.... iii. 
 
 Unrivaled v. 
 
 Unseeing '3 iv. 
 
 Visibly ii. 
 
 Wailful iii. 
 
 Water-spaniel., iii. 
 
 * Well-reputed, ii. 
 
 8c. Line 
 
 1 88 
 4 158 
 6 26 
 
 7 90 
 
 1 V,3 
 
 3 SO 
 
 4 108 
 7 9 
 7 37 
 1 231 
 
 1 7 
 
 2 3 
 4 70 
 1 21 
 1 223 
 
 4 144 
 
 4 209 
 
 7 4 
 
 2 69 
 
 1 271 
 
 7 43 
 
 11 Occurs in Pilgrim, line 74. 
 
 12 Occurs in Love's Labour's 
 Lost, V. 2. ."ttiS, where .Schmidt and 
 others take it to be a sub. 
 
 r-'' Occurs in Sonnet xliii. line 8.
 
 EMENDATIONS ON TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 
 
 Kote 
 8. i. 1. 28. Val / iciU not, for it boots thee not. 
 
 Pro. Ho'l-^trliatf 
 
 88. iv. 1. 5. Sir, SIR, ice are ■undone. 
 
 9il. iv. 3. IS. One caliant, ivi.se, remorseful, uell-acconqilislid. 
 108. iv. 4. 120. Jladain, IF 'T please you. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED. 
 
 85. iii. 2. 49. But say this wind her love from Valentine. 
 U7. iv. 2. 130. Cut since IT shall become your falsehood irell. 
 ITC.
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL. 
 
 12
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 EscALUS,' Prince of Verona. 
 
 Paris, a young nobleman, kinsman to the Prince. 
 
 Montague, 
 
 r^ . T>T.T T^m ( heads of two houses at variance with each other. 
 
 ^APLLET, J 
 
 An Old Man,- kinsman to Capulet. 
 
 EoMEO, son to Montague. 
 
 Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince, and friend to Romeo. 
 
 Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. 
 
 Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. 
 
 Friar Laurence, ) 
 
 Friar John, \ Franciscans. 
 
 Balthasar, servant to Romeo. 
 
 Sampson, ) 
 
 Gregory, p^"^'^"*« *« C^P"^«*- 
 
 Peter, servant to Juliet's nurae. 
 
 Abraham, servant to Montague. 
 
 An Apothecary. 
 
 Three Musicians. 
 
 Page to Paris. 
 
 First Citizen.' 
 
 Lady Montague, wife to Montague, 
 Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet. 
 Juliet, daughter to Capulet. 
 Nurse to Juliet. 
 
 Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Women, relatiuns to both houses ; Maskers, Guarils, 
 
 Watchmen, and Attendants. 
 Chorus. 
 
 Scene: Verona: Mantua. 
 
 Historical Period : early part of the fourteenth century. 
 
 TIME OF ACTION. 
 
 Six consecutive days, commencing on the morning of the first, and ending early in the 
 morning of the sixth.* 
 
 Day 1 (Sunday): Act I. and Act II., Scenes 1 
 
 and 2. 
 Day 2 (Monday): Act II., Scenes 3, 4, 5, 6; 
 
 Act in.. Scenes 1, 2, 3, 4. 
 
 1 Evidently a corruption of la Scala, the real name of 
 the prince who governed Verona at the time when tlie 
 tragedy was supposed to take place. 
 
 2 Called Uncle in the list of invited guests, act i. 2 71. 
 
 178 
 
 Day .3 (Tuesday): Act III., Scene 5; Act IV., Scenes 
 
 1, 2, .3, 4. 
 Day 4 (Wednesday): Act IV., Scene 5. 
 Day 5 (Thursday): Act V. 
 Day 6 (Friday): End of Act V., Scene 3. 
 
 3 Called First Officer in Cambridge. 
 * This is Mr. P. A. Daniel's calculation, and seems to be 
 correct.
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 LITERARY HISTORY. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet is one of the plays which 
 certainly has a literary history, and a very 
 interesting one. It was first published, in 
 Quarto, in 1597 (Q. 1). This edition differs 
 much from the subsequent ones, and probably 
 represents, more or less accurately, the play 
 as originally written by Shakespeare, before 
 the revisions and additions which apjiear in the 
 next Quarto. On the title-page it is stated 
 that this tragedy has "been often (with great 
 applause) plaid publiquely by the right Hon- 
 ourable the L. of Hunsdon his Seniants." 
 Lord Hunsdon died while holding the office 
 of Lord Chamberlain, on 22nd July, 1.596. It 
 was not until 17th April, 1597, that Lord 
 Hunsdon's successor was appointed Lord 
 Chamberlain. In the interim the Company, 
 whose proper title was " The Lord Chamber- 
 lain's men,' were called simjd}' " Lord Huns- 
 don's servants." It follows that this tragedy 
 must haA'e been played between the dates men- 
 tioned above ; but that Shakespeare had, at 
 least, commenced it at a much earlier period 
 is tolerably certain. The date of 1591 has been 
 fixed upon, because of the allusion to the earth- 
 quake made by the Nurse (i. 3. 23) : 
 
 "'Tis since the earthquake now elecen years," 
 
 which is sujjposed to refer to the earthquake 
 of 1580. As Stokes points out, in his Chrono- 
 logical Order of Shakes^jeare's Plays (p. 21), 
 the Nurse repeats this statement (i. 3. 35): 
 
 "And since that time it is eleven years; " 
 
 but I do not think that this point is at all 
 decisive as to the date of the play. It is quite 
 possible that Shakespeare never meant to refer 
 to the earthquake of 1580 at all. Hunter 
 sujjposes that the allusion is to an earthquake 
 
 which occurred in the neighbourhood of Ve- 
 rona in 1570. But, putting aside this trivial 
 detail, we may be tolerably sure that Eomeo 
 and Juliet was one of Shakespeare's youthful 
 works. He commenced it at a very early period 
 of his career ; he revised it, and added to it, 
 at different periods between 1592 and 1599, 
 when the Second Quarto appeared (Q. 2). In 
 1609 the next edition (Q. 3) was published : 
 this differs very little from Q. 2, except in a 
 few con-ections and additional lines. The next 
 edition (Q. 4) has no date, and was evidently 
 printed from Q. 3. The author's name appears 
 for the first time on the title-page of this edi- 
 tion. It was printed "/or John Smethicicke,^ 
 but the printer's name is not given. The next 
 edition in jjoint of time is that of the First 
 Folio (F. 1), 1623, taken apparently from the 
 text of Q. 3. Yet another Quarto Edition (Q. 5), 
 "substantially identical with Q. 4," according 
 to the Cambridge Edd., was jjublished in 
 1637. Of these texts, Q. 2 i.s, perhaps, the 
 best authority ; but Q. 1 has furnished many 
 readings which have been almost universally 
 preferred to those of the later editions. Again 
 I must dissent from the depreciation of the 
 First Folio, which is probably the nearest to 
 an accurate copy of the j^lay as represented in 
 Shakespeare's own theati-e. 
 
 As to the source from which this jjlay was 
 derived, A^olumes have been written, and prolj- 
 ably will yet be written. There can be little 
 doubt as to the work which furnished the 
 main foundation of Shakespeare's tragedy. 
 This was " The Tragicall Historye of Eomeus 
 and Juliet, written first in Italian by Bandell, 
 and nowe in Englishe by Ar. Br. {i.e. Arthur 
 Brooke), 1562." I will give as briefly as po.s- 
 sible the genealogy of this jioem. In the second 
 century Xenophon of Ephesus wrote a romance 
 called Ephesiaca, in which a young woman, who 
 179
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 is "separated by a series of misfortunes from 
 her husband," in order to avoid being forced 
 into a bigamous marriage, swallows what she 
 believes to be poison, but which turns out to 
 be only a sleeping draught. In 1303 the 
 main incidents of the Tragedy of Eomeo and 
 Juliet are sjiid really to have occurred at 
 Verona during the government of Bartolo- 
 meo della Scala. In 1476, in a collection of 
 tales (Le C'inquante Novelle, &c.), was pub- 
 lished a novellino, by Massuccio of Salerno, 
 relating the adventures of Mariotto Migna- 
 nelli and Gianozza Saraceni of Siena, which 
 bears a veiy striking resemblance to the stoiy 
 of Romeo and Juliet. In 1530 Luigi Da 
 Poi'to published his history of Two Noble 
 Lovers, &c., considered by some to have been 
 founded on the historical tradition of Eomeo 
 and Juliet, by otliers on Massuccio's story. 
 In 1553 Gabriel Giolito published in Venice 
 a poem supposed to have been written by 
 Clitia, nobile Veronese, which is virtually the 
 same story as that of Da Porto ; and in 1 554 
 Matteo Balidello, in his collection of novels 
 published at Lucca, gives his story of Eomeo 
 e Julietta. This story was translated into 
 French in 1559 by Pierre Boaistuau, or Bois- 
 teau, surnamed Launay; his version contains 
 several variations from the Italian story ; e.g. 
 he first introduces the scene with the poor 
 Apothecary from whom Romeo buys the poi- 
 son. It was from this French translation that 
 Brooke produced his metrical version of the 
 story, amplifying it and adding to the details; 
 he introduced some new incidents which have 
 been ado]>ted by Shakesjieare, and are not 
 found in any other known version of the story. 
 In 1567 William Painter, in the second volume 
 of his Palace of Pleasure, })roduced "The 
 goodly Hystory of the true and constant Loue 
 between Ehomeo and Julietta, the one of 
 whom died of Poyson, and the other of sorrow 
 and heaviness : wherein be comprysed many 
 adventures of Loue, and other devises touch- 
 inge the same." Painter's version is a pretty 
 close, but not very intelligent translation of 
 Boaistuau's novel. Lastly, in 1578 (the date of 
 the dedication to his drama), the blind poet and 
 actor, Luigi Groto, surnamed il Cieco d'Ha- 
 dria, produced his tragedy. La Hadriana. Al- 
 180 
 
 though this tragedy is cast in a severely 
 classical forai, and is tedious to a degree only 
 reached, jierhaps, by the Italian tragedy of the 
 sixteenth century, its story is mainly that of 
 Romeo and Juliet ; it contains some beautiful 
 passages and veiy touching scenes. I have 
 not space here to enter into the question : 
 Had Shakespeare ever seen this tragedy, or 
 any translation of it? A careful examination 
 of the passages from which Shakespeare is 
 said to have borrowed some of his ideas, con- 
 vinces me there is no foundation for such 
 a statement ; that mention of the nightingale 
 is made, in the scene of the parting of the 
 two lovers, is not a remarkable coincidence; 
 while, in no case, can I find that any of the 
 characteristic expressions of Groto have been 
 copied by Shakespeare. There is only one 
 detail peculiar to Groto's story, which Shake- 
 speare also introduces; that is, when the father 
 is lamenting the supposed death of his daugh- 
 ter, one of his ministers oft'ers to him consola- 
 tion, just as Friar Lawrence recommends resig- 
 nation to Capulet, when lamenting the death 
 of Juliet ; but there seem to be no expressions 
 or ideas common to the two jiassages.^ 
 
 Two other plays may be mentioned which 
 are on the same subject; one by Lope de 
 Vega called Castelvines y Monteses, of which 
 a very interesting abstract is given in Grey's 
 Notes on Shakespeare (edn. 1754), vol. ii. pp. 
 249-262. It ends happily, and though its main 
 incidents are evidently founded on the story 
 of Eomeo and Juliet (who become in the 
 Spanish comedy Eoselo and Julia respectively), 
 there is not much resemblance between Lope 
 de Vega's play and that of Shakespeare. Hun- 
 ter, in his New Illustrations of Shakespeare, 
 vol. ii. pp. 130-134, gives an account with ex- 
 tracts of the fragment of a Latin play dis- 
 covered by him in the Sloane Collection of 
 MSS. (No. 1775) in the British Museum, in 
 which the story of Eomeo and Juliet is fol- 
 lowed pretty closely as far as it goes. Hunter 
 suggests that this may have been the previous 
 
 1 For tlie al)Ove account of the sources wlience this 
 play is taken I am indebted to Mr. P. A. Daniel's admir- 
 able introduction to the volume published for the New 
 Shakspere Society, being No. 1, Series III. (Triibner and 
 Co. 1875).
 
 INTKODUCTION. 
 
 dramatized version alluded to by Brooke in 
 his preface. 
 
 To conclude, then, we may say that Shake- 
 si:)eare worked out his tragedy from Brooke's 
 poem ; but that, perhaps, he had either seen 
 or read in MS. an earlier tragedy on the 
 same subject, to which Brooke refers in his 
 address to the reader. 
 
 STAGE HISTORY. 
 
 This play was, as we gather from the title- 
 page of the first edition, pojjular on the stage 
 before 1597, though there is no evidence to 
 prove when it was first produced. Curious to 
 say it is not mentioned in Henslowe's Diary. 
 Up to 1599, it must have been chiefly acted 
 by the Lord Chamberlain's servants. In the 
 edition of 1609, it is said to have been "sun- 
 drie times publiquely Acted, by the Kings 
 Maiesties Seruants at the Globe." Pepys men- 
 tions it under the date of 1st March, 1661-62, 
 as an opera. It would appear, however, from 
 Genest's accovnit that, on this date, Romeo 
 and Juliet was revived at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
 when Betterton ])layed Mercutio. The cast 
 contains a character " Count Pai'is' wife — 
 played ])y Mrs. Holden" — who she was does 
 not appear. The play was "altered by James 
 Howard so as to preserve Romeo alive and 
 to end happily — it was played alternately as 
 a Tragedy one day, and as a Tragi -Comedy 
 another, for several times together." It does 
 not appear to have been revived again till 
 11th September, 1744; when Theophilus Gib- 
 ber's version, partly founded upon Otway's 
 Cains Marius (about half of which was taken 
 from Romeo and Juliet) was presented, with 
 Theoiihilus Gibber as Romeo, and his sister 
 Jenny as Juliet. Genest gives a very inter- 
 esting al^stract of this alteration; but it does 
 not appear that the disfigurements introduced 
 were so great as to neutralize the merit, which 
 Theophilus Gibber may fairly claim, of having 
 restored to the stage, though in an imperfect 
 form, one of the most beautiful of Shakespeare's 
 plays which had been laid on the shelf for over 
 eighty years. This revival appears to have 
 been very successful ; but before long that 
 monument of obstructive fussiness, the Lord 
 Chamberlain, had interfered. On 1st Novem- 
 
 ber Gibber was obliged to announce the play 
 thus: "At Gibber's Academy in the Hay- 
 market will be performed a Concert, after 
 which will be exhibited {Gratis) a Rehearsal, 
 in the form of a ])lay called Romeo and Juliet." 
 It appears that, but for this intelligent inter- 
 ference, a mimber of Shakespeare's plays might 
 have been revived. We learn, f romMrs.Charke's 
 memoirs, that Gymbeline was actually pre- 
 sented on 8th November, 1744; and that her 
 brother played Posthumus; the version being 
 not D'Urfey's mutilation, but Shakesi^eare's ori- 
 ginal ijlay. By 2nd January, 1745, Theophilus 
 Gibber was engaged at Govent Garden; leav- 
 ing his sister, the eccentric Charlotte Charke, 
 to manage the company at the Hayniaiket 
 theatre, and to baflde, as best she could, the 
 edicts of the Lord Chamberlain. We now come 
 to animijortant event in the stage history of this 
 play. In 1748, for the first time at Drury Lane, 
 Romeo and Juliet, as altered by Garrick, was 
 produced, with Barry as Romeo : a part in 
 which he has, perhaps, never been surjiassed 
 by any other actor either before or after him. 
 The chief alteration seems to have been in the 
 last act, in which Juliet is made to awaken 
 before Romeo is dead; and a number of in- 
 difterent and tawdry lines, taken j^artly from 
 Otway and jjartly from Gongreve's Mourning 
 Bride, were added. On this occasion it was 
 acted nineteen times. It is probable that 
 Barry's remarkable success as Romeo was the 
 main cause of his secession to Govent Garden; 
 where, on 28th Sejrtember, 1750, he made his 
 first appeai'ance at that theatre in the part of 
 Romeo, to the Juliet of Mrs. C*iljber, who 
 likewise had seceded from Garrick's troupe. 
 On this occasion Barry s])oke a pi'ologue, at- 
 tacking Garrick; and Shakespeare's play was 
 further disfigured by the addition of the 
 funeral procession of Juliet ai]d a dismal dirge. 
 On the same evening (28th September), at 
 Drury Lane, Garrick aj^peared, for the first 
 time, as Romeo ; and for twelve nights, till 
 11th October, this play continued to be acted 
 at both theatres; much to the annoyance of 
 regular theatre-goers, who were very discon- 
 tented at the long contimuince of such mono- 
 tonous fare. It would appear that Garrick 
 excelled in the scene with the Friar in the third 
 181
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 act, and in the scene with the Apothecary in 
 tlie last act; but iu all the tender and more 
 romantic jiassages Biirry seems completely to 
 liave eclipsed him.^ From this time forward 
 Komeoand Juliet continued to hold the stage; 
 JK'ing indeed, with the sole exception ])erhaps 
 of Hamlet, the most popular of .Shakespeare's 
 plays. Space would not allow us to record 
 even the most remarkable among these nu- 
 merous representations. Suffice it to say that 
 such essentially dissimilar actors as Wroughton, 
 Elliston, Ednmnd Kean, Charles Kemble, 
 Macready,&c., have played Romeo. As Juliet 
 sui-h distinct actresses as Mrs. Siddons, 'Mvs. 
 Jordan, Miss O'Neil, &c., have rendered them- 
 selves famous. It is to be hoped that the so- 
 called alterations of, and additions to this play, 
 which self-complacent authors deemed to be 
 impi'ovements, have been for ever banished 
 fi'om our English stage. 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 Thei-e is little doubt that tliis play, with 
 the sole exception i)erlia2)S of Hamlet, affords 
 us a gi-eater insight into Shakespeare's method 
 of working than any other of his known works. 
 Commenced at an early age, it was produced 
 first in a somewhat crude form. It maybe safely 
 .said that the editions of this ])lay, jniblished 
 in 1597, and 1599 respectively, differ almost as 
 much in merit as the two first (.Quarto editions 
 of Hamlet. The alterations and additions, in 
 both cases, are most important, and show not 
 only how much the subject was endeared to 
 the author, but also how much pains he took 
 in revising each of these favourite children of 
 his brain. It need scarcely be said that, as 
 far as both intellectual and di'amatic power go, 
 Romeo and Juliet can .scarcely be compared 
 with Handet : but, in both cases, we see how 
 truly artistic Shake.s])eare's mind was, and to 
 what a remarkable degree he jjossessed that 
 distinction of gi-eat poets — the indisj)osition 
 to "rest and be thankful" when once he had 
 
 1 It is a remarkable cirtunistance that all the actors of 
 the greatest trajjic power, who have played Romeo, have 
 l)een said to excel in the scene with the .■Apothecary, and 
 in tlie last scene at the tonih ; however great their de- 
 fects may liave been in the more tender portions of the 
 play. 
 
 182 
 
 given form to the creation of his brain; we 
 see how carefully and lovingly he elaborated 
 and beautified the ideas which sprang from 
 his fertile imagination. Romeo and Juliet is 
 an exti'emely iniequal work. It contains in a 
 marked degi'ee many of the blemishes of 
 Shakespeare's early style. To say nothing of 
 the unskilled form of the verse; of the many 
 sonnet-like and rhyming lines, deficient in 
 that variety of cadence which his dramatic ex- 
 perience gradually t^iught him to acquire, it 
 is full of elaborate conceits; we find even out- 
 rages on good taste, occurring in the mid.st of 
 the most beautiful }jas.sages, aud with an ob- 
 trusive incongruity which absolutely makes 
 one shudder. Perhaps the worst line that 
 Shakespeare, or any other ];(jet ever wrote, is 
 contiiined in Romeo and Juliet; I mean that 
 dreadful line when Romeo, in the very height 
 of his jiassionate despair, says: 
 
 " Flies may do thi.«, Vmt I from this must Jl;/." 
 
 It is not too much to say that this line is 
 worthy of modern burlesque. There are other 
 passages to which it is unneces.sary to allude 
 at length, for they can only be qualified as 
 obscene. This play is also remarkable as Iteing 
 almost entirely sensvous in its main subject. 
 That it is not sensiial is due to the fact, that it 
 was written by a man whose innate ])urity of 
 heart was one of his most remarkable charac- 
 teristics. Neither Romeo nor Juliet is, when 
 critically considered, a veiy interesting ]ier- 
 son. When we fir.st see him, Romeo is mo])- 
 ing under the effects of an unrequited love 
 for Rosaline; a love which he would have us 
 believe is the greater part of his life. Rosa- 
 line is cold; she does not respond to the fer- 
 vour of his jiassion. He professes himself, and 
 indeed his friends also consider him to be, 
 quite crushed by this disappointment. He 
 goes to a masked ball, and at once falls ^^o- 
 lently in love with a young girl, a perfect 
 stranger. He forgets all about Rosaline; and 
 transfers to his new love, with compound in- 
 terest, all the ardour which had been ex- 
 pended in vain on the pursuit of his first. 
 Juliet, a young girl just blooming into woman- 
 hood, conceives an equally strong passion for 
 this young man, whom .she has only seen upon
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 this one occasion. It is indeed a case of love 
 at first sight, violent in its beginning, and 
 likely, as most such affections do, either to die 
 a death equally sudden as its biii;!!, or to linger 
 on through an unhappy existence. The fact 
 that these two are hereditary enemies lends 
 an additional romance to their irrational pas- 
 sion. So far we have the promise of a tra- 
 gedy, an interesting tragedy, and one which 
 ajtpeals to tlie most wide-sjjread sympathies of 
 both sexes. In less worthy hands the tragedy 
 might have taken the ordinary course of an 
 intrigue, perhaps of a secret marriage with a 
 fatal result to one or both of the lovers. But 
 here it is that Shakespeare's genius asserts 
 itself. The balcony scene, as it is called, in 
 Eomeo and Juliet is, without any exception, 
 the most beautiful love scene ever written. It 
 may safely be said that only one man could 
 ever have conceived or executed such a mas- 
 terpiece of dramatic poetry. Let us try and 
 imagine what this exquisitely delicate scene 
 might have become, in the liands of such dra- 
 matists as Marston, or Chapman, or Heywood, 
 oi' Massinger, or any one of Shakesjjeare's 
 contemporaries; to say nothing of his prede- 
 cessors or successors. Let us see what it be- 
 comes in Shakes])eare's hands. Can anything 
 be more perfect than the subtle blending of 
 innocence and passion which cliai-acterizes 
 Juliet's declaration of her love? She is alone, 
 as she believes, with nothing but the moon and 
 the stars, and the delightfully scented orange- 
 groves, as witnesses of her confession. We 
 know that Eomeo is there, but she does not. 
 We feel at once what may be called the tra- 
 gedy of opportunity; we feel that this yomig 
 girl, little more than a child, might go back 
 to her A^rgin bed and bedew her pillow with 
 l)assionate tears; and that in a few weeks, or 
 perhaps days, she might be ready to many 
 the man Avhom her jmrents had arbitrarily 
 chosen for her. But an improbable and un- 
 expected opportunity comes. Eomeo has been 
 drawn by an irresistible impulse to the place 
 which enshrines the object of his new-bom 
 adoration. He is there, unseen, to receive 
 the confession which tells him that his love 
 is returned. This scene is one which may 
 well stir the coldest nature, and quicken 
 
 the pulsation of the most world - hardened 
 heart. 
 
 There is not, from the beginning to the end 
 of this master-piece of passionate love-making, 
 one indelicate thought or impure sentence. As 
 the moonlight softens all the most rugged out- 
 lines; shedding upon the gnarled trunks, and 
 on the hardest, thorniest foliage the silver 
 bloom of her softening light; giving to each 
 petty vista of the formal garden the mysterious 
 majesty of a forest avenue; even so the ex- 
 quisite bloom of innocence refines and purifie.s 
 the unrestrained outbursts of Juliet's pas- 
 sionate nature; giving to what might so easily 
 wear the forbidding shape of lust, or the lurid 
 glare of sensuality, the delicate charm, the 
 tender light of an ideal love. The abandon- 
 ment of all restraint, checked with such ex- 
 quisite self-recollection, just when it is trem- 
 bling on the brink of shamelessness; the lovely 
 maiden blush which bepaints her cheek, though 
 she may be unconscious of it; the innate 
 chastity which excites the reverence of her 
 lover, even in the height of his passion, which 
 forbids him to attempt any nearer approach 
 to the object of his adoration ; these are touches 
 that none but a true poet, who had preserved, 
 amidst all the corruj)ting influences of the 
 world, that reverence for purity which is the 
 crown of manly genius, could have produced. 
 That one most beautiful line: 
 
 •' \Miat satisfaction canst thou have to-night ?" 
 
 uttered, as it is, in the simplest innocence, and 
 answered, as it is, without the slightest taint 
 of licentiousness, is the key to this most per- 
 fect scene. 
 
 How skilful is the contrast of the Nurse's 
 sordid and impure nature, of Mercutio's scoflf- 
 ing cynicism, with the fragrant innocence of 
 Juliet, and the romantic enthusiasm of her 
 lover! In the scene with the Friar, when 
 Eomeo, like a spoilt child, throws himself on 
 the ground in a paroxysm of thwarted self- 
 indulgence, he is at his woist ; but note how 
 botli his and Juliet's natures are purified and 
 strengthened by adversity. As the tragic 
 gloom of the play deepens, the spoilt child 
 becomes a resolute man ; Juliet, who, at one 
 moment perhaps, has been in danger of yield- 
 183
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ing to the overpowering force of her passion, 
 becomes a self-contained and heroic woman. 
 She does not scruple to face death rather than 
 the dishonour of being unfaithful to her exiled 
 hu-sband. The terror, with which lier almost 
 brutal parents inspire her, is powerless in 
 face of her deep and loyal love. He too when 
 he finds, as he believes, that Death has 
 snatched his bride from him, witli fierce de- 
 termination arms himself with the merciless 
 ])oison; and goes to take his last farewell of 
 the body of his love, to whom the same Death 
 that had stolen her from him shall soon re- 
 unite him. 
 
 It may be said that this is the first of 
 Shakespeare's plays in which his genius really 
 asserts itself. As a master-piece of comic 
 characterization, of subtle humour, and of 
 deej) insight into human nature, the Nurse 
 may almost rank, side by side, with Falstaff. 
 Mercutio, again, is such a marvellous creation 
 of high comedy, that Shakesjieare is said to 
 have killed him off, lest he, liy his attractive 
 vivacity, should have, morally speaking, killed 
 the hero. None of the characters, even slight 
 sketches as some of them may be, can be said 
 to be uninteresting. All the very best fea- 
 tures of di'amatic composition and poetr}' are 
 to be found in this play. The interest is ab- 
 sorbing; the pathos most deeply touching; 
 Avhile the humorous element, never too pro- 
 minent, affords that contrast so essential to a 
 really great drama. The character of Friar 
 Lawrence is well worthy study. Shakespeare 
 has thoroughly entered into the affectionate 
 I'elations which existed between a young man, 
 like Romeo, and his spiritual director. Few 
 Enghsh actors of Romeo have succeeded in 
 grasping the idea, of such a relationship; and 
 therefore fail in conveying that mixture of filial 
 love, and implicit reliance on his advice, which 
 184 
 
 marks Romeo's attitude towards the Friar. 
 Nothing proves more strongly Shakespeare's 
 immense mental superiority than liis utter 
 freedom from bigotry, in an age when writers, 
 otherwise liberal-minded, thought that, no 
 opportunity should be missed of abusing the 
 Roman ( Catholic religion and everything con- 
 nected with it. Fortunate, indeed, for pos- 
 terity is it that Shakespeare could make use of 
 Brooke's poem, without being contaminated by 
 the narrow-minded virulence which distin- ' 
 guishes the latter'a "address to the reader."* 
 Had Shakespeare written his tragedy in the 
 spirit of these high-minded obsei'vations, I 
 fear we should have had a veiy different 
 work, and a worse than indifferent dramatic 
 poem. 
 
 There is little throughout this i)lay that is 
 sujierficial. It would jje easy to select detached 
 scenes, the language of which would liave 
 made the reputation and fortune of any dra- 
 matist. What faults the play has I have 
 ventured fearlessly to point out. It is quite 
 po.ssible to recognize them in the fulness of 
 their imperfection, without lessening one jot 
 of that heart-stirring admiration, which this 
 beautiful work must always excite in those 
 who are not dead to the noblest passions of 
 our nature, or blind to the greatest beauties 
 poetry can create. 
 
 1 "And to this einle (good Reader) is this tragicall mat- 
 ter written, to dest lilie vnto thee a coople of vnfortunate 
 louers, thralling themselves to vnhonest desire, neglect- 
 ing the authoi-itie and aduise of parents and frendes, 
 conferring their principall connsels with dronken gos- 
 syppes, and snperslitions friers (the naturally fltte instrii- 
 mentesof unchastitie)atteniptyng alladuenturesof perjll, 
 for thattaynyng of their wished lust, vsyng auriculer 
 confession (the kay of whoredonie, and treason) for fiir- 
 theraunce of theyr purpose, abusyng the honorable name 
 of lawefuU mai'iage, to cloke the shame of stolne con- 
 traetes, fmallye, by all ineanes of vuhonest lyfe, hastyng 
 to most vnhapjiye deathe."
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET, 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Two households, both alike in dignity, 
 
 In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
 From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. 
 
 Where civil blood makes civil hands iniclean. 
 From forth the fatal loins of these two foes 
 
 A jjair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; 
 Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows 
 
 Do, with their death, bury their parents' 
 strife. 
 
 The fearful passage of their death -mark'd 
 love. 
 And the continuance of their jiarents' rage, 
 Which, but their children's end, nought could 
 remove. 
 Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; 
 The which if you with i)atient ears attend. 
 What here shall miss, oui' toil shall strive to 
 mend. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. Vfroixr. T/ie market p^'if'C- 
 
 Enter Sampson and Gregory, of the house of 
 Capulet^ armed with swords and bucklers. 
 
 Sam. Gregory, o' my word, we '11 not carry 
 coals.^ 
 
 G?-e. No, for then we should be colliers. 
 Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we '11 
 draw. 
 
 1 Will not carry coals, will not bear injuries. I 
 
 Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck 
 out o' the collar. 
 
 Sam. I strike quickly, being mov'd. 
 
 O're. But thou art not quickly mov'd to 
 
 strike. 
 Sam. A dog of the house of Montague moves 
 me. 10 
 
 G're. FTo move is to stir; and to be valiant,' 
 is to stand : therefore, if thou art moved, thou / 
 runn'st away. < 
 
 Sam. A dog of that house shall move me to i 
 185
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT 1. Scene 1. 
 
 'stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid 
 ^of Montague's. 
 
 \ Gre. That shows thee a weak slave; for the 
 '' weakest goes to the wall. is 
 
 ^ Sam. True ; and therefore women, being 
 ^the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall: 
 
 therefore I will push Montague's men from 
 the wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. 
 
 O're. The cjuarrel is between our mastere 
 
 and us their men. -i 
 
 Sam. 'Tis all one, I will show myself a 
 
 i tyrant: w^hen I have fought with the men, 1 
 
 Ahr. 1)0 vou bite voiir thumb at us, sir? 
 
 will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their 
 heads. 
 
 Gre. The heads of the maids? •>'.) 
 
 Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their 
 maidenheads ; take it in what sense thou wult. 
 
 Gre. They must take it in sense that feel it. 
 
 Sam. Me they shall feel while I am able to 
 stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of 
 flesh. 
 
 Gre. 'T is well thou art not fish ; if thou 
 hadst, thou hadst been poor John.^ Draw thy 
 tool;] here comes two of tlie house of the 
 Montagues. 
 
 Sam. My naked weai)on is out: quarrel, I 
 will back thee. 40 
 
 1 Poor John, hake fish, dried and salted. 
 186 
 
 (ire. How^ turn thy back, and run? 
 
 Sum. Fear me not. 
 
 Gre. No, marry : — I fear thee ! 
 
 Sam. Let us take the law of our sides; let 
 them begin. 
 
 Gre. I will frown, as I pa.ss by, and let them 
 take it as they list. 
 
 Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my 
 thumb at them; which is a disgrace to them, 
 if they bear it. 50 
 
 Enter Abraham and Balthasar. 
 
 Ahr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 
 
 Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 Ahr. Do you bite your thumb at uc, sir?
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 Sam. [Jsi'c/e to Gregory\ Is the law of our 
 side, if I say ay? 54 
 
 Grc. \^Aside to Sampson] No. 
 
 Sam. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at 
 you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. 
 
 Gre. Do you quarrel, sir? 
 
 Abi\ Quarrel, sir-? no, sir. go 
 
 Sam. If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve 
 as good a man as you. 
 
 Abr. No better. 
 
 Satn. Well, sir. 
 
 Gre. Say — better [Aside to Sampson, seeing 
 Tifhalt at a distance] ; here comes one of my 
 master's kinsmen. 
 
 Sam. Yes, better, sir. 
 
 Abr. You lie. 
 
 Enter Benvolio. 
 
 Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregory, re- 
 member thy swashing' blow. YThey jigJit. 70 
 
 Ben. Part, fools! 
 Put up youi' swords; you know not what you 
 do. [Beats down their weapons. 
 
 Enter Tybalt. 
 
 Tijb. What, art thou drawn among these 
 heartless hinds? 
 Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. 
 
 ^e«. Idobut keej^thejjeace; put upthysword. 
 Or manage it to part these men with me. 
 Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I 
 hate the word, 
 As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: 
 Have at thee, coward I [They fight. 
 
 Enter several persons of both houses, u'ho join 
 the fray: then enter Citizens and Peace 
 Ofiicers mtli clubs and partisans. 
 
 First Cit. Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! 
 beat them down! so 
 
 Down with the Capulets ! down with the Mon- 
 tagues ! 
 
 Enter Capulet in his gown, and Lady 
 Capulet. 
 
 Cap. What noise is this ? Give me my long 
 sword, ho! 
 
 1 Swashing, making a loud noise against the shield— 
 stronK, violent. 
 
 La. Cap. A crutch, a crutch! why call you 
 for a sword ? S3 
 
 Cap. My sword, I say! — Old Montague is 
 come. 
 And flourishes his blade in spite of me. 
 
 Enter Montague and IjAdy Montague. 
 
 Hon. Thou villain Capulet, — Hold me not, 
 
 let me go. 
 La. Jfon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to 
 
 seek a foe. 
 
 Enter Pri>X'E, with his train. 
 
 Prin. Eebellious subjects, enemies to peace, 
 Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel, — 
 [] Will they not hear ? — What, ho ! you men, 
 you beasts, so 
 
 That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 
 With purple fountains issuing from youri; 
 
 veins, — ] 
 On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 
 Throw your mi.stemjjer'd wea])ons to the 
 
 gi'ound, 
 And hear the sentence of your moved piince. 
 Three civil bi'awls, bred of an airy word, 
 By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, 
 Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets. 
 And made Verona's ancient citizens 
 Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, lOO 
 To wield old partisans, in hands as old, 
 Canker'd with peace, to i)art your canker'd 
 
 hate : 
 If ever you disturb our streets again. 
 Your lives shall pay the f oifeit of the peace. — 
 For this time, all the lest dejiart away : — 
 You, Capulet, shall go along with me ; 
 And, Montague, come you this afternoon. 
 To know our fui'ther j)leasure in this case. 
 To old Free -town, our common judgment- 
 place. 109 
 Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 
 [Exeiint all but Montague, Lady 
 Montague, and Benvolio. 
 Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new 
 abroach? 
 Speak, nejihew, were you by, when it began ? 
 Ben. Here were the servants of your ad- 
 versary. 
 And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: 
 187
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 I drew to part them ; in the instant came ii 5 
 The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd, 
 Q AVhich, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, 
 ' He swnng about his head, and cut the winds. 
 Who, nothinsr hurt withal, hiss'd him in 
 
 scorn : ] 
 While we were interchanging thrusts and 
 blows, 120 
 
 CJame more and more, and fought on part and 
 
 part, 
 Till the prince came, who parted^ either part. 
 La. Mon. 01 where is Romeo? saw you him 
 to-day ? 
 Right glad I am, he was not at this fray. 
 Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshii)p'd 
 sun 
 Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, 
 A troubled mind flrave me to walk abroad; 
 Where, underneath the gi-ove of sycamore. 
 That westward rooteth from the city's side, 
 So early walking did I see your son: 130 
 
 Towards him I made; biTt he was ware of me, 
 Aiid stole into the covert of the wood : 
 ^I^I, measuring his affections by my own, 
 •JThat most are lju.sie(l when they're most 
 
 alone, 
 Pursu'd my humour not pursuing his. 
 And gladly .shuun'd who gladly fled from me. ] 
 Mo)i. Many a morning hath he there been 
 seen, 
 With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, 
 Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep 
 
 .sighs: 
 QBut all so soon as the all-cheering sun no 
 Should, in the furthest east, begin to draw 
 ( The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, 
 ' Away from light steals home my heavy son, 
 ';And private in his chamljer pens himself; 
 ^ Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out, 
 (And makes himself an artificial night: ] 
 Black and portentous must this humom' prove, 
 Unless good counsel may the cause remove. 
 Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the 
 
 cause ? 
 Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of 
 him. loO 
 
 Ben. Have you importun'd him by any 
 
 means 1 
 Mon. Both l)y myself, and many other 
 friends: 
 
 188 
 
 QBut he, his own affections' counsellor, 153- 
 Is to himself — I will not .say how true — 
 But to himself so seci-et and so close. 
 So far from sounding and discovery. 
 As is the bud bit with an envious worm, 
 Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, ^ 
 Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. ^ 
 
 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows \ 
 grow, IGO ;. 
 
 We would as willingly give cure as know. J { 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Ben. See, where he comes. So please you, 
 step aside; 
 I '11 know his grievance, or be much deni'd. 
 Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy 
 stay, 
 To heiU' true shrift. Come, madam, let 's away. 
 [^Exeunt 2Iontague and Lady Montague. 
 Ben. Good morrow, cousin. 
 Rom. Is the day so young? 
 
 Ben. But new struck nine. 
 Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long. 
 
 Was that my father that went hence so fast? 
 Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Ro- 
 meo's hours? 
 Rom. Not having that, which, having, makes 
 them short. ITO 
 
 Ben. In love? 
 Rom. Out — 
 Ben. Of love? 
 
 Jtom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. 
 Ben. Aliis, that love, so gentle in his view, 
 Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof ! 
 Rom. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled 
 still. 
 Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! 
 Where shall we dine ? — O me ! — What fray was 
 
 here? 
 Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. iso 
 Here 's much to do with hate, but more with 
 
 love. 
 Why, then, O brawling love ! O loving hate ! 
 O any thing, of nothing tir-st create ! 
 O hea\'y' lightness ! serious vanity ! 
 ]Sris-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! 
 Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick 
 
 health! 
 Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is !
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT r. Scene 1. 
 
 This love feel I, that feel no love in this. 
 Dost thou not laugh ? 
 
 Ben. No, coz, I rather weep, iso 
 
 Horn. Good heart, at what l 
 Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. 
 
 Horn. Why, such, Beuvolio, is love's trans- 
 gression. 
 Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; 
 Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest 
 With more of thine; this love that thou hast 
 
 shown 
 Doth add more gi^ief to too much of mine own. 
 - ''^QLove is a smoke rais'd with the fume of 
 
 / sighs; 
 I ( Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes ; 
 \ Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears : 
 /what is it else? a madness most discreet, 
 I'' A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. ] 200 
 \ Farewell, my coz. 
 
 Ben. Soft I I will go along; 
 
 An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. 
 Rom. Tut, I have lost myself ; I am not 
 here ; 
 This is not Romeo, he 's some other where. 
 Ben. Tell me in sadness,^ who 'tis that you 
 love. 
 ' Rom. QWhat, shall I groan and tell thee? 
 
 Ben. Groan! why, no; 
 
 But sadly tell me who. 
 
 Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his 
 ^ will : 
 
 "^ Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill I ] 
 In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 210 
 Ben. I aim'd so near, when I suppos'd you 
 
 lov'd. 
 Rom. A right good mark-man I And she 's 
 
 fair I love. 
 Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest 
 
 hit. 
 Rom. Well, in that hit, you miss: she'll 
 not be hit 
 With Cupid's arrow ; she hath Dian's wit ; 
 And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd. 
 From love's weak childish bow she lives mi- 
 
 harm'd. 
 Q She will not stay the siege of loving terms, 
 J Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, 
 ( Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : ] 220 
 
 1 In sadness, seriously. 
 
 O, she is rich in beauty; only poor, 221 
 
 That, when she dies, with her dies beauty's 
 store. 
 \^Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will 
 
 still live chaste? 
 Jiom. She hath, and in that sjiaring makes , 
 huge waste ; 
 For beauty, starv'd with her severity, c 
 
 
 Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. 
 
 Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 
 
 She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair. 
 
 To merit bliss by making me des^mir : ; 
 
 She hath forsworn to love ; and in that vow : 
 
 Do I live dead that live to tell it now. ] 230 ; 
 
 Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to think of her. 
 
 Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to 
 think. 
 
 Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes ; 
 Examine other beauties. 
 
 Ro?n. 'T is the way 
 
 189
 
 ACT 1. Scene I. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 To call hers, exquisite, in question* more : -isr, 
 These happy masks, that kiss fair ladies' brows, 
 Being black, i)ut us in mind they hide the 
 
 fair ; 
 He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget 
 The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. 
 Show me a mistress that is passing fair, 240 
 What doth her beauty serve, but as a note 
 Where I may read who pass'd that jiassing 
 
 fair? 
 Farewell ; thou canst not teach me to forget. 
 Ben. I '11 pay that doctrine,- or else die in 
 
 debt. [Kveiint. 
 
 Scene II. A street. 
 Filter Capulet, Paris, and Servant. 
 
 Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, 
 In penalty alike ; and 't is not hard, I think. 
 For men so old as we to keep the peace. 
 
 Par. Of honourable reckoning'' are you both; 
 And pity 't is you liv'd at odds so long. 
 But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? 
 
 Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: 
 My child is yet a stranger in the world ; 
 She hath not seen the change of fourteen years ; 
 Let two more summers wither in their pride, 
 Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride, ii 
 
 Par. Younger than she are happy mothei's 
 made. 
 
 Cap. And too soon mair'tl are those so early 
 made. 
 The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but 
 
 she. 
 She is the hopeful lady of my earth : 
 But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart. 
 My will to her consent is but a part ; 
 iQ An she agree, within her scope of choice 
 , Lies my consent and fair according voice. 3 
 This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, 20 
 Whereto I have invited many a guest, 
 Such as I love ; and you, among the store, 
 One more, most welcome, makes my number 
 
 more. 
 Q At my poor house, look to behold this night 
 
 1 To call in question, to call into remembrance ; to 
 make the subject of conversation. 
 - 1 'II pail that doctrine, i.e. I '11 give that teaching. 
 ^ Reckoning, estimation. 
 
 190 
 
 Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven 
 
 light : 25 
 
 Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel 
 When well-apparell'd April on the heel 
 Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
 Among fresh female buds shall you this night ^ 
 Inherit* at my house ; hear all, all see, 30^ 
 
 And like her most whose merit most shall be:^ 
 Which,^ on more view, of many mine,*' being' 
 
 one, ^ '( 
 
 May stand in number, though in reckoning, 
 
 none. ] 
 Come, go with me. — 
 
 [To Servant., giving a paper] 
 
 Go, sirrah, trudge about 
 
 Through fair Verona ; find those persons out 
 
 Whose names are written there, and to them 
 
 say. 
 My house and welcome on their pleasure .stay. 
 [^E.veunt Capulet aiul Paris. 
 Serv. Find them out, whose names are 
 written here ! Q It is written, that the shoe- ; 
 maker should meddle with his yard, and the ^ 
 tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, 
 and the painter with his nets ; but ] I am sent . 
 to find those persons whose names are here 
 writ, and can never find what names the wi'it- 
 ing j^erson hath here writ. 1 must to the 
 learned. — In good time. 
 
 Enter Benvolio and Romeo. 
 
 Ben. Tut, man ! one fire burns out another's 
 burning, 
 ^Oufi^jain is lessen^l by^aiiother's anguish ; 
 Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; 
 One desperate grief cures with another's 
 languish : 
 Take thou some new infection to thy eye, oo 
 And the rank poison of the old will die. 
 liom. Yoar plaintain-leaf is excellent forthat. 
 Ben. For what, I ja'ay thee ? 
 Bom. For your broken shin. 
 
 Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? 
 Bom. Not mad ^ but b ound more tha nji 
 madman is ; 
 Shut up in prison, kept wi thout my food ^ 
 
 * Inherit, possess. 
 
 5 Which, i.e. the one of most merit. 
 
 « Mine, my daughter.
 
 ACT I. Sceue 2. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 3. 
 
 Whipp'd and tormented, and — Good-den,^ 
 " good fellow. 
 
 Serv. God gi'^ good-den. I pray, sir, can 
 you read ? 59 
 
 Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 
 
 Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without 
 book : but, I i)ray, can you read any thing you 
 see I 
 
 Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the 
 language. 
 
 Serv. Ye say honestly; rest you merry ! 
 
 Rom. Stay, fellow ; I can read. {Reach. 
 
 " Signior Martino, and his wife and daughters ; 
 County Anselmo, and his beauteous sisters ; 
 The lady widow of Vitruvio ; 
 Signior Placentio, and his lovely nieces ; 
 Mercutio, and his brother Valentine; 
 Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters ; 
 My fair niece Rosaline ; and Livia ; 
 Signior Valentio, and his cousin Tybalt ; 
 Lucio, and the lively Helena." [O'ii-ing bad the paper. 
 A fair assembly ; whither should they come ? 
 
 Serv. Up. 
 
 Rom. Whither? 
 
 Serv. To supper ; to our house. 
 
 Rom. Whose house? 
 
 Serv. My mastei's. so 
 
 Rom. Indeed, I should have ask'd you that 
 before. 
 
 Serv. Now I'U tell you without asking: 
 my master is the great rich Capulet ; and if 
 you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, 
 come and crush a cup of wine. Eest you 
 merry I {Exit. 
 
 Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's 
 Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lov'st, 
 With all th' admired beauties of Yerona. 
 Go thither ; and, with unattainted eye, 90 
 
 Compare her face with some that I shall show, 
 And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. 
 RomPWhen the devout religion of mine eye 
 
 Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears 
 to fire I 
 And these,^ — who, often di'own'd, could never 
 die, — 
 
 Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars I 
 One fairer than my love ! the all-seeins- sun 
 Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. / 
 
 1 Good-den, good evening. 
 
 2 And these, i.e. his eyes. 
 
 God gi', God give ye. 
 
 Ben. Tut, you saw her fair, none else being 
 
 by, 
 
 Herself pois'd with herself in either eye: loi 
 But in that crystal scales, let there be weigh'd 
 Your lady-love against some other maid 
 That I will show' you, shining at this feast, 
 And she shall scant show well, that now shows 
 best. 
 Rom. I '11 go along, no such sight to be 
 .shown. 
 But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. 
 
 [E.veunt. 
 
 Scene III. A room in Capulet's house. 
 Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. 
 
 La. Cap. Nurse, where 's my daughter ? call 
 
 her forth to me. 
 
 Xurse. Q Now, by my maideidiead at twelve ; 
 
 years old, / 
 
 I bade her come. What, Iambi what, lady-^ 
 
 bii-d I ) 
 
 God forbid 1 ] Where 's this girl ? What, , 
 
 Juliet ! 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Jul. How now ! who calls ] 
 
 Xurse. Your mother. 
 
 Jul. Madam, I am here. What is your 
 wiU? 
 
 La. Cap. This is the matter : — Nurse, give 
 leave awhile, we must talk in secret : — Nurse, 
 come back again ; I have remember'd me, thou 
 shalt hear our counsel. Thou know'st my 
 daughter 's of a pretty age. lo 
 
 Niirse. Faith, I can tell hei- age luito an hour. 
 
 Q La. Cap. She "s not fourteen. 
 
 Nurse. I '11 lay fourteen of my teeth, — and ' 
 yet, to my teen* be it spoken, I have but four, ^ 
 — she is not fourteen. ] How long is it now ' 
 to Lammas-tide?* 
 
 La. Cap. A fortnight and odd days. 
 
 Nurse. QEven or odd, of all days in the/ 
 year, come Lammas-eve at night shall she be^ 
 fourteen.] Susan and she — God rest ally 
 Chi'istian souls I — were of an age : well, Susan 
 is with God ; she was too good for me: — Qbut, 
 
 ■* To my teen, to my sorrow. 
 5 Lammas-tide, the first of August. 
 191
 
 ACT I. Scene ;i. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 as I said, on Lamiu;is-eve at night shall she 
 f be fourteen ; that shall she, marry ; I remem- 
 ber it well. 'T is since the earthquake now 
 eleven years ; and she was wean'd, — I never 
 shall forget it, — of all the days of the year, 
 ■- upon that day : for I had then laid wormwood 
 
 to my ilug, ] sitting in the sun under the 
 dove-house wall ; my lord and you were then 
 at Mantua: — ^nay^ I do bear a brain:' — but,; 
 as I said, when it did taste the wormwood on ; 
 the nipple of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty ( 
 fool, to see it tetchy,- and fall out with the^' 
 
 dug 1 " Shake," quoth the dove-house : 't was 
 no need, I trow, to bid me trudge : ] and since 
 that time it is eleven years ; for then she could 
 stand high-lone ; ^ nay, by the rood, she could 
 have run and waddled all about ; for even the 
 day before, she broke her brow : Q and then 
 my husband — God be with his soul I a' was a 
 merry man — took up the child : " Yea," quoth 
 he, "dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou 
 wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit ; 
 wilt thou not, Jule?" and, by my holy-dam, 
 the pretty wretch left crying, and said "Ay." 
 To see, now, how a jest shall come about I I 
 
 3 HUjh-lone. quite alone. 
 192 
 
 warrant, an I should live a thousand years, I 
 never should forget it : "Wilt thou not, Jule?"/ 
 quoth he ; and, pretty fool, it stinted * and 
 said "Ay." 3 48 
 
 La. Cap. Enough of this ; 1 pray thee, hold 
 thy peace. 
 
 Nurxe. Yes, madam ; — [] yet I cannot choose i 
 but laugh, to think it should leave crying, and I 
 say "Ay." And yet, I warrant, it had upon> 
 its brow a bump as big as a young cockerel's) 
 stone ; a parlous knock ; and it cried bitterly : 
 " Yea," quoth my hual)and, " fall'st thou upon 
 thy face ? Thou wilt fall backward when , 
 
 1 Bear a brain, I have a perfect remembrance. 
 
 ••2 Tetchy, ill-tempereil. •• Stinted, stopped crying.
 
 ACT 1. Scene 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 ; thou com'st to age ; wilt thou not, Jule I " it 
 
 > stinted, and said "Ay." 5S 
 i Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, 
 
 > say I. 
 
 > Xicrse. Peace, I have done. God mark 
 ) thee to his grace I ] Thou wast the jJrettiest 
 
 babe that e'er I nurs'd : an I might live to 
 see thee mai'ried once, I have my wish. 
 
 La. Cap. Marry, that " marry '' is the very 
 theme 
 I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, 
 How stands your disjjosition to be married I 
 Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. 
 I } J^ Xurse. An honour ! were not I thine only 
 \ ) nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom 
 i from thy teat. ] 
 
 La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now ; 
 younger than you. 
 Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, ro 
 
 Are made already mothers : by my count, 
 I was your mother much upon these years 
 That you are now a maid. Thus then in 
 
 brief ; — 
 The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. 
 
 Xurse. A man, young lady ! lady, such a 
 man as all the world — why, he 's a man of 
 wax.^ 
 
 La. Cap. Verona's summer hath not such a 
 
 flower. 
 Nurse. Nay, he 's a flower ; in faith, a very 
 
 flower. 
 La. Cap. "What say you? can you love the 
 gentleman ? V9 
 
 This night you shall behold him at om' feast ; 
 Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, 
 And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; 
 Examine every married lineament, 
 And see how one another ^ lends content, 
 And what obscm-'d in this fair volume lies. 
 Find written in the margent of his eyes. 
 TThis jirecious book of love, this unbound 
 
 < lover, 
 
 < To beautify him, only lacks a cover : 
 
 ^The fish lives in the sea; and 'tis much pride 
 ^For fair without the fair within to hide : 90 
 |!That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, 
 'That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ; 
 
 1 A man of wax, i.e. a well-formed, well-modelled man. 
 
 2 One another, one to the other. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 So shall you share all that he doth possess, ' 
 By having him, making yoiu-self no less. 94 ', 
 Xurse. No less I nay, bigger ; women gi'ow 
 by men. - 
 
 La. Cap. ] Speak briefly, can you like of 
 Paris' love? 
 \ Jul. I '11 look to like, if looking liking move : 
 ^ But no more deep will I endart mine eye, 
 (Than your consent gives strength to make it 
 V fly. 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 
 Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper 
 served up, you called, my yovmg lady ask'd 
 for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and every 
 thing in extremity. I must hence to wait ; I 
 beseech you, follow straight. 
 
 La. Cap. "We follow thee. \^Exit Servant. 
 Juliet, the county stays. 
 
 Xurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to hajapy 
 
 days. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. A street. 
 
 Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Bexvolio, with five 
 or si.v Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others. 
 
 Bom. "What, shall this speech be spoke for 
 our excuse ? 
 Or shall we on without apology? 
 
 Ben. The date is out of such prolixity : 
 QWe'U have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a 
 
 scarf. 
 Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath. 
 Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper ; ^ 
 Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke 
 After the prompter, for our entrance : * 
 But let them measure us by what they will ; ] 
 "We '11 measm'e them a measure,^ and be gone. 
 Bom. Give me a torch, — I am not for this 
 ambling ; n 
 
 Being but heavy, I will bear the light. 
 
 Jler. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have 
 
 you dance. 
 Bo7n. Not I, believe me : you have dancing 
 shoes 
 "With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead, 
 
 3 Croic-Ieeeper, scarecrow. 
 
 * ?^ntrance, pronounce as cn-ier-ance. 
 
 5 Measure, dance. 
 
 193 
 
 13
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 4. 
 
 "^^o stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. 
 Mer. You are a lover ; borrow Cupid's wings, 
 And soar with them above a common bound. 
 Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his 
 shaft, I'.* 
 
 To soar with his light feathers ; and so bountl, 
 I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe : 
 Under love's heavy burden do I sink. 
 ? Mer. Q And, to sink in it, should you burden 
 / love ; 
 
 ( Too great oppression for a tender thing. 
 /'( Rom. Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, 
 VToo rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like 
 t^ thorn. 
 
 ^ 3fc'r. If love be rough with you, be rough 
 ^ with love ; 
 
 ■.Prick love for pricking, and you beat love 
 ^ down. — ] 
 
 Give me a case to put my visage in : 
 A visor for a visor I^what care I 30 
 
 What curious eye doth quote^ defonnities? 
 Here are the beetle brows shall blu.sh for me. 
 Hen. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner 
 in. 
 But every man betake him to his legs. 
 
 Bom. A torch for me: let wantons, light of 
 heart, 
 Tickle the senseless rushes- with their heels, 
 For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, — 
 I '11 be a candle-holder, and look on. 
 ; QThe game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. ^ 
 / Mer. ^ Tut, dun "s the mouse, the constable's 
 / own word: 40 
 
 < If thou ail dun, we '11 draw thee from the 
 ' mire 
 
 ( Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st 
 ( Ujj to the ears. —"2 Come, we burn daylight, 
 ho! 
 Horn. Nay, that 's not so. 
 Me7: I mean, sir, in delay 
 
 We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. 
 Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits 
 Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. 
 Itom. And we mean well in going to this 
 mask; 
 But 't is no wit to go. 
 
 Mer. 'V^^ly, may one ask ? 
 
 1 Quote, observe. 
 
 s Rushes, the rushes with which the floor was strewed. 
 194 
 
 Rom. I dream'il a dream to-night. 
 
 Mer. And so did I. 50 
 
 Rom. Well, what was yours ( 
 
 Mer. That dreamers often lie. 
 
 Rom. In bed, asleej), while they do dream 
 
 things true. 
 Mer. O, then, I see, Queen Mab hath been 
 
 with you. 
 She is the fairies' midwife; and she ct)mes 
 In sha])e no bigger than an agate-stone 
 On the fore-finger of an alderman. 
 Drawn with a team of little atomies^ 
 Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep: 
 Herwaggon-sj)okes made of long spinners' legs; 
 The cover, of the wings of grasshopjiers; oo 
 The traces, of the smallest spider's web; 
 The collars, of the moon.shine's watery beams: 
 Her whip of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: 
 Her waggoner, a small gray-coated gnat, 
 Not half so big as a round little worm 
 Prick 'd from the lazy finger of a maid: 
 Her chariot is an emjjty hazel-nut: 
 ]\Lide by the joiner squirrel, or uld grub, 
 Time out o' mind the fairies' coach-makers. 
 And in this state she gallops night by night to 
 Through lovers' brains, and then they dream 
 
 of love ; 
 O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies 
 
 straight. 
 O'er lawyers' fingei's, who straight dream on 
 
 fees, 
 O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream. 
 Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues. 
 Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted 
 
 are: 
 Sometime she galloi)s o'er a courtier's nose. 
 And then dreams he of smelling out a suit: 
 And sometime comes she with a tithe-jng's 
 
 tail. 
 Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, so 
 Then dreams he of another benefice. 
 Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck. 
 And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
 Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades. 
 Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon 
 I )rums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes; 
 And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or 
 
 two, 
 
 s Atomies, atoms.

 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 And sleeps again. This is that very Mab 
 <^QThat plats the manes of horses in the night, 
 ' And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, 90 
 < Which once untangled much misfortune bodes: 
 ^ This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, 
 ^That presses them and learns them first to 
 
 bear. 
 
 ^Making them women of good carriage: 
 ' This is she ] — 
 
 Ito)n. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! 
 
 Thou talk'st of nothing. 
 
 J/er. True, I talk of dreams; 
 
 Which are the children of an idle brain, 
 Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; 
 Which is as thin of substance as the air. 
 And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
 Even now the frozen bosom of the north, loi 
 And, being anger'd, jjuffs away from thence, 
 Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 
 
 Ben. This wind, you talk of, blows us from 
 ourselves; 
 Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 
 
 Jiom. I fear, too early; for my mind mis- 
 gives. 
 Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars 
 Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
 With this night's revels; and expire the term 
 Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, no 
 
 By some vile forfeit of untimely death. 
 But He, that hath the steerage of my course, 
 Direct my sail! — On, lusty gentlemen! 
 
 Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScEXE V. A hall in Capulefs house. 
 
 Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen, with 
 napkins. 
 
 ) Q First Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps 
 ;;not to take away? He shift a trencher! he 
 
 scrape a trencher ! 
 
 Sec. Sen: When good manners shall lie all 
 
 in one or two men's hands, and they un- 
 \ wash'd too, 't is a foul thing. 
 S First Serv. Away with the joint-stools, re- 
 ^move the court-cupboard,^ look to the plate. 
 -Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane ;- 
 
 1 Court-ctipboard, a movable sideboard ou which plate 
 was displayed. 
 
 - Marchpane, a sweet cake, made of almonds, like a 
 macaroon. 
 
 and, as thou lovest me, let the porter let in J 
 
 Susan Grindstone and Nell. Antony Pot-^ 
 
 pan ! 11 ^ 
 
 Sec. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. ;> 
 
 First Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ' 
 
 ask'd for and sought for, in the great cham- \ 
 
 ber. ') 
 
 Sec. Serv. We cannot l)e here and there too. > 
 
 — Cheerly, boys ; be brisk awhile, and the ; 
 
 longer liver take all. 3 ' 
 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Juliet, Ty- 
 balt, and others of his house, meeting the 
 Guests and Maskers. 
 
 Cajj. Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have 
 
 their toes 
 Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with 
 
 you : — 
 Ah, ha, my mistresses! which of you all 20- 
 Will now deny to dance? she that makes 
 
 dainty, 
 I '11 swear, hath corns ; am I come near ye now '. 
 Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day 
 That I have worn a visor, and could tell 
 A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, 
 Such as would please; — 't is gone, 'tis gone, 'ti.s. 
 
 gone : 
 
 Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Bena'olio, and 
 others. 
 
 You ai'e welcome, gentlemen! Come, musi- 
 cians, play. 
 A hall ! a hall ! give room, and foot it, girls. 
 
 [Music 2Jf('i/s, and they dance.. 
 More light, ye knaves; and turn the tables up. 
 And quench the fire, the room is gi'own too 
 hot. — • 30 
 
 Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well- 
 Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet ; 
 For you and I are past our dancing days: 
 How long is 't now, since last yourself and I 
 Were in a mask ? 
 
 Sec. Cap. By 'r lady, thirty years. 
 
 Cap. What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not 
 so much: 
 'T is since the nuptial of Lucentio, 
 Come pentecost as quickly as it will, 
 Some five and twenty years ; and then we- 
 mask'd. 
 
 195
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 Sec. Cap. 'T is luore, 't is more : his son is 
 elder, sir; 40 
 
 His son is thirty. 
 
 Cap. Will you tell me that? 
 
 His son was but a ward two years ago. 
 
 Jiom. [ To a Serving ma ii\ "What lady 's that, 
 which doth enrich the hand 
 Of yonder knight ? 
 
 Scrv. I know not, sir. 
 
 Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn 
 bright ! 
 It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night 
 Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; 
 Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
 So shows a snowy dove troojjing with crows, 50 
 As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 
 The measure done, I "11 watch her place of 
 
 stand. 
 And, touching hers, make blessed my rude 
 
 hand. 
 Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! 
 For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 
 
 Tyh. This, by his voice, should be a Mon- 
 tague: — 
 Fetch me my rapier, boy: — "SVhatl dares the 
 
 slave 
 Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,* 
 To fleer and scorn at our solemnity 1 
 Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, co 
 To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 
 
 Cap. Wliy, how now, kinsman? wherefore 
 storm you so? 
 
 Ti/h. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, 
 A villain, that is hither come in spite, 
 To scorn at our solemnity this night. 
 
 Cap. Young Romeo is't? 
 
 Tyb. 'T is he, that villain Eomeo. 
 
 Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; 
 He bears him like a portly^ gentleman; 
 And, to say truth, Verona brags of him 
 To be a virtuous and well govern'd youth: 70 
 I would not for the wealth of all the town, 
 Here in my house, do him disparagement: 
 Therefore be patient, take no note of him, — 
 It is my will; the which if thou respect. 
 Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns. 
 An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. 
 
 1 Antic face, referring to the mask Romeo wears. 
 
 2 Portly, dignified, well-bred. 
 
 196 
 
 Ti/h. It tits, when such a villain is a guest; 
 I "11 not endure him. 
 
 Cap. He shall be endur'd; 
 
 What! goodman boyi — I say, he shall: — go to; 
 Am I the master hei'e, or you ? go to. 80 
 
 You '11 not endure him! Q God shall mend my i 
 soul, ; 
 
 You '11 make a nuitiny among -my guests! ) 
 You will set cock-a-hoop ! ■* you '11 be the man ! ) 
 Ti/h. Why, uncle, 't is a shame — / 
 
 Caj). Go to, go to ; ] J 
 
 You ai'e a saucy boy: [To one of the giiests 
 
 who u'/tispjers him] is 't so, indeed? 
 [To Tybalt] This trick may chance to scathe 
 
 you,- — I know what: 
 You nmst contrary me! marry, 't is time. 
 [To 6'«c*V*-] Well said, my hearts ! [To Tybalt] 
 
 You are a princox:* go: 
 Be quiet, or — More light, more light! For 
 
 shame ! 
 
 I '11 make you quiet. [To O'uesti] What ! — 
 
 cheerly, my hearts ! oo 
 
 Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler 
 
 meeting 
 
 Makes my flesh tremble in their difl'ereut 
 
 greeting. 
 I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall 
 Now seeming sweet ^ convert to bitter gall. 
 
 [Esit. 
 Rom. [To Juliet] If I profane with my un- 
 worthiest hand 
 This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: 
 My lips, two blushing jnlgrims, ready stand 
 To smooth that rough touch with a tentler 
 kiss. 
 Jul. Good pilgiim, you do wroiig youi- hand 
 too much. 
 Which mannerly devotion shows in this; lOO 
 For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do 
 touch. 
 And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 
 Rom. Have not saints lijis, and holy palmers 
 
 too? 
 Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in 
 
 prayer. 
 Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what 
 hands do; 
 
 3 Set cock-a-hoop, play the bully. ■• Princox, coxcomb. 
 * Sweet, here a substantive, governed by "convert."
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to de- 
 spair. 106 
 Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for 
 
 prayers' sake. 
 Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's etfect 
 I take. ^Kissing Iter. 
 
 Thus from my lijis, by yours, my sin is purg'd. 
 Jul. Then have" my lips the sin that they have 
 took. 110 
 
 Rom. Sin from my lijjs? O trespass sweetly 
 
 urg'd ! 
 Give me my sin again. 
 
 Jiol. ' You kiss by th' book. 
 
 Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word 
 
 with you. 
 Rom. What is her mother? 
 Nurse. Marry, bachelor! 
 
 Her mother is the lady of the house, 
 And a good lady, and a wise, and virtuous : 
 I nurs'd her daughter, that you talk'd withal ; 
 I tell you, he that can lay hold of her 
 Shall have the chinks.^ 
 
 Rom. Is she a Capulet? 
 
 dear account ! my life is ray foe's debt. 120 
 Ben. Away, be gone ; the sport is at the 
 
 best. 
 Rom. Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest. 
 Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be 
 gone ; 
 We have a trifling foolish banquet^ towards.^— 
 Is it e'en so 1 Why, then, I thank you all ; 
 
 1 thank you, honest gentlemen ; good night. 
 More toi'ches here ! Come on then, let 's to 
 
 bed. 
 Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late : 
 I '11 to my rest. 
 
 [^E.veunt Capulct and utltcr.^. 
 Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond' 
 gentleman? 130 
 
 Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. 
 
 [E:vii Benvolio. 
 Jul. What 's he, that now is going out of 
 door ? 
 
 1 Chinks, money. 
 
 2 Banquet, a dessert of fruit, cakes, and wine. 
 
 3 Towards, ready. 
 
 Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Pe- 
 truchio. [Exit Mercutio. 
 
 Jul. What 's he, that follows there, that 
 would not dance ? [E.vit Romeo. 
 
 Nurse. I know not. 135 
 
 Jul. Go, ask his name: [Nurse goes aside 
 and questions one of the guests^ if he be 
 married, 
 My grave is like to be my wedding-bed. 
 Nurse. [Returning] His name is Romeo, and 
 a Montague ; 
 The only son of your great enemy. 
 
 Jtd. My only love sprung from my only hate! 
 Too early seen unknown, and known too late! 
 Prodigious birth of love it is to me, 112 
 
 That I must love a loathed enemy. 
 Nurse. What's this? what's this? 
 Jul. A rhyme I learn'd even now 
 
 Of one I danc'd withal. 
 La. Cap. [ Within] Juliet! 
 Nurse. Anon, anon: — 
 
 Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. 
 
 [E.reunt. 
 
 r Enter Chorus. ) 
 
 Chor. Now old desire doth in his death-bed) 
 
 lie, I 
 
 And young affection gapes* to be his heir; ) 
 
 That fair'' for which love groan'd for and; 
 
 would die, / 
 
 With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. ; 
 
 Now Romeo is belov'd and loves again, ? 
 
 Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; > 
 
 But to his foe su])pos'd he must complain, <: 
 
 And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful^ 
 
 hooks: 'I 
 
 Being held a foe, he may not have access l 
 
 To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; ^J 
 
 And she as much in love, her means much less^ 
 
 To meet her new-beloved any where: 12^ 
 
 But pas.sion lends them jjower, time means, to^ 
 
 meet, > 
 
 Tempering extremities with extreme sweet, s 
 
 [Exit. ] , 
 
 * Gnpes, impatiently longs. 
 197 
 
 s Fair, beauty
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. Verona. An open place adjoining 
 the wall of Capulefs garden. 
 
 !Q Enter Romeo. 
 Bom. Can I go forward when ray heart is 
 here 1 
 ^Turn back, dull earth, antl find thy centre out. 
 ^[i/e climbs the icall, and leaps down tnthin it. ~\ 
 
 Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. 
 
 Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo ! 
 
 J/,v. He is wise ; 
 
 And, on my life, hath storn him home to bed. 
 
 Ben. He i-an this way, and leap'd this or- 
 chard wall : 
 Call, good Mercutio. ^ 
 
 Mer. Nay, I '11 conjure too. — 
 
 Romeo! Humours' ^-madman! Passion-lover! 
 Appear thuu in the likeness of a sigh. 
 Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied ; 
 Cry but — Ah me I pronounce but — love and 
 dove ; lo 
 
 Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word. 
 One nick-n;ime for her purblind son and heir, 
 Young Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim, 
 When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar-maid ! 
 He heareth not, he .stirreth not, he moveth 
 
 not; 
 The ape- is dead, and I must conjure him. 
 I conjure thee by Ro.saline's bright eyes. 
 By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip, 
 [| By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering 
 ( thigh, 
 
 And the demesne.s that there adjacent lie, ] 20 
 That in thy likeness thou appear to us ! 
 
 Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger 
 him. 
 \ Mer. This cannot anger him : Q't would anger 
 ^ him 
 
 ^To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle 
 /Of some strange nature, letting it there stand 
 (•Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down; 
 That were some spite : ] my invocation 
 
 ' Ilummtrs, " amorous fancies." 
 - Ape, here used for a young man. 
 198 
 
 Is fair and honest ; in his mistress' name, 
 I conjure only but to raise uj) him. 
 
 Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among 
 these trees, oO 
 
 To be consorted with the humorous'' night : 
 Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. 
 
 Jler. If love be blind, love cannot hit the 
 mark. 
 [] Now will he sit under a medlar tree, > 
 
 And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit > 
 As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. 
 O, Romeo, that she were, O, that she were 
 An open et caetera, thou a poperin* pear ! ] ' 
 Romeo, good night; — I'll to my truckle-bed; 
 This field-l)ed is too cold for me to sleep : 40 
 Come, shall we go? 
 
 Ben. Go, then ; for 't is in vain 
 
 To seek him here, that means not to be found. 
 
 [E.ceicnt. 
 
 Scene II. Capulefs garden. 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Bom. He^ jests at scars that never felt a 
 
 wound. — 
 But, soft ! what light through yonder window 
 
 breaks ? 
 It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — 
 Arise, fair s>m, and kill the envious moon. 
 Who is already sick and pale with grief. 
 That thou her maid art far more fair than she : 
 [Juliet appears in balcony above. 
 QBe not her maid, since she is envious; ? 
 
 Her vestal livery is but pale and green, } 
 
 And none but ft)ols do wear it; cast it off. ] 1 
 It is my lady, O ! it is my love : 10 
 
 O, that .she knew she were ! — 
 She speaks, yet she says nothing. AVhat of 
 
 that? 
 Her eye discourses, I will answer it. 
 I am too bold, 't is not to me she speaks : 
 Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 
 
 3 Humorous, moist, humid. 
 
 ■* Pnperin, from Poperingues, a town in Frencli Flanders. 
 
 ■'" He, i.e. Mercutio.
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
 To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 
 ■^QWhat if her eyes were there, they in her 
 ; head? 
 
 '^The brightne.ss of her cheek would shame 
 those stars, 19 
 
 ) As daylight doth a lamp ; her eyes in heaven 
 i^ Would through the airy region stream so 
 ; bright 
 
 That birds would sing and think it were not 
 'i night. ] 
 
 See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! 
 (), that I were a glove upon that hand. 
 That I might ki.ss that cheek I 
 
 Jul. Ay me I 
 
 Rom. She speaks : 
 
 O, speak again, bright angel I for thou art 
 As glorious to this night, being o"er my head. 
 As is a winged messenger of heaven 
 Unto the white, upturned, wondering eyes 
 Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, so 
 When he bestrides the lazy-2)acing clouds. 
 And sails upon the bosom of the aii'. 
 
 Jul. O Romeo, Romeo I wherefore art tliou 
 Romeo ] 
 Deny thy father, antl lefuse thy name: 
 Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
 ^ And I '11 no longer be a Capulet. 
 
 Rom. [Asi(lif\ Shall I hear more, or shall I 
 
 speak at tliis ] 
 Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; 
 (QThou art thyself, though not a Montague. 
 / Wliat 's Montague ? it is noi- hand, nor foot, 
 ' Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 41 
 
 ^ Belonging to a man. O, be some other name I ] 
 What's in a name? that which we call a rose 
 By any other name would smell as sweet; 
 So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd. 
 Retain that dear perfection which he owes^ 
 Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; 
 And for that name, which is no part of thee. 
 Take all myself. 
 
 Rom. I take thee at thy word : 
 
 Call me Ijut love, and I '11 be new baptiz'd ; 50 
 Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 
 
 Jul. Wliat man art thou, that, thus be- 
 screen'd in night, 
 So stumblest on my counsel ? 
 
 1 Otves, owns. 
 
 Rom. By a name 
 
 I know not how to tell thee who I am : :,i 
 
 My name, dear .saint, is hateful to myself. 
 Because it is an enemy to thee; 
 Had I it written, I would tear the woi'd. 
 Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred 
 
 words 
 Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the 
 
 .sound : 
 Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague ? oo 
 
 :^-ii\\: 
 
 Jul. Komeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo? 
 
 Rant. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dis- 
 like. 
 Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and 
 wherefore ? 
 The orchard w^alls are high, and hard to 
 
 climb, 
 Antl the place death, considering who thou 
 
 art, 
 If any of my kinsmen find thee liere. 
 199
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 Rom. With love'.s light wings did I o'er- 
 jierch these walls; 66 
 
 For stony limits cannot hold love ont, 
 And what love can do, that dares love at- 
 tempt ; 
 Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. 
 Jul. If they do see thee, they will mnrder 
 thee. TO 
 
 Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine 
 eye, 
 Than twenty of their swords : look thou but 
 
 sweet, 
 And I am proof agaiast their enmity. 
 
 ,hd. I would not for the world they saw 
 thee here. 
 ) ^Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from 
 ! their sight; 
 
 )And but thou love me, let them find me here: 
 ', My life were better endetl Ijy their hate, 
 J Than death prorogued, Avanting of thy love. 
 V Jul. 3 By whose direction found'st thou out 
 this place ? 
 Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to 
 inquire : so 
 
 He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
 I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far 
 As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest 
 
 sea, 
 I Avould adventure ior such merchandise. 
 Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on 
 my face; 
 Else would a maiden blush bepaint m}' cheek 
 For that which thou hast heard me speak to- 
 night. 
 Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
 What I have spoke; but fai-ewell compli- 
 ment! 
 Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 
 " Ay," 00 
 
 And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, 
 Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' jjerjuries. 
 They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Eomeo, 
 If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: 
 Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
 I '11 frown, and be pem^erse, and say thee nay. 
 So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. 
 In truth, fair Montague, I am ton fond; 
 And therefore thou mayst think my 'haviour 
 light : " ii;) 
 
 But trust me, gentleman, T '11 prove more true 
 200 
 
 Than those that have more cunning to be 
 strange. lOi 
 
 I should have been more strange, I must con- 
 fess. 
 But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, 
 My true love's passion : therefore pardon me, 
 And not impute this yielding to light love, 
 Which the dark night hath so discovered. 
 
 Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear. 
 That tips with silver all these fruit-tree top.s, — 
 Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the incon- 
 stant moon, 
 That monthly changes in her circled orb, no 
 Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 
 Rom. What shall I swear by? 
 Jul. Do not swear at all; 
 
 Or, if thou wilt, swtar by thy gi'acious self, 
 Which is the god of my idolatry. 
 And I '11 believe thee. 
 
 Rom. If my heart's dear love — 
 
 Jul. Well, do not swear : although I joy in 
 thee, 
 I have no joy of this contrt'lct to-night : 
 It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; 
 Too Uke the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
 Ere one can say, "It lightens." Sweet, good- 
 night I 120 
 This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
 May prove a beauteous flower when next we 
 
 meet. 
 Good night, good night ! as sweet rei:)ose and 
 
 rest 
 Come to thy heart, as that within my breast I 
 Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 
 Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to- 
 night? 
 Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful 
 
 vow for mine. 
 Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst re- 
 quest it : 
 And yet I would it were to give again. 
 
 Rom. Wouldst thou withdraw it ? for what 
 purpose, love? 130 
 
 Jul. But to be frank, and give it thee again. 
 And yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
 My l)ounty is as boundless as the sea. 
 My love as dee]); the more I give to thee. 
 The more I have, for both are infinite. 
 
 l^Xurse calls within. 
 I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu !
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 Anon, good nui-se ! Sweet Montague, be true. 
 Stay but a little, I will come again. 
 
 [^Exit above. 
 Rom. O blessed, blessed night ! I am af eard, 
 Being in night, all this is but a dream, 140 
 Too tiattering-sweet to be substantial. 
 
 Re-enter Juliet, above. 
 
 Jul. Three words, deai' Eomeo, and good 
 night indeed. 
 If that thy bent of love be honourable. 
 Thy purpose marriage, send me word to- 
 morrow. 
 By one that I 'II procure to come to thee, 
 Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the 
 
 rite ; 
 And all my fortunes at thy foot I '11 lay, 
 And follow thee my lord throughout the world : 
 Nurse. \^]yitld,i\ Madam! 
 Jul. I come, anon. — But if thou mean'st not 
 well, 150 
 
 I do be.seech thee — 
 
 Nurse. \_Within'] Madam! 
 Jul. By and by, I come : — 
 
 To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief : 
 To-morrow will I send. 
 
 Rom. So thrive my soul, — 
 
 Jul. A thousand times good night I 
 
 \_E.cit above. 
 Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want 
 thy light. 
 Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from 
 
 their books. 
 But love from love, toward school with heavy 
 looks. [Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Juliet, ahoi-e. 
 
 Jul. Hist I Romeo, hist I O, for a falconer's 
 
 voice. 
 To lure this tassel-gentle ^ back again I 160 
 
 Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; 
 Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies. 
 And make her airy tongue more hoarse than 
 
 mine 
 With repetition of my Romeo's name. 
 Romeo! 
 
 ' Tassel-gentle, the male goshawk. 
 
 Re-enter Romeo. 
 
 Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name: 
 How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by 
 night, 160 
 
 Like softest music to attending ears ! 
 Jul. Romeo ! 
 Rom. My dear ! 
 
 Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 
 
 Shall I send to thee? 
 
 Rom. At the hour of nine. 
 
 Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till 
 then. 170 
 
 I have forgot why I did call thee back. 
 
 Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember 
 
 it. 
 Jul. I .shall forget, to have thee still stand 
 there, 
 Rememb'ring how I love thy company. 
 
 Rom. And I '11 still stay, to have thee still 
 forget. 
 Forgetting any other home but this. 
 
 Jul. 'T is ahuost morning, I would have thee 
 gone ; 
 And yet no further than a wanton's bird; 
 Vfho lets it hop a little from her hand. 
 Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, iso 
 And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 
 So loving- jealous of his liberty. 
 Rom. I would I were thy bird. 
 Jul. Sweet, so would I : 
 
 Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
 Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet 
 
 sorrow, 
 That I shall say — good night till it be morrow. 
 
 {E.vit. 
 
 Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in 
 
 thy breast ! 
 
 Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest ! 
 
 Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, isf> 
 
 His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. Verona. The monaster}/. 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence, idtJi a basket. 
 
 Fri. Z. The gray-ey'd morn smiles on the 
 frowning night, 
 Chequ'ring the eastern clouds with streaks of 
 light; 
 
 201
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 Q And flecked 1 darkness, like a dnmkard, reels 
 ' From forth day's itathaiul Titaii"s tiery wheels:] 
 Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, 
 The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, 
 I must up-fill this osier cage of ours 
 With baleful weeds, and precious- juiced flowers. 
 QThe earth, that's natui'e's mother, is her 
 i tomb ; 9 
 
 What is her burj'ing grave, that is her woml), 
 And from her womb children of divers kind 
 We sucking on her natural bosom find, 
 Many for many virtues excellent, 
 None but for some, and yet all diflerent. ] 
 O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies 
 In herbs, plants, stones, and their true quali- 
 ties: 
 For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, 
 But to the earth some special good doth give, 
 Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair 
 use, 19 
 
 Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : 
 Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; 
 And vice sometime 's by action dignified. 
 Within the infant rind of this small flower 
 Poison hath residence, and medicine jiower : 
 For this, being smelt, with that part cheers 
 
 each part; 
 Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
 Two such ojjposed kings encamj) them still 
 In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude 
 
 will; 
 And where the worser is predominant, 29 
 
 Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 
 Rom. [ ^'it}iOut'\ Good morrow, father. 
 Fri. L. Jtrnedifite! 
 
 What early tongue so sweet saluteth me ? — 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Young .son, it argues a distemper'd head 
 So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed : 
 Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye. 
 And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; 
 But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd 
 
 brain 
 Doth couch his limits, there golden sleep doth 
 
 reign : 
 Therefore thy earliness doth me assure ;«i 
 
 Thou ai't up-rous'd by some distemp'rature; 
 
 ' Flecked, spotted, streaked. 
 202 
 
 Or if not so, then here I hit it right, 41 
 
 Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. 
 ^Itom. That la.st is true; the sweeter rest 
 was mine. ^ 
 
 Fri. L. God pardon sin I wast thou with ' 
 Rosaline >■. ', 
 
 Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; 
 I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. 
 Fri. L. That 's my good son : but where - 
 hast thou been, then i ' 
 
 Rom. 1 '11 tell thee, ere thou ask it me ' 
 again. ] 
 I have been feasting with mine enemy; 49 
 Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me, 
 That's by me wounded; both our remedies 
 Within thy help and holy physic lies : 
 I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, 
 My intercession likewise steads my foe. 
 
 Fri. L. Be plain, good son, and homely in 
 thy drift ; 
 Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. 
 Rom. Then 2)lainly know my heart's dear 
 love is set 
 On the fair daughter of rich Capulet : 
 As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ; 
 And all combin'd, save what thou must com- 
 bine 00 
 By holy marriage : when, and where, and 
 
 how. 
 We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of 
 
 vow, 
 I '11 tell thee as we i)ass ; T)ut this I pray, 
 That thou consent to marry us to-day. 
 '^^Fri. L. Holy Saint Francis! what a change 
 is here! 
 Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear. 
 So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies 
 Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. 
 \_Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine 09 
 
 Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline I ; 
 How much salt water thrown away in waste, ' 
 To season love, that of it doth not taste ! 
 The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears. 
 Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears ; ', 
 Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit \ 
 Of an old tear that is not wa.sh'd oflF yet : ] 
 
 If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, \ 
 Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline : ] ^ 
 And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sen- 
 tence then, —
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 Women may fall, when there "s no strength in 
 men. so 
 
 Rom. Thon chidd'st nie oft for loving Rosa- 
 line. 
 Fri. L. For doting, not for loving, pupil 
 
 mine. 
 Rom. And bad'.st me bury l(jve. 
 Fri. L. Xot in a grave, 
 
 To lay one in, anothei' out to have. 
 
 Rom. I pray thee, chide not : she, whom I 
 love now. 
 Doth grace for grace, and love for love allow ; 
 Tlie other did not so. 
 
 Fri. L. O, she knew well 
 
 Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 
 But come, young waverer, come, go with me. 
 In one respect I '11 thy as.sistant Ije ; 90 
 
 For this alliance may .so happy prove. 
 To turn your households' rancour to jiiu'e love. 
 Rom. O, let us hence ; I stand on sudden 
 
 haste. 
 Fri. L. Wisely and slow ; they stumble that 
 run fast. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. Verona. Outside the city. 
 Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. 
 
 Mer. Why, where the devil should this 
 Romeo be ? 
 Came he not home to-night ? 
 
 Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his 
 man. 
 
 Her. Ah, that .same pale hard-hearted wench, 
 that Rosaline, 
 Torments him .so, that he will .sure run mad. 
 
 Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, 
 Hath sent a letter to his father'.s house. 
 
 Mer. A challenge, on my life. 
 
 Ben. Romeo will answer it. 
 
 Mer. Any man, that can write, may answer 
 a letter. lO 
 
 Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, 
 how he dares, being dared. 
 
 Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! 
 stabl >'d with a white wench's black eye ; shot 
 through the ear with a love-song; the very 
 pin'^ of his heart cleft with the blind bow- 
 
 1 Pin, the eentre-piii of tlie hutt or target. 
 
 boy's butt-shaft :- and is he a man to encounter 
 Tybalt? vj 
 
 iie/t. Wliy, what is Tybalt? 
 
 Mer. More than prince of cats, I can tell 
 you. O, he is the com-ageous captain of com- 
 plements.3 He fights as you sing prick-song, 
 keeps time, distance, and jjrcjportion ; rests me 
 his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your 
 bosom : the very butcher of a silk button, a 
 duellist, a duellist ; a gentleman of the very 
 first house,* of the first and second cause : ah, 
 the immortal ptissado ! '^ the punto reverso I " 
 the hay I '' lir 
 
 {_Ben. The what? ) 
 
 Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affect-; 
 ing fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! > 
 "By Jesu, a very good blade I a very tall mani ; 
 a very good whore I " ] Why, is not this a > 
 lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should 
 be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these 
 fashion-mongers, these 2^'^''donnez-mois, who 
 stand so much on the new form, that they 
 cannot sit at ease on the old bench ? O, their 
 hons, theii' bons! 'A' 
 
 Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. 
 
 Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring: 
 O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishitied I Now is 
 he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in : 
 Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen-wench; 
 marry, she had a better love to be-rhyme her ; 
 Dido, a dowdy ; Cleopatra a gipsy ; Helen 
 and Hero, hildings and harlots ; Thisbe, a gray 
 eye or so, but not to the purpose. 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Signior Romeo, bonjour! there's a French 
 salutation to your French slop. You gave us 
 the counterfeit fairly last night. 
 
 Rom. (Jood morrow to you both. What 
 counterfeit did I give you ? hO 
 
 Mer. The slip, sir, the slij) ; ^ can you not 
 conceive ? 
 
 - Butt-shaft, arrow u.sed in shooting at hutt^. 
 
 3 Complements, the punctilios of ceremony. 
 
 ■* A gentleman nf the very first house, i.e. "an upstart." 
 
 5 Passado, a step forward or aside in fencin;,'. 
 
 6 Punto reverso, aback-handed stroke. 
 
 ^ Haij, from Italian /i«i', "Thou hast it;" used vlien a 
 hit was made. 
 
 8 Slip, a kind of counterfeit money.
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio, luy business 
 was great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man 
 may strain courtesy. ■'■> 
 
 [_ Mer. That 's as much as to say, such a case 
 as yours constrains a man to 1 low in the hams. 
 
 Horn. Meaning, to court'sy. 
 
 Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. 
 <' Rom. A most courteous exj)osition. 60 
 
 Mer. Nay, I am the very j^ink of courtesy. 
 
 Rom. Pink for flower. 
 
 Mer. Right. 
 
 Rom. Why, then is my pump well flower'd.^ 
 ] Mer. Well said : follow me this jest now, till 
 'thou hast worn out thy pump ; that, when the 
 J single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, 
 ) after the wearing, sole singular. 
 ; Rom. O single-soled jest, solely singidar for 
 ' the singleness ! TO 
 
 / Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio ; my 
 '- wits faint. 
 
 Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs ; 
 or I '11 cry a match. 
 
 Mer. Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose 
 • chase, I have done ; for thou hast more of the 
 ; wild-goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, 
 ; I have in my whole live : was 1 with you 
 ! there for the goose? '"-o 
 
 Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything 
 : when thou wast not there for the goose. 
 
 < Mer. I will hite thee by the ear for that 
 . je.st. 
 
 < Ro7n. Nay, good goose, bite not. 
 i Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ;^ it 
 
 is a most .sharp sauce. 
 
 Rom. And is it not well serv'd in to a 
 i sweet goose ? 
 ] Mer. O, here 's a wit of cheveril,^ that 
 
 < stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad ! 
 ^ Rom. I stretch it out for that word "broad ;" 
 ^ which, added to the goose, proves thee far and 
 <^wide a broad goose. !U 
 
 ( '/ Mer. Why, is not this better now than 
 ^ ? groaning for love? now art thou sociable, now 
 1 ' art thou Romeo ; now art thou what thou art, 
 art as well as by nature : for this drivelling 
 
 Vby; 
 
 1 Well floiver'd. He means his pump or shoe was well 
 pinfeed, or punched with holes, as an ornament. 
 
 2 Bitter sweeting, a kind of apple. 
 
 3 Cheveril, soft leatlier, made from the hide of roebuck 
 (rhevreuil). 
 
 204 
 
 love is like a great natural, that runs lolling) 
 up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. ? 
 
 Ren. Stop there, stop there. ? 
 
 Mer. Thou desir'st me to stoj) in m}' tale^^ 
 against the hair.* ioo< 
 
 Re/i. Thou wouldst el-^e have made thy tale^ 
 large. j 
 
 Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd ; I would have •') 
 made it short: for I was come to the wholes 
 depth of my tale ; and meant, indeed, to oc- s 
 cupy the argument no longer. ^ 
 
 Rum. ] Here 's goodly gear ! 
 
 Enter Nursk and Peter. 
 
 Mer. A sail, a sail ! 
 
 Ben. Two, two ; a shirt and a smock. 
 
 Nurse. Peter. iio 
 
 Peter. Anon I 
 
 JWrse. My fan, Peter. 
 
 Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face ; for her 
 fan 's the fairer face. 
 
 JVurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. 
 
 3Ier. God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. 
 
 jVitrse. ^ Is it good den ? 
 
 Mer. T is no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy ; 
 hand of the dial is now u]>on the ])rick of; 
 noon. 119; 
 
 Nurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you I i 
 
 Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath 
 made, for himself to mar. 
 
 Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ; — " for / 
 himself to mar," quoth a'? — ]] Gentlemen, can/ 
 any of you tell me where I may find the young 
 Romeo ? 
 
 Rom. I can tell you ; but young Romeo will 
 be older, when you have found him, than he 
 was when you sought him : I am the youngest 
 of that name, for fault of a worse. 
 
 J[_N7irse. You say well. 130; 
 
 3/er. Yea, is the worst well ? very well took, '/ 
 i' faith; wisely, wisely. ] '^ 
 
 Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some 
 confidence with you. 
 
 Ben. She will indite him to some supper. 
 
 Mer. [; A bawd, a bawd, a bawd ! So ho ! ? 
 
 Rom. What hast thou found ? ^ 
 
 Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a> 
 
 * Against the hair, against the grain.
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar 
 ere it be spent. [Sinc/s. ^•''* 
 
 An old hare hoar, 
 
 And an old hare hoar, 
 Is verj- good meat in lent : 
 ) But a hare that is hoar 
 
 > Is too much for a score, 
 
 ? When it hoars ere it be spent. ] 
 
 Romeo, will you come to your father's ? Ave "11 
 to dinner thither. 
 
 Rom. I will follow you. 
 
 Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, — 
 
 [singincf] lady, lady, lady.^ I5i 
 
 [Exeunt Mercutio and BenvoUo, 
 
 jShirse. Marry, farewell I — I pray you, sir, 
 what saucy merchant was this, that was so 
 fidl of his ropery I - 
 
 Rom. A gentleman, niu'se, that loves to 
 hear himself talk ; and will speak more in a 
 minute, than he will stand to in a month. Vj~ 
 
 Mer. Farewell, ancient lady ; farewell,— [sinj^ing] lady, lady, lady. 
 
 Nurse. An a' speak any thing against me, 
 
 I '11 take him down, an a' were lustier than he 
 
 is, and twenty such Jacks; and if I cannot, 
 
 <I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave I QI 
 
 ( am none of his flirt-sills ; ^ I am none of his 
 
 < skains-mates.'* — Ajid thou must stand by too, 
 sand suffer every knave to use me at his plea- 
 <sure? 164 
 > Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; 
 ^if I had, my weapon should quickly have been 
 
 < out, I warrant you : I dare draw as soon as 
 
 3 Flirt-gills, transposed for "gill-flirts," loose women. 
 * Skains-mates, low companions. 
 
 another man, if I see occasion in a good quar-^^ 
 rel, and the law on my side. 169^ 
 
 J"«?-se. Now, afore God, I am so vex'd, that ; 
 every part about me cpiivers. Scm-vy knave I ] j 
 — Pray you, sir, a word : and as I told you, 
 my young lady bade me inquire you out ; what 
 she bade me say, I will keep to myself : but 
 fii'st let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into 
 a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very 
 gross kind of behaviour, as they say : for the 
 gentlewoman is young ; and, therefore, if you 
 
 1 Ladi/, lady, lady, the burden of an old ballad. 
 
 2 Ropery, roguery. 
 
 205
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 5- 
 
 should deal double with her, truly it were an I 
 ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, 
 and very weak dealing. isi 
 
 Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and 
 mistress. I protest unto thee — 
 
 2^^urse. Good heart, and, i' faith, I will toll 
 her as much : Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful 
 woman. 
 
 Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou 
 dost not mark me. 
 
 Xurse. I will tell her, sir, that 3'ou do pro- 
 test; which, as I take it, Ls a gentlemanlike 
 offer. 190 
 
 Rom. Bid her devise 
 Some means to come to shrift this afternoon ; 
 And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell 
 Be shriv'd, and married. Here is for thy 
 pains. 
 
 Nurse. No, truly, sir ; not a penny. 
 
 Rom. Go to ; I say you shall. 
 
 Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall 
 be there. 
 
 Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the 
 
 abbey wall : 190 
 
 Within this hour my man shall be with thee; 
 
 And bring thee cords made like a tackled 
 
 stair ; ^ 
 Which to the high top-gallant of my joy 
 Must be my convoy in the secret night. 
 Farewell ! be trusty, and I '11 quit thy jjains. 
 Farewell I commend me to thy mistress. 
 
 ^Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee 1 — 
 ; Hark you, sir. 
 
 < Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? 
 
 ' Nurse. Is your man Secret? Did you ne'er 
 
 hear say, 
 ; Two may keej) counsel, jjutting one away? 
 
 < Rom. I warrant thee, my man 's as true as 
 f steel. 210 
 ; Nurse. Well, sir ; my mistress is the sweetest 
 \ lady — Lord, Lord ! when 't was a little prating 
 ^ thing: — O, there is a nobleman in town, one 
 , Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard ; but 
 '. she, good soul, had as lief see a toad, a very 
 ) toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and 
 (tell her that Paris is the properer man; but, I'll 
 f warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale 
 
 1 Tackled stair, " the stairs of rope in the tackle of a 
 
 Bllij)." 
 
 206 
 
 as any clout in the varsal- world. Doth not^ 
 rosemary and Romeo begin both with a^ 
 letter? ; 
 
 Rom. Ay, inu'se ; what of that? both with 
 an R. '>-ii{ 
 
 Nurse. Ah, mocker I that 's the dog's name;; 
 R is for the dog. No ; I know it begins with ^ 
 some other letter : — and she hath the jn-ettiest ' 
 sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that 
 it would do you good to hear it. ' 
 
 Rom. Oonnnend me to thy lady. ] ■ 
 
 Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [^E.kU Romeo.] 
 Peter ! 2:iO 
 
 Ret. Anon ! 
 
 Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before, 
 and ajjuce. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. Vorona. Terrace of Capulet's 
 garden. 
 
 Enter Jl'likt. 
 
 Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send 
 
 the nurse ; 
 In half an hour she prorais'd to return. 
 Perchance she cannot meet him ; — that 's not 
 
 so. — 
 O, she is lame I love's heralds should be 
 
 thoughts. 
 Which ten times faster glide than the sun's 
 
 beams. 
 Driving back shadows over low'ring hills : 
 Q Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw 
 
 love, i 
 
 And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid 
 
 wings. ] 
 Now is the sun u])on the highmost hill 
 Of this day's journey; and from nine till 
 
 twelve 10 
 
 Is three long houi's, — yet she is not come. 
 Had she affections and warm youthful blood, 
 She 'd be as swift in motion as a ball ; 
 My words would bandy her to my sweet 
 
 love, 
 And his to me : 
 
 QBut old folks, many feign as they were dead;S 
 Unwieldy, slow, heavj' and pale as lead.] ) 
 O God, she comes I 
 
 - Varsal. universal.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 5. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 6. 
 
 Enter Nurse and Peter. 
 
 O honey nurse, wliat news? 
 Hast thou met with liim? Send thy man 
 away. 
 Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. 
 Jul. Now, good sweet nurse, — O Loixl, why 
 look'st thou sad ] 21 
 
 J ^Though news be sad, yet tell them meiTily; 
 / If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news 
 By playing it to me with so sour a face.] 
 
 Nurse. I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: 
 Fie, how my bones ache ! what a jaunt have 
 I had I 
 Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I 
 thy news. 
 Nay, come, I pray thee, S2:)eak ; good, good 
 nurse, speak. 
 Nurse. Jesu, what haste ? can you not stay 
 awhile? 
 Do you not see that I am out of breath ? so 
 Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou 
 hast breath 
 To say to me that thou art out of breath ? 
 • [|The excuse that thou dost make in this delay 
 ' Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.] 
 Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; 
 Say either, and I '11 stay the circumstance: 
 Let me be satisfied, is 't good or Ijad ? 
 
 Niirse. Well, you have made a simple choice ; 
 > you know not how to choose a man : QRomeo ! 
 )no, not he; though his face be better than any 
 ) man's, yet his leg excels all men's ; and for a 
 ^hand, and a foot, and a body, though they be 
 ?not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare: 
 / he is not the flower of courtesy, but, I '11 war- 
 rant him, as gentle as a lamb.] Go thy ways, 
 wench; serve God. — What, have you din'd at 
 home? 
 
 Jul. No, no: but all this did I know before. 
 
 What says he of our marriage? what of that? 
 
 Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! what a 
 
 head have I ! 
 
 It beats as it would fall in twenty j^ieces. .50 
 
 My back I — o' t' other side, — O, my back, my 
 
 back I [Juliet offers to rub her back: 
 
 Beshi'ew your heart for sending me about, 
 
 [Pushing Juliet away. 
 To catch my death with jaunting up and 
 down ! 
 
 Jul. V faith, I am sorry that thou art not 
 well. 54 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says 
 my love ? 
 Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentle- 
 man, and a courteous, and a kind, and a hand- 
 some, and, I warrant, a virtuous, — Where is 
 your mother? 
 
 Jtd. Where is my mother 1 why, she is 
 
 within; 00 
 
 Where should she be? How oddly thou re- 
 
 pliest ! 
 " Your love says, like an honest gentleman, — 
 Where is your mother I " 
 
 Nurse. O, God's lady dear I 
 
 Are you so hot ? marry, come up, I trow ; 
 Is this the poultice for my aching bones? 
 Henceforward do your messages yourself. 
 Jid. Here 's such a coil ! [Kneeling at Nursc^s 
 feet, and coa.ving her^ Come, w^hat says 
 Eomeo ? 
 Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift 
 
 to-day ? 
 Jtd. I have. 
 
 Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Lau- 
 rence' cell; 70 
 There stays a husband to make you a wife: 
 Now comes the wanton blood up in your 
 
 cheeks. 
 They '11 be in scarlet straight at any news. 
 QHie you to church ; I must another way, •. 
 To fetch a ladder, by the which your love < 
 Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark : ■ 
 I am the drudge, and toil in your delight, \ 
 But you shall bear the burden soon at ni^lit.];! 
 Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. 
 
 Jul. Hie to high fortune ! Honest nurse, 
 farewell. [Exeunt, so 
 
 Scene VI. Verona. The cloisters. 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. 
 
 Fri. L. So smile the heavens ujjou this holy 
 act. 
 That after hours with sorrow chide us not ! 
 Rom. Amen, amen I but come what sorrow 
 can. 
 It cannot countervail th' exchange of joy 
 That one short minute gives me in her sight : 
 207
 
 ACT II. Scene 0. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Do thou but close our hands with holy words, 
 Then love-devouring death do what he dare, 
 It is enough I may but call her mine. 
 
 Fri. L. These violent delights have violent 
 
 ends, 
 And in their triumph die, like fii'e and 
 
 powder, lO 
 
 Which, as they kiss, consume : the sweetest 
 
 honey 
 Is loathsome in his own deliciousness. 
 And in the taste confounds the appetite. 
 Therefore love moderately; long love doth 
 
 so; 
 Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Here comes the lady: — O, so light a foot 
 Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: 
 A lover may bestride the gossamer 
 That idles in the wanton summer air. 
 And yet not fall; so light is vanity. I'o 
 
 Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. 
 
 Fri. L. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, 
 
 for us both. ■!■> 
 
 Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too 
 
 much. 
 Rom. Ah, Juliet I if the measure of thy joy 
 Be heaj/d like mine, and that thy skill be 
 
 more 
 To blazon it, then sweeten with thy i)reath 
 This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue 
 Unfold the imagin'd haj)piness that both 
 Receive in either by this deai- encounter. 
 Jul. Conceit, more rich in mattei" than in 
 words, 30 
 
 Brags of his substance, not of ornament : 
 They are but beggars that can count their 
 
 worth ; 
 But my true love is grown to such excess, 
 I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. 
 Fri. L. Come, come with me, and we will 
 make short work; 
 For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone 
 Till holy church incorporate two in one. 
 
 \^Exeiint. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. A public place. 
 
 Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page, and 
 Servants. 
 
 Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let 's retire: 
 The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, 
 And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl ; 
 For now, these hot days, is the mad blood 
 stirring. 
 Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows that, 
 when he enters the conlines of a tavern, claps 
 me his sword upon the table, and says, " God 
 send me no need of thee ! " and, by the opera- 
 tion of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, 
 when, indeed, there is no need. lo 
 
 Ben. Am I like such a fellow ? 
 Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in 
 thy mood as any in Italy; Qand as soon moved 
 to be moody, and as soon moody to be mov'd. 
 \ Ben. And what to 1 
 
 ' Mer. Nay,] an there were two such, we 
 
 should have none shortly, for one would kill 
 
 208 
 
 the other. Thou ! why, thou wilt quarrel with 
 a man that hath a hair more, or a hair le.ss, in 
 his beard, than thou hast: thou wilt quarrel 
 with a man for cracking nuts, having no other 
 reason but because thou hast hazel eyes; — 
 Qwhat eye, but such an eye, would spy out> 
 such a quarrel ? Thy head is as full of quar- \ 
 rels as an egg is full of meat ; and yet thy head . 
 hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quar- 
 relling:] thou hast quarrell'd with a man for; 
 coughing in the street, because he hath wa- 
 kened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: 
 didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing 
 his new doublet before Easter? with another, 
 for tying his new shoes with old riband? and 
 yet thou wilt tutor me from ({uan-elling! 
 
 Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou 
 art, any man should buy the fee-.simple of my 
 life for an hour and a quarter. 
 
 Mer. The fee-simj)le I O simple ! 
 
 Be7i. By my head, here come the Capulets. 
 
 Mer. By my heel, I care not. 39
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 Enter Tvealt and others. 
 
 Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to 
 them. Gentlemen, good den: a word with one 
 uf you. 41 
 
 Mer. And but one woid with one of us? 
 couple it with something; make it a woi-d and 
 a blow. 
 
 Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, 
 su', an you will give me occasion. 
 
 ifer. Could you not take some occasion with- 
 out giving I 
 
 Tyb. Mercutio, thou consort'st with Eo- 
 meo, — 
 
 Mer. Consortia what, dost thou make us 
 minstrels? an thou make minstrels of us, look 
 to hear nothing but discords: here 's my fiddle- 
 stick ; here 's that shall make you dance. 
 "Zounds, consort ! 02 
 
 Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of 
 men: 
 Either withdraw unto some private place, 
 And reason coldly of your grievances, 
 Or else dejiart; here all eyes gaze on us. 
 
 Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let 
 them gaze; 
 I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. 
 
 Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir! here 
 comes my man. 
 
 Mer. But 1 11 be hang'd, sii', if he wear your 
 livery : 60 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Marry, go before to field, he '11 be your fol- 
 lower; 
 Your worship, in that sense, may call him — 
 man. 
 Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford 
 No better term than this, — thou art a villain. 
 Rom. Tybalt, the reiuson that I have to love 
 thee 
 Doth much excuse the apjjertaining rage ^ 
 To such a greeting: — villain am I none; 
 Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. 
 Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries 
 That thou hast done me; therefore turn, and 
 draw. 70 
 
 1 Consort, a company of musicians. 
 ^Appertaining rage— i.e. rage appertaining to. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Rom. I do protest, I never injur'd thee. 
 But love thee better than thou canst devise, 
 Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: 
 And so, good Capulet, — which name I tender-' 
 As dearly as my own, — be satisfied. 
 
 Mer. O cabn, dishonourable, vile submission I 
 Alia stoccata* carries it away. [Dravs. 
 
 Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk ? 
 
 Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? 79 
 
 Mer. Good king of cats,''^ nothing but one of 
 your nine lives ; that I mean to make bold 
 withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, 
 dry-beat" the rest of the eight. Will you 
 pluck your sword out of his pilcher'' by the 
 ears ? make haste, lest mine be about your ears 
 ere it be out. 
 
 Tyb. I am f(jr you. \^Drairing. 
 
 Rom. (Tcntle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. 
 
 Mer. Come, sir, your passado. \TIiey figJd. 
 
 Rom. Draw, Beiivolio : — beat down their 
 weapons. 
 Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage ! 90 
 Tybalt, — Mercutio, — the prince expressly hath 
 Forbidden bandying in Verona streets. 
 Hold, Tybalt ! — good Mercutio — 
 
 [Tybalty under Romeo's arvi, stabs Mercutio, 
 and flies loith Ids followers. 
 
 Mer. I am huit. 
 
 A plague o' both your houses ! I am sped. 
 Is he gone, and hath nothing? 
 
 Ben. What, art thou hurt f 
 
 Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch ; marry, 't is 
 enough. 
 Where is my page? — Go, villain, fetch a sur- 
 geon. \_Exit Page. 
 
 Rom. Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be 
 much. 9> 
 
 2Ier. No, 't is not so deep as a well, nor so 
 wide as a church-door; but 't is enough, 't will 
 serve: ask for me to-mon-ow, and you shall 
 find me a gi-ave man. I am pepper 'd, I war- 
 rant, for this world. A plague o' both your 
 houses ! 'Zounds I a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, 
 to scratch a man to death ! a braggart, a rogue, 
 a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! 
 
 3 Tender, regard. 
 
 ^Stnceata. a tlirtist or stab with a rapier. 
 
 5 King of cats, alluding to his name. 
 
 6 Dry-beat, severely heat. 
 
 ' Pilcher = pilch, a scabbard, or leather covering. 
 209 1*
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Why, the devil, c;ime you between us? I was 
 
 hurt under your arm. 
 
 Rom. I thought all for the best. 109 
 
 Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, 
 
 Or I shall faint. ^A jjlague o' both your housesi 
 
 lliey have made worms' meat of me: 1 have it, 
 And soundly too: your housesi 
 
 l^Exit, supported hy Benvolio. 
 Rom. This gentleman, the prince's near ally, 
 My veryi friend, hath got his mortal hurt 
 
 Ruin. Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again 
 
 111 my behalf; my reputation stain'd 
 With Tybalt's slander,— Tybalt, that an hour 
 Hath been my kinsman ! O sweet Juliet, 
 Thy beauty hath made me effeminate, 
 I And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! 120 
 
 Re-enter Benvolio. 
 
 Ben . O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio 's dead I 
 That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds. 
 Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
 Rom. This day's black fate on more day.^ 
 doth depend; 
 This but begins the woe others must end. 
 Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back 
 
 again. 
 Rom. Alive! in triumi)h! and Mercutio 
 slain ! 
 
 210 
 
 Away to heaven, respective lenity,- 
 
 And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct** now ! — 
 
 Re-enter Tybalt. 
 
 Now, Tybalt, take the "villain" back again, 130 
 That late thou gav'st me; for Mercutio's soul 
 Is but a little way above our heads, 
 Staying for thine to keep him company: 
 Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. 
 
 Tijh. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort 
 him hei'e, 
 Shalt with him hence. 
 
 Rom. This shall determine that. 
 
 {They fight; TybaH falls. 
 
 Ben. Romeo, away ! be gone ! 
 
 1 Very, true. 2 Respective lenity, prudent gentleness. 
 'i Conduct, conductor.
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene q. 
 
 The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. 
 
 Stand not amaz'd: the prince will doom thee 
 
 death, 
 If thou art taken : hence, be gone, away ! 140 
 Rom. O, I am fortune's fool ! 
 Ben. {_ Why dost thou stay ? ] 
 
 \^Exit Romeo. 
 
 < ]^Enter Citizens and Officers. 
 
 \ First Off. Which way ran he that kilFd 
 
 ^ Mercutio ? 
 
 I Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he ? 
 
 Ben. There lies that Tybalt. 
 
 First Off. Up, sir, go with me; 
 
 I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. 
 
 ( Enter Vb.i^cy., attended; Montague, Capulet, 
 ^ their Wives, and others. 
 
 \ Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this 
 
 I Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all 
 ^The unlucky manage^ of this fatal brawl: 
 ^ There lies the man, slain Ivy young Romeo, 
 >That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. 150 
 / La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin ! O my brother's 
 ) child ! 
 
 < O prince ! — O husband I — O, the blood is spilt 
 ( Of my dear kinsman ! — Prince, a.s thou art 
 ( true,- 
 
 \ For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. 
 
 < O cousin, cousin 1 
 
 < Prin. Benvolio, who Ijegan this bloody fray? 
 ( Ben. Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand 
 
 < did slay ; 
 
 (Romeo, that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 
 (How nice^ the quarrel was, and urg'd withal 
 <Your high displeasure: all this — uttered kjo 
 <With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly 
 ( bow'd, — 
 
 s Could not take truce with the unruly .spleen 
 ^Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts 
 ^With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, 
 ^Who, all as hf)t, turns deadly point to point, 
 5 And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats 
 /Cold death aside, and with the other .sends 
 ? It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity 
 i Retorts it : Romeo he cries aloud. 
 
 1 Manage, circumstances, or course. 
 
 2 Tnie, just. 3 Nice, trivial. 
 
 "Hold, friends I friends, part I "and, swifter^ 
 
 than his tongue, 170 ■ 
 
 His agile arm beats down their fatal points, / 
 And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose/ 
 
 arm ; 
 
 An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life '' 
 Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled: ( 
 
 But by and by comes back to Romeo, ^ 
 
 Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, { 
 
 And to 't they go like lightning; foi-, ere I ( 
 Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt' 
 
 slain, < 
 
 And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly: — <| 
 This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. 180 ;! 
 
 La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague; '. 
 Affection makes him false, he speaks not true: ^ 
 Some twenty of them fought in this black-, 
 
 strife, '/ 
 
 And all those twenty covdd but kill one life. ; 
 I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; ) 
 Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. ) 
 Pi-in. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; / 
 Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe 1 > 
 Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's 
 
 friend ; ) 
 
 His fault concludes but what the law should > 
 
 end, 190 '^ 
 
 The life of Tybalt. 
 
 Prin. And for that offence \ 
 
 Immediately we do exile him hence : ( 
 
 I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, ( 
 My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-', 
 
 bleeding ; I 
 
 But I '11 amerce you with so strong a fine < 
 That you shall all repent the loss of mine : ( 
 I will be deaf to pleading and excuses ; j| 
 
 Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out J 
 
 abuses : ^ 
 
 Therefore use none : let Romeo hence in haste, ', '^ 
 Else, when he 's found, that hour is his last. 200 ; 
 Bear hence this- body, and attend our will : ; 
 Mercy but murders, pardoning those that) 
 
 kill. 3 [E.xeunt. ', 
 
 r 
 
 Scene II. Capulefs orchard. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steed-s, 
 Towards Phoebus' lodging; such a waggoner 
 As Phaeton would whip you to the west, 
 211
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 ROMEO AN]) JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 And bring in cloudy night immediately. — 4 
 Spread thy close curtain, love -performing 
 
 night, 
 That lunaways'^ eyes may wink, and Romeo 
 Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. 
 ;^ Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
 -'By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, 
 ;It best agrees with night. — Come, civil- night, 
 ;Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, u 
 
 ■'^ And learn me how to lose a winning match, 
 ', Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods : 
 ^Hood my unmami'd^ blood, bating'' in my 
 'f cheeks, 
 
 ;;With thy black mantle ; till strange love, 
 [, grown bold. 
 
 Think true love acted simple modesty.] 
 Come, night I — Come, Romeo I come, thou day 
 
 in night ; 
 For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 
 Whiter than new snow on a raven's bai-k. — 
 Come, gentle night; come, loving, black- 
 brow'd night, 20 
 
 Give me my Romeo : and, when he shall die. 
 Take him and cut him out in little stars. 
 And he will make the face of heaven so fine, 
 That all the world will be in love with night, 
 And pay no worship to the garish^ sun. — 
 '^01 I have bought the mansion of a love, 
 )But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, 
 ■ Not yet enjoy'd : ] so tedious is this day 
 As is the night before some festival 
 To an impatient child, that hath new robes, 30 
 And may not wear them. O I here comes my 
 
 nurse. 
 And she brings news ; and every tongue, that 
 
 speaks 
 But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly elo- 
 quence. — 
 
 Eater Ncrse, icith cords. 
 
 Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou 
 
 there? the cords 
 That Romeo bid thee fetch ? 
 
 A'^urse. Ay, ay, the cords. 
 
 [^Throws them down. 
 
 1 Jinnaways, heve^runayates, i.e. late wanderers. 
 
 2 Civil, grave. 
 
 3 Unmann'd, a term of falconry, applied to a hawk not 
 used to the falconer. 
 
 * Bating, fluttering violently. 5 Garish, gaudy. 
 
 212 
 
 Jid. Ay me I what news? why dost thou 
 wring thy hands? 36 
 
 Niirse. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's 
 dead, he 's dead ! 
 We are undone, lady, we are undone I 
 Alack the day ! — he 's gone, he 's kill'd, he 's 
 dead! 
 Jtd. Can heaven be so envious? 
 Nurse. Romeo can, 40 
 
 Though heaven cannot: — O Romeo, Romeo ! — 
 Who ever would have thought it ? — Romeo ! 
 Jid. What devil art thou, that dost torment 
 me thus? 
 QThis torture shoidd be roar'd in dismal hell, 't 
 Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but "I,""^ 
 And that bare vowel "1" shall poison more \ 
 Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice : X 
 I am not I, if there be such an "I;" ^ 
 
 Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer "L" ^' 
 If he be slain, say "I;" or if not, "no:" 5o'. 
 Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. ] 1 
 jVurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine 
 eyes,— 
 God save the mark ! — here on his manly bieast: 
 A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse ; 
 Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, 
 _A11 in gore-blood ; I swoonded at the sight. 
 Jid. O, bi'eak, my heart I — poor bankrupt, 
 break at once ! 
 To prison, eyes I ne'er look on liberty ! 
 Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ; 
 , And thou, and Romeo, press one heavy bier! 60 
 V^ Nurse. O Tvbalt, Tybalt, the best friend I 
 had ! 
 O courteous Tybalt ! honest gentleman ! 
 That ever I should live to see thee dead ! 
 Jul. What storm is this, that blows so con- 
 trary? 
 Is Romeo slaughter'd ; and is Tybalt dead ? 
 Q My dear-lov'd cousin, and my dearer lord ? — { 
 Then, dreadful trumjjet, sound the general < 
 doom ! ( 
 
 For who is living, if those two are gone?] ' 
 JVurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; 
 Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. 70 
 
 Jid. O God! — did Romeo's hand shed Ty- 
 balt's blood ? 
 Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did. 
 
 " /, tlie old spelling of aye.
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT HI. Scene 2. 
 
 / Jul. QO serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring 
 
 < face ! 73 
 ^Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? 
 
 ( Beautiful tyrant I fiend angelical I 
 ^ Dove-f eather'd raven I wolvish-ravening lamb! 
 '. Despised substance of divinest show 1 
 j Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, 
 -A damned saint, an honourable villain !] 
 O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, so 
 When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend 
 In mortal j)aradise of such sweet flesh ? 
 Was ever book containing such vile matter 
 So fairly bound I O, that deceit should dwell 
 In such a gorgeous palace ! 
 
 j.Vurse. There 's no trust, 
 
 No faith, no honesty in men; all naught. 
 All perjur'd, aU dissemblers, all forsworn. 
 QAh, where 's my man? give me some aqua- 
 vitae : — 
 ^ These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make 
 
 < me old. ] 
 
 Shame come to Romeo ! 
 
 Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue 90 
 
 For such a wish I he was not born to shame : 
 
 Upon his brow .shame is asham'd to sit ; 
 
 For 'tis a throne Avhere honour may be crown'd 
 
 Sole monarch of the universal earth. 
 
 O, what a beast was I to chide at him I 
 
 JViD'se. Will you speak well of him that 
 
 kill'd your cousin? 
 Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my hus- 
 band ? 
 
 Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth 
 thy name. 
 
 When I, thy tlu-ee-hours wife, have mangled 
 it?— 
 
 QBut wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my 
 cousin? 100 
 
 ^That villain cousin would have kilPd my hus- 
 band : ] 
 
 Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; 
 
 Your tributary drops belong to woe. 
 
 Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. 
 
 ]My husband lives, that Tybalt would have 
 slain ; 
 
 And Tj'balt's dead, that would have slain my 
 husband : 
 
 All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? 
 
 Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's 
 death, 
 
 That murdered me; I would forget it fain; 
 But, 01 it presses to my memory, no 
 
 Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds : 
 "Tybalt is dead, and Romeo — banished;" 
 TThat "banished," that one word " banished," <' 
 Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death / 
 Was woe enough, if it had ended there : ? 
 
 Or, — if sour woe delights in fellowship, i 
 
 And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, — ( 
 Why followed not, when she said "Tybalt'sc 
 
 dead," <; 
 
 Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, < 
 
 Which modern 1 lamentation might have< 
 
 mov'd? 120 <; 
 
 But with a rear- ward- following Tybalt's^ 
 
 death, ] { 
 
 " Romeo is banished," — to speak that word, 
 Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 
 All slain, all dead. " Romeo is banished I" 
 Q There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 
 In that word's death ; no words can that woe 
 
 sound. ] 
 Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? 
 jVuise. Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's 
 
 corse : 
 Will you go to them >. I will bring you thither. 
 Jul. Wash they^ his wounds with tears: 
 
 mine shall be spent, i.io 
 
 When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. 
 Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are be- 
 
 guil'd. 
 Both you and I ; for Romeo is exil'd : 
 [[ He made you for a highway to my bed ; < 
 
 But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. |J 
 
 Come, cords, come, nurse; I '11 to my wedding-; 
 
 bed; ] 
 
 And death, not Romeo, take my maiden- < 
 
 head ! ] ' < 
 
 Nurse. Hie to your ohamlier : I '11 find Ro- 
 meo 
 To comfort you : I wot well where he is. 
 Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: 140 
 I '11 to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell. 
 
 Jul. O, find him I give this ring to my true 
 
 knight. 
 And bid him come to take his last farewell. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 1 Modem, ordinary, conventional. 
 
 2 liear-icard, rear-guard. 
 
 3 Wanh they, i.e. It-t them wash. 
 
 213 
 
 ■\
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 Scene III. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 
 
 Verona. A secret place in the 
 monaster}/. 
 
 Enter Friar Lauren'ce. 
 
 Fri. L. Romeo, come forth ; come forth, 
 thou fearful man : 
 Attiictiou is enamour'd of thy parts. 
 And thou art wedded to calamity. 
 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Rom. Father, what news? what is the 
 jjrince's doom '. 
 "What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, 
 That I yet know not? 
 
 Fri. L. Too familiar 
 
 Is my dear son with such sour company: 
 I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. 
 Rom. What less than dooms -day is the 
 
 prince's doom? 
 Fri. L. A gentler judgment vanish'd from 
 his lip.s, 10 
 
 Not body's death, but body's banishment. 
 Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say, — 
 death; 
 For exile hath more terror in his look. 
 Much more than death: do not say, — banish- 
 ment. 
 Fri. L. Hence from Verona art thou l)an- 
 ished : 
 Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 
 Rom. There is no world without Verona 
 walls. 
 But purgatory, torture, hell itself. 
 Henoe-banished is banish'd from the world. 
 And world's exile is death : — then banished 20 
 Is death mis-term'd : calling death — banish- 
 ment, 
 Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, 
 And smil'st uijon the stroke that murders me. 
 Fri. L. O deadly sin ! O rude imthankful- 
 ness ! 
 Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind 
 
 prince. 
 Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law. 
 And turn'd that black word death to banish- 
 ment : 
 This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 
 Rom. 'T is torture, and not mercy : heaven 
 is here, 
 
 214 
 
 Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog, 30 
 And little mouse, every unworthy thing. 
 Live here in heaven, and may look on her ; 
 But Romeo may not:— more validity,' 
 More honourable state, more courtship lives 
 In carrion-tties than Romeo : they may seize 
 On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
 And steal immortal blessing from her lips; 
 Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. 
 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ; 
 But Romeo may not; he is banished : 40 
 
 [] Flies may do this, but I from this must fly : S 
 They are free men, but I am l)anished. ] ! 
 
 And say'st thou yet that exile is not death ? 
 Hadst thou no poison raix'd, no sharp-ground 
 
 knife. 
 No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so 
 
 mean, 
 But— "banished"— to kill me ?— "Banished ?' 
 O friar, the damned use that word in hell ; 
 Howlings attend it : how hast thou the heart, 
 Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
 A sin-absolver, and my friend ju-ofcss'tl, ')0 
 To mangle me with that word " banished ? " 
 Fri. L. Thou fond m;ul man, hear nie liut 
 
 speak a word. 
 Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banish- 
 ment. 
 Fri. L. I 'II give thee armour to keep off 
 that word ; 
 Adversity's sweet milk, jthilosophy. 
 To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 
 Rom. Yet "banished?" Hangup jjhiloso- 
 phy! 
 Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
 Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom. 
 It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. 00 
 
 Fri. L. r O, then I see that madmen have i 
 
 > 
 no ears. > 
 
 Rom. How should they, ■when that wise men^ 
 
 have no eyes ? ] ' 
 
 Fri. L. Let me dispute with thee of thy 
 
 estate. 
 
 Ro7n. Thou canst not speak of that thou 
 
 dost not feel : 
 
 Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, 
 
 An hour but married, Tybalt murdered. 
 
 Doting like me, and like me banished, 
 
 1 Validity, worth, dignity.
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou 
 
 tear thy hair, 
 And fall upon the ground, as I do now, 
 Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 7o 
 [^Throws himself 0)1 the ground. Ktwckini/ 
 within. 
 Fri. L. Arise ; one knocks ; good Romeo, 
 hide thyself. 
 
 Rom. Not I ; unless the breath of heart-sick 
 groans, 72 
 
 Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. 
 
 ^Knocking. 
 Fri. L. Hark, how they knock!— Who's 
 there ? — Romeo, arise ! 
 Thou wilt be taken. — Stay awhile: — Stand up; 
 
 [Knocking. 
 
 jumc^' 
 
 F ri. L. Romeo, arise !— Thou wilt he takeu. 
 
 Run to my study. — By and by: — God's will. 
 What simpleness is this ! — I come, I come ! 
 
 [Knocking. 
 Who knocks so hard? whence come you? 
 what 's your will ? 
 Nursp. [Within^ Let me come in, and you 
 shall know my errand : 
 I come from Lady Juliet. 
 Fri. L. Welcome, then, so 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar. 
 Where is my lady's lord? where 's Romeo? 
 Fri. L. There on the ground, with his own 
 
 tears made drunk. 
 Nurse. O ! he is even in my mistress' case. 
 
 Just in her case ! 
 
 Fri. L. O woeful symitathy ! 
 
 Piteous predicament I 
 
 Nurse. Even so lies slie, 
 
 Q Blubb'ring and weejiing, Aveeping and blub- 
 
 b'ring. 
 
 Stand up, stand up; stand, an you be a man: 
 
 For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand ; 
 
 Why should you fall into so deep an O?] 90 
 
 Mom. Nurse ! 
 
 lYurse. Ah sir I ah sir I Well, death 'a the 
 
 end of all. . 
 Eo)7i. Spak'.st thou of Juliet '. how is it with 
 her? 
 £ Doth she not think me an old murderer, 
 Now I have stain'd the childhood of our jny \ 
 215
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 "With blood remov'd but little from her own?] 
 Where is she? and how doth she? and what 
 
 says 
 My conceal'd' lady to our cancell'd love? 
 Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps 
 and weeps; 9'J 
 
 And now falls on her bed ; and then starts up, 
 And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, 
 And then down falls again. 
 
 Rom. As if that name. 
 
 Shot from the deadly level of a gun, 
 Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand 
 Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell 
 
 me, 
 In what vile part of this anatomy 
 Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may 
 
 sack 
 The hateful mansion. \_T)rawiiig his dagger. 
 Fri. L. Hold thy desperate hand : 
 
 Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art : 
 Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote 
 The unreasonable fury of a beast: in 
 
 \ [^ Unseemly woman in a seeming man I 
 
 ' Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both I ] 
 Thou hast amaz'd me : by my holy order, 
 I thought thy disposition better temj)er'd. 
 Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? 
 And slay thy lady too, that lives in thee, 
 By doing damned hate ujjon thyself? 
 
 (QWhy rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, 
 
 \ and earth? 
 
 ^ Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three 
 
 \ do meet 120 
 
 ^In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst 
 
 '< lose. 
 
 (■Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy love, thy 
 
 ' wit; 
 
 \VTiich, like a usurer, abound 'st m all. 
 And usest none in that true use indeed 
 
 ^ Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy 
 
 •: wit : 
 
 '^ Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, 
 
 'Digressing from the valoui- of a man; 
 
 ■Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, 
 
 ^Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to 
 
 || cherish ; 
 
 ^Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, 130 
 
 ^Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both, 
 
 1 Cdnceal'd lady, i.e. secretly raarrieil wife. 
 216 
 
 Like powder in a skilless soldier's flask, 132^ 
 Is set a-fire by thine own ignorance, ) 
 
 And thou dismember'd with thine own de-|; 
 
 fence. ] ; 
 
 What! rouse thee, man I thy Juliet is alive. 
 For whose dear sake thou wast but lately 
 
 dead ; 
 There art thou ha])py: Tyljalt would kill thee. 
 But thou slew'st Tybalt; there art thou hapjjy 
 
 too: 
 The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy 
 
 friend, 139 
 
 And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: 
 A pack of blessings lights upon thy back ; 
 Happiness courts thee in her best array; 
 But, like a misbehav'd and sullen wench. 
 Thou pout'st uj)on thy fortune and thy love: 
 Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. 
 Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed. 
 Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: 
 But look thou stay not till the watch be set, 
 For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; 149 
 Where thou shalt live, till we can fiml a time 
 To blaze- your maniage, reconcile your friends. 
 Beg pardon of the jaince, and call thee back 
 With twenty hundred thousand times more 
 
 joy 
 
 Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. 
 Go before, nurse : commend me to thy lady ; 
 And bid her hasten all the house to bed. 
 Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: 
 Romeo is coming. 
 
 Xurse. O Lord, I could have stay'd here ail 
 
 the night loo 
 
 To hear good counsel : O, what learning is ! — 
 
 My lord, I '11 tell my lady you will come. 
 
 Rom. Do so, and l)id my sweet prepare to 
 
 chide. 
 Xurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give 
 you, sir : 
 Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Rom. How well my comfoit is reviv'd by 
 
 this 1 
 Fri. L. Go hence ; good night ; and here 
 stands all your state: 
 Either be gone before the watch be set. 
 Or by the break of day disguis'd from hence: 
 
 ■■i To blaze, to make known.
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 Sojourn in Mantua; I '11 find out your man, 
 And he shall signify from time to time iro 
 Eveiy good hap to you that chances here: 
 Give me thy hand ; 't i.s lute : farewell ; good 
 night. 
 Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on 
 me, 
 It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: 
 Farewell. \_Exeunt. 
 
 ScEXE IV. Verona. Capidefs house. 
 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and Paris. 
 
 Cajy. Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, 
 That we have had no time to move our 
 
 daughter : 
 Look you, she lov'd her kinsman Tybalt dearly. 
 And so did I. — Well, we were born to die. — 
 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to- 
 night : 
 I promise you, but for your company, 
 I would have been a-bed an hour ago. 
 
 Far. These times of woe afford no time to 
 
 woo: 
 Madam, good night : commend me to your 
 
 daughter. 
 La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early 
 
 to-morrow; lo 
 
 To-night she 's mew'd up to her heaviness. 
 Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate 
 
 tender 
 Of my child's love : I think she will be rulVl 
 In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it 
 
 not. 
 Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed ; 
 Acquaint her here of my son ParLs' love; 
 And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday 
 
 next — 
 But, soft I what day is this? 
 
 Par. Monday, my lord. 
 
 Cap. Monday ! ha, ha I Well, Wednesday 
 
 is too soon, 19 
 
 O' Tliursday let it be ; — o' Thursday, tell her, 
 She shall be mai'ried to this noble earl. 
 Will you be ready? do you like this haste? 
 We'll keep no gi'eat ado, — a friend or two; 
 For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, 
 It may be thought we held him carelessly. 
 Being our kinsman, if we revel much : 
 Therefore we '11 have some half a dozen friends, 
 
 And there an end. [7*0 Paris] But what say 
 you to Thursday? 
 Par. My lord, I would that Thursday were 
 
 to-morrow. 
 Cap. Well, get you gone : o' Thursday be 
 it, then. 30 
 
 Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed. 
 Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. 
 Farewell, my lord. — Light to my chamber, ho ! 
 Q Afore me I 't is so very late, that we ', 
 
 May call it early by and by: — good night.] ^ 
 
 [^E.veunt. 
 
 Scene V. Verona. Juliet's chamber. 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near 
 
 da}': 
 It was the nightingale, and not the lark. 
 That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
 Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree : 
 Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
 Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the 
 
 mom. 
 No nightingale : look, love, what envious 
 
 streaks 
 Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : 
 Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 10 
 I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 
 
 Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I know it. I : 
 It is some meteor that the sun exliales. 
 To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
 And Ught thee on thy way to Mantua : 
 Therefore stay yet ; thou need'.st not to be 
 
 gone. 
 Rom. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to 
 
 death ; 
 I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
 I 'U say yon gi'ay is not the morning's eye, 
 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; 20 
 Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
 The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : 
 I have more care to stay than will to go : 
 Come, death, and welcome I Juliet wills it so. 
 How is 't, my soul ? let 's talk ; it is not day. 
 Jul. It is, it is : hie hence, be gone, away I 
 It is the lark that sir.gs so out of tune. 
 Straining harsh discords and unpleasingsharps. 
 QSome say the lark makes sweet division; 
 217
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 ^This doth not so, for she divideth us : so 
 
 Some say the lark and loathed toad change 
 \ eyes; 
 
 JO, now I would they had changed voices too! 
 \ Since arm from ju-m that voice doth us affray, 
 
 < Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up^ to the 
 
 < day. 3 
 
 O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. 
 Mom. More light and light,— more dark and 
 dark our woes I 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Nurse. Madam! 
 Jul. Nurse? 
 
 Xurse. Your lady mother is coming to your 
 
 chamber : >*9 
 
 The day is broke ; be wary, look about. {Exit. 
 
 Jul. Then, window, let day in, and let life 
 
 out. 
 Rom. Farewell, farewell 1 one kiss, and I '11 
 descend. [He descends. 
 
 Jul. Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, 
 my friend I 
 I must hear from thee every day in the hour, 
 For in a minute there are many days : 
 O I by this count I shall be much m years 
 Ere I again behold my Romeo I 
 
 Rom. Farewell ! 
 I will omit no opportunity 49 
 
 That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. 
 Jul. O, think'st thou we shall ever meet 
 
 again 1 
 Rom. I doubt it not ; and all these "woes 
 shall serve 
 For sweet discourses in our time to come. 
 
 Jul. O God ! I have an ill-divining soul : 
 Methinks I see thee, now thou art bel(jw. 
 As one dead in the })ottom of a tomb : 
 Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. 
 Rom. And trust me, love, in my eye so do 
 you : 
 Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu ! 
 
 {Exit. 
 } VJul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee 
 I tickle : CO 
 
 /If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 
 ' That is renown'd for faith I Be fickle, fortune; 
 
 1 Hunt's-up, an old tune, "Tlie Hunt is up ;" played to 
 wake sportsmen in eai'ly morning. 
 218 
 
 For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, ) 
 But send him back. ]] «4 
 
 La. Cap. {Within] Ho, daughter! ai'e you 
 
 up? 
 Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady 
 mother I 
 Is she not down so late, or up so early? 
 What unaccustom'd cause procui-es her hither? 
 
 Jvl. 0, think'st thou we shall ever meet again? 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet. 
 
 La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet ! 
 
 Jul. ISIadam, I am not well. 
 
 La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cousin's 
 
 death? 70 
 
 What, wilt thou wash him from his grave 
 
 with teai's? 
 QAn if thou couldst, thou couldst not make^ 
 him live; '
 
 ACT III. Scene 5. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT 111. Scene 5. 
 
 ) Therefore, have done: some grief shows much 
 ) of love; T3 
 
 'But much of grief shows still some want of 
 ) wit. 
 ) Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. 
 
 > La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not 
 ) the friend 
 
 > Which you weep foi-. 
 
 > Jul. Feeling so the loss, 
 >I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. 
 
 ' La. Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so 
 J much for his death, 
 
 ■"As that the villain lives which slaughter'd 
 him. so 
 
 \ Jul. What villain, madam? 
 \ Xa. Cap. That same villain, Eomeo. 
 
 \ Jul. \Adde\ Villain and he be many miles 
 ( asunder. — 
 
 <God pardon him I I do, with all my heart; 
 (And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. 
 < La. Cap. That is, because the traitor mur- 
 
 > derer lives. 
 
 \ Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these 
 
 i my hands : — 
 
 S Would none but I might venge my cousin's 
 
 > death I 
 
 ) La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, 
 
 > fear thou not : 
 
 ^Then weep no more. I'll send to one in 
 \ Mantua, — 89 
 
 /Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, — 
 'Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, 
 ^That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: 
 ?Aiid then, I hope, thou wilt be satistied. 
 } Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied 
 
 With Romeo, till I behold him — dead — 
 
 ( Is my poor heart — so for a kinsman vex'd : 
 
 < Madam, if you could find out but a man 
 (To bear a poison, I would temper it; 
 <That Eomeo should, upon receipt thereof, 99 
 (Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors 
 ^ To hear him nam'd, — and cannot come to him, 
 (^ To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt 
 ( Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him 1 
 ) La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I '11 find 
 ; such a man. ] 
 
 But now I '11 tell thee joyful tidings, girl. 
 Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful 
 time : 
 
 What are they, I beseech your ladyship? 
 
 ^La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful; 
 father, child; ^ 
 
 One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, \ 
 Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, iiO) 
 
 That thou expect'.st not, nor I look'd not for. > 
 Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day is! 
 that? 3 ' \ 
 
 La. Cap. Marry, my child, early next Thurs- 
 day morn, 
 The gallant, young and noble gentleman, 
 The County Paris, at St. Peter's Church, 
 Shall hapi^ily make thee there a joyful bride. 
 Jul. Now, by Saint Peter's Church and 
 Peter too, 
 He shall not make me there a joyful bride. 
 I wonder at this haste; that 1 must wed 119 
 Ere he, that should be husliand, comes to woo. 
 I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, 
 I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, 
 It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate. 
 Rather than Paiis.^These are news indeed ! 
 La. Cap. Here comes your father; tell him 
 so yourself. 
 And see how he will take it at your hands. 
 
 Enter Capulet and Nurse. 
 
 Cap. Q When the sun sets, the air doth ) 
 
 drizzle dew; ; 
 
 But for the sunset of my Ijrother's son > 
 
 It rains downright. — 3 '' 
 
 How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in 
 
 tears? 130 
 
 Evermore showering? Q In one little body > 
 Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; / 
 
 For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, ) 
 Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy^ 
 
 body ^ 
 
 Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; > 
 Who, raging with thy tears, and they with> 
 
 them, ( 
 
 Without a sudden calm, will overset ^ 
 
 Thy tempest-tossed body. ] How now, wife ! '. 
 Have you delivered to her our decree? 
 
 La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she 
 
 gives you thanks. 140 
 
 I would the fool were married to her grave I 
 Cap. Soft I take me with you, take me Avith 
 
 you, wife. 
 How! will .she none? doth she not give us 
 
 thanks ? 
 
 219
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 Is she not pruiul '. doth she uot count her 
 bless'd, ^ii 
 
 Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought 
 So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? 
 JuL Not proud, you have; but thankful, 
 that you have : 
 Proud can I never l)e of what I hate; 
 But thankful e'en foi- hate, that is meant love. 
 Cap. How now-: how now, chop- logic ! What 
 is this? ISO 
 
 "Proud,"— and, " I th;ink you,"— and "I thank 
 
 you not;'' 
 And yet "not i)roud:" you, mistress minion, 
 
 you. 
 Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no 
 
 prouds, 
 But fettle' your tine joints 'gainst Thursday 
 
 next. 
 To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, 
 Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 
 } ^ Out, you green-sickness carrion I out, you 
 '< baggage ! 
 ^ You tallow-face I 
 
 < La. Cap. Fie, fie ! what, are you mad '. ] 
 Jul. [KneeliiHj] Good father, I beseech you 
 
 on my knees, 159 
 
 Hear me with patience but to sj^eak a word. 
 Cap. Hang thee, young baggage 1 disobe- 
 dient wretch 1 
 I tell thee what : get thee to church o' Thurs- 
 day? 
 Or never after look me in the face : 
 ^Q Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; 
 ' My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us 
 '> bless'd 
 
 <;That God had sent us but this only child; 
 ( But now I see this one is one too much, 
 
 < And that we have a curse in having her : 
 <Out on her, hildingl- 
 
 < Narsc. (iod in heaven bless her! 
 
 < You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. ivo 
 
 < Cap. And why, my lady wisdom? hold 
 
 < your tongue, 
 
 ^Good prudence; smatter" with ycmrgossips, go. 
 
 < Nurse. I s])eak no treason. 
 
 \ Cap. O, God ye god-den.* 
 
 '• Nurse. May not one speak t' ye ? 
 
 1 Fettle, get ready. 
 =' Smatter, talk ignorantly 
 * Ye god-den, (give) ye good evening. 
 220 
 
 Ililding, base wretch. 
 
 Cap. Peace, you mumbling fool I 
 
 ITtter your gravity o'er a gossij)'s bowl; 170 
 For here we need it not.] -' 
 
 La. Cap. You are too hot. 
 
 Cap. God's bread I'' it makes me mad: tlay, 
 
 night, Lite, early. 
 At home, abroad, alone, in company. 
 Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been 
 To have her match'd: and having now pro- 
 vided ISO 
 A gentleman of noble parentage. 
 Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd. 
 Stuff' d, as they say, with honourable parts, 
 Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a 
 
 man ; 
 And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
 A whining mammet,'' in her fortune's tender," 
 To answer " I '11 not wed, — I cannot love, 
 I am too young, — I pray you, pardon me; — " 
 But, an you will not wed, I '11 pardon you: 
 (rraze where you will, you shall not house 
 
 with me: I'JO 
 
 QLook to 't, think on 't, I do not use to jest. < 
 Thursday is ne.ar; lay hand on heart, advise:]'^ 
 An you be mine, I '11 give you to my friend; 
 An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the 
 
 streets, 
 For, by my soul, I '11 ne'er acknowledge thee. 
 Nor what is mine shall never do thee good : 
 Trust to't, bethink you; I '11 not be forsworn. 
 
 [Exit. 
 JuL Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, 
 That sees into the bottom of my gi'ief ? — 
 O, sweet my mother, cast me not away I 200 
 Delay this marriage for a month, a week ; 
 Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
 In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. 
 La. Cap. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak 
 
 a word: 
 Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. 
 
 [EAt. 
 Jul. \Rising\ O God I — O nurse, how shall 
 
 this be prevented? 
 QMy husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;' 
 How shall that faith return again to earth, \ 
 Unless that husband send it me from heaven ^ 
 By leaving earth? — comfort me, counsel me. — ^] > 
 
 * God's bread, i.e. the Host, the blessed Sacrament. 
 '^Mammet, doll. "> In her fortune's tender, i.e. just 
 
 when fortune tenders her a prize.
 
 ACT III. Sceue 5. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV, Scene 1. 
 
 Alack, alack I — that heaven should practise 
 stratagems 211 
 
 Upon so soft a subject as myself I — 
 What say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ? 
 Some comfort, nurse. 
 
 jVtirse. Faith, here 'tis: Romeo 
 
 Is banished; and all the world to nothing. 
 That he dares ne'er come back to challenge 
 
 you; 
 Or, if he do, it needs must be Ijy stealth. 
 Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, 
 I think it best you married with the County. 
 O, he 's a lovely gentleman ! 220 
 
 Romeo 's a dishclout to him : an eagle, madam. 
 Hath not so gi'een, so quick, so fair an eye 
 As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, 
 I think you are hapjjy in this second match. 
 For it excels your first: or if it did not. 
 Your first is dead ; or 't were as good he were, 
 As living here, and you no use of him. 
 Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart ? 
 
 Nurse. And from my soul too; 
 
 Or else beshrew them lioth. 
 
 Jul. Amen I 
 
 Nurse. What? 
 
 Jul. Well, thou hast comforted me marvel- 
 lous much. 230 
 Go in; and tell my lady I am gone. 
 Having displeas'd my father, to Laurence' cell, 
 To make confession, and to be absolv'd. 
 
 Nurse. Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Jul. [Looking after Nurse^ A ncient damnation 1 
 O most cursed fiend I 
 Is it more sin to wish me thus forswora, 
 Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue 
 Which she hath prais'd him with above compare 
 So many thousand times? — Go, counsellor; 
 Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be 
 twain. — 240 
 
 I '11 to the friar, to know his remedy; 
 If all else fail, myself have power to die. [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. Verona. The Friar's cell. 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Paris. 
 
 Fri. L. On Thm-sday, sir? the time is very 
 
 short. 
 Par. My father Capulet will have it so; 
 And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. 
 Fri. L. You say, you do not know the lady's 
 mind; 
 Uneven is the course, I like it not. 
 
 Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's 
 death. 
 And therefore have I little talk'd of love; 
 For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 
 Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous 
 That she doth give her sorrow so much sway. 
 And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage, 11 
 To stop the inundation of her tears; 
 )QWhich, too much minded by herself alone. 
 May be put from her by society:] 
 Now do you know the reason of this haste. 
 Fri. L. [Aside'] I would I knew not why it 
 should be slow'd. — 
 Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 
 Par. Hajjpily met, my lady and my wife ! 
 Jul. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. 
 Par. That " may be " must be, love, on 
 
 Thursday next. 20 
 
 Jul. What must be shall be. 
 Fri. L. That 's a certain text. 
 
 Par. Come you to make confession to this 
 
 father? 
 Jul. To answer that, I should confess to you. 
 ^Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. 
 Jul. I will confess to you that I love him. 
 Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love me. 
 Jul. If I do so, it will be of more price, 
 Being spoke behind your back, than to yotrr 
 
 face. 
 Par. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with 
 
 tears. 
 Jul. The tears have got small victory by that; 
 For it was bad enough before their spite. 31 
 Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with 
 
 that report. 
 Jul. That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; 
 And what I spake, I spake it to my face. 
 •221
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 ^ Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slan- 
 s der'd it. 35 
 
 \ Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine o-\vn.^] 
 Axe you at leisure, holy father, now; 
 Or shall I come to you at evening mass ? 
 Fri. L. My leisure serves me, pensive daugh- 
 ter, now.— 
 My lord, we must entreat the time alone. 40 
 Par. God shield I should disturb devo- 
 tion! — 
 Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you: 
 Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. 
 
 [hlvit. 
 Jul. O, shut the door 1 and when thou hast 
 done so, 
 Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past 
 help I 
 Fri. L. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy gi'ief ; 
 It strains me past the compass of my wits: 
 I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue 
 
 it, 
 On Thursday next be married to this county. 
 Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of 
 
 this, ,10 
 
 Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: 
 If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no helj). 
 Do thou but call my resolution wise. 
 And with this knife I '11 helj) it presently. 
 God join'd my heart and Komeo's, thou our 
 
 hands ; 
 And ere this hand, by thee to Eomeo seal'd, 
 Shall be the label to another deed, 
 Or my true heart with treacherous revolt 
 Turn to another, this shall slay them both: 
 Therefore, out of thy long-experienc'd time, co 
 Give me some present counsel, or, behold, 
 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife 
 Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that 
 Which the commission of thy years and art 
 Could to no issue of true honour bring. 
 Be not so long to speak; I long to die. 
 If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. 
 Fri. L. Hold, ilaughterl I do spy a kind of 
 
 hope, 
 "Which craves as desperate an execution ca 
 As that is desperate which we would ])revent. 
 If, rather than to maj'ry C'ounty Paris, 
 Thou hast the strengtb of will to slay thyself. 
 Then is it likely thou wilt undertake 
 A thing like death to chide away this shame, 
 222 
 
 QTliat copst with death himself to scape/ 
 
 from it; 75/ 
 
 And, if thou dar'st, I "11 give thee remedy. > 
 Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry P;iris, <' 
 From off the battlements of yonder tower; <' 
 Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk t 
 "Where serpents are; chain me with roaring? 
 
 bears; so 
 
 Oj- shut me nightly in a chanud-house, 
 O'er-covered quite with dead men's rattling 
 
 bones, 
 With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; 
 Or bid me go into a new-made grave ) 
 
 And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; ) 
 Things that, to hear them told, have made me ^ 
 
 tremble ; s 
 
 And I will do it without fear or doubt, ) 
 
 To live unstained wife to my sweet love. ', 
 
 Fri. L.'2 Hold, then ; go home, be merry, give 
 
 consent 
 To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-monow: 90 
 To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; 
 Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber; 
 Take thou this vial, being then in bed. 
 And this distilled liquor drink thou oif; 
 When presently through all thy veins shall run 
 A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse 
 Shall keep his native jjrogress, but surcease: 
 No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; 
 The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade 
 To paly ashes; thy eyes' windows fall, 100 
 
 Like death, when he shuts up the day of life: 
 Each part, depriv'd of supple government, 
 Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like 
 
 death: 
 And in this borrowed likeness of shrunk death 
 Thou shalt continue two and forty hours. 
 And then awake as from a pleasant slee]). 
 Now, when the bridegroom in the morning 
 
 comes 
 To rouse thee from thy bed, there ai't thou 
 
 dead: 
 Then, as the manner of our country is, 
 In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier, 110 
 Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault 
 Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. 
 In the mean time, against thou shalt awake. 
 Shall Romeo by my letters know om- drift, 
 And hither shall he come; and he and I 
 Will watch thy waking, and that very night
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. 
 And this shall free thee from this present 
 
 shame ; 
 If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, 
 Abate thy valour in the acting it. 120 
 
 Jul. Give me, give me I O, tell not me of 
 fear ! 121 
 
 Fri. L. Hold ; get you gone, be strong and 
 prosperous 
 In this resolve : I '11 send a friar with speed 
 
 Jul. Give me, give me! 0, tell not me of fear '. 
 
 To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. 124 
 Jul. Love give me strength ! and strength 
 shall help afford. 
 Farewell, dear father ! {^Exeunt. 
 
 \ Q Scene II. Verona. Hall in Capulefs house. 
 
 / Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, Nurse, and 
 } two Servants. 
 
 ) Cap. So many guests invite as here are 
 
 ) writ. — [Exit First Servant. 
 
 / Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. 
 
 / Sec. Serv. You shall have none ill, sir ; for 
 
 1 1 '11 try if they can lick their fingers. 
 
 \ Cap. How canst thou try them so? 
 
 c Sec. Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that 
 
 cannot lick his own fingers: therefore he that 
 cannot lick his fingers goes not with me. 
 
 Cap. Go, be gone. — [Exit Sec. Servant. 
 We shall be much unf urnish'd for this time. — 
 What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lau- 
 rence ? 11 
 Nurse. Ay, forsooth. 
 
 Cap. Well, he may chance to do some good 
 on her: 
 A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. 
 
 Nurse. See where she comes from shrift with 
 merry look. 
 
 Enter Juliet. 
 Cap. How now, my headstrong! where have 
 you been gadding? 
 22.3
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 Jul. Whei-e I have learned me to repent the 
 
 ') sin 
 
 Of disobedient opposition 
 To you and your behests; and am enjoin'd 
 By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, 20 
 And beg your pan Ion: pardon, 1 beseech youl 
 Henceforward I am ever rul'd by you. 
 
 / Cap. Send for the county : go tell him of this : 
 
 '/ 1 '11 have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. 
 
 \ Jul. I met the youtliful lord at Laurence' 
 
 \ cell; 
 
 /And gave him what becomed love I might, 
 Not stei)ping o'er the bounds of modesty. 
 ' Cap. Why, I am glad on 't ; this is well,— 
 
 i stand up, — 
 
 This is as 't should be. Let me see the county; 
 Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. — 
 Now, afore God I this reverend holy friar, 31 
 All our whole city is much bound to him. 
 Jul. Nurse, will you go with me into my 
 closet. 
 To help me sort such needful ornaments 
 As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? 
 La. Cap. No, n(jt till Thursday; there is 
 
 time enough. 
 Cap. Go, nurse, go with her : we '11 to church 
 to-morrow. \_E:veu)it Juliet and Nurse. 
 ') La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision: 
 /'Tis now near night. 
 
 ] Cap. Tush, I will stir about, 
 
 /And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, 
 / wife : 40 
 
 ,'Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; 
 > I '11 not to bed to-night ; let me alone ; 
 ; I '11 play the housewife for this once. What, 
 ; ho! 
 
 /They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself 
 /To County Paris, to prepare him up 
 /Against to-morrow: mv heart is w^ondrous 
 \ light, 
 
 ^ Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. 
 { [Exeunt. ] 
 
 Scene III. Verona. Juliet's ehamher: 
 night. 
 
 JrLiP:T and Nurse. 
 
 Jul. Ay, those attires are best : — but, gentle 
 nurse, 
 I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night ; 
 224 
 
 For I have need of many orisons 3 
 
 To move the heavens to smile upon my state, 
 Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full oi 
 sin. 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet. 
 
 La. Cap. What, are you busy ? do you need 
 
 my help? 
 Jul. No, mtulam ; we have cuU'd such neces- 
 saries 
 As are behoveful for our state to-morrow : 
 So please you, let me now be left alone, 9 
 
 And let the nurse this night sit up with you ; 
 For, I am sure, you have your hands full all. 
 In this so sudden business. 
 
 La. Cap. Goodnight: 
 
 Get thee to bed, and rest ; f(;r thou luist need. 
 
 [Eveunt Ladi/ Capulet and Xurse. 
 
 Jul. Farewell ! God knows when we shall 
 
 meet again. 
 
 I have a faint cold fear thrills through my 
 
 veins. 
 That almost freezes up the heat of life : 
 I '11 call them liack again to conifoi't me. — 
 Nurse 1 — What should she do here? 
 My dismal scene I needs must act alone. — 
 Come, vial. — 20 
 
 What if this mixture do not work at all ? 
 Must I of force be married to the county? — 
 No, no ; — this shall foi-bid it : — lie thou there. 
 [Laying down a dagger. 
 What if it be a poison, which the friar 
 Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead ; 
 Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, 
 Because he married me before to Romeo? 
 I fear it is : and yet, methinks, it should not, 
 For he hath still been tried a holy man. 
 How if, when I am laid into the tomb, so 
 
 I wake before the time that Romeo 
 Come to redeem me ? there 's a fearful point ! 
 Shall I not then be stifled in the vault. 
 To whose foul mouth no healthsome air 
 
 breathes in. 
 And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? 
 Or, if I live, is it not very like. 
 The horrible conceit of death and night. 
 Together with the terror of the place, — 
 As in a vault, an ancient rcce])tacle. 
 Where, for these many himdred years, the 
 bones -to
 
 ACT IV, Scene 3. 
 
 BOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4 
 
 Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd : 4i 
 
 Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth. 
 Lies festering in his shroud ; where, as they say, 
 At some hours in the night spirits resort ; — 
 Alack, alack, is it not like that I, 
 So early waking, — what with loathsome smells, 
 
 Jul. Komeo ! I come. This do I drink to thee. 
 
 And shrieks like mandrakes' turn out of the 
 
 earth, 
 That living mortals, hearing them, run mad : — 
 O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught, 
 Environed with all these hideous fears? so 
 And madly play with my forefathers' joints'? 
 And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his 
 
 shroud ? 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 And, in this rage, with some great kinsmau'.s 
 bone, 53 
 
 As with a club, dash out my desjierate brains? 
 O, look ! methinks I see my cousin's ghost 
 Seekmg out Eomeo, that did spit his body 
 Upon a rapier's point : — stay, Tybalt, stay I — 
 Romeo ! I come. This do I drink to thee. 
 
 [S/ic drinks from the vial, then throws 
 herself upon the bed. 
 
 Q Scene IV. Verona. Hall in Ca^^ulefs house.) 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse. i 
 
 > 
 
 La. Cap. Hold, take these keys, and fetch ^ 
 more spices, nurse. / 
 
 Xurse. They call for dates and quinces in^ 
 the pastry.' > 
 
 Enter Capulet. ^ 
 
 Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock; 
 
 hath crow'd, 
 
 The curfew-bell hath rung, 't is three o'clock: — 
 
 Look to the bak'd meats, good Angelica : ^ 
 
 Spare not for cost. K 
 
 Nurse. Go, you cot-quean,^ go, ^ 
 
 Get you to bed ; faith, you '11 be sick to-morrow \ 
 
 For this night's watching. ^ 
 
 Cap. No, not a whit : what ! I have watch'd ; 
 
 ere now 9j 
 
 All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. J 
 
 La. Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt^; 
 
 in your time ; ', 
 
 But I will watch you from such watching; 
 
 now. J 
 
 \_Exeunt Lady Capidet and Nurse. \ 
 
 Cap. A jealous hood, a jealous hood ! 
 
 Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, 
 logs, and baskets. 
 
 Now, fellow, 
 
 What's there? ; 
 
 First Serv. Things for the cook, sir; but I) 
 
 know not what. < 
 
 Cap. Make haste, make haste. \_Exit First') 
 
 Serv.'\ Sirrah, fetch drier logs : ) 
 
 1 Pastry, the room where paste or pastry was made. 
 
 •■! Cot-quean, mollycoddle ; a mau who meddles with 
 women's business. 
 
 3 Mouse-hunt, a stoat; here used in the sense of a man 
 who runs after women. 
 
 995 15
 
 ACT IV. Hceue 4. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene a. 
 
 <Call Peter, he will show you where they are. 
 
 , Sec. tScrr. I have a head, sir, that will tiiul 
 out logs, 
 
 J And never trouble Peter for the matter. [Ex-it. 
 Cap. Mass, and well said ; a merry whore- 
 son, ha! 
 
 ^Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis 
 day : I'O 
 
 /The county will be here with music straight, 
 
 /For so he said he would : — 1 hear him near. — 
 
 ; [Music u-ithin. 
 
 ) Nurse! — Wife! — What, ho! — what, nurse, I 
 
 \ say! 
 
 > Re-enter Nurse. 
 
 I 
 
 )Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up ; 
 
 ; I '11 go and chat with Paris : — hie, make h;iste, 
 
 ; Make hjiste ; the bridegroom he is come al- 
 
 / ready : 
 
 ;Make haste, I say. [Exeunt. ] 
 
 Scene V. Verona. Juliets chamber: 
 morning. 
 
 Nurse. [Without^ Mistress! — what, mistress! 
 
 Enter Nurse. 
 
 Juliet ! fast, I wan-ant her, she : — 
 Why, lamb ! — why, lady ! — fie, you slug-a- 
 bed !— 
 Why, love, I say ! — madam ! sweet-heart 1 — 
 why, bride ! 
 J Q What, not a word? you take your penny- 
 ^ worths now ; 
 
 'f Sleep for a week ; for the next night, I war- 
 ^ rant, 
 
 I^The County Paris hath set up his rest, 
 ^That you shall rest but little. God forgive 
 
 me, ] 
 Marry, and amen ! how sound is she asleep ! 
 I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, 
 
 madam ! 
 
 ^Q Ay, let the county take you in your bed ; lo 
 
 '' He '11 fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be 1 ] 
 
 [ Undraics the curtains. 
 
 What, dress'd ! and in your clothes ! and down 
 
 again ! 
 I must needs wake you : Lady ! lady ! lady ! 
 Alas, ahis ! Help ! helj) ! my lady 's dead ! 
 O, well-a-day, that ever I was born !— 
 Some ajua vitce, ho ! — My lord ! my lady ! 
 226 
 
 Enter Lady Capulet. 
 
 La. Cap. What noise is here? 
 
 Nurse. O lamentable day ! 
 
 La. Cap. What is the matter? 
 
 Nurse. Look, look 1 O heavy day ! 
 
 La. Cap. me, O me !— My child, my only 
 life, 
 Pevive, look up, or I will die with thee I — 20 
 Help, help !— Call help. 
 
 Enter Capulet. 
 
 Cap. For shame, bring Juliet fuith ; her 
 
 lord is come. 
 Nurse. She 's dead, deceas'd, she 's dead ; 
 
 alack the day ! 
 La. Cap. Alack the day, she 's dead, she 'a 
 
 dead, she 's dead ! 
 Cap. Ha ! let me see her : — out, alas I she 's 
 cold; 
 Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff ; 
 Life and these lips have long been sejjarated: 
 Death lies on her like an untimely frost 
 Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. 
 Nurse. O lamentable day I 
 La. Cap. O woeful time I 30 
 
 Cap. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to 
 make me wail, 
 Ties up my tongiie, and will not let me s])eak. 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence and Paris, uith 
 Musicians. 
 
 Fri. L. Come, is the bride ready to go to 
 
 church ? 
 Cap. Eeady to go, but never to return. 
 QO son ! the night before thy wedding-day ) 
 Hath Death lain with thy wife : — see thert> she? 
 lies, \ 
 
 Flower as she was, deflowered by him. ]] ^ 
 
 Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir ; 
 My daughter he hath wedded : I will die, 
 And leave him all ; life, living, all is Death's. 40 
 Par. Have I thought long to see this morn- 
 ing's face, 
 And doth it give me such a sight as this? 
 La. Cap. Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, 
 hateful day ! 
 Most miserable hour that e'er time saw 
 In lasting labour of his pilgrimage ! 
 But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 But one thing to rejoice and solace in, 
 And cruel death hath catch'd it from my 
 sight I 
 
 J 13 Xurse. O woe 1 O woeful, woeful, woeful day ! 
 
 (Most lamentable day, most woeful day, 50 
 
 'That ever, ever, I did yet behold ! 
 
 <Oday: Oday! O day! O hateful day! 
 
 ^ Never was seen so black a day as this: 
 
 ''O woeful day! O woeful day! 
 
 ) Par. Beguil'd, divorced, wronged, spited, 
 
 I slain ! 
 
 <Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, 
 
 ' By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown I — 
 
 'O love ! O life ! — not life, but love in death ! 
 
 ( Cap. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, 
 
 \ kill'd ! 
 
 <| Uncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now 60 
 
 <To murder, murder our solemnity? — 
 
 <0 child! O child! — my soul, and not my 
 
 ^ child!— 
 
 ^Dead art thou, dead! Alack! my child is 
 
 ) dead ; 
 
 ^ And with my child my joys ai'e buiied. 3 
 
 i Fri. L. QPeace, ho, for shame ! confusion's 
 
 cure lives not 
 In these confusions. ] Heaven and yourself 
 Had part in this fair maid ; now heaven hath 
 
 all, 
 And all the better is it foi- the maid : 
 Your part in her you could not keep from 
 
 death. 
 But heaven keeps his pait in eternal life. ro 
 The most you sought was her promotion ; 
 For 't was your heaven she should be advanc'd : 
 And weep ye now, seeing she is advanc'd 
 Above the clouds, as high as heaven itseK? 
 
 ;Q0, in this love, you love your child so ill, 
 
 ;,That you run mad, seeing that she is well : 
 
 ; She 's not well married that lives married 
 
 > long ; 
 
 ^But she's best married that dies married 
 
 ' young. ] 
 
 Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
 On this fair corse ; and, as the custom is, so 
 In all her best array bear her to church : 
 Q For though fond nature bids us all lament, 
 
 'Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. ] 
 Cap. All things that we ordained festival, 
 Turn from their office to black funeral ; 
 Our instruments to melancholy bells ; 
 
 Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast ; 
 Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change ; 
 Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse ; 
 And all things change them to the contrary. 90 
 Fri. L. Sir, go you in; and, madam, go 
 with him ; 
 And go, Sir Paris ; — every one prepare 
 To follow this fair corse unto her grave : 
 The heavens do lour upon you for some ill ; 
 Move them no more by crossing their high 
 will. \_Exeunt Capulet, Lady Capulet, 
 
 Paris, and Friar. 
 \^ First Mies. Faith, we may put up our 
 pipes, and be gone. 
 
 jVitrse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up, 
 put up ; 
 For, well you knoAV, this is a pitiful case. 
 
 [F.vit. 
 
 First Mus, Ay, by my troth, the case may 
 
 be amended. loi 
 
 Enter Peter. 
 
 \ 
 
 Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, "Heart's ease,$ 
 Heart's ease : " O, an you will have me live, ; 
 play " Heart's ease." ^ ? 
 
 First Mus. Why " Heart's ease ? " ) 
 
 Pet. O, musicians, because my heart itself > 
 plays " My heart is full of woe : " O, play me ' 
 some merry dump,^ to comfort me. > 
 
 First Mus. Not a dump we ; 't is no time to^ 
 
 110 
 
 the^ 
 
 play now. 
 
 Pet. You will not, then? 
 
 Fi7-st Mus. No. 
 
 Pet. I will, then, give it you soundly. 
 
 First Mus. What will you give us? 
 
 Pet. No money, on my faith ; but 
 gleek,^ — I will give you the minstrel. 
 
 First Mus. Then will I give you the serv-^ 
 ing-creature. ^ 
 
 Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creature's^ 
 dagger on your pate. I will cany no crotch- ; 
 ets: I'll re* you, I'll fa* you; do you note; 
 me? 121 > 
 
 First Mus. An you re us and fa us, you) 
 note us. ' 
 
 1 Heart's ease, the name of a popular tune. 
 - Dump, a mournful tune. 
 3 Glcek, a scoff, or successful retort. 
 * Re, fa, the notes D and F in the musical scale. 
 227
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 EOMEU AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 Sec. Mus. Pray yon, put up your dagger, 
 ^and put out your wit. 
 
 Pet. Then have at you with my wit ! I will 
 [dry-beat you with an iron wit, and put up my 
 ) iron dagger. Answer me like men : 
 / " When griping grief the heart doth wound, 
 ; And doleful dumps the mind oppre.s.s, 
 
 ) Then mu.sic with her silver sound," — 130 
 
 J why "silver sound?" why "music with her 
 'silver sound ? " What say yuu, Simon Catling ?i 
 ) • First Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath 
 /a sweet sound. 
 
 Pet. Pretty! — What say you, Hugh Re- 
 ! beck? 2 
 
 Sec. Mt(s. I say "silver sound," because 
 'musicians sound for silver. 
 
 Pet. Pretty tool — What say you, James ^ 
 Soundpost ? 
 
 Third J/kx. Faith, I know not what to$ 
 say. 140 p 
 
 Pet. O, I cry you mercy ; you are the singer 
 I will say for you. It is "music with her 5 
 silver sound," becausesuch fellows as you have^ 
 seldom gold for soimding : 
 
 " Then music with her silver sound, 
 
 With speedy help doth lend redrcs.s." 
 
 [Kvif. 
 
 First Mu.'i. What a i)estilent knave is thisJ 
 same! 
 
 Sec. Mus. Hang him, Jack! — Come, we'll) 
 in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay 5 
 d i nner. [Ex-c unt."^} 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. Mantua. A street. 
 Enter Romeo. 
 
 Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of 
 
 sleep. 
 My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: 
 My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne ; 
 And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit 
 Lifts me above the ground with cheerful 
 
 thoughts. 
 I dreamt my lady came and found me dead — 
 Strange di-eam, that gives a dead man leave 
 
 to think 1 — 
 And bi'eath'd such life with kisses in my lips. 
 That I reviv'd, and was an emj)eror. 
 Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd, lo 
 When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! 
 
 Enter Balthasar, hooted. 
 
 News from Verona !— How^ now, Balthasfu- ! 
 Dost thou not biing me letters from the friar? 
 How doth my lady? Is my father well i 
 How doth my lady ? that I ask again ; 
 For nothing can be ill, if she be well. 
 
 Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill : 
 Her body sleeps in Capels' monument, 
 
 1 Catling, a lute-string made of catgut. 
 - Rebeck, a musical instrument, with two or three strings, 
 coraewhat like a fiddle. 
 
 228 
 
 And her immortal part with angels lives. 
 I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, 20 
 And presently took post to tell it you : 
 ( ), ])ardon me for bringing these ill news, 
 Since you did leave it for my office, sir. 
 Rom. Is it even so? 
 
 [He pauses, overcome hy his grief. 
 
 — then I defy you, stars ! 
 
 Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and 
 
 paper. 
 And hire post-horses ; I will hence to-night. 
 Bal. I do beseech you, sir, have i)atience : 
 Your looks are pale and wild, and do import 
 Some misadventure. 
 
 Rom. Tush I thou art deceiv'd : 
 
 Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do : 30 
 Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? 
 Bal. No, my good lord. 
 Rom. No matter : get thee gone, 
 
 And hire those horses; I'll be with thee 
 .straight. [Exit Baltltasar. 
 
 Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. 
 Let 's see for means : — O mischief ! thou art 
 
 swift 
 To enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! 
 I do remember an apothecary, — 
 And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I 
 
 noted 
 In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1. 
 
 Culling of simples ; meagre were his looks, 40 
 Shai'p misery had worn him to the bones : ' 
 And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, 
 An alligator stuff d, and other skins 
 Of ill-shap'd fishes ; and about his shelves 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes. 
 
 Green eai-then pots, bladders, and musty seeds, 
 Remnants of packthread and old cakes of 
 
 roses, 
 Were thinly scattered, to make up a show. 
 Noting this penury, to myself I said — 
 "An if a man tlid need a poison now, r>o 
 
 Rom. I do remember an apothecary. 
 
 Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 51 
 Here hves a caitiif wretch would sell it him." 
 O, this same thought did but forerun my need ; 
 And this same needy man must sell it me. 
 As I remember, this should be the house : 
 Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.— 
 What, ho ! apothecary I 
 
 U/iter Apothecary. 
 
 Ap. Who calls so loud I 
 
 Rom. Come hither, man. I see that thou 
 art poor ; 
 Hold, there is forty ducats ; let me have 
 A dram of poison ; such soon-speeding gear go 
 As will disperse itself through all the veins, 
 That the life-weary taker may fall dead ; 
 
 ml 
 
 QAnd that the trunk may be discharg'd of/ 
 
 breath 
 As violently as hasty powder fir'd 
 Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. ] 
 Ap. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's 
 
 law 
 Is death to any he that utters them. 
 
 Rom. Art thou so bai'e, and full of wi-etched- 
 
 ness. 
 And f ear'st to die ? famine is in thy cheeks. 
 Need and oppression stareth in thine eyes, :o 
 Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; 
 Tbe world is not thy friend, nor the world's 
 
 law; 
 The world affords no law to make thee rich ; 
 Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 
 229
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene ,;. 
 
 A/). My poverty, but not my will, consents. 
 
 Jiom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 
 
 Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
 
 And drink it off; and, if you had the strength 
 
 Of twenty men, it would dispatch you stJ-aight. 
 
 Horn. There is thy gold, worse poison to 
 
 men's souls, so 
 
 Doing more muiders in this loathsome world, 
 
 Than these poor comijounils that thou mayst 
 
 not sell. 
 I sell thee poison; thou h:tst sold me none. 
 Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. 
 
 [A'rtV Apothecary. 
 Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me 
 To Juliet's grave, for there must I use thee. 
 
 [Kdt. 
 
 Scene II. Verona. T/ie Friar's cell. 
 
 Friar John, nithont. 
 Fri. J. Holy Franciscan friar I brother, ho ! 
 
 Enter Friar Laurence. 
 
 Fri. L. This same should be the voice of 
 Friar John. 
 
 Enter Friar John. 
 
 "Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? 
 Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. 
 
 Fri. J. Going to find a bare-foot brother out. 
 One of our ordei", to associate me. 
 Here in this city visiting the sick. 
 And finding him, the searchers of the town, 
 Su.specting that we both were in a house 
 Where the infectious pestilence did reign, lo 
 Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; 
 So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. 
 
 Fri. L. Who bare my letter, then, to Ro- 
 meo? 
 
 Fri. J. I could not send it, — here it is 
 again, — 
 Nor get a messenger to bi'ing it thee. 
 So fearful were they of infection. 
 
 Fri. L. Unhappy fortune ! by my brother- 
 hood, 
 The letter was not nice, but full of charge, 
 Of dear import; and the neglecting it 
 May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; 20 
 Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight 
 Unto my cell. 
 
 230 
 
 Fri. J. Brother, I '11 go and bring it thee. 
 
 [E.vit. 
 
 Fri. L. Now must I to the monument lilone; 
 Within this three hours will fair Juliet wake: 
 She will beahrew me much, that Romeo 25 
 Hath had no notice of these accidents ; 
 But I wiU write again to Mantua, 
 And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; — 
 Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb I 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene III. Verona. A churchijard., v:ith the 
 tomb of the Capulets. 
 
 Enter Paris, aiul his Page hearing flowers and 
 a torch. 
 
 Par. Give me thy torch, Imy: hence, and 
 stand aloof; — 
 Yet put it out, for I would not be .seen. 
 Lender yond yew-trees lay thee all along, 
 Holding thine ear clo.se to the hollow ground; 
 So shall no foot upon the chuichyard tread. 
 Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves. 
 But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to nu', 
 As signal that thou hear'st some thingapproarli. 
 Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. 
 Page. [^AsiJe^ I am alm(.)st afraid to stand 
 alone lo 
 
 Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. 
 
 [Rrtire.'<. 
 Par. Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal 
 bed I strew, — 
 O woe I thy canopy is dust and stones; — 
 Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, 
 Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by 
 moans: 
 The obsequies that I for thee will kee]> 
 Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep, 
 [y/ic Page v:Iri sties. 
 The boy gives warning something doth ap- 
 proach. 
 What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, 
 To cross my obsequies and true love's rite ? 20 
 What, with a torch I — muflSe me, night, awhile. 
 
 \^Retires. 
 
 Enter Romeo, and Balthasar u-ith a torch., 
 mattock, Ac. 
 
 Rom. Give me that mattock and the wreiich- 
 ing-iron.
 
 ACT V. Scene 3, 
 
 EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 Hold, take this letter; early in the morning 
 See thou deliver it to my lord and father. 24 
 Give me the light. Upon thy life, I charge 
 
 thee, 
 Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, 
 And do not interrupt me in my course. 
 
 Why I descend into this bed of death, 
 
 Is partly to behold my lady's face; 2a 
 
 But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger 
 
 A precious ring; a ring that I must use 
 
 In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: 
 
 But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 
 
 Far. O, I am slam ! 
 
 In what I fin'ther shall intend to do. 
 
 By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint, 
 
 And strew this hungiy churchyard with thy 
 
 limbs. 
 The time and my intents are savage-wild ; 
 More fierce, and more inexorable far, 
 Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. 39 
 
 Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
 Rom. So shalt thou show me friendship. 
 Take thou that : 
 Live, and be prosperou.s; and farewell, good 
 fellow. 
 Bah \^Aside\ For all this siime, I "11 hide me 
 hereabout: 
 His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. 
 
 [^lietires. 
 
 Rom. Thou detestable maw, tliou womb < f 
 death, 40 
 
 Gorg'd with the dearest morsel of the earth, 
 Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, 
 
 {^Breaking open the door of the tomb. 
 And, in desjiite, I '11 cram thee with more 
 food! 
 Par. QThis is that banish'd haughty Mon-^ 
 tague, ^ 
 
 That murder'd my love's cousin, with which ^ 
 grief, 50 ' 
 
 It is supposed, the fair creature died; ^ 
 
 And here is come to do some villainous shame J 
 To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.] c 
 
 [Comes forward. 
 Stop thy unhallowed toil, vile Montague! 
 231
 
 ACT V. Sceue 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 Can vensreancj be pursuVl further than death? 
 CondemntMl villain, I do apprehend thee: 50 
 Obey, and go with uie; for thou must die. 
 Rom. I must indeed; and therefore came I 
 hither. 
 Good gentle youth, tempt not a de.sperate man; 
 Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these 
 gone; tJO 
 
 Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth. 
 Put not another sin upon my head. 
 By urging me to fury: — O, Ije gone ! 
 By heaven, I love thee better than myself; 
 For I come hither arm'd against myself: 
 Stay not; — be gone; — live, and hereafter say, 
 A madman's mercy bade thee run away. 
 
 Par. I do defy thy conjurations. 
 And apprehend thee for a felon here. 
 
 Rom. AVilt thou provoke me? then have at 
 thee, boy! {They fight. 70 
 
 I'age. O Lord, they fight ! I will go call the 
 watch. [Exit. 
 
 Par. O, I am slain! [FaU.<<] If thou be 
 merciful, 
 Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. {Dirx. 
 Rom. In faith, I will. — Let me peruse this 
 face. 
 Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris ! 
 What .said my man, when my betossed soul 
 Did not attend him as we rode? I think 
 He told me Paris should have married Juliet : 
 Said he not so? or did I dream it so? 
 Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, so 
 To think it was so? O, give me thy hand. 
 One writ with me in sour misfortune's book ! 
 I '11 bury thee in a triumphant grave ; 
 QA grave? O, no! a lantern,^ slaughter'd 
 
 youth. 
 For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 
 This vavdt a feasting {n'&sence^ full of light. 
 Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. 
 How oft when men are at the point of death 
 Have they been merry ! which their keepers 
 
 call 
 
 A lightning before death : O, how may I 90 
 
 $Call this a lightning?] {He opens the doors 
 
 of the tomb, and lays Paris toithin the 
 
 doors: then approaches the bier on which 
 
 1 Lantern, a turret full of windows, giving light to a 
 catliedral or other building. 
 * Presence, i.e. presence-chamber, or hall of audience. 
 
 232 
 
 Jidiet is seen lying."] (), my love ! my 
 
 wife ! 01 
 
 Death, that hath suck'tl the honey of thy 
 
 breath. 
 Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: 
 Thou art not conquer'd ; beauty's ensign yet 
 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
 And death's pale flag is not advanced there. 
 Tybalt, ly'st th6u there in thy bloody sheet? 
 O, what more favour can I do to thee, 
 Than with that hand that cut thy youth in 
 
 twain, 
 To sunder his that was thine enemy ? lOO 
 
 Forgive me, cousin ! Ah, dear Juliet, 
 Why art thou yet so fair ? [[ shall I believe f 
 That unsubstantial death is amorous; I 
 
 And that the lean abhorred monster keeps \ 
 Thee here in dark to be his paramour? ^ 
 
 For fear of that, I still will stay with thee: < 
 And never from this palace of dim night ^ 
 
 Dejiart again : here, here will I remain ^ 
 
 With worms that are thy chamber-maids;] O, I 
 
 here 
 Will I set up my everlasting rest; no 
 
 And shake the yoke of inau.spicious stars 
 From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look 
 
 your last ! 
 Arms, take your last embrace ! and, lijjs, O 
 
 you 
 The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
 A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! — 
 Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury giude ! 
 Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
 The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! 
 Here 's to my love ! {Drinks] — O true apothe- 
 cary 1 119 
 Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. 
 
 {Dies. 
 
 Enter, at the other end of the churchyard.. Friar 
 Laurence, with a lantern, crow, and spade. 
 
 Fri. L. Saint Francis be my speed! how 
 oft to-night 
 Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! — 
 C Who's there? \ 
 
 Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that' 
 knows you well. < 
 
 Fri. L. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good< 
 my friend, < 
 
 What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light f
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 ;To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, 1215 
 
 } It burnetii in the Capels' monument. 
 
 ' Bal. It doth so, holy sir; and there 's my 
 
 > master, 
 
 ) One that you love. 
 
 > Fri. L. Who is it i 
 
 I Bal. Romeo. 
 \ Fri. L. How long hath he been there? 
 
 \ Bal. Full half an hour. 130 
 
 < Fri. L. Go with me to the vault. 
 
 ( Bal. I dare not, sir : 
 
 (•My master knows not but I am gone hence; 
 (And fearfully did menace me with death, 
 5 If I did stay to look on his intents. 
 ^ Fri. L. Stay, then; I'll go alone. — Fear 
 
 < comes upon me; 
 
 ^O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. 
 
 ) Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree 
 
 \ here, 
 
 I I dreamt my master and another fought, 
 And that my master slew him. 
 
 Fri. L. Romeo! — 
 
 [Advances. ] 
 Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains 
 The stony entrance of this sepulchi-e? i4i 
 
 What mean these masterless and gory swords 
 To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? 
 
 [Enters the tomb. 
 Romeo ! O, pale I — Who else I what, Paris too? 
 And steep'd in blood? Ah,whatan unkind hour 
 Is guilty of this lamentable chance I — 
 The lady stirs. [Juliet icalces. 
 
 Jul. O comfortable friar ! where 's my lord ? 
 I do remember well where I should be, 
 And there I am: — Where is my Romeo? 1.30 
 
 [lA'oise within. 
 Fri. L. I hear some noise. — Lady, come 
 from that nest 
 Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep : 
 A greater power than we can contradict 
 Hath thwarted our intents; come, come away. 
 Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; 
 ) Q And Paris too ! — come, I '11 dispose of thee 
 \ Among a sisterhood of holy nuns : ] 
 Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; 
 Come, go, good Jidiet, — [Noise af/ain] I dai'e 
 no longer stay. [Exit Fri. L. ij9 
 
 Jul. Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. 
 What's here? a cup, clos'd in my true love's 
 hand? 
 
 Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end : — 
 O churl ! drink all; and leave no friendly drop 
 To help me after? — I will kiss thy lips; 
 Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, 
 To make me die with a restorative. [Kisses him.'] 
 Thy lips ai'e waim. ler 
 
 First Watch. [ Within] Lead, boy : which 
 way? 
 
 Fri. L. Saiut Fraucis be my speed! 
 
 Jul. Yea, noise? then I '11 be brief. O happy 
 
 dagger ! [Snatching Romeo's dagger. 
 
 This is thy sheath. [Stabs herself]; there rest, 
 
 and let me die. 170 
 
 [Fcdls on Jlomeo's body, and dies. 
 
 Enter Watch, tcith the Page 0/ Paris. 
 
 Page. This is the place; there, where the 
 
 torch doth burn. 
 First Watch. The ground is bloody; search 
 about the churchyard : 
 Go, some of you, whoe'er you tind attach. 
 
 [Exeunt some of the Watch. 
 233
 
 ACT V. Scene :l. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 3. 
 
 ^ Q Pitiful sight 1 here lies the county slain; 174 
 ?An(l Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead, 
 ^Who here hath lain these two days buried. — 
 I Go, tell the prince : run to the Capulets : 
 
 < Raise up the Montagues: some others search: — 
 (, [Kveunt others of the Watch. 
 ', We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ; 
 ^But the true ground of all these piteous woes 
 <We cannot without circmnstance descry, isi 
 
 < Re-enter some of the Watch, with Balthasar. 
 
 < Sec. Watch. Here's Romeo's man; we found 
 
 < him in the churchyard. 
 
 < First Watch. Hold him in safety, till the 
 
 < prince come hither. 
 
 Re-enter others (f the Watch, icith Fkiar 
 Laurence. 
 
 S Third Watch. Here is a friar, that trenil)les, 
 
 ' .sighs, and weeps : 
 
 'We took this mattock and this spade from him. 
 
 As he was coming fri»ni this churchyard side. 
 
 > First Watch. A gi'eat suspicion : stay the 
 
 > friar too.] 
 
 /'Jnter the Prince and Attendants. 
 
 Priiice. What misadventure is so early up, 
 That c.dls our j)erson from ou)- morning's rest? 
 
 Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and others. 
 
 ( 'aj>. AVhat .should it l)e, that they so shriek 
 
 abroad I it>0 
 
 La. Cap. The people in the sti-eet cry 
 
 "Romeo," 
 
 Some "Juliet," and some "Paris;" and all run. 
 
 With open outcry, tf)ward our monument. 
 
 I'nnce. What fear is this which stiirtles in 
 
 your ears? 
 Fir.<it Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county 
 Paris slain; 
 And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, 
 Warm and new kill'd. 
 
 I'rince. Search, seek, and know how this foul 
 murder comes. [E.veinit others of the Watch. 
 ) ^ Fir.'^t Watch. Here is a friar, and slaugh- 
 ? ter'd Romeo's man ; 
 
 With instruments upon them, fit to open 200 
 These dead men's tombs. 
 234 
 
 Cap. O heavens! — O wife, look how our) 
 
 daughter bleeds I 
 
 This dagger hath mistii'en, — for, lo, his house''! 
 Is empty on the back of Montague, — ' 
 
 And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom I ] ' 
 La. Cap. O me! this sight of death is as a 
 bell, 
 That warns my old age to a sepulchre. 
 
 Enter Montague and others. 
 
 Prince. Come, Montague; for thou art early 
 up, 
 To see thy son and heir more early down. 
 Jlon. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to- 
 night ; 210 
 Grief of my son's exile hath sto]i]i"d her 
 
 breath : 
 What further woe conspires against mine age? 
 I'rince. Look, and thou shalt see. 
 Mon. O thou untaught I what maniu'is i« in 
 this, 
 To press before thy father to a grave ? 
 
 Prince. Seal up the mouth of outrage for a 
 while, 
 Till we can clear these ambiguities. 
 And know their sj)ring, their head, their true 
 
 descent ; 
 And then will I be general of your woes, 
 And lead you even to death: meantime for- 
 bear, 220 
 And let mischance be slave to patience. 
 Q Bring forth tlie parties of suspicion. 
 
 Fri. X. I am the greatest, able to do least, , 
 Yet most susjiected, as the time and place 
 Doth make against me, of this direful murder; ' 
 And here I stand, both to impeach and purge/ 
 Myself condemned and myself excus'd. / 
 
 I'rince. Then say at once what thou dost 
 know in this. / 
 
 Fri. L. I will be brief, for my short date of' 
 breath / 
 
 Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 230 
 
 Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Ju-i 
 
 Uet; 
 
 And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful) 
 
 wife : \ 
 
 I married themj and their stol'n marriage-) 
 
 day i 
 
 1 flu home, i.e. the dagrger's sheatli.
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 Was Tybalt's dooms -day, whose initimely 
 death 234 
 
 Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this 
 city; 
 
 For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pin'd. 
 
 You, to remove that siege of grief from her, 
 
 Betroth'd and would have married her per- 
 force 
 
 To County Paris: then comes she to me, 
 
 And, with wild looks, bid me devise some 
 mean 240 
 
 To rid her from this second marriage, 
 Or in my cell there would she kill heiself. 
 Then gave I her, so tutor'd l)y my art, 
 A sleeping potion ; which so took ett'ect ' 
 
 As I intended, for it wrought on her '. 
 
 The form of death : meantime I wiit to 
 Romeo, 
 
 prince. Fur never was a storj' of more woe 
 Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. 
 
 That he should hither come as this dire night, 
 To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, 
 Being the time the potion's force should 
 
 cease. 
 But he which bore my letter, Friar John, 200 
 ' Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight 
 Return'd my letter back. Then all alone 
 < At the prefixed hour of her waking, 
 (Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; 
 ^Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, 
 ^Till I conveniently coidd send to Romeo: 
 ^But when I came, sonje minute ei'e the time 
 $Of her awaking, here untimely lay 
 
 The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. ) 
 
 She wakes; and I entreated hei' come forth, 2(>0 
 And bear this work of heaven with patience : 
 But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; 
 And she, too desperate, would not go with me. 
 But, as it seems, did violence on herself. 
 All this I know ; and to the marriage 
 Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this j 
 
 Miscarried by my fault, let my old life ■ 
 
 Be sacrific'd, some hour before his time, 
 Unto the rigour of severest law. 
 
 Prince. We still have known thee for a holy ^ 
 man. — 270 ', 
 
 23o
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3, 
 
 Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in 
 
 this? 271 
 
 Bal. I brought my master news of Juliet's 
 
 death ; 
 And then in post he came from Mantua 
 To this same phice, to this same monimient. 
 This letter he early bid me give his father, 
 And threaten'd me with death, going in the 
 
 vault, 
 If I departed not and left liira there. 
 
 Prince. (Jive nie the k'tter;— I will look on 
 
 it.— 
 Where is the county's i)age, that rais'd the 
 
 watch >. — 
 Sirrah, what made your master in this place ? 2so 
 Page. lie came with flowers to strew his 
 
 lady's grave; 
 And bid me stand aluof, and so I did : 
 Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; 
 And by and by my master diew on him ; 
 And then I ran away to call the watch. 
 
 Prince. This letter doth make good the 
 
 friai"'s woids, 
 Their course of love, the tidings of her death : 
 And here he writes that he did buy a poison 
 Of a poor 'pothecary, and theiewithal 
 " 23(3 
 
 Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. 
 Where be these enemies? — Capulet! — Monta- 
 gue I — 291 
 (See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, 
 That heaven finds means to kill your joys with 
 
 love I 
 And I, for winking at your discords too, 
 Have lost a brace of kinsmen : — all are punish'd. 
 Cap. O brothel' Montague, give me thy hand : 
 This is my daughtei''s jointure, for no more 
 Can I demand. 
 
 Mon. But 1 can give thee more : 
 
 For I will raise her statue in pure gold ; 
 That while Verona by that name is known, aoo 
 There shall no figure at such rate be set 
 As tliat of true and faithful Juliet. 
 
 Cap. As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie; 
 Poor sacrifices of our enmity I 
 Prince. A glooming ])eace this morning with 
 
 it biings ; 
 
 The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: 
 
 (to hence, to h;ive more talk of these s<id 
 
 things; 
 
 Some shall be ])aidon'd, and some punished:] 
 
 For never was a story of more woe :i09 
 
 Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. {[Jjceunt.
 
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ^' ^ ^ W-:. NORTHERN ITALY 
 
 ..;\_ English Miles 
 
 o 20 40 60 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 1. This is omitted in Ff. In Qq. it is given to Chorus, 
 that is to say, to tlie same player who spealcs the Chorus 
 at the end of act i. After that, the Chorus, a relic of the 
 old-fasliioned plays before .Shakespeare's time, is dropped. 
 Some commentators snppose this prologue was not writ- 
 ten by .Shakespeare. It is possible he found it in the 
 older play on this subject; but as it is inserted in Q 2 we 
 may presume, if he did not write it, he at least adapted 
 it. Its omis.?ion in the Folio shows how thoroughly that 
 edition represents the then stage version of Shakespeare's 
 iday: it would naturally be omitted by the actors, as un- 
 necessarily lengthening a play already quite long enough. 
 
 2. Line 12: Is now the TWO hours' traffic of our stage. — 
 Compare prologue to Henry V'lll. lines 9-13: 
 
 Those tliat come to see 
 Only a show or two, and so agree 
 The play may pass, if they be still and willing', 
 I'll undertake may see away their shilling 
 Richly in t-wp short /tours. 
 
 It is not easy to see how Eomeo and Juliet could be 
 played in the two hours without omitting a great deal. 
 
 ACT I. SCENK 1. 
 
 3. Lines 1, 2: u-c'll not c.\RRY COALS.— This expression 
 occurs very frequently in all our old dramatists, and in 
 other writers down to the end of the 17th century. In 
 Grim the Collier of Croydon, Clack the Miller says to 
 Grim, " Carry coals at a collier's hands! If I do let my 
 
 mill be drowned up in water and I hanged in the roof" 
 (Dodsley, vol. viii. p. 417). It was part of the duty of the 
 lowest menials of the household to " carry coals" to the 
 kitchen; "hence," says Gifford (Ben Jonson's Works, vol. 
 ii. p. 168), "they were called blackguards," a term since 
 become sufficiently familiar, and never properly ex- 
 plained. According to this explanation, "one who car- 
 ried no coals" would mean one of too i-roud a disposition 
 to stoop to any low drudgery. It does not seem to me the 
 explanation is very clear. Cotgrave, under teste, trans- 
 lates "II a du feu en la teste," "He is very cholerick, 
 furious, or courageous; he will carry no coales." Is it 
 possible that this expression may be connected with that 
 used in Proverbs xxv. 22, and in Romans xii. 20, " To heap 
 coals of Are on an enemy's head;" a man who would 
 carry no coals being one of so furious a temper, that no 
 patience or forbearance, on the part of his enemy, would 
 appease his anger? 
 
 4. Line 3: colliers. — These men, like coal-heavers in the 
 present day, were not in very good repute. The devil 
 was often compared to a collier. Compare: " 'tis not for 
 gravity to play at cherr3'-pit with Satan: hang him, foul 
 collier" (Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 130). 
 
 5. Line 27: / will be CRrEL with the waWs.— This is 
 the reading of Q. 4, Q. 5, neither of which is of any great 
 authority. Q. 1 omits this sentence. Q. 2, Q. 3, Ff. all 
 read civill or civil, which may, verj- possibly, be the right 
 reading; civil would mean "peaceful," in contradistinc- 
 tion to his being at irar with the men; the equivoque 
 being explained by what follows. 
 
 237
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 6. Line 37: here COMES two of the house of the 3[un- 
 tagues.— The disagreement between the verb and the 
 nominative is intentional It seems from a passage in 
 Gascoigne's Devise of a Masque, written for tlie Kiglit 
 Hon. Viscount Mountacute, 1575, quoted by Malone, tliat 
 the Montague family wore a token in their hats, in order 
 to distinguisli them from the Capcls or Capuletg. 
 
 7. Lines 48,49: / icill bite my thumb at them. — This 
 mode of insult has nothing to do witli what is called in 
 Italy "giving the fico." Cotgrave, as Singer pointed out, 
 describes it exactly under /aire la nique, . . . "to 
 threaten or detie, by putting the thuinhc naile into the 
 mouth, and with a jerke (from the upper teeth) make it 
 to knack." 
 
 8. Line 70: remember thy SWASHING blow.~Q. 2, Q. 3, 
 and Ff. read icashiiig; a reading justified, perhaps, by a 
 (luotation furnished by Dr. Brinsley Nicholson: "You 
 see my quarter statfe ... A icashing blow of this is as 
 good as a Laundresse, it will wuKh for the name sake." 
 It is probable that the word 7fn.ihi)tg, in the above passage, 
 is really meant for sicashing, and that the s is omitted 
 for the sake of the pun. 
 
 9. Line 81: Enter Capulet in hi^ gown.— Compare the 
 stage direction in Hamlet (Quarto 1603), iii. 4. 61, Enter 
 the ghost in his night gowne. It is early morning in this 
 scene; and Capulet conies out in what we should call his 
 dressing-gown. 
 
 10. Line 102: Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd 
 hate.—DeXms, has a note on this passage, explaining it 
 tlius: " Rust, through long years of peace, has eaten into 
 the partisans, just as hate has into the hearts of the rival 
 factions." 
 
 11. Line 109: To old Free-town, our common judgment 
 pJace.— Shakespeare got this word /'Vee-^oK'Ji from Artlmr 
 Brooke's poem, in which the castle of the Capulets is so 
 called (line 1974). It is a literal translation of Villa 
 I'ranca. 
 
 12. Line 119: 117(0, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in 
 scorn.— The bombastic tone of the speeches in this scene 
 is worth noting. Sliakespeare is here in his early imi- 
 tative vein. 
 
 13. Line 159: Or dedicate /jw beauty to THE SCN.— Qq. 
 and Ff. read the satne, meaning, I suppose, the air. The 
 emendation is Pope's, and is universally adopted. 
 
 14. Ij'ne 166: 7s the day so young?— In Ularston's Dutch 
 Courtezan, ii. 1, this expression is manifestly imitated: 
 
 The moynt is yet but youns^e. — Works, vol. ii. p. 124. 
 
 15. Line 182 et seq.— It has been pointed out by some 
 connnentators that the affected nature of Romeo's 
 speeches, in this scene, is in keeping with the spurious 
 n.Tture of his love for Rosaline. His language is very dif- 
 ferent when he is under the influence of his sincere pas- 
 sion for Juliet. In Groto's Hadriana, alluded to in the 
 Introduction, is a passage in the speech of Hadriana to 
 the Nurse, describing her love for Latino, the antithetical 
 cliaracter of which certainly resembles this and the fol- 
 lowing speech of Romeo (19G-200); but whether the re- 
 semblance is close enough to warrant the inference that 
 Shakespeare had Groto's lines, either in the original or in 
 
 2.38 
 
 a translation, in his mind when writing this scene, let the 
 reader determine for himself. The following is the pas- 
 sage from Groto admiralily translated by Mr. 1'. A. Daniel: 
 
 My sickness was a pleasure without joy; 
 
 A will embracing yet repelling still, 
 
 A care which nourisheth, and yet which slays, 
 
 A labour given by heaven as a rest. 
 
 A supreme good the source of every ill. 
 
 An extreme ill the root of every good, 
 
 A mortal wound inflicted by myself, 
 
 A golden snare in which myself I've catch'd, 
 
 A pleasant poison drank in at my eyes; 
 
 Together ending and beginning life. 
 
 A fever mixed with freezing and with heal, 
 
 A gall than honey and manna sweeter far, 
 
 A beauteous flame that burns yet not destroys. 
 
 An insupportable and lightsome yoke. 
 
 A happy suffering and a cherisht grief, 
 
 A death immortal brimming o'er with life. 
 
 A Hell that seems as 'twere a Paradise. 
 
 —Daniel's Komeo and Juliet, &c. (New Shak. Soc. 
 Series iii. No. 1, Introduction, p.xxx.). 
 
 16. Line 191 : Why such, BENVOLIO, is love's transgression. 
 — Be nvolio was first inserted byColIier. Keightley supplied 
 the remaining four syllables by gentle cousin. 
 
 17. Line 197: Being pvrg'd. — So all the old copies, and 
 correctly, I believe. Johnson suggested urg'd. Grant 
 White thinks Shakespeare had in his min<l the passage in 
 the Gospels (Mat. iii. 1'2), "whose fan is in his hand, and 
 he will tln-oiighly purge his floor." But except that 
 purge means in both passages "to purify," I cannot see 
 much connection between them. The meaning is clear 
 enough: "Love is obscured with the fume of sighs as a 
 fire is by smoke,— being jnirged, or purified of the fume 
 and of the smoke, both love and fire burn clear." 
 
 18. Line 217: From love's weak childish bow she Itves 
 UNHAJt.M'D. — Q. 1 reads, 'Gainst Cupid's childish bow she 
 Uces unharm'd. The other Qq. and Ff. as in text; except 
 that they have unchann'd, which Collier proposed to 
 alter to encharm'd, meaning that "she was magically 
 encharnied from love's bom Ijy chastity." The from, as 
 well as the 'gainst, certainly point to unharm'd as being 
 the right reatling; but it is possible Shakespeare wrote, 
 or intended to write, as Lettsom and Grant White have 
 suggested : 
 
 'Gainst love's weak childish bow she lives fiichann'd, 
 
 i.e. she was protected by a charm against love's arrows. 
 Steevens thinks that these speeches of Romeo about 
 Rosaline's iinperviousness to love's arrows, &c. were an 
 oblique compliment to Queen Elizalieth. Certainly, her 
 Majesty being at least over si.xty years old, and unmar- 
 ried, when this play was written, the compliments on her 
 celibacy were better timed than those on her beauty. 
 
 19. Line 222: with her dies beauty's store. — Qq. and Ff. 
 read with beauty dies her state, which would mean, I 
 suppose, that her chief wealth, being beauty, would die 
 with her; rather a commonplace sentiment. We have 
 followed, in the text, Theobald's generally accepted emen- 
 dation, which makes better sense, and expresses an idea 
 which seems a favourite one with Shakespeare. One ex- 
 ample will suffice: 
 
 For he, being dead, with him is beauty slain. 
 
 —Venus and Adonis. line lot?.
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 2. 
 
 Compare also Twelfth Night, i. 5. 259-261. It is plain 
 from the context that Romeo means to say that by re- 
 solving to remain chaste she will leave behind no inheritor 
 of her beauty. 
 
 20. Line 224: and in that sparing makes huge waste.— 
 An exactly parallel expression occurs in Sonnet i. line 12: 
 
 And, tender churl, inak'st luasU in nig^ardinj;. 
 
 21. Line 235: To call hers, exquisite, in question more. 
 — Tliis is generally explained " To call /lers (i.e. her beauty) 
 which is exquisite, the more into my remembrance." To 
 call in question does not here mean to doubt or dispute; 
 but, as Maloue says, "question riKans conversation." It 
 may be the right reading is, To call her exquisite, i.e. 
 her exquisiteness; the adjective being used as a substan- 
 tive. 
 
 22. Line 236: These happy MASKS.— The masks referred 
 to here are not the masks worn by the ladies among the 
 audience, as Steevens suggests, but the masks worn by 
 ladies habitually, apparently much as veils are, or were 
 worn in our time, partly to keep the sun off, and partly 
 to add tlie charm of mystery to the features. Compare 
 Love's Labour 's Lost, ii. 1. 124 : 
 
 Now fair befall your tnask) 
 
 23. Line 244: I'll pay that doctrine.— For this use of 
 doctrine as "instruction" or "teaching," compare Love's 
 Labour's Lost, iv. 3. 350: 
 
 From women's eyes this doctrine I derive. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 24. Line 9: She hath not seen the change of FOURTEEN 
 YEARS —In Brooke's Poem (line 1860), Capulet says of his 
 daughter : 
 
 Scarce saw she yet full xz'i yeres. 
 
 and in Painter's translation of the story "the Lord An- 
 tonio" (Capulet) speaks of Juliet as "not attayned to the 
 age of xviii yeares" (p. 121, 1. 25, Daniel's edn.). It is 
 possible tliat Shakespeare, copying Brooke, mistook the 
 ■xvi for xiv; but he may have reduced his heroine's age by 
 two years to make it correspond better to the Nurse's 
 allusion about the earthquake. 
 
 25. Line 15: She is the hopeful lady of my EARTH. — 
 This line is evidently corrupt; earth makes no sense, in 
 spite of Steevens' gallant attempt to e.xplain it as a galli- 
 cism =/iHe de terre, i.e. heiress. The line stands alone in 
 tliis speech as the only unrhymed one; and the repeti- 
 tion of earth, which occurs in the line above, is singularly 
 unmeaning, and looks very much like a printer's error. 
 Can the true reading be ee for eye ? It is an old form, 
 used by Gower, and is still in use in poetry; but I cannot 
 find it in Shakespeare. Skeat says, under eye, that 
 Chaucer uses the form yii, though the scribes commonly 
 write it eye. The hopeftd lady of my EYES, would 
 mean "the lady whom I look on with hope." Capulet 
 having no son, it was in Juliet that all his hopes of con- 
 tinuing his family must have centred. 
 
 26. Lines 26-28: 
 
 Such comfort, as do lusty YOUNG MEN feel 
 When icell-apparell'd April on the heel 
 Of limping winter treads. 
 
 Johnson proposed to alter yotmg men to yeomen, referring 
 to the pleasure with which farmers receive the spring. 
 Malone, most aptly, quotes: 
 
 V^hen /roiid-pigd April dressed in all his trim. 
 Hath put a spirit of youth in everything. 
 
 — Sonn. xcviii. 2, 3. 
 
 27. Lines 31-33: 
 
 And like her most whose merit most shall be: 
 Which, on more view, of trmny mine, being one. 
 May stand in number, though in reckoning none. 
 This passage has given rise to numerous emendations and 
 to an exhibition of verbal gymnastics very edifying. One 
 thing seems certain, that Shakespeare here refers to the 
 proverbial expression " one is no number." Compare: 
 
 Among a number one is reckon' d none. 
 
 — Sonn. cxxxvi. 18. 
 The reading of our text is that of Q 4, Q 5, differently 
 stopped; Q. 2, Q. 3, and Ff. all read "Which one;" Q. 1 
 Such amongst. The meaning, wliich is unnecessarily in- 
 volved by the affected mode of expression, is, "Which {i e. 
 the one whose merit most shall be), when you liave seen 
 more of her, my daughter, being one, may appear tlie 
 number one (in merit) of many, though one is reckoned 
 none." The close similarity of the expression in the 
 Sonnet, and that in the last line quoted, should be ob- 
 served. 
 
 28. Lines 52, 53: 
 
 Rom. Your pla intain-leaf is excellent for that. 
 Ben. For what, I pray thee f 
 Rom. For ymir broken shin. 
 
 Compare Love's Labour's Lost, iii. 1. 71-75. 
 
 29. Lines 67-75.— This we have printed in verse, as first 
 suggested by Capell. It is not necessary to suppose that, 
 as Capulet wrote out the list, it was in anything but prose; 
 but as Romeo reads it, he makes it into verse by putting 
 in a few epithets; this he does for a joke, 
 
 30. Line 73: My fair niece Rosaline. — From this it 
 would seem that Rosaline, Romeo's first love, was also a 
 Capulet, unless this is another Rosaline. If slie were of 
 his enemies' house, it might account for her coldness to 
 him. 
 
 31. Line 85: come and CRUSH a cup of trine. — This ex- 
 pression, which occurs frecjuently in tlie old plays, lias 
 been compared to the modern expression " to crack a 
 bottle of wine." No satisfactory attempt to explain it 
 seems to have been made. Brewer, in his Dictionary of 
 Phrase and Fable, says it is from the Italian crosciarc, 
 "to decant." This is one of Dr. Brewer's little jokes. 
 Crosciare means "to squash, ... to squeeze; but 
 properly to fall violently as doth a sudden storm of rain 
 or hail upon the tyles or slates of houses." — Florio (sub 
 voce). It is possible the phrase might have been suggested 
 by the idea of squeezing out the last drop. 
 
 32. Line 94: then turn tears to FIRE. — Most modern 
 editors, following Pope, change fire to fires for tlie sake 
 of the rhyme with liars. But Qq. Ff. all read fire; in- 
 stances of singular and phual words of the same termi- 
 nation being made to rliyme are not uncommon. Fires 
 is a much weaker expression than^re in this passage. 
 
 239
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 33. Line 99: Tut, you nair lu-r fair, none else being by. — 
 By strongly emphasising the Mr, which is evidently in- 
 tended, it is not necessary to repeat the Tut, as F. 2 does, 
 for the sake of the metre. 
 
 34. Line 102: lady-love.— Ml the old copies read ladies 
 love, which makes no sense, as it was Rosaline's beauty, 
 not her love, that was to be weighed "against some other 
 maid." 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 35. Line 4: God forbid!— The meaning of this expression 
 is not very clear. Staunton remarks this is "an exquisite 
 touch of nature. Tlie old nurse . . . uses lady-bird as a 
 term of endearment; but recollecting its application to a 
 female of loose manners, checks hcrseU;— God forbid .' her 
 darling should prove such a one ! " Dyce says Staunton 
 is altogether mistaken, and that all the Xurse means is 
 "God forbid that any accident should keep her away!" 
 Staunton's explanation certainly seems the more probable 
 one, and most consistent with the Nurse's character; but 
 except one passage from Fletcher's poems, quoted in 
 Halliwell (sub voce), I cannot find any instance of the 
 occurrence of the woid lady-bird in the sense referred to 
 by Staunton. 
 
 36. Line S et .sc^.— This speech of Lady Capulet, and the 
 speeches of tlie Nurse, we have printed as prose, following 
 all the old editions, in preference to the modern editors 
 who liave tried to make verse of wliat was surely never 
 intended for it. Why shouW Shake>peare be made to 
 violate every rule of rhythm and metre, for tlie sake of 
 trying to strain tliis conventional pmse into blank verse? 
 This is a case in which tlie authority of the old copies 
 should go for something. 
 
 37. Line 10: Lammas-tide.-Thut is, the first of August, 
 wlien offerings of the first-fruits of tlie harvest were for- 
 merly made. The derivation of the word is from A. Sax. 
 hlAf-maesse, hlam-macsse, i.e. loaf-mass, bread mass, or 
 bread-feast. A loaf was frequently offered in place of the 
 first-fruits, hence the name. 
 
 38. Line 25; 'Tis since the earthquake noiv eleven years. 
 — Mention has been made in the. Introduction (page 179), 
 of the use which has been made of this allusion of the 
 Nurse to an earthquake in attempting to fix the date of 
 tlie play. Hunter was the first to point out that tlie 
 reference was not to tlie petty trcniljling of the earth, felt 
 in London in lOSO; but to the terrible earthquake in Italy, 
 in 1590, which destroyed Ferrara. Staunton mentions a 
 small tract by Thomas Purfoote, in which the writer de- 
 scribes the destructive effects of that earthquake, which 
 began on Nov. 11th, 1570, and continued, at intervals, till 
 the 17th of the same month. It is quite possible Shake- 
 speare may have seen this tract. 
 
 39. Line 28: wormwood. —The Artemisia Absinthium, 
 from which absinthe is made. Halliwell quotes a pass- 
 age from C'awdray's Treasurie or Storehouse of Similies, 
 ICOO, in which this practice of putting wormwood on the 
 breast to wean children from sucking is mentioned, and 
 an edifying simile founded on it. 
 
 40. Line 31: nay, 1 do BEAR A BRAIN. — An expression 
 
 240 
 
 found, not unfrequently, in the old dramatists, e.g. in 
 Marston's Dutch ('ourtczan, ill. 1, "'tis 1 that must bear 
 a brain for all" (Works, vol. ii. p. 155). 
 
 41. Line 38: she could stand iiigh-LOSE.— The two first 
 Quartos preserve this old-fashioned word. Q. 3, Q. 4, ami 
 Ff. all read alone. Compare Middleton's Blurt, Master 
 Constable (ii. 2), "when I could not stand «' high lone 
 without I held by a thing" (Works, vol. i. p. 202). It 
 seems generally to have been used in the form of a high 
 or a hie lone. Hence, perhaps, in Q. 3 we find a lone 
 written as two words. 
 
 42. Line 76: he's a MAN ciF wax. — This is a complimen- 
 tary, not, as one would think, a contemptuous expression. 
 The following passage in Field's A Woman is a Weather- 
 cock, i. 2, illustrates its meaning: 
 
 Why, boy, his [resence woulJ enkindle sin. 
 
 O foot, O leg. hand, O body! face! 
 By Jove, it is a little »iaii cftiax. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. xi. p. 19. 
 
 43. Line 83: Examine pivri/ MARRIED lineament— Q. 2 
 alone reads married: all the rest read severall, which, fol- 
 lowing every, is decidedly cacophonous, besides being 
 commonplace. Married liere means "harmoniously 
 united : " it is used in a very similar sense in the Sonnets: 
 
 If llie true concord r-f well-tuned sounds. 
 
 By unions viarried, do offend thine ear. — viii. 5, 6. 
 
 44. Line SO: in the MARGENT of his eyes. See Love's 
 Labour 's Lost. Note 50. 
 
 45. Line 89: The fish lives in the SEA.— Mason proposed 
 to read, "in the shell," which certainly makes the passage 
 apparently less obscure. Steevcns explains it that the fish 
 is not yet caught whose skin is to supply the cover of the 
 book. A wife is called a. feme covert in legal phraseology. 
 Fish-skin covers were used for books. The whole speech 
 is ridiculously affected .ind obscure. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 46. Line 7: nor no 10 ith out-book prologue. — The whole 
 of this speech, as well as Romeo's which precedes it, re- 
 fers to the custom of a party of maskers being introduced 
 by one of their party speaking a written, or unwritten 
 speech by way of prologue. An instance of such a with- 
 out-book iirolorjuc is that wliich Moth attempts to speak 
 for the Masque of the Russians in Love's Labour 's Lost, 
 v. 2. 158-173. Lines 7, 8 are found only in Q. 1. 
 
 47. Line 38: I'll be a candle-Holder and look on.— 
 Steevens quotes fi-om R^ay's Proverbial Sentences, "A good 
 candle holder proves a good gamester," i.e. one who can 
 look on at gaming makes a good player— because, pre- 
 sumably, he is cool, and can keep his wits about him. In 
 Alfred De Musset's Comedies et Proverbes, vol. ii. is a 
 comedy in two acts, called " Le Chandelier," which suf- 
 ficiently explains what a candle-holder came to mean. 
 
 48. Line 40: Tut, dun 's the mouse, the constable's own 
 word. — There is some allusion here which has not yet 
 been explained. Dun 's the mouse is a phrase found in 
 otlier plays of this period. In "The Two Merry Milk-
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 maids, or the Best Words Wear the Garland, a Comedy 
 by J. C." 1620, we find the following passage (1. 2): 
 
 Dor. Is't dontf Jul. If my consent will do't! 'tis. Dor. Why, 
 then, 't is done, and dun 's the mouse, and undone all the Courtiers. 
 
 Here we have tlie same play on the words done and dun. 
 It is just possil)le that this phrase may have been used by 
 tlie Constable when he was induced, by the usual argu- 
 ment, not to see what was going on. Dun means dark; 
 and, as mice come out at night, it may have meant no 
 more than " All right, I don't see you." Mouse, was used 
 conmionly as a term of endearment; perhaps this sense of 
 the word may help us to understand the original meaning 
 of the phrase. 
 
 49 Line 41: // thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the 
 mire. —In a note on Ben Jonson's Masque of Christmas, 
 Gifford gives an explanation of the game here alluded to. 
 which, strii)ped of its verbiage, amounts to this:— A log 
 of wood, called Dun the cart horse, is brought into the 
 middle of the room, some one cries out, " Dtni is stride in 
 the mire!" Two of the players come forward, and, with or 
 without ropes, commence to try to drag it out; they pre- 
 tend to be unable to do so, and call for help; some of the 
 others join them, and make awkward attempts to draw 
 Bun out of the mire, in the course of which the log is 
 made to fall on the toes of some of the players. Gifford 
 says he "often played at this game;" he was a simple- 
 minded man, and we are bound to believe him. 
 
 50. Line 5-3: Queen Mab. — This is the first mention of 
 Queen Mab, as the Fairy Queen, that has been discovered. 
 The name was at first supposed to liave been derived 
 from Habundia, otherwise Dame Abunde or Habunde; but 
 ilr. W. J. Thoms (Tlnee Notelets on Shakespeare, 1S65) 
 clearly proves that .Mab is a name of Celtic derivation, 
 Mabh being the title of the chief of the Irish fairies. "Mab 
 both in AVelsh and in tlie kindred dialects of Brittany 
 signifies a child or infant," and therefore is a name most 
 applicable to the diminutive sovereign described by Mer- 
 cutio. (See Furness' note in his New Variorum edn. 
 Iliiiiieo and Juliet, pp. 61, 62.) 
 
 51. Lines 65, 66: 
 
 Not half so big as a round little %vorm 
 Pride' d from the lazy finger of a maid. 
 Nares quotes, under Jdle Worms: 
 
 Keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the fdi'e 
 If 'off us ill thy Jinget's' ends. 
 — Beaum. and Fl. Woman Hater, iii. i, Works, vol. ii. pp. 437, J38. 
 
 Wliat these idle worms really were, or what they were 
 supposed to l)e, seems a mystery. The passage quoted 
 by Xares is the only one, besides that incur text, which I 
 have come across, wherein any reference is made to this 
 supposed parasite. I am informed by Dr. C. M. Campljell 
 tliat neither the Acne punctata or "maggot pimple," nor 
 the De)nodox FoUiculoruin (which is a common parasite 
 found in the sebaceous follicles of tlie skin), ever occurs 
 in i\\& fingers. lie also tells me that among the Lowland 
 Scotch the toothache is still called the worm; and that 
 in China the native cliarlatans still profess to cure tooth- 
 ache by extracting a live maggot from the hollow of a 
 decayed tooth. Dr Campbell thinks it probable that, in 
 order to encourage the belief that lazy fingers bred tvorms, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 the thrifty housewife might have smartly pricked the 
 finger of the maid who indulged in idleness, and pro- 
 duced a live maggot as coming from it. 
 
 52. Line 72 : O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on conrt'- 
 sies straight.— v. 2, F. 3, F. 4 read countries. Tyrwhitt con- 
 jectured counties; which may be the right reading, as we 
 have a courtier mentioned again below, line 77. 
 
 53. Line 77 : a courtier's nose. — Collier's 5IS. Notes 
 substituted counsellor's to avoid the repetition of courtier. 
 
 54. Line 89: Tliat plats the manes of horses in the night. 
 —Douce (p. 426) says that this alludes to a superstition 
 that "certain malignant spirits, in the likeness of wo- 
 men clothed in white, haunted stables in the night time 
 carrying tapers of wax, which they dropped on the horses' 
 manes, thinly plaiting them in inextricable knots." 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 55. Line 29: t^trn the tables i/j) — Steevens says "that 
 ancient tables were flat leaves, joined by hinges, and 
 placed on tressels. When they were to be removed, they 
 were therefore turned up." 
 
 56. Line 83: You will set COCK-A-HOOP.— Various ex- 
 planations have been given of this phrase. It is generally 
 admitted now to be a form of the French coq-d-huppe, i.e. 
 "a cock with his crest up." Cotgrave gives "to set cock- 
 a-hoope. Se goguer;" and under se gouguer, he gives 
 "to take his pleasure . . . set coclce-a-hoope, i\\vov! i\\e 
 house out at windowes." It is evident that the expres- 
 sion there intended is not cock-K-hoop in the sense gener- 
 ally accepted, but cock-o'S-hoop, which is thus explained 
 by Bailey: "Cock on IIoop [i.e. the spiggot or cock being 
 laid on the hoop and the barrel of ale stunn'd, i.e. drunk 
 without intermission] at the heighth of mirth and jollity." 
 No such expression as coq d hvppe is to be found in any 
 French dictionary that I have seen; while Cotgrave gives 
 as one sense of Hupe or Huppe, "The whoope or dung- 
 hill cocke." It may be observed that in the quotation 
 from Butler's Hudiiiras (part i. canto iii. 13, 14): 
 
 And having routed the whole troop. 
 With victory was cock-a-hoop, 
 
 wliich most dictionaries give as an explanation of the 
 use of this expression, the explanation given by Bailey 
 of cock-oti-hoop would make quite as goo<l sense, as that 
 given in all tlie dictionaries of cock-K-hoop {coq A huppe). 
 
 57. Lines 93, 94: 
 
 but this intrusion shall 
 Noiv seeming sweet convert to bitter gall, 
 i.e. "This intrusion shall convert what now seems sweet 
 to bitter gall." 
 
 58. Line 109: IKusing her — llalone says that Shake- 
 speare "here, without doubt, copied from the mode of 
 his own time; and kissing a lady in a public assembly, we 
 may conclude, was not thought indecorous." But it may 
 be doubted if every one was intended to see the kisses 
 interchanged between Romeo and Juliet on this occasion. 
 Grant White, in Shakespeare's Scholar, has a very sen- 
 sible note on this scene, in which he points out that, for 
 the most part, representatives of Juliet on the stage fail 
 
 241 16
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 to appreciate the archness of tlie <lialofnie here, and play 
 the (laughter of Cnpulet with too serious an air. It is 
 pretty eviilcnt that Juliet has no objection to Romeo's 
 practical illustration of the art of kissing. 
 
 59. Line 119: Shall have the CHINKS.— This expression, 
 which one would think was a modern vulgarism, only 
 occurs in this passage in Shakespeare. Tusser uses it, 
 " Have chinks in thy p\irse " (p. 191). 
 
 ACT II. Scene f. 
 
 60. Line 2: Turn back, DULL E.4RTII, and find thy centre 
 out— By dull earth, according to Clarke, Romeo means 
 "the earthlier portion of himself," i.e. I presume, his 
 body. Delias aptly iiuotes, apropos of the latter part uf 
 the line: 
 
 Poor soul, ehi centre of viy sin/iil earth. — Soiin. cxlvi. i. 
 
 61. Line 7: Hymoxirs'-inadman! Pasx ion-lover .'—These 
 four words are printed in Q<i. and Ff. as separate words; 
 as if Mercutio were invocating the impersonal and the 
 personal at the same time. Singer first hyphened the 
 words as in the text ; an emendation which certainly 
 makes sense of what before was mere confusion. Daniel 
 boldly reads : 
 
 " Humorous madman, passionate lover," 
 
 and possibly he is right. The whole of this speech is very 
 carelessly printed in the old copies. 
 
 62. Line 13: Youni; Abraham Cupid, he that ghot so 
 trim. — All the old copies concur in reading Abraham. 
 Upton's conjecture Adam, referring to Adam Bell, the 
 celebrated archer, has been very generally adopted; but, 
 on the whole, there seems no need to alter the text here. 
 Abraham is one of the many foiins of Abram, ubron = 
 aubuni. See Coriolanus, ii. 3. 21, where F. 1, F. 2, F. 3 all 
 read Abram, and F. 4 reads auburn. Compare Middle- 
 ton's Blurt, blaster Constable ii 2: 
 
 A goodly long thick .H'raiti-i-o/oiir'ii heaT<J. 
 
 —Works, vol. i. p. 159. 
 
 Abraham may also have another meaning, as beggars who 
 wandered about the country, after the suppression of tlie 
 monasteries, were called Abraham-men, thus defined in 
 the Fraternitye of Vacabondes, 1575, "anAbraham-maii is 
 he tliat walketh bare armed and bare legged, and fayneth 
 himself mad, etc." (See Halliwell's Dictionary, sub voce). 
 Bailey gives Abram Cove " naked or poor man." So that 
 Cupid, for more reasons than one, might be humorously 
 described as Abraham Cupid, being both a cheat and 
 naked. Schmidt, in his Lexicon (sub voce, Abraham), ex- 
 plains this name as being applied to Cupid, " in deri.sion 
 of the eternal boyhood of Cupid, though, in fact, he was 
 at least as old as Father Abraham." The latter part of 
 the verse is taken almost verbatim from the Ballad of 
 King Cophetua: 
 
 The blinded boy t/mt shootes so trim. 
 
 —Percy's Reliques (edn. 1857), p. 93. 
 
 In this case Q. 1 has preserved the right reading, all the 
 old copies substituting true for trim. 
 
 63. Line 16: The APE is dead.— Ho Nashe talks of having 
 read Lilly's Euphues " when he was a little ape at Cam- 
 
 242 
 
 bridge" (Var. Ed. Note, vol. vi. p. 73). The word was 
 used sometimes as a term of humorous atfection. Com- 
 pare "Alas, poor ape, how thou sweatest ! " (II. Henry IV. 
 ii. i. 234). 
 
 64. Line 28: Is/air a»irf honest; in his mistress' navte.— 
 In Qq. and Ff. this line runs thus : 
 
 Afy ittvocattoti is fair and honest, atid'xw his mistress name. 
 
 Q. 2aloneomitting the second and which spoils the metre. 
 M\i invocation belongs, evidently, to the line above; and 
 is so printed by all modern editors. 
 
 65. Line 39: ti-uc!debed.—This was a small bed on cas- 
 tors, which was placed under tlie large or standing-bed, 
 as it was called, during the day, and pulled out at night 
 fur the use of the male or female attendant. It was also 
 called a trundle-bed. See Dick of Devonshire, v. 1: 
 
 In my fleabitten Trundle bed. 
 
 — Bullen's Old Plays, vol. ii. p. 8-. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 66. Line 1 : He jests at scars, &c. — Romeo overhears 
 wliat Mercutio says. There is no indication of any change 
 of scene in the old copies, nor did any take place on the 
 stage in Sliakespeare's time; neither is there any direction 
 for Romeo's entrance. He merely stepped to the back of 
 the stage at the beginning of the scene, and was suppo.sed 
 to be concealed from the others, not coming out till they 
 had gone. Juliet would appear on the "upper stage," 
 which did duty in the old plays for so many purposes. 
 
 67. Lines 8, 9: 
 
 Tier vestal livery is but pale and gp.een, 
 
 And none but fools do tcear it. 
 This is an allusion to the white and green which were the 
 colours of the rojal livery in the time of Henry VIII. 
 (according to Collier), and were, undoubtedly, those of 
 the dress of Will Summers, the King's Fool. Pale is the 
 reading of Q. 1; .ill the other old copies read side, which 
 may have been taken by mistake from line 5 above, or 
 may have been used as if referring to f/rcen sickness, an 
 ailment common among young maidens. 
 
 68. Line 25: That I might KISS that cheek!— Kiss is the 
 reading of Q. 1; it seems prefera1)le to touch, the reading 
 of all the other old copies. 
 
 69. Line 29: u'hite, vpturned.— So all tlie old copies; 
 but Theobald printed tliese as one word, U'hite-U2'turned, 
 and is followed by nearly all the modem editors. Wliat 
 does while-upturned mean? With the white of the eye 
 upturned, I suppose. Do not the separate epitliets better 
 express the appearance of an upturned eye by moonlight? 
 If any one will observe the eyes of the person he loves 
 looking upwards, wlien the moon is shining, he will see 
 that the white is brought into great prominence by the 
 peculiar light of the moon. White-upturned seems com- 
 paratively commonplace. 
 
 70. Line .31: lazy -pacing.— This is another instance of 
 the true reading being obtained from Q. 1. All the other 
 old copies read lazy-puffing, an epithet whichGrant White
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 hoUls to be very appropriate to the clouds known r.s 
 cumuli, "that puff themselves out hito swelling breasLs 
 of rose-tinted wliite." 
 
 71. Line 39: Thou ait thyself, though not a Montague.— 
 A very great amount of unnecessary ingenuity has been 
 expended on this line. The meaning seems quite clear; 
 "I love thee for thyself; thou art thyself, even if thou 
 deniest thy fatlier and refusest thy name" (see line 34). 
 
 72. Lines 92, 93: 
 
 at lovers' perjuries. 
 
 They say, Jove laughs. 
 Compare Day's Humour out of Breath, iv. 1: 
 
 Jove hiinselfe sits and smiles 
 At lovers' perjuries. —Works, p. 55 (of play). 
 
 Both passages are taken, most probably, from Ovid's 
 Artis Araatorise, lib. 1, 633: 
 
 Jupiter ex alto perjiiria ridet ainantum. 
 
 "This Shakspeare found," says Douce, "perhaps in 
 Marlow's translation," 
 
 For Jove himself sits in the azure skies 
 .•/«rf lati^hs below at lovers' perjuries. 
 
 73. Lines 95-97 : Surely these three lines were never 
 equalled in any love poem ever written : the mingled 
 simplicity and passion — unconscious passion though it 
 be— are wonderfully true to nature. The last sentence, 
 but else, not for the world, is hardly ever spoken on the 
 stage with any proper appreciation of the intense passion 
 wliich it so thinly conceals. 
 
 74. Line 9S : In truth, fair MONTAGUE.— Why does 
 Juliet use here the hated name of iVo/itoj7!(e.' Is it an 
 oversight; or does she purposely recall the barrier between 
 her and Romeo, which her love is determined to overleap? 
 
 75. Lines 117-120.— Compare Romeo's misgivings, i. 4. 
 lOG-lll. The foreboding of evil, wliich both the lovers 
 feel, is a very dramatic touch. 
 
 76. Line 160: tassel-gentle.— Siteevens says this is the 
 tiercel or male of the goshawk, so called because it was 
 a tierce or third less than the female. The name gentle 
 was given to this species of hawk because it was so easily 
 tamed. According to ilalone, the tiercel-gentle was the 
 species of hawk appropriated to the prince; hence Juliet 
 applies the name to Romeo. 
 
 77. Line 171: I have forgot why I did call thee back. — 
 This is one of the many exquisite touches in this scene. 
 Juliet can scarcely have forgotten why she called Romeo 
 back, because she has already asked him what time she 
 is to meet him on the morrow, quite sufficient reason for 
 recalling him; but she is so unwilling to part witli him, 
 she pretends there was something else she had forgotten. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 78. Lines 3, 4 ; 
 
 And flecked darkness, like a drunkard, reels 
 From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. 
 Compare with this passage the following from Crashaw's 
 poem, "On a Foule morning, being then to take a jour- 
 ney": 
 
 Where art thou Sol while thus the blind-fold Tay 
 Staggers out 0/ the East, loses his way, 
 Stittnblijtg OH Ai^ht > 
 
 —Works (Grosart'3 edn.l, vol. i. p. 235. 
 
 79. Line 26: SL.4.YS all senses tcith the hea)f.—(i. 2 reads 
 staics, which some editors think preferable to slays; the 
 meaning, in that case, being that the poison stays, or 
 sto2)S the heart, and with it all the senses. 
 
 80. Lines 41, 42. —These two lines seem to have slipped 
 ill from some later travesty; they have all the fatuous 
 solemnity of such a work as the Rehearsal, or Tom Thumb. 
 
 81. Lines 51, 52 : 
 
 both our remedies 
 Within thy help and holy physic LIES. 
 This construction is not ungrammatical, according to the 
 rules of grammar in Shakespeare's time. Compare Venus 
 and Adonis, L 1128: 
 
 ^\■here, !o, t7i'0 lamps burnt out in darkness lies. 
 
 82. Line 70: thy sallow cheeks.— This expression shows 
 that Romto was intended to be a young man of the 
 genuine Italian type, with sallow complexion, and, pro- 
 bably, dark hair; not the round-faced, rosy-cheeked youth 
 that some critics seem to picture him. 
 
 83. Lines 87, 88: 
 
 O, she kneiv well 
 
 Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 
 Ulrici and Delius both point out, in different language, 
 that this means Rosaline knew Romeo's love was purely 
 mechanical, and not genuine; just as a person might 
 pretend to read, having learned the matter by heart, but 
 not being able to spell the words. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 84. Line 14: a lohite ivench's black ?2/e.— Compare Love's 
 Labour 's Lost, iii. 1. 198, 199 : 
 
 A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, 
 
 IVitli two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes. 
 
 The description of both the Rosalines, in that play and 
 in this, seems to have been founded on the same original, 
 a pale woman with black eyes. Such a combination gene- 
 rally is held to indicate a wanton nature. Perhaps the 
 same original sat for the portrait of the two Rosalines, 
 and of the faithless mistress in the Sonnets. 
 
 85. Line 21: prince of co^s.— Steevens quotes Dekker's 
 Satiromastix, "tho' you were Tybert, the long-tail'd 
 prince of cats." But on reference to the text of tliat play 
 I find the passage is as follows: — "you keepe a Revelling 
 & Araigning & a Scratching of mens faces, as tho you 
 were Tyber the long-tail'd Prince of Ratves " CNVorks, 
 vol. i. p. 259). Tyhert or Tybalt is the name of the cat 
 in Reynard the Fo.x. 
 
 86. Line 22: captain of cojiplements.— See Note 11, 
 Love's Labour's Lost. 
 
 87. Line 23: rests me his minim res(. — Shakespeare had 
 a very fair practical knowledge of music, as is evident 
 from the many technical musical expressions scattered 
 
 243
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 5. 
 
 throughout his plays. For interesting particulars on this 
 point, see a very able series of articles in the Musical 
 World for Jan. and Feb. 1884, entitled "Shakespeare as a 
 Musician " 
 
 88. Line 2G: a gentleman of the vet-y first house— ^i9.\m- 
 ton has a long and elaborate note e.\plainini; this phrase 
 as meaning a gentleman-scholar "of the very first house," 
 or school of fencing, referring to the academies estab- 
 lished in London during the latter part of the Kith cen- 
 tury for the study of "'I'he Noble Science of Defence." 
 But Dyce's e.xplanation tliat it means "an upstart fellow, 
 a nobody," is more probable ; he quotes Cotgrave, "Gen- 
 tilhomnie de ville, a gintUnian of the first head, an up- 
 start gentleman." There is also some reference, no doubt, 
 to an e.\pressiou of heraldry in this passage. 
 
 89. Lines 34-37: THESE pakdonnez-MOIS, ivho stand so 
 much on the NEW FORM, that they cannot sit at ease on the 
 OLD BENCH? 0, their BON.S, their EONS.— The Caml>. Edd. 
 print perdona-mi's, as if it were meant for Italian, follow- 
 ing Q. 4, Q. 5, which have pardona'mees, while Q. 2 has 
 pardons mees, and F. I, F. 2 %mrdon-mee's. Mercutio 
 seems to be speaking of Frenchified gallants. The Carab. 
 Edd. retain "O their bones, their hones!" the reading of 
 all the old copies; but if we adopt perdona-mi's, hones 
 should surely be bunns. As for the rest of the sentence, 
 the pun on form and bench is obvious; but Blakeway, in 
 a note, says he had "read that during the reign of large 
 breeches, it was necessary to cut away hollow places in 
 the benches of the House of Commons to make room for 
 these monstrous protuberances, without which they who 
 stood on the new form (i.e. who adopted the new fashion) 
 could not sit at ease on the old bench." This fashion of 
 "bombasted breeches" came from France, and reached 
 its height, or rather width, in the middle of Elizabeth's 
 reign, but did not die out till the reign of Charles I. 
 
 90. Line 39: Without his itOE, i.e. without the first part 
 of his name, and so only me o, or o me, i.e. a sigh. Mer- 
 cutio before (ii. 1. 8), when calling Romeo, says; 
 
 Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh. 
 
 91. LinefiO: SINGLE-SOLED KSf. —SJ»if??e means simple. 
 Tlie expression single -soled is generally explained as 
 slight, feeble. But Singer points out the following ex- 
 tract from Cotgrave (.«J(6 Monsieur), "Monsieur de trois 
 au boisseau: ... A thread-bare, single-soled, course- 
 spunne, gentleman." So that single-soled jest means here 
 a "thread-bare jest." 
 
 92. Line 75: if thy rvits run the wild-goose chase.— A 
 kind of horse-race was called wild-goose chase, in which 
 "two horses were started together, and whichever rider 
 could get the lead, the other was obliged to follow Iiini 
 over whatever ground the foremost jockey chose to go." 
 Burton mentions it, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, 
 amongst the popular recreations of his time (p. 170, Ed. 
 1G76). 
 
 93. Line 87: 0, here 's a wit of CHEVERIL.— In Day's Law 
 Trickes, act iv., we find "ile see which of my cheverill- 
 braind imitators dares follow my fashion" [Works, p. 5S 
 (of play)]. The context explains the meaning of the 
 phrase here. 
 
 244 
 
 94 Line 112: Mij FAN, rc/cr -Farmer quotes from The 
 Serving Mans Comfort, 1598; "The mistress must have one 
 to carry her cloake and hood, another Xxerfanne." These 
 fans were more like hand flre-screens than the modern 
 fans; they were large and cuinl)ers'onie. 
 
 95. Line IS,") : She will indite him to some supper.— 
 Benvolio uses indite for invite, in ridicule of the Nurse's 
 confidence for conference. 
 
 96. Lines 137, 138: 
 
 Rom, ]Vhat hast thou found? 
 
 Mer. JVo hare, sir. 
 This passage is aptly illustrated by the following in 
 Bronie's City Wit, iv. 2: "was not thy mother a notori- 
 ous Tripe-wife, and thy father a protest Ilarefinderf" 
 (Works, vol. i. p. 347). What the original meaning of 
 harefinder was is doubtful ; but its meaning in the above 
 passage is pretty plain: the use of the word hare for "a 
 wench" is illustrated by a passage quoted, from Mirth in 
 Abundance, IG.W, l)y Halliwell (see Furness, p 133). 
 
 97. Line 1C2: slcains-mates.—lhe derivation and exact 
 meaning of this word are doubtful, and have much exer- 
 cised the commentators. There is no doubt skain means 
 a sword, or dagger; so that slcainsmates may mean "fel- 
 low-cutthroats or bullies." On the ether hand skein was 
 spelled skain sometimes, so that it may be applied to wo- 
 men who work together at weaving. 
 
 98. Line 181: very weak dealing .—CnWier proposed to 
 read wicked, but it is unnecessary. This is one of the 
 Nurse's ridiculous blunders. Mi'. Fleay suggests the old 
 word wicke (wikkc, Chaucer), still in use, in the Midland 
 Counties, for wicked. 
 
 99. Line 223: R is for the dog. JV'o.— The old copies all 
 read, R is for the no. The emendation we have adopted 
 seems the most satisfactory one. Yards of commentary 
 have been written on this passage, but the reading of our 
 text is supported by the fact that R was undoulitedly 
 known as the dog's letter from the days tif the ancient 
 Romans. Persius, Erasmus, Barclay (in his Ship of 
 Fools), and other authorities, are quoted on this point. 
 The Nurse, evidently, has got hopelessly "mixed"— to 
 use a modern slang word— over tlie pretty saying of 
 Juliet. 
 
 ACT II. ScENK 5. 
 
 100. Line 16: Pyut old folks, MANY FEKiN as they were 
 dead. —So all the old copies substantially. JIany emenda- 
 tions have been suggested ; Dyce's is the most probable, 
 move i' faith. But is any alteration necessary? Many 
 feign may mean "many of them {i.e. old folks) feign as 
 they ivere dead," i.e. "seem to be dead," so slow do they 
 move. 
 
 101. Line 26: Fie, how my hones ache .'—As to the age of 
 the Nurse, Shakespeare is quite in accord with Brooke's 
 poem; but it is worth noting that, so far from represent- 
 ing her as infirm, Brooke, after describing the Nurse's in- 
 terview with Romeo, says (1. 673): 
 
 She t.ikes her leauc, and home, / she hycs with sfedy pace.
 
 ACT II. Sceoe 6. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 ACT II. ScKNK 6. 
 
 102. Line 9: These violent deliyhts have violent ends. — 
 
 Perhaps an expansion of a similar sentiment in Lucrece, 
 
 line 894: 
 
 Thy violent vanities can never last. 
 
 103. Line 32: They are hut beggars that can count their 
 imrlh.—The same sentiment is repeated, almost exactly, 
 in Ant. and Cleop. i. 1. 15: 
 
 Tliere's be^i^arv in the love that can be reckon'd. 
 
 ACT III. ScEXE 1. 
 
 104. Line 4 : For now, these hot days, is the mad blood 
 stirring. — According to Johnson, in Italy "almost all as- 
 sassinations are committed during the heat of summer." 
 Reed (jtiotes from Sir Tliomas Smith's Commonwealth of 
 England, 1.583, b. ii. ch. cxix. p. 70, "for in the warme time 
 the people for the most part be more unruly." 
 
 105. Line 8 : by the OPERATION of the second cup. — 
 Compare II. Henry IV. iv. 3. 104, "A good &herris-sack 
 hath a two-fold operation in it." 
 
 106. Line 11: Am I Wee such a fellow?— Clarke points 
 out that a significant emphasis should be thrown on the 
 /, in onler to give "point to tlie humorous effect of Mer- 
 cutio's lecturing Benvolio — the sedate and peace-making 
 Benvolio — . . . on the sin of quarrelsomeness." 
 
 107. Line 48: Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo. — 
 Mercutio was an invited guest to the Capulets' feast, 
 though he belonged to neither of the two rival houses. 
 Tybalt seems to make it a grievance that he consorts with 
 one of the opposite faction. This does not imply that 
 Mercutio was bound by any closer ties to the Capulets 
 than he was to the Montagues; it is only one of the traits 
 of Tybalt's arrogant and domineering character. 
 
 108. Liue 69: BOY, this shall not excuse the injuries.— 
 The fact of Tybalt addressing Romeo as Boy does not 
 prove that Romeo was his junior. The term Boy was 
 used as one of contempt. Compare Coriolanus, v. C. 101, 
 where Aufidius calls Coriolanus " thou boy of tears." In 
 line 104 Coriolanus resents the term, "Boy! O slave!" 
 Again, line 113, "Boy, false hound!" 
 
 109. Line 83: dry-beat.— Compare Love's Labour's Lost, 
 V. 2. 263: 
 
 all dfy-bente}i with pure scoff. 
 
 This sense of dry ( = hard, severe) has nothing to do with 
 the verb drie, used by Chaucer ( = to suffer), as Clarke 
 wrongly explains it in a note on this passage. 
 
 110. Line 84: pilcher.—A pilch was an outer garment 
 made of leather; it was also used of the covering of a 
 saddle, and for the flannel that covered a child. Singer, 
 in a fit of originality, would have us read pitcher. Bailey 
 (in Dictionary) gives i)i7c/ta/(<, " anything lined with Fur." 
 
 111. Line 93 : ITybalt, under Romeo's arm, stabs Mer- 
 cutio, &c.'— Tins stage direction is found (sul)stantially) in 
 Q. 1, which, if for no other reason, is valuable as contain- 
 ing many more such directions than any later edition. 
 The question arises naturally, at this point, as to whether 
 
 the death of Mercutio — which is apparently an invention 
 of Shakespeare, no foundation for the incident having 
 been found in any of the various versions of the story of 
 Romeo and Juliet preceding this play- is, or is not, re- 
 quired by the dramatic exigencies of the plot. On this 
 point, I believe, Shakespeare has decidedly the best of 
 his critics; he does not kill Mercutio wantonly, because 
 he finds him becoming so bright and effective that he 
 would overshadow the hero, but simply because there is 
 no room in the after part of the play for such a character; 
 the scheme of the tragedy would not allow of Mercutio 
 being employed, with any effect, when once the real serious 
 interest of the story has commenced. What could be 
 more appropriate to the character of this scoffing, quick- 
 tempered companion of Romeo, than that he should die 
 in such a quarrel? If he is allowed to live, he nmst be 
 brought in again on the scene; and how could that be 
 done without irreparable injury to the main story? Just 
 as in Hamlet, Shakespeare saw, at once, that any attempt 
 to give prominence to the love of Hamlet for Ophelia 
 must cripple the development of his leading idea in that 
 tragedy, so did he recognize the fact that Mercutio, if 
 suffered to live on, must either sink into a nonentity, or 
 encumber the action of the tragedy. 
 
 112. Line 113: your houses! — This broken exclamation 
 of the dying man, who has not breath to repeat his foinier 
 anathema, "a plague o' both your houses," is admirably 
 dramatic. 
 
 113. Lines 114, 115: 
 
 This gentleman, the prince's near AhLY, 
 My VERY FRIEND. 
 
 Compare Two Gentlemen of Verona, iv. 1. 49: 
 
 An heir, and niece allied unto the duke. 
 
 And (same play) iii. 2. 41: 
 
 Especially against his very/rieiid. 
 
 114. Line 182: Affection makes him FALSE.— Beuvolio's 
 account of the encounter between Tybalt and Mercutio 
 is not strictly true; which may arise, less from any inten- 
 tion, on the dramatist's part, to make Benvolio inaccurate 
 under the influence of partisanship, than from a confusion 
 between the version of the fracas given in Brooke's poem, 
 and that which Shakespeare, for the purposes of the play, 
 had invented. Is /«Z«e a verb in this passage? Compare 
 Comedy of Errors, ii. 2. 95 (see Note 42 of that play); also 
 Cymbeline, ii. 3. 74: 
 
 Yea, and makes 
 Diana's langers/alse themselves, yield up 
 Their deer to the stand o' the stealer. 
 
 In the latter passage, false may be an adjective. There 
 can be no doubt of this verb being used in the following 
 passage from Hey wood's second part of King Edward IV. : 
 
 ShQ/alsde her faith, and brake her wedlocks band. 
 
 — Works, vol. i. p. 125. 
 
 115. Line 202: Mercy bxit murders, pardoning those that 
 kill.— It is very proliable that Shakespeare, before writing 
 this line, may have seen a passage in Stubbes' Anatomic 
 of Abuses, quoted by Malone, in which is contained the 
 rebuke of a jester to a king who had iiardoned a man 
 that had committed two murders ; the murderer was 
 brought up a third time for the same crime, when the 
 
 245
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 2. 
 
 king asked liini why he had killed three men. "No (O 
 king)," said the jester, "lie killed but the first, and thou 
 hast killed the other two; foi- if thou hadst hanged him 
 up at the first, the other two had not beeue killed." (.See 
 New Shak. Soc. Series vi. No. 12, p. 15.) 
 
 ACT III. SCEXK 2. 
 
 116. Lines 1-4: Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Ac. 
 — Compare Marlowe's King Edward II. (which was per- 
 formed before 1593) : 
 
 Gallop aface, bright Phccbus, through the sky; 
 And, dusky Night, in rusty iron car, 
 Between you both shorten the time, I pray. 
 That I may see that most desired day. 
 
 — ^\■orks, p. 2oS. 
 
 117. Line 6: That RUNAWAYS' ei/«« '"^J/ «'*"*•— This is 
 one of those passages that seem to have been written for 
 the special benefit of commentators; it is scarcely cred- 
 ible that pages upon pages of elaborate verbiage should 
 liave been written on this one M'ord rimawaijs. The 
 meaning is clear; .Juliet wishes that Eomeo may find his 
 way to her arms without being observed. Jiunaways 
 here = runagates: as Furnivall has pointed out, Shake- 
 speare, in Ricliard III. v. 3. 316, wrote: 
 
 A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and yiaimvays. 
 
 In Hollinshed's Chronicles, which Shakespeare used in 
 writing Richard III. the passage runs "a company of 
 traitors, theeves, outlaws, and runagates." For the vari- 
 ous emendations, which are painfully ingenious, I must 
 refer the reader to Furness' New Variorum Edition of 
 this play (Appendi.x, pp. 307-395). If the gentle reader will 
 peruse those twenty-eight pages he will be much edified. 
 riuiiaivays, then, or runagates, are the people who are out 
 late at night, and who might see Romeo on liis way to 
 Juliet's chamber. Hunter quotes a passage from Dyche's 
 Dictionary, 1735, "Runagate or Jiunairay, a rover or 
 wanderer." I would venture on one suggestion, which 
 is, that there may have been in Shakespeare's mind such 
 a word as run-i'-the-ivays = xaga,hoiu\s; but the passage 
 from Richard III. almost renders this or any other con- 
 jecture unnecessary. 
 
 118. Lines 8, 9: 
 
 Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
 
 By their oivn beauties. 
 There can be little doubt that Stilton had these lines in 
 his mind when he wrote tliat beautiful passage in Comus: 
 
 ^'irtue could see to do what virtue would 
 
 By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 
 
 Were in the flat sea sunk. 
 
 119. Lines 21-25: There is a passage in The Wisdonie 
 of Doctor Dodypoll, 1000, in the opening speech of Jmss- 
 ingbergh, which bears too close a resemblance to these 
 lines to be accidental. The speaker is addressing tlie 
 "bright Morne:" 
 
 I,ooke here and see if thou canst finde disper'st 
 
 The glorious parts of faire I.ncilia: 
 
 Take them and joyne them in the heavenly Spheares, 
 
 And fix them there as an eternall light 
 
 I'or Lovers to adore and wonder at. 
 
 — Bullcn's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 99. 
 
 246 
 
 120. Lines 2C-2S.— The metaphor here is surely most 
 confused. Juliet compares herself, in the same sentence, 
 first to the purchaser of a mansion who has not yet pos- 
 sessed it; and then to a property that has been sold, but 
 "not yet enjoy'd." 
 
 121. Lines 45-51.— Are these dreadful lines, so full of 
 senseless puns, a relic of the old play on the subject of 
 Romeo and Juliet? or were they written by Shakespeare, 
 in order to show he could be guilty of as great nonsense 
 as many of his contemporaries? 
 
 122. Line 53: God save the mark!— Tor this expression, 
 the meaning of which is very doubtful, see note on I. 
 Henry IV. i. 3. 56. 
 
 123. Line 56: stroonded.— This is an old form of the 
 verb to su'oon. In Lilly's The Woman in the Moone, 
 act i. we have the form sounds: "Alas! she weeping 
 sounds" (Works, vol. ii. p. 101). In the interlude, Nice 
 Wanton, tlie form sotcne occurs (Dodsley, vol. ii. p. 180). 
 
 124. Line 76: Dove-feather' d raven! xcolvish-ravening 
 lamb!—<i. 2, Q. 3, F. l.read, Havenovs dovefeatherd Raven; 
 Q. 4, Q. 5, F. 2, F. 3, F. 4, read, Ravenous dove, feathered 
 Raven. The arrangement in our text is Tlieobald*. 
 
 125. Lines 85-87: 
 
 There '»■ no tnist, 
 Ko faith, no honesty in men; all naught. 
 All perjur'd, all dissemblers, all forsworn. 
 Tliis is Mr. Fleay's arrangement of these lines, adopted 
 by Daniel in his edition of Q. 2; and, probably, the right 
 one. As printed in Qq. Ff. they make two lines, the first 
 ending in men; the second running thus: 
 
 All perjur'd, nll/omvorit, all naught, all dissemblers. 
 
 Most modern editors arrange them as in the text down 
 to ')nen, but dividing the second line of the old copies 
 thus: 
 
 All perjur'd, 
 All/orsivoy)i, all 7taught, all dissemblers. 
 
 This makes a very unmetrical line for no purpose. Id 
 Q. 1, the corresponding line runs thus: 
 
 All/alse, all faithles, perjurde, allfors^uortie, 
 
 which scans very well. All the other speeches of the 
 Nurse in this scene are in strictly metrical verse; and 
 there seems no reason for leaving this one otherwise, 
 when so slight a transposition of words renders it metrical. 
 
 126. Line 109: That MURDERED inc.— So F. 1; and again 
 below, line 118, H7(i/ followed not! the final ed not 
 being elided, I believe purposely; as the dactyl in this 
 position has a very harmonious effect. 
 
 127. Line 121 : But tvith a REAR-WARD following Ty- 
 balt's death.— Another instance of a peculiar word used 
 in this play, and also in the Sonnets: 
 
 Ahl do not, when my heart hath scap'd the sorrow. 
 
 Come in the rear-ward of a conquer'd foe. — Sonn. xc.5. 6. 
 
 128. Line 126: In that word's death.— Ihis is rather an 
 obscure expression. That icord means banished; and 
 Juliet means that there is "no end, no limit," &c. in the 
 death which tliat word "banished" brings when applied 
 to Romeo, whose banishment is to her the death of all 
 slie loves.
 
 ACT III. Sceue 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 ACT HI. Scene 3. 
 
 129. Line 10: A gentler judgment vanish'd /com ftis 
 li2>s.— Some commentators would alter vanish'd to issued; 
 but, besides a soniewliat similar word in Lucrece, line 
 1011, we have in Massiiiger's Renegade, v. 3, an exact 
 parallel: 
 
 and seal my thanks 
 I'pon those .'i/s from whence these sweet words vniiish'd. 
 
 — M'orks, p. 162. 
 
 130. Line 26: RUSH'D aside the law.— In Halliwell's 
 Dictionary we find, sub voce, rusche, "To dash or tlirow 
 down:" 
 
 And of alle his ryche casteUes rusche doune the wallez. 
 
 — Morte Arthure, MS. Lincohi, f. 67. 
 
 I can find no other instance of the verb rush being used 
 in this sense ; but I do not think pitsh'd or bntsh'd 
 preferable. 
 
 131. Lines 37-43.— The old copies differ so much in 
 theii- arrangement of this passage that it is best to give 
 Daniel's lucid ^^/t'o/s of the points of difference: 
 
 " (i) And steale immortall blessing from her lips;— 
 (2) Who, even in pure and vestall niodestie, 
 (3 Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin ;— 
 
 (4) But Romeo may not; he is banished : 
 
 (5) This may flyes do, when I from tliis must flje ; 
 
 (6) Flies may do this, but I from this must flie : 
 
 (7) They are freemen, but I am banished : 
 
 (8) And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death?" 
 
 "In this passage Q. 1 has only the lines here numbered 
 1, 4, and 6; the other Quartos have all the lines, but in the 
 following order: 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 4, 6, 7. The Folios follow the 
 same order, but omit 6 and 7." Daniel thinks 5 was sub- 
 stituted for G. It is evident they are both only variations 
 of the same line. 
 
 132. Line 94: Both she not think me an old murderer? 
 —Old here means "practised." Compare Troilus and 
 Cressida, i. 2. 128: "Is he so young a man and so old a 
 lifter?" 
 
 133. Line 108 et seq. —Isote how, up to this point. Friar 
 Laurence treats Komeo's utter want of self-control and 
 violent passion with a good-humoured tolerance; speaking 
 to him more as a friend to one younger than himself, in 
 a tone of kindly banter, or not unsympathetic remon- 
 strance. It is only when Romeo's passion threatens to 
 go to the point of violating the law of God and man, that 
 he speaks with the authority of a priest, and in the tone 
 of stern rebuke. This speech is a most admirable com- 
 position; full of striking good sense, eloquent reasoning, 
 and noble piety. 
 
 134. Line 119: Why rail'st thou on thy birth?— Uomeo 
 has not railed on his birth here ; but in Brooke's poem 
 (1. 1327) he has: 
 
 The time and place of byrth, / he fiersly did reprove. 
 
 135. Line 127: DiGRESSi^^G from the valour of a man.— 
 Steevens quotes from Chapman's Translation of Homer's 
 Odyssey (Ijook xxiv.): 
 
 my deserving-s shall in nought dig-ress 
 l-rom best fame of our race's foremost nierit. 
 
 Compare Richard II. v. 3. 67: 
 
 This deadly blot in thy digressing son. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 4. 
 
 136. Line 11: She's MEW'd vv to her heaviness.— Dyce 
 quotes: "Meiv is the place, whether it be abroad or in 
 the house, in which the Hawk is put during the time she 
 casts or doth change her Feathers" (R. Holme's Academy 
 of Armory and Blazon, b. ii. cxi. p. 241). In Wily Be- 
 guiled, in which, no doubt, there are some points (notably 
 the Nurse) copied from this play, occurs this line: 
 
 lie 9tie7vs hey up as men do mew their hawks. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. ix. p. 24S. 
 
 137 Line 22 : Will you be ready? do you like this haste? 
 — The fidgety, fussy character of Capulet is well illus- 
 trated in this speech. Later in the play the Kurse calls 
 Capulet a "cot-quean" (iv. 4. 6); a title he well deserves, 
 and which may be rendered " a meddlesome mollycoddle." 
 Capulet speaks the line quoted above to Paris; then he 
 turns round to Lady Capulet (up to line 28) "And there 
 an end." All through this play he flies off from one sub- 
 ject to another. There is something of I'olonius in him. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 5. 
 
 138. Line 4: Nightly she sings on yon jwmegranate- 
 (cee.— Knight, in his note upon this passage, tells us that 
 nightingales, in the East, frequent pomegranate-trees in 
 preference to any other tree. It is certain no birds are 
 more faithful to a favourite locality than nightingales. 
 Year after year they will come to the same spot, and their 
 song can be heard every night from the same thicket. 
 It would be too much to expect that any poet should be 
 accurate enough not to talk of the hen nightingale as 
 singing. The legend of Philomela has infected, and pro- 
 bably will infect, all poets' minds on this point ; but it 
 may as well be noted that it is the male bird, of course, 
 who sings, almost incessantly, from the time of pairing 
 to the hatching of the eggs: after that he shigs very little, 
 as he devotes his attention to providing food for his 
 offspring. 
 
 139. Line 8: Do lace the sevei ing clouds in yonder east. — 
 This passage was imitated by Crashaw, in his poem called 
 New Year's Day (stanza 3), when describing the morning 
 dawn: 
 
 All the purple pride that iaces 
 The crimson curtains of thy bed. 
 
 140. Line 9: Night's candles are burnt ot(<.— Compare 
 
 Macbeth, ii. 1. 4, 5: 
 
 There's husbandry in heaven 
 Their ca/ttf/es cere all out. 
 
 141. Line 20: the pale reflex of Cynthia's fcrow.— Clarke 
 says that the allusion is to the "crescent moon," with 
 which Diana, who was also called Cynthia, is represented. 
 The meaning is that the moon is just rising. 
 
 142. Line 29: Some say the lark makes sweet DIVISION. 
 — Division, in music, is "the variation of a simple theme, 
 or methodic passage, by a number of notes so connected 
 as to form one series, and when written for the voice 
 meant to be siuig with one breath to one syllable " (Imp. 
 Diet.). The singing of the lark is certainly distinguished 
 by this beautiful melodious exercise. 
 
 143. Line 31: Some say the lark and loathed toad change 
 
 247
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT III. Sceue 5. 
 
 «»/««.— Warburton says: "The toad having very flue eyes 
 and the lark very ugly ones, was the occasion of a com- 
 mon saying amongst the people, tliat the toad and lark 
 had chanjcd eyes." As far as I can discover Warburton 
 is the sole authority for this piece of folk-lore. Johnson 
 partially conflrms his statement to the same effect by 
 iiuoting from memory a rustic rhyme (presumably on the 
 lark): 
 
 To heav'u I 'd fly 
 But tliat the toirf beguil'd me of mine eye. 
 
 — \'ar. Hii. vol. i, p. 194. 
 
 144. Line 34: hunt's up.— The old song The Uiint w up 
 is given In Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, 
 where it is said to be of the time of Henry VIII. Cot- 
 grave, under RcsvcU, gives, " A Hunts-vp, or Morning 
 song for a new married wife, the day after the marriage." 
 It is to this tliat the allusion is in the text. 
 
 145. Line 43: Art thou gone so! my lord, my love, my 
 friend .'—So Q. 1, a preferable reading to that of other Qq. 
 and F. 1: "lord, love, ay husband, friend." The use of 
 the word /ri'ejirf,— which does not appear to have ex- 
 pressed " the dearest possible relation between the se.xcs," 
 as Grant White says,— was suggested by the lines in 
 Brooke's poem, lines 1597-1600: 
 
 Since he on whom alway 
 My cheefe hope and my steady trust /was wonted still to stay, 
 For whom I am beconime / unto myselfe a foe, 
 Uisdayneth me, his stedfast/r«/rf, / and scoriies my/rendship so 
 
 I'hat there was a great difference between friend and 
 " love" the following passage from Wily Beguiled proves: 
 •'So Lelia shall accept thee as her friend:— vi\\o can but 
 ruminate upon these words? Would she had said, her 
 love: but 'tis no matter; first creep, and tlien go; now her 
 friend: the ne.\t degree is Lelia's luve " (Dodsley, vol. i.\. 
 p. 2GG). 
 
 146. Line 66: Is she not down so late, or tip so early?— 
 This line seems; at first sight, decidedly obscure. Slalone 
 explains it, " Is she not laid down in her bed at so late an 
 hour as this? or rather is she risen from her bed at so 
 early an hour of the morn?" A similar use of domi 
 occurs in iv. 5. 12 of this play, where the Nurse says of 
 Juliet: 
 
 What, drcss'd! and in your clothes! and lioTnii again. 
 
 So that Malone's explanation is probably right. 
 
 147. Line 77: 
 
 La. Cap. Which you iveep fur. 
 
 Jul. Feeling so the loss. 
 
 This is an instance of the middle pause supplying the 
 place of a syllable. Juliet does not answer at once. She 
 wants time to control her emotion. 
 
 148. Lines 94-96: 
 
 Indeed, I tiever shall be satisfied 
 With Romeo, till I behold him— dead- 
 Is my poor heart— so for a kinsman vcx'd. 
 
 Tlie Qq. and Ff. print: 
 
 tM I behold him. Dead 
 Is my poor heart, &c. 
 
 but the ambiguous meaning of the lines is plain, the dead 
 being made by Juliet to do duty for both sentences—*' till 
 I behold him dead," and "dead is my poor heart," &c. 
 We have followed Daniel in putting a break after heart. 
 248 
 
 149. Line 112: ^fadam, in happy time- i.e. A la bonne 
 heure, wliicli is translated " so be it, as you please," as 
 implying reluctant consent; but Cotgrave only gives it 
 the plain sense of "happily, luckily, fortunately." 
 
 150. Line 141; / would the fool were married to her 
 grave! — This line was copied, almost word for word, in the 
 Two .4ngry Women of Abington, 1599: 
 
 I'll rather have her man itd to her grave. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. vii. p. 329. 
 
 151. Line 142: take me with you, ici/e.— This expres- 
 sion occurs not unfrequently in the Old I'lays. It means 
 "let me understand or follow you." Compare Peele's 
 Edward I.: " Soft you now, good Morgan Pigot, and take 
 us with ye a little, I pray " (Works, p. 383). 
 
 152. Line 154: FETTLE your fine joints.— Ho Qq. F. 1 : 
 but F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 give settle: fettle is commonly used in 
 the North of England, in the sense of "to make ready," 
 sometimes with up. An old woman in Cumberland once 
 excused herself for not going to holy conmmnion, because 
 she "had not had time to fettle up her heart fit to meet 
 her Saviour." 
 
 153. Line 174: Jlay not one speak T' YE?— The last word 
 was Mr. Fleay's emendation; it seems best to supply the 
 missing syllable, the old copies reading merely, " May not 
 one speak?" 
 
 154. Lines 178-180: 
 
 God's bread ! it makes me mad: day, night, late, early. 
 At home, abroad, alone, in company. 
 Waking, or sleeping, still my care hath been. 
 This is the reading compounded by Pope from the read- 
 ings of Q. 1 and Q. 2, and pretty generally accepted. 
 For a very ingeniously arranged version, see note on 
 Daniel's Edn. of the Second Quartcr(1599), pp. 130, 131. 
 
 155. Line 186: jna?nm€«.— Whether this word is the 
 same as maicmet, and only an abbreviation of Mahomet, 
 or whether it is connected with mamma, is disputed. In 
 the sense of "a doll" the latter derivation seems much 
 the more probable. In the Maydes Metamorphosis, 1000, 
 act ii. we have an instance of the word in the form 
 mawmH : 
 
 lo. What Mau'iiiets are these? 
 
 Fris. O they be the Fayries that haunt these woods. 
 
 — BuUen's Old Plays, vol. i. p. 1^7 
 
 156. Lines 194-197: 
 
 hang, beg, starve, die in the streets. 
 For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknouiedge thee. 
 Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: 
 Trust to 't, bethink you; I 'II not be forsworn. 
 With this compare tlie following passage in Wily Be- 
 guiled, obviously copied from it: "Away, I say; hang, 
 starve, beg; begone, pack, I say; out of my sight! Thou 
 never gettest pennyworth of my goods for this. Think 
 on't, I do not use to jest" (Dodsley, vol. Ix. p. 274). 
 
 157. Line 228: Speakest thou from thy heart? -^ote 
 here the calmness of Juliet; she does not break out into 
 any violent abuse of the Nurse for her revolting and in- 
 sulting speech. Perhaps the spectacle of her father's 
 degradation, in his coarse outbinst of temper, has im-
 
 ACT III. Scene 5. 
 
 NOTES TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 pressed her; but all tlnou^'Ii tliis scene she has been 
 rising in dignity and strength of purpose; and now she 
 seems to liave reached the climax of resolute and dignifted 
 determination. The very trial, to which her new-born 
 love is SI) suddenly suVijected, strengthens and ennobles 
 what might have been a mere caprice of passion into an 
 enduring and fearless love. 
 
 158. Line 23.1: Ancient damnation.'- -One of the many 
 expressions (if Shakespeare annexed by Marston in The 
 Malcontent, v. 2:— Out, yee antient damnation! (Works, 
 vol. ii. p. 280). 
 
 ACT IV. SCENK 1. 
 
 159. Line 3 : And I am nothing slotv to slack his haste. 
 —Tliis is, undoubtedly, an ambiguous phrase ; but it 
 clearly means, " I am not at all slow, i.e. I wish no 
 delay, so as to slack his haste." It is one of those hifid 
 sentences, if one may use the expression, in whicli the 
 writer commences with the intention of using one con- 
 struction, and ends as if he had used another. 
 
 160. Line 7: And therefore have I little TALK'D of love. 
 —This is the reading of Q. h, which alone has talkt; all 
 the otiier olil editions, substantially, talk. There is much 
 to be said for the latter reading, which Mommsen defends 
 most energetically : according to him Paris means, not 
 that he Iiad been prevented by Juliet's grief from speak- 
 ing of his love, but that "this was tlie only reason why 
 he received from her so few words of love." Certainly 
 the reading in our text seems the simplest; and the talkt, 
 in the earlier copies, might easily have been misprinted 
 talke. 
 
 161. Line 20: That " may be" tnust &e. — We have placed 
 may be between inverted commas, as suggested by Daniel. 
 In spite of tlie comma, which is found after may be in all 
 the old editions (e.vcept Q. 4), Paris is most probably 
 (luoting Juliet's words. The other form of the sentence. 
 That may be must be, seems to be in a tone rather more 
 arbitrary than Paris would use. 
 
 162. Line 38: evening mass. — Tliere has been much 
 learning expended on this supposed mistake of Shake- 
 speare; but, as Mr. Richard Simpson pointed out in a 
 veiy able note (New Shak. Soc.'s Transactions, 1875, 
 pp. 148-150), the practice of saying mass in the evening 
 (i.e. afternoon) lingered for some time at certain places, 
 even after it had been expressly forbidden by Pius V. 
 (15GG-1572). .\t the cathedral of Verona, curious to say, 
 as late as 1824 the prohibition of evening mass was disre- 
 garded (see passage from friedrich Brenner, quoted by 
 •Simpson). The present law of the Catholic Clmrch for- 
 bids mass being said " before dawn, or later than midday, 
 . . . except in virtue of apostolic Indult" (see Addis 
 and .Vruold's Cath. Diet, sub voce, Mas.?). 
 
 163. Line 54: And with this KNIFE.— Grant ^^^lite says, 
 "Tlie ladies of Shakespeare's day customarily wore knives 
 at their girdles." Gilford has a long note in his edition of 
 Hen Jonson, vol. v. p. 221, in wliich he says: "Daggers, 
 or, as they were commonly called, knives, were worn at 
 all times, by every woman in England;" a very positive 
 assertion; but one may be excused it one asks for some 
 
 evidence of the fact, as there is no mention of such a 
 custom to be found in Drake, in Douce, or in Planche. 
 The practice of carrying knives or daggers, for the defence 
 of their chastity, seems to have been common with Italian 
 as with Spanish women. Men carried with them the knives 
 they used in eating, as we gather from Timon i. 2. 44-40: 
 
 I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : 
 Metliinks they sliould ijivite them 7uii/tout knives, 
 GooJ for their ttieat, and safer for their Hves. 
 
 Did women carry knives about them for the same pur- 
 pose? 
 
 164 Line 57: Shall be the I.ABEL to another DEED.— 
 Seals were not put on the parchment in Shakespeare's 
 time, but attached to labels. Compare Rich. II. v. 2. 56: 
 
 What seal is that which liangs without thy bosom? 
 
 165. Line 64: Commission here means, in spite of Ul- 
 rici's objection, "authority," "power." 
 
 166. Line 78: YONnER tower. — ^o Q. 1; any <}i\. Ff. 
 There is no material in Brooke's poem for this speech of 
 Juliet's, though there is for her soliloquy in sc. 3 of this 
 act. Shakespeare seems to have been desirous to bring 
 out, as strongly as possible, the way in which Juliet's 
 youtliful mind had been impressed by liorrible pictures 
 of "vaults and charnel houses." 
 
 167. Line 83: REEKY shanks.— Reeky n\Q3.\\i liere 'ex- 
 haling foul odours:" reeehy -\\%eA in Hamlet, iii 4. 184, 
 "reechy kisses" — is another form of the same word. 
 
 168. Line 88: To live unstained icife.—ihe usual read- 
 ing is "To live an unstain'd wife;" but as F. 1 has un- 
 stained, and not unstain'd, we have omitted the an, as 
 having very probably been inserted by mistake. 
 
 169. Line 94: distilled.— So Q. 1; distilling Qq. Ff. 
 Grant Wliite reluctantly prints distilled; for he says dis- 
 tilling may " have been put for distilled according to the 
 common practice of Shakespeare's time;" or it may have 
 been used in the sense of distilling through the system, 
 as the "leperous distilinent" poured in the ears of Ham- 
 let's father. (See Hamlet, i. 5. 64-70.) Tliis is one of tlie 
 many emendations adopted from Q. 1 : perhaps the Ger- 
 man critics are right who deprecate the extent to which 
 the text of this play, as revised in Q. 2, has been patched 
 witli bits of the old unrevised Q. 1. However, we must 
 remember that we have no copy of the text, whicli had the 
 advantage of revision by Shakespeare liimself wlieu pa.ss- 
 Ing through the press. 
 
 170. Line 100: To PALY ashes.— So Q. 5; Too paly, Q. 4: 
 Too many, Q. 2, Q. 3; To many, F. 1; To mealy, F. 2, F. 3. 
 F. 4. Paly, which is used by Shakespeare in two othei- 
 passages (Henry V. iv. Chorus, 8; and II. Hem y VI. iii. 
 2. 141), is a form of pale; similar to /(»r/y = liuge, wliich 
 occurs twice in Brooke's poem, "with hugy Iieapes of 
 harmes" (line 1249); and again (line 2053). 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 171. Line 0: 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own 
 fingers. — Steevens quotes Puttenham's Arte of English 
 Poesie (1589, p. 157) : 
 
 As the olde cotke Crowes so doeth the chick: 
 A bad cooke t/i{tf cannot his ovine fingers lick. 
 
 24»
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO KOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 172. Line 2G: And gare him what bkpomed love 1 might. 
 — Delius rightly explains hecomcd : " It is not precisely 
 the same as heeuming love ; but such love as ivas, not is 
 befitting." 
 
 173. Line 30: 'Tis now near 7iiijht- Juliet left in the 
 early morning to go to Friar Laurence; she met Paris at 
 the convent, and afterwards went to confession; she coiiUl 
 not have remained there all day; yet now Lady Capulet 
 says it is near 7iight, This confusion as to time arose 
 from Shakespeare's deviating, for the sake of dramatic 
 couceutration, from his original. In Brooke's poem, 
 Juliet, on returning from the Friar, meets her mother at 
 the door of her home, and thus addresses her: 
 
 Madame, at Sainct Frauncis churche / haue I this morning byn, 
 M'here I did make abode / a longer while (percase) 
 Then dewty would ; yet haue I not / been absent from this place 
 So long a while. (Lines 2200-2203). 
 
 Lady Capulet then goes to tell her husband, who at 
 once goes to Paris to arrange for the marriage "on wens- 
 day next." Tlie delay involved by these incidents would 
 have retarded the dramatic action too much; and there- 
 fore Shakespeare, very wisely, condenses the narration at 
 this point. It was on Slonday (see 4. 19 of this act) 
 that Capulet arranged with Paris for the marriage to take 
 place; first fixing We<liiesday, and then, as that was too 
 soon, the next day, Thursday. In the i)oeni Wednesday 
 was the day fixed, anil to tliat Shakespeare now adheres, 
 as, in consequence of Juliet's unexpected compliance 
 with her father's wishes, he now fixes the marriage fur 
 the next day (see above, line 37), "we'll to church to- 
 morroto," i.e. Wednesday: this conversation taking place 
 on Tuesday 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 174. Line 2: 1 jtray thee, leave me to myself to-night. — 
 Tlie Nurse, it would seem, was a sort of duenna, and slept 
 in Juliet's room. In Brooke's poem, which Sliakespeare 
 at tliis point follows very closely, the scene in which 
 Juliet gets rid of the Nurse is thus introduced : 
 
 In Juliet's chamber was / her wonted vse to lye; 
 
 Wherefore her mibtres. dreading that / she should her work descrye, 
 
 As sone as she began / her pallet to vnfold. 
 
 Thinking to lye that night where she / was wont to lye of olde, 
 
 Doth gently pray her seeke / her lodgeing some where els. 
 
 (Lines 2319-2323). 
 
 175. Line C: do you need my help.— So Q. 1: the other 
 old copies read : ho? need you my heli)? 
 
 176. Line 22: Must I of force lie married to the county f 
 —This again is from Q 1. The much tamer reading of 
 the other Q(i. Ff. being : 
 
 Shall I lie man ted then to-morrim' mcyiiin^l 
 
 177. Line 23: this shall forbid it:— lie thou there. In 
 Q. 1 this line is given thus: 
 
 This shall forbid it. k'lii/e. lye tliou there. 
 
 The knife being the one already mentioned in 1. 54 of 
 this act (see note 1C3). 
 
 178. Line 29: For he hath still been tried a holy man. — 
 After this line, in the simiewhat bald version of this speech 
 in Q. 1, follows this line: 
 
 I will not entcrt.Tine so bad a thought. 
 
 250 
 
 Steevens, who is followed l)y many editors, incorporated 
 this line in the text on the ground that it "seems neces- 
 sary to the completeness of the rejection of Juliet's sus- 
 picion of the Friar." But Vlrici ably refutes this view in 
 a long note: the point of which is that the agitation of 
 Juliet's mind, as Shakespeare has portrayed it, is more 
 strongly brought out if her suspicion of the Friar, naturally 
 aroused, is not completely allayed. 
 
 179. Line 47: Ajid shrieks like JIANriRAKES', torn out of 
 the cart/).— The popular sui)orstitions as to the mandrake 
 or tnandragora arc fre(iuciitly alluded to in our old 
 dramatists. An interesting account of this plant, and of 
 the legends attached to it, will be found in Ellacombe's 
 Plant Lore of Sliakespeare, pp. 117-119. 
 
 180. Line 5S : Romeo ! I come. This do I drink to thee. 
 —So Q. 1. In the other Qq. and Ff. the line'(substantially) 
 runs thus: "Jlomeo, Ilomco, Romeo, heere's drinke, I drinke 
 to thee." Tlie hecre 's drinke has evidently got into the 
 text from a stage direction, here drink. Such mistakes 
 occur constantly in the original texts of our old drama- 
 tists. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 181. Line 4: The curfewbell hath rung, 't is three o'clock. 
 —The curfewbell, as is well known, was rung only in the 
 evening; but this means probably what is generally called 
 " the matins-bell," a bell rung at dawn ; it was the same 
 bell on which the curfew-bell was rung, and so Shakespeare 
 here calls it the curfcw-hell. 
 
 182. LineC: cot-quean.— This word had two meanings: 
 (1) a henpecked husband, (2) a man who meddles with 
 affairs which belong properly to women. In the latter 
 sense, it is used, frequently, from Sliakespeare's time down 
 to the beginning of the eighteenth century. It occurs 
 
 t in the Spectator (No. 482). A similar word, cuc-quean 
 (sometimes written cvt-qvean) meant a she-cuckold. The 
 whole of this scene, though properly omitted on the stage, 
 serves to bring out the fussy, nervously-irritable char- 
 acter of Capulet, who is evidently drawn from nature by 
 Shakespeare; he is just the kind of man to heap coarse 
 abuse on his daughter one moment, and the next to utter 
 passionate expressions of grief over her dead body. 
 
 183. Line 11: Ay. you have been a MOUSE-UUNT in your 
 time.— This word, mouse-hunt, is generally explained to 
 mean a marten or a stoat; it would seem that animals of 
 the weasel tribe enjoyed, as to amativeness, much the 
 same character as cats. Cassio calls Bianca a fitchew, 
 i.e. polecat (Othello, iv. 1. 150). But mouse-hunt, it has 
 been suggested, may also mean one who goes after 
 women; mouse being a favourite term of endearment. 
 In Day's Law Trickes, act iii. Winifrede, speaking of her- 
 self, says: "especially such old mowsers as I haue beene 
 in my time " [ Works, p. 43 (of play) ]. 
 
 184. Line 13: A jealous hood.— In none of the old copies 
 are these two words hyphened, exi'ept in F. 4. Some 
 critics think it is a wt)rd formed on the model of woman- 
 hood, but hood here is probably a separate word.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 185. Line 2: slug-a-hed. — Cotgrave gives this word under 
 donna rt : I cannot find any other instance of its use. 
 
 186. Line 6 : Set vp hu rest. — This expression is un- 
 doubtedly derived from the Spanish game of primero, 
 whicli was very pop uhir in England. It means not "to 
 stand on your hand," but to put up all you intend to bet 
 on your cards. The Spanish phi-ase is ecliar el resto, "to 
 throw down your stake." Set up should be lay dotvn; 
 but, as Keightley pointed out, this form of the expression 
 arose from the piUng up the coin in front of your cards. 
 Tu set U2} your rest came to mean " to be determined ; " 
 the ambiguous use of set tip naturally led Steevens to 
 think that the expression was derived from the setting up 
 a rest for the harquebuss in firing; but this explanation 
 is quite abandoned. 
 
 187. Line 32: Ties up my tongue, and will not let me 
 ^yjcn/f.— Shakespeare was here thinking more of Brooke's 
 poem than of his own play. In the poem Capulet's grief 
 is thus described (lines 2451-2454) : 
 
 But more than all tlie rest / the fathers hart was so 
 
 Smit with the heavy newes, and so / shut vp with sodain woe. 
 
 That he ne had the powre / his daughter to bewepe, 
 
 Ne yet to speake, but long is fors'd / his teares and plaint to kepe. 
 
 Such dignified sorrow would have been out of keeping 
 with the Capulet that Shakespeare has drawn. 
 
 188. Line 33: Fri. L. Come, is the hride ready to go to 
 church >—1his line is given by Q. 1 to Taris, and I believe 
 rightly. It is to be remarked that Capulet, in his answer, 
 addresses Paris : it is more natural the question should 
 have come from the bridegroom than from Friar Laurence, 
 who knew in what a condition Juliet was. 
 
 189. Line 3G: Hath Death lainvith f/ij/i/'i/c— Euripides 
 has the same conceit (Iphig. in Aul. ver. 460), and it occurs 
 twice In Dekker; in Satiromastix (Works, vol. 1. p. 252), 
 and in his Wonderful Yeare (according to Steevens). 
 
 190. Lines 49-54. — This speech of the Nurse's might have 
 adorned tlie celebrated play of Pyramus and Thisbe. 
 It is one of the many proofs of the early period at which 
 this play was written. 
 
 191. Lines 80, 81 : 
 
 and, as the custom is. 
 In all her best array hear her to church. 
 That amusing traveller, Tom Coryat, thus describes a 
 funeral in Venice : " For they carry the corse to church 
 with face, hands, and feet all naked, and wearing the same 
 apparel that the person wore lately before it died, or that 
 which it craved to be buried in; which apparel is interred 
 together with their bodies " (Crudities, vol. ii. p. 27). 
 
 192. Line 101: Enter Peter.— Q. 2, Enter Will Kemp. 
 Q. 3, Enter WILL Kempe (the name of the actor who 
 played Peter). This scene takes the place, as Knight has 
 pointed out, of the comic interludes which used to be in- 
 troduced in the old plays to fill uj) what, with us, would 
 be called " the waits between the acts." Plays were not 
 at this time divided into acts, but at certain pau.ses in 
 the action the poi)ular "low comedian" or "cloion" came 
 on and talked more or less nonsense with some of the 
 
 characters, or sometimes soliloquized, or even spoke to 
 the audience. Nothing could well be sillier than this 
 scene, except some of the countless similar scenes which 
 are found in Shakespeare's predecessors and contempo- 
 raries. 
 
 193. Line 107: "My heart is full of tcoe."— This was the 
 burden of a song given in the Pepys Collection, called 
 "A Pleasant new Ballad of two Lovers" "Heart's ease" 
 was a popular tune given in Chappell's Popular Music of 
 the Olden Time, vol. i. p. 209 (2nd edn.). 
 
 194. Line 108 : some merry dump.— A dump was a slow 
 dance; see Day's Humour out of Breath, ii. 2, "an Italian 
 dum2)e or a French brawle " [ Works, p. 31 (of play)]. It 
 was also used for a dirge, an elegiac lament, or any sad 
 tune or song; the word had not the colloquial or ridiculous 
 meaning that it has now. 
 
 195. Line 116: / ^vill give you the minstrel.— T\\\% phrase 
 has been explained as a kind of pun on the strength of an 
 assertion of Douce that "minstrels were anciently called 
 gleek men or glig men." Peter, being asked what he will 
 give the musicians, answers " no money, on my faith, but 
 the glcelc," that is, as some explain, " I will play a jest or 
 trick on you," or "I will give you a scoff, a mocking 
 answer; I will give you the minstrel." There is no instance 
 of gleek man being used for a minstrel, nor is glig man 
 given in any glossary that I can find; so that Douce's 
 statement must be taken as a mere assertion. Glig is 
 certainly an old A. Sax. form of glee, and minstrels were 
 called glee-men; but the connection between glig and 
 gleek is purely imaginary. From the retort of the musi- 
 cian "I will give you the serving-creature," it is most pro- 
 bable Peter's expression was nothing more than a piece of 
 nonsense coined for the occasion. 
 
 196. Line 119: / will carry no crotchets. — This is evi- 
 dently a humorous adaptation of the phrase "I will carry 
 no coals." See note 3 of this play. 
 
 197. Linel2S: "When griping grief ," &c. — These lines are 
 from The Paradise of Daintie Devises by Richard Edwards, 
 the author of the old play Damon and Pythias, 1571. 
 Griping grief seems to have been a favourite poetical ex- 
 pression of this time. As to music ivith her silver sound, 
 we find in The Two Meiry Milk-Maids, a comedy by J. C. 
 (1020), i. 2 : 
 
 for musicke mth his Stiver Knel 
 rings us all in at the blew Bell. 
 
 198. Line 135: Pre»2/ .'— So Q.l; audit has been generally 
 adopted by all editors. Q. 2 has Prates: Q. 3 Ff. Protest: 
 Q. 4, Q. 5 Pratee. So again below, line 138, for Pretty too of 
 Q. 1, Prates to, Pratest to, or Pratee to are substituted. It 
 is possible Q. 3 and Ff. are right, and the reading should be 
 Pratest = Thou pratest, i.e. "You talk nonsense." Momm- 
 sen would read Prat'ee, like Look'ee, Hark'ee, &c. If we 
 are to adopt any of the readings of Q. 1, this seems cer- 
 tainly one of the most probable ones. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 199. Line \: If I may trust the flattering TRUTH of sleep. 
 — Q. 1 has eye of sleep, although other Qq. and Ff. have 
 truth. Various emendations have been suggested, sooth, 
 
 251
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 ruth, soother sleep, &c. Kinnear, in his Cruces Shakesp. 
 lias the "flattering toys of deep," quoting from Winter's 
 Tale, iii. 3. 39, "Dreams are toys;" but this is not very 
 ilecisive. Eye in the sense of sight is certainly (luite as 
 intelligible as truth. I would suggest that troth (though 
 only aiiotlier form of truth) was, very probably, the word 
 really intended in Q. 2, and following early editions. 
 
 200. Lines 2-11 : This joyful presage of Romeo's dreams, 
 just as he is going to hear what proves the doubly fatal 
 news of Juliet's (supposed) death, is one of the most 
 dramatic touches in the play. The whole of this scene is 
 remarkable for its quiet strength. 
 
 201. Line 15: IIow doth my lady.' that I ask again. — 
 If. 1 reads, "How fares my Juliet?" Qq. Ff. read, How 
 doth my Lady Juliet.' which looks like a mi.xture of the 
 reading of Q. 1 and the reading given in the text. The 
 e.xact repetition of the same words is more forcible than 
 any variation of the sentence. 
 
 202. Line 24: 
 
 Is it even so? [He i)anses, overcome by his grief.] 
 then J defy you, stars! 
 Printed in Ff. as two lines; probably to indicate tlie pause 
 as given in our stage-direction. Note here the concen- 
 trated majesty of grief in Romeo, e.xpressed by so few 
 and such solemn words. What a different creature is 
 this fiom the passionate boy, who Hung himself in a 
 paroxysm of tears and sobs on the ground, because he 
 was in danger of being denied the enjoyment of his new- 
 love for some days ! (iii. 3). All Qq. but Q. 1, and Ff. read 
 (/('«;/ instead of defy. Q. 1 has "defy my stars." Cer- 
 tainly, defy seems the better word. Romeo is reticent 
 liere in his grief; but how deeply he is moved is shown 
 by what Balthazar says (line 2S) : 
 
 Your looks are pale and wild, 
 
 203. Line 37: / do remember an apothecary. -This de- 
 scription had evidently been much elaborated from the 
 earlier draft given in Q. 1; if that be a correct version of 
 its original form. Its introduction at this point has been 
 severely criticised ; but foi' an admirable defence of its 
 propriety, see Knight's long note on the passage. 
 
 204. Line 43: An alligator sttiff'd. — This seems to have 
 been a sine-qud-non of an apothecary's shop down to a 
 much later time than Shakespeare's. (Compare Garth's 
 Dispensary.) All the details of this description are very 
 exact. 
 
 205. Line 07: that iTTKiis t}tem.—1\\e use of the verb 
 to utter, namely, "to sell to the puldic," is now only 
 preserved in the phrase "to utter false coin." 
 
 206. Line 70: Need and oppression STARETH in thine eyes. 
 — Qq. and Ff. all read starveth: the reading in the text is 
 taken from Otway's Caius Marius, in which so much is 
 borrowed from this play. Certainly there is no authority 
 for the change; and, but for the fact that it is dilficult to 
 understand how need and oppreasion could be said to 
 starve in the eye, we might scruple to adopt it. The ex- 
 pression famine is in thy cheeks, which is so forcible, is 
 surely much weakened if we retain starveth. 
 
 207. Line 76: / pay thy poverty, and not thy will. — 
 
 252 
 
 Q. 2, Q. 3, Ff. all read pray; and though this reading has 
 
 been almost universally rejected, it may be the right one; 
 the meaning being, " I pray^i.e. 1 address my reciuest - 
 to thy poverty, and nut thy trill." 
 
 ACT V. SCKNK 2. 
 
 208. Line C; to associate me. — All members of unen- 
 closed orders, that is to say, members of religious orders 
 allowed to go out of the precincts of their monastery, 
 are enjoined, when possible, to take a companion of the 
 order with them. This injunction, which does not ainonut 
 to an absolute rule, is not, as some of the commentators 
 seem to think, peculiar to the Franciscans. 
 
 209. Line 7 : Here in this city. — For the purposes of 
 this scene, Shakespeare deviates here from the story in 
 the poem, by making the pestilence in Verona, and not 
 in Mantua. 
 
 ACT V. ScKN-E 3. 
 
 210. Churchyard, etc. —Hunter thinks that ".Shake- 
 speare, or some writer whom he followed, had in his mind 
 the churchyard of St. Mary the Old, in Verona, and the 
 monument of the Scaligers which stood in it." This 
 monument is spoken of by Coryat as being "an exceeding 
 sumptuous mausoleum, that I saw not the like in Italy" 
 (Crudities, vol. ii. p. 114). According to Singer, the 
 lovers are said to have been buried in a vault of Fermo 
 Jfaggiore, a Franciscan monastery " which was burnt 
 down some years since. A sarcophagus, said to be that 
 of Juliet, was removed from the ruins, and is still shown 
 at Verona." But the only church of that name, San Fer- 
 mo Maggiore, is in Verona, and still exists. The sarco- 
 phagus shown as Juliet's tomb is generally considered 
 utterly unauthentic. 
 
 211. Line 3: Under yond ycio-trees. — il 1 reads thin 
 Eiv-tree: all the other Qq. and l'"f. have "yond youtig 
 trees" (Q. 4, yong). In Holland's I'linie, b. xvi., c. 10, yew 
 is yugh. Chaucer writes it ew; Spencer eugh; Dryden 
 has yeugh (Virgil, Georgics, b. ii.). From the reading of 
 Q. 4 it is probable the form of the word in the MS. of this 
 passage was yugh. 
 
 212. Line 8: ^4.v signal that thou hear'st .tome thing ap- 
 ^)>vwc/i.— Walker points out (vol. i. p. 223) that the accent 
 here is recpiired on tiling. P\ 1 (which, however, has 
 hearest, probably by mistake) prints some thing, as we 
 have printed it, in two words. Below (line 18), where the 
 accent is on some, F. 1 prints it as one word, something. 
 
 213. Line 21: .muffle me, night; aivh He. — Uteex ens 
 quotes Drayton's Polyolbiou: 
 
 But suclclenly tlie clouds which on the winds do fly. 
 Do muffle him ajjaine. 
 
 So Milton, in Comus, " Unmuflle ye faint stars." Tenny- 
 son uses the word muffle in tliree or four places, e.g. in 
 the Princess: 
 
 The full sea glazed with tnuffltd moonliyht; 
 
 a line intended, I imagine, to describe the light of a 
 moon, mvflled in clouds, on the sea. 
 
 214. Entek liomco, AND nalthasar.—ii. 2, Q. 3, Ff., all
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 have Enter Romeo and Peter. In Brooke and Painter 
 Peter is Romeo's servant. So in Bandello's novel he is 
 called Pietro. 
 
 215. Line 28: Why I descend into this bed of death.— 
 Tliis seems to prove that a vault, into which the descent 
 was by steps, such as is represented on Mr. Irving's stage, 
 v/as what Sliakespeare here intended to describe. 
 
 216. Line 32: In hum employmeiit.— The word dear is 
 used in many senses ; its exact derivation is disputed : 
 here it means, "sad and yet precious." See Note 223, 
 Love's Labour's Lost. 
 
 217. Line 54.— The incident of Paris and Romeo meet- 
 ing at the tomb is Shakespeare's own invention ; it is not 
 found in any known version of the play. For the beauti- 
 ful speech of Romeo's, which follows, there is no material 
 in Brooke's poem. 
 
 218. Line 68: / do DEFY thi/ CONJURATIONS.— So Q. 1, 
 undoubtedly the right reading. Q. 2 here has commir- 
 ation; the other Qq. and Ff. (substantially) cotniniseration, 
 whicli makes nonsense. Conjuration has here nothing to 
 do with any necromantic proceedings ; it simply means 
 "earnest entreaties." So in Look About You (1600), sc. 14: 
 
 What needs more coiijuialwn, gracious mother? 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. vii. p. 426. 
 
 For defy, used in the sense of refuse, compare King .John, 
 
 iii. 4. 23: 
 
 No, I dffy all counsel, all redress. 
 
 219. Line 84: a lantern. — Tliis means a round or octa- 
 gonal turret, full of windows, called a louvre or lantern, 
 by which cathedrals, lialls, and even large kitchens, are 
 sometimes lighted and ventilated. There is a beautiful 
 one in Ely Cathedral. 
 
 220. Line 90: A li(jhtning before death.— A proverbial 
 expression (Bohn's Handbook of Proverbs, p. 55). Chap- 
 man uses it twice, and we find it in the Death of Robert, 
 Earl of Huntingdon, ii. 2: 
 
 I thought it was a li^htcfiiii^ before death. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. viii. p. 266. 
 
 Jlany great and good men have died with a jest upon 
 their lips ; but the expression refers, probably, to the 
 deceptive rallying of strength and reason which often 
 takes place before death. 
 
 221. Line 92: Death, that hath svck'd the honey of thy 
 breath. — Compare the well-known passage in Hanilet (iii. 
 
 1. 163, 164): 
 
 And I, of ladies most deject and wretched. 
 That siicU'd the honey of his music vows. 
 
 222. Line 96: And death's pale flag is not advanced 
 ?/(?re.— Compare Samuel Daniel's Complaint of Rosamond: 
 
 And nought respecting Death (the last of Pains) 
 Plac'd his fa/e Colours (Ih' Ensign of his Might) 
 Upon his new-got Spoil before his Right. 
 
 —Works {edn. 1718), vol. i. p. 59. 
 
 This is one of the four passages in this act which bear so 
 strong a resemblance to passages in Daniel's poem, that 
 considering the latter work was printed, probalily, in 
 1592, tliere can be little doubt, as Malone suggests, that 
 Shakespeare had read recently Daniel's poem, "before he 
 wrote tlie last act of the present tragedy." 
 
 223. Line 115: A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! 
 —This is one of the lines which may well countenance 
 the theory tliat Sliakespeare, at one time or otlier during 
 his life, was a limb of the law. Such a legal epithet as en- 
 grossing, applied to death in so pathetic a speech, certainly 
 smacks of an attorney's ottice. 
 
 224. Lines 121, 122: 
 
 how oft to-night 
 
 Have my old feet stumbled at graves ! 
 Alluding to a popular superstition that to stumble augured 
 some coming danger or misfortune. Compare III. Heniy 
 VI. iv. 7. 11, 12: 
 
 For many men that stit7nble at the threshold, 
 Are well foretold that danger lurks within. 
 
 225. Line 137: under this yEVf-tree.—Qq. and Ff. read 
 young tree (Q. 2 yong), as in the former passage, line 3 of 
 tliis scene. If we read yew-trees there, it seems we ought 
 to read yew-tree here; young tree has no particular force 
 in this passage. It is not necessary to suppose, as I'lrici 
 suggests, that by reading yeio-trce we make Shakespeare 
 represent Balthasar and the page of County Paris as 
 sleeping under the same tree. Yew-trees were common 
 enough in churcliyards ; they were probably planted at 
 first in a belt, partly or entirely round the churchyard, 
 though in many of our old English churchyards only one 
 old tree survives. 
 
 226. Line 148: comfortable /yirtr.'— Compare King 
 Lear, i. 4. 327, 328: 
 
 yet have I left a daughter, 
 \\'ho, I am sure, is kind and comfortable. 
 
 It means here "able to give comfort." 
 
 227. Lines 163, 164: 
 
 churl '. BRINK all; and LEAVE no friendly drop 
 
 To help vie afteri 
 So Q. 1, Q. 5; but Q. 2 has drunke and left, while Q. 3, Q. 4, 
 and Ff. have: 
 
 drinke all and left no friendly drop. 
 
 It is as well to avoid tlie awkward word drunk, if possible. 
 The latter reading may be defended; "and left no friendly 
 drop," may be explained "and no friendly drop is left for 
 me." I am not certain whether a note of exclamation ( ! ) 
 would not be better than one of interrogation (?) at the 
 end of the sentence as printed in our text. 
 
 228 Line 170: there rest, and let me die.— Qq. and Ff. 
 have rust; in Q. 1 the passage runs: 
 
 O happy dagger thou shalt end my feare, 
 Hest in my bosome, thus I come to thee. 
 
 Tlie reading rust has been defended ; and certainly the 
 word is characteristic in the context, but, on the whole, 
 rest is preferable. Juliet could hardly imagine tlieir 
 bodies would remain so long undiscovered that the dagger 
 would have time to rust. 
 
 229. Line 205: And IS mis-sheathed in my daughter's 
 bosom .'—Some editors print it for is, following Q. 2. But 
 "for, lo, his house" (i.e. the dagger's sheath) "is empty 
 on the back of Montague," is a parentliesis; the and coup- 
 ling the two verbs hath mista'en (1. 203), is mis-sheathed. 
 Perhaps the right reading may be "'tis mis-sheathed." 
 
 230. Line 216: Seal up the mouth of OUTRAGE for a 
 ichile. —The ingenious author of the MS. notes in Collier's 
 
 253
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 WOEDS PECULIAR TO ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 wonderful Folio could not tolerate outrage, so he altered 
 it to ontcnj. This effort of invention was quite unneces- 
 sary, as outrage makes very good sense, indeed better 
 than outcry. Compare I. Henry VI. iv. 1. 125-127: 
 are you not asham'd 
 \\"\\\\ tliis immodest clamorous outrage 
 To trouble and disturb the king and us? 
 
 231. Line 229 el sei/.— The omission on the stage of some 
 of wliat follows on the death of the two lovers may be 
 regretted, even from a dramatic point of view. The agi- 
 tated utterances of Lady Capulet and Capulet, tlie dis- 
 covery of the bodies, and tlie arrest of the Friar and 
 Balthasar, all tend to increase the effect of the scene, 
 liut this long speech of tlie Friar's, and all that follows 
 up to within a few lines of the end, is terribly dull and 
 commonplace, and if retained in tlie acting version woukl 
 weaken the end of the tragedy. 
 
 232. Line 247: AS this dire night. — For a similar instance 
 of the redundant as compare JuL Caes. v. 1. 72, 73: 
 
 This is my birtii-d.iy; as f/iis very day 
 Was Cassius burn. 
 
 233. Line 275: This letter he early bid me give his father. 
 — Tliis is a very inharmonious line. According to Walker 
 (Vers. p. G7)and Ablxdt [Shak. Grammar (ed. 3), p. 346], 
 if»ec should here be pronounced as a monosyllable ?e«re. 
 Even theu tlie line would be better if it stood: 
 
 This letter he bid me |;ive his father early, 
 
 or, 
 
 This letter he bid nie early give his father. 
 
 234. Line 29.5: a BRACE of A-t«sme)i.— Meaning ifer- 
 cutio and Paris. See iii. 1. 114, wliere Komeo, speaking 
 of Mercutio, says: 
 
 This gentleman the prince's near ally, 
 
 and Paris, in iii. 5. 181 (according to Q. 1), is spoken of as: 
 
 A gentleman o( princely parentage. 
 
 The reading is noble in all the other copies, so that this 
 does not go for niucli; but it may be inferred he was the 
 second kinsinan intended. Brace is generally used, it 
 has been noted by Steevens, when applied to men in a 
 contemptuous sense, but tluit is certainly not the case in 
 this passage. 
 
 WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN ROMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Note.— The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 
 used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 
 The compound words marked with an asterisk (^) are printed as two separate words in Q. 2 and F. 1. 
 
 Affray (verb) . . 
 
 Agate-stone 
 
 Agile 
 
 All-cheering. . . 
 
 Alligator 
 
 Ambuscadoes. . 
 
 Amerce 
 
 Angelical 
 
 Awaking (sub.) 
 
 Baptized 
 
 Bedaubed 
 
 *Beggar-maid . . 
 
 Behovef ul 
 
 Benefice 
 
 Bepaint i 
 
 Bescreened. . . . 
 
 Betossed 
 
 Blaze - 
 
 Bow-boy 
 
 Bower (verb) . . 
 Bump (sub.). . . 
 
 Candle-holder.. 
 Cheveril (sub.). 
 Chop-logic3 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 iii. 5 33 
 
 i. 4 
 
 iii. 1 
 
 i. 1 
 
 V. 1 
 
 i. 4 
 
 iii. 1 
 
 iii. 2 
 
 111. 
 
 55 
 171 
 140 
 43 
 84 
 195 
 
 4 38 
 
 4 88 
 
 5 150 
 
 1 Venus and Adonis, 901. 
 
 - In the sense of " to make 
 public." To blaze, in the oriliii.iry 
 sense, is used in several passages. 
 
 * Chop-logic, reading of Q.l only. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 '"Church-door., iii. 
 Coach-maker... i. 
 'Cock-a-hoop... i. 
 
 ( •• 
 ■ ■ "( i. 
 Contrary (verb) i. 
 
 Cot-quean iv. 
 
 Court-cupboard i. 
 
 Collar. 
 
 Deliciousness .. ii. 
 
 *Dew-dropping i. 
 
 Dove-feathered iii. 
 
 Dove-house.. . . "i j 
 
 Dowdy ii. 
 
 Drivelling. . 
 Duellist .... 
 
 11. 
 
 II. 
 
 Earliness ii. 
 
 Earthen v. 
 
 Earth-treading i. 
 
 Easter iii. 
 
 Elf-locks i. 
 
 Endart i. 
 
 Enpierced .... i. 
 
 Death-darting, iii. 2 47 
 Death-marked, Prol. 9 
 
 Fantastico ii. 4 31 
 
 Fashion-monger ii. 4 35 
 
 Fettle iii. 5 154 
 
 254 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Field-bed ii. 
 
 *Fiery-footed.. iii. 
 
 Film (sub.) ... . i. 
 
 Fishified ii. 
 
 *Flattering-sweet ii. 
 
 Flecked ii. 
 
 Flirt-gills ii. 
 
 Franciscan .... v. 
 
 Gadding 
 
 Glooming . . . 
 Grasshopper. 
 Gray-coated . 
 Gray-eyed . . . 
 
 Hay* 
 
 Hazel (adj.). . 
 Healthsome . 
 Heartless «. . . 
 Hereabouts. . 
 High lone . .. 
 Highmosf... 
 
 Hist 
 
 Hiint's-up .. . 
 Hurdle 
 
 IV 
 
 II. 
 
 Idles (verb).. 
 "Ill-divining. 
 
 IG 
 
 V. 3 305 
 i. 4 GO 
 i. 4 64 
 ii. 3 1 
 
 ii. 6 19 
 iii. 5 54 
 
 * A term of fencing. 
 
 5 Pilgrim, 279; Lucrece,J71, 139a. 
 
 6 Sonnet, vii. 9. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 *ni-shaped v. 1 44 
 
 Immoderately, iv. 1 6 
 Inauspicious . . v. 3 111 
 
 Jaunt (sub.)... ii. 5 26 
 *Judgnient-place i. 1 109 
 
 Lady-bird 
 
 *Lammas-eve . 
 
 f ' 
 
 \ i 
 
 3 
 
 3 
 
 i. 3 
 
 i. 3 
 
 V. 3 
 
 * Lammas-tide. 
 
 Lantern ? 
 
 Lasts (.sub.).... i. 2 
 
 *Lazy-pacing 9 . ii. 2 
 
 Life-weary v. 1 
 
 "Long -experi- 
 enced'" iv. 1 
 
 Love-devouring ii. 6 
 
 Love-performing iii. 2 
 
 *Loviiig-jealous ii. 2 
 
 Lure (verb) ii. 2 
 
 *Maiden-widowed iii. 2 135 
 
 Marchpane.... i. 5 9 
 
 'Mark-man.... i. 1 212 
 
 Minim ii. 4 25 
 
 3 
 19 
 23 
 16 
 84 
 41 
 31 
 62 
 
 60 
 
 7 
 
 5 
 
 182 
 
 160 
 
 'In its architectural sense. See 
 note :;19. 
 
 8 i.e. a shoemaker's laal. 
 
 9 See note 70. 
 
 10 Lucrece, 1820.
 
 EMENDATIONS ON EOMEO AND JULIET. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 ( V. 1 29 
 
 Misadventure . | ^ 3 188 
 
 Misadventureil, Prol. 7. 
 
 Misapplied.. . . ii. 3 21 
 
 Misbehaved . . . iii. 3 143 
 
 Mis-sheathed . . v. 3 205 
 
 Mis-termed . . . iii. 3 21 
 
 Mist-like iii. 3 73 
 
 Monthly (adv.). ii. 2 110 
 
 Mouse-hunt ... iv. 4 11 
 
 Xeedly iii. 2 117 
 
 Xeighbour-staiued i. 1 89 
 *N'ew-beloved . ii. Cher. 12 
 Nick-name (sub.) ii. 1 12 
 *Nimble-pinioned ii. 5 7 
 
 O'ercovered iv. 1 82 
 
 O'erpercli ii. 2 66 
 
 Overset iii. 5 137 
 
 Pantry i. 3 102 
 
 Pastry iv. 4 2 
 
 Pilcheri iii. 1 84 
 
 _. , ( ii. 4 61 
 
 ^'"•^ Iii. 4 62 
 
 Plats 2 (verb).. i. 4 89 
 
 Poperins ii. 1 38 
 
 1 Here it means " a scabbard " 
 —pilcher = pilchard is used in 
 Twelfth Night, iii. 1. 39. 
 
 - A Lover's Complaint, 8. 
 
 3 The .Anglicised name of a 
 kind of jiear. (See foot-note to 
 text). 
 
 .\ct Sc. Line 
 
 Poultice ii. 5 65 
 
 *Precious-juiced ii. 3 8 
 
 Prick-scng ii. 4 23 
 
 Princo.v i. 5 88 
 
 Profaners i. 1 89 
 
 Proverbed .... i. 4 37 
 
 Quinces iv. 4 2 
 
 Rat-catcher.. . . iii. 1 78 
 
 Reeky! iv. 1 83 
 
 Refle.\=(sub.).. iii. 5 20 
 
 Ropery ii. 4 154 
 
 Rushed s iii. 3 26 
 
 Saint-seducing. i. 1 220 
 
 Sallow ii. 3 70 
 
 *Savage-\vild . . v. 3 37 
 
 Scant (ad v.).... i. 2 104 
 
 .Scathe (verb).. i. 5 86 
 
 Searchers v. 2 8 
 
 *Sharp-ground iii. 3 44 
 
 Sharps (sub.) . . iii. 5 28 
 
 Shoemaker i. 2 39 
 
 Silver-sweet ... ii. 2 166 
 
 Sin-absolver. . . iii. 3 50 
 
 < Supposed by some to be an- 
 other form of reeehy, which oc- 
 curs three times. 
 
 5 Used as a verb in I. Henry VI. 
 V. 4. 87. 
 
 G Used as a transitive verb. 
 See note 13(K. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Singleness''.... ii. 4 70 
 
 *Single-soled . . ii. 4 69 
 
 ''Skains mates, ii. 4 103 
 
 Slips ii. 4 51 
 
 Slowed iv. 1 16 
 
 Slug-abed iv. 5 2 
 
 Smatter iii. 5 172 
 
 Snowy i. 5 50 
 
 *Sober-suited.. iii. 2 11 
 
 *Soon-speeding v. 1 60 
 
 Stakes 9 (verb). i. 4 16 
 
 Star-crossed . . . Prol. 6. 
 
 *Still-waking.. i. 1 187 
 
 Sweeting w.... ii. 4 86 
 
 Swung i. 1 118 
 
 Tackled ii. 4 201 
 
 *Tallow face . . iii. 5 158 
 
 *Tassel-gentle . ii. 2 160 
 
 Tithe-pig i. 4 79 
 
 Top-gallant... ii. 4 202 
 
 Towards (adv.). i. 5 124 
 
 ^ Here used = simplicity. It 
 occurs in Sonnet viii. 8=celibac.v. 
 
 8 Used in a quibbling sense as 
 "a piece of false money." So 
 Venus and Adonis, 515. 
 
 9 In the sense of " to fix like a 
 stake in the ground; " in the sense 
 of "to wager" the verb is used 
 elsewhere by Shakespeare (Cyrab. 
 V. 5. 188). 
 
 10 A kind of apple. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Traces" (sub.). i. 4 61 
 
 Trim (adv.).... ii. 1 13 
 
 Tuner ii. 4 30 
 
 Unattainted. .. i. 2 90 
 
 Uncomfortable iv. 5 CO 
 
 Unharmed .... i. 1 217 
 
 Unplagued .... i. 5 19 
 
 Unseemly iii. 3 112 
 
 Un.stuffed ii. 3 37 
 
 Un talked iii. 2 7 
 
 Up-fill ii. 3 7 
 
 Up-roused .... ii. 3 40 
 
 Upturned ii. 2 29 
 
 Varsal ii. 4 219 
 
 Waddled i. 3 39 
 
 Waggon spokes i. 4 59 
 
 Waverer ii. 3 89 
 
 ( i. 5 137 
 
 Wedding-bed. I iji ^ ^3^ 
 
 *Well-apparelled i. 2 27 
 
 Wind-swift ii. 5 S 
 
 Without-book '2 
 
 (adj.) i. 4 7 
 
 Wolvish-ravening iii. 2 76 
 
 World-wearied v. 3 112 
 
 f v. 3 3 
 
 Yew-tree is (plural) | ^ ^ jg. 
 
 11 A part of the harness. 
 
 12 See note 46. 
 
 W See notes 211, 225. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 
 
 Note .\ct Sc. Line 
 
 27. i. 2. 32. Which, on more view, of many mine, being c 
 
 168. iv. 1. 88. To live unstained wife to my sweet love. 
 
 201. v. 1. 15. How doth my lady? that I ask again. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED. 
 
 Note 
 
 Act 
 
 Sc 
 
 Line 
 
 25. 
 
 1. 
 
 2. 
 
 1,5. 
 
 117. 
 
 iii. 
 
 2. 
 
 6. 
 
 199. 
 
 V. 
 
 1. 
 
 1. 
 
 229. 
 
 V. 
 
 3. 
 
 205. 
 
 233. 
 
 V. 
 
 3. 
 
 275. 
 
 She is the hopeful lady of my ee. 
 
 That run- i'-th' -ways' eyes may wink. 
 
 If I may trust the flattering troth of sleep. 
 
 And 'tis mis-sheathed. 
 
 This letter he bid me give his father early; 
 
 or, This letter he bid me early give his father. 
 
 255
 
 KING HENEY A^I.-Paet I, 
 
 NOTES AND INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MARSHALL. 
 
 17
 
 DKAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 KiN(; Hknry the yixxH. 
 
 John, Dukk of Bedford, uncle to the King, ami 
 Regent of France. 
 
 HuMPHKEV, Duke of Gloucester, uncle to the 
 King, and Protector. 
 
 Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, great-uncle 
 to the King. 
 
 He.nky Beaufort, great- uncle to the King, Bishop 
 of Winchester, and afterwards Cardinal. 
 
 John Beaufort, Karl, afterwards Duke of Somer- 
 set. 
 
 Richard Plantaoenet, son of llichard late Earl 
 of Cambridge, afterwards Duke of York. 
 
 Richard Beauchamp, Eari. of Warwick. 
 
 Thomas Mont.\gue, Earl of Salisbury. 
 
 William de la Pole, Earl of Suffolk. 
 
 Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. 
 
 John Talbot, his sjn. 
 
 Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. 
 
 Sir John Fastolfe. 
 
 Sir Willi.\m Lucy. 
 
 Sir William Glansdale. 
 
 Sir Thomas Garc.rave. 
 
 Mayor of London. 
 
 Woodvile, Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 
 Vernon, of the White Rose or York faction. 
 B.vsset, of the Red Rose or Lancaster faction. 
 A Lawyer. 
 Mortimer's Gaolers. 
 
 Charles. 
 
 Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of 
 
 Naples. 
 Philip le Bon, Duke of Burgundy. 
 John, Duke of Alen^on. 
 Bastabd of Orleans. 
 Governor of Paris. 
 
 Master Gunner of Orleans, and his Son. 
 General of the French forces in Bordeaux. 
 A French Sergeant. 
 A Porter. 
 An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle. 
 
 Margaret, daughter to Reignier, afterwards mar- 
 ried to King Henry. 
 Countess of Auvergne. 
 Joan la Pitelle, c(jmmonly called Joan of Arc. 
 
 Lords, AVardei-s of the Tower, Herahls, Officers, 
 
 Soldiers, Messengers. 
 Fiends appearing to La Pucelle. 
 
 Scene — Parti}- in England and partly in P'rance. 
 
 HISTORIC PERIOD. 
 
 From the death of Henry Y., August 31.st, 1422, to the overture of marriage made by Stiffolk to 
 Margaret on behalf of Henry VI., towards the end of 1444. 
 
 TIME OF ACTION. 
 The time of this plaj', according to Daniel, comprises eight days with intervals :- 
 
 Day 1: Act I. .Scenes 1 to 6.— Interval. 
 
 Day 2: Act II. Scenes 1 to 5. 
 
 Day 3: Act III. Scene 1. -Interval. 
 
 Day 4: Act III. Scene 2. 
 
 Day 5: .\ct III. Scene 3.— Interval. 
 
 Day 6: Act III. Scene 4; Act IV. Scene 1.— 
 
 Interval. 
 Day 7: Act IV. Scenes 2 to 7; Act V. Scenes 
 
 1 to 3. —Interval. 
 Day 8: Act V. Scenes 4, 5. 
 
 -'58
 
 KING HENRY YI.-PAET I. 
 
 IXTPiODUCTION. 
 
 LITERARY HISTORY. 
 
 As fur as we know this play was not printed 
 Ijefore it appeared, among the " Histories," in 
 the FoHo, 1623 (F. 1). It will be more con- 
 venient to treat this play separate from the 
 other two parts of Henry VI. as it was derived 
 from a totally different source. What that 
 source was we do not know ; but there can be 
 little doubt, as far as the internal evidence goes, 
 that he founded it on some old play, written 
 perhaps by more than one author. There are 
 traces of Shakespeai'e's hand in the language 
 of some of the scenes, as well as in part of the 
 dramatic construction ; but what work he did 
 on this play, we can have little doubt, was done 
 at the very earliest period of his career as a 
 writer or adapter of plays. I shall not attempt 
 to follow many recent editors and conunenta- 
 tors in assigning, exactly and confidently, to 
 Shakesjjeare, and to the other supjaosed author 
 or authors, theii* different shares in this play. 
 Suffice it to say that the ear of one familiar 
 with Shakespeare's veisification will at once 
 protest against many of the pas.sages in this 
 play being assigned to his pen ; even allowing 
 for tlie fact that they were part of his earliest 
 work. Who the authors were of the play which 
 Shakespeare retouched we do not know. Rob- 
 ert Greene, Peele, and Marlowe, may all have 
 had some share in it ; so, at least, it has been 
 confidently stated by some editors. Lodge 
 and Nash are also supposed by some commen- 
 tators to have had a hand in its composition ; 
 but there is no external evidence on that point 
 whatsoever. There is no reason to believe 
 that Shakespeare openly co-operated with any 
 other author or authoi's in the wnting of 
 this play; it is more prol)able that he took 
 the old play, which he found in the theatre, 
 and slightly altered and improved it, having 
 
 then, in his mind, the determination to com- 
 plete the series of the plays with those two 
 which are now known as the Second and Third 
 Parts of Henry VI. Both, as we shall see, 
 when we come to consider the literary history 
 of those jjlays, were probably adaptations from 
 some other author's works. 
 
 Finally, as to the question whether the first 
 part of Henry VI. has any claim to i-ank 
 amongst Shakespeare's plays, we shall, on the 
 one side, be impressed with the fact that, 
 although he mentions Titus Andronicus, Meres 
 (Palladis Tamia, 1598) does not mention the 
 First Part of Henry VI. amongst Shakespeare's 
 tragedies. On the other hand, the fact of this 
 play being included in the First Folio is almost 
 positive proof that there is, at least, some of 
 Shakespeare's work in it. 
 
 The contemporary references to the First 
 Part of Henry VI. — considering it distinct 
 from the Second and Third Parts — consist of 
 the various entries in Henslowe's Diary, which 
 will be more projjerly considered in the Stage 
 History of the play; and the following passage 
 from Nash's "Pierce Penilesse his suj)]ilication 
 to the Diuell. 1592." Sign. F 3. [4to.]: "How 
 would it have joyed brave Talhot (the terror 
 of the French) to thinke that after hee had 
 lyne two hundred yeares in his Toombe, he 
 should triumjjhe againe on the Stage, and 
 have his bones newe embalmed with the teares 
 of ten thousand sjaectators at least, (at severall 
 times) who, in the Tragedian that represents 
 his person, imagine they behold him fresh 
 bleeding." There can be little doubt that this 
 reference is to the First Part of Henry VI., 
 as it is the only play we know of, in which 
 Talhot figures as a character ; and he is de- 
 scribed as "a terror to the French" in i. 4. 42 : 
 
 Here, .said they, is the terror of the French. 
 259
 
 KING HENRY YI.— PART I. 
 
 Also, as Stokes observes: "the word triumph 
 recalls the end of tlie sad scene of act iii., and 
 La Piicelle's words [iii. 3. 5j: 
 
 Let frantic T;ilbot triuinph for a wliile ; 
 
 whilst the reniaik al)(mt 'the spectators be- 
 holding him fresh bleeding' vividly reminds us 
 <if the beginning of act iv. sc. 7" (Chrono- 
 logical Uriler of Shakespeare's Plays, p. 9). 
 
 This l)lay was first entered in the Register 
 of Stati(jners' Hall, on 8th November, lirl^, 
 amongst thcjse of Shakes{)eare's j)lays "as are 
 not formerly entered to other men," under the 
 title of "The Third Parte of Hem-y the Sixt;" 
 but the editors of the Folio assigned to it the 
 more correct title which it now bears, and 
 jJaced it in its j)roper chronological order. 
 
 As to the exact date of the play we leaiii 
 from the entry in Henslowe's Diary, that the 
 play which he calls inditferently : "henery the 
 vj." and " hary " or " harey the vi." was pro- 
 •luced for the first time, in March, 1591 ; so 
 that when Nash s pamphlet was written there 
 was time for its popularity to have become 
 established. 
 
 With regard to the historical foundation 
 of this ]ilay Halls Chronicle appears to have 
 been extensively used as well as Holiushed. 
 It has been remarked that this play does not 
 follow Holinshed as closely as Shakesjjeare 
 <loes in his other historical plays; but it is 
 only natural that the author or authors should 
 come to Hall for many of their details, as his 
 ( "hronicle waS especially devoted to the history 
 of the wars between the two Houses of York 
 and Lancaster and their subsequent union in 
 the House of Tudor. 
 
 STAGE HISTORY. 
 
 The lirst mention we have of the perfor- 
 mance of this play is in Henslowe's Diaiyin the 
 entry referred to above (as henery the vj) 
 "by my lord Strange's mene,"i probably at the 
 Rose Theatre. It was performed in this sea- 
 son between March 7th and June 20th, 1591- 
 1592, fourteen times. 
 
 ' Lord Strange's Company was afterwards merged into 
 tlie Lord Chamberlain's Company in 1504. 
 
 260 
 
 On the occixsiou of the first representation 
 Henslowe's share of the receii)ts amounted to 
 £3, Ui.'J. 5f/., which appears to be a larger sum 
 than he obtained by the single performance of 
 any other play ; at this time he had only "half 
 the gallery " for his share. The receipts of the 
 subsecjuent ])erformances com})are very favour- 
 ably with those of most other play.s, so that 
 there can be no doubt that, for some reason 
 or other, this Jilay of Henry VI. was a very 
 ])oj)ular one. It was reproduced in the fol- 
 lowing season (January 29th to February 1st, 
 1592-1593) twice. After this we find no re- 
 cord of its performance in Henslowe, or else- 
 where. Unless we are to believe that the re- 
 collection of the defeat of the Armada in 1588 
 was still fresh in the memory of the i)ublic, it 
 is difficult to account for the great jxipularity 
 of this dramatic record of Talbijts achieve- 
 ments, on the gi'ound of there being any special 
 circumstances in the events of that year, 1592, 
 which wei'e likely to stinndate the martial 
 ardom* of the people. At that time there cer- 
 tainly was an English force, under the com- 
 mand of the Earl of Essex, fighting on French 
 soil. It was engageil in helping the King of 
 Fi'ance against the Spaniards ; but there does 
 not ap])ear to have been amongst them an}' 
 commander who could, by any stretch of ima- 
 gination, be compared to the great Talbot. 
 
 There is notliing to show, as far as Hen- 
 slowe's Diary is concei-ned, whether this play 
 of "henery the vj," as he calls it, was the old 
 play before, or after, it had been retouched by 
 Shakespeare; but there can Ite little doubt it 
 was the First Part of Henry VI. pretty well 
 ;is we have it in the First Folio, and that it 
 was the same play as that referrefl to by Nash 
 in the passage quoted above. 
 
 The only record w-e can find in Genest of 
 the performance of this play, or rather of 
 Shakespe;u-e's version of it, is at Covent Gar- 
 den, March 13th, 1738: "By desire of several 
 Ladies of Quality — for Delane's benefit, and 
 not acted fifty yeare, Henry 6th part 1st" 
 (vol. iii. p. 555). As a fact, Shakespeare's play 
 had never Ijeen acted, as far as we can trace, 
 since his own time. The part of Talbot was 
 taken by Delane ; that of Suffolk by Walker, 
 and La Pucelle by Mi's. Hallam. It does not
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ap])ear that the play was ever repeated. It 
 formed one of the many revivals of Shake- 
 speare's historical plays which took place at 
 this period, apjiareiitly at the desire of some 
 "Ladies of Qu;dity." Whoever they were, it 
 is very much to their credit that they should 
 have caused a revival, if only for a very short 
 period, of many of the plays of our greatest 
 dramatic author, which had never been re- 
 presented since the re-establishment of theatres 
 at the Restoration. 
 
 At Dorset Garden, in 1681, was produced 
 "Heniy 6th, part 1st, with the Murder of 
 Humjjhrey Duke of Gloucester" (Genest, 
 vol. i. p. 302). It was an alteration of Shake- 
 speare by John Crown or Crowne. Of this 
 l)lay Genest saj's that it " is chiefly made up 
 of the first three acts of Shakspeare's Henry 
 the 6th — ])art 2d — it ends with a naiTation of 
 Sutfolk's death, and with the breaking out of 
 Clade's i-ebellion — Cixiwn hasenlai'ged the jjai-ts 
 of the Queen, Suffolk, and the Cardinal — he 
 sometimes uses Shakespeare's own words, and 
 sometimes alters them, making large additions 
 of his own. — Dr. Johnson says of the scene in 
 which Cardinal Beaufort dies, that the beau- 
 ties of it rise out of nature and truth, the 
 superticial reader cannot miss tliem ; the pro- 
 found can imagine nothing beyond them — yet 
 even in this scene Crown has made insipid 
 additions — it is preceded by about 30 or 40 
 lines — Gloucester's Ghost ap2)ears to the Car- 
 dinal — and he falls into a swoon — In the Pro- 
 logue Crown professes to have mended a good 
 old play — adding — 
 
 ' To-day we bring old gather'd herbs 't is true, 
 B\it such as in sweet Shakspeare's garden grew. 
 And all his plants immortal you esteem, 
 Your mouths are never out of taste with him.' 
 
 * * * He concludes the Prologue with say- 
 ing that he had sprinkled — 'A little vinegar 
 agiiinst the Pope.'" Genest adds: "He should 
 have said — not a little" (vol. i. p. 303). Lang- 
 baine tells us that it was printed in quarto 
 "and dedicated to Sr Charles Si'dley" (sic). 
 He adds: "This Play was oppos'd by the Popish 
 Faction, who by their Power at Court got it 
 supprest : however it was well receiv'd by the 
 Rest of the Audience " (Account of the English 
 
 Dramatick Poets, p. 96). The otticial prohibi- 
 tion of this version of Crowne's does not seem 
 to have jirocured for the suppressed play any 
 factitious popularity, such as very often at- 
 taches to a play suppressed for political reasons. 
 
 Henry VI. does not seem to have been heaixl 
 of on the English stage again till Theodore 
 Gibber's adaptation produced at Drury Lane, 
 July 5th, 1723, which does not ai)i)ear, however, 
 to have contained any ^Jortion of Shakespeare's 
 First Part of Henry VI. 
 
 Neither Garrick, nor Edmund Kean, nor 
 any other of our great Shakespearian actors, 
 with one excejition, seems to have ever contem- 
 plated the representation of this play. Charles 
 Kemble, however, prepared a condensed vei- 
 sion of the three parts of Henry VI. in one 
 play, which, with the excejttion of a few words, 
 is entirely taken from Shakespeare, and as an 
 aiTangement for the stage is very ingenious. 
 We purpose printing this condensed version 
 of Kemble's — which does not apj^iear ever tf> 
 have been acted or published — at the end of 
 the Third Part of Henry VI., from the unique 
 copy in the possession of Mr. Heniy Irving. 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 It is easy to underrate the merits of this 
 play, knowing as we do that a very small 
 portion of it is Shakespeare's own woik. But 
 if we look at the purpose of it, and judge it, 
 not by the same standard with which we should 
 judge such historical plays as King John, 
 or the two parts of Henry IV., we shall find 
 that it possesses no small amount of merit. It 
 professes to be nothing more than a comjjen- 
 dious and dramatic sketch of the events which 
 led to the fatal Wars of the Roses, that con- 
 tention between the Houses of York and Lan- 
 caster with which the two other parts of 
 Henry VI. deal. If we read the play care- 
 fully and without prejudice, we must admit 
 that it fulfils this purpose very effectively. 
 We are carried along through a series of more 
 or less spirited scenes; and two of the chai'ac- 
 ters, at least, excite both our interest and sym- 
 j)athy, namely, those of Talbot and Joan of 
 Arc. The hero of this play, undoubtedly, is 
 the great Talbot, who is here represented as a 
 263
 
 KIN(J HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 thoroiigli type of that heroic Eiiglisliiiiaii who 
 even in these degenerate days is not, thank 
 Heaven, an extinct being. We know from 
 contemjjoraiy records that this play, either in 
 its original edition, or after it had been touched 
 lip by Shake.speare, was a veiy popular one. 
 Men and women were to be found in those 
 days, who would flock to a theatre to witness 
 a mimic representation of the brave deeds of 
 such a hen) as Talbot, even as they might be 
 found nowadays, though perhaps in a lower 
 rank of life, crowding the theatre where the 
 heroic deeds of a (rordon were represented. 
 The scenes, in which Talbot is the chief figure, 
 are among the l)est in this play; and in act ii. 
 a very powerful dramatic situation is only just 
 missed. Had Shakespeare dealt with this 
 play as he dealt with his material in other 
 cases, he would have made of the scene between 
 Talbot and the Countess of Auvergne very 
 much more than is made of it in the play 
 befoiv us. In fact, as long as we are allowed 
 to follow Talbot's fortunes, without the inter- 
 ruption of those tedious quarrels between 
 Gloucester and Winchester, our interest never 
 flags; while in the scene between the great 
 general and his son, when the shadow ,of death 
 lies dark and heavy on them both, a degree 
 of pathos is reached far abijve the general 
 standard of the chronicle plays. 
 
 With regard to Joan of Arc, her character 
 is drawn with a very vague and uncertain 
 touch. It is almost impossible to say whether 
 the author intended to admire her as a hero- 
 ine, or to desjiise her as an impostor. Every 
 now and then, the genuineness of her en- 
 thusiasm, the nobleness oi her self-sacrifice, 
 and the almost superhuman courage which 
 she displays — courage moral as well as phy- 
 sical — lead us to believe that the author in 
 his own heart was above that vulgar and 
 debased prejudice which would deform this 
 heroic girl into a charlatan and strumpet. 
 Such a height does this inconsistency attain 
 in act V. scene 4 that it is really im])o.ssible to 
 understand the aut}K)r's drift, uidess we are to 
 imagine that, in ministering to the worst pre- 
 judices of the spectators, he was deliberately 
 .sacrificing his own convictions. There- is a 
 genuine ring in the speech, addressed by her 
 262 
 
 to her J^nglish ])erseciitors, which is certainly 
 not to be found in the absolutely inconsistent 
 and cowardly pleas which she makes for a 
 re.spite of her sentence. Nor is the scene l)e- 
 tween her aiid the fiends (act v. scene 3) dra- 
 matically credible. It strikes one as written 
 in to please the vulgar, and to have been no 
 part of the play as originally designed by the 
 author. The renunciation of her father, at the 
 beginning of act v. scene 4, is equally difhcult 
 to reconcile with her character in other parts 
 of the play. There seems to be no object in 
 her claiming to be of noble birth, when she 
 herself, in act i. scene 2, has proudly declared 
 that .she is really a shepherd's daughter. The 
 author does not succeed in conveying to us — 
 supposing that such was his intention — the 
 impression that Joan was a hypocrite or a con- 
 scious imjwstor. Whether her visions were 
 real or imaginary, there can be no doubt that 
 .she herself thoroughly believed in them. It 
 is on her religious mission that she lays the 
 greatest stress throughout. It is by her faith 
 in this religious mission that she is sustained 
 through every difficulty, that she is proof 
 against physical fear, and — what is still more 
 remarkable — })roof against the discouragement 
 which defeat, in her difficult and anomalous 
 position, might fairly inspire. We feel at the 
 end of this jday that, in spite of her supposed 
 traffic with fiends, or her miseralile self-ac- 
 cusation of incontinency, it is by her faith and 
 by her purity that she will be enabled to meet 
 the terrible death, to which she is condemned, 
 without any outward sign or inwai'd feeling of 
 fear. Let it be understood that we are not 
 now discussing Joan of Arc from the historic 
 2)oint of view, but from the dramatic point 
 of view, in which, on the whole, she is pre- 
 sented to us in this play. While we are on 
 this subject it may not be out of place to re- 
 mark that it would have been a daring thing 
 for any dramatist, in the time of the great 
 "virgin queen" Elizabeth, to have attempted, 
 too boldly or too openly, to exalt into a heroine 
 the French jieasant girl who, undoubtedly, did 
 rescue her country from the domination of a 
 foreign j^ower. Joan did something more than 
 mount a horse at the head of her troops, and 
 address to them inspiriting harangues. Per-
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 haps Elizabeth would have done quite as nuich, 
 had she had the opportunity. 
 
 The construction of this play, always keejj- 
 ing in view its object and the vast number of 
 incidents which it embraces, is not by any 
 means so unskilful as that of many other con- 
 temporary plays, including even some of those 
 to which Shakesi^eare can fairly lay claim as 
 his own. The dramatist evidently set before 
 himself the task of showing how the great 
 Civil War began, and how the evils, which 
 beset the reign of Henry VI., had their pri- 
 mary origin in his nnhaijpy marriage with 
 Regnier's daughter. A})propriately enough the 
 play ends with the speech of the treacherous 
 Suffolk, setting forth the jjurpose which he but 
 too well fulfilled. There are many passages 
 which we might detach from the whole, pass- 
 ages which, in spite of the unskilful treatment 
 of the blank verse, are yet full of vigour, aiid 
 by no means unworthy of Shakespeare's pen. 
 Such for instance is the speech of the Third 
 Messenger in act i. scene 1; Talbot's speech 
 in act i. scene 4, descriptive of his own treat- 
 ment by the French; the whole of the scene 
 between Mortimer and Richard Plantagenet, 
 containing some masterly touches of pathos; 
 the scene between Winchester and Gloucester, 
 act iii. scene 1; Pucelle's appeal to Burgundy; 
 Talbot's denunciation of the cowardice of Fas- 
 tolfe, and, notably, King Henry's speech in 
 
 the same scene. Of the scene between Talbot 
 and his son we have already spoken; this is 
 generally admitted to be one of those which 
 bears most traces of Shakespeare's hand. Cer- 
 tainly it also bears traces of belonging to his 
 eaiiiest period, and has evidently not been re- 
 vised with any care; nor has it enjoyed those 
 finishing touches which it was his delight to 
 put to those of his works, either adopted or of 
 his own creation, for which he felt particular 
 affection; but thei'e is true feeling and dra- 
 matic power in both the scenes between father 
 and son. Talbot's dying speech in act iv. 
 scene 7 is a very fine one; and the scene be- 
 tween Suffolk and Margaret, though somewhat 
 disfigured by the number of '^Asides" in it, is 
 nevertheless very dramatic. 
 
 Finally we may dismiss this play with an 
 exhortation to all students of Shakespeare not 
 to slight it, but rather to study it as a most 
 interesting specimen of the dramatic literature 
 of our country in the time of Shakespeare's 
 youth; a period which, fi-om the vigour and 
 l>rilliancy of some of the woi'k which it pro- 
 duced, was no unfit herald to the twenty years 
 when Shakespeare's sun eclii)sed all the lesser 
 lights of the poetic heaven, those years which 
 gave to us the most noble storehouse of gre;it 
 thoughts, of tender sentiments, and of subtle 
 analysis of human nature which the literature 
 of any country possesses. 
 263
 
 KING HENEY VI.-PAET I. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. Westminster Ahhe//. 
 
 Dead March. The Corpse of Kikg Henry 
 the Fifth, in state, is hrowjht in, attended 
 on hy the Duke of Bedford, Regent of 
 France; the Duke of Gloster, Protector; 
 the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of War- 
 wick, the Bishop of Winchester, Heralds, 
 d-e. 
 
 Bed. Hung be the heavens with black, 
 yield day to night ! 
 Comets, importing change of times and states. 
 Brandish jour crystal tresses in the sky, 
 And with them scourge the bad revolting 
 
 stars 
 That have consented unto^ Henry's death! 
 Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long I 
 England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. 
 Glo. England ne'er had a king until his 
 time. 
 Virtue he had, deserving to command : 
 ;^His brandish'd sword did blind men with 
 / his beams ; - lO 
 
 )His arras spread wider than a dragon's wings;] 
 
 1 Consented unto, conspired together to bring about 
 
 2 His beams, i.e. its (tlie sword's) beams. 
 
 His sj)arkling eyes, rejjlete with wrathful fire. 
 More dazzled and drove back his enemies 13 
 Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their 
 
 faces. 
 What should I say ? his deeds exceed all speech : 
 He ne'er lift^ up his hand but conquered. 
 Ex'e. We mourn in black : why mourn we 
 
 not in blood ? 
 Henry is dead, and nevei' shall revive : 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; 
 And death's dishonourable victory 20 
 
 We with our stately presence glorify. 
 Like captives bound to a triumphant car. 
 Q What I shall we curse the planets of mishap '/ 
 That plotted thus our glory's overthrow ? ^ 
 
 Or shall we think the subtle-witted French } 
 Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, / 
 By magic verses have contriv'd his end ? ] 
 Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of 
 
 kings. 
 Unto the French the dreadful judgment-uay 
 So dreadful will not be as was his sight.* 30 
 The battles of the Loi-d of hosts he fought : 
 The church's prayers made him so prosperous. 
 
 3 Lift, old form of past tense = lifted. 
 * His sight, i.e. the sight of him. 
 
 2 fin
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 tilo. The cliurcli ! wliere is \t] Had luit 
 churL-bnu'ii prayVl, s.i 
 
 His thread of life had not so soon decay'd : 
 None do you like but an etieniinate prince, 
 Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. 
 Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art 
 protector. 
 And lookest to command tiie jirince and realm. 
 Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, 
 More than (iod or religious churchmen may. 
 (Jlo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the 
 fle.sh, 41 
 
 Aiid ne'er throughout the year to church thou 
 
 go'st. 
 Except it be to pi"ay against thy foes. 
 
 Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your 
 minds in peace I 
 Let's to the altar: — heralds, wait on us: 
 Instead of gold, we '11 offer up our arms; — 
 , , Since arms avail not now that Henry 's dead. — 
 ^ \ Q Posterity, await for wretchetl years, 
 
 When at their mothers' moist eyes Ijabes shall 
 
 suck ; 
 Our isle be made a nourish' of salt tears, .•jO 
 And none but women left to wail the dead. ]] 
 Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate : — 
 Pros])er this realm, keej) it from civil broils I 
 (_'oml)at with adverse i>lanets in the heavens ! 
 A far more glorious star thy soul will make 
 Than Julius C;esar or bright 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My honourable lords, health to you 
 
 all ! 
 Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, 
 Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture : ''O 
 
 Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Rouen, Orleans, 
 Paris, (iluysors,''^ Poictiers, are all quite lost. 
 Bed. What say'st thou, man I before dead 
 
 Henry's corse 
 Speak softly, or the loss (jf those great towns 
 Will make him burst his lead,^ and rise from 
 
 death. 
 Glo. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up? 
 If Henry were recall'd to life again. 
 These news would cause him once more yield 
 
 the ghost. 
 
 1 JVoMm/i = nurse. 
 
 2 Gvysors, i.e. Gisnrs, the capital of Le A'exin. 
 
 3 His lead, i.e. his leaden or inner coffin. 
 
 266 
 
 A'.tr. How were they lost ? what treachery 
 
 was us'd ? 
 3fess. No treachery; but want of men and 
 
 money. 
 Amongst the soldiers this is muttered. To 
 
 That here you maintjiin several factions, 
 And whilst a field should be dis2iatch'd and 
 
 fought. 
 You are disputing of your generals: 
 [|One would have lingering wars, with little 
 
 cost ; 
 Another would fly swift, but waiiteth wings; 
 A third man thinks, without expense at all, 
 By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. ] 
 Awake, awake, English nobility ! 
 Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot: 
 Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; 
 Of England's coat one half is cut away. M 
 
 A\ve. Were our tears wanting to this funeral. 
 These tidings would call forth their flowing 
 
 tides. 
 Bed. Me they concern ; Regent I am of 
 
 France. — 
 Give me my steeled coat 1 I '11 flght for France. 
 Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! 
 Q Wounds will I lend the French, instead of 
 
 eyes, ; 
 
 To wee]) their inteiniissive miseiies. ] ^ 
 
 Enter a second Messenger. 
 
 3fess. Lords, view these letters, full of l>ad 
 mischance. 
 France is revolted from the English quite, oo 
 Except some petty towns of no import : 
 The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in 
 
 Rheims ; 
 The Bastard of Orleans* with him is join'd; 
 Reignier, Duke of Anjou,'' doth take his part; 
 The Duke Alenyon flieth to his side. 
 
 Eve. The Dau])hin crown'd king! and all 
 fly to him I 
 O, whither shall we fly from this reproach ? 
 Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' 
 throats: — 
 Bedford, if thou lie slack, I '11 fight it out. 
 Bed. (iloster, why doubt'st thou of my for- 
 wardness? 100 
 
 i Orleans— Anjon, the emphasis must he laid on the 
 second syllable of Orleans, and on the Inst .syllable of 
 Anjoxi respectively, in order to make tliese two lines scan.
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, loi 
 Wherewith ah-eady France is overrun. 
 
 Enter a third Mvueagi'r. 
 
 Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your 
 
 laments, 
 Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's 
 
 hearse, 
 I must infoi'iu you of a dismal fight 
 Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the Frencli. 
 Win. What! wherein Talipot overcame? is't so? 
 Mess. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'er- 
 
 thrown: 
 The circumstance I '11 tell you more at large. 
 The tentli of August last, this dreadful lord, 
 Retiring from the siege of Orleans, ill 
 
 Having scarce full six thousand in his troojj. 
 By three and twent}' thousand of the Frencli 
 Was round encompassed and set upon. 
 No leisure had he to enrank his men; 
 He wanted pikes to set before his archers; 
 Instead whereof sharp stakes, pluck'd out of 
 
 hedges. 
 They pitched in the ground confusedly, lis 
 To keep the hoi'semen off from breaking in. 
 More than three hours the fight continued; 
 Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, 
 Enacted wonders with his sword and lance; 
 Hundreds he sent to hell, and none dur.st 
 
 stand him; 
 Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he flew : 
 The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; 
 All the whole army stood agaz'd on^ him: 
 His soldiers, sjiying his undaunted sjjirit. 
 Cried out amain, A Talbot ! ho ! a Talbot I 
 And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. 120 
 Here had the conquest fully been seal'd u]). 
 If Sir John Fastolfe had not Jilay'd the coward : 
 He, being in the vaward,- — jjlac'd behind. 
 With purpose to relieve and follow them, — 
 Cowardly fled, not having struck one .stroke. 
 Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; 
 Enclosed were they with their enemies: 
 A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's gi'ace. 
 Thrust Talbot with a sjiear into the back; 
 Whom all France, with their chief assembled 
 
 strength, 139 
 
 Durst not presume to look once in the face. 
 
 1 Agaz'd on, i.e. aghast at. 
 
 2 Vaivard, vanguard. 
 
 Bed. Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself. 
 For living idly here in pomp and ease, 142 
 
 Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid. 
 Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. 
 
 Mess. O no, he lives; but is took prisoner. 
 And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hunger- 
 ford: 
 Most of the rest .slaughter'd or took likewise. 
 Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall 
 pay: 
 I'll hale'' the Dauphin headlong from his 
 throne, — 149 
 
 \_ His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; 
 Four of their lords I '11 change for one of 
 ours. — _j '' 
 
 Farewell, my masters; t(j my task will I; 
 \_ Bonfires in Fi'ance forthwith I am to make, ■ 
 To keep our great Saint George's feast withal:]] 
 Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, 
 Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe 
 quake. 
 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is be- 
 sieg'd; . 
 
 The English army is grown weak and faint: 
 The Earl of Salisbury craves a sujiply,^ 
 And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, iiio 
 Since they, so few, watch such a midtitude. 
 Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry 
 sworn. 
 Either to quell the Dauphin utterly. 
 Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 
 Bed. I do remember 't; and here take my 
 leave. 
 To go about my preparation. \^Exit. 
 
 UIo. I '11 to the Tower, with all the haste I 
 can. 
 To view the artillery and munition; 
 And then I will proclaim young Henry king. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young 
 king is, 170 
 
 Being ordain'd his special governor; 
 And for his safety there I '11 Ijest devise. 
 
 [Exit. 
 Win. Each hath his place ami function to 
 attend : 
 I am left out; for me no thing remains. 
 But long I will not be Jack out of office: 
 
 3 Hale, drag. * Supply, i.e. of troops; reinforcements. 
 2fi7
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 The king from Eltliaiii I intend to ste-al, ITO 
 And sit at cliiefest stern of public weal. 
 
 [Kreioit. 
 
 Scene II. France. Before Orleans. 
 
 Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Charles, Alex- 
 goN, Eeignier, and others, marching irith 
 forces. 
 
 Char. Mars liis^ true moving, even as in the 
 heavens 
 So in the earth, to this day is not known: 
 Late did lie shine upon the English side; 
 Now we are victors; \\\)o\\ us he smiles. 
 What towns of any moment but we have? 
 At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans; 
 Otherwhiles^ the famish'd English, like pale 
 
 ghosts, 
 Faintly besiege us one horn* in a month. 
 
 Alen. They want their jjorridge and their 
 fat l)ull-beeves: 
 ([Either they must be dieted like mules lo 
 <' And have their provender tied to their mouths, 
 < Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. ] 
 Reig. Let's raise the siege: why lie we idly 
 hei'e ? 
 Talbot is taken, whom we wont^ to fear: 
 Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury; 
 And he may well in fretting sj^end his gall, — 
 Nor men nor money hath he to make war. 
 i 'liar. Sound, sound alarum I we will rush 
 on them. 
 Now for the honour of the forlorn* French I 
 Him I forgive my death that killeth me 20 
 When he sees me go back one foot or flee. 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums; Exciirsions; the French are beaten 
 hack hy the English udth great loss. Re-enter 
 Charles, Alen^on, Reignier, and others. 
 
 Char. Who ever saw the like? what men 
 
 have 1 1 — 
 Dogs I cowards I dastards I — I would ne'er have 
 
 fled, 
 But that they left me 'midst my enemies. 
 
 1 Mars his, a form of the possessive Mars's. 
 
 " Otheru'hiles, sometimes. " M'on< = were wont. 
 
 * Forlorn. \>erhap&= fore-lorn, or lout, i.e. who had pre- 
 viously perished ; or it may simply mean wretched, 
 miserable. 
 
 268 
 
 Reig. Tliat Salisbury's a des])erate homicide; 
 He tighteth as one weaiy of his life. 
 The other lords, like lions wanting food. 
 Do rusli ujton us as their hungry^ prey. 
 
 ^Alcn. Froi.ssart, a countryman of oui-s, re-/ 
 
 cords, / 
 
 England ail Olivers and Rowlands'' bred 30,' 
 
 . . . f 
 During the time Edward the Third did reign, t 
 
 More truly now may this be verified; / 
 
 For none but Samsons and Goliases" '' 
 
 It sendeth forth to .skirmish. One to ten ! ^ 
 
 Lean raw-bon'd ra.scals I who would e'er sujv ■ 
 
 pose ^ 
 
 They had such courage and audacity ? ] ''^ 
 
 Char. Let's leaA'e this town; for they are 
 
 hare-brain'd slaves, 
 And hunger will enforce them be more eager: 
 QOf old I know them; rather with their teeth 
 The walls they '11 tear down than forsake the 
 
 siege. 40 
 
 Reig. I think, by s-ome odd giinmals^ or- 
 
 device, 
 Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on; 
 Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. ^ 
 By my consent, we '11 even let them alone. ] 
 Alen. Be it so. 
 
 Enter the Bastard of Orleans. 
 
 Bast. Where's the Prince Daujjhin? I have 
 
 news for him. 
 Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome 
 
 to us. 
 Bast. Methinks your looks are s;id, your 
 
 cheer'-' appall'd: 
 Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? 
 Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand: 00 
 A holy maid hither with me I bring. 
 Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven. 
 Ordained is to raise this tedious siege. 
 And drive the English forth the bounds of 
 
 France. 
 Q The si)irit of deep jjrophecy she hath, ( 
 
 Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome: \ 
 
 What's past and what's to come she can^ 
 
 descry. 3 ' 
 
 ■^ Hungry = tM- which they are hungry. 
 
 c Olivers and Rowlands, alluding to Charlemagne's two 
 famous knights. ' Goliases, i.e. Goliahs or Goliaths. 
 
 » (jinniiah, an old name for part of the mechanism of a 
 watch ; literally, a double ring. ' Cheer, countenance.
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 2. 
 
 'i Speak, shall I call her in ? Q Believe my words, 
 For they are certain and unfallible. ] 
 
 V/iar. Go, call her in. [Exit Jktst<trd.'\ But 
 
 lirst, to tiy her skill, i;i» 
 
 Reignier, stand thou as Danj^hin in my 
 
 place : 
 Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern: 
 By this means shall we sound what skill she 
 hath. 
 
 Jie-cnter the Bastard of Orleans, with La 
 
 PUCELLE. 
 
 Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these 
 wondrous feats? 64 
 
 Pui'. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to be- 
 guile me? — 
 Where is the Dau2ihin \ — Come, come from 
 behind; 
 
 
 ^^-.J^fci 
 
 Vac. Lo, whilst I waited on my tender Iambs, 
 And to sun's jiarching heat display'd my cheeks, 
 God's motlier deigned to appear to me. — (Act i. 2. 76-78.) 
 
 I know thee well, thougli never seen before. 
 Be not amaz'd, there 's nothing hid from me: 
 In jirivate will I talk with thee apart. — 60 
 Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. 
 Lleig. She takes upon her bravely at first 
 
 dash. 
 Puc. Dauphin, I am by biith a .she]jherd's 
 daughter. 
 My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. 
 ;!C Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd 
 <;To shine on my contemptible estate:] 
 Lo, whilst I waited on my tendei- lambs, 
 And to sun's parching heat display'd my 
 cheeks, 
 
 God's mothei- deignetl to appear to me, 
 
 And, in a vision full of maje.sty, 
 
 Will'd me to leave my base vocation, SO 
 
 And free my country from calamity: 
 
 Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success: 
 
 Q In comjjlete glory she reveal'd herself; jl 
 
 And, whereas I was black and swart ^ before, ^ 
 
 With those clear rays which she inf us'd on me ' 
 
 That beauty am I bless'd with which you see. ]^ 
 
 Ask me what question thou canst possible. 
 
 And I will answer unpremeditated: 
 
 My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, 
 
 1 Swart, swarthy, dark-complexioned. 
 269
 
 ACT 1. Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 3. 
 
 And thou sluilt find that I exceed my sex. oo 
 Resolve on' this, — thou shalt be fortunate, 
 If thou receive me for thy warHke mate. 
 Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy 
 high terms: 
 Only this ja-oof I'll of thy valour make, — 
 In single combat thou shalt buckle- -svith me, 
 And if thou van([uishest, thy words are true; 
 Otherwise I renounce all confidence. 
 
 Pile. I am i)re})ar'd: here is my keeii-edg'd 
 sword, 
 Deck'd with live tlower -de -luces on each 
 
 side ; 
 The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's 
 churchyard, loo 
 
 Out of a deal old iron I cliose forth. 
 
 Char. Then come on, o' (lod's name; I fear 
 
 no woman. 
 Puc. And while I live, I '11 ne'er fly from a 
 man. 
 
 [//ere they Jight, and La Pucelle overcomes. 
 Char. Stay, stay thy hands I thou art an 
 Amazon, 
 And tightest with the sword of Deborah. 
 PiK'. Christ's mother helps me, else I were 
 
 too weak. 
 Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that 
 must help me : 
 J^ Q Imi)atiently I burn with thy desire;^ 
 'My heart and hands thou hast at once sub- 
 \ du'd. -\ 
 
 Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, iio 
 
 Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be: 
 'T is the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. 
 Puc. I must not yield to any rites of love, 
 For my profession 's sacred from above : 
 When I have chased all thy foes from hence, 
 Then will I think upon a recompense. 
 
 Char. Meantime look gracious on thy pros- 
 trate thrall.^ 
 \ \_Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in 
 J talk. 
 
 { Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to 
 ^ her smock ; 
 
 ^Else ne'er could he so long jirotract his speech. 
 < Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps 
 \ no mean?'' 121 
 
 1 Jtenolve mi, i.e. be sure of. - Buckle, contend. 
 
 3 Thy desire, i.e. desire for thee. 
 
 * Thrall, bondman. s Mean, moderation. 
 
 270 
 
 Alen. He may mean more than we jwor | 
 men do know: vi-i \ 
 
 These women are shrewd teni])ter.s with their ^ 
 tongues. ] ' 
 
 Reig. My loril, where are you '. what devise 
 you on? 
 Shall we give over Orleans, or no ? 
 
 J'ac. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants'. 
 
 Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. 
 
 Char. What she says, I'll confirm: we'll 
 
 fight it out. 
 J^Kc. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. 
 This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: 130 
 Ex])ect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, 
 Since I have entered into these wars. 
 Q(ilory i.s like a circle in the water. 
 Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself. 
 Till, by broad sjR-eading, it disperse to nought. 
 With Heniy's death the English circle ends; 
 Dispersed are the glories it included. 
 Now am I like that proud insulting ship / 
 
 Which Caisar and his fortune bare at once. ] ' 
 Char. Was Mahomet insj)ired Avith a dove? 
 Thou with an eagle art ins])ired, then. 141 
 
 Q Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
 Nor yet Saint Philip's daughtei's, were like ' 
 
 thee. 
 Blight star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth, ' 
 How may I reverent worship thee enougli ? ] > 
 Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the 
 
 siege. 
 Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save 
 our honours; 
 Drive them from Orleans, be innnoi'taliz'd. 
 Char. Presently we '11 try: — come, let 's away 
 about it:- — 
 No pro])liet will I trust, if she jnove false. 1.50 
 
 [Kvcinit. 
 
 ^ Scene III. London. Before the Gates of ' 
 the Toicer. 
 
 Enter the DuKK of (iLosTER, irith his Serving-'^ 
 men in blue coats. ', 
 
 (llu. I am come to survey the Tower this' 
 day: 
 Since Henry's death, I fear, there is convey- 1 
 ance.*' < 
 
 Conveyance, dishonesty.
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene :i. 
 
 ^ Where be these warders, that they wait not here? 
 ; Open the gates; 't is Gloster' that calls. 4 
 
 ; [Servants knock. 
 
 First Warder. \_Withi)i] Who's there that 
 
 knocks so imperiously? 
 First Serv. It is the uo])le Duke of Gloster.^ 
 Second Warder. [ Witldri] Whoe'er he be, 
 
 you may not be let in. 
 First Serv, Villains, answer you so the lord 
 protector? 
 
 First Warder. \Wit]tin'] The L(jrd jn-otect 
 him ! so we answer him : 
 We do no otherwise than we are will'd. lo 
 Ulo. Who willed you? or whose will stands 
 but mine? 
 There's none protector of the realm but I.— -^ 
 Break up^ the gates, I '11 be your warrantize:^ 
 Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? ;; 
 [Gloster's men rush at the Tower Gates, and' 
 Woodvile the Lieutenant speaks within. ', 
 
 (ill,. What! aril 1 (\ard ami lit-anU'd tu my fare? 
 Draw, men, for all this jirivilegeil place; 
 Blue coats tu tawny.— Priest, beware your beard. — (Act i. ;J. 4.5-47.) 
 
 ; Woodv. What noise is this? what traitors 
 
 J have we here? 15 
 
 / GIo. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I 
 
 I hear? 
 
 ; Open the gates ; here 's Gloster that would 
 
 / enter. 
 
 ( Woodv. Have patience, nol)le duke; I may 
 
 ? not open; 
 
 ("The Cardinal of Winchester forbids: 
 
 1 Gloster, to be pronounced as a trisyllable here = G2o- 
 ees-ter. 
 - Bvealc «^ = break open. » Warrantize, surety. 
 
 From him I have express commandement* 20 1 
 
 That thou nor none of thine shall be let in. / 
 
 Glo. Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizest him^ 
 
 'fore me, — i 
 
 Arrogant Winchester, that haughty jjrelate, ^ 
 AVhom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could ; 
 
 brook ? 
 Thou art no friend to God or to the king: ) 
 Ojjen the gates, or I '11 shut thee out shortly. •', 
 
 i Commandement, tbe old way of spelling cominand- 
 ment; the word here is intended to be a (luadrisyllable. 
 271
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 Serving-men. 0\w\\ tlie gates unto the loril 
 protector, 27 
 
 J We'll bui-st them open, if you come not quickly. 
 [Gloster^s Serving-men rush again 
 at the Tower Gates. 
 
 ) Enter to the Proteetor at the Tower Gates Win- 
 chester, with his Serving-men in tawni/ coats. 
 
 Win. How now, ambitious Humphrey I what 
 
 means this ( 
 O'lo. Peel'd^ j)riest, tlost thou command me 
 to be shut out? .lO 
 
 ll'ui. 1 do, thou mo.st usurping proditor,'-^ 
 ^And not protector, of the king or realm. 
 
 Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, 
 ^Thou that contriv'dst'' to murder our dead 
 J lord ; 
 
 >Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin: 
 ^I'll canvass'' thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 
 ; If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 
 } Win. Nay, stand thou back; I will not budge 
 
 a foot: 
 • This be Damascus, be tliou cursed Cain, 
 / To slay tliy brother Abel, if thou wilt. -to 
 
 ) Glo. I will not slay thee, but I '11 drive thee 
 
 > back : 
 
 /Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth 
 
 / 1 '11 use to carry thee out of this place. 
 
 ^ Win. Do what thou dar'st; T beard thee to 
 
 I thy face. 
 
 ( Glo. What I am I dar'd and 1 jearded to my 
 
 \ face ? 
 
 ^Draw, men, for all this 2)rivileged place; 
 
 ^Blue coats to tawny ^ — Priest, beware your 
 
 > beanl ; 
 
 >I mean to tug it and to cutf you soundly: 
 ^ Under my feet I '11 stamp thy cardinal's hat; 
 bin spite of jwpe or dignities of church, &0 
 
 ) Here by the cheeks I '11 drag thee \\p and down. 
 ; Win. Gloster, thou 'It answer this liefore the 
 ) pope. 
 
 > Glo. Winchester goose I I cry, a rope I a 
 ) rope I— 
 
 ;Now beat them hence; why do you let them 
 stav ? — 
 
 ' Peel'd, i.e. shaven. - Proditor, betrayer. 
 
 3 CoJi<W(;'(;st = pl<)ttedst. 
 
 ■» Canvass, a word of uncertain meaning. See note 85. 
 o Tawny, the colour of the livery wliich Winchester's 
 servants wore. 
 
 •272 
 
 Thee I "11 chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's' 
 array. — 55 
 
 Out, tiiwny coats I — out, scarlet hypocrite I / 
 
 Here Gloster's men beat out the Cardinal's men; } 
 enter, in the h urly-hurli/, the Mayor of London \ 
 and his officers. 
 
 . i 
 
 Ma//. Fie, lorils I that you, being supreme > 
 
 magistrates, 
 
 Thus contumeliously should break the peace ! 
 
 Glo. Peace, mayor I '' thou know'.st little of 
 
 my wrongs: ^ 
 
 Here's Beaufort, that regaids nor Ciod nor' 
 
 king, 00 ,^ 
 
 Hath here distrain'd" the Tower to his use. ^ 
 
 ll'i/(. Hei-e 's Gloster too, a foe to citizens, ) 
 
 One that still motions* war, and never peace, ^ 
 
 O'ei'charging your free purses with large fines; I 
 
 Tliat seeks to overthrow religion, <; 
 
 Because he is protector of the realm. 
 
 And would have annour here out of the Tower, 
 
 To crown himself king, and sujija-ess the prince. 
 
 Glo. I will not answer thee with Avords, but 
 
 blows. [I/ere they skirmisli again. 
 
 May. Nought rests for me in this tumultuous 
 
 strife, 70 
 
 But to make open proclamation: 
 
 Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst. 
 
 Off. \l{eads\ All manner of men assembled here 
 
 in arms this day against God's peace antl the king's, 
 
 we charge and command you, in his highness' name, 
 
 to repair to your several dwelling-places; and not to 
 
 wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, 
 
 henceforward, upon pain of death. 
 
 Glo. Cardinal, I '11 be no bleaker of the law : 
 
 But we shjxll meet, and break ^ our minds at 
 
 large. s-o 
 
 Win. Cilloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, 
 
 be sure: 
 
 Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's 
 
 work. 
 
 May. I'll call for cluljs,'*' if you will not 
 
 away. 
 
 This cardinal 's more haughty than the devil. 
 
 Glo. Mayor,'! farewell : thou dost but what 
 
 thou mavst. 
 
 h 
 
 c 3fai/oi; pronounced as if written major. 
 7 DLitrain'd, seized. ' Motions = incites. 
 
 » Break; broach, disclose. 
 
 10 For clubs, i.e. for the peace-offlcers, wlio were nrnied 
 with clubs. " Mayor, pronounced as a dissyllable.
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 Win. Abominable Gloster, guard thy head; 
 For I intend to have it ere^ long. 
 
 l^Exeunt, severally, Gloster and Winchester 
 with their Serving-men. 
 \ May. See the coast clear'd, and then we will 
 \ depart. — 
 
 < Good God, these nobles- should such stomachs^ 
 ^ bear ! 90 
 
 Q myself fight not once in forty year. 
 ' [Exeunt. ] 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. act I. Scene 4. 
 
 Scene IV. France. Before Orleans. 
 
 Enter, on the icalls, the Master Gunner and 
 
 his Son. 
 M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans 
 is besieg'd. 
 And how the English have the suburbs won. 
 Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at 
 them, 
 Howe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim. 
 
 M. Gun. In yonder tower, to o'erpeer the city.— (Act i. 4. 11.) 
 
 M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou 
 rul'd by me: 5 
 
 Chief master-gunner am I of this town ; 
 
 Something I must do to procure me grace. 
 
 The prince's 'spials have informed me 
 
 How the English, in the suburbs close in- 
 trench'd, 
 
 Wont* through a secret gi-ate of iron bars lo 
 
 1 Ere, to be pronounced as a dissyllable. 
 "^ These nobles, i.e. tliat these nobles. 
 8 Stomachs, angry tempers. •» Wont, are accustomed. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 In yonder tower, to o'erpeer the city; ii 
 
 And thence discover how with most advantage 
 They may vex us with shot or with assault. 
 To intercept this inconvenience, 
 A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd; 
 And even for these three days liave T watch'd, 
 If I could see them. 
 
 Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer. 
 If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word; 
 And thou shalt find me at the governor's. 20 
 
 [E.iit. 
 273 18
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 Son. Father, I warrant }'ou; take Voii no 
 care; 21 
 
 I '11 never trouble you, if I mav spy them. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Enter, on the turret, the Lords Salisbury and 
 Talbot, Sir William GLA>fSDALE, Sir 
 Thomas Gargrave, and others. 
 
 iS'd. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd 1 
 How wert thou liandled, being prisoner? 
 Or by what means got'st thou to be relea.s'(l >. 
 Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top. 
 
 > [[ T(d. The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner 
 
 'Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; 
 
 'For him was I exchang'd and ransomed. 
 
 ^ But Avith a basei- man of arms by far, so 
 
 ^Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd 
 
 ? me: 
 
 ^ Which I, disdaining, scorn 'd ; and craved death 
 
 J Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd. 
 
 ■In tine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. 
 
 -But, (), the treacherous Fa.stolfe wounds my 
 
 ', heart 1 
 
 J Whom with my bare fists I would execute, 
 
 |i If I now had him brought into my power. 
 
 ^ Sal. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert en- 
 
 ' tertain'd. ] 
 
 TaL With .scoffs, and scorns, and contume- 
 lious taunts. 
 In open market-j)lace ])roduc'd they me, 40 
 To be a public s])ectacle to all: 
 Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
 The scarecrow that affrights our children so. 
 Tlien broke I from the officers that led me, 
 And with my nails digg'd stones out of the 
 
 ground. 
 To hurl at the heholileis of my .sjianie: 
 My grisly 1 countenance made others fly; 
 None durst come near for fear of sudden death. 
 In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; 
 So great fear of my name 'niongst them was 
 spread, r>o 
 
 That they suppos'd 1 could rend bars of steel, 
 And spurn in pieces posts of adamant: 
 Wherefore a guard of chosen shot- I had. 
 That walk'd about me every minute-while; 
 And if I did but stir out of my bed, 
 Rea(h' thev were to shoot me to the heai't. 
 
 1 Grid)), grim, terrible. 
 
 - Shot, i.e. marksmen. 
 
 274 
 
 Enter the Son with a linstock: 
 
 Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you 
 
 endur'd, 
 But we w^U be I'evengVl sutticiently. 
 Now it is supper- time in Orleans: 
 Here, through this secret grate, I count each 
 
 one, I'll) 
 
 And view the Frenchmen how they fortify: 
 Let us look in; the sight will nuich delight 
 
 thee. — 
 QSir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William 
 
 Glansdalc, < 
 
 Let me have your express opinions ^ 
 
 Where is best place to make our battery next. ^ 
 
 Gar. I think, at the north gate; for there; 
 
 stand lords. 
 Glan. And I, here, at the luiKvark of the; 
 
 bridge. ] 
 TaL For aught I see, this city must be 
 
 fami.sh'd, 
 ( )r with light skirmishes enfeebled.-' 
 
 [vl shot comes from the town. Salis'ivry 
 and Gargrave fall. 
 Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched 
 
 sinners I to 
 
 \_Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woful. 
 
 man ! ] ' 
 
 Tal. What chance is this that suddenly hath 
 
 cross'd us? 
 Si)eak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst .speak; 
 How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men ? 
 QOue of thy eyes and thy cheek's side .struck 
 
 off!—] 
 Accursed tower! accursed fatal band 
 That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy ! 
 Qln thirteen l)attlcs Salisbury o'ercame; 
 Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the w\ars; < 
 AVhilst any truni]) did .sound, or drum struck 
 
 uji, so 
 
 His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. , 
 Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? though thy speech^ 
 
 doth fail, \ 
 
 One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for gi'ace:^ 
 The sun with one eye A-ieAveth all the world. — ] ! 
 Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive. 
 If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands I — 
 Bear hence his l)o(ly; I wnll help to bury it. — 
 
 * Enfeebled, pronounced here as a quadrisyllable.
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 
 
 ('QSir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? 
 /Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.] 
 Salisbuiy, cheer thy spirit with this comfort; 
 Thou shalt not die whiles — 91 
 
 He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me, 
 As who should say, "When I am dead and 
 
 gone, 
 Remember to avenge me on the French." — 
 ; Plantagenet, I will; ^and, Nero-like, 
 ;Pla3- on the lute, beholding the towns burn: 
 .'Wretched shall France be only in my name. ] 
 [Here an alecncm is heard, and it thioiders 
 and lightens. 
 What stir is this ? what tumult 's in the hea- 
 vens? 
 Whence cometh this alarum and this noise? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Jfesii. My lord, my lord, the Fiench have 
 
 gather"d head: lOO 
 
 The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle 
 
 join'd,— 
 A holy pi'ophetess new risen up,— 
 Is come with a great power^ to raise the siege. 
 [Salishurt/ lifteth himself np and groans. 
 Tal. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth 
 groan ! 
 It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd. — 
 ;Q Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you: — 
 ^ Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogiish, 
 ^Your heai'ts I'll stamp out with my horse's 
 ; heels, 
 
 >And make a quagmire of your mingled 
 ^ brains. — ] 
 
 Convey me Salisbury into his tent, no 
 
 Then we '11 try what these dastaixl Frenchmen 
 dare. 
 [Alarum. Exeunt bearing out the bodies. 
 
 Scene V. Before one of the gates of Orleans. 
 Alarums. Skirmishings. Enter Talbot pur- 
 suing the Dauphin, and drives him in, and 
 exit: then enter La Pucelle, driving Eng- 
 lishmen before her, and exit after them: then 
 re-enter Talbot. 
 
 Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and 
 my foice ? 
 
 1 Power, force, ami}'. 
 
 Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; 
 A woman clad in armour chaseth tliem. :i 
 
 Here, here .she comes. 
 
 Re-enter La Pucelle. 
 
 I '11 have a bout with thee; 
 Q Devil or devil's dam, I '11 conjure thee: ] 
 Blood will I draw on thee, — thou art a witch, — 
 And straightway give thy soul to him thou 
 serv'st. 
 Puc. Come, come, 't is only I that mu.st dis- 
 grace thee. [Here they fight. 
 Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to pre- 
 vail? 
 QMy breast I'll burst with .straining of my^ 
 courage, lo ' 
 And from my shoulders crack my arms asun- > 
 
 der. 
 But I will chastise this high-minded strum- 
 pet. 2 
 
 [They fight again. 
 Puc. [Retiring] Talbot, farewell ; thy hour 
 is not yet come: 
 I must go victual Orleans forthwith. 
 
 [A short alarum. 
 O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy 
 
 strength. 
 Go, go, cheer uj) thy hunger-st;irved men; 
 Help Salisbury to make his testament: 
 This day is ours, as many more shall be. 
 
 [La Pucelle enters the town iritJi Frencli 
 soldiers. 
 Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a pot- 
 ter's wheel ; 
 I know not where I am, noi' what I do : 20 
 A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, 
 Drives back our troops and conquers as she 
 
 lists: 
 Q So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome 
 
 stench. 
 Are from their hives and liouses driven away. ] ' 
 They call'd us, for our fierceness. English 
 
 dogs ; 
 Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 
 
 [A short alarum. 
 Hark, countrymen I either renew the figlit, 
 Or tear the lions out of England's coat;^ 
 Renounce your style,^ give sheep in lions' stead : 
 
 2 Cuat, coat of arms. 
 
 3 Style, title. 
 
 275
 
 ACT I. Scene i'.. 
 
 K1N(} HENRY VI.-^PART 1. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 I^Q Sheep nm not liulf so timorous from tlie 
 { wolf, :;o 
 
 sOr boi'se or oxen from the leopard,' 
 SAs Yon fly from your oft-subdued slaves.] 
 
 \^^{lannn. Another skirmish. 
 It will not be: — retire into your trenches: 
 You all consented unto Salisbury's death, 
 For none would strike a stroke in his re- 
 venge. — 
 Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans, 
 In spite of us or aught that we could do. 
 O, would I were to die with Salisbuiyl 
 The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 
 \_Alaruin; retreat. E.veunt Talbot and forceK. 
 
 Scene YI. The .mine. 
 
 Enter, on the trails, La Pucelle, Charles, Thr 
 Bastard of Orleans, Eeigxier, Alen(;'on, 
 and Soldiers. 
 
 I'ae. Advance- our waving colours on the 
 walls; 
 Rescu'd is Orleans from the English:"' — 
 Tlius Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her woi'd. 
 Char. Divinest creature,* Astriea's daughter, 
 How shall I honour thee for this success? 
 /QThy promises are like Adonis' gardens, 
 ^'That one day bloom'd and fi'iiitful were the 
 > next. — ] 
 
 France, triumph in thy glorious proi)hetessI — 
 Recover'd is the town of Orleans: 
 More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state, lo 
 lieiij. Why ring not out the bells through- 
 out the town '. 
 Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires 
 And feast and banquet in the open streets. 
 To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. 
 Alen. All France will be rejilcte with mirth 
 and joy, 
 When they sIkiU lie.ir how we have ]ilay'd the 
 men.^ 
 Cliar. 'Tis .loan, not we, by whom the day 
 is won; 
 For which I will divide my crown with her; 
 Q And all the jn-iests and friai-s in my realm 
 Shall in ])rocession sing her endless praise, -'o 
 A statelier pyramis" to her I'll rear ' 
 
 Than Rhodo])e"s of Memi)his ever was: ? 
 
 In memoi-y of her when she is dead, I 
 
 Her ashes, in an urn more jtrecious \ 
 
 Than the rich-jewel'd colter of Darius, 
 Transported shall be at high festivals 
 Before the kings and queens and peers of; 
 
 France. ] 
 No longer on Saint Denis will we cry. 
 But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. 
 Come in, and let us banquet royally, ;'.o 
 
 After this golden day of victory. 
 
 \Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 ACT II 
 
 Scene I. France. Before Orleans. 
 
 Enter to the gate a French Sergeant and tiro 
 Sentinels. 
 
 Serg. Sirs, take your jjlaces, and be vigilant: 
 If any noise or soldier you perceive 
 Near to the walls, by some apparent'' sign 
 Let us have knowledge at the courtW guard.^ 
 
 ' Leopard, here pronounced as a trisyllable. 
 - Advance, lift up. 
 
 ■' Englixh, pronounced as a trisyllable. 
 < Creature, liere pronounced as a trisyllable. 
 5 I'lay'd the men, i.e. play'd the part of men. 
 •"' Puramis, pyramid. ' Apparent, manifest. 
 
 * Court of guard, i >•. the irnanl-rooni, or the courtyard 
 adjoining. 
 
 276 
 
 First Sent. Sergeant, you shall. ^E.vit Ser- 
 geant.'] Thus are poor servitors, 5 
 When others sleep upon their quiet beds, 
 Constrain'tl to watch indai'kness, rain, and cold. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and 
 Force.% tvith scaling-ladders, their drums 
 beating a dead march. 
 
 Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Bur- 
 gundy,— 
 [_ By whose approach the regions of Artois, ? 
 Walloon, and Picardy are friends to us, — ] lO^ 
 This luijjpy night the Frenchmen are secure," 
 
 Secure, careless, unsuspiciou.s.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT U. Sceue 1. 
 
 Having all day caroiisVl and banc^iieted : 
 Embrace we, then, this opjjortunity, 
 As fitting best to quittance^ their deceit, 
 Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery. 
 
 Bed. Coward of France I — how much li 
 wrongs his fame, • 
 Despairing of his own arm's fortitude. 
 To join with witches and the hel2) of hell I 
 
 Bur. Traitoi's liave never other com- 
 pany. 
 
 But what 's that Pucelle, whom they term so 
 jHire ? 20 
 
 Tal. A maid, they say. 
 
 Bed. A maid I and be so martial ! 
 
 Bm: Pray G<id she prove not masculine ere 
 long; 
 ^ If underneath the standard of the French ' 
 She cairy armour, as she hath begun. ] 
 
 Tal. Well, let them practise- and converse 
 with s^iirits: 
 
 Tal. God is our fortress, in whofe conquering name 
 Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.- (Act ii. 1. 26, 27.) 
 
 God is our fortress, in whose coiKiuering 
 name 2ii 
 
 Let us resolve to scale theii' Hinty bulwarks. 
 Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow 
 
 thee. 
 Tal. Not all together: better far, I guess. 
 That we do make our entrance several ways: 
 That, if it chance the one of us do fail, .ii 
 
 The other yet may I'ise against their force. 
 Bed. Agreed: I'll to yon corner. 
 Bur. And I to this. 
 
 Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make 
 his grave. — 
 Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right 
 
 ' Quittance, requite. 
 
 - Practise, pint. 
 
 Of English Henry, shall tliis night appear 30 
 How much in duty I am bound, to both. 
 
 [The English scale the avails, crying '"'•tit. 
 George!''' "^1 Talbot!'''' and all enter the 
 toicn. 
 Sent. Arm I arm 1 the enemy doth make 
 assault I 
 
 The French leap over the valh in their shirts. 
 Enter several ways, the Bastard of Orleans, 
 ALENgoN, and Reignier, half ready and 
 hidf unready. 
 
 Alen. How now, my lords I what, all un- 
 ready'' so? 
 
 3 Unready, i.e. umhessed. 
 277
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 2. 
 
 B<(!tt. Unready! ay, and glad we .scap'd so 
 well. 40 
 
 Reig. ' T was time, T trow, to wake and leave 
 our beds, 
 Hearing ahn-iinis at our chaml)er-door.s. 
 
 Alen. (Jf all exploits since first I foUow'd 
 arms. 
 Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise 
 More venturous or desperate than this. 
 
 Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. 
 
 Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, fa- 
 vour him. 
 
 Ali'H. Here cometh Charles: I marvel how 
 he sj)ed. 
 
 Bast. Tut, holy Joan was his defensive 
 ffuanl. 
 
 Enter Charles and La Pucelle. 
 ('har. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful 
 dame? so 
 
 Didst tliou at first, to flatter us withal, 
 Make us partakers of a httle gain, 
 That now our loss might be ten times so much? 
 I'lic. Wherefore is Charles impatient with 
 his friend < 
 At all times will you have my jiower alike ? 
 Sleejjing or waking, must I still prevail, 
 Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ? — 
 Frnprovident soldiers! had your watch been 
 
 good. 
 This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. 
 ( 'har. Duke of Alen^on, this was your de- 
 faidt, (io 
 
 That, being captain of the watch to-night, 
 IJid look no better to that weighty charge. 
 .Hen. Had -all your quarters been as safely 
 kept 
 As that ■whereof I had the government. 
 We had not been thus shamefully sur})ris'd. 
 Bast. Mine was secure. 
 Reig. And so was mine, my lord. 
 
 Ohar. And, for myself, mosst part of all this 
 night, 
 Within hei'* quarter and miiie own precinct 
 [ was employ 'd in passing to and fro. 
 About relieving of the sentinels: ro 
 
 Then how, or which way, should they fir.st break 
 in? 
 
 1 Her, i.e. .loan's. 
 
 278 
 
 /'«(•. Question, my lords, no further of the 
 case, 72 
 
 How, or which way: 't is sure they found some 
 ])lace 
 
 But weakly guarded, where the breach was 
 made. 
 
 And now there rests no other shift but this; 
 
 To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd, 
 
 And lay new platforms"^ to endamage them. 
 
 Alarums. Eater an JEnglish Soldier, crying 
 ".1 Talbot! a Talbot!" They fly, leaving 
 their clothes behind. 
 
 Sold. I '11 be so bold to t;d\e what they have 
 left. 
 The cry of Talbot serves me for a swoid ; 
 For I have leaden me with many spoils, iro 
 U.sing no other weapon but his name. [Exit. 
 
 Scene II. Orleans. Within the town. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, a Cap- 
 tain, and others. 
 
 Bed. The day begins to break, and night is 
 fled, 
 Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 
 Here sound retreat, and cease our hot ])ursuit. 
 [Retreat sounded. 
 
 T<d. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, 
 And here advance^ it in the market-])lace. 
 The middle centre of this cursed town. 
 Now have I jiaid my vow unto his soul ; 
 For every drop of blood was drawn from him 
 There hath at least five Frenchmen died to- 
 night. 
 And that hereafter ages may behold lO 
 
 What ruin happened in revenge of him. 
 Within their chiefest temple I '11 erect 
 A tomb, wherein his corpse .shall be interr'd: 
 Ujion the which, that every one may read. 
 Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, 
 The treacherous manner of his mournful death 
 And what a terror he had been to France. 
 But, lords, in all our l)loody mas.sacre, 
 
 1 muse* we met not with tlie 1 )au])hin's grace, 
 His new-come chamj^ion, virtuous Joan of Ai'C, 
 Nor any of his false confederates. 21 
 
 2 I'latfnrmx, plans. 3 Advance, lift up. ■♦ Miiite, wonder.
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 Bed. 'Tis thuught, Lord Tall ..it, when the 
 fight began, -li 
 
 Eous'd on the sadden from their drowsy beds, 
 They did, amongst the troops of armed men, 
 Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. 
 
 Bur. Myself — as far as I could well dis- 
 cern 
 For smoke and dusky vapours of the night — 
 Am sui-e I scar'd the Dauijhin and his trull, 
 QWhen arm in arm they both came swiftly 
 / running, 
 
 Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves, ."O 
 
 That cr)uld not live asunder day or night. 3 
 After that things are set in order here. 
 We'll follow them with all the power we have. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. All hail, my lords! Which uf this 
 
 princely train 
 Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
 So much ap2)lauded through the realm of 
 
 France f 
 Tal. Here is the Talljot: who would speak 
 
 with him '. 
 Mes.9. The virtuous lady, ('ounte.ss of Au- 
 
 vergne. 
 With modesty admiring thy renown. 
 By me entreats, great lord, thou wouMst 
 
 vouchsafe i« 
 
 To visit her poor castle wheie she lies.' 
 That she may boa.st .she hath beheld the man 
 Whose glory fills the world with loud report. 
 Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I .see our 
 
 wars 
 Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, 
 When ladies crave to be encounterd with. — 
 You may not, my lord, de.spise her gentle suit. 
 Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world 
 
 of men 
 Could not j^revail with all their oratory, 
 Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd : — .30 
 And therefore tell her I return great thanks. 
 And in submission will attend on her. — 
 Will not your honours bear me com})auy? 
 Bed. No, truly, no; 'tis more than manners 
 
 will: 
 And I have heard it .said, unbidden guests 
 Are often welcomest when they are gone. 
 
 ' Lien, dwells. 
 
 7\d. Well then, alone, since there's no re- 
 medy, 
 I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. — 
 Come hither, captain. [ Whispers] You jier- 
 ceive my mind ? 
 Capi. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. 
 
 [B.veunt. 00 
 
 ScEXE 111. Auveryae. The Covstess's eastle. 
 
 Enter the Countess and her Porter. 
 
 Count. Porter, remember what I gave in 
 charge; 
 And when you have done so, bring the keys 
 to me. 
 Port. Madam, I will. [Ejdt. 
 
 Count. Tlie plot is laid : if all things fall out 
 right, 
 I shall as famous be by this exploit 
 As Scythian Tomyris by ( 'yrus' death. 
 Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight. 
 And his achievements of 110 less account: 
 Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine 
 
 ears, 
 To give their censure^ of these rare reports. 10 
 
 Elder Me.isenger and Talbot. 
 
 Mess. Madam, 
 According as your ladyship desir'd. 
 By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come. 
 
 Count. And he is welcome. What I is this 
 the man '. 
 
 Mess. Madam, it is. 
 
 Count. Is this the scourge of France? 
 
 Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad 
 That with his name the mothers still their 
 
 babes ? 
 I see rejiort is fabulous and false : 
 I thought T should have seen some Hercules, 
 A second Hector, for his grim aspect, -jo 
 
 And large pro^iortion of his strong-knit lind)s. 
 Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf ! 
 ^It cannot be this weak and writhled^ shrimp - 
 Should strike such terror to his enemies. ] \ 
 
 Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; 
 But since your ladyship is not at leisure, 
 I'll sort* some other time to visit you. {fHoing. 
 
 ' Censure, judgment. 
 Sort, choose. 
 
 '■> Wiitlded, wrinkled. 
 
 279
 
 ACT U. «ceue 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 3. 
 
 Count. What means lie now? Go ask him 
 
 wliitlier lie goes. 
 
 ^ Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot ; for my lady 
 
 craves 29 
 
 To know tlie cause of your abrupt (lei)aituie. 
 
 CuttiU. Is tliis the Talbot, to mueli fear'd abroad 
 That with his uame the mothers still their babes?— (.\et ii. 3. 1(1,17.) 
 
 Tal. MaiTV, for that slie's in a wrong be- 
 lief, 
 I go to certify her Talbot 's here. 
 
 Re-enter Porter iritli ki-ijs. 
 
 Count. If thou be he, then art thou j)ris(iner. 
 Tal. Prisoner! to whom? 
 Count. To nie, blood-thirsty lord ; 
 
 280 
 
 And for that cause I train'd' thee to my house. 
 Long time thy shadow hath been thrall- to me. 
 For in my gallery thy i)icture hangs : 
 But now the substance shall endure the like ; 
 And I will chain these legs and anus of tliine, 
 Tliat hast by tyranny, these many years, 40 
 Wasted our country, slain our citizens, 
 And sent our sons and hu.sbands cajjtivate.^ 
 
 Tal. [Lau(//un(/] Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth 
 shall turn to moan. 
 
 Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond* 
 To think that you have aught but Talbot's 
 
 shadow 
 Whereon to i)ractise your severity. 
 
 Count. Why, art not thou the man? 
 
 Tal. I am indeed. 
 
 Count. Then have I substance too. 
 
 Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself : oo 
 You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here ; 
 Por what you see is but the smallest part 
 And least proportion of humanity : 
 I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, 
 It is of such a spacious lofty pitch. 
 Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't. 
 
 (hunt. This is a riddling merchant for the 
 nonce ; 
 He will be here, and yet he is not here : 
 How can these contrarieties agree? 
 
 7'al. That will I show you presently. no 
 
 [He winds his horn. Drums strike up: 
 
 then a peal of ordnance. The gates 
 
 being forced, enter Soldiers. 
 
 How say you, madam? are you now })ersuaded 
 
 That Talbot is but shadow of himself? 
 
 These are his substance, sinews, arms, and 
 
 strength. 
 With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, 
 Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns. 
 And in a moment makes them desolate. 
 
 Count. Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse:'' 
 I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited. 
 And more than may be gathered by thy 
 
 shajie. 
 Let my presumption not j)rovokc thy wrath; 
 Por I am sorry that with reverence Ti 
 
 I did not entertain thee as thou art. 
 
 1 Train' d, decoyed. " Thrall, captive. 
 
 3 Captivate, made captive. * Fund, foolish. 
 
 5 Abuse, offence; or, perhaps, deception.
 
 ACT H. Sceue 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT n. Scene i. 
 
 Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady ; nor mis- 
 construe 73 
 The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
 The outward comj^osition of his body. 
 What you have done hath not offended me: 
 Nor other satisfaction do I crave, 
 But only, with your patience, that we may 
 Taste of your wine, and see what cates^ you 
 have ; 7!» 
 For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. 
 Count. With all my heart ; and think me 
 honoured 
 To feast so great a warrioi' in my house. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene IV. London. The Temple-garden. 
 
 Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and 
 Warwick; Eichard Plantagenet, Ver- 
 non, and a Laioyer. 
 
 Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what 
 means this silencg ? 
 Dare no man answer in a case of truth? 
 
 Svf. Within the Temj)le-hall we wei'e too 
 loud ; 
 The garden here is more convenient. 
 
 Flan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the 
 truth ; 
 Or else"^ was wrangling Somerset in the error? 
 Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law, 
 And never yet could frame my will to it; 
 And therefore frame the law unto my will. 
 >%in. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, 
 then, between us. lo 
 
 War. Between two hawk.s, which flies the 
 higher pitch ; 
 Between two dogs, which hath the deejjer 
 
 mouth ; ^ 
 Between two blades, which bears the better 
 
 temper: 
 Between two horses, Avhich doth bear liim* best ; 
 Between two girls, which hath the merriest 
 
 eye ;— 
 I have peiiiaps some shallow sjjirit of judg- 
 ment ; 
 But in these nice sharp quillets^ of the law. 
 Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 
 ' Cates. dainties. 
 
 3 Mouth, bark. 
 
 * Quillets, subleties. 
 
 2 Or else, or in other words. 
 ^ Bear him, i.e. cany himself. 
 
 I'laii. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly for- 
 bearance : 
 The truth appears so naked on my side, io 
 That any jiurblind eye may find it out. 
 
 Som. And on my side it is so well appareU'd, 
 So clear, so shining, and so evident 
 That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. 
 Flan. Since you are tongue-ti'd and .so loath 
 to speak. 
 In dumb significants^ proclaim your thoughts : 
 Let him that is a true-born gentleman, 
 And .stands upon the honour of his birth, 
 If he suppose that I have pleaded truth. 
 From off this briei- pluck a white rose with 
 me. 30 
 
 Som. Let him that is no coward nor no flat- 
 terer. 
 But dare maintain the party" of the tiuth. 
 Pluck a red rose from oft' this thorn with me. 
 War. I love no colours;^ and without all 
 colour 
 Of base insinuating flattery, 
 I pluck this Avhite i-ose with Plantagenet. 
 >Suf. I pluck this red rose with young Som- 
 erset ; 
 And say withal, I think he held the right. 
 Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and j^luck 
 no more. 
 Till you conclude that he, upon whose side 40 
 The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, 
 Shall yield the other in the right ojjinion. " 
 >S'oHi. Good Master Vernon, it is well ob- 
 jected :io 
 If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. 
 Flan. And I. 
 
 Ver. Then for the truth and plainness of the 
 case, 
 I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here. 
 Giving my verdict on the white rose side. 
 tSom. Prick not your finger as you pluck 
 
 it off; 
 
 Lest, bleeding, you do ])aint the white rose 
 red, 50 
 
 And fall on my side so, against your will. 
 
 6 Dumb significants, mute indications, or signs. 
 
 ■ Party, side. 
 
 * Colours, used in a double sense; in the ordinary one, 
 and in that of "prete.xts. " 
 
 "Shall yield the other, lOc. , i.e. shall admit that the 
 other is in the right. 
 
 10 ]Vell objected, well proposed. 
 281
 
 ACT 11. Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAllT I. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 4. 
 
 Vrr. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, 
 Opinion shall be surgecjn to my hurt, ry^ 
 
 And keep me on the side where still I am. 
 Som. Well, well, come on : who else ! 
 Law. Unless my study and my books be 
 false, 
 The argument you held was wrong in you ; 
 
 [To Somerset. 
 In sign Avhereof I pluck a white rose too. 
 Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argu- 
 ment ? 
 Som. Here in my scabbard, meditating that 
 Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. oi 
 Flan. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit 
 our roses; 
 For pale they look with fear, as witnensing 
 The truth on our side. 
 
 Som. No, Plantagenet, 
 
 'Tis not for fear; but anger' that thy cheeks 
 Blush for ])ure shame to counterfeit our roses. 
 And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. 
 Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somer- 
 set? 
 Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Planta- 
 genet 1 
 Plan. Ay, sharp and i)iei'cing, to maintain 
 his truth ; To 
 
 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his false- 
 hood. 
 Som. Well, I '11 find friends to wear my 
 bleeding rose. 
 That shall maintain what I have said is true, 
 Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
 Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my 
 hand, 
 I scorn thee and thy faction, peevish boy. 
 Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Planta- 
 genet. 
 Plan. Proud Pole, I will ; and scorn both 
 
 him and thee. 
 Si/f. I'll turn my part thereof into thy 
 
 throat. 
 
 Som. Away, away, good William de la Pole ! 
 
 We grace the yeoman by conver.sing with 
 
 him. SI 
 
 War. Now, by (Jod's will, thou wrong'st 
 
 him, Somerset ; 
 
 His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence, 
 
 ' Hut anger, i.e. liut for anger. 
 
 282 
 
 Third son to the third Edwaril King of Eng- 
 land: ,S4 
 
 Spring crestless yeomen - from so deep a root ( 
 Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 
 
 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
 Som. By him that made me, I '11 maintain 
 my words 
 
 On any plot of ground in Christendom. 
 
 W;xs not thy father, Richard Earl of Cam- 
 bridge, yo 
 
 For treason executed in our late king's days? 
 
 And, by his treason, st^md'st not thou at- 
 tainted, ^ 
 
 ('orru]>ted, and exempt'^ fi'om ancient gentry? 
 
 His trespass j^et lives guilty in thy blood ; 
 
 And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman. 
 Plan. My father was attached,* not at- 
 tainted, 
 
 Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor; 
 
 And tliat I '11 prove on better men than Somer- 
 set, 
 
 Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. 
 
 For your partaker^ Pole, and you yourself, lOO 
 
 I '11 note you in my book of memory, 
 
 To scourge you for this apjirehension :" 
 
 Look to it well and say you are well warn'd. 
 So»L Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee 
 still; 
 
 And know us, by these colours, for thy foes. 
 
 For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall 
 wear. 
 J'kin. And, by my soul, this pale and angry 
 rose. 
 
 As cognizance (jf my blood-drinking hate, 
 
 Will I for ever, and my faction, wear, 
 
 Until it wither with me to my grave, no 
 
 Or flourish to the height of my degree. 
 
 Suf. Go forward, and be chokVl with thy 
 ambition I 
 
 And so, farewell, imtil I meet thee next. [Kvit. 
 
 Som. Have with thee, Pole. — Farewell, am- 
 
 ])itious Richard. [L'.cit. 
 
 Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perfitrce 
 
 endure it I 
 War. This blot, that tliey object against 
 your house, 
 
 2 Crestless yeomen, i.e. yeomen wlio have no right to a 
 coat of arms. 
 " Exempt, excluded. ■* Attached, arresteil. 
 
 5 Partaker, confederate. '"• Apprehension, i)i)ini<in. 
 
 I
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY YI.-PAET T. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 
 
 Shall be wip'd out in the next pai-Hament, 
 C'all'd for the truce of Winchester and Glos- 
 
 ter; 
 And if thou be not then created York, 
 I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 120 
 Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, 
 Against proud Somei-set and William Pole, 
 Will I upon thy party weai- this I'ose: 
 And here I prophesy, — this brawl to-day, 
 Grown to this faction in the Temple-garden, 
 Shall send, between the red rose and the 
 
 white, 
 A thou.sand souls to death and deadly night. 
 Plan. Good Ma.ster Yeriion. I am bound to 
 
 That you on my behalf Wfjuld pluck a tlower. 
 Ver. In your liehalf still will I w^ear the 
 same. i?.o 
 
 Law. And so will I. 
 Plan. Thank.s, gentle sir. 
 Come,- let us four to dinner : I dare .say 
 Tliis quarrel will drink blood another day. 
 
 [Exevnt. 
 
 Scene V. .1 room in the Tower of London. 
 
 Enter Mortimer, hrouffht in a dniir 
 hy two Gaolers. 
 
 Mor. Kind keepers (jf my weak decaying 
 
 Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. — 
 Even like a man new haled ^ from the rack, 
 So fare my limbs M'ith long imprisonment ; 
 And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,^ 
 Ne.stor-like aged,^ in^ an age of care, 
 Argue the end of Eilniund Moitimer. 
 \_ These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is 
 
 .spent, 
 Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent ;^ ] 
 Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening 
 
 grief, 10 
 
 And pithless*' arms, like to a withered vine 
 Tliat droops his sapless branches to the ground: 
 Yet are these feet — whose strengthle^ss stay is 
 
 numb. 
 
 » llaUd. (Irapged. 
 
 - Pnranivautu of death, i.e. the heralds who announce 
 the approach of death. 
 3 Xextor-like afjpA. i.e. made as old as N'estor. 
 1 /n = li.v. i Fxigont, end. " Pifhl/'.-x witliont viixcuu-. 
 
 Unable to sujjpoit this lump of clay — i-i 
 
 Swift- winged with desire to get a grave, 
 As witting'' I no other comfort have. 
 But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come ? 
 First Gaol. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, 
 will come: 
 We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; 
 And answer was return'd that he will come. l'O 
 Mor. Enough : my sold shall then be satis- 
 fied. 
 Poor gentleman I his wrong doth equal mine. 
 Since Henry Monmouth- first began to reign, 
 Before whose glory I was gi'eat in anns. 
 This loathsome sequestration'* have I had ; 
 And even since then hath Eichard bee n ob- 
 
 scur'd, 
 Depriv'd of honour and inheritance. 
 But now, the aibitrator of despairs. 
 Just death, kind umpii'e of men's miseries, 
 With sweet eidargement doth dismiss me 
 hence : -lO 
 
 I would his troubles likewise were expii-Vl, 
 That so he might recover what was lost. 
 
 Enter Richard Plantagenet. 
 
 Fir.^t Gaol. My lord, yotir loving nephew 
 
 now is come. 
 J/or. Richard Plantagenet, friend, is he 
 
 come ? 
 Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly u.s'd. 
 Your nephew, late despised'" Richard, comes. 
 J/or. Direct mine arms T may en)l trace his 
 neck. 
 And in his bo.soni spend my latter ga.sjj: 
 O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, 
 That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. — 
 An<l now declare, sweet stem from York's 
 great stock, •: 1 
 
 Why didst thou say, of late thou wert despis'd i 
 Plan. First, lean thine aged back again.st 
 mine arm ; 
 And, in that ease, 1 11 tell thee my disease." 
 Tliis day, in argument upon a case, 
 Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and 
 me; 
 
 " Witting, knowing. 
 ' Henry Monmouth, i.e. Heni-y V. 
 ' Sequestration, imprioonnient; literally, seclusion. 
 10 Late dci<})iiied, i.e. lately despised. 
 Disease, uneasiness of mind. 
 283
 
 ACT II. Scoue 5. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT II. Sceue 
 
 Among which terms he ii.s'd hi.s lavish tongue, 
 And (lid iii)braid me with my fatliefs death: 
 Whieh obloquy .set bars before my tongue, 
 Else with the like I had recjuited him. 50 
 
 Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, 
 In honour of a true Plantagenet, 
 And for alliance' sake,^ declare the cause 
 My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. 
 
 Mar. That cause, fair nephew, that im- 
 2)ri.son'd me, or. 
 
 And hath det;\in'd me all my flowering youth 
 Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine. 
 Was cursed instrument of his decease. 
 
 Plan. Discover more at large what cause 
 that was ; 
 For I am isrnorant, and caunot guess. co 
 
 Plan. Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer.— (Act ii. 5. 122.) 
 
 J/w/-. I will, if that my fading breath permit. 
 And death approach not ere my tale be done. 
 Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, 
 Depos'd his ne})hew Richard, — Edward's son, 
 Q The first- begotten and the lawful heir 
 /Of Edward king, the third of that descent: ] 
 During whose reign the Percies of the north, 
 Finding his usurpation most unjust, 
 Endeavour'd my advancement to the tin-one: 
 The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this To 
 Was, for that — young King Richard thu.s re- 
 mov'd, 
 
 ' For alliance' sake, i.e. for tlie sake of our relationship. 
 
 284 
 
 Leaving no heir ])egotten of his body — 72 
 I was the next by birth and ])arentage; 
 Q For by my mother I derived am } 
 
 From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son / 
 L^nto the third King Edward ; whereas he (' 
 From John of Ga:unt doth bring his pedigree,) 
 Being but fourth of that heroic line. ] ( 
 
 But mark : as, in this haughty^ great attempt, 
 They laboured to plant the rightful heir, so 
 
 1 lost my liberty, and they their lives. 
 Long after this, when Henry-' the Fifth, 
 Succeeding his sire Bolingbroke, did reign, 
 
 2 Haughty =high. s Henry, pronounced as a trisyllable.
 
 ACT II. Sceue 5. 
 
 KING HENEY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Thy fatlier, Earl of Caml)ri(lge, then deriv'd 
 From famous Ednuuid Laiigley, Duke of York, 
 Marrying my sister tliat thy mother was, 
 Again, in pity of my hard distress, 
 Levied an array, weening^ to redeem 
 And have install'd me in the diadem: 
 But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, 90 
 
 And was beheaded. Tims the Mortimers, 
 In whom the title rested, were suppress'd. 
 Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is 
 
 the last. 
 Mor. True ; and thou seest that I no issue 
 have, 
 And that my fainting words do warrant 
 
 death : 
 Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish thee gather: 
 But yet be wary in thy studious care. 
 
 Flan. Thy grave admonishments prevail 
 with me: 
 But yet, methinks, my father's exeovition 
 Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. 100 
 J/or. With silence, nephew, be thou politic : 
 Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster 
 And like a mountain, not to be remov'd. 
 ( Q But now thy uncle is removing hence ; 
 <' As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd 
 ' With long continuance in a settled place. ] 
 Plan. O, uncle, would some pai't of my 
 young years 
 
 Might but redeem the passage of your age I 
 Mor. Thou dost then wrong me, — as that 
 
 slaughterer doth 
 Which giveth many woinids when one will 
 
 kill. 110 
 
 Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good ; 
 Only give order for my funeral: 
 And so farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes 
 And prosperous be thy life in peace and 
 
 war ! [^Dies. 
 
 Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting 
 
 soul ! 
 In prison hast tliou spent a pilgrimage, 
 And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. — 
 Well, I wiU lock his counsel in my brea.st ; 
 And what I do imagine, let that rest. — 
 Keepers, convey him hence ; and I myself 120 
 Will see his burial better than his life. 
 
 [Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the hody 
 of Mortimer. 
 Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, 
 Chok'd with amlntion of the meaner sort: — 
 And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries. 
 Which Somerset hath oflfer'd to my house, 
 I doubt not but with honour to redress ; 
 And therefore haste I to the parliament, 
 Either to be restored to my blood, 
 Or make my ill the advantage of my good. 129 
 
 [E-vit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. London. The Parliament-house. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Glos- 
 TER, Warwick, Somerset, and Suffolk ; 
 the Bishop of Winchester, Eichard 
 Plantagenet, and others. Gloster offers 
 to put up a hill; Winchester snatches it, 
 and tears it. 
 
 Win. Com'st thou with deejj-premeditated 
 lines, 
 With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, 
 Humphrey of Gloster? If thou canst accuse. 
 Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, 
 Do it without invention, suddenly ; 
 
 1 WeciUtuj, thinking. 
 
 As I with sudden and extemporal speech 
 Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
 Glo. Presumptuous priest ! this place com- 
 mands my patience, 
 Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd 
 
 me. 
 Think not, although in writing I preferrYP 10 
 The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, 
 That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able 
 Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: 
 [^ No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wicked- 
 ness, 
 Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, ' 
 As^ very infants prattle of thy j^ride.] ^ 
 
 - P refer r'd, i.e. 
 
 'as a cliarge against thee.' 
 285 
 
 3^s = that.
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENKY VI. -PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 Tliuii art a most })eiiiici()U.s usurer; 
 Froward by nature, enemy to peace ; 
 Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems 
 A man of thy profession and degree ; 20 
 
 Anil for thy treachery, what "s more manifest, — 
 In tliat thou laid'st a trap to take my life, 
 As well at Lontlon bridge as at the Tower '. 
 •"Q Beside, I fear me, if tliy thoughts were 
 ^ sifted, 
 
 'The king, thy sovereign, is not (^uite exempt 
 ' From envious malice of thy swelling heart.] 
 Win. Gloster, I do defy thee. — Lords, vouch- 
 safe 
 To give me hearing what I .sliall reply. 
 Were I ambitious, covetous, or worse, 
 As he will have me, how am I so poor ? :!0 
 Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
 Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling^ 
 And for dissension, who preferreth peace 
 More than I do? — except I be provok'd. 
 No, my good lords, it is not thdt offends ; 
 Q It is not thilt that hath incens'd the duke : ] 
 It is, because no one should sway but he ; 
 QNo one but he should 1 e about the king;] 
 And that engenders thunder in his breast. 
 And makes him roar these accusations forth. 
 But he sliall know I am as good — 
 
 G'lo. As good 1 41 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather I — 
 
 Win. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I 
 pray. 
 But one imperious in another's throne ? 
 
 (j'lo. Am I not lord protector, saucy j)rie.st? 
 Win. And am not I a prelate of the church 1 
 Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps. 
 And useth it to patronage' his theft. 
 Win. Unreverent Gloster I 
 Glo. Thou art leverend 
 
 Touching thy sjiiritual function, not thy life. 
 /Q Win. This Rome shall remedy. 
 
 War. Roam thither, then. r,i 
 
 Som. My lord, it were your duty to fori lear. 
 War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. 
 ) Som. Methinks my lord should be religious, 
 (And know the office that belongs to such. 
 { War. Methinks his lordshiji shouM be 
 \ humbler ; 
 ^It fitteth not a prelate .so to ])lead. 
 
 1 To patronage, i.e. to maintain. 
 280 
 
 Som. Y^es, when liis holy state is touch'd so 
 
 near. 
 War. State linly or uiihallo\v\l, what of that? ; 
 Is not his grace ])rotector to the king? oo^ 
 
 Plan. [JsiVA'J Plantagenet, I .see, must hold 
 his tongue. 
 Lest it be said "»Si)eak, sinali, when you 
 
 should ; 
 Must your bokl verdict enter talk with 
 
 lords?" 
 Else would I have a fling at Winchester.] 
 
 King. L^ncles of Gloster and of Winchester, 
 The special watchmen of our English weal, 
 I would prevail, if prayers- might i)revail. 
 To join your hearts in love and amity. ^ 
 
 O, what a scandal is it to our crown. 
 That two such noble ])eers as ye shoukl jar I to 
 Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell 
 Civil dissension is a viperous worm 
 That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. 
 [J noise ivitlnn, "Down with the tawny- 
 coats ! " 
 What tumult 's this ? 
 
 War. An u])roai', I dare warrant. 
 
 Begun through malice of the l)ishop's men. 
 
 [J noixe a;iaiH^ "Stones I stones I" 
 
 Enter the Mayor of Loxdox, attended. 
 
 May. O, my good lords, — and virtuous 
 
 Henry, — 
 Pity the city of London, pity us 1 
 The bishop and the Duke of Gloster's men. 
 Forbidden late to cari-y any weajion. To 
 
 Have tiU'd their pockets full of pebble stones, 
 And banding themselves in contrary parts, 
 Do pelt so fast at one another's pate. 
 That many have their giddy brains knock'd 
 
 out: 
 Our windows are broke down in every street. 
 And we, for fear, comi)e]rd to shut our shops. 
 
 Enter, slirnnshiny, the Servimj-nien ry'GLOSTEK 
 and Winchester with blood)/ pates. 
 
 King. We charge you, on allegiance to our- 
 
 self, 
 To hold your slaughtering hands and keep 
 
 the peace. — 
 Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 
 
 - Prayeris, pronounced as a dissyllable.
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY YI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 First Si'rv. Nay, if we be f(»i'l)ickle]i stunes, 
 we '11 fall to it with our teeth. 90 
 
 Sec. Sen: Do Avhat ye dare, we are as 
 
 resolute. [S/iirmish again. 
 
 'i ■ Q Glo. You of my household, leave this 
 
 ■^ peevish* broil, 
 
 ^Aud set this unaccustomed- fight aside. 
 
 'i Third Sen: My lord, w^e know your grace 
 
 S to be a man 
 
 ^ Just and upright; and, for your royal birth, 
 
 ;To none inferior but his majesty: 
 
 )And, ere that we will sutler such a prince, 
 
 ;So kind a father of the commonweal, 
 
 /To be disgraced bv an inkhorn mate,^ 99 
 
 > . " . . . 
 
 >We, and our wives and children, all will fight, 
 
 ^And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes. 
 
 ) First Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our 
 
 ( nails 
 
 ? Shall pitch a field when we are dead. 
 
 \ [Skirmis/i again.'^ 
 
 Glo. Stay, stay I 
 
 And if you love me, as you say you do. 
 
 Let me persuade you to forbear awhile, 
 
 \U King. O, how this discord doth afflict my 
 
 soul 1 — 
 
 Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold 
 
 '"N^y sighs and tears, and will not once relent? 
 
 Who should be pitiful, if you be not? 
 
 Or who should study to prefer a peace, no 
 
 If holy churchmen take delight in broils? 
 
 War. My lord protector, yield ; — yield, 
 
 Winchester ; — - 
 
 Except you mean, with obstinate i-ejiulse. 
 
 To .slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. 
 
 Q You see what mischief, and what murder too, 
 
 < Hath been enacted thi'ough your enmity : 
 
 ' Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.] 
 
 Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield. 
 
 ;, Q Glo. Compassion on the king commands 
 
 ' me stoop ; 119 
 
 ', Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest 
 
 /Should ever get tliat jirivilege of me. 
 
 / IT a;-. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the duke 
 
 ^Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, 
 
 ' As by his .smoothed brows it doth appear : 
 
 Why look you still so' stern and tragical?] 
 
 1 Pi'cvish, foolish. 
 
 - Unaccastom'd, unseemly (Johnson), 
 means unusual, or strange. 
 ' Inkhorn mate, i.e. bouUisli fellow. 
 
 rerhaps it only 
 
 Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my 
 hand. 126 
 
 Q King. Fie, uncle Beaufort ! I have heard / 
 you preach > 
 
 That malice was a great and grievous sin ; ^ 
 And will not you maintain the thing you> 
 teach, t! 
 
 But prove a chief offender in the same? 130? 
 War. Sweet king! — the bi.shop hath a 
 kindly gird. * — 
 For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent I I \ r-^ 
 What, shall a child instruct you what to do?]'J \ ^J_^ 
 Win. Well, Duke of Glo.ster, I will yield to 
 thee; 
 Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give. 
 Glo. \^Aside^ Ay, but, I fear me, with a 
 hollow heart. — {^Holding Winchester's right 
 hand in his.^ 
 See here, my friends and loving country- 
 men ; 
 This token serveth for a flag of truce 
 Betwixt ourselves and all our followers; 
 So help me God, as I dissemble not I uo 
 
 Win. \^Aside\ So hel]) me God, as I intend 
 
 it not I 
 King. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Glos- 
 ter,5 
 How joyful am I made by this contract! — 
 Away, my masters ! trouble us no more ; 
 But join in friendship, as your lords have 
 done. 
 First Sen: Content: I '11 to the surgeon'.s. 
 Sec. Sen: And so will I. 
 Third Sen: And I will see what physic the 
 tavern affords. 
 
 [^Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, dc. 
 War. Accejjt this scroll, most gracious 
 sovereign, U9 
 
 Which in the right of Richartl Plantagenet 
 We do exhibit to your majesty. 
 
 Glo. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for, 
 .sweet prince. 
 An if your grace maik e^'ery circumsbince. 
 You have great reason to do Richard right; 
 Esjjecially for those occasions 
 At Eltham Place I tokK' your majesty. 
 
 *A l-indly gird, i.e. gentle reproof; some explain it 
 "a reproach in kind," "an appropriate rebuke." 
 * Glontvr, here a trisyllable = Glo-ces-ter. 
 6 / told, i.e. of whicli I told. 
 287
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 King. And those occasions, uncle, were of 
 force : 
 Therefore, my loving lords, ouiL^leasure is 
 Tliat Richard be restored to his l)lood. loO 
 
 War. Let Richard be restored to his blood ; 
 So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. 
 Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. 
 King. If Richard will be true, not that 
 alone. 
 But all the whole iidiei-itance I give 
 That doth l)elong unto the house of York, 
 / Q From wlience you .sj)ring by lineal de.scent. 
 / Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience 
 And faithful service till the point of death. ] 
 King. Stoop then and set your knee against 
 my foot ; 
 And, in reguerdon' of that duty done, iTo 
 
 I gird thee with the valiant sword of York : 
 liise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet, 
 And rise created ])rincely Duke of York. 
 Plan. And so thrive Richard as thy foes 
 may fall I 
 And as my duty springs, so perish they 
 That grudge- one thought against your majesty I 
 All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty 
 
 Duke of York \" 
 Som. \^Aside\ Perish, base jnince, ignol)le 
 
 Duke of York \ 
 (Ih). Now will it best avail your majesty 
 To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France : 
 The j)resence of a king engenders love isi 
 
 Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, 
 As it disanimates his enemies. 
 
 King. When (lloster says the word, King 
 Henry goes ; 
 For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
 Glo. Your .ships already are in readiness. 
 
 \Hennet. Flourish. Exeunt all hut PJxeter. 
 Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in 
 France, 
 Not seeing what is likely to ensue. 
 This late dis.sension grown betwixt the peers 
 Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love 190 
 And will at last break out into a flame: 
 / Q As f ester'd members I'ot but by degree, 
 /Till bones and fle.sh and sinews fall away. 
 So will this base and envious di.scord breed.^] 
 
 1 Regtierdon, reward. 
 
 - Grudge, maliciously cherish ; or, perhaps, niunnur. 
 
 3 Breed, increase of itself. 
 
 288 
 
 And now I fear that fatal i)rophecy 195 
 
 Which in the time of Heiuy nam'd the Fifth 
 Was in the mouth of every sucking babe, — 
 That Henry born at Monmouth should win all, 
 And Henry born at Windsor shoidd lose all: , 
 Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish 200 
 His days may finish ere that hapless time. 
 
 \_Exit. 
 
 Scene II. France. Before Rouen. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle disguised^ and Soldiers 
 dressed like countrymen, with sacks vpon 
 their backs. 
 
 Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of 
 Rouen, 
 Through which our policy nuist make a 
 
 breach : 
 Take heed, be wary how you place your words ; 
 Talk like the \ndgar sort of market men 
 That come to gather money for their corn. 
 If we have entrance,- — as I hope we shall, — 
 And that we find the slothful watch but 
 
 weak, 
 I '11 by a sign give notice to our friends, 
 That Charles the Dauphin may encounter 
 them. 
 Fii'st Sol. Our sacks shall be a mean to 
 sack the city, 10 
 
 And we be lords and rulers over Rouen ; 
 Therefore we '11 knock. [Knocks. 
 
 Watch. [Withiii] (^ui va Id? 
 Puc. Paysans, pauwes gens de France; 
 Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. 
 Watch. [Opening the gates; the market-bell 
 rings] Enter, go in ; the market-bell is 
 rung. 
 Puc. Now, Rouen,* I '11 shake thy bulwarks 
 to the ground. 
 
 [La Pucelle, and Soldiers, 
 enter the toicn. 
 
 Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, 
 ALENgoN, Reignier, and Forces. 
 
 Char. Saint Denis bless this haj)py strata- 
 gem! 
 And once again we '11 sleep secure in Rouen. 
 
 < Rouen, written in F. 1 lioan, and intended to be pro- 
 nounced as a monosyllable.
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. hioeiie 2. 
 
 Bast. Here enter'd Piicelle and her practis- 
 ants ; ^ 20 
 
 Now she is there, how will she sjiecify 
 Where is the best and safest i:)assage in ? 
 Reign. By thrusting out a torch from yon- 
 der tower; 
 )Q Which, once discern'd, shows that her mean- 
 \ ing is,— 
 
 i^No way to that,^ for weakness, which she 
 enter'il. ] 
 
 Enter LaPlx'ELLE on the battlements, tlirusting 
 out a torch burning. 
 
 Pnc. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch 
 That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen. 
 But 1 lurning fatal to the Talbotites ! 
 
 Bast. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our 
 friend ; 
 The burning torch in yonder turret stands, zo 
 Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, 
 A prophet to the fall of all our foes ! 
 
 Reign. Defer no time, delays have danger- 
 ous ends ; 
 Enter, and cry "The Dauphin I' presently, 
 And then do execution on the watch. 
 
 \^rheij enter the town. Exit La J'ucelle 
 above. Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Enter from the town Talbot and 
 English iSoldiers. 
 
 Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason 
 with thy tears, 
 If Talbot but survive thy treachery. 
 Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress. 
 Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, 
 Thaf hardly we escajj'd the pride"* of France. 40 
 [Exeunt into the town. 
 
 Alarums: cvcursions. Enter from the town, 
 Bedford, brought in sick in a chair, with 
 Talbot, Burgundy, and the English Forces. 
 Then, enter on the walls La Pucelle, 
 Charles, Bastard, ALENgoN, and Reignier. 
 
 Ptic. Good morrow, gallants I want ye corn 
 for bi-ead ? 
 Q I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast, 
 
 1 Practinants, i.e. fellow plotters. 
 * To that, i.e. compared with that. 
 3 That, i.e. so that. ■• /Vide = picked forces. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Before he '11 buy again at such a rate: n) 
 
 'T was full of darnel : — do you like the taste I 1 
 
 Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend and .shameless' 
 
 courtezan ! 1 
 
 I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own, ' 
 
 And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. / 
 
 CJiar. Your grace may starve, perhaps,' 
 
 before that time. ] ^ 
 
 Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge 
 
 this treason I 
 Puc. What will you do, good gray-beard? 
 break a lance, .jo 
 
 And run a tilt at death within a chaii- 1 
 
 Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all 
 despite, 
 Q Encompass'd with thy lustful j^ai'amours ! ] 
 Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age. 
 And twit with cowardice a man half dead ? 
 Damsel, I '11 have a bout with you again. 
 Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. 
 Puc. Are ye so hot, -sir? — yet, Pucelle, 
 hold thy peace ; 
 If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follo\\'. 
 [Tcdbot and the rest of the English wliispcr 
 together in council. 
 God speed the parliament! who shall be tho 
 speaker? co 
 
 Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the 
 
 field? 
 Puc. Belike your lordship takes us, then, for 
 fools. 
 To tiy if that our own be oui-s or no. 
 
 Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, 
 But unto thee, Alengon, and the rest ; 
 Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out ? 
 Alen. Signior, no. 
 
 Tal. Signior, hang! — base muleters uf 
 
 France ! 
 
 Like j^easant foot-boys do they keej) the walls, 
 
 And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 70 
 
 Puc. Captains, away I let 's get us from the 
 
 walls ; 
 
 For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. — ■ 
 
 God be wi' you, my lord ! we came u]) but to 
 
 tell you 
 That we are here. [Exeunt La Pucelle and the 
 others from the walls. 
 Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be 
 long, 
 Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame I — 
 289 19
 
 ACT III. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Vow, Burgiuidy, l)y honour of thy house — 
 Prick'd on by i)ublic wnjiigs sustain'd in 
 
 France — 
 Either to get the town again or tlie : 
 Aiid I, — as sure as English Henry lives, so 
 And as his father here was conqueror, — 
 ■ Q As sure as in this late betrayed town 
 'Great (-oeur-de-lion's heart was buried, — ] 
 So sure I swear to get the town or die. 
 
 Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy 
 vows. 
 
 Tal. But, ere we go, regaid this dying 
 
 prince, m 
 
 Tile valiant Duke of Bedford. — Come, my 
 
 lord. 
 We will bestow you in some better place, 
 Fitter for sickness and for crazy ' age. 
 
 Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me: 
 Here wiU I sit before the walls of Rouen, 9i 
 And will be partner of your weal or woe. 
 Bur. Coui'ageous Bedford, let us n()\\- pei- 
 suade vou. 
 
 l>ismii,v not, iirinoes, ;it this aeciileiit.— l.U't iii. :f. 1.) 
 
 Bnl. Not to be g(jne from hence; foi' once 
 I read, 'M 
 
 That stout Pendragfjn,- in his litter, sick. 
 Came to the field, and vanciuished his foes : 
 Methinks I should revive the soldier.s' hearts. 
 Because I evei- found them as myself. 
 
 Tal. Undaunted spiiit in a dying bi'east I — 
 Then he it no: — heavens keej) old Bedford 
 safe I — 100 
 
 And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, 
 
 1 Craz;/, cleciepit. 
 
 ? Pendmgon, Utlier rendiasoii, father o( King Arthur. 
 290 
 
 But gather we our forces out of hand, 102 
 
 And set u])on our boasting enemy. 
 
 [Exeunt intothc town, BurgunJi/, Talhot, and 
 Eorcei^, leaving Bedford and attendants. 
 
 Alarums: excursions. Enter Sir John 
 Fastolfe and a Captain. 
 
 C'ffjj. Whither away, Sii' John Fastolfe, in 
 
 such haste '. 
 Fast. Whither away I to save myself by 
 
 flight : 
 We are like to have the overtlirow affiiin.
 
 ACT III. Scene -2. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 Cap. What ! will you fly, and leave Lord 
 
 Talbot] 
 Fast. Ay, 
 
 All the Talliots in the woi'ld, to save my life. 
 
 [E.vit. 
 
 Cap. Cowardly knight I ill fortune follow 
 
 thee"! " [Kvit. 
 
 Retreat: excursion.^. Re-enter, frovi the town, 
 La Pucelle, ALENgox, Charles, and French 
 Soldiers; exeunt Jti/ing. 
 
 Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven 
 
 please, no 
 
 For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. 
 
 } [I What is the trust or strength of foolish man ? 
 
 ^ They that of late were daring with their scoffs 
 
 I Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. ] 
 
 [Bedford dies, and is carried in hy tv:o 
 
 in his chair. 
 
 Alarums. Re-enter Talbot, Burgundy, 
 and the rest. 
 
 Tal. Lost, and recovered in a day again I 
 This is a double honour, Burgundy: 
 Let Heaven have glory for this victory 1 
 
 Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
 Enshrines thee in his heart, and there ei'ects 
 Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments. \2.o 
 Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. Q But where is 
 Pucelle now >. 
 I think her old familiar i is asleep: 
 Now where 's the Bastard's braves, and Charles 
 \ his gleeks?- 
 
 i What, all amort ?^ Rouen hangs her head for 
 J grief 
 
 /That such a valiant company are fled.] 
 Now will we take some order* in the town, 
 Placing therein some expert oflicers; 
 And then depart to Paris to the king. 
 For there young Henry with his nobles lie. 
 Bur. What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Bur- 
 gundy. 130 
 Tal. But yet, before we go, let 's not forget 
 The noble Duke of Bedford late deceas'd, 
 But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen: 
 A braver soldier never couched lance, 
 A gentler heart did never sway in court; 
 
 1 Familiar, i.e. familiar demon. 
 
 '^ Gleelcs, scoffs. ^ All amort^quite dispirited. 
 
 * Take some order, i.e. make some necessary dispositions. 
 
 But kings and mightiest potentates mast 
 
 die, 
 For that 's the end of human misery. [Exeunt. 
 
 ScEXE III. The plains near Rouen. 
 
 Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, 
 ALENgoN, La Pucelle, and Forces. 
 
 Fuc. Dismay not,^ jjrinces, at this accident. 
 Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: 
 Q Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, ) 
 
 For things that are not to be remedi'd. ] ; 
 
 Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, 
 And like a peacock sweep along his tail; 
 We '11 pull his jjbiines and take away his 
 
 train, 
 If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd. 
 
 Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto 
 And of thy cunning'' had no diffidence:'' lo 
 One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. 
 
 Q Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, ; 
 And we will make thee famous through the; 
 world. j 
 
 Alert. We'll set thy statue in some holy/ 
 ])lace, / 
 
 And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed'^ 
 saint : / 
 
 Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good. ] '^ 
 Pur. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan 
 devise : 
 By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, 
 We will entice the Duke of Burgundy 
 To leave the Talbot and to follow us. 20 
 
 C/iar. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do 
 that, 
 France were no jjlace for Henry's warriors; 
 Q Nor should that nation boast it so with us. 
 But lie extirped* from our provinces. ) 
 
 Alen. For ever should they be exjjids'd^ from; 
 France, > 
 
 And not have title of an earldom hei'e. ] ; 
 
 Piic. Your honours shall perceive how I will 
 work 
 To bring this matter to the wished end. 28 
 [D^'wn sounds afar off. 
 Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive 
 Their powers are marching unto Paris-wai'd. 
 
 ^Dismay not, i.e. be not dismayed. 
 « Cunning, sliill. ' Diffidence, distrust. 
 
 * Extirpcd, rooted out. ' Expuls'd, expelled. 
 
 291
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 An English march. Eidt'i\ and jxiss over at a 
 distance, Talbot and his Forces. 
 
 There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, 
 And all the tn)oj).s of English after him. 32 
 
 .1 French march. Enter the Dike of Bur- 
 GUNDT and Forces. 
 
 Now in the rearward comes the duke and 
 
 his: 
 Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. 
 Summon a parley; we will talk with him. 
 
 \_Trnmpets sound a parley. 
 Cliar. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy 1 
 Bur. Who craves a parley with the Bur- 
 gundy 1 
 Puc. The princely ("hades of France, thy 
 
 countryman. 
 Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am 
 
 marching hence. 
 Char. Si)eak, Pucelle, and enchant him with 
 thy words. lO 
 
 Puc. Brave Burgundy, midoubted liope of 
 France I 
 Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to 
 thee. 
 Bur. Speak on; but be not over- tedious. 
 Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile 
 France, 
 And see the cities and the towns defac'd 
 By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! 
 ^As looks the mother on her lowly babe 
 jlWhen death doth close his tender dying 
 ', eyes, 
 
 ^See, see the pining malady of France; ] 49 
 Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, 
 Which thou thyself hast given her woful 
 
 breast. 
 O, turn thy edged sword another wa}"^; 
 Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that 
 
 help. 
 One drop of blood drawn from thy country's 
 
 bosom 
 Should grieve thee more than streams of 
 
 foreign gore : 
 Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, 
 Ajid wash away thy country's .stained spots. 
 Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her 
 words. 
 Or nature makes me suddenly relent. 
 292 
 
 Puc. Besides, all French ami France ex- 
 claims on thee, 60 
 Doubting thy l)irth and lawful progeny. 
 QWho join'st thou with, but with a lordly 
 nation, ) 
 That will not trust thee but for profit's sake ?]^ 
 When Talljot hath set footing once in France, 
 And fashion'd thee that in.strument of ill, 
 Who then but English Henry will be lord, 
 And thou be thrust out like a fugitive ? 
 Call we to mind, — and mark but this for 
 
 ]iroof, — 
 Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? 
 And was he not in England prisoner? VO 
 
 But when they heard he was thine enemy, 
 They set him free without his ransom paid. 
 In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. 
 Q See, then, thou fight'st against thy country- ) 
 men, ', 
 
 And join'.st with them will Ije thy .slaughter-^ 
 men. ] ' 
 
 Come, come, return; return, thou wandering 
 
 lord; 
 CTiarles and the rest will take thoe in their 
 arms. 
 Bur. [Jsic^e] I'm vanquished; these haughty^ 
 words of hers 78 
 
 Have batter'd me like roaring caiinon-.shot, 
 And made me almost yield upon my knees. — 
 Forgive me, country, and sweet country- 
 men I 
 And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: 
 My forces and my power of men are yours: — 
 So fai'ewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust 
 thee. 
 Puc. Done like a Frenchman, — [^1 «((/<'] turn, 
 
 and turn again ! 
 Char. Welcome, brave duke I thy friendship 
 
 m.akes us fresh. 
 Bast. And d(jth beget new courage in oiu" 
 
 breasts. 
 
 ^Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part 
 
 in thi.s. 
 
 And doth deseive a coronet of gold. ', 
 
 Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our, 
 
 powers, 90 ' 
 
 And seek how we may prejudice the foe. ] / 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 1 Haughty, Iiigh-spirited.
 
 ACT III. Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 ScEXE IV. I'arix. A ronm in the palace. 
 
 Enter KixG Hexry, Gloster, Bishop of Win- 
 chester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, War- 
 wick, Exeter, Vernon, Basset, and others. 
 To them Talbot and some of his Officers. 
 
 Tal. My graciou.s prince, — and honourable 
 peers, — 
 Hearing of your arrival in this realm, 
 I have awhile given truce unto my wars. 
 To do my duty to my sovereign: 
 In sign whereof, this arm — that hath reclaim'd 
 To your obedience fifty fortresses, 
 Twelve cities, seven walled towns of strength. 
 Beside five hundred prisonei-s of esteem — 
 Lets fall his sword before your highne.ss" feet, 
 
 [^Ivneeling. 
 And with submissive loyalty of heart lo 
 
 Ascribes the glory of his conquest got 
 First to my God, and next unto your gi-ace. 
 
 \^Kneels. 
 
 Kinj. Is this Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,^ 
 That hath so long been resident in France ? 
 
 Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. 
 
 King. Welcome, brave captain and victori- 
 ous lord 1 
 When I was young, — as yet I am not old, — 
 I do rememlier how my father said 
 A stouter champion never handled swoi'd. 
 Long since we w'ere resolved- of your truth, 20 
 Your faithful sei-vice, and your toil in war; 
 
 Yet never have you tasted our reward, 22 
 
 Or been reguerdon'tP with so much as thanks, 
 Because till now we never saw your face: 
 Therefore, stand up; and, forthese good deserts. 
 We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; 
 And in our coronation take your place. 
 \_Sennet. Flourish. ][_ Exeunt all hut Vernon 
 and Basset. ', 
 
 Xer. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, 
 Disgracing of these colours that I wear ;, 
 
 In honour of my noble Lord of York, — 30 
 Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou 
 spak'st ? 
 Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage*- 
 The envious barking of your saucy tongue S 
 Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. \ 
 
 Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. \ 
 Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as York. ' 
 Yer. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye; 
 that. \Strihes him. f 
 
 Bas. Villain, thou know'st the law of arms^ 
 is such, ^ 
 
 That whoso draws a sword, 't is present"' death ^ 
 Or else this blow should broach thy dearest^ 
 blood. 40^ 
 
 But I '11 unto his majesty, and crave \ 
 
 I may have liberty to venge this wrong; \ 
 
 When thou shalt see I '11 meet thee to thy cost. ^ 
 Ver. Well, miscreant, I '11 be there as soon ''^ 
 as you; ^ 
 
 And, after, meet you sooner than you would.]' 
 
 [^E.i-eunt. 
 
 ACT lY. 
 
 Scene I. Paris. A hall of state in tlie pcdace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, Bishop of 
 Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, 
 Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, the Governor 
 of Paris, and others. 
 
 (ilo. Lord Inshop, set the crown upon his 
 head. 
 
 1 Gloucester, so spelt in Folio in this place, to be pro- 
 nounced as a trisyllable. - Resolved, assured. 
 3 Iteguerdon'd. recompensed. 
 •» I'atrona'jc, make good. 5 rresent. immediate. 
 
 Win. God save King Henry, of that name 
 
 the sixth 1 
 Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath, 
 That you elect no other king but him ; 
 
 {Governor kneels. 
 Esteem none friends but such as are his friends. 
 And none your foes but such as shall pretend*^ 
 Malicious practices against his state: 
 This shall ye do, so help you righteous God I 
 [The Governor of Paris takes the oath of 
 allegiance; then exit \oith his train. 
 
 6 Pretend, purpose. 
 293
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 Enter Sir John Fastolfe. 
 
 Fast. ^ly gracious sovereign, as I rode from 
 Calais, 
 To haste unto your coronation, lo 
 
 A letter was delivered to my hands, 
 Writ to your grace from Philij) I)idve of Bur- 
 gundy. [^Presents a letter. 
 
 Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and 
 thee! 
 I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, 
 To tear the garter from thy craven's leg, — 
 
 [^Plucking it of. 
 Which I have done, — because unworthily 
 Thou wast installed in that high degree. — 
 Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest: 
 This dastanl, at the battle of Pata}^ 
 When but in all I was six thousand strong 20 
 And that the French were almost ten to one, — 
 Before we met, or that a stroke was given. 
 Like to a trusty squire, did run away: 
 In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; 
 Myself, and divers gentlemen beside, 
 Were there surprisM and taken prisoners. 
 Then judge, great loi'ds, if I have done ami.s.s; 
 Or whether that such cowards ought to wear 
 This ornament of knighthood, yea or no. 
 
 Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous. 
 And ill beseeming any common man, .11 
 
 Much more a knight, a cai)tain, and a leader. 
 
 Tal. When tiist this order was ordain'd, mv 
 lords, 
 Knights of the garter were of noble birth. 
 Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty^ courage. 
 Such as were grown to credit by the wars; 
 Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress. 
 But always resolute in most- extremes. 
 He, tlien, that is not furnish'd in this sort 
 Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, 40 
 Profaning this most honourable order, 
 And should — if I were worthy to be judge — 
 Be quite degraded, like a hedge-liorn swain 
 That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. 
 
 King. Stain to tiiy countrymen, thou hear'st 
 thy doom ! 
 Repacking, therefore, thou that wast a kniglit: 
 Henceforth we banish thee, on ])ain of death. 
 
 \^E.vit Fastolfe. 
 
 1 Haughty, i.e. high-minded. 
 294 
 
 2 i)/o«(= greatest. 
 
 And now, my lord ])rotector, view the letter 
 Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy. 
 (ilo. What means his grace, that he hatli 
 chiUig'd his style? .'.o 
 
 No more but, plain and bluntly, "To the king I' 
 Hath he fi^rgot he is his sovereign? 
 Or doth this churli.sh superscription 
 Pretend'' some alteration in good will? 
 AVhat's liere? — \^Reah'\ "I have, iqion cnpecial 
 
 cause, — 
 Mov'd with conipa.s.sion of my country's wreck, 
 Together with the pitiful conijilaint.s 
 Of such a.s your oppression feeds upon, — 
 For.«aken your pernicious faction 
 And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France. " 
 
 monstrous treachery ! can this be so, — f,i 
 That in alliance, amity, and oaths, 
 
 There should be found such false dissembling 
 guile? 
 
 King. What ! doth my uncle Burgundy re- 
 volt? 
 
 (jIo. He doth, my lord; and is become yur 
 foe. 
 
 King. Is that the wor.st this letter doth con- 
 tain >. 
 
 (jlo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he 
 writes. 
 
 King. Why, then. Lord Talbot there shall 
 talk with him 
 And give him chasti-sement for this abuse. — 
 My lord, how say you ? are you not content ? 
 
 Tal. Content, my liege I yes, but that I am 
 prevented,* 71 
 
 1 should have begg'd I might have been em- 
 
 ploy'd. 
 King. Then gather strength, and march unto 
 him straight: 
 Let him perceive how ill we brook his treascii. 
 And what offence it is to flout his friend.s. 
 
 l^dl. I go, my lord; in heart desiring still 
 You may Ijehold confusion of your foes. 
 
 [EcU. 
 EnterY-EU^os and Basset. 
 
 Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sove- 
 reign I 
 
 Bas. And me, my lord, gi'ant me the c(tm- 
 bat too! 
 
 York: This is my servant: hear him, nolJe 
 ])rince! so 
 
 »Pr«te»jd = indicate, denote. ■» Prevented, anticipated.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 Som. And this is mine: .sweet Henry, favour 
 him I ^1 
 
 Kiiif/. Be patient, lords; and give them leave 
 to speak. — 
 Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus ex- 
 claim ? 
 And wherefore crave you combat? or with 
 whom ? 
 Vet: With him, my lord; for he hath done 
 me wrouff. 
 
 Bas. And I with him; for he hath done me 
 wrong. so 
 
 King. What is tliat wrong \\-hereof you 
 both complain ? 
 First let me know, and then 1 11 answer 
 you. 
 Bas. Crossing the sea from England into 
 France, 
 This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, 
 Upbraided me about the rose I wear; 9i 
 
 Kin'j. Stain to tli.v countrynipii, tli.ni liuaiVt tli.v >h»<\u '. 
 lie packing, therefore, thou that ^^•a^t a l<niBlit.-(.\ft iv. 1. J5, n\.\ 
 
 Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves 02 
 Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, 
 When stubbornly he did repugn^ the tnith 
 Al)out a certain question in the law 
 Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him; 
 With other vile and ignomiiuous teiTus: 
 In confutation of which rude reproach, 
 And in defence of my lord's worthiness, 
 I crave the benefit of law of amis. loo 
 
 Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord : 
 For tliough he seem with forged quaint- con- 
 ceit 
 To set a gloss upon his bold intent. 
 Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him; 
 And he first took exceptions at this badge. 
 Pronouncing that the jmleness of this flower 
 Bewray'd^ the faintness of my niaster's heart. 
 
 liejmgn, resist, oppose. - Quaint, artful. 
 
 3 Bewraij'd, betrayed. 
 
 York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be 
 
 left? 
 Som. Your private grudge, my Lord of 
 York, will out, 
 Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. no 
 King. Good Lord, what madness rules in 
 brainsick men, 
 Wlien for so slight and frivolous a cause 
 Such factious emulations shall arise! — 
 Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
 Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. 
 York. Let this dissension first be tried by 
 fight. 
 And then your highness shall command a 
 peace. 
 Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us 
 alone; 
 Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. 
 
 York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somer- 
 set. 120 
 295
 
 ACr IV. f^ceue 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at tirst. 
 Bas. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. 
 Glo. Contirm it so ! Confounded be your 
 strife! 12;3 
 
 And ])erish ye, with your au(laciou.s prate! 
 Pre.suni])tuous vas.sals, are you not asham'd 
 With this immode.st clamorous outrage 
 To troul)le and di.starb the king and us ? — 
 And you, my lords, — methinks you do not well 
 To bear with their perverse objections; 
 Much less to take occasion from their mouths 
 To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves: i3i 
 
 Let me persuade you take a better coui'se. 
 E.ve. It grieves his highne-ss: — good my 
 
 lords, be friends. 
 Kiiiff. Come hither, you that would be com- 
 batants: 
 Henceforth I charge you, as you love our fa- 
 vour, 
 Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. — 
 And you, my lords, remember where we are; 
 In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation : 
 If they perceive dissension in our looks. 
 And that within ourselves we disagree, 140 
 How will their grudging stomachs^ be pro- 
 
 vok'd 
 To wilful disobedience, and rebel I 
 ^QBe.side, what infamy will there arise, 
 ^When foreign princes shall be certified 
 i Tliat for a toy, a thing of no regard, 
 ^King Henry's peers and chief nobility 
 ^Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of 
 
 France I ] 
 O, think upon the concpiest of my father; 
 My tender years; and let us not forego 
 Thdt for a trifle that was bought with blood ! 
 Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. i.M 
 I see no reason, if I wear this rose, 
 
 [Putting on a red_j-ose. 
 That any one should therefore be suspicious 
 I more incline to Somerset than York: 
 Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both: 
 As well they may upbraid me with my ci-own. 
 Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. 
 But your discretions better can persuade 
 Than I am able to instruct or teach: 
 And therefore, as we hither came in peace, ]00 
 So let us still continue jieace and love. — 
 
 1 Stomachs, anger, passions. 
 296 
 
 Cousin of York, we institute your grace kjj 
 To be our regent in these parts of France:— 
 And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite 
 Your troops of horsemen with his bands of 
 
 foot; — 
 And, like true subjects, sons nf your ])rogeni- 
 
 tors. 
 Go cheerfully together, and digest 
 Your angry choler on your enemies. 
 Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest 
 After some respite, will return to Calais; iro 
 From thence to England; where I hope ere 
 
 long 
 To be presented, by your victories, 
 With Charles, Alen^on, and that traitomus 
 
 rout. 
 [Flourish. Exeunt all hut Yorl; Warvki; 
 
 Exeter and Vernon. 
 Wa?'. My Lord of York, J promise you, the 
 
 king 
 Prettily, methought, did play the oiator. 
 York. And so he did ; but yet 1 like it 
 
 not, 
 In that he wears the badge of Somenset. 
 
 War. Tu.sh, that was but his fancy, blame 
 
 him not; 
 I dare presume, sweet ])rince, he thought no 
 
 harm. 
 Yorl: An if I wist lie did, — but let it rest; i>o 
 Other affi\irs must now be maiiaged. 
 
 [Exeunt [_all but Exeter. 
 Exc. Well didst thou, Richard, to supi)ress 
 
 thy voice; 
 For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, 
 I fear we should have seen decij)her'd there 
 More rancorous spite, more fuiious raging 
 
 broils. 
 Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd. 
 But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
 This jarring discord of nobility. 
 This shouldering of each other in the court. 
 This factious bandying of their favourites, IPO 
 But that it doth presage some ill event. 
 'Tis much^ when scejitres are in children's 
 
 hands; 
 But more when envy breeds unkind division; 
 There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 
 
 [Exit. ] 
 
 2 'T IK much, i.e. it is a serious matter.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Seeue 3. 
 
 Q Scene II. Before Hounh'auj-. 
 
 E:it)'r Talkut, trifh his Farces. 
 
 Tal. Go to the gates of Boui-deaux, tnuii- 
 peter; 
 .Summon their general unto the wall. 
 Trumpet sounds a parley. Eater, on the tcalls, 
 the (General of the French Forces and others. 
 
 ^English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, 
 
 'Servant in arms to Harry King of England; 
 
 ' And thus he would, — Open your city gates; 
 Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours, 
 And do him liomage as obedient subjects; 
 
 , And I '11 withdraw^ me and my bloody power: 
 But, if you frown upon this ])roffer'd j^eace, 
 You tempt the fury of my tlu'ee attendants, lo 
 
 ', Lean famine, quartering st iel, and climbingfire ; 
 
 .Who, in a moment, even with^ the earth 
 Shall lay your stately and air- braving towers, 
 
 J If you forsake the offer of our love. 
 
 ' Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owd of death, 
 ()ur nation's terror, and their bloody scourge I 
 The period of thy tyraimy approacheth. 
 On us thou canst not enter but by death : 
 For, I protest, we are well fortified. 
 And strong enough to issue out and fight: 2n 
 If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed. 
 Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee: 
 On either hand thee tliere are squadrons 
 
 pitch'd. 
 To wall thee from the liberty of flight; 
 And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, 
 
 'But death doth front thee with apparent spoil, 
 
 ''And pale destruction meets thee in the face. 
 
 ', Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament 
 
 'To rive 2 their dangerous artillery 
 
 ;;UiDon no Christian soul but English Talbot, so 
 
 ^Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant 
 
 ) man, 
 
 !!0f an invincible unconquer'd spirit! 
 
 ; This is the latest glory of thy praise 
 
 J That I, thy enemy, due^ thee withal ; 
 
 ^ For ere the glass, that now begins to riui, 
 
 \ Finish the process of his .sandy hour, 
 
 / These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, 
 
 ) Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead. 
 
 - \^Drum afar off. 
 
 1 Emn with, level with. 
 ■- Itive, discharge. 
 
 Due, i.e. endue. 
 
 Hark! hark I the Dauphin's drum, a warning 
 
 bell, / 
 
 Sings heavy nuisic to thy timorous soul ; 40 
 
 And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. ( 
 
 [Ea;eunt (Jeneral, d:c.^. 
 
 Tal. He fables not; I hear the enemy: '; 
 
 Out, some light horsemen, and peruse* their ! 
 
 wings. 
 O, negligent and heedless discipline! '; 
 
 How are we park'd and bounded in a pale, — ' 
 A little herd of England's timorous deer, 
 Maz'd'^ with a yelping kennel of French curs I 
 If we be English deer, be then in blood;" ^ 
 Not rascal-like," to fall down with a pinch, ;■ 
 But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, r,(\ 
 Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of 
 
 steel, 
 And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: 
 Sell every man his life as dear as mine, / 
 
 And they shall find dear deer of us, my 
 
 friends. — ^ 
 
 God and St. George, Talbot and England's 
 
 right, 
 Pro.sper our colouis in this dangerous fight! 
 
 Exeunt. ] 
 
 Scene III. Plains in Ga.'tcony. 
 
 Enter York, vith Forces; to him a Messenycr. 
 
 York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd 
 
 again, 
 That dogg'd the mighty army of the Daujihin >. 
 Mess. They are return'd, my lord, and give 
 
 it out 
 That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his 
 
 power, 
 To fight with Talbot: as he march'd along. 
 By your espials were discovered 
 Two mightier troops than that the Daujjhin 
 
 led, 
 "Which join'd with him, and made their march 
 
 for Bourdeaux. 
 York. A plague upon that villain Somerset, 
 That thus delays my ])romised sup])ly lo 
 
 Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege ! 
 Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid; 
 
 ■» Peruse, examine. •' Maz'd, bewildered. 
 
 " In blood, i.e. in condition; a technical term in sport- 
 ing. 
 ' Rascal-like, i.e. like a lean deer, one out of condition. 
 
 297
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene X 
 
 And I am louted^ by a traitor villain 13 
 
 And cannot help the noble chevalier: 
 
 God comfort him in this necessity! 
 
 If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. 
 
 Unter Sir Willi^ui Lucy. 
 
 Liicf/. Thou princely leader of our Englisli 
 strength, 
 
 Never so needful on the earth of France, 
 Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, 
 Who now is girdled with a waist of ii-on -.'o 
 And hemm'd about Avith grim destruction: 
 To Bourdcaux, warlike duke I to Bourdeaux, 
 
 York ! 
 Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's 
 
 lionoui'. 
 
 ^4 
 
 
 Tal. young John Talbot ! I did send for thee 
 To tutor thee in stratagems of war.— (Act iv. 5. l, 2.) 
 
 Yorl: O God, that Somerset — who in jiruud 
 heart 24 
 
 Doth stoj) my cornets ^ — were in Talbot's place 1 
 So should we save a valiant gentleman 
 By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. 
 /QMad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep, 
 . That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.] 
 Lurjf. O, send some succour to the distress'd 
 lord ! 30 
 
 York. He dies, we lose; I break my warlike 
 word; 
 
 1 Louted, treated like a lout, made a fool of. 
 - Cornets, troops of cavalry. 
 298 
 
 We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they ilaily 
 get; 32 
 
 All 'long of ^ this vile traitor Somerset. 
 
 Luc)/. Then God take mercy on brave Tal- 
 bot's soul; 
 
 And on his son young John, who two hours 
 since 
 
 I met in travel toward his warlike father! 
 
 This seven years did not Talltot see his son; 
 
 And now they meet where both their lives are 
 done. 
 
 * 'Long of, because of.
 
 ACT IV. Scene 4. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 York. Alas, wliat joy shall noble Talbot 
 have 
 To bid his young son welcome to his grave? 40 
 Away! vexation almost stojjs my breath, 
 That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of 
 
 death. — 
 Lucy, farewell : no more my fortune can, 
 But curse the cause ^ I cannot aid the man. — 
 ] ^ Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won 
 ; away, 
 
 Long all of^ Somerset and his delay. ] 
 
 [^Exit with his soldiers. 
 Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition 
 Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders. 
 Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
 The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, 50 
 That ever-living man of memory, 
 Henry the Fifth: — whiles they each other 
 
 cross. 
 Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. 
 
 {J'lrit. 
 
 Scene IV. Other plains in Gascony. 
 
 Eater Somerset, icith his Forces; a Captain of 
 Talbot's icith him. 
 
 Horn. It is too late; I cannot send them now: 
 This expedition was by York and Talbot 
 Too rashly plotted: all our general force 
 Might with a sally of the very town 
 Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot 
 Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour 
 By this unheedful, des])erate, wild adventure: 
 York set him on to fight and die in shame. 
 That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the 
 name. 
 
 Cap. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with 
 me 10 
 
 Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth fo)" aid. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Som. How now. Sir William! whither were 
 
 you sent? 
 Lucij. Whither, my lord? — from Ijought and 
 sold Lord Talbot; 
 Who, ring'd about with bold adversity. 
 Cries out for noble York and Somerset, 
 
 1 The cause, him who is the cause tliat. 
 
 2 Long all of, all because of. 
 
 To beat assailing death from his weak legions: 
 And whiles the honourable captain there 
 Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied 
 
 limbs, 
 QAnd, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,^ 
 You, his false hopes, the trust of England's 
 honour, 20 
 
 Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.'' 
 Let not your private discord keep away 
 The levied succours that should lend him aid, 
 While he, renowned noble gentleman, 
 Yields up his life unto a world of odds: 
 Q Orleans the Ba.stard, Charles, and Burgundy, ji 
 Alengon, Reignier, compass him about, •'. 
 
 And Talbot perisheth by your default. ] ' 
 
 Sam. York set him on; York should have 
 
 sent him aid. 
 Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace 
 exclaims; .so 
 
 Swearing that you withhold his levied horse. 
 Collected for this expedition. 
 
 tSom. York lies; he might have sent and had 
 the horse; 
 I owe him little duty, and less love; 
 And take foul scorn to fawn on him by send- 
 ing. 
 Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force 
 of France, 
 Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: 
 Never to England shall he bear his life; 
 But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. 
 >Som. Come, go; I will dispatch the horse- 
 men straight: 40 
 Within six hours they will be at his aid. 
 Lucy. Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en or 
 slain ; 
 For fly he could not, if he would have fled ; 
 And fly would Talljot never, though he might. 
 >%m. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then 
 
 adieu ! 
 Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his 
 shame in you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene V. The English camp near Bourdeaux. 
 Enter Talbot and John hu son. 
 
 Tal. O young John Talbot ! I did send for 
 thee 
 
 3 Worthless emulation, i.e. unworthy rivalry. 
 299
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY VI. -PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene C. 
 
 To tutoi- thee in stratagems of war, 2 
 
 That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd 
 When sapless age and weak unable limbs 
 Should bring thy father to his drooping chair, 
 But, O malignant and ill-boding stars I — 
 Now thou art come unto a feast of death, 
 A terril)le and unavoided' danger: 
 Therefore, dear boy, UKnuit on my swiftest 
 
 horse ; 
 And I '11 direct thee how thou shalt escape 10 
 By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone. 
 John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your 
 son? 
 And shall I fly ? O, if you love my mother, 
 Dishonour not her honourable name. 
 To make a bastard and a slave of me I 
 The world will say, he is not Tall)ot's blood. 
 That basely fled when noble Talbot stood. 
 Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 
 John. He that flies so will ne'er return 
 
 again. 
 TaX. If we both stay, we both are siu'e 
 to die. 20 
 
 John. Then let me stay ; and, father, do vou 
 fly: 
 Your loss is great, so your i-egard- should be; 
 My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. 
 Upon my death the French can little boast ; 
 In yours they will, in you all hopes are lo.st. 
 Flight cannot stain the honour you have 
 
 won ; 
 But mine it will, that no exploit have done: 
 ^Q You fled for vantage, every one will swear; 
 sBut, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear, 
 s There is no hope that ever I will stay, 30 
 
 /If the first hour I shrink and run away.] 
 Here on my knee I beg mortality. 
 Rather than life pi'eserv'd with infamy. 
 
 Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one 
 
 tomb? 
 John. Ay,rather than I '11 shame my niothei-'s 
 
 womb. 
 Tal. Upon my l)lessing, I command thee go. 
 John. To fight I will, but not to fly the 
 
 foe. 
 Tal. Part of thy father may be .sav'd in 
 thee. 
 
 I CTnavoideds unavoidable. 
 
 ■ Your regard, i.e. your care for your own safety. 
 300 
 
 John. No jiart of him but will be slianid in 
 
 me. 
 Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor can.st 
 not lose it. 40 
 
 John. Yes,your I'enowned name: .shall flight 
 
 abuse it? 
 Tal. Thy father's charge .shall clear thee 
 
 from that stain. 
 John. You cannot witness for me, being 
 slain. 
 If death be so apparent, •* then both fly. 
 
 Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight 
 and die? 
 My age was never tainted with such shame. 
 John. And shall my youth l)e guilty of such 
 blame ? 
 No more can I be severed from your side, 
 Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: 
 Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; .io 
 For live I will not, if my father die. 
 
 Tal. Then here I take my leave of tliee, 
 fair son, 
 Born to eclipse thy life this aftemioon. 
 Come, side by side together live and die; 
 And soul with soul fi-om France to heaven fly. 
 
 [Exei(nt. 
 
 ScEXE VI. A field of battle. 
 
 Alarum: e.vcm-sions, icherein Talbot s Son u 
 hemmed abotct, and Talbot rescues him. 
 
 Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, sol- 
 diers, fight : 
 The regent hath with Talbot broke his word. 
 And left us to the rage of France his sword. 
 Where is John Tall)ot? — Pause, and take thy 
 
 breath ; 
 I gave thee life and rescuetl thee from death. 
 John. O, twice my father, twice am I thy 
 son I 
 The life thou gav'st me first was lost and 
 
 done, 
 Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate. 
 To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date. 
 Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy 
 sword struck tire, 10 
 
 It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desii'e 
 Of bold-fac'd victory. Q Then leaden age, 
 
 s Apparent, manifest.
 
 ACT lY. Scene 6 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 Quickened with youthful spleen' and warlike 
 
 rage, 13 
 
 Beat down Alen9on, Orleans, Burgundy, 
 And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. 
 • The ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood 
 From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood 
 Of thy first fight — I soon encounter'd. 
 And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed 
 Some of his Imstard blood ; and in disgrace 20 
 Bespoke him thus, — "Contaminated, base, 
 '; And misbegotten blood I spill of thine. 
 Mean and right poor, for that ])ure blood of 
 
 mine 
 Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave 
 
 boy:-' 
 ; Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, 
 (Came in .strong re.scue.] Speak, thy father's 
 
 care, — 
 Art thou not weary, John ] how dost thou fare ? 
 Wilt thou yet leave the liattle, boy, and fly, 
 Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry I 
 Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead : .30 
 The help of one stands me in little stead. 
 Q O, too much folly is it, well I wot, - 
 To hazard all our lives in one small boat I 
 If I to-day die not with Fienchmen's rage, 
 To-morrow I shall die with mickle^ ^ige:] 
 By me they nothing gain an if I stay ; 
 'Tis but the shortening of my life one day: 
 In thee thy mother dies, our hou.sehold's name, 
 My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's 
 
 fame : 
 All these and more we hazard by thy stay ; 40 
 AU these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away. 
 John. The .sw^ord of Orleans hath not made 
 
 me smart ; 
 These words of yours draw life-blood from my 
 
 heart : 
 On that advantage, bought with such a 
 
 shame, — 
 To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame, — 
 Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly. 
 The coward horse that bears me fall and die ! 
 <t And like* me to the peasant boys of France, 
 (To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance ! 
 / Surely, by all the glory you have won, so 
 
 } An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son : 
 
 1 Spleen, ardour. 
 3 Mickle, much. 
 
 2 Wot, know. 
 * Like, liken. 
 
 Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot ;^ ^ 
 If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.] 53 < 
 
 Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate su-e of 
 Crete, ^ 
 Thou Icarus ; thy life to me is sweet : 
 If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side ; 
 And, commendable prov'd, let 's die in pride. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene VII. Another part of the field. 
 
 Alarum: excursions. Enter Talbot wounded, 
 supported by a Servant. 
 
 Tal. Where is my other life ? — mine own is 
 
 gone ;— 
 O, Where's young Talbot? where is valiant 
 
 John?— 
 Triumphant death, smear'd" with captivity, 
 Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at 
 
 thee : 
 When he perceiv'd me shrink and ou my knee, 
 His bloody sword he brandishd over me, 
 And, like a hungry lion, did commence 
 Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience; 
 QBut when my angry guardant^ stood alone, ^ 
 Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none, ] 10:! 
 Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart 
 Suddenly made him from my side to start 
 Into the clust'ring battle of the French ; 
 And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
 His over-mounting spirit; and there di'd, 
 My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
 
 Serv. O my dear lord, lo, where your son io 
 
 borne! 
 
 Enter Soldiers, with the hody of young Talbot. 
 
 Tal. ^Thou antic death, which laugh'st us> 
 here to scorn, ) 
 
 Anon, from thy insultmg tyranny, / 
 
 Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, 20/ 
 
 Two Talbots, winged through the lither'' sky, > 
 In thy de.s])ite shall 'scape mortality. — ] /_ 
 
 O thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd 
 
 death. 
 Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath ! 
 
 6 No boot, no use. 
 
 6 Sire of Crete, i.e. D.-edalus. father of Icarus. 
 ^ Smear'd, stained, dishonoured. 
 8 Guardant, defender. ^ hither, yielding 
 
 301
 
 ACT IV. Scene 7. 
 
 KING HENKY VI.— PART I^ 
 
 ACT IV Sceue 7. 
 
 Brave deatli by speaking, whether he Mill 
 or no ; -'' 
 
 Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.^ 
 Poor boy 1 he smiles, methinks, as who would 
 
 say, 
 Had deifth been French, then death had died 
 
 to-day. — 
 Come, come and lay him in his father's arms : 
 My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 30 
 Soldiers, adieu 1 I liave what I would have. 
 
 Now my old arms are young John Talbot's 
 grave. [/)ies. 
 
 [Alai'ums. Kveunt Soldiers and iiervant, 
 hearing the two bodies. 
 
 Elder Charles, ALENgoN, Burgundy, Bah- 
 TARD, La Pucelle, and Forces. 
 
 Char. Had York and Somerset brought 
 rescue in. 
 We should have found a bloody day of this. 
 
 7*0?. Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.— (Act iv 7. 32.J 
 
 Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, 
 
 raging- wood, ^ 35 
 
 Did flesh his i)uny sword in Frenchmen's 
 
 blood : 
 Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said: 
 "Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a 
 
 maid: " 
 But, with a proud majestical high scorn, 
 He answer'd thus : " Young Talbot was not 
 
 born 40 
 
 To be the j)illage of a giglot^ wench : " 
 So, rushing in the bowels of the French, 
 He left me ])roudly, ;is unworthy fight. 
 
 Bur. Doubtless he would have made a noble 
 
 knisjht : 
 
 1 Raijing-tvood, i.e. raging mad. 
 302 
 
 - Gi'jlot, wanton. 
 
 See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms 4.j 
 Of the most bloody nurser of his harms I 
 Bast. Hew them to jneces, hack their bones 
 asunder, 
 Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's 
 wonder. 
 (7tar. O, no, forbear I for that which we 
 have fled 
 During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 50 
 
 [^Enter Sir William Lucy, attended: a French? 
 Hera Id preceding. 1 
 
 Lunj. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's/ 
 
 tent, I 
 
 Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day. / 
 
 Char. On what submissive message art thou ' 
 
 sent? '
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1. 
 
 Lucy. Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere 
 
 French word ; 54 
 
 We English warriors wot^ not what it means. 
 I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en, 
 And to survey the bodies of the dead. 
 
 Char. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell f)ur 
 
 prison is. 
 But tell me whom thou seek'st. 
 
 LtLcy. Where is the great Alcides^ of the 
 
 field, 00 
 
 Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbmy, 
 Created, for his rare success in arms, 
 Great Earl of Washford, '^ Waterford, and 
 
 Valence ; 
 Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, 
 Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Veidun of 
 
 Alton, 
 Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of 
 
 Sheffield, 
 The thrice-victoiious Lord of Falconbridge ; 
 Knight of the noble order of Saint George, 
 Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece ; 
 Great marshal to our King Henry the Sixth 70 
 Of all his wars within the realm of France \ 
 Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed I 
 The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath. 
 Writes not so tedious a style as this. — 
 Him that thou magnifi'st with all these titles. 
 Stinking and fly-blown, lies here at our feet. 
 
 Lufi/. Is Talbot slain, — the Fi-enchmen's ■, 
 
 only scourge, ? 
 
 Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? { 
 O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd, 
 That I in rage might shoot them at your' 
 
 faces I 80 { 
 
 O, that I could but call these dead to life 1 ^ 
 It were enough to fright the realm of France:^ 
 Were but his picture left amongst you here, ^ 
 It would amaze* the jJi'oudest of you all. ] 
 
 Give me their bodies, that I may bear themi! 
 
 hence, '/ 
 
 And give them burial as beseems their woi-th. / 
 Puc. I think this ujjstart is old Talbot's 
 
 ghost, ^ 
 
 He sjoeaks with such a proud commanding 
 
 spirit. I 
 
 For God's sake, let him have 'em; to keep-' 
 
 them here, / 
 
 They would but stink, and putrefy the air. 90 ' 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. < 
 
 Lucy. I '11 bear them hence ; < 
 
 But from their mighty ashes shall be rear'd ( 
 
 A phcenix that shall make all France afeard. < 
 
 Char. So we be rid of them, do what thou^ 
 
 wilt. < 
 
 And now to Paris, in this conquering vein: s 
 All will be ours, now bloody Talbot 's slain. > 
 
 [^Exeunt."^ 
 
 ACT Y. 
 
 Scene I. Londun. A room in tlw palace. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gloster, aiid Exeter. 
 
 I{ing. Have you jierus'd the letters from 
 the pope. 
 The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac ? 
 Glo. I have, my lord : and their intent is 
 this, — 
 They humbly sue unto your excellence 
 To have a godly peace concluded of 
 Between the realms of England and of 
 France. 
 
 1 Wot. know. 2 Alcides, Le. Hercules. 
 
 3 Waxhford, the old name of Wexford, iu Ireland, 
 ■* Amaze, fill with consternation. 
 
 King. How doth youi- gTace affect'' their 
 
 motion t 
 Glo. Well, my good lord ; and as the only 
 means 
 To stoj) effusion of oui- Clu'istian blood. 
 And stablish quietness on every side. 10 
 
 King. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always 
 thought 
 It was both impious and unnatural 
 That such immanity" and bloody strife 
 Should reign among professors of one faith. 
 (flo. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect 
 And surer bind this knot of amity. 
 The Earl of Ainiagnac — near kin to Chaiies, 
 
 ■ Affect, like. 
 
 Immanity, ferocity (Latin imvianitas). 
 303
 
 ACT V. Sceue 1. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. ^fcuue 3. 
 
 \ 
 
 A man of great aiitliority in France — 
 
 Proffers his only daughter to your grace 
 
 In marriage, with a large and sumptuous 
 
 dowry. -0 
 
 Kiiuj. Mariiage I alas, uncle, my years are 
 
 young : 
 And fitter is my .study and my books 
 Than wanton dalliance with a lyaramour. 
 Yet, call the aml)as.s;idors; and, as you pleiuse. 
 So let them have their answers every one : 
 I shall be well content with any choice 
 Tends to God's glory and my country's weal. 
 
 Enter Winchestek in Cardinals habit, x 
 Legate and two Amhasi^udors. 
 
 IRre. [Aside] What! is my Lord of Win- 
 ' Chester install'd. 
 
 And call'd unto a cardinals degree ? 
 Then I perceive that will be verified 
 Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy, — ;u 
 " If once he come to be a cardinal, 
 He '11 make his cap co-equal with the crown." ] 
 King. My lords ami )as.sadois, your several suits 
 Have been consider'd anil deljated on. 
 Your purpose is both good and reasonable ; 
 And therefore are we certainly resolvd 
 To draw conditions of a friendly jjeace ; 
 Wliich by my Lord of Winchester we mean 
 Shall be tiansported presently to France. 40 
 Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your 
 master, 
 I have inform'd his highne.ss so at large, 
 As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, 
 Her beauty, and the value of her dower. 
 He doth intend .she shaU be England's queen. 
 King. In argument and jjroof of which 
 contiact. 
 Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.^ 
 And so, my lord pi'otector, see them guaided 
 And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, 
 Commit them to the fortune of the sea. so 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Winchester and Legate. 
 Q Win. Stay, my lord legate: you shall first 
 receive 
 The sum of money which 1 jiromised 
 Should be delivered to his holiness 
 For clothing me in these grave ornaments. 
 Leg. I will attend upon your lord.ship's leisure. 
 Win. [AsuL'] Now Winchester will not sub- 
 mit, I trow, 
 
 304 
 
 Or be inferior to the i)roudest peer. 
 Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive 
 That, neither in birth, f)r for authority, 
 Tlie bishop will be overborne by thee: i:o. 
 
 I '11 either n)ake thee stoop and bend thy knee, 
 Or sack this country witli a mutiny. [I^.ve^ntt.'^ 
 
 ScEXK II. Froice. Plains in Anjou. 
 
 Enter Charles, BuR«vNDy, ALExgoN, Bas- 
 tard, Reioxier, La Picelle, and Forces 
 inarching. 
 
 Char. These new.s, niy lords, may cheer our 
 droojjing spirits: 
 'T is said the stout Parisians do revolt 
 And turn again unto the warlike French. 
 Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of 
 France, 
 And keep not back your ])owers in dalliar.ce. 
 Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn 
 to us; 
 Else, ruin combat with their ]»alaces! 
 
 Enter a J/esse/tger. 
 
 J/e.s.s'. Success unto our valiant general. 
 And hai)i)iness to his accom})lices! 
 
 Char. What tidings send our .scouts? I 
 prithee, speak. lO 
 
 Mess. The English army, that divided was 
 Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one. 
 And means to give you battle presently. 
 Char. Somewhat tof> sudden, sir.% the warn- 
 ing is; 
 But we will presently provide for them. 
 
 Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there: 
 Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 
 P)u\ Of all base passions, fear is most ac- 
 curs'd : — 
 Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be 
 
 thine; 
 Let Henry fret, and all the world rejjine. 20 
 Char. Then on, my lords; and France be 
 fortunate! [Exennt. 
 
 ScEN'E III. Before Anglers. 
 Alarum. E.vcursions. Enter La Pucelle. 
 
 Pu€. The regent conquers, and the French- 
 men flv.
 
 ACT V. Sceue 3. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 , QNow help, ye charming sjDells anil periapts;^ 
 /And ye choice spii'its tliat admonish me 3 
 
 ', And give me signs of future accidents. — 
 ', You speedy helpers, that are substitutes 
 ' Under the lordly monai'ch of the north, 
 ^Appear and aid me in this enterprise! 
 
 [TJiundcr. 
 
 ^ Eater Fiends. 
 
 < This speed and quick appearance argues proof 
 ( Of your accustom'd diligence to me. 
 
 <Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cuU'd lo 
 
 ' Out of the powerful legions under earth, 
 
 < Help me this once, that France may get the 
 ^ field. 
 
 ', \_Tltei/ walk about, and sjjcak not. 
 
 ^'O, hold me not with silence over-long! 
 
 J Where ^ I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
 
 ; I '11 \o\} a member otf, and give it you, 
 
 J In earnest of a further benefit, 
 
 ; So you do condescend to help me now. 
 
 '( [.Theij hang their heads. 
 
 \ No hope to have redress ? — My body shall 
 
 \ Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 
 
 '( \They shake their heads. 
 
 , Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, 20 
 
 Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ? 
 Then take my soul, — my body, soul, and all, 
 Before that England give the French the foil. 
 
 [The>/ depart. 
 
 ^See, they forsake me !] Now the time is come. 
 That France must vaiP her lofty-plumed crest. 
 And let her head fall into England's lap. 
 
 ! [[ My ancient incantations are too weak, 
 
 :^And hell too strong for me to buckle with:'*] 
 Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. 
 
 [E.cit. 
 
 Excursions. Re-enter La Pucelle fighting 
 hand to hand uith York: La Pucelle is 
 taken. The French fy. 
 
 York. Damsel of France, I think I have you 
 fast: 30 
 
 '[Unchain your sitirits now with spelling 
 [ charms, 
 
 /And try if they can gain your liberty. — ] 
 A goodly prize, fit for the devil's gi-ace! 
 
 > Periapts, amulets. = Wliere, whereas. 
 
 3 Vail, lower. 4 Buckle with, couteiul with, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows. 
 As if, with Ciix'e, she would change my shape! 
 Puc. Chang'd to a wor.ser shape thou canst 
 not be. .jij 
 
 York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper' 
 man ; 
 No shape but his can j^lease your dainty eye. 
 Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charle!3 
 and thee! 
 And may ye both be suddenly surprised 40 
 By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds 1 
 York. Fell banning'^ hag, enchantress, hold 
 
 thy tongue I 
 Puc. I pi-ithee, give me leave to curse awhile. 
 York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest 
 to the stake. [E.veu}if. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in 
 Margaret. 
 
 Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my pri- 
 soner. [Gazes on her. 
 
 fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! 
 
 For I will touch thee but with reverent hand.«. 
 And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
 
 1 kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand] for eter- 
 
 nal peace. 
 Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. i>o 
 Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a 
 king, 
 The King of Naples, — whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 >Svf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. 
 Be not offended, nature's miracle, 
 Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: 
 Q So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, ' 
 Keeping them prisoners underneath her^ 
 wings. ] ' 
 
 Yet, if this servile usage once ofi"end, 
 Go and be free again as Suft'olk's friend. 
 
 [She turns away as if going. 
 O, stay! [Aside] I have no power to let her 
 pass; CO 
 
 My hand would free her, but my heart says no. 
 [ As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, } 
 Twinkling another counterfeited beam, > 
 
 So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eye.s. ]/ 
 Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: 
 I'll call for jien and ink, and write my mind. 
 
 * Proper, good-looking. 
 
 305 
 
 ^ Banning, cursiiin 
 20
 
 ACT V. Scene ^. 
 
 KING HENEY YI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 QFie, de la Pole! disable^ not thyself; 
 Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy pri- 
 soner Q 
 Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? 
 Ay, beauty's |)rincely majesty is such, 70 
 
 Confounds thu tongue, and makes the senses 
 rough. 
 Mar. Say, Earl of Suflblk — if thy name be 
 so — 
 What ransom must I pay before I jiass? 
 For I perceive I am thy prisoner. 
 
 Suf. [Aside] How canst thou tell she will 
 deny thy suit. 
 Before thou make a trial of her love? 
 
 Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom 
 
 must I pay? 
 Suf. She 's beautiful, and therefore to be 
 woo'd ; 
 She is a woman, therefore to be won. 
 
 Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom ? yea, or no. 
 { ^Sitf. \_AsiAie\ Fond man, remember that 
 \ thou hast a wife; so 
 
 \ Then how can Margaret be thy paramour ? 
 [ Mar. I were best- to leave him, for he will 
 ^ not hear. 
 
 \ Suf. {Asid(f\ There all is marr'd; there lies 
 \ a cooling card. 
 
 } Mar. He talks at random; sure, the man is 
 ^ mad. 
 
 / Suf \^Aside\ And yet a dispensation may be 
 ] had. 
 
 '/ Mar. Anil yet I would that you would an- 
 ( swer me. ] 
 
 Suf \_Asidc\ I'll win this Lady Margaret. 
 For whom? 
 Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden 
 thing !^ 
 2Iar. He talks of wood : it is some car- 
 penter. 90 
 Suf \^xiside\ Yet so my fancy* may be satis- 
 fied, 
 And peace established between these realms. 
 But there remains a scruple in that too; 
 For though her father be the King of Naples, 
 Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, 
 And our nobility will scorn the matchi 
 
 1 Disable, disparage. 
 
 " I were best, i.e. it would be best foi' ine. 
 3 A wooden thiiiij, i.e. a stupid tiling, a mere block of 
 wood. ■* Fancy, love. 
 
 306 
 
 Mar. Hear ye, cai)t;iin, — are you not at 
 
 leisure ? 
 Suf [Aside] It shall be so, disdain they 
 ne'er so much: 
 Henry is youthful, and will (juickly yield. — 
 Madam, I have a secret to reveal. 100 
 
 Mar. [Aside] What though I be enthrall'd ? 
 he seems a knight, 
 And will not any way dishonour me. 
 
 Svf Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I .say. 
 Mar. [Aside] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by 
 the French; 
 And then I need not ci'ave his courtesy. 
 Sitf Sweet madam, give me hearing in a 
 
 cause — 
 JIar. [Aside] Tush, women have been cajj- 
 
 tivate^ ere now. 
 Suf. I i^rithee, lady, wheref(jre talk you so ? 
 Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for 
 
 Quo. 
 Siif Say, gentle princess, would yuu not 
 suppose 11 u 
 
 Your bondage hapj^y, to be made a (pieen '. 
 Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more 
 vile 
 Than is a slave in base servility; 
 For j)rinces should be free. 
 
 Suf And so shall you, 
 
 If happy England's royal king be free. 
 
 Mar. Why, what concerns his fieedom unto 
 
 me? 
 Suf. I '11 undertake to make thee Henry's 
 queen ; 
 To put a golden sceptre in thy hand, 
 And .set a precious crown upon thy head, 110 
 If thou wilt condescend to — 
 
 Mar. What? 
 
 Suf His love. 
 
 Mar. 1 am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
 Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
 To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, 
 And have no portion in the choice myself. 
 How say you, madam, — are ye so content? 
 Mar. An if my father i)lease, I am content. 
 Suf Then call our captains and our colours 
 forth — [Troops come forward. 
 
 And, madam, at your father's castle walls 
 We '11 crave a parley, to confer with him. 130 
 
 Captivate, iiuulc captive.

 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 KING HENRY YI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 A parley sounded. Enter Reignier on the 
 trails. 
 
 See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner ! 131 
 
 Beicf. To whom 1 
 
 Siif. To me. 
 
 Iteig. Suffolk, what remedy? 
 
 I am a soldier, and unapt to weep 
 Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. 
 
 Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: 
 Consent, and for thy honour give consent, 
 Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; 
 Whom I with pain have woo'd and won 
 
 thereto; 
 And this her easy-held imprisonment 139 
 
 Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. 
 
 Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks? 
 
 Saf. Fair Mai'garet knows 
 
 That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,* or feign. 
 
 Keig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend 
 To give thee answer of thy just demand. 
 
 [Exit from the walls. 
 
 Sitf. And here, my lord, I will exj^ect thy 
 coming. 
 
 Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier helou: 
 
 Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our terri- 
 tories : 
 Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. 
 Suf. Thanks, Reignier, hajipy for so sweet 
 a child, 
 Fit to be made companion with a king: 
 What answer makes your gi'ace unto my 
 suit? 150 
 
 Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her, little 
 worth 
 To be the princely bride of such a lord, — 
 Upon condition I may quietly 
 Enjoy mine own, the counties Maine and 
 
 Anjou, 
 Free from oppression or the stroke of war. 
 My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. 
 Suf. That is her ransom, — I deliver her; 
 And those two counties I will undertake 
 Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 
 
 Reig. And I again, in Henry's royal name. 
 As deputy unto that gracious king, loi 
 
 Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. 
 
 1 Face = put on a false face. 
 
 Suf Reignier of France, I give thee kingly 
 thanks, kw 
 
 Because this is in traffic of a king. — 
 [.Isi'c^c] And yet, methinks, I could be well 
 
 content 
 To be mine own attorney in this case. 
 I '11 over, then, to England with this news, 
 And make this marriage to be solenuiiz'd. 
 [[So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe: 
 In golden palaces, as it becomes. ivo- 
 
 Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would em-- 
 brace 
 The Christian prince, King Henry, were he 
 here. ] 
 Mar. Farewell, my lord : good wishes, praise, 
 and prayers 
 Shall Sufiblk ever have of Margaret. [Going. 
 Suf Farewell, sweet madam : but hark you, 
 Margaret, — 
 No jjrincely commendations to my king? 
 2far. Such commendations as becomes a 
 maid, 
 A virgin and his servant, say to him. 
 
 Suf Woi-ds sweetly plac'd and motlestly 
 directed. 
 But, madam, I must trouble you again; iso 
 No loving token to his majesty? 
 
 J/ar. Yes, my good lord, — a pure unspotted 
 heart. 
 Never yet taint- with love, I send the king. 
 Stif And this withal. [Kis.ies her. 
 
 Mar. That for thyself: I will not so \)ve- 
 sume 
 To send such peevish^ tokens to a king. 
 
 [Exeunt Reignier and Margaret. 
 Suf. O, wert thou for myself I — But, Suf- 
 folk, stay; 
 QThou mayst not wander in that labyrinth; 
 There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. '^ 
 
 Solicit* Henry with her wondrous praise:] 190^ 
 Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,^ 
 And natural graces that extinguish art; 
 Rejjeat their semblance often on the seas. 
 That, when thou coni'st to kneel at Henry's 
 
 feet. 
 Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with won- 
 der. [Exit. 
 
 2 Tai7it, tainted. ^ Peevish, silly, trifling. 
 
 * Solicit, move, excite. 5 Surmount, are surpassing. 
 307
 
 ACT 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. hceue 4. 
 
 Scene IV. Camp of the Duke of York 
 ill Anjoii. 
 
 Enter York, Warwick, and others. 
 
 ', 1^ YorL Bring forth that sorceress coii- 
 i demn'd to burn. 
 
 '/Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shepherd. 
 
 \ Shep. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart 
 ^ outright". 
 
 ■Have I sought every country far and near, 
 ^ And, now it is my chance to find thee out, 
 <Must I behold thy timeless' cruel death? 
 ^Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with 
 \ thee! 
 
 / Puc. Decrepid miser I ^ base ignoble wretch! 
 f I am descended of a gentler blood: 
 ( Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. 
 ^ Shep. Out, out! — My lords, an please you, 
 ( 'tis not so; lO 
 
 (1 did beget her, all the ])arish knows: 
 r' Her mother liveth yet, can testify 
 i^She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. 
 n'(//-. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parent- 
 age? 
 York. This argues what her kind of life hath 
 been, — 
 Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. 
 ' Shep. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so ob- 
 ( stacle ! ^ 
 
 'God knows thou art a collop^ of my flesh; 
 <; And for thy sake have I shed many a tear. 
 ^Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. eo 
 
 < Puc. Pea.sant, avaunti — You have suborn'd 
 s this man, 
 
 ^Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 
 \ Shep. 'T is true, I gave a noble to the priest 
 ^The morn that I was wedded to her mother. — 
 /Kneel down and take my blessing, good my 
 't girl. 
 
 ^Wilt thou not stooj)? Now cursed be the time 
 |!0f thy nativity! I would the milk 
 i Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her 
 ) breast, 
 
 /Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake ! 
 )0r else, when thou didst keep my lambs a- 
 \ field, :;o 
 
 1 Timeless, untimely. - Miser, miserable wretch. 
 
 ^ Obstacle, i.e. obstinate. 
 
 ■* A collcp, a piece: literally, a slice of meat. 
 
 308 
 
 I wi.sh some ravenous wolf had eaten thee ! 
 Dost thou deny thy father, cur.sed dral)^ ■3-2 
 O, bui'n her, burn her 1 hanging is too good. 
 
 [E.vit. 
 York. Take her aAvay; for she hath liv'd too 
 
 To fill the world with vicious (jualitie.s. 
 
 J'ltc. First, let me tell you whom you have 
 contlemn'd : 
 Not one begotten of a shepherd swain, 
 But issued from the pi'ogeny of kings; 
 Virtuous and holy; chosen from aljove, 
 By inspiration of celestial grace, 40 
 
 To work exceeding miracles on earth. 
 I never had to do with wicked spirits: 
 But you, — that are polluted with yoiu" lusts, 
 Stain'tl with the guiltless blood of innocents, 
 Corruijt and tainted with a thousand vices, — 
 Because you want the grace that others have, 
 You judge it straight a thing impossible 
 To compass wonders but by hel]) of devils. 
 No, misconceived^ Joan of Arc hath been 
 A virgin from her tender infancy, so 
 
 Chaste and immacidate in very thought; 
 Whose maiden blood, thus ligorously effus'd. 
 Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. •- 
 York. Ay, ay: — away with her to execution! ' 
 Wxr. Anil hark ye, sirs; because she is a; 
 maid, ^ 
 
 Spare for no faggots, let there be enow^: ' 
 
 Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, -' 
 That so her torture may be .shortened. ^ 
 
 Puc. Will nothing turn your uiu'elenting^ 
 hearts? — '^ 
 
 Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, 60^ 
 
 That warranteth by law to be thy ]n-ivilege. — •' 
 I am with child, ye bloody homicides: ^ 
 
 Miu'der not then the fruit within my womb, ^ 
 Although ye hale me to a violent death. ' 
 
 York. Now heaven forf end ! the holy maid-, 
 
 with child ! \ 
 
 War. The greatest miracle that e'er yej 
 
 wrought: ^^ 
 
 Is all your strict preciseness come to this? ( 
 
 York. She and the Dauphin have been jug-;I 
 
 gling:" ^ 
 
 I did imagine what would be her refuge. ^ 
 
 5 Misconceived, misuntlerstDOil. 
 
 •5 Jwjgling. pronounced here as a trisyllable.
 
 ACT V. Scent; i. 
 
 KING HENRY YI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 War. \YelJ, well, go to; we'll have no bas- 
 tards live; 70 
 Especially since Charles must father it. 
 
 Fuc. You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his : 
 ; It was Alengon that enjoy'd my love. 
 
 Fork. Alengon! that notorious Machiavel I 
 It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 
 
 Piic. O, give me leave, I have deluded you: 
 I'T was neither Charles nor yet the duke I 
 
 nam'd, 
 
 ', But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd. 
 War. A mariied man ! that 's most intoler- 
 able. 
 ;, Tori: Why, here 's a giil ! I think she knows 
 I not well, so 
 
 ; There were so many, Avhom she may accuse. 
 } War. It's sign she hath been liberal and 
 free. 
 Tori: And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin 
 '( pure. — 
 
 ^Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and 
 j thee : 
 
 ^Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. 
 > Fur. Then lead me hence ; with whom I 
 / leave my curse : 
 
 / May nevei' glorious sun reflex^ his beams 
 ^Uijon the country where you make abode; 
 < But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
 (Environ you, till mischief and despair 90 
 
 ; Drive you to break your necks or hang your- 
 selves! [Exit, guarded. 
 York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to 
 ashes, 
 \Thou foul accursed minister of hell ! ] 
 
 Unter Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of 
 Winchester, attended. 
 
 Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence 
 With letters of commission from the king. 
 For know, my lords, the states of Christen- 
 dom, 
 Mov'd with remorse'^ of these outi-ageous bi'oils, 
 Have earnestly implor'd a general peace 
 Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; 
 And here at hand the Dauphin and his train 
 Approacheth, to confer about some matter, loi 
 Fori: Is all our travail turn'd to this 
 effect? 
 
 1 Reflex = reflect. 
 
 3 Remorse, pity. 
 
 After the slaughter of so many peers, 103 
 
 So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiei's. 
 That in this quarrel have been overthrown, 
 And sold their bodies for their country's 
 
 benefit, 
 Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? 
 Have we not lost most part of all the towns. 
 By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, 
 Our great progenitors had conquered 1 — no 
 O, Warwick, Warwick ! I foresee with grief 
 The utter loss of all the realm of France. 
 War. Be patient, York: if we conclude a 
 peace, 
 It shall be with such strict and severe cov- 
 enants 
 As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 
 
 Enter Charles, Alengon, Bastard, 
 Reignier, and others. 
 
 Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus 
 agreed 
 That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd iu 
 
 France, 
 We come to be informed by yourselves 
 What the conditions of that league must be. 
 Fori: Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler 
 chokes 120 
 
 The hollow passage of my prison'd voice. 
 By sight of these our baleful enemies. 
 
 Car. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted 
 thus: 
 That, in regard King Henry gives consent, 
 Of mere comj^assion and of lenity. 
 To ease your country of distressful war. 
 And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, 
 You shall become true liegemen to his crown : 
 And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear 
 To i^ay him tribute, and submit thyself, 130 
 Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, 
 And still enjoy thy regal dignity. 
 
 Alen. Must he be, then, a shadow of him- 
 self? 
 Adorn his temples with a coronet. 
 And yet, in substance and authority, 
 Retain but privilege of a private man ? 
 This jiroffer is absurd and reasonless. 
 
 Char. 'Tis known already that I am pos- 
 sess'd 
 With more than half the Gallian territories, 
 309
 
 ACT V. Scene i. 
 
 KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 5. 
 
 And therein reverenc'd for their hiwful king: 
 Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquisli'd, 141 
 Detract so much from tliat prerogative, 
 As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole ? 
 No, lord ambassador; I '11 rather keep 
 That which I have than, coveting for more. 
 Be cast from possibility of all. 
 
 •^'fl 11'' ^ lil'L 
 
 Kitto. Your wondrous rare ilescription, noble earl. 
 Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me.— (Act v. 5. 1, 2.) 
 
 Tod: Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret 
 means 
 Us'd intercession to obtain a league, 
 And, now the matter grows to compromise, 
 Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? 150 
 
 Either accept the title thou usurp'st, 
 Of benefit^ proceeding from our king 
 
 > Benefit, used in its legal sense of property IjestoweJ 
 bj' tlie favour of the donor. 
 
 310 
 
 And not of any challenge of desert, 153 
 
 Or we will ])lague thee with incessant wars. 
 lieiff. [Aside to C/tarles] My lord, you do 
 not well ill obstinacy 
 To cavil in the course of this contract: 
 If once it be neglected, ten to one 
 We .shall not iind like oi)])()rtunity. 
 
 Alen. [Asule to C/turles] To say the truth, it 
 is your policy 
 To save your subjects from such massacre 160 
 And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen 
 By our proceeding in hostility; 
 And therefore take this compact of a truce. 
 Although you break it when your jileasure 
 serves. 
 War. How .say'st thou, Charles? shall (;ur 
 
 condition stand ? 
 (7uir. It .shall; 
 Only reserv'd, you claim no interest 
 In any of our towns of garri.son. 
 
 VorL Then swear allegiance to his ma- 
 jesty. 
 As thou art knight, never to disobey iTO 
 
 Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, 
 Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 [C/tarh's and the French nobles swear 
 allegiance to King Ilennj. 
 So, now dismiss your army when ye ])lea.se; 
 Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be 
 
 still, 
 For here we entertain a solemn jjcace. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ScEXE V. London. A room in the ixdace. 
 
 Enter King Henry in conference vith 
 Suffolk; Gloster and Exeter. 
 
 King. Your wondrous rare description, 
 
 noble earl, 
 Of beauteous Margaret hath astoni.sh'd me: 
 Her virtues, graced with external gifts. 
 Do breed love's settled passions in my heart: 
 Q And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts 
 Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, \ 
 So am I driven by breath of her renown, '. 
 Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive \ 
 
 Where I may have fruition of her love. ] 
 Svf. Tush, my good lord, — this sujjerficial 
 
 tale 10
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 Is but a preface of her worthy praise; 
 The chief perfections of that lovely dame- 
 Had I sufficient skill to utter them — 
 Would make a volume of enticing lines, 
 Able to ravish any dull conceit: 
 And, which is more, she is not so divine, 
 So full-rejilete with choice of all delights, 
 But with as humble lowliness of mind, 
 She is content to be at your command ; 
 
 Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, 
 To love and honour Henry as her lord. -Ji 
 
 King. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pi-e- 
 sume. 
 Therefore, my lord protector, give consent 
 That Margaret may be England's royal queen. 
 
 Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
 You know, va.y lord, your highness is betroth'd 
 Unto another lady of esteem: 
 
 Huf. Thus Suffolk li;\th prevail'd.— (Act v. 5. I113.) 
 
 How shall we then dispense with that contract, 
 And not deface your honour with reproach? 
 
 Sv.f. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; 
 Or one that, at a triumph ^ having vow'd 3i 
 To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists 
 By reason of his adversary's odds: 
 A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds. 
 And therefore may be broke without offence. 
 
 Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more 
 than that? 
 Her father is no better than an earl, 
 Although in glorious titles he excel. 
 
 Suf. O, yes, my lord, her father is a king. 
 The King of Naples and Jerusalem ; 40 
 
 1 Triumph, tournament. 
 
 And of such great authority in France u 
 
 As his alliance will confirm our peace. 
 And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. 
 
 Glo. And so the Earl of Armagnac may do, 
 Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
 
 Exe. Beside, his wealth doth wari'ant liberal 
 dower, 
 Where 2 Reignier sooner will receive than give 
 
 Suf. A dowei', my lords! disgrace not so 
 your king, 
 That he should be so abject, base, and poor. 
 To choose for wealth and not for perfect love. 
 Henry is able to enrich his queen 51 
 
 And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
 
 ■- n7tere=wliereas. 
 311
 
 ACT V. Sceue J. 
 
 KIXG HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 So worthless jieasaiits bargain for their wives, 
 As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 51 
 Marriage is a matter of more worth 
 Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; 
 J [Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, 
 i Must be companion of his nuptial bed : 
 ^ And therefore, lords, since he affects^ her most, 
 (■ It most of all these reasons bindeth us, oo 
 
 ) In our opinions she should be jireferr'd. ] 
 For what is wedlock forced but a hell. 
 An age of discord and continual strife ? 
 Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss. 
 And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
 Whom should we match with Henry, being a 
 
 king, 
 But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? 
 Her peerless feature, joined with her birth. 
 Approves her fit for none but for a king: 
 Her valiant courage and undaunted sjjirit — 
 More than in women commonly is seen — 
 AVill answer hope in issue of a king; 
 For Henry, son unto a conqueror, 
 Is likely to beget more conquerors, 
 If with a lady of so high resolve 
 As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. 
 Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me 
 That Margaret shall be queen, and none but 
 slie. 
 King. Whether it be through force of your 
 report, 
 My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that so 
 
 My tender V(juth was never yet attaint 
 
 1 Affects = \o\cs. 
 312 
 
 With any passion of inflaming love, S2 
 
 I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd, 
 I feel such sharp dissension in my breast. 
 Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear. 
 As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
 Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to 
 
 France; 
 Agree to any covenants; and procure 
 That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
 Across the seas to England, and be crown'd 00 
 King Henry's faithful and anointed queen: 
 Q For your expenses and sufficient charge, ) 
 Among the people gather up a tenth. ] '} 
 
 Be gone, I say; for, till you do return, 
 I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. — 
 And you, good uncle, banish all offence: 
 If you do censure- me by what you Avere, 
 Not what you are, I know it will excuse 
 This sudden execution of my will. 
 And so, conduct me where, from company,^ lOO 
 I may revolve and ruminate my grief. \^E.vit. 
 
 Ulo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and 
 last. \Exeunt Gloster and Exeter. 
 
 Snf. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; and thus 
 he goes. 
 As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, 
 With hope to find the like event in love. 
 But i)rosper better than the Trf)jan did. 
 Margaret shall now be queen, and I'ule the king; 
 But I will rule both her, the king, and realm. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 2 Censure, judge. 
 
 3 From company, i.e. away from company.
 
 MAP TO ILLUSTRATE KING HENRV VI. -PART I. 
 
 314
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY VL— PAKT I. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 1. Henry VI. was the only son of Henry V, and Katha- 
 rine, daughter of Charles VI. of France. He succeeded 
 to the throne in 1422 at the age of nine months, or there- 
 abouts ; and reigned really, or nominally, till 1461, when 
 Edward IV. was proclaimed king. He was restored, by 
 the Earl of Warwick, the King-Maker, for a brief period, 
 in October, 1470 ; but, after the battle of Barnet in April, 
 1471, he was committed to the Tower, where he died — 
 probably by the hand of an assassin — on the 23rd May in 
 that same year. 
 
 2. JOHN Duke of Bedford, third son of Henry IV. liy his 
 first wife, Mary Bohun, daughter and co-heiress of Hum- 
 phrey Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Xottinghani, was born 
 in 1390 ; created Constable of England about 1403, and 
 Duke of Bedft)rd in 1414. In 1416 he was sent with a large 
 fleet to the relief of Harfleur, and gained a most import- 
 ant victory over the French. After accomplishing the 
 relief of Harfleur he returned into England. Later on in 
 the same year he was made " gouernour or regent of the 
 realnie, to hold and enioie the office so long as the king 
 was occupied in the French wars" (Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 
 88). In 1420 he took part in the siege of Melun, and 
 afterwards accompanied King Henry V. in his trium- 
 phal entry into Paris the same year. He was one of the 
 godfathers of Henry VI., and helped to escort the queen 
 from France in 1422. He was with Henry V. during his 
 last illness. The king on his deathbed appointed him 
 regent of France in 1422, and he continued to hold that 
 position till his death in 1435, at Rouen; he was buried in 
 Rouen Cathedral. 
 
 He appears among the Dramatis Personrc of Henry V., 
 and in II. Henry IV. as Prince John of Lancaster. The 
 Duke of Bedford was twice married; first to Anne, sister 
 of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, who died Novem- 
 ber 14, 1432, without issue; secondly to Jacqueline, daugh- 
 ter of Peter, Count of St. Pol (or "S Paule," as Holinshed 
 writes it), by whom he had no issue. 
 
 Lewis XI., having been urged to deface a monument 
 erected to the Duke of Bedford in Rouen Cathedral, re- 
 fused to do so, declaring that he accounted it an honour 
 to have the remains of so brave and illustrious a man in 
 his dominions. 
 
 3. HuMPHREy Duke of Gloucester was the fourth and 
 youngest son of Henry IV. He married as his first wife, 
 Jac<iueline, Countess of Holland and Hainault, which 
 union was annulled by Pope Martin V. Gloucester im- 
 mediately married his mistress Eleanor, daughter of Lord 
 Cobham. He was created Duke of Gloucester by his 
 brother Henry V. in 1414. He fought with great bravery 
 at Agincourt He opposed at first the marriage of 
 Henry VI. with Margaret, the daughter of Reni, Duke 
 
 of Anjou and titular king of Naples; hut afterwards 
 appears to have expressed approliation of it. He excited 
 the enmity both of the queen and of Suffolk, and was 
 arrested on February llth, 1447, on a charge of high 
 treason. Seventeen days later he was found dead in his 
 bed. There were no marks of violence on the body, and 
 it is doubtful whether the suspicion of murder was really 
 justified. He appears as Prince Humphrey of Gloucester 
 in II. Henry IV , and as Duke of Gloucester in Henry V.; 
 in the next play the circumstances of his disgrace and 
 tragical death are treated. The Dukes of Gloucester seem 
 to have been peculiarly unfortunate. Our readers will 
 remember that Thomas of Woodstock, son of Edward 
 III., afterwards Duke of Gloucester, was murdered in the 
 reign of Richard II. 
 
 4. Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, great uncle of 
 Henry VI., was the third son of John of Gaunt, Duke of 
 Lancaster, son of Edward III., "who caused all his 
 natural children by Catherine Swinford, daughter of Sir 
 Payn Roet, alias Guyen, king of arms, and widow of Sir 
 Otes Swinfoid, Knight, to whom he was afterwards mar- 
 ried, to be called Beaufort, from the Castle of Beavfort 
 in the county of Anjou, the place of their nativity; which 
 castle came, A. D. 127G, to the house of Lancaster by the 
 marriage of Blanch, daughter of Robert I. Count of Artois, 
 and widow of Henry I. King of Navarre, with Edmund 
 (surnamed Crouchback) Earl of Lancaster, second sou of 
 Henry III. King of England." (Collins's Peerage of Eng- 
 land, vol. i. pp. 222.) 
 
 Thomas Beaufort held the offices of Admiral of the Fleet, 
 Captain of Calais, and Lord Chancellor of England under 
 Henry IV. By the same king he was created Earl of Dor- 
 set and Knight of the Garter, and on November 18th, 
 1416, by Henry V. Duke of Gloucester. He figures in 
 Henry V., where he is called by anticipation Duke of 
 Gloucester, and is wrongly stated to have held the com- 
 mand of the rearguard at the battle of Agincourt. When 
 that battle was fought he was at Harfleur, having been 
 left in charge of that town after its capture by the king's 
 army. He died, December 27th, 1426, and therefore could 
 not have been present at the coronation of Henry VI., 
 1431, as he is represented to be. He married Margaret, 
 daughter of Sir Thomas Neville, and left no issue ; his 
 large estates passing ic his nephew, John Beaufort, second 
 Duke of Somerset. He was buried at the abbey of 
 St. Edmund's Bury, where in 1772 his body was found 
 by some workmen employed in the ruins (see Collins. 
 p. 223). 
 
 5. Henry Beaufort (Cardinal Beaufort), brother of the 
 above, was created Bishop of Lincoln in 1397 ; Bishop of 
 Winchester in 1404; nominated Cardinal and Papal Legate 
 in 1417 ; but did not obtain the royal license to accept 
 these preferments till 1426. The quarrels between him 
 
 315
 
 Dramatis Persona;. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 Dramatis Persouse. 
 
 aii'l tlie Duke of Gloucester were constant, the greatest 
 jealousy existing iK'tween them. Tlie Canliiial won his 
 great triumph over his rival in 1439; when, in spite of 
 Gloucester's strong opposition, the Dnlie of Orleans was 
 released from prison. He followed Gloucester to the 
 grave, within si.x weeks, on April 11th, 1447, after a 
 lingering illness. 
 
 6. John Be.IUFORT, Earl, afterwards Duke of Somerset, 
 was the second son of .John, second Earl of Somerset, 
 and grandson of John Beaufort, the eldest brother of the 
 two Beauforts mentioned above. He succeeded his father, 
 in consequence of the death of his elder brother Henry, 
 who was unmarried, in 1418, "as third Earl of Somerset; 
 and in 1443, was created Duke of Somerset, and Earl of 
 Kendale, and constituted lieutenant and captain general 
 of Aquitain ; as also of the whole realm of France, and 
 duchy of Xormandy. His Grace departed this life on 
 May 27th, 1444 (some say in 1443), and was buried at 
 Winborne minster in Dorsetshire ; leaving issue by ilar- 
 garet his wife, widow of Sir Oliver St. John, and daughter 
 to Sir John Beauchamp, of Bletshoe in the county of 
 Bedford, Knight, (and heir to John her brother) an only 
 daughter, Margaret, married to Edmund of Hadham, 
 Earl of Richmond, eldest son of Owen ap Merideth ap 
 Tudor, and Catherine of France, Queen of England, 
 dowager to Henry V., and by him was mother of Henry 
 VJI." (Collins's Peerage of England, vol. i. p. 22:5). He 
 was the chief supporter of the Lancastrian party at court, 
 and bitterly opposed to the Duke of York. He was suc- 
 ceeded by his brother Ednnind, who is the Duke of 
 Somerset of 11. King Henry VI, 
 
 7. RICH.VUD Pi.ANTAGENET was the only son of Richard, 
 E irl of Cambridge, the younger son of the Duke of York 
 who figures in Richard II., and brother to the Aumerle 
 of the same play, who afterwards became Duke of York, 
 and was killed at Agincourt. Ills mother was Anne, 
 daughter of Roger Mortimer; through whom, and her 
 mother Philippa, he traced his descent from Lionel, Duke 
 of Clarence, third son of Edward III. His father was 
 executed for conspiracy against Henry V. in the year 
 1415. In 1425 he became Duke of York; Constable of 
 ICngland, 1430; Regent of France, after the death of the 
 Duke of Bedford ; recalled in 144(5. He opposed Queen 
 Margaret with the strongest i)ersistence. In 1449 he was 
 appointed Lieutenant of Ireland, and Protector of the 
 Kingdom, 1454 ; the next year the Wars of the Roses 
 began. He was killed at the battle of Wakefield, De- 
 cember 30, 1460. It is a remarkable thing that Henry IV. 
 sliould have spared the uncle, Aumerle, when he joined 
 a conspiracy against him; and that Henry V. should have 
 spared Aumerle's nephew, who was destined in his own 
 person, and in that of his son, to ruin and dethrone the 
 House of Lancaster. 
 
 8. Earl of Wakwick. There are supposed to be two 
 K.uls of Warwick introduced in this play. The first, who, 
 .Tecording to this supposition, api)ears oidy in act i. scene 
 1. and is a persona iniita, was, undouljtedly, Richard 
 Beauchamp, who succeede<l to the title in 1401, on the 
 <leath of his father Thomas Beauchamp. condemned as 
 a traitor in the reign of Richard II., but not executed. 
 
 316 
 
 He was made lieutenant and deputy-regent in France by 
 the Duke of Bedford when he was sent for into England 
 by Cardinal Beaufort in 1425 (see Hall, p. 130). In 1427 
 he was recalled from France and appointed "governor" 
 of the young king, Henry VI., and held this office nine 
 years. In 1437 he was appointed Regent of France, and 
 died at Rouen in 1439. He is the same Warwick who 
 appears in Henry V. and also frequently in Henry IV., 
 where Shakespeare makes the mistake of causing the 
 king to address him as "Xevil," and not as "Beau- 
 champ" (II. Henry IV. iii. 1. CO). He was called "the 
 Good," and " the Father of Courtesy." 
 
 The second Earl of Warwick of this play is supposed to 
 be Richard Neville, called "the King-Maker," who is un- 
 doubtedly one of the principal characters in the Second 
 and Third Parts of Henry VI. He was the eldest son of 
 Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, who was son of Raljih 
 de Neville, Earl of Westmoreland (see First and Second 
 Parts of Henry IV. and Henry V.) by his second wife 
 Joan, daughter of John of Gaunt and sister of the Duke 
 of Exeter, and became Earl of Salisbury by his marruige 
 with Alice, daughter of Thomas, Earl of Salisbury (see 
 below). The young Richard Neville married Anne, the 
 daughter of Richard Beauchamp mentioned above ; and 
 through her inherited the vast estates of the Warwick 
 family; he was created Earl of Warwick, 1449, when he was 
 about twenty-one years old, and not till five years after 
 the marriage of Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou, with 
 which this play ends. As he was not born till 142s, that 
 is six years after the play opens, it is difficult to see how 
 he could have taken the prominent part assigned to the 
 Earl of Warwick in act iii. and act iv. There is no reason 
 why the Earl of Warwick, all through the play, should 
 not be Richard Beauchamp; except that he is repre- 
 sented as being present at the execution of Joan of Arc; 
 when, according to history, he would have been in Eng- 
 land, as he was at that time governor of the young king 
 Henry VI. That, however, is a very much slighter his- 
 torical discrepancy than to suppose that ihe W'arnick in 
 all the scenes of this play, except act i. scene 1, was 
 "the King-Maker." We have therefore only given Beau- 
 champ Earl of Warwick among the Dramatis Personnc of 
 this play. 
 
 9. Earl of Salisbury. Thomas Montague, or Monta- 
 cute, fourth Earl of Salisbury, was the son of John the 
 third Earl (see note to Dramatis Persona;, Richard II.). 
 When Beauchamp was recalled from France to become 
 the young king's governor, or tutor, the Earl of Salisbury 
 was sent to take his place with the army. It was at his 
 instigation that a determined attempt was made to take 
 the city of Orleans, an attempt only partially successful: 
 an outwork was captured, including a tower, in which 
 the earl met his death a few days afterwards, on the 3rd 
 November, 1428. He is supposed to have been "the first 
 English gentleman that was slain by a cannon-ball " 
 [French (on the authority of Camden), p. 1.30]. He mar- 
 ried first Eleanor Holland, daughter of Thomas, second 
 Earl of Kent, by whom he had issue one daughter, Alice, 
 who married Richard Neville, father of "the King- 
 Maker" (see above, under Earl of Warwick). This Earl 
 of Salisbury was a patron of English literature in the
 
 Dianiatis Personae, 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 Dramatis Persona;. 
 
 person of Lyilgate, and he married, as his second wife, 
 the grand-daugliter of Cliaiicer; but by her lie left no 
 issue. 
 
 10. Eaul of Suffolk. William de la Pole, Earl, ^Marquis, 
 and Duke of Suffolk, was the grandson of ilichael de la 
 Pole, Earl of Sutt'olk, one of the favourites of Richard 
 n. His father fell at the siege of Harfltur, 1415. His 
 elder brother Michael de la Pole was killed at Agincourt. 
 He distinguished himself at the battle of Verneuil, and 
 succeeded to the chief command at the siege of Orleans 
 after the death of Salisbury. He was taken prisoner at 
 the siege of Jergeau, May IS, 1429, and one of his brothers, 
 Sir Alexander Pole, was killed. He and his other brother 
 were the only ones among the prisoners taken w hose lives 
 were spared. He was present at the coronation of Henry 
 VI. in Paris in 1431. He Avas one of the representatives 
 of the king at the " diet" held at Tours in 1443 (see Ho- 
 linshed, vol. iii. p. 206), when a truce between the kings 
 of Fiance and England was arranged. He is one of the 
 characters in the next play, in which his death is recorded. 
 In 1450 he was impeached by the Commons, and the king 
 was compelled to banish him. The ship in which he sailed 
 was taken by one of the ships of the Duke of E.veter, who 
 was then Constable of the Tower. The captain of the 
 ship took upon himself to behead Suffolk, without any 
 trial, on the coast of Kent near Dover. 
 
 11. Lord Talbot. Sir John Talbot, first Earl of Shrews- 
 bury, was the second son of Sir Richard Talbot by his 
 wife .Anne, the sister of Lord L'Estrange of Blackmere. 
 He succeeded his brother Gilliert Talbot ; he married 
 Maude, the elder of the two daughters and co-heiress of 
 Nevile Lord Furnivall, and was first summoned to Parlia- 
 ment in the eleventh year of the reign of Henry IV. by the 
 title of Lord Furnivall, and afterwards by the name of 
 .John Talbot of Hallamshire; in 1412 he was appointed 
 Justice of Ireland: in 1414 he was appointed Lieutenant 
 of Ireland; and in 1419, on the death of his elder brother 
 Gilbert, he returned to England, attended the king in 
 France at the siege of Sene in Burgundy, and of Molyn 
 (Moulins) on the Seine, and was with him at his trium- 
 phant entry in to Paris in 1420. He continued with Henry V. 
 till the death of that king. In 1423 he was elected Knight 
 of the Garter, and in 1425 he was, for the second time, ap- 
 pointed Lieutenant of Ireland, and was made general of 
 the army in 1427. In 1429 he was taken prisoner at the 
 battle of Patay, and after three years' captivity was set at 
 liberty for a very heavy ransom. He immediately raised 
 new^ forces an<l returned to Fiance ; was created Earl of 
 Shrewsbury ilay 20th, 1442, and Earl of We.xford and 
 Waterford about 144.5. On July 20tli, 1453, in attempting 
 to raise the siege of Chatillon, he was mortally wounded, 
 being shot through the thigh by a cannon-liall, and his 
 horse was killed under him. He died on the battle-field 
 at the age of eighty; having been "victorious in forty 
 several battles and dangerous skirmishes" (Collins's 
 Peerage, vol. iii. p. 16). 
 
 12. John Talbot was the eldest son of the preceding 
 by .Margaret his second wife, who was daughter and co- 
 heiress of Richard Beauchamp Earl of Warwick. He was 
 
 killed at the same battle as that which proved fatal to 
 his father, having refused to save liis life by flight. 
 
 13. Edmund iloRTiMER, Earl of March. It is presumed 
 that Shakespeare means Edmund Mortimer, the last Earl 
 of March. He was the eldest son of Roger Earl of Maich 
 and Eleanor Holland, and grandson of the Edmund 
 Mortimer who married Philippa, the daughter of Lionel 
 Duke of Clarence, the second son of Edward III. It was 
 to avenge Roger ilortinier's death, in 1398, that Richard 
 II. set out on that e.xpedition to Ireland, from which he 
 returned only to find his kingdom practically taken from 
 him by Bolingbroke. Edmund ilortimer, who was only 
 seven years old when Richard II. was deposed, became, 
 through the death of his father, the rightful heir to the 
 English crown. The usurper Bolingbroke did not venture 
 to take his life, but always regarded him with great jeal- 
 ousy; and it was in order to set aside Mortimer's un- 
 doubted right to the throne that Bolingbroke, or his 
 friends, invented the fiction that Edmund, Earl of Lan- 
 caster, the second son of Henry III., from whom he him- 
 self was lineally descended by his mother Blanch, was 
 really the eldest son; and that his brother Edward, after- 
 wards Edward 1., was made eldest son becau-e of the de- 
 formity of Edmund; but the manifest improbability of this 
 story, which was in violation of all known facts, induced 
 Bolingbroke's friends to advise him to claim the crown 
 on the ground that Richard II. had adopted him as his 
 heir; and that, failing the Earl of March, he was, undoulit- 
 edly, the ne.xt heir male. It would seem that the j'oung 
 Earl of March was kept in a kind of honourable imprison- 
 ment in Windsor Castle, and that he was ultimately placed 
 under the guardianship of the Prince of Wales, afterwarcis 
 Henry V., to whom he was always a most devoted friend, 
 serving under him at Harfleur and Agincourt, and at the 
 siege of Melun. Frencli says (p. 134) he "carried the 
 sceptre at his queen Katharine's coronation, and was one 
 of the chief, and without doubt one of the truest, 
 mourners who followed his royal friend's protracted 
 funeral procession through France to England." In 1422 
 Edmund Mortimer was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ire- 
 land, where he died in January, 1424, at the age of thirty- 
 two, at Trim Castle, a place w hich was long the residence 
 of the governors of Ireland. French (pp. 135. 136) gives 
 several proofs, taken from official documents of the time. 
 which leave no doubt that the Earl of Jlarch not only 
 had his liberty in the reign of Henry V., but that he was 
 treated with every honour befitting his rank. He was 
 married to Anne Stafford, daughter of Edmund, fifth 
 Earl of Stafford, but left no issue, so that Richard Plan- 
 tagenet became his heir. Mortimer's sister, Anne, mar- 
 ried Richard, Earl of Cambridge, the father of the above- 
 mentioned Richard Plantagenet who claimed the throne, 
 through his mother, as the last descendant of Lionel, 
 Duke of Clarence. The fearful obscurity that surrounds 
 this character appears to have arisen from the mistake 
 made by the chroniclers in confusing with the young 
 Earl of March, his uncle, Edmund Mortimer, younger 
 brother of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, a mistake 
 which Shakespeare has followed in the First Part of 
 Henry IV. The reader of history becomes further con- 
 fused by the fact that H(jlinshed persists in calling this 
 317
 
 Dramatis Persouae. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY YI.— PART 1. 
 
 Dramatis Persouce. 
 
 Sir EJiiHind Mortimer Earl of Marcli, ami in giving the 
 same title to George of Dunbar, Earl of the Marches of 
 Siotlanii, who had no more right to the title of Earl of 
 March than he had to that of King of England. 
 
 14. SiK John F.\stolfe, son of John Fastolfe, . . . was 
 born "on Nov. 6, 1380, at Great Yarmouth, co. Norfolk; lie 
 was educated .is a page in the household of Thomas Mow- 
 bray, the 'Duke of Norfolk' in Kiii(; Richard 11., and 
 afterwards attended Pfince Thomas of Lancaster to Ire- 
 land in 1405. He accompanied Henry V. in his expedi- 
 tion to France in 1410" (French, p. 13(i), and was ap- 
 pointed by Thomas Duke of Exeter his lieutenant at Har- 
 tleur after its capture by the English army (see Hall, p. 
 C2). He was not present at the battle of Agincourt, us 
 tlie town and garrison of Harfleur were left in his charge. 
 He distinguished liiniself on several occasions, notably 
 at the siege of the Castle of Pacy, 1423, and was made 
 deputy governor under the Duke of Bedford of the duchy 
 of Normandy on this side of the river Seine, and governor 
 of the counties of Anjou and Maine in the same year 
 (see Hall, pp. 118, 119). He was superseded, however, in 
 the latter oltice by Lord Talbot in 1427, and was "assigned 
 to anotlier place " (Hall, p. 141). " He remained in France 
 under the Duke of York, who rewarded his services with 
 a i)ension, and he at length retired from active service in 
 1440, to his estate at Caistor, near Great Yarmouth, where 
 the remains exist of the stately castellated brick man- 
 .sion, which he built from tlie proceeds, as alleged, of the 
 ransom of John II., Duke of AlenQon (son of tlie prince 
 killed at Agincourt), who was taken prisoner by Fastolfe, 
 at the battle of Venieuil, in 1424. Sir John died at 
 Caistor, Nov. 6, 145i), leaving no issue by his wife, who 
 pre-deceased him in 144(j." . . . "Sir John beiiueathed 
 the greater part of his large estates to charitable and 
 pious purposes, and in his lifetime had endowed Magda- 
 lene College, Oxford, with the manor of Caldecot, co. 
 Suffolk, and the tenement called the 'Boar's Head' in 
 Southwark" (t7 supra, pp. 137, 138). Many interesting 
 letters from and concerning Sir John Fastolfe will be 
 found in vol. i. of the Paston letters. 
 
 15. Sill William Lucv. This is probably the same Sir 
 William Lucy mentioned Ijy Hall, as having been killed 
 at the battle of Towcester, Hall says (p. 244): "and syr 
 William Lucy, which made great hast to come to parte 
 of the tight, and at his first approche was strike in the 
 lied w' an axe." French says (p. 139): " He married Eliza- 
 beth, daughter of Sir Henry Percy of Athol, son of Sir 
 Thomas, next brother of 'Hotspur,' but died without 
 issue." There was anotlier Sir William Lucy, one of the 
 Lucys of Cliarlecote, three times sheriff of Warwickshire 
 in King Henry VI. 's reign, who might have been the 
 character introduced in tliis play. 
 
 16. Siu William Glaxsdale. Hall mentions William 
 Glasdale (t.e. Glaiisdale) as taking i)ait in an expeilition 
 despatched by the Regent, the Duke of Bedford, under 
 the command of the Earl of Salisbury, into Burgundy, in 
 142.3. He was made captain of Malicorne in 1424 liy the 
 Earl of Salisbury. He is also mentioned (p. 145) as having 
 been present at the siege of Orleans, when the Earl of 
 S.ilisbuiy and Sir Thomas Gargrave were killed; "the 
 
 318 
 
 keepynge of the toure and Biilwerke," when the fatal 
 event happened, having been committed to his care 
 (Hall, p. 145). He was killed at the siege of Orleans in 
 the assault on the Bastille saincte Loure (Hall, p. 148), 
 which the French, largely outnumbering the Eiigll&h, 
 tuok by assault, and set on fire. It was bravely defended; 
 but before Lord Tall)ot could come to the rescue of the 
 small garrison it was taken, and "Willyuni (Jladdisdale 
 the capitain was slain" (p. 148). 
 
 17. Sir Thomas Gaugkave. Tlie only mention I can find 
 in Hall of the above is the reference to his death at tlie 
 siege of Orleans: "Sir Thomas Gargrave was likewise 
 stricken so that he died in within two dales" (Hall, 
 p. 145). Holinshed mentions a Sir Robert Gargrave who 
 was made captain at Pontorson by the Duke of Gloucester 
 in 1418 (p. 96). 
 
 18. Mayor of London. " This is the first time that this 
 important functionary is introduced in Shakespeare's 
 plays. The events in act i. scene 3, and act iii. scene 1, 
 both really occurred in 142.5, during the time that the 
 Lord Mayor was John Coventry, citizen and mercer; and 
 it is recorded in history that he behaved manfully on the 
 occasions, and put the Bishop of Winchester's faction to 
 flight" (French, p. 141). 
 
 19. WooDviLE, Lieutenant of the Tower, was a much 
 more important character than we should be made to 
 believe from the very small part that he takes in the ac- 
 tion of this play. He was a member of a good Nor- 
 thamptonshire family. According to HalP in the fifth 
 year of Henry V. he was appointed captain at Ilarcourt 
 in Normandy by the Duke of Clarence, and in tlie next 
 year he was aiipointed captain at Dangu. In 1437 he 
 married Jaciiueliuc, the young widow of tlie Duke of 
 Bedford. By her he had a numerous family, four sons 
 and six daughters. The elde.st son. Sir Antony Woodvile, 
 is the Lord Kivers of the Third Part of Henry VI., and 
 the Earl Rivers of Richard III. His eldest daughter, Eliza- 
 beth, married, first. Sir John Grey, and became after- 
 wards the queen of Edward IV. Woodvile was created 
 Knight of the Garter and Lord Rivers by Henry VI., and 
 Earl Rivers by his son-in-law Edward IV. in 1400. The 
 earldom became extinct on the death without is.sue of 
 the third earl, the youngest son of Richard Woodvile, in 
 14'.)1. In the third year of the reign of Henry VI. Wood- 
 vile was appointed Constable of the Tower. According to 
 Hall his marriage greatly displeased his wife's family (see 
 Hall, p. 185). He met his death in the disturljances which 
 took place after Warwick had declared against Edward 
 IV. in 1409. Hall gives the following account of his 
 death: "'The Nortliamptoiishire men, with diuers of y« 
 Northenime by tluni jirocurcd, in this fury made them 
 a capitayne, and called liym Robyn of Kidde-dale, and 
 sodaynly came to the manner of Grafton, where the erle 
 Ryuers father to the Queue then lay whom they loued 
 not, and there liy force toke the sayd erle and syr Ihoii 
 his Sonne, and brought them to Northampton, and there 
 
 1 According to Holinshed the date in each case is one year later, 
 viz. tlie sixth and seventli years respectively. This discrepancy of a 
 year or even more between Hall and Holinshed is not unconjmoii.
 
 Dramatis Personse. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY YI.— PART I. 
 
 Dramatis Personae. 
 
 without iudgemetit stroke of their heddes, whose bodjes 
 were solemiily euterred iu the Blackefreers at Xorth- 
 aniptou" (p. 274). 
 
 20. Vernon of the White Eose, or York Faction, was pro- 
 bably Sir Richard Vernon of Haddon Hall, near Bake- 
 well, Derbyshire, who, Courtenay says, was the speaker in 
 the parliament held at Leicester. He does not appear to 
 have been in any way connected with the Sir Richard 
 Vernon of the First Part of Henry IV., who died in 1452. 
 
 21. B.iSSET of the Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction. It is 
 uncertain wlio this cliaracter was. Hall (p. 90) mentions 
 that William Basset was appointed captain at Senclere 
 Surgette. French (p. 143) says; " The person in this play 
 may have been one of the heroes of Agincourt, either 
 Robert Basset, who was one of the lances in the train of 
 the earl marshal, or Philip Basset, a lance in the retinue 
 of Lord Botreaux." The family of Basset furnished many 
 distinguished soldiers in the reigns of Henry IIL and his 
 three immediate successors. One Robert Basset, alder- 
 man, and afterwards Lord Mayor of London, distinguislied 
 himself highly in the defence of the city of London against 
 Thomas Nevill, the bastard son of Lord Fauconbridge in 
 1471 (see Holinshed, voL iii. p. 323). 
 
 22 Charles Vll. King of France was the son of 
 Chailes VI., and was born in 1403 and died in 1461. He 
 was Regent of France for some time during the madness 
 <if his unfortunate father. He was crowned at Rheims in 
 1429; he subsequently recovered all the French conquests 
 of F.ngland, except Calais. 
 
 23. Reignier Duke of Anjou was the second son of 
 Lewis II. Duke of Anjou and Count of Provence. He 
 married Isabella, heiress of the Duchy of Lorraine, and 
 succeeded his brother Lewis III. in the dukedom of 
 Anjou, in 1434. Having been left heir to the kingdom 
 of Naples by tlie will of Queen Joanna II., he went to 
 Naples in 143S; but in 1442 was obliged to retire thence 
 before the victorious Alfonso of Arragon. He returned 
 to Lorraine, where he lived till 1452 ; when he gave up 
 that duchy to his son, John of Calabria, and went to live 
 in Anjou. Of that duchy he was robbed by Lewis XL, 
 1473; and he retired thence to Provence, where he died, 
 14S0. He left his estates to Charles du Maine, his nephew, 
 at whose death tliey reverted to the crown of France. 
 His sister Mary of Anjou was married to King Charles 
 VII.; his daughter Margaret to Henry VI. He made 
 himself beloved in all the countries which he governed, 
 .md was known as "Le bon roi Ren6." His daughter 
 does not seem to have inherited her father's virtues. 
 
 24 Duke of Burgundv. Philip IIL, called Le Bon, suc- 
 ceeded his father Jean Sam Peiir in 1419. He is the same 
 Duke of Burgundy that appears in the last act of Henry 
 V. With that king he signed the treaty of Troyes, by 
 which he recognized Henry as Regent of France and heir 
 presumptive to Charles VL; but in 1425 he was recon- 
 ciled to Charles VIL, and signed the treaty of Arras. 
 Philip was three times married, his third wife being 
 Isabella of Portugal, daughter of John I. and Philippa, 
 daughter of John of Gaunt; by her he became the father 
 of "Charles the Bold," the well-known Duke of Burgundy, 
 
 who was the great rival of Lewis XI. It was with Duke 
 Philip that Lewis took refuge after having, when Dauphin, 
 rebelled against his father. He died at Bruges on June 
 12th, 1467. 
 
 25. Duke of Alen^on was John II. , son of John I., whom 
 he succeeded in 1415. He was twice condemned to death: 
 first, for having had treasonable communications with 
 the English in 145S; and secondly, in 1474, for having 
 assisted Charles the Bold of Burgundy against Lewis XI. 
 On both occasions he was pardoned, but died, after seven- 
 teen months of captivity, in 1476. 
 
 26. Bastard of Orleans. John, Count of Longueville 
 and Dunois, born 1392, died 1470. He was one of the most 
 distinguished of the French generals. In 1444 he was 
 appointed lieutenant-general of France, and in 1450 he 
 won the battle of Formigny. Hall (p. 144) has the fol- 
 lowing account of this personage: " Here must I a little 
 digresse, and declare to you, what was this bastard of 
 Orleance, whiche was not onely now capitain of the citee, 
 but also after, by Charles the si.xt made erle of Dunoys, 
 and in great authoritie in Fraunce, and e.xtreme enemie to 
 the Englishe nacion, as by this story you shall apparauntly 
 perceiue, of whose line and steme dyscend the Dukes of 
 Longuile and the Marques of Rutylon. I>e\ves Duke of 
 Orleance murthered in Paris, by Ihon duke of Burgoyne, 
 as you before haue harde, was owner of the Castle of 
 Coney, on the Frontiers of Fraunce toward Arthoys, 
 wherof he made Constable the lord of Canny, a man not 
 so wise as his wife was faire, and yet she was not so faire. 
 but she was as well beloued of the duke of Orleance, as 
 of her husband. Betwene the duke and her husliaude 
 (I cannot tell who was father) she conceiued a child, and 
 brought furthe a pretye boye called Ihon, whiche child 
 beyng of the age of one yere, the duke disceased and not 
 long after the mother, and the Lorde of Cawny ended 
 their liues. The next of kynne to the lord Cawny chal- 
 enged the enheritaunce, whiche was worth foure thou- 
 sande crounes a yere, alledgyng that the boye was a 
 bastard: and the kynred of the mothers side, for to sane 
 her honesty, it plainly denied. In conclusion, this matter 
 was in contencio before the Presidentesof the parliament 
 of Paris, and there haug in controuersie till the child 
 came to the age of eight yeres old. At whiche tyme it 
 was deniaunded of hym openly whose sonne he was: his 
 fredes of his mothers side aduertised him to require a 
 day to be aduised of so great an answer, whiche he asked, 
 and to hym it was gratited. In y meane season his said 
 frendes persuaded him to claime his inheritaunce, as 
 Sonne to the Lorde of Cawny, which was an honorable 
 liuyng. and an aunciet patrimony, affirming that if he 
 said contrary, he not only slaudered his mother, shamed 
 himself, and stained his bloud, but also should haue no 
 liuyng nor any thing to take to. The scholemastei- 
 thinkyng y^ his disciple had well learned his lesson, and 
 would reherse it accordyng to his instruccio, brought 
 hym before the ludges at the dale assigned, and when 
 the question was repeted to hym again, he boldy an- 
 swered, my harte geueth me, and my noble corage telleth 
 me, that I am the sonne of the noble Duke of Orleaunce, 
 more glad to be his Bastarde, with a meane liuyng. then 
 
 319
 
 Dramatis Perbonse. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAllT I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 the lawfull sonne of that coward cuckoMe Canny, with 
 his foiire thousande crounes. Tiie lustices niuche 
 merueiled at his bohie answere, and his mothers cosjns 
 detested him for shamyng of his motlier, and his fathers 
 supposed kinne reioysed in gainyng tlie patrimony and 
 possessions. Charles duke of Orleance heiyiig of this 
 iudgement, toke hyni into liis family and gauc him great 
 oftices and fees, which he well deseriied, for (duryng his 
 captiuitie) he defC-ded his liides, expulsed thenglishnien, 
 and in ccmclusion procured his deliueraunce." 
 
 27. M.VRGARET P'Anjou, the daughter of Rend, Duke of 
 Aujou, married Henry VI. in 1445. She may be said vir- 
 tually to have governed England and to have been the 
 leader of the Lancastrian party; for all that was done both 
 in the government of the country, and in the management 
 of the campaign against the Yorkists, was done under her 
 directions. Defeated at St. Albans, 1405, and at Northamp- 
 ton, 14G0, she gained a decisive victory at Wakefield in 
 that same year; but was defeated at Towcester, 1461, and 
 was forced to fly to France. Having obtained very little 
 help from Lewis XL, she returned to England; and was 
 defeated at the battle of Hexham, 1463. On Warwick de- 
 serting the Yorkists and joining the Lancastrian party, 
 the hopes of this indomitable woman revived. Slie was, 
 however, defeated at Tewksbury, 1471; after which battle 
 she had the agony of seeing her son murdered; and was 
 herself afterwards imprisoned in the Tower. From the 
 Tower she was removed to Windsor, and thence to Wal- 
 lingford, having, according to Lingard, but "a weekly al- 
 lowance of five merks for the support of herself and her 
 servants" (vol. iv. p. 193). After being kept five years a 
 prisoner she was ransomed for 50,000 golden crowns by 
 her father, who sold "the kingdomes of Xaples and both 
 the Sicils with the couutie of Provence" to Lewis XL in 
 return for the money lent (see Holinshed, iii. p. 321). She 
 died in France in 1482. 
 
 28. Countess of .Auvergxe. About this lady I can find 
 nothing historic; the incident in which she appears being 
 taken from some old source no longer extant, or, perhaps, 
 invented by one of the authors. In 1155 the territory of 
 Auvergne was divided into two portions, one the CouiU, 
 which went to the younger branch of tlie house, and the 
 other, the Dauphini, which went to the elder branch. 
 The latter passed by marriage, in 1428, to the House of 
 Jlontmorency, a branch of the House of Bourbon. At the 
 end of the tliirteenth century the county of Auvergne was 
 joined by marriage to the ancient family of La Tour, 
 which was afterwards known as La 'Jour d'Auvergne. 
 The county of Auvergne was bequeathed in 1524 by the 
 Countess Amie to Catherine de Medicis. It was united to 
 the French crown by Lewis XIII. in IGIO. 
 
 29. Joan op Arc was born in 1409 at Domrdmy. She was 
 the daughter of Jacques D'Arc, and was herself employed 
 as a shepherdess up to the age of eighteen years. At that 
 age she left her home to seek Charles VII., in.<-pired 
 with a divine mission to rescue France, her country, from 
 the hands of the English. Her great success was at the 
 battle of Patay on February 17th, 1429, after which she 
 wished to retire; but at the entreaty of tlie king she re- 
 mained with the army. The next year she was taken 
 
 320 
 
 prisoner at Compiegne by the Burgundians, on the 24th 
 May, in a sortie. To the eternal disgrace of the English, 
 to whose custody she was surrendered, she was con- 
 demned to death and burned alive at Rouen, May 14th, 
 1431. In 145U the sentence was reversed by Charles VII., 
 and the pope, Calixtus III., "relialjilitated lier memory." 
 Her story furnished Schiller with the siiliject of one of 
 his finest tragedies, and our English poet Southey wrote 
 a long poem on her life. In the last two centuries slie 
 has been honoured (juile as much by Englishmen as by 
 her own countrymen. The family of Joan of Arc was en- 
 nobled by Charles VI., and were allowed to take the sur- 
 name of De Lys. Montaigne (in 15S0) descriiies the coat 
 of arms granted to her family, and mentions his having 
 seen the house where Joan's father lived. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 30. Line 3: Brandish your crystal tresses in theskij — 
 Steevens quotes from " a Sonnet by Lord Sterline, 1604 : 
 
 A\*licn as those chrysial comets wliiles appear." 
 
 Also from an old song " The falling out of Lovers is the 
 renewing of Love : 
 
 You chrystal planets sliine all clear 
 
 And light a lover's way." 
 
 — V'ar. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 8. 
 
 Crisped, crested, trist/iU, have all been suggested as 
 emendations; but the passages quoted by Steevens show 
 that no alteration of the text is necessary. 
 
 31. Line 5: That have consented unto Henry's death. — 
 Compare Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning 
 Pestle, ii. 5: 
 
 Unworthy of the kindness I have shewn 
 To thee, and thine; too late, I well perceive. 
 Thou art coiiseittiiig to my daughter's loss. 
 
 — Works, vol. ii. p. 84; 
 
 where consenting to seems to have the same sense which 
 we have given it in the foot-note to this passage. In sc. 5, 
 lines 34, 35 of this act, Talbot says : 
 
 Von all consented ittito Salisbury's death, 
 For none would strike a stroke in liis revenge. 
 
 There consented vnto seems to have more than the ordi- 
 nary sense of the word, and to="were partly guilty of," 
 or "responsible for." The distinction that Douce would 
 suggest (see Douce, pp. 313, 314) between consent and 
 concent does not appear to have much bearing upon this 
 passage. There is no doulit, as regards their derivation, 
 that the two words are perfectly distinct; consent being 
 derived from the Latin consentio, and meaning, generally, 
 "to agree togethei'," in a good sense. There is no reason 
 why it should not have borne the same sense, as the 
 Latin original sometimes did, namely, "to agree to any 
 wrong," "to conspire;" but to concent is derived from 
 concinno (con-cano=" to sing together"), and never seems 
 to have any sense but a good one. Spenser employs the 
 word in one passage in The Fairy Queen, b. iv. c. ii. st. 2: 
 
 .Siu li niiisick is wise words with time coicenfci, 
 
 where it certainly seems to have its original musical 
 sense. This is the only instance of the tise of the verb, in 
 this sense, that I have been able to find. 
 
 32. Line 6: Henry the FiJ'tli, too/antous to lice lonyl—^Vl.
 
 ACT 1. Sceue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART i. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 have ' • Kiwj Henry the Fifth ," which is quite unnecessary, 
 aiul spoils the metre. :Most editors follow Pope in omit- 
 ting it. Compare line 52 below of the same scene: 
 
 Hatty tiu Fifth, thy ghost I invocate. 
 
 33. Line 2": D]) MAGIC VERSES have contriv'd higemi — 
 These were charms in rhyme, which were supposed, when 
 recited by witches, to be fatal to the person against whom 
 they were directed. To these magical verses we may 
 suppose belong the grim, rhymed incantations in iliddle- 
 tou's Witch and Shakespeare's Macbeth. .Steevens 
 quotes Reginald Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1584: 
 "The Irishmen addict themselves, &c., yea they will not 
 sticke to affinne tliat they can rime either man or beast 
 to death " (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 10). 
 
 34. Line 50: Our isle be made a NOURISH of salt tears.— 
 Pope's ingenious emendation marish (the old word for 
 marsh) has been very generally adopted; but on mature 
 consideration we have rejected it. Ritson quotes a very 
 similar e.vpression in support of tliat emendation from 
 The Spanish Tragedy: 
 
 Made mountains 7f!arsh, with spring-tides of my tears. 
 
 — Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. ii. 
 
 Steevens' note seems, however, to make it pretty certain 
 that the Folio is right: "I have been informed that what 
 we call at present a stew, in wliich fish are preserved 
 alive, was anciently called a nourish. Sonrice, however, 
 Fr. a nurse, was anciently spelt many different ways, 
 among which nourish was one. So, in Syr Eglamour of 
 Artois, bL L no date: 
 
 Of that chylde she was blyth. 
 
 After noryshes she sent belive. 
 
 A nourish therefore in this passage of our author may 
 signify a nurse, as it apparently does in The Tragedies of 
 John Bochas, by Lydgate, b. i. c. xii. : 
 
 .\thenes wlian it was in his floures 
 
 Was calle<l nourish of philosophers wise." 
 
 — Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. ii. 
 
 35. Line 50: Than Julius Ccesar or bright .—The 
 
 blank has been filled up, by various commentators, with the 
 names of Francis Drake, Berenice, Alexander, &c. Surely 
 there is no need of attempting to fill it up at all. I: is 
 much more dramatic that the speaker should be inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of the messenger. 
 
 36. Line 60: Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, ROVEN, Or- 
 leans.— ^Ve have supplied Rouen here to make the line 
 complete. It seems the more necessary because, in line 
 65 below, Gloucester asks : 
 
 Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? 
 
 The Folio simply has : 
 
 Guyen, Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance. 
 
 37. Line 62: What sai/'st thou, man! before dead flenry's 
 corse.— This line is arranged in F. 1 thus : 
 
 AVhat say'st thou man. before dead Henry's Coarse? 
 
 So F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 substantially. We have printed it in 
 the same way as Staunton, which seems much more effec- 
 tive from a dramatic point of view. 
 
 38. Line 64: Will make him burst his LEAD, and rise 
 from death.— It may be worth notii:lng that in line 19 
 Exeter says : 
 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 It would appear from this that the practice of putting 
 bodies in a leaden case within a wooden coffin existed at 
 least as early as .'Shakespeare's time. Monstrelet, in 
 describing the interment of Duke Pliilip le Bon of Bur- 
 gundy in 146", says: "The heart and body of the duke 
 were each put separately in a flat coffin, covered with a 
 bier of Irish oak" (vol. ii. chap, cxlii. p. 347). Probably 
 by bier he means what we call an outer coffin. That the 
 inner coffin was of lead we know from what the chronicler 
 says above (p. 346): " His body and bowels were each put 
 into a well-closed coffin of lead." 
 
 39. Line 76: A third MAN thinks, without expense at all. 
 — F. 1 omits man. wliieh is supplied by F. 2. Surely no 
 one with the vestige of an ear could print such a line as : 
 
 A third thinks, without expense at all. 
 
 Putting aside the fact that the halting rhythm is abso- 
 lutely excruciating, the alliteration of third and thinks 
 should be avoided, if there is any means of doing so. 
 
 40. Line 83: their flowing tides.— Tf. h&ve her; the cor- 
 rection is Theobald's. If the reading of the Ff. be re- 
 tained /if)- must refer to England; but surely their makes 
 much better sense. 
 
 41. Line SS: To iceep their isterjiissive viiseries.— 
 Warburton e.xplains this epithet thus: " i.e. their miseries, 
 which have had only a short intermission from Henry 
 the Fifth's death to my coming amongst them" (Var. Ed. 
 vol. xviii. p. 14). 
 
 42. Line 94: Reignier, Duke of A71J0H. —Ff. have Rey- 
 nold here ; but, in scene 2, F. 1 has Reigneir, and after- 
 wards in act ii. scene 1 Reignier. 
 
 43. Line 95: The Duke Alencon flieth to his side.—Vt. 
 have "The Duke of Alencon." We have omitted of in 
 order to improve the metre, as the whole of the passage 
 certainly seems to be intended for blank verse. 
 
 44. Line 96: The Daiqihin CT.ov.S'D king! AND all fly 
 to him !— Crowned has the e elided in F. 1. The line is 
 usually printed : 
 
 The Dauphin croTvned king ! all fly to him 1 
 
 in order to make the metre complete. We have retained 
 the elided form of the Ff. ; and have ventured to insert 
 and. It is, perhaps, not a matter of much importance; 
 but in speaking the line it will be seen that king is the 
 word wliich has to be most emphasised by the speaker, 
 and not crowned. In line 92 above, crowned is not elided 
 in the Folio; the two syllables being necessary to the 
 metre. 
 
 45. Lines lOS et seq.— This is one of the many liberties 
 which the author of this play takes with chronology. The 
 Battle of Patay, in which the great Talbot was taken 
 prisoner, did not occur till the seventh year of Henry 
 VL's reign, A.D. 1429. It was fought on June 18th— the 
 fact that the day of the month coincides with that on 
 which Waterloo was fought is worth noticing— and not 
 on August 10th, as Shakespeare makes it (line 101). Hall 
 (p. l.'iO) gives the following description of the battle: 
 "Wherfore, thei {i.e. the French) intendync to stop hym 
 a tyde, conueyed their company to a small village called 
 Patay, whiche way, they knewe that the Englishmen 
 
 321 21
 
 ACT I. Scuue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 1. 
 
 must nedes passe by. And first they appoynted their 
 hoistMiien, whiclie were well and richely furnished, to go 
 hefore, and sodainly to set on the Enttlishenien, or they 
 wer, either ware or set in ordre. The Knglishnien com- 
 niyng forwarde, jierceiued the horsemen, and, iniaginyng 
 to deceiue their enemies, comniaunded thi futemen to 
 iMiuirone & enflo.se tlieselfes about with their stakes, 
 but the French Iiorsmen came ou so flersly, that the 
 archers had no leyser, to set theniselfes in a raie. There 
 was no remedy but to fif,'ht at aduenture. This battaill, 
 cotinued by the space of thre long houres. And although 
 thenglislimeii wer ouerpressed, with the nonil)re of their 
 aduersaries, yet thei neuer tledde backe one foote, till 
 their capitain the lorde Talbot, was sore wounded at the 
 backe, and so taken. Then their hartes began to faint, 
 thei tied in wliiche flight, ther wer slain aboue xij C. 
 and taken, xl. wherof the lorde Talbot the lord Scales, 
 the lord Ilungerford (see below, line l-tO), and sir Tlionias 
 Ranipston, were the chief: howbeit diuersearclierswhiche 
 had shot all their arrowes, hauyng only their swerdes, 
 defended theself, and with the help of some of the hors- 
 men, c;i safe to Meu." 
 
 46. Line 128: Cried out amain, A Talbut : ho! J Talbut! 
 — Ff. have: 
 
 .-/ Talbot! a Talbot I cried out amain: 
 
 which Pope altered to: "A Talbot! Talbut! cried." Sey- 
 mour suggested: "A Talbot! cried, a Talbot." The whole 
 of tins speech is so spirited that it seems a pity to spoil 
 it by a manifestly defective line. The emendation we 
 have ventured to make seems preferable to the one quoted 
 above. 
 
 47. Lines 130-134.- The conduct of Sir John Fastolfe 
 at this battle is almost inexplicable. There can be no 
 ilnubt he was one of tlie most trusted and valiant gene- 
 rals on the English side. His name occurs constantly in 
 Hall and Holinshed; indeed, he appears to have distin- 
 guished himself both for generalship and courage on 
 many occasions. In the battle known as the Battle of 
 Herrings, which was fought in tlie year previous, 1428, 
 Sir John Fastolfe, with only 1500 English, obtained a 
 decisive victory over 10,000 of the French; and, after- 
 wards, brought a large (juantity of supplies which were 
 under his charge safely to the camp before Orleans. 
 Holinshed follows Hall's account of the Battle of Patay 
 word for word. Hall says: " Fro this battaill, departed 
 without any stroke striken, sir Hion Fastolffe, thesame 
 yere for his valiauntnes elected into the ordre of the 
 Garter. For whiche cause the Duke of Bedford, in a 
 great anger, toke from hym the Image of sainct George, 
 and his Garter, but afterward, by meane of frendes, and 
 ajiparant causes of good excuse by hym alledged, he was 
 restored to the order again, against the niynd of the 
 lorde Talbot "(p. 1.50). Monstrelet's account of the matter 
 is as follows: " Sir John Fastolfe and the bastard do Thian 
 had not dismounted, and, to save their lives, they, with 
 many other knights, set off at full gallop." Further on 
 he gives an explanation of Fastolfe's conduct more favour- 
 able to his reputation: "On the day of the battle of 
 Pataye, before the English knew that their enemies were 
 so near. Sir John Fastolfe, one of the chief captains, and 
 who lied without striking a blow, assembled a council, 
 
 32-2 
 
 when he remonstrated on the losses they had suffered 
 before Orleans, at Gcrgeau, and other places, which had 
 greatly lowered the courage of their men, and on the 
 contrary raised that of the French, and which made him 
 now advise that tliey should retire to some of their strong 
 towns in the ncighbouihood, and not think of combating 
 the enemy until their men were more reconciled to their 
 late defeats, and until the reinforcements should be sent 
 them which the regent was expecting from England. 
 This language was not very agreeable to some of the 
 captains, more especially to lord Talbot, who declared 
 that if the enemy came he would fight them." 
 
 " Sir Jolin Fastolfe was bitterly reproached by the duke 
 of Bedford for having thus fled from the battle,— and he 
 was deprived of the order of the Garter: however, in time, 
 the remonstrances he had made in council, jireviously to 
 the battle, were considered as reasonable; and this, with 
 other circumstances and excuses he made, regained him 
 the order of the Garter. Xevertheless great quarrels 
 arose between him and lord Talbot on this business, when 
 the latter was returned from his captivity" (p. 555). Fal- 
 stafT's excuse for his conduct may have been the right 
 one; but one cannot help suspecting that there may also 
 have been some feeling of jealousy on his part towards 
 Talbot; for it will be remembered that he was superseded 
 by that great general in 1427: "the lord Talbot, was 
 maile gouernor, of Aniow and Mayne, ami Sir Ihon Fas- 
 tolffe was assigned to another place" (Hall, p. 141). 
 
 48. Line 132 ; He, being in the \ AW AKD,—plac'd behind. 
 — This seems to be a contradiction in terms. He could 
 not be in the van and in the rear at the same time. Han- 
 mer proposed to alter vaward to rearward. Steevens 
 explains the apparent contradiction thus: ".Some part of 
 the van must have been behind the foremost line of it. 
 We often say tlie back front of a liouse." .Vnd Mason 
 adils: "When an army is attacked in the rear, the van 
 becomes the rear in its turn, and of course the reserve.' 
 (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 16). Clarke explains it that "Fas- 
 tolfe, being in the front line of his own troop, at the head 
 of his own division, was placed behind the main body of 
 the army " (p. 306). From the description of the battle 
 given by Shakespeare it would appear that the small body 
 of English troops were surrounded, and that the geuer.il 
 made a hasty attempt to form his archers in .sciuare sur- 
 rounded by an impromptu defence of stakes. The rest of 
 his forces imder the command of Sir John Fastolfe were 
 drawn up some little distance off in the rear of the archers 
 with orders to go to their assistance immediately they 
 commenced to attiick the enemy. If such were the ar- 
 rangement, the expression in the text is not inappro- 
 priate. 
 
 49. Line 146: And Lord Scales with him, and Lord 
 Ilungerford. — See the passage quoted from Hall above 
 (note 45). Lord Scales was Thomas, seventh Lord 
 Scales. He is one of the characters in the Second Part of 
 Henry VI., and an account of him will be given in the 
 notes on the Dramatis Persona? of that play. Lord Ilun- 
 gerford was Sir Walter Hungerford, who, according to 
 French, was present at Agincourt; but he is not men- 
 tioned in the account of that battle by Hall, Holinshed,
 
 ACT I. Sceue 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 or Monstrelet. Holinslieil and Hall both mention that 
 he was made Lieutenant of Chierburgh (Cherbourg) in 
 place of Lord Grey of Codnor in 1418. " He was Steward 
 of the Household in the beginning of the reign of Henry 
 VI., and afterwards Treasurer" (French, p. 163). 
 
 50. Line 159 : The Earl of SalUhury CRAVES A snpplij. 
 — Kf. have : 
 
 The Earl of Salisbury craz'eth supply, 
 
 a very awkward line. If Salisbury were pronounced as a 
 quadrisyllable, then we might read simply: 
 The Earl of Siih'sbiiry o'lxves supply. 
 
 But I cannot find any satisfactory instance of the use of 
 this name by Shakespeare other than as a trisyllable. I 
 have therefore ventured to make the emendation printed 
 in the te.xt, which avoids the unrhythmical line given 
 in Ff. 
 
 51. Line 171 : Being ordain'd Ids special governor. — 
 According to Hall the Duke of Exeter and Cardinal 
 Beaufort were joint guardians of the young king : " And 
 the custody of this young prince was apoyncted to Thomas 
 duke of Exeester, and to Henry Beaufford bishopp of 
 Wynchester" (p. 115). 
 
 52. Line 174: for me no thing remains.— Fl. read 
 nothing. On account of the accent being required on 
 thing, we have separated the two words. Compare note 
 1:3(3, King John. 
 
 53. Line 176: The Icing from FAtham I intend to STEAL. 
 — Ff. read send. The emendation is Mason's conjecture, 
 and is re(iuired both by the sense and by the verse, a 
 rhymed couplet being doubtless intended to end the 
 scene. The objection that the king was under the guar- 
 dianship of the Duke of Exeter, and not of the speaker, 
 the Cardinal (Beaufort), seems not of much force (see 
 above, note 51). The second Article of Accusation 
 brought by the Duke of Gloucester ran as follows: "Item 
 my said lorde of Winchester, without the aduise and 
 assent of my said lorde of Gloucester, or of the kynges 
 counsail, purposed and disposed hym to set hande on the 
 kynges persone, and to haue remoued hym from Eltham, 
 the place that he was in to Windsore, to the entent to 
 put him in suche gouernaunce as him list " (Hall, p. 131). 
 It is doubtless this alleged abduction of the king that 
 Beaufort is here supposed to contemplate, and to such 
 an act the word steal is more appropriate than send. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 54. Lines 1, 2: 
 
 Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens 
 So in the earth, to this day is not known. 
 Steevens quotes from one of Nash's prefaces "before 
 Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is Up, 159C: ' You are as ignorant 
 in the true niooings of my muse, as the astronomers are 
 in the true movings of Mars, which to this day they could 
 never attain to'" (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 18). The motions 
 of Mars were irregular and difficult to explain— at least 
 to the old astronomers— owing to the eccentricity of his 
 orbit. Kepler'swork on Mars(Comnient. de MotibusStellse 
 -Martisi) was published first in 1C09. For instances of this 
 
 1 To be found in vol. iii. of Frisch's edn. of Kepler's Works, Frank- 
 fort, 1858-70. 
 
 form of the genitive Mars his = Mars's, see in this play, 
 iii. 2. 123, "C/iar?cs /(IS gleeks;"and again iv. 6.3: "France 
 his sword. " In the well-known passage in Hamlet, ii. 2. 512, 
 in the Player's speech the Ff. have : 
 
 On Mars his armour forg'd for proof eterne, 
 
 which is much more grand, and suited to the majestic 
 measure of the passage, than the commoner form Mars's. 
 
 55. Line 7: Otherwhiles. — Capell altered to The whiles; 
 but unnecessarily. The word certainly does not occur 
 elsewhere in Shakespeare; neither does he use the whiles, 
 but the whilst or the while. Perhaps the JIS. had 0' the 
 whiles. Tlie sense is better suited by The tvhilst; but we 
 hesitate to erase from the text a word so characteristic. 
 
 56. Line 13: ^vh)/ lie ire idhj here?— Ft. have live. We 
 have adopted Walker's conjecture, which is supported by 
 line 6 above : 
 
 At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans. 
 
 57. Line 19 : the forlorn French. — For the accent on 
 forlorn see Two Gent, of Verona, i. 2. 124 : 
 
 Voax forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, 
 
 and V. 4. 12 of same play: 
 
 Thou gentle nymph cherish \.\\y forlorn swain. 
 
 It is doubtful whether forlorn really cah bear the first 
 meaning given in our foot-note, which is the one assigned 
 to it by Staunton and Clarke; or whether for is anything 
 more than the inteiisitive prefix. Forlorn is used as 
 = "lost," " miserable ;" it may refer here either to those 
 who had been killed in the siege, or to those shut up in 
 the besieged town. 
 
 58. Line 25: That Salisbury's a desperate homicide.— 
 Ff. liave : 
 
 Salisbury is a desperate homicide. 
 
 We have ventured to make a less halting line of it. Nor 
 shall we scruple in trying to amend the many imperfect 
 and unmetrical lines which disfigure this play ; because 
 we feel that we can scarcely l)e interfering with what was 
 the outcome of Shakespeare's deliberate judgment, but 
 that we are merely trying to repair blemishes which he 
 carelessly passed over. 
 
 59. Line 30: bred.—Fi. have breed; the correction is 
 Howe's. 
 
 60. Line 41 : (//(/ujirt/s.— .Tohnsou says: "A gimmal is a 
 piece of jointed work, where one piece moves within an- 
 other, whence it is taken at large for an engine. It is 
 now by the vulgar called a gimcrack " (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. 
 p. 20). But surely the connection between gimmal and 
 gimcrack is quite fanciful. Gimbal, gimbol (the modern 
 form of the same word) is thus explained in Annan- 
 dale's edition of Ogilvie's Imperial Dictionary : " [L. ge- 
 inellus, twin, paired, double, from geminns, twin.] A 
 contrivance, as a ring moving on horizontal pivots, for 
 securing free motion in suspension, or for suspending 
 anything, as a chronometer, so that it may keep a con- 
 stant position or remain in equilibrium. The term is 
 most commonly applied to two movable hoops or rings, 
 the one moving within the other, and each perpendicularly 
 to its plane, about two axes, at right angles to each other." 
 A gimmal-bit is the double bit, the play of which in the 
 
 .323
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 horse's mouth is obtained by weans of double rings. 
 Shakespeare uses the word in Ileury V. (iv. 2. 49, 50): 
 
 And in their pale dull mouths the £-i»imai bit 
 Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless. 
 
 Steevens quotes "The Vow-breaker, or The Faire Maide 
 
 of Clifton, 1C36: 
 
 My actes are like the molionaU iy»i»in!s 
 
 Fixt in a watch." 
 
 — \'ar. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 21. 
 
 May not gimnials mean tliose wheels in the mechanism 
 of a watch or clock, which we call cog-wheels? 
 
 61. Line 48: cheer.— For a similar use by Shakespeare 
 of this word = countenance, compare Midsummer's Xiglifs 
 Dream, iii. 2. 96: 
 
 All fancy sick she is and pale oicheer. 
 And Titus Andronicus, i. 1. 2G4 : 
 
 Tliough chance of war hath wrought this change o{ clieer. 
 
 62. Line 56: <Ae NINE sifti/fs.— There were ?ii)je sibylHne 
 books, as is well known ; but the number of the sibyls 
 has been variously given as three, four, seven, and even 
 ten. In a note on The Hog Hath Lost His Pearl, act ii., 
 Steevens says: "Of tlie Seven Worthies, the Ten Sibyls, 
 and the Twelve CoDsars, I have seen many complete 
 sets in old halls and on old staircases" (Dodsley, vol. xi. 
 p. 447). 
 
 63. Lines 65-70.— The incident of Joan of Arc recognis- 
 ing Cliarles, who was unknown to her by siglit, in spite 
 of liis attempting to pass olf one of tlie lords about him 
 as the Dauphin, is founded on the account given iu the 
 second and enlarged edition of Holinslied (15S6-7): "Vnto 
 the Dolphin into his gallerie when first she was brought, 
 and he shadowing himselfe behind, setting otiier gaie lords 
 before liim to trie hir cunning from all the companie, 
 with a salutation (that indeed marz all the matter) she 
 pickt him out alone, who therevpon had hir to tlie end 
 of the gallerie, where she held him an houre in secret 
 and priuate talke, tliat of his pruie chamber was thought 
 verie long, and therefere would haue broken it off ; but 
 he made them a sign to let liir saie on " (vol. iii. pp. 103, 
 1G4). Hall only says: "Wliat should I reherse, how they 
 saie, she knewe and called hym her kyng, wliom she neuer 
 saw before " (p. 14S). 
 
 64. Line 72: Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's 
 daughter. — This is inconsistent with what Joan says 
 afterwards (v. 4. 8, 9; 21, 22; 36-38) where she disowns 
 her father and claims to be of noble birth. Hall says she 
 was "a cbamberleyn in a conimen hostery" (p. 148); btit 
 says nothing about her fatlier; while Holiushed says 
 (p. 1C3) her father w.is "a sorie sheepheard;" and that 
 she herself was "brought vp jjoorelie in their trade of 
 keeping cattell." 
 
 65. Line 83: In complete glory.— Tot the accent com- 
 pare Hamlet, i. 4. 52 : 
 
 That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel. 
 
 66. Lines 84-86. — Tliis apparently contradictory descrip- 
 tion of herself by Joan may have been suggested by tlie 
 fact that while Hall speaks of "her foule face, that no one 
 would desire it" (p. 148), Holinshed says: " of fauour was 
 she counted likesome " (p. 163). 
 
 324 
 
 67. Line 91: Jiesolce on this,~thou shall he fortunate. — 
 Sclimidt explains resolve in a different sense to that given 
 in our foot-note. According to him it means: "come to 
 a resolution on this supposition, tliat thou shalt be 
 fortunate, etc." We find resolved used="sure," "con- 
 vinced" in in. Henry \1. ii. 2. 124, 125: 
 
 I am rc.<:olz'd 
 That ClilTord's manhood lies upon his tongue. 
 
 68. Line 99: TJfcfc'ritpjf/i five /oj/er-de-Juces.—Ff. have 
 fine. Steevens made the obvious correction. Holinshed's 
 words are: "that with fine Jloure delices was grauen on 
 both sides " (vol. iii. p. 103). 
 
 69. Line 101: Out of a deal old iron I chose forth.— ¥{. 
 have "out of a great deal of old iron," making a most 
 honildy unrhythmical line, which, one would think, no 
 editor would care to print. We have followed Dyce. 
 Steevens printed "Out of a deal of;" but, in his note, 
 proposed "Out a deal of." The only objection to the 
 reading of Dyce is that there is no other instance in Shake- 
 speare of deal used = deal of. Here, again, it is evident 
 the writer of this play followed Holinshed: "from saint 
 Katharins church of Fierbois in Touraine (where she 
 neuer had beene and knew not) in a secret place there 
 among old iron, appointed she hir sword to be sought out 
 and brought hir "(p. 163). 
 
 70. Line 102 : 
 
 Then come ON, 0' God's name; I fear no ivonian. 
 I had inserted the on (which is necessary to the metre, 
 and which might easily have been overlooked by the 
 transcriber, coining before the 0), before I saw that 
 Keightley had made the same emendation. 
 
 71. Line 131: Bapect SAINT MARTIN'S SUMMER, halovon 
 (ff()y,s\ —Saint Jfartin's day is the lUh of November; and 
 the brief period of fine weather, like a cold reflection of 
 summer, which frequently occurs about that time of the 
 year, was called Saint ^Martin's summer. Joan means to 
 say that after the winter of misfortune will come the 
 summer of success. Halcyon is the old name of the king- 
 fisher, during the period of whose incubation the sea 
 was supposed to remain "smooth and calm, that the 
 mariner might venture on the sea with the happy cer- 
 tainty of not being exposed to storms or tempests; this 
 period was therefore called, by Pliny and Aristotle, ' the 
 halcyon days'" (Harting's Ornithology of Shakespeare, 
 p. 27;')). The kingfisher does not build by the sea but by 
 the banks of streams. 
 
 In Holland's Pliny (edn. 1601) bk. x. chap, xxxii. p. 287, 
 we find the following: " They lay and sit about midwinter 
 when daies be shortest: and the time whiles they are 
 broodie is called the Halcyon daie-f, for during that 
 season the sea is calme and navigable especially on the 
 coast of Sicilies" . . . " Now about seven daies before 
 mid-winter, that is to say, in the beginning of Decenrjer 
 they buibl ami within as many daies after, they have 
 hatched." Pliny says there are two kinds, one of which 
 haunts rivers. 
 
 72. Lines 138, 139: 
 
 Sow am 1 like that jrroud insulting ship 
 Which Cresar and his fortune bare at once.
 
 ACT I. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Sceue 3. 
 
 This alludes to the well-known story told by Plutarch in 
 the life of Julius Cresar. The incident is thus narrated 
 iu North's Plutarch: " Caesar hearing that, straight dis- 
 covered hiniselfe unto the maister of the pynnace, who 
 at the first was amazed when he saw him; but Csesar, &c., 
 said unto him, Good fellow, be of good cheere, &c., and 
 fear not, for thou hast Ccesarand his fortune with thee" 
 (Var. Ed. vol. .xviii. p. 27). Shakespeare uses insult in the 
 sense of to exalt, to triumph, in many passages, though 
 in some of them it certainly has the implied sense of in- 
 solence. In Heywood's Captives, iii. 3: 
 
 Howe the slave 
 Insults in liis damnation. 
 
 — BuUeu's Old Plays, vol. iv. p. 167. 
 
 it clearly has the sense of exult. 
 
 73. Line 140: 
 
 Was Mahomet ins2)ired with a dove? 
 Scot in his Discovery of Witchcraft (book xii. chap, .xv.) 
 gives tlie following description of this sacred bird, "ila- 
 honiet's pigeon, which would resort unto him, being in 
 the middest of his campe, and picke a pease out of his 
 eare ; iu such sort that many of the people thought that 
 the holy ghost came and told him a tale in his eare : the 
 same pigeon also brought him a scroll wherein was written, 
 Jtcx esto, and laid the same in his neck." (Discovery of 
 Witchcraft, 165-1, p. 182.) 
 
 74. Line 142 : Helen, the mother of (jrcat Constantine. 
 — This was St. Helena, the first wife of Constantius 
 Chlorus, and mother of Constantine the Great. Little is 
 known of her origin except that she was not of high birth. 
 In A.D. 292 according to some, according to others 296, 
 Constantius divorced her at the bidding of Diocletian, in 
 order to m.ariy Theodora. Some of the historians say she 
 was not married to him ; but if so, she could not be 
 di\(irced from him. One legend makes her the daughter 
 of King Coel of Colchester and a native of Britain. When 
 she was 64 years old she is said to have discovered, buried 
 on Mount Calvary, the true cross on which our Lord was 
 crucified. She died about the age of 80. 
 
 75. Line 143: Saint Philip's daughters.— See Acts of the 
 Apostles, xxi. 9: "And the same man" (Philip, the Evan- 
 gelist, one of the seven) "h&d four daughters, virgins, 
 which did prophesy. " 
 
 76. Line 145: How may I reverent worship thee 
 enough?— ^Ff. have revei'entlg. The very obvious correc- 
 tion which we have made is the same as that given in 
 Collier's MS. 
 
 77. Line 148: Drive them from Orleans, be immortal- 
 iz'd. — Ff. have 
 
 Drive tlieni from Orleans, and he inunortaliz'd. 
 
 The and here makes a most inharmonious line, so we 
 have ventured to omit it. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 3. 
 
 78. Line 1 : / am come to survey the Tower this day. — 
 This is a iiad line, and can only be made to scan by 
 accentuating to. The verse is very poor throughout this 
 scene, part of which might just as well be in prose. Of 
 the quarrel between Gloucester and the Cardinal, and of 
 
 the incident on which tliis scene is founded. Hall gives the 
 following account : " In this season fell a greate diuision 
 in the realme of England, which, of a sparcle was like to 
 growe to a greate flame. For whether tlie bishop of 
 Winchester . . . enuied the authoritee of Humfrey 
 duke of Gloucester Protector of the realme, or whether 
 the duke had taken disdain at the riches and pompous 
 estate of the bishop, sure it is that the whole realm was 
 troubled with tliem and their partakers: so that the 
 citezens of London fearyng that that should insue vpon 
 the matter, wer faine to kepe daily and nightly, watches, 
 as though their enemies were at hande, to besiege and 
 destroie them : In so muche that all the shoppes within 
 the citie of London wer shut in for feare of the fauorers 
 of those two greate personages, for eche parte had as- 
 sembled no small nombre of people " (p. 130). The first 
 article of accusation brought by Gloucester against tlie 
 Cardinal according to Hall ran thus : " First, where as he 
 beyng protector and defeudor of this lande, desired tlie 
 toure to be opened to him, and to lodge him therein, 
 Pilchard Woodeuile esquire, hauyng at that tyme the 
 charge of the kepyug of the toure, refused his desire, and 
 kepte the same toure against hym, vnduly and against 
 reason, by the commaundement of my saied Lord of A¥in- 
 chester: and afterward in approuyng of thesaid refuse, 
 he receiued thesaid Wodeuile, and cherished hym against 
 the state and worship of the kyng, and of my saied lorde 
 of Gloucester" (p. 130). 
 
 79. Line 2: conveyance.— -Comptive Pistol's well-known 
 speech : " ' Convey ' the wise it call. ' Steal ! ' fob ! a fico 
 for the phrase " (Merry Wives, i. 2. 31, 32). 
 
 80. Line 4: Open the gates; 'tis Glostcr that calls. — The 
 Var. Ed. prints without any comment: 
 
 Open the gates GlosUr it is that calls. 
 
 It appears that this emendation, which makes the line 
 metrically correct, was Reed's. But we have not adopted 
 it, because it seems evident that, both here and in line 6, 
 Gloster is to be pronounced Glo-ces-ter as a trisyllable ; 
 while it is equally manifest that in line 17 it is, as usual, 
 a dissyllable. We have not altered the spelling of the 
 word, which is that of F. 1, and is never varied throughout 
 the play. 
 
 81. Line 13: Break up the gates.— To break up = " to 
 break open " was a common form of expression in Shake- 
 speare's time. It occurs in more than one passage of the 
 Bible {e. g. Matthew xxiv. 43); and, in relating the 
 doings of the Kentish rebels under Jack Cade, Hall says 
 (p. 222): "After this abstinence of warre agreed, the lusty 
 Kentishe Capitayne, hopyng on more frendes, brake vp 
 the gayles of the kinges benche and Marshalsea, and set 
 at libertie, a swarme of galates, both mete for his seruice 
 and apte for his enterprise." For a different use of the 
 same phrase see Love's Labour 's Lost, note 85. 
 
 82. Line 28: We'll burst them open, if you come not 
 quickly. — Ff. have : 
 
 Or we'll burst them open, \i that you come not quickly. 
 
 Pope omits Or and that in order to make a verse. We 
 have adopted his alteration ; though it is possible the 
 speech may have been intended for prose. 
 325
 
 ACT 1. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY YL— PART I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 83. Line 30: PKEL'D ;;)(cx/.— This verb to peel is used 
 with several iliffereiit ineaniiigs, owing to three distinct 
 verbs liaving been mixed up as the sources of its deriva- 
 tion. In its ordinary sense of "to strip off the skin or 
 bark" it is derived from the French peler; while in the 
 sense of " to pillage " it is derived from the French piller. 
 Again, in the sense in which it is here used, "to deprive 
 of hair," " to make bald," it would seem to be connected 
 witli tlie Latin pilare. In Merchant of Venice, i. 3. S5, 
 the reading of the quarto is 2>vi'd, and of F. 1 piVd; the 
 line being printed iu most modern editions: 
 
 The skilful shepherd /<f/V me certain wands. 
 
 But we may hold that the verb to pill used by Shake- 
 speare in Kichard II. ii. 1. 246; in Richard III. i. 3. 159; 
 and Tinion of Athens, iv. 1. 12 is a perfectly distinct word 
 from to peel, and is really au abbreviated form of " to 
 pillage." But in Measure for Measure, i. 2. 35, we have 
 piled, used in a double sense, as if it was equivalent to 
 peeled, in the same sense as tliat in which it is used here, 
 and piled as commonly applied to velvet ; the latter word 
 being derived fnjm the Latin pilus, hair= covered with 
 hair. 
 
 84. Line 35.— This line refei's to the fact that the public 
 brothels were situated within the Jurisdiction of the 
 Bishop of Winchester. X'pton records the existence of 
 au old manuscript "in which are mentioned the several 
 fees arising from the brothel-liouses allowed to be kept in 
 the bisliop's manor, with tlie customs and regulations of 
 them ' (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 31). 
 
 85. Line 30: I'll CANVASS thee in tJni broad canUnaVti 
 hat. — The sense of canvass has been variously given as 
 "to toss iu a blanket," or rather we should say "in a 
 sheet," and "to sliake as in a sieve." The latter meaning 
 Seems the most probable one. Rolfe quotes from tlie 
 Edin. Rev. for Oct. 1872, "canvass was a name for a net 
 used to snare wild hawks ; and heuce the verb came to 
 mean to entrap, ensnare, catch in a net. The writer 
 tliinks that to be the meaning here, and that it was 
 suggested by the netlike meshes of the strings attached 
 to the cardinal's hat." 
 
 86. Lines 39, 40 : 
 
 This be Damascus, be thou, cursed Cain, 
 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou ivilt. 
 It was an old legend that the scene of the murder of 
 Abel by Cain was on a mountain near Damascus. Sir 
 John Maundeville says (cap. xi. p. 123) in his account of 
 Damascus: "And iu that place, where Damasc was 
 founded, Kaym sloughe Abel his brother." 
 
 87. Line 47: Blue coatu to tawny. — Priest beware your 
 beard. — Ff. have: "Blue coats to tawny coats." Pope 
 omitted the second coatu, which destroys the metre. It 
 appears tliat tawny was the colour worn by officers of the 
 ecclesiastical courts. Steevens (piotes a passage from 
 Sti.we's Clironides, p. 822: "—and by the way the bishop 
 of London met him, attended on by a goodly company of 
 gentlemen in tawny-i^inxU" (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 30). 
 
 88. Line 53: Winchester goose! / cry. a rope! a 
 rope!— Johnson says: " A strumpet, or the conse(iuences 
 
 32(3 
 
 of her love, was a Winchester goose " (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. 
 p. 33). But there is no evidence of the word having ever 
 borne the first meaning. It was properly applied to a 
 swelling in the groin, the result of disease. For a rvpe ! 
 a rope .' a cry commonly taught to parrots, see Comedy 
 of Errors, note 118. 
 
 89. Line 62: Here's Gloster, TOO, a /«<■ to citizens.— V. 1 
 omits too; in which case Gloster must be pronounced as 
 a trisyllable. 
 
 90. Line 72 : Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou camt. — 
 Ff. have : "as e'ere thou canst, cry:" the cry is probably 
 a stage-direction which has crept into the text. 
 
 91. Line 81: Cluster, we'll meet; to thy PEAK cost, be 
 sure.^V. 1 omits dear, whicli was added in F. 2. 
 
 ACT I. SCKXK 4. 
 
 92. — 'The main incidents of this scene are founded on the 
 following passage in Hall (copied almost word for word 
 by llolinshed): "In tlie toure tliat was taken at the 
 bridge ende, as you before liaue heard, tliere was a high 
 chamber hauyng a grate full of banes of yron by the 
 whiclie a man might loke all the length of tlie bridge into 
 the cite at which, grate many of the chief capitaines 
 stode diuerse times, vieuyng the cite and deuisyng in 
 what place it was best assautable. They within the citee 
 perceiued well this totyng hole, and laied a pece of or- 
 dyiiaunce directly against the wyndowe. It so chaunced 
 that the. lix. dale after the siege laied before the citee. 
 therle of Salisl)ury, sir Thomas Gargraue and William 
 Glasdale and diueise other, went into thesaid toure and 
 so into the high cbfilire, and loked out at the grate, and 
 with in a short space, the sonne of the JIaster gonner, 
 perceiued men lokyng out at the wyndowe, toke his 
 matche, as his fatlier had taught hym, whiche was gone 
 to dinner, and fired the gonne, which brake and sheuered 
 ye yron barres of the grate, wlierof one strake therle so 
 strogly on the bed, that it stroke away one of his iyes 
 and the side of his cheke " (p. 145). 
 
 93. Line 8: The prince's 'spials have informed ine. — Ti. 
 have espials, wliich makes a very awkward line ; the 
 slight emendation is Pope's. Shakespeare uses espial 
 in two passages, in iv. 3. 6, of this play : 
 
 By your espials were discovered : 
 
 and in Hamlet, iii. 1. 32: 
 
 Her father, and myself, lawful espials. 
 
 But the form spial, without any mark of elision, is a re- 
 cognized form of the word, e.g. "he perceived .... 
 that he had many spials upon him " (North's Plutarch, 
 p. 110). 
 
 94. Lines 16-18 : 
 
 And even for these three days have I watch'd. 
 If I could see them. 
 
 yorv do thou watch, for I can stay no longer. 
 This passage is generally held to be corrupt. In F. 1 it 
 stands thus: 
 
 And euen these three <l.iyes liaue I watcht, 
 If I could see them. Now doe thou watch, 
 For I can stay no longer.
 
 ACT I. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 F. 2 einleavonred to amend it thus : 
 
 And fully even these three dayes have I watclit, 
 If I could see them. Now Boy doe thou watch, 
 For I can stay no longer. 
 
 For the arraugeineiit in the text I am responsible ; the 
 only word inserted being for, in line IG. In any arrange- 
 ment attempted, one of the lines must needs be im- 
 perfect. 
 
 95. Line 27: The DUKE of Bedford. — Vi. have: 
 Earle of Bedford ;" corrected by Tlieobald. 
 
 'The 
 
 96. Line 28: Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles. 
 — Ff. have call'd as in the next line they liave ramom'd. 
 As has been said before we generally adhere strictly to 
 the elision of words ending in ed, as given in F. 1 ; but, in 
 these two instances— or, at any rate, in the latter one— 
 tlie retention of the eliiled e seems necessary. 
 
 Of Lord Ponton de Santrailles frequent mention is made 
 by Hall as among the bravest of the French captains. 
 The name is very variously spelt by Hulinshed. Hall 
 says: "Emogest the capitaines was found prisoner, the 
 Vidiaunt capitain, called Poynton of Sanctrayles, (which 
 without delay.) was exchaunged for the lorde Talbot, 
 before taken prisoner, at the battaill of Patay " (p. 164). 
 
 97. Line 33 : so xiLE-esteem'd. — Ff. have pil'd esteem'd, 
 an evident mistake for vild- esteem'd; vild being the 
 s, elling of vile frequently adopted by writers in Shake- 
 speare's time. The emendation vilde-esteem'd was first 
 made by Pope. There is no reason for maintaining the 
 obsolete spelling of vile. Shakespeare uses vile-esteem'd 
 in Sonnet cxxi. 1: 
 
 'T is better to be vile than TjiU-estcetn' d. 
 
 98. Line 60 : Here, through this SECRET grate. — Ff. omit 
 secret, which is Dyee's admirable conjecture ; we do not 
 hesitate to adopt it as completing the metre, and also as 
 being in accordance with line 10 above : 
 
 Wont through a secret grate of iron bars. 
 
 The line as given in F. 2 : 
 
 Here through this grate I can count ererj' one, 
 
 is, as Dyce points out, a very weak attempt at emenda- 
 tion. 
 
 99. Line 95: Plantaoeset, I will; and, Nero-LIKE.— 
 Salisbury was a Montague, or Montacute, not a Planta- 
 genet. (See above note 9.) In F. 1 the line is printed thus: 
 
 Plantagcnet I will, and like thee. 
 
 F. 2 has : "and Nero-like will," which we adopt, omitting 
 ivill, as Dyce does, with whom we agree that this is pre- 
 ferable to JLilone's reading: "and like thee, Nero." 
 
 100. Line 107: Pucelle or wzzel, Doi.Pum or dogfish.— 
 Pxizzel, pusle, or pusill, meant "a filthy drab." from 
 Italian puzzolente. See Stubbes's Anatomy of Abuses 
 (New Shak. Soc. Publications, Series VI. No. 4, p. 78): 
 "Antl in the Sommertime, whilst floures be greene and 
 fragrant, yee shall not haue any Gentlewoman almost, 
 no nor yet any droye or jmssle in the Cuntrey, but they 
 will carye in their hands nosegayes and posies of floures 
 to smell at." Drnye means a drudge. Dauphin is invari- 
 ably spelt Dolphin in F. 1 ; hence tlie play on the word. 
 
 ACT I. Scene 5. 
 
 101. Line G: Blood will 1 draiv on thee,— thou art a 
 witch.— The superstition that anyone who could draw the 
 witch's blood was free from her power is mentioned in 
 George Giffard's Dialogue concerning Witches, first pub- 
 lished in 159:i. (Percy Society's Reprint of edn. 1603, 
 pp. 11, 13, 32 ) Compare Butler's Hudibras: 
 
 Till draiuiiig blood o' the dames tike ■witches 
 They're forthwith cur'd of their capriches. 
 
 See, on this subject, Notes and Queries, 7th Series, vol. i. 
 No. 2, p. 23 (January 9, 1886). 
 
 102. Line 16: hunger-starved.— Fl. have hungry-starved. 
 The correction is Rowe's. Vk'e have the same word in 
 III. Henry VI. i. 4. 5. Boswell's suggestion that hungry, 
 starved may be the right reading is worth consideration ; 
 though Rowe's emendation is much the more forcible 
 expression. The original sense of "to starve "is either 
 to die (intransitive), or to kill (transitive); so that hunger- 
 starved may mean "killed by hunger." 
 
 103. Line 21 : A ivitch, tjy fear, not force, like Hannibal. 
 — Alluding to the stratagem piactised by Hanniljal when 
 he found himself surrounded by the army of Fabius near 
 Casinum. whidi is thus narrated by Plutarch: "So the 
 army of the Carthaginians was in manner compassed in 
 every way, and they must needs have died for famine in 
 that place, or else have fled, to their great shame and 
 dishonour : had not Hannibal by this Stratagem prevented 
 the danger. Who knowing the danger all his army stood 
 in, and having spied a fit time for it : he commanded his 
 souldiers to bring forth two thousand Oxen which they had 
 gotten in spoil in the Fields, having great store of them, 
 and tlien tying Torches of Fire-links unto their horns, he 
 appointed the nimblest men he had to light them, and to 
 drive the Oxen up the Hill to the top of the Mountains, 
 at the relief of the first Watch. All this was duly exe- 
 cuted according to his commandment, and the Oxen run- 
 ning up to the top of the Mountains, with the Torches 
 burning, the whole Army marched after them fair and 
 softly. Now the Romans tliat Iiad long before placed a 
 strong Garison upon the Jlountains, they were afraid of 
 this strange sight, and mistrusting some Ambush, they 
 forthwith forsook their Pieces and Holds" (North's Plu- 
 tarch, edn. 1676, p. 884). 
 
 104. Line 29: Bejwunce your STYLE, give sheep in lions' 
 stead.— ¥f. read: "Renounce your soil;" but surely the 
 word soil is entirely out of place, both in relation to the 
 immediate context and to the whole passage. We do 
 not hesitate to adopt style, one of the suggestions offered, 
 but not adopted by Dyce in his note on this line. Above 
 (line 25) Talbot says : 
 
 They call'd us, for our fierceness, Eiiglisli dof:s; 
 
 and it may be to that style, or "title " that he here refers; 
 or merely to the general reputation of the English for 
 fierceness and bravery ; or even to the fact that the lion, 
 the characteristic badge of England, had come to be as- 
 sociated with English soldiers, and, espec ially, with an 
 English king. Compare Richard II. i. 1. 174, where King 
 Richard speaks to Mowbra.v, Duke of Norfolk, whose 
 badge was a leopard : "lions make leopards tame." For 
 
 327
 
 ACT 1. Sceue 0. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 1. 
 
 tlie use of style, in the sense of title ov titles, see below, 
 iv. 7. 7-2-7i: 
 
 Here is a silly stately s/y/e indeed ! 
 
 The Turk, tliat two and fifty kiiiudoiiis halli. 
 
 Writes not so tedious a sty/e as this. 
 
 Dyce's other suggestion is scroll; but that does not come 
 so near in letters to soyle, the reading of F. 1. 
 
 105. Line 34.— See above note 31. 
 
 ACT I. SCKXE 6. 
 
 106. Line 2: Jlescu'd is Orleans from the English.— 
 F. 2 added wolves, nnnet-cssarily, as EncjUsh is liere a tri- 
 syllable. The account of the raising of the siege of Or- 
 leans, which took place in the year before the battle of 
 Patay, is thus given by Hall : " Then the erle of SulFolke, 
 tlie Lorde Talbot, the Lordc Scales, and other capitaines, 
 assL-inbled together, where causes wer shewed, that it 
 was bothe necessary and couueniente either to leue the 
 siege for euer, or to deferre it till another tynie, more 
 luckey and conuenieut. And to the intent that thei 
 should not seme either to Hie or to be driuen from the 
 siege by their enemies, they determined to leaue their 
 fortresses and Bastyles, and to assemble in the plain 
 feld and there to aliyde all the dale, abidyng the out- 
 comniing and battaile of their enemies. This conclusion 
 taken, wasaccordynglyexecuteil. TheFrenchemen. weried 
 with the last bickeryng, held in their heddes and durste 
 not once appere: and so thei set tire in tlieir lodgynges, 
 and departed in good ordre of battail from Orleaunce" 
 (p. 149). 
 
 107. Line (5: Adonis' r/ardens. —Tliny alludes to the 
 gardens of Adonis and -Alciuoiis in liis Natural History 
 (book xix. chap. 4); and Spenser in The Fairy Queen, 
 bk. iii. c. 6, stanzas 29-42, gives a long descriiJtion of 
 them. Rolfe says: "Thegni-dens of Adonis mentiontid by 
 tlie earlier chvssical writers were notliing but pots of 
 earth planted with fennel and lettuce, which were borne 
 by Women on the feast of Adonis in memory of the let- 
 tuce bed in which he was laid by Venus" (p. 146). 
 
 108 Lines 11-14. — These lines were suggested, no doubt, 
 by the following passage from Hall (p. 149): "After this 
 siege thus broken vp to tell you, what trlumplies wer 
 made in the citee of Orleaunce, what wood was sjiente in 
 tiers, what wyne was dronke in houses, what songes wer 
 song in the stretes, what melody was made in Tauernes, 
 ■>vhat roundes were daunced, in large and brode places, 
 what lightes were set vp in the churches, what anthemes 
 wer song in Chapelles, ami what ioye was shewed in 
 euery place, it were a long woorke, and yet no necessary 
 cause, i'or they did as we in like case would have dooen, 
 and we being in like estate would haue doen as they did." 
 
 109. Line 22: Than Rhodope's of Memphis ever ivas.— 
 F. 1 (followed substantially by the other Ff.) has: 
 
 T/ieit Rhodope's or Memphis ever was, 
 
 which, as Dyce remarks, is simply nonsense. The neces- 
 sary emendation is Capell's conjecture. Pliny in his 
 Natural History (book .\xxvi. chap. 12) thus speaks of tliis 
 pyramid: "That no man should need to marveile any 
 328 
 
 more of these huge workes that kings have built, let him 
 know tlius much, that one of them, the least (I must 
 Jieeds say) but the fairest and most connnended for worku- 
 manship, was built at the cost and cliarges of one llhudope, 
 a verie strumpet. Tliis lihodope was a bondslave togither 
 with .Esope a Philosopher in his kind, and writer of 
 morall fables, with whome shee served under one master 
 in the same house : the greater woonder it is therefore 
 and more miraculous than all I have said before, that 
 ever shee should be able to get such wealth by playing 
 the harlot. " She was called Rliodope (J PohiiTii), i.e. "rosy- 
 cheeked ; " though Sappho speaks of her as Doricha, which 
 may have been her real name. Chaiaxus, the brotlicr of 
 Sappho, fell in love witli her, and ransomed her from 
 slavery for a large sum of money. She appears to liave 
 lived principally at Naucratis, in Egypt. Dr. Smith in 
 his Classical Dictionary mentions a conjecture that she 
 may have been confounded with Nitocris the beautiful 
 Egyptian tiueen, who is said by the ancient chroniclers 
 to have built the tliird pyramid. 
 
 110. Line 25: the rich-jeweVd coffer of Dariits. — Tliis is 
 the coffer mentioned liy Plutarch in his life of Alexander 
 the Great (p. 5(J9): "There was brought unto him a little 
 Coffer also, whicli was thought to be the preciousest 
 thing, and the richest that was gotten of all Spoyls and 
 Riches, taken at the overthrow of Darius. When he saw 
 it, he asked his familiar.^ that were about him, what they 
 thought fittest, and the l)est thing to be put into it. Some 
 said one thing, some said another thing: but he said, he 
 would put the Iliads of Homer into it, as the worthiest 
 thing." Puttenliam in his Art of English Poesie (edn. 
 1589), in speaking of this coffer uses almost the identical 
 expression in the text: "In what price the noble poems 
 of Homer were holden with Alexander the Great, inso- 
 much as everie niglit they were layd under his pillow, 
 and by day were carried in the rich jewel cofer of Darius, 
 lately before vanquished liy him in battaile." 
 
 ACT TI. SCKNE 1. 
 
 111. Line 29: Xot all together. —Fi. altogether, cor- 
 rected by Rowe. 
 
 112. Line 58.— I.mprovident soZdtcrs.'— Shakespeare 
 only uses itnprovident in one other passa,;;e, in Merry 
 Wives, ii. 2. 302 : " Wlio says this is improvident jeal- 
 ousy?" Imprudent, wliich would suit the metre better, 
 is never used by Sliakespeare. 
 
 113. Lines 78-81. — Tlie incidents in this scene appear 
 to have been taken from tlie account by Hall of what 
 took place, not at Orleans, but at "tlie citee of Maims," 
 which was delivered over to the French by the treachery 
 of the inhabitants; the K.arl of Suffolk and most of the 
 English garrison escaping into "the Castle which standeth 
 at the gate of Sainct Vincent," whence they sent a mes- 
 sage to Talbot asking for help. Talbot despatched one 
 Matthew Gougli "as an espial," who "so well sped, that 
 priuely in the night he came into the castle, where he 
 knew how tliat tlie French men bcyng lordes of the <'itee, 
 and now castyng no perils nor fcaryng any creatiiri', be- 
 gan to waxe wanton and felle to riote, as though their
 
 ACT II. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY YI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 enemies could do to them no damage: thyiikyng that the 
 Eiiglishemen whiche wer shut vp iu the Castle, studied 
 nothyng but how to escape and be deliueied. Whe 
 Matthew Gough had knoweu al the certaintie and had 
 eateu a litle breade aud diuuke a cuppe of wine to com- 
 fort liis stomacke, he priuely returned again, and within 
 a mile of the citee met with tlie lorde Talbot and the 
 Lorde Scales, and made open to theim al thyng according 
 to liis credence, whiche to spede the mutter, because the 
 day approclied, with al hast possible came to the pos- 
 terne gate, aud alighted from their horses, and about sixe 
 of the clocke in the mornyng thei issued out of the castle 
 criyng saiuct George, Talbot. The French men which 
 wer scace vp, and thouglit of notliyng lesse then of this 
 sodaiu approchment, some rose out of their beddes in 
 their shertes, and lepte oner tlie walks, other ranne 
 naked out of the gates for sauing of their liues, leuyng 
 behyude theim all tlieir apparell, horsses, armure and 
 riclies, none was hurt but suche, whiche ether resisted 
 or would not yelde, wherof some wer slain and cast 
 into prisone " (p. US). 
 
 114. Line 79: The cni of Talbot serves me for a su'ord. 
 — There are several allusions in writers of Shakespeai-e's 
 time to the terror which Talbot's name inspired. The 
 following is from Whitney's emblems, 1566: 
 
 So Hectors sighte greate feare in Greekes did woTke, 
 
 When hee was showed on horsebacke, beeinge dead : 
 
 HVNI.\DES, the terrour of the Turke. 
 
 Thoughe layed in graue, yet at his name they fled : 
 And cryinge babes they ceased with the same, 
 The hke in FraN'CE, sometime did Tatbots name. 
 
 (Green's Shakespeare and the Emblem Writers, p. 207.) 
 See also above i. 4. 42, 43, and below ii. 3. 16, 17. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 2. 
 
 115. Line 48: Xe'er trust me then. — Hanmer proposed 
 very plausibly " JVa?/. trust me there." It certainly seems 
 odd that Talbot should reply as if the Duke of Burgumly 
 had e.xpressed the opinion that he would 7iot comply 
 with the request of the countess. Perhaps we should un- 
 derstand by the expression in the text: "Xever trust me 
 if I do despise her suit;" then being equivalent to "if I 
 do what you say I may not." 
 
 116. Line 54: Xo, truly, NO; 't is MORE than manners 
 U'ill.—¥i. have: 
 
 Xo, truly 't is more than manners will 
 
 Most editors print it in for 't is; but we have preferred 
 inserting the second No to make the line complete; the 
 abbreviation of the it having been apparently inten- 
 tional. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 3. 
 
 117.— For the incident represented in this scene — 
 one capable of far more dramatic treatment tlian it here 
 receives— there appears to be no liistorical foundation 
 whatever; nor has there yet been found any other source, 
 legendary or dramatic, from which it might have been 
 taken. 
 
 118. Line 6: As Scythian ToMrnis fiy Cyrus' death.— 
 
 Tomyris was the queen of the Massagetce; a people of 
 Scytliia, who defeated Cyrus the Great in a battle in 529. 
 Cyrus crossed tlie Araxes in order to conquer the Massa- 
 getse ; he was at first victorious, the sou of Tomyris 
 being defeated, and her husband Slain. Slie was not long, 
 however, in avenging his death. Cyrus was killed in the 
 battle; the queen had his head cut off and thrown into a 
 bag filled with human blood, that he might satiate him- 
 self, as she said, witli blood. 'There is a well-known pic- 
 ture by Rubens on this subject. 
 
 119. Line 23: MTtJ/i/ed— Some editors read wrizled; but 
 the foim writhled is found in Marstou's Scourge of Vil- 
 lanie, Satire iv. Hue 35. Speaking of Sylenus, he says : 
 
 Cold, -wrUhUd eld, his lives-wet almost spent. 
 
 — Works, vol. iii. p. 262. 
 
 In Summer's Last "\\ill aud 'Testament we find the form 
 ivrithen = wrinkled. 
 
 And, Winter with thy lurithcu, frosty face. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. viii. p ?q. 
 
 The only authentic portrait of Talbot known, whicli ori- 
 ginally hung over tlie tomb of Lady Shrewsbury in old 
 St. Pauls, and is now in the Heralds' College, London, E.G., 
 proves tliat this description of his physical appearance 
 by tlie Countess of Auvergne could not have been in any 
 way a true one. The picture is a half-length; aud is 
 evidently the portrait of a man of fair average size and 
 considerable muscular development. A duplicate of this 
 portrait is in the possession of the ^larquis of Northamp- 
 ton at Castle Ashby. But to put the matter beyond all 
 doubt, when the bones of Talbot, which were found in a 
 perfect condition, were removed from tlie old tomb in 
 the parish church of St. Alkinnnds, Whitchurch, and re- 
 interred in a new tomb, they were arranged anatomi- 
 cally, and carefully measured; the femur or thigh bone 
 was found to be 18i inches long, from which it is quite 
 clear that the great general must have been a man, if not 
 a giant, certainly of such a height as by no stretch of the 
 imagination could be called a dwarf. (See Notes and 
 Queries, 6th S., xii. p. 502, Dec. 19, 1885.) 
 
 120. Line 27: / 'II SOKT sorn« other time to visit you.— 
 Shakespeare only uses sort in this sense = "to select" in 
 two other passages; in 'Two Gent, of Verona, iii. 2. 92: 
 
 To sari some f;entlenien well-skill'd in music; 
 
 and in Rom. and Jul. iv. 2. 34: 
 
 To help me sor/ such needful ornaments. 
 
 121. Line 42: captivate. —The same form is used below 
 in v. 3. 107: 
 
 Tush, women have been atftivate ere now. 
 
 Compare Solinian and Perseda, act iv. : 
 
 And Rhodes itself is lost, or else destroy'd: 
 If not destroy'd, yet bound and captivate; 
 11 captivate, then forc'd from holy faith. 
 
 —Dodsley, vol. v. p. 331. 
 
 122. Line 57: This w a riddling MERCHANT.— This use 
 of the word merchant, iu a contemptuous sense, is only 
 found in one other passage in Shakespeare, namely, in 
 Rom. and Jul. ii. 4. 153, 154: "what saucy merchant was 
 this, that was so full of his ropery?" Compare our slang 
 word chap, which is merely an abbreviation of chapman. 
 
 329
 
 ACT II. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. 
 
 ACT II. Scene 5. 
 
 123. Lines 78, 79: 
 
 tliat u'c may 
 Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have. 
 Seymour has the following note on this passage: "It 
 seems not very consistent with iliscretion in Talbot thus 
 to solicit a repast from one that had just been plotting 
 his destruction; she who intended to hang him would 
 not have scrupled to give him poison " (Remarlvs, vol. i. 
 p. 351). Certainly the conclusion of this scene, which 
 promises to be one of the most dramatic nature, contain- 
 ing, as it does, a really strong situation, is very tame. 
 But I think Seymour has misinterpreted the character of 
 Talbot as drawn in this play, and especially in this scene. 
 Ilaving accepted the frank apology of the countess, he 
 would be utterly incapable of harbouring any suspicion 
 of her good faith afterwards. He took this jovial and 
 good-natured way of ending what might have been a very 
 awkward adventure. 
 
 ACT II. SCKXK 4. 
 
 124. Lines 34, 35: 
 
 I loce no eoloin-x; and without all colour 
 Of hane insinuating flattery. 
 Compare Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 2. 156: "I do fear 
 colourable colours." So also in Lucrece, 475-478: 
 But she witli velicment prayers urjjeth still 
 Under what colour he comniits this ill. 
 
 Thus he replies: 
 
 The colour \n thj' face. 
 That even for anger makes the lily pale. 
 
 125. Line 56.— "1'his lawyer," Ritson says, " was proba- 
 bly Roger Xevyle, who was afterward hanged" (Var. Ed. 
 vol. xviii. p. 60). I do not know what ground Ritson had 
 for this conjecture. Few lawyers have attained the dis- 
 tinction which he claims for " Rnyer Xevyle." 
 
 126. Lines 65, 66: 
 
 hut anger that thy cheeks 
 Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses. 
 Malone thus explains the sentence: "it is not for fear 
 that my cheeks look pale, but for anger; anger produced 
 by this circumstance, namely, that thy cheeks blush," &c. 
 (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 63). The latter part of the sen- 
 tence seems the chief difficulty. I suppose it means that 
 the blush on PI:intagenet's cheek, which arose from 
 shame at showing he was in the wrong, counterfeited the 
 red roses of the Lancaster faction, as if the blusher knew 
 that he ought to be on the side of the red rose. 
 
 127. Line 76: 1 scorn thee and thy FACTION, peevish hoy. 
 — Ff. have fashion. The emendation is Theobald's, and 
 is justified by line 107 below, where Plantagenet says : 
 
 And, by my soul, this pale and an^ry rose 
 Will I for ever, and myyacltou wear. 
 
 128. Line 83: Ills grandfather teas Lionel DuJee of Clar- 
 ence. —This is a mistake (see note 7). Duke Lionel was his 
 maternal great-great-grandfather. 
 
 129 Line 86: He hears him on the place's privilege. — 
 This means, apparently, that the gardens and precincts 
 of the Temple had the "privilege of sanctuary." But this 
 330 
 
 was not so, it being then, as in later times, chiefly re- 
 markable as the residence of law students and "gentle- 
 men learned in the law." Probably the author still con- 
 nected the Temple with its original founders, the Knights 
 Templars; or perhaps he thouglit that any one might 
 hold himself secure from illegal violence in a place with 
 such a strong legal element all round him. If men quar- 
 relled within the bounds of the Temple, they were bound 
 only to quarrel "as the law directs," and not without the 
 paid assistance of lawyers. 
 
 130. Lines 96, 97.— The Earl of Cambridge was con- 
 demned like his associates on his own confession; but 
 that his intentions were different from those of his 
 fellow-conspirators the following passage in Hall would 
 seem to show: "For diuerse write that Richard earle of 
 Caml)ridge did not conspire with the lorde Scrojie and 
 sir Thomas Graye to niurther kyng Henry to please the 
 Frenclie kyng withal, but onely to thentent to exalte to 
 the croune his brotherinlawe Edmond earle of JIarche as 
 heyre to duke Lyonel. After whose death consideryng 
 that the earle of Marche for diuerse secrete impediments 
 was not liable to haue generacion, he was sure that the 
 croune should come to him by his wife, or to his children. 
 And tlierfore it is to be thought that he rather cofessed 
 him selfe for nede of money to be corrupted by the Freche 
 kyng, then he would declare his inwarde mynd and open 
 his very entent. For surely he sawe that if his purpose 
 were espied, the earle of March should haue dronken of 
 the same cup that he did, and what should haue come 
 to his owne children he niuche doubted. And tlierfore 
 beyng destitute of comfort and in dispayre of life, to saue 
 his children he fayned that tale, desiryng rather to saue 
 his succession then him selfe, which he did in dede. For 
 Richard duke of Yorke his sonne not priucly but openly 
 claimed the croune, and Edward his sonne both clnimed 
 and gained it as hereafter you shall heare, wliicli tliyng 
 at this time if kyng Henry had foresene I doubt whether 
 either euer that line should haue either claimed the gar- 
 lande or gained the game " (p. 61). 
 
 131. Line 101: I 'II note you in my BOOK OF MEMORY.— 
 Compare Hamlet, i. 5. 98, 99 : 
 
 "^'ea, from the /rt/V«r of7ny memory 
 I '11 wipe away all trivial fond records. 
 
 And (in line 103) in the same scene : 
 
 Within the hook and volume of my brain. 
 
 ACT II. ScKNK 5. 
 
 132. Line 9: «.s' drawing to their K.XIGENT.— Shakespeare 
 uses exigent in two other passages; in Antony and Cleo- 
 patra, iv. 14. 63 ; and in Julius Ciesar, v. 1. 19 ; in both of 
 which cases it is used as = "pressing necessity." It seems 
 to be used, as here, in the sense of end in the following 
 passage from The Wisdome of Dr. Dodypoll (iv. 3): 
 
 Aye nie, I feare my barbarous rudenesse to her 
 Hath driven her to some desperate fxi^cnt. 
 
 — Bullen's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 146. 
 
 In the following passage from A Knack to Know a Knave 
 (1594), the word appears to have much the same sense : 
 " I tell you, neighbour, my great grandfather and all my 
 predecessors have been held in good regard for their good
 
 ACT II. Scene 5. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY YI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 housekeeping; anil (God willing) their good names shall 
 never take an exigent in me" (.Dodsley, vol. vi. p. 546). 
 I'ossibly there was, in the latter passage, some allusion 
 to the legjil sense of the word. 
 
 133. Lines 23-25: 
 
 Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
 Before rvhuse glory I ivas great in arms, 
 This loathsome sequestration have I had. 
 This was not historically true (see above, note 13). The 
 author fell into the mistake very likely through the fol- 
 lowing passage in Hall (p. 128): "Duryng whiche season, 
 Kdmonde Mortimer, the last Erie of Marche of tliat 
 name (whiche long tyme had been restrained from his 
 liberty, and finally wa.xed lame) disceased without issue, 
 wliose inheritauncs discended to lorde Ricliard Planta- 
 genet, sonne and heire to Ricliard erle of Cambridge, 
 beheded, as you haue heard before, at the touue of 
 Southhaton." 
 
 134. Line Gl : my FADING breath. —Walker suggests 
 tliat we should read failing, wliich is certainly a more 
 appropriate word ; but it is hardly worth while to alter 
 tlie text. Below, in line 95, we have "fainting words." 
 
 135. Line 64: Deposed his NEPHEW Bichard. —Some 
 editors would read cousin. Bolingbroke and Richard 
 were first cousins; but cousin and nephew are both used 
 to express various relationships. In Othello, i. 1. 112 
 nephews is used = grandchildren. Compare lien Jonson's 
 Masque of Augurs : 
 
 Hiin (:.c your son) shall you see triumphing over all, 
 Both foes and vices : and your young and tall 
 Nephews, his sons, grow up in your embraces. 
 
 — Works, vol. vii. p. 445. 
 
 But this sense of nephew is the same as that of the Latin 
 nepos, from which nephew is derived througli the French 
 neveu. Spenser uses it = descendant in general, in the 
 Ruines of Rome (viii. 6): 
 
 This peoples vertue yet so fruitfull was 
 
 Of vertuous nefhe-wes, that posteritie. 
 
 Striving in power tiieir grandfathers to pass, &c. 
 
 —Works, vol. V. p. 305. 
 
 But here, and in the passage quoted by Nares from Dray- 
 ton (under nephciv), it is evidently associated, in the 
 writer's mind, with the sense of grandson. But that 
 cousin is used very indiscriminately for any relationship, 
 is clear from numerous passages, e.g. Hamlet, i. 2. 64: 
 
 But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my sofi. 
 
 Niece also appears to have been used of different rela- 
 tionships. See Two Gent, of Verona, note 91. 
 
 136. Lines 74, 75 : 
 
 For by my MOTHER / derived am 
 From Lionel Duke of Clarence. 
 
 This is a mistake; it should be grandmother, i.e., his 
 
 father's mother (see above, note 1:3). 
 
 137. Line 76: Unto the third King Edward.— In Ff. the 
 line stands: 
 
 To King Edward the Third; whereas he, 
 
 a line too excruciatingly unmetrical to be admitted as 
 verse at all. The emendation is one that I have ventured 
 to make. Compare line 66 above : 
 
 Of Edward king, the tliird of that descent. 
 
 138. Lines 82, 83 : 
 
 Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, 
 Succeeding Ids sire Bolingbroke, did reign. 
 
 In F. 1 (which the other Ff. follow substantially) the 
 
 second line is : 
 
 Succeeding his l-ather Buliingbroke, did reigne ; 
 
 I have ventured to substitute sire, a word used frequently 
 by Shakespeare in the sense of /of/ifr, which makes the 
 line more metrical. One would be tempted to suggest a 
 rearrangement of these two lines thus : 
 
 Long after this when the Fifth Henry reign'd. 
 Succeeding (o his father Bolingbroke, 
 
 but that Shakespeare appears never to have used to suc- 
 ceed, or any of its derivatives, in this sense, with the pre- 
 position to. He always uses the verb alone. 
 
 139. Line 88: Levied an army. — Neither the Earl of 
 Cambridge, nor any of his accomplices in the conspiracy, 
 appears to have levied an army, or ever to have contem- 
 plated doing so. See above, note 130. 
 
 140. Line 96: Thoit art my heir; the rest I wish thee 
 gather. — Thus explained by Heath: "I acknowledge thee 
 to be my heir ; the consequences which may be collected 
 from thence, I recommend it to tliee to draw" (Revisal, 
 p. 281). But may not the latter part of the speech mean: 
 " the rest, Le., tlie practical result, the advantages to be 
 gained therefrom, I wish thee to gather, i.e. to reap." 
 
 141. Lines 109, 110 : 
 
 Thou dost then ivrong vie, — as that slaughterer doth 
 Which giveth many wotmds ivhen one will kill. 
 Compare Hamlet, iv. 5. 95, 96 : 
 
 Like to a murdering piece, in many places 
 Gives me superfluous death. 
 
 142. Line 129: Or make my ILL the advantage of my 
 good.— Ft. have "my will;" corrected by Theobald. 
 
 ACT III. SCKNE 1. 
 
 143. The Parliament, in whicli this scene is supposed 
 to take place, met at Leicester on the 25th day of March, 
 1426. Henry VI. was then only four years and three 
 months old. The dramatist has assigned to him the part 
 really played on this occasion by the Duke of Bedford, 
 who was summoned liastily from France by a letter from 
 the Bishop of Winchester, complaining of the Lord Pro- 
 tector's conduct. 'Whoever was tlie original author of 
 this play, he w^as quite right to disregard history in this 
 matter; perhaps Sliakespeare himself might have trans- 
 ferred what should be Bedford's speech to the young 
 king. One of the dramatic objects, which he proposed to 
 himself in this play, evidently was to illustrate the char- 
 acter of the boy-king, and so to complete the portrait of 
 Henry which the Three Parts furnish. The passage in 
 Hall, referring to the Parliament at Leicester, is as fol- 
 lows : " The xxv. dale of Marche after his coniyng to 
 London, a parliamet began at the tonne of Leicester, 
 where the Duke of Bedford openly rebuked tlie Lordes in 
 generale, because that tliey in the tyme of wane, through 
 their priuie malice and inward grudge, had almoste 
 moued the people to warre and commocion, in which 
 
 331
 
 ACT III Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 tyme all men, ought or should be of one mynde, harte 
 and consent: retiuiiyug them to defend, serue and diede 
 their soueraigne lorde kyng Henry, in perfourniyng his 
 conquest in Fraunce, whiclie was in nmner brouglit to 
 conclusion. In this parliament the Duke of Gloucester, 
 laicd certain articles to the bishop of Wynchesters charge, 
 the whiche with the ausweres lieraf ter do ensue " (p. 130). 
 Fabyan tells us (p. 59(i) that the Parliament lasted till 
 the lf>tli of June in the same year; also that it was called 
 by the common people The I'arliament of Bats,' " tlie 
 cause was, for prodamacyous were made, y' men shulde 
 leue theyr swcrdes and other wepeyns in their innys, 
 the people toke great battes and stauys in theyr ncckes," 
 (i.e. on their shoulders) "and so folowed theyr lordes 
 and maisters vnto the parlyamcnt. And whan y' wepyn 
 was inhybyted theym.then tliey toke stonys and plumettes 
 of lede, and trussyd them secretely iu theyr sleuys and 
 bosomys." 
 
 144. Linel: deep-premeditated.— yothyxihcnedin Ff . ; 
 but dee2J must be an adverb here, so we have thought it 
 better to follow Dyce in adopting Walker's suggestion to 
 insert the hyphen. 
 
 145. Line C: extemporal. — This form of the adjective 
 is used by Shakesi)eare only here, and twice in Love's 
 Labour's Lost; i. 2. 189; iv. 2. 51. As Armado is the 
 speaker in the first case, and Holofernes in the second 
 case, the word would seem to lie under some suspicion of 
 affectation or pedantry. Shakespeare, however, uses the 
 adverb cxtemporally in Aut. and Cleo. v. 2. 217, and in 
 Venus and Adonis (line 830). Extemporal is used by 
 Hooker, and by later authors such as Boyle and Locke ; 
 but it is rarely if ever used in the present day. Burton, 
 in his Anatomy of Melancholy, uses cxtemporaneou>i ; 
 while the more modern form extemporanj does not seem 
 to be used by any author earlier than Bishop Taylor. 
 
 146. Line 29: Were 1 auibitious, covetous, or MOKSE.— 
 This line stands iu Ff. thus : 
 
 If I were covetous, ambitious ox peyjerse^ 
 a very inharmonious line, which could only be made 
 metrical by transposing the last two adjectives, and 
 omitting or (as Tope prints it): 
 
 If I were covetous, perverse, ambitious. 
 
 Biit I have ventured on the alteration given in the text, 
 because perverse seems to me a very weak word here; 
 and jijro?/d (Collier's suggestion) hardly less so. Gloucester 
 has piled such a heap of alnise on his uncle that the 
 latter may well scruple to repeat his polite epithets: 
 letvd, jiestiferous, lascivious, wanton, perniciovs nsurer, 
 &c. There seems to be little or no historical groun<l fur 
 Gloucester's virulent abuse of the Cardinal. 
 
 147. Lines 41, 42: 
 
 But he shall know I am as good 
 
 Glo. A s good! 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather! 
 
 1 Bats, i.e. clubs ; the word is still preserved in this sense when used 
 of a cricket bat or tennis bat, which, in their original form, were little 
 better than clubs with fl.ittened ends. It is also used of Harlequin's 
 wooden sword, which he still carries ill modern pantomimes. 
 
 Walker proposes to read : 
 
 But he shall know I am as gjood as he. 
 Clo. As good, thou bastard of my grandfather 1 
 
 Very likely this suggestion may be right; but the text, as 
 it stands, sins against neither sense nor metre. Glouces- 
 ter's reflection on the Cardinal's birth is not in good 
 taste; for tlie explanation of it see above, note 4. 
 
 148. Line 45: Am 1 not hOKD protector, saucy priest!— 
 V. 1, F. 2 have: 
 
 Am I not Protector, saucy Priest? 
 
 in F. 3, F. 4 : 
 
 Am not I Protector, saucy Priest? 
 
 Tlie emendation we have adopted is Walker's conjecture. 
 
 149. Line 49: reverend.— Ho V. 3, F. 4; but F. 1, F. 2 have 
 reverent, which now we only use in the active sense, as 
 implying the act of revering, not the quality of being 
 revered. 
 
 150. Lines 51-.'>5, — Arranged as by Theobald. Ff. givo 
 line 52 to Warwick, and linos 53-55 to Somerset. 
 
 151. Lines 78-80 : 
 
 The bishop and the Duke of Gloster's men. 
 Forbidden late to carry any weapon. 
 Have fill' d their 2>ockets full of pebble stones. 
 See above note 143. For a similar form of the possessive 
 's being omitted in the first of a pair of words, compare 
 Richard II. ii. 3. C2 : 
 
 Shall be your /oir and labour's recompense. 
 
 152. Line 82: at one another's PATE.— Altered by Pope, 
 wliom many editors follow, unneeeasarily to pates. It is 
 tiresome to notice these petty emendations; but, as Rolfe 
 remarks, unless one does note them, the ordiiiiuy reader 
 may think there is a misprint in the text. In trying to 
 make Shakespeare's grammar conform, in all respects, to 
 modern usages, those characteristics of style, common to 
 him and to many authors of tluit period, are lost. 
 
 153. Line 90: To none inferior but his majesty.— Ff. 
 
 have 
 
 Inferior to none but to his majesty: 
 
 a very awkward, unrhythmical line. Steevens omitted 
 
 tlie second to; but suggested, in a note, the arrangement 
 
 of the line which we have adopted. 
 
 154. Lines 103,104: 
 
 Shall PITCH afield wlien we are dead. 
 Glo. Stay, stay! 
 
 Referring to the practice of archers and of foot-soldiers, 
 in battles at this period, always to protect themselves, 
 when possible, against cavalry, by a fence of stout stakes 
 pitched, or stuck, in the ground. See i. 1. 110-119. Ff. 
 have " Stay, stay, I say!" We have followed Hanmer in 
 omitting the words / say, which seem perfectly unne- 
 cessary, and clash awkwardly with yoii say in the next 
 line. 
 
 155. Line 138: THIS token servethfor a flag of truce. — 
 What does he mean by This token! Probably, as we 
 have explained it in the stage-direction, he speaks the 
 words while clasping the cardinal's riglit hand with his 
 own; meaning that this public reconciliation of the prin- 
 cipals would serve for the sign of a truce between the 
 followers, as well as between themselves. 
 
 332
 
 ACT III. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 156. Lilies 146-148.— These lines are all printed in Ff. 
 as prose; it seems no use to try and make verse of them. 
 
 157. Line 159: That Richard be restored to hin blood. — 
 See Hall (p. 138): "I'or ioy wherof, the kyng caused a 
 solepne ftast, to be kept on Whitson sondaie, on the 
 whiche dale, he created Richard riantagenet, sonne and 
 heire to the erle of Cambridge (whom his father at 
 Hampton, had put to execution, as you before haue 
 hearde) Duke of York, not forseyiig before, that this 
 prefermet should be his destruccion, nor that his sede 
 should, of his geueracion, bee the extreme eude and 
 finall confusion." 
 
 158. Lines 167, 168: 
 
 Tliij humble servant vows obedience 
 And FAITHFUL service till the point of death. 
 Ff. have "and humble service, &c." We have adopted 
 Pope's emendation which substituted/ai;/*/tt2 for humble, 
 avoiding the awkward tautology. It seems a better 
 answer on the part of Plautagenet to what the king says 
 first above (line 163) "If Richard will be true," for him 
 to answer that he will give " his faithful service." 
 
 159. Line 176: That grudge one thovght against your 
 majesty. — Clarke seems to be the only commentator who 
 has noted the difficulty of assigning to the word grudge 
 in tliis line its e.xact meaning. We have given in the 
 foot-note .Schmidt's explanation of the word in this 
 passage ; but, as an alternative, we have also given the 
 sense of " to murmur," in which it appears to be u.sed by 
 Shakespeare — though intransitively— in more than one 
 instance. Still I do not feel sure that Schmidt is right 
 in assigning that meaning (i.e. "to murmur") to grudge 
 in all the passages which he quotes. For instance, in 
 Richard III. ii. 1. 9: 
 
 By heavens my heart is free from gntifi'ii:^^ hate, 
 
 it seems to have the sense of "sullen" or "malicious;" 
 perhaps " envious." The original meaning of to grudge, 
 and that in which it is most frequently used, both in the 
 old and modern English writers, is the sense of "to re- 
 pine, ' " to regret," with an idea of sullenness. Chaucer 
 couples it with "murmur:" 
 
 As by continual murmur ax s^'-ntching. 
 
 — ^\■ife of Bathe's Tale, Prologue, line S98S. 
 
 In iv. 1. 141 we have another instance of the use of this 
 verb, but not in the same sense. It is when King Henry 
 is trying to reconcile the partisans of York and Lancas- 
 ter. It is better to quote the whole passage (lines 137- 
 112): 
 
 And you, my lords, remember where you are : 
 In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation : 
 If they perceive dissention in our looks, 
 And that within ourselves we disagree, 
 How will ^\k:\x i^ritdsing stomachs be provok'd 
 To wilful disobedience, and rebel I 
 
 Here it may mean "malicious," or it may mean the sullen 
 submission which the French rendered to the English, 
 submission which' a very little encouragement would 
 rouse into rebellion. 
 
 160. Lines 198, 199 : 
 
 That Henry born at Monmouth should win all. 
 And Henry born at Windsor should lose all. 
 
 See Hall (p. 108) : " But when he " (i.e. Henry V.) " lieard 
 reported the place of his natiuitie, whether he fantasied 
 some old blind prophesy, or had some foreknowledge, 
 or els iudged of liis sones fortune, he sayd to the lord 
 Fitzheugh his trusty Chamberlein these wordcs. My lorde, 
 I Henry borne at Moiimoth sliall small tyme reigne and 
 much get, and Hery borne at Wyndsore shall long reign 
 and al lese, but as God will so be it." 
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 161. The stratagem practised here by Joan of Arc was 
 really practised, apparently, by the Englisli. Kniglit fell 
 into a mistake here. He says: "The stratagem by which 
 Joan of Arc is here represented to have taken Rouen is 
 found in Holinshed, as a narrative of the mode in which 
 Evreux was taken in 1442." In the first case it is under 
 1441 that the announcenment is mentioned ; secondly, it 
 was not at Evreux, as will be seen by the account given 
 by Hall, followed almost verbatim by Holinshed, which 
 is as follows: "A little before this enterprise, the Frenche- 
 men had taken tlie tonne of Eureux, by treason of a 
 fisher. Sir Fraunces Arragonoys heaiyng of that chaunce, 
 apparreled sixe strong men, like rustical people with 
 sackes and baskettes, as carriers of come, and vitaile, 
 and sent them to the Castle of Cornyll,i in the whiche 
 diuerse Englishemen were kept as iirisoners: and he with 
 an iml)usshement of Englishemen, lay in a valey nye 
 to the fortresse. These sixe companions entered into the 
 Castle, vnsuspected and not mistrusted, and straight 
 came to the chambre of the capitain, and laied handes 
 upo hym, geuyng knowledge therof to their imbushe- 
 nient, whiche sodainly entered the Castle, and slew and 
 toke all the Frenchemen prisoners, and set at libertie all 
 the Englishemen, wliiche thing doeu, they set all the 
 castle on fire, and departed with great spoyle to the citee 
 of Roan " (p. 197). 
 
 162. Lines 13, 14: 
 
 Watch. [Within] Quivala? 
 Puc. Paysans, pauvres gens de France. 
 In F. 1 (which the other Ff. follow) the lines are printed 
 
 tlius : 
 
 Watch. Che la. 
 
 Pucell. Peasauns la pouvre gens de Fraunce. 
 
 The editors of F. 1 were evidently not strong in foreign 
 languages. 
 
 163. Line 22: Vi'here is the best, &c.— Ff. have Here; the 
 correction was made by Rowe. 
 
 164. Line 40: That hardly 7vc escap'd the PRIDE of 
 France. — Theobald altered pj-jrfe, unnecessarily, to prize. 
 Shakespeare uses pride in two other passages in the same 
 sense; below, in this play, iv. 6. 15: 
 
 And from ihe /■n'lie of Gallia rescu'd thee. 
 
 1 It does not appear where this C/tsf/c ff Contyll was. If it was an 
 outwork of Evreux, one would have expected some mention of the 
 fact. Neither Hall nor Holingshed says that Evreux was retaken by 
 the English. There is a place, called Corneilles, in the same depart- 
 ment, the Eure, as Evreux, 15 kilometres south-west of Pont Audemer, 
 which may possibly be the Cornyll of Hall, and the Coriiill of 
 Holingshed. 
 
 333
 
 ACT III. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 Anil in Henry V. i. 2. Ill, 112: 
 
 O noble English, that could entertain 
 
 With half their forces the tuW pride of I-rance. 
 
 The sense we have jtiven to the word, in the foot-note, 
 seems to be the nearest that one can give in a condensed 
 form ; pride in all these three passages evidently means 
 "the best" or "chosen troops," "those of which the 
 country has most reason to be proud." 
 
 165. Line 44: T was /""f'.'' DARNEL -Gerard in his Iler- 
 l)al says: "Darnel hurteth the eyes, and vtaketh thcmdim, 
 if it happen in come for breade, or drinke." Steevens adds 
 in liis note: "Hence the old proverb— Lo^io victitare, ap- 
 plied to such as were dun-siyhted. Thus also Ovid, Fast. 
 
 i. 691: 
 
 Et careant Mil's otiilos vituiiilibiis agri. 
 
 Pucelle means to intimate, that the corn she carried with 
 her had produced the same effect on the guards of 
 Rouen; otherwise they would have seen through her dis- 
 guise, and defeated her stratagem." lilakeway has an 
 Interesting note on this line: "Darnel is the Loliuni teinu- 
 lentum, so called, because when the seeds happen to be 
 ground with corn, the bread made of tliis mi.xture always 
 occasions giddiness and sickness in those who eat it. It 
 resembles wheat in its appearance, whence Dr. Campbell 
 is of opinion, that it was the itixux of .St. .Matt. xiii. 25, 
 improperly rendered tarcii in our .Authorized Version" 
 (Var. Ed. .wiii. p. 91). 
 
 166. Line 52: hag »/ ALL despite.— Collier altered all to 
 hell's, considering it, according to Dyce (see his note on 
 this passage), "as equivalent to 'hag of hellish de.«pite.' 
 But compare, in Coriolanus (iii. 3. 139): 
 
 As he hath follow'd you, with all dcspiU, &c.; 
 
 and in the Third Part of King Henry VI. (ii. 6. 80), 
 
 That I in all despite might rail at him," ,.1-c. 
 
 167. Line 73: we ca-nve UP hut to tell you.— In F. 1 the 
 line is defective and reads "we came to tell you." F. 2 
 inserted Sir; but itp, wliich is Lettsom's emendation, 
 adopted by Dyce, is much lietter; it means " up on the 
 walls." 
 
 168 Lines 82, 83: 
 
 -Is sure as in this late betrayed town 
 Great Coeur-de-lion's heart teas btti-ied. 
 The heart of Richard Cu;ur-de-lion was buried in Kouen 
 Cathedral, and is now in the museum of that town. 
 Holiiished's account of Ilichard's last directions as to the 
 disposal of his body after death is as follows: "Finallie 
 remenil)riiig hiniselfe also of the place of his buriall, he 
 commanded that his bodie shouM be interred at Fonteu- 
 rard at his fatliers feet, but he willed his heart to be con- 
 ueied vnto Rouen, and there burieil, in testimonie of the 
 lone wliich he had euer borne vnto that citie for the 
 stedfast faith and tried loialtie at all times found in the 
 citizens there. His bowels he ordeined to lie buried in 
 I'oictiers, as in a place iiaturallie vnthaiikefull and not 
 worthie to reteine any of the more honorable parts of his 
 bodie " (vol. ii. p. 270). There are many variations of this 
 story. 
 
 169 Lines 95, 90; 
 
 Tliat stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick. 
 Came to the field, and vanquished his foes. 
 334 
 
 Uther Pendragon was the father of King Arthur. The 
 story alluded to is found in Harding's Chronicle: 
 
 I'or which the king ortl.iin*d a horse litter 
 To bear him so then unto V'erolaine, 
 Where Ocea lay, and Oysa also in fear, 
 That Saint Albones now hight of noble fame. 
 Bet down the walles; but to him forth they came. 
 Where in battayle Ocea and Oysa were slayn. 
 The fiekle he had, and thereof was full fayn. 
 
 170. Line 110.— The Duke of Bedford's death really took 
 place peaceably at Rouen in 1435 (see above, note 2). Hall 
 (p. 178) gives the following account of his death and 
 funeral: "This yere the .\iiij. dale of September, died 
 Ihon duke of Bedford, Regent of Fraunce, a man, as polli- 
 tique in peace, as hardy in warre, and yet no more hardy 
 in warre, then niercifull, when he had victory, whose 
 bodye was, with greate funerall solempnitie, buried in the 
 Cathedrall churehe of our Lady, in Roan, on the Xorth- 
 side of the high aulter, vnder a sumptuous and costly 
 monument." 
 
 171. Line 117: Let Heaven have glory for this victory.'— 
 
 Ff. have : 
 
 Yet, heavens have glory for this victory. 
 
 Dyce altered Yet to Let, which emendation we have 
 adopted with the additional alteration of heavens to 
 Heaven. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 172. Line 44.— There is no historical foundation for this 
 personal appeal of Joan to the Duke of Burgundy ; but a 
 letter said to have l)een addressed by her to the Duke on 
 the day of Charles's coronation in Rlieims is given in 
 Barante's Chronicles (toni. iv. p. 2.")9) and transcribed by 
 Knight. In the original French it runs as follows ; 
 
 " Jhesus Maria. 
 Haut et redouts prince, due de Bourgogne, Jehanne 
 la Pucelle vous requiert, de par le roi du ciel, nion droit- 
 urier souverain seigneur, tiue le roi de France et vous 
 fassie/, bonne paix, ferine, qui dure longuement. Par- 
 donnez I'un i I'autre de bon coeur, entiferement, ainsi que 
 doivent faire loyaux Chretiens ; et s'il vous plait guer- 
 royer, allez sur le Sarrasin. Prince de Bourgogne, je vous 
 prie, supplie, et requiers taut humblement que je vous 
 puis requ^rir, que lie guerroyiez plus an saint royaume 
 de France, et faites retiaire incontinent et brievemeiit 
 vos gens qui sont en aucunes places ct forteresses dudit 
 royaume. De la part du geiitil roi de France, il est pret 
 de faire paix avec vous, sauf son honneur ; et il ne tient 
 qu k vous. Et je vous fais savoir, de par le roi du ciel, 
 mon droiturier et souverain seigneur, pour votre bien ct 
 votre honneur, que vous ne gagnerez point de l)ataille 
 contre les loyaux Fran?ais ; et que tons ceux (jui guer- 
 royent audit saint royaume de France guerroyent contre 
 le roi Jhesus, roi du ciel et de tout le monde, mon droit- 
 urier et souverain seigneur. Et vous prie et vous requiers 
 il jointes mains (jue ne fassiez niille bataille, ni ne guer- 
 royiez contre nous, vous, vos gens, et vos sujets. Croyez 
 sflrement, quelque nombre de gens que vous amcnicz 
 contre nous, qu'ils n'y gagiieront mie; et sera grand pitie 
 de la grand bataille et du sang (lui sera repandu de ccu.x
 
 ACT III. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 4. 
 
 qui y viendront contre nous. II y a trois seniaines que 
 je vous ai 6ciit et envoyez de bonnes letties par un 
 heraut pour que vous fussiez au sacre du roi qui, aujour- 
 dliui dimance, di\-septienie jour de ce present mois de 
 jiiillet, se fait en la cit6 de Reims. Je n'en ai pas eu 
 reponse, ni one depuis n'a oni nouvelles du heraut. A 
 Dieu vous recommande et soit garde de vous, s'il lui 
 plait, et prie Dieu qu'il y niette bonne paix. Ecrit audit 
 lieu de Reims, le 17 juillet." 
 
 I append a translation for the benefit of those of our 
 readers not acquainted witli old French : 
 "Jesus Mary. 
 
 High and redoubted prince, Duke of Burgundy, Joan 
 the maid beseeches you, by the King of Heaven, my right- 
 ful sovereign lord, that the King of France and you should 
 make a good peace, firm, whicli may endure long. Pardon 
 one another with good heart, entirely, as loyal Cln-istians 
 ought to do ; and if it pleases you to make war, go against 
 the Saracen. Prince of Burgundy, I pray you, supplicate 
 you, and beseecli you, as humbly as I can beseech you, 
 that you war not any more against the holy kingdom of 
 France, and that you cause to retreat incontinently and 
 shortly your men who are in any places and fortresses of 
 the said kingdom. On the part of the gentle king of 
 France, he is ready to make peace with you, without pre- 
 judice to his honour; and he only waits for you. And I 
 make you to know, by the King of Heaven, my rightful 
 and sovereign lord, for your good and for your honour, 
 that you will not gain any battle against the loyal French; 
 and that all those who make war on the said holy king- 
 dom of France make war against the King Jesus, the 
 king of heaven and all tlie world, my rightful and sove- 
 reign lord. And I pray you and beseech you with clasped 
 hands that you should not make any battle, nor war 
 against us, you, your men, and your subjects. Believe 
 surely, whatever the number of men that you may 
 liring against us, that they will not gain anything; and 
 tliere will Ije great pity fur the great battle and for the 
 blood which shall be shed of those who shall go against 
 us. It is three weeks that I have written to you and sent 
 good letters by a herald In order that you should have 
 lieen at the coronation of the king, which, to-day .Sunday, 
 the seventeenth of this present month of July, takes 
 place in the city of Kheims. I have not had any response, 
 nor ever since have I heard any news of the herald. I 
 commend you to God and may he protect you, if it pleases 
 hini, and I pray God to arrange a good peace. Written 
 at the said place of PJieims, the ITtli July." 
 
 The language of this letter is certainly very simple and 
 that of a person who thoroughly believes in her own mis- 
 sion. One may notice the frequent recurrence of the 
 phrase "rightful sovereign lord" used of God or of "our 
 Lord Jesus. ' The Duke of Burgundy did not break off 
 his alliance with Henry and go over to tlie French till 
 1435. On •2(ith Septendjer in that year peace was pro- 
 claimed between France and Burgundy at Arras, where 
 a congress had been held, after the representatives of the 
 King of England had left in disgust at their failure to 
 obtain any acceptable terms from France. 
 
 173. Line 47; .-l« look^ the mother on her LOWLY babe. — 
 So Ff.: most editors adopt Warburton's rather commou- 
 
 jdace emendation lovely. There is something repugnant 
 to one's feelings in such an epithet in a passage like this, 
 which describes the desolation of the speaker's country. 
 Whether we take loivbj to mean "humble in rank," or. 
 as Schmidt explains it, " enfeebled" (by illness or starva- 
 tion), it is the preferable epithet of the two. Rather than 
 lovely I would suggest lonely as the word to be substi- 
 tuted, if any change be desirable ; lonely in the sense of 
 "deserted by all save the mother," or, =the "one remain- 
 ing babe " would be in accord w ith the picture. 
 
 174. Line 57: And wash aivay thy country's stained 
 spote.— Should we not read here"»<ai7i«d country's spots?" 
 Stained s2)ots seems but poor sense; nhWe stained applied 
 to country would be a forcible epithet, meaning that 
 France was dishonoured by the presence of a foreign 
 enemy in her midst; or by the fact of one of her own 
 cliildren helping to make war upon her. For an instance 
 of an epithet joined to a wrong word see below, note 200. 
 
 175. Line 72 : They set him free without his ransom 
 paid. —This is historically inaccurate. The Duke of 
 Orleans was not liberated till about the end of the year 
 14-10, five years after the Duke of Burgundy had aban- 
 doned the English alliance. 
 
 176. Line 85: Done like a Fretichinan,— [Aside] turn, 
 and turn again .'—'Hie fickleness of the French was and 
 is proverbial ; but surely such a taunt is out of place in 
 the mouth of this simple and heroic maid w ho so loved 
 her country. The writer of this line was probably not 
 Shakespeare; and if so, he fell into the error, so common 
 with inferior dramatists, of putting into the mouths of 
 their Dramatis Personas the sentiments of the author 
 himself, however inconsistent. 
 
 ACT III. Scene 4. 
 
 177. Henry VI. did not visit France till 1430 when he 
 was in his ninth year. He went first to Rouen, where he 
 appears to have remained about eighteen months; after 
 which time, when all hope of being able to reach Rheims, 
 where it was the Duke of Bedford's original intention that 
 he should be crowned, being abandoned, the young king 
 set out for Paris. He first went to Pontoise, and thence 
 to St. Denis, whence he made his entry into Paris in 
 ^'ovember, 1431. 
 
 178. Line 7: Tivelce cities, seven walled towns of strength. 
 — Ff. have : 
 
 Twelve cites, nnd seven walled towns of strength. 
 
 We have omitted the and for the sake of the metre. 
 
 179. Line 13: Is this Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester?^ 
 This is the only passage where we find this name printed 
 Gloucester ; in all the other passages, even where it is 
 evidently pronounced as a trisyllable, it is printed Gloster. 
 In Ff. the line stands: 
 
 Is this the Lord Talbot, Uncle Gloucester? 
 
 We have omitted the the, in preference to inserting any 
 such word as fain'd (Rowe's emendation), and made 
 Gloucester a trisyllable. 
 
 180. Lines 17, 18: 
 
 When I wa.i young,— as yet I am not old, — 
 J do remember how my father said, &c. 
 335
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 This is a delightful poetical license Henry VI. was nine 
 months old when his father died. 
 
 181. Lines 38, 30 : 
 
 Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is stich. 
 That iclioso draws a sword, 't is present death. 
 Blackstone says: "by the ancient law before the Con- 
 quest, fighting in the king's palace, or before the king's 
 judges, was punixhed with death. So too, in the old 
 Gothic constitution, there were many places privileged 
 by law, 'tiuibus major reverentia et securitas debetur, 
 ut tenipla et judicia qua; sancta habebantur, — arces et 
 aula rcgix, — deni(iue locus ([uilibet presente ant adven- 
 tante rege. ' And at present with us, by the Stat. 33 Hen. 
 VIII. c. -viL malicious striking in the king's palace, 
 wherein his royal person resides, whereby blood is drawn, 
 is punishable by perpetual imprisonment and fine, at the 
 king's pleasure, and also with loss of the offender's right 
 hand, tlie solemn execution of which sentence is pre- 
 scribed in the statute at length " (Commentaries, vol. iv. 
 p. 124). 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 1. 
 
 182. Line 1: Lord bishop, set the crown vpon his head. 
 — The coronation of Henry VI. took place on the 17th 
 December, 1431. Hall gives a detailed description of his 
 progress from St. Denis to Paris, and of the grjind pro- 
 cession and pageant which met him on the way. The 
 author of tliis drama, having killed olf the Duke of Bed- 
 ford, has thereby niifortunately got rid of a character 
 who played a very prominent part in the coronation 
 ceremonies. According to Hall, Gloucester does not seem 
 to have been present; he has i)robably been substituted 
 by the dramatist for the Duke of Bedford. Hall thus 
 describes the actual coronation: "And on the .wij. of 
 thesaied moneth, he departed from the place" (i.e. "the 
 pilaice of Paris") "in greate triumphe, honorably ac- 
 companied, to our Lady church of Paris: where with al 
 solempnitie, he was anoyntc<l and crouned kyug of 
 Fraunce, by the Cardinal of Winchester: (tlie bishop of 
 Paris, not beyng content, that the Cardinal should do 
 suche a high Ceremony, in his Churche and iurisdiccion.) 
 At the offerjTig, he offred Ijreade and wine, as the custome 
 of Frauce is. AVhen the deuine sernise was finished, 
 and all Ceremonies due, to that high estate were ac- 
 coplished, the kyng departed toward the i)alaice, hauyng 
 one croune on his hed, and another borne before hym, 
 and one scepter in his hand, and the second borne before 
 hym " (p. IGl). 
 
 183. Line 3: A'oip, governor of Paris, take your oath. 
 — Hall does not mention any governor of Paris; but lie 
 mentions a Sir Simon Mouer, provost of Paris, who met 
 the king on his way between St. Denis and Paris. I can 
 find no mention of any governor of Paris, either in Hall 
 or in Holinshed. French says (p. 148): when Paris was 
 captured by the English, the Duke of Bedford "appointed 
 as its governor .John of Luxemburg;" but, according to 
 Hall (p. IGO), Sir John of Luxe nhorough was left by the 
 Duke of Burgundy as his lieutenant at the siege of Com- 
 piegne. 
 
 336 
 
 184. Line 12: Writ to your grace from VillLlP Bnke of 
 Lurgundy. — Ff. read: 
 
 Writ to your grace from//iir Duke of Burjfundy. 
 
 That makes such a very awkward line, that we have 
 ventured to amend it as above. 
 
 185. Line l'>: Tu tear the garter from thy craven's leg. — 
 See above, note 47. 
 
 186. Line 19: at the battle of Patay.—VS. print, by mis- 
 take, Poictiers; corrected by JIalone. 
 
 187. Lines 48, 49 : 
 
 And now, my lord protector, view the letter 
 Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy. 
 
 It was not till four years after Henry's coronation in Paris 
 that the Duke of Burgundy seceded from the English 
 alliance. (.See above, note 172. ) The ' ' letters " sent by the 
 Duke of Burgundy to King Henry were sent, according 
 to Hall, by "Thoison Dor, his kyug at amies" (p. 177). 
 They were to the effect that " he, beyng not only waxed 
 faint, and weried, with continual warre, and daily con- 
 flictes, but also chafed daily, witli complaintes and lamen- 
 tacion, of his people, whiche, of the Frenchemen, suffered 
 losse and detriment, enibraydyng and rebukyng hym 
 openly, aftirming that he onely was the supporter and 
 mainteyner, of the Englishe people, and that by his 
 meanes and power, the mortall M'arre was continued and 
 sette forward, and that he more diligetly studied, and 
 intentiuely toke pain, bothe to kepe, and niaintein 
 thenglishemen in Fraunce, and also to aduauce and pro- 
 mote their desires, and intentes, ratlier then to restore 
 kyng Chai'les his cosyn, to his rightful inlieritaunce, and 
 paternal possession: by reason of whiclie thyuges, and 
 many other, he was in nianer compelled and constrained 
 to take a peace, and conclude an aniitie with kyng 
 Charles." And further Hall says: "This letter was not 
 alitle loked on, nor smally regarded of the kyng of Eng- 
 land, and his sage cousaill: not onely for tlie waightines 
 of the matter, but also for the sodain chaunge of the 
 man, and for the strauge sui)erscripcion of the letter, 
 which was: To the high and mightie Prince, Henry, by 
 the grace of GoD Kyng of Englande, his Welbeloued 
 cosyn : Neither uaniyng hjiu kyng of Fraunce, nor his 
 souereigue lorde, accordyng as, (euer before that tyme) 
 he was accustomed to do. AAherfore all they, whiche 
 wer present, beyng sore nioued with the craftie deede. 
 and vntrue demeanor of the duke, (wlioni they so mucin- 
 trusted) could neither temper their passions, nor moder- 
 ate their yre, nor yet biidlc their toungues: but openly 
 called hym traytor, deceiuer, and most inconstant 
 prince " (p. 177). 
 
 188. Line 175: Prettily, methovght, did play the orator. 
 — This is a very awkward and inharmonious line. Pope 
 inserted most before Prettibi. I would projiose to read 
 (omitting methuught): 
 
 R'i;!'l prettily did play the orator. 
 
 189. Line 180: An if I wist he did,— but let it rrst.—'Ff. 
 read : "And if I wish he did ;" the emendation isCapell's. 
 Wist is the preterite tense of the old verb to wit [not as 
 erroneously stated by some commentators of / wis, there
 
 ACT IV. Scene 2. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 being no such veih, but I wis being "the adverb T-u'is, 
 i-icfs " (see Imperial Diet. sub. wis)]. To u'it is connected 
 with the GeDuan wisscn, to l<now, and comes direct from 
 tile AngIo-.Sa.\oii witan, to know. Sliakespeare uses the 
 verb to wit in tliis same play, above, ii. 5. 16: 
 As iii/fin^' I no other comfort have; 
 
 and again in Pericles, iv. 4. 31, 32 : 
 
 Now please you 7vi( 
 The epit.iph is for Marina writ. 
 
 The sense evidently demands some such alteration as 
 C.well made. Johnson's attempt to explain the meaning 
 of the te,\t, as it stands in F. 1, is not very successful. 
 (See Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 111.) We have punctuated the 
 passage as Capell did, following the Cambridge edn. and 
 Dyce. Theoliald would read: "And, if I wis, he did—" 
 explaining it : " Nay, if I knovr anything, he did think 
 harm in answer to the last sentence of the preceding 
 speech of Warwick." 
 
 J.CO. Lines 187-101: 
 
 But hoxvsoe'er, no simi^le man that sees 
 This jarrinij discord of nobiliti/, 
 
 But that it doth presage some ill event. 
 The construction of this sentence is certainly obscure. 
 JIany emendations have been proposed in the last line ; 
 that generally adopted being the substitution of he for 
 it, which is Rowe's; F. 3, F. 4 have "By that it," which 
 certainly does not help the sense. The best conjecture 
 is an anonymous one, mentioned by the Cambridge edi- 
 tors, "But thinks it does, &c." It is better, however, to 
 take the passage as being elliptical in construction; the 
 meaning being: "No man, how e\e,T simple, that sees this 
 jarring discord, &c. &c. but sees (also), or feels that it 
 doth presage, &c. &c. 
 
 ACT IV. SCE.NK 2. 
 
 191. Lines 10-13: 
 
 You tempt the fury of my three attendants. 
 Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; 
 Who, in a moment, even with the earth 
 Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers. 
 
 Compare Henry V. Prologue i. 6-8: 
 
 and at liis heels, 
 Leasli'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, 
 Crouch for employment. 
 
 The close similarity of the two passages is worth noticing; 
 but the whole of this scene, short as it is, bears evident 
 marks of Sliakespeare's hand. Both these passages are 
 evidently founded upon the following passage in Hall 
 (p. 85), copied as usual by Holinshed: "The goddesse of 
 warre called Bellona (whiche is the correctrice of princes 
 for right witholdyng or iniurie doying, and the plage of 
 God for euil liuyng and vntrue demeanor amongest stib- 
 iectes) hath the.=e . iii. handmaides euer of necessitie 
 attendyng on her, blond, fyre, and famine, whiche thre 
 damosels be of that force and strength that euery one of 
 them alone is able and sufficient to turment an<l afflict a 
 proud prince : and they all ioyned together are of puis- 
 sance to destroy the most populous countrey and most 
 richest region of the world. " 
 VOL. I. 
 
 192. Line 14: If yon forsake the offer of OVR lbve.—¥(. 
 read their; the correction is Hanmer's. 
 
 193. Line 15: Thou ominous and fearful uivl of death. 
 —The association of the cry of the owl with the forebod- 
 ing of death is alluded to in Richard III. iv. 4. 509: 
 
 Out on you, owlsl nothing but si»'£-s of death 1 
 
 in Macbeth, ii. 2. 3, 4: 
 
 It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman. 
 Which gives the stern'st g:ood-nig]it ; 
 
 and in Lucrece, line 165: 
 
 N'o noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries. 
 
 194. Line 34: That I, thy enemy, DUE thee withal. ~F! 
 have deiv, which may possibly be the right reading. Due 
 for endue is not used by Shakespeare elsewhere. He uses 
 the verb to dew several times, though never in a tropical 
 sense; but if dew be retained it is worth while to com- 
 pare Coriolanus, v. 6. 23: 
 
 He water'd liis new plants with derrs of flattery. 
 
 It seems most probable that, if due be the right reading, 
 it is not meant as a shortened form of endue, but as a 
 verb equal to give what is due. 
 
 195. Line 42: He FABLES not.— It is curious that this 
 verb is used by Milton, in the well known passage in 
 Comus, when the lady refutes the enchanter's arguments. 
 After her beautiful speech, Comus says (lines 800, SOI): 
 
 Sheyafiles not, I feel that I do fear 
 
 Her words set off by some superior power. 
 
 Shakespeare uses the verb, in the limited sense of "to 
 tell fables," in III. Henry VI. v. 5. 25: 
 
 Let .■Esopyii/'.V in a winter's night. 
 
 196. Line 47: Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French 
 ct(rs. — This word is generally explained as^amazed; but 
 it may mean "surrounded by a maze," out of which it was 
 impossible to escape. 
 
 197. Line 54: dear deer.— The same pun is found in 
 Love's Labour 's Lost, iv. 1. 115, in Yenus and Adonis (line 
 231), and in several other passages. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 3. 
 
 198. There seems to be no historical foundation for the 
 supineness, or treachery, of which 'V'ork in this scene ac- 
 cuses Somerset. John Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset of 
 this play, died in 1444; so that, as Talliot was killed in 
 battle in 1453, it must have been Edmund, the brother of 
 John Beaufort, who is the Duke of Somerset of the next 
 play. He was appointed regent in France in 1445, in the 
 place of the Duke of York ; having, it was alleged, ob- 
 tained the office by the help of Suffolk. In 1453 he was 
 High Constable of England; and in the previous year was 
 accused by the Duke of York of "treason, briberie, op- 
 pression and manie other crimes" (Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 
 2:33). The king had already promised tlie regency of 
 France to the Duke of York for another term of five years. 
 The successful intrigue, by which Somerset sujiplanted 
 him, incensed the duke's enmity, already bitter enough 
 against his rival. Probably the historical fact, upon which 
 this scene is founded, is the alleged weakness of Somerset 
 in yielding up the town of Caen, iu 1450, to the Fiench, 
 
 337 22
 
 ACT IV. t<ceiie a. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 ftijaiiist the wish of Sir David ilall, wlio had been left as 
 captain of the town by tlie Dulve of York. Somerset was 
 induced to commit this ait of weal<ness by the entreaties 
 of Iiis wife, wlio, witli her cliildren, liad a narrow escape 
 of being killeil by a stone shot into tlie town. Sir David 
 JIall remonstrated most strongly with Somerset, main- 
 taining that without the permission of his lord and mas- 
 ter. Richard Duke of York, the town could not be sur- 
 rendered; but at last, according to Hall, (p. 215) "this 
 capitain perceiuyng, that neither his woordes serued, nor 
 his truthe toward his master preuailed, bad the duke of 
 Somerset do what he list, for he would in no wise be 
 named in y' composicio. 'J'lien the duke jiartely to please 
 the tounes men, but more desirous to please the duches 
 his wife, made an agremeut witli the Frenche kyng, that 
 he would rendre the tonne, so that he and all his, might 
 depart in sauegard with all their goodes and substauuce: 
 v.iiiche offre, tlic Frenche Kyng gladly accepted and al- 
 lowed, knowyng that by force, he might lenger haue 
 longed for the strong toune, then to haue possessed 
 thesame so sone. After this conclusion taken, sir Dauie 
 Ilalle, with diuerse other of his trustie fredes, departed 
 to Chierbur^e, and from thence sailed into Irelande, to 
 the duke of Yorke, makyng relacion to hym of all these 
 <Iooynges: whiclie thyng kyndeled so greate a rancore in 
 his harte and stomacke that he neuer lefte persecutyng 
 of the Duke of Soniersette, till he had brought hym to 
 his fatall poynt, and extreme confusion." It may be 
 observed that, judging Ijy York's own conduct in this 
 scene, he was quite as much to blame as S(mierset for not 
 going to Talbot's help. Both this scene and the following 
 (ine show, on the part of the dramatist, no little ingenu- 
 ity in setting forth so effectively the fatal results of the 
 je.ilousies and cjuarrels between the various lords, frcm 
 wliich resulted the disastrous and bloody civil war known 
 as The Wars of the Hoses 
 
 199. Line 13: louted. ~\a.uoiis meanings have been as- 
 signed to this word. Johnson in his note suggests that It 
 may mean "lowered," "dishonoured." Steevens gives 
 "subdued," "vanquished;" but from a passage in Kalph 
 Roister Doister, iii. 3: 
 
 Wlicreas a good gander, I dare say, may him beat 
 And where he is loiiUd and laughed to scorn, 
 Tor the veriest dolt tliat ever was born. 
 
 — Uodsley's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 103; 
 
 as well as from two or three passages ((Uoted from various 
 authors, the word seems evidently to have the meaning 
 assigned to it in our foot-note. 
 
 200. Line 51: That ever livinij iii'tn nf memory. — Lett- 
 soni suggests that we should reail: 
 
 Tliat man of ever living iiieniory. 
 
 But it is hardly worth while to disturb the order of the 
 \vord.s, the meaning being: "That man who lives forever 
 in our memory." For a similar misplacement of ei)ithets, 
 see Richard II. note 233 ; also above, note 174. 
 
 ACT IV. SCKNE 4. 
 
 201. Line 13: Whither, my lord!— from buiiylit and sold 
 Lord Talbot. -F. 1 has Whether. Dyce reads Hither, fol- 
 lowing Pope. Surely the repetition of Whither is the 
 
 338 
 
 better reading, and more like the original. There is no 
 note of interrogation after the sentence in the Folio. 
 F'or bought and nold as a proverbial expression = " be- 
 trayed," see Comedy of Errors, note 07. 
 
 202. Line IC: his iccak leyions.~Ft. have regions, cor- 
 rected by Rowe. 
 
 203. Line 19: And, in ADVANTAGE lingering, looks for 
 re*f?(c. - Staunton conjectures "disadvantage." John- 
 son's e.xiilanation is: "Protracting his resistance by the 
 advantage of a strong post;" and Malone adds: " Or, per- 
 haps, endeavouring by every means that he can, with 
 advantage to himself, to linger out the actiou" (Var. Ed. 
 vol. .wiii. p. 120). Dyce prints disadvantage, and in his 
 noteon this passage, vol. v. p. 00, quotes Lettsom: "John- 
 son's explanation of the old reading is against the course 
 of events as described in this play. ' It certainly does not 
 seem, from the detailed account which Hall gives of the 
 circumstances preceding the engagement so fatal to Tal- 
 bot, that he, at any time, held any pusition in which he 
 awaited reinforcements; in fact he.aii])ears all throughout 
 to have been, not the attacked, l)ut the attacker. After 
 he had retaken Bordeaux, his son and other lords arrived 
 from England with 2200 men and supplies; and Talbot 
 immediately assumed the offensive. Charles had two 
 armies in the field, one of which marched against Bor- 
 deaux, while with part of the other he besieged the 
 town of Chfltillon in Pdrigord. Talbot immediately de- 
 termined to attack the smaller of the two hostile ai'mies 
 first. He left the bulk of his fences, under the command 
 of the Earl of Ivendale, with dii'ections to f(dlow him as 
 (juickly as possible. Having taken one of the enemy's 
 outposts, and routed a small body of 000 men, he attacked 
 the French in a very strong intrenched position, in which 
 they had more than 300 pieces of ordinance. Talbot ap- 
 pears to have had only 800 cavalry with hiu), whom he 
 <lismounted, himself remaining on horseback on account 
 of his age. To attack so strong a position without wait- 
 ing for his reinforcements was a very heroic feat, but. at 
 the same time, a very serious strategic mistake ; and for 
 the fatal result he hud no one but himself to blame. 
 
 204. Line 2G: Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Bur- 
 gundy. -So F. 2, F. 3, F. 4: F. 1 omits the and. 
 
 205. Line 31: his levied }wrse.—F(. read (substantially) 
 host; which may be tlie right reading, as, above line 23, 
 we have : 
 
 The In'ifd succinirs that sliould lend him aid. 
 
 But it is much more probable that the author intended 
 to write horse, in accordance with York's speech aljove, 
 sc. 3, lines 9-11: 
 
 A plague upon that villain Somerset, 
 
 That thus delays my promised supply 
 
 Oi horsemen, that were levied for this siege 
 
 and with Somerset's answer (line 33, below): 
 
 York lies; he might have sent and had tlie horse. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 5. 
 
 206. Line 29: But, if I haw, they'll say it was for fear.— 
 If this, the reading of Ff. be right, how must mean "yield," 
 give way under pressure, as in Sonnet xc. 3: 
 
 Join with tlic spite of fortune, make nie ^o^t'.
 
 ACT IV. .Scene 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY VI.— PAET I. 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 
 
 Again, in Sonnet cxx. 3 : 
 
 Needs must I under luy transgression d07v. 
 
 But I liad noted (jo, in the margin, as a probable reading 
 before 1 saw tliat it is given in tlie Long MS. It is ex- 
 tremely probable that tlie author really wrote go, both 
 because above, in line 11, Tall)otsays: "come, dally not, 
 be fjone;" and again below, line 30: 
 
 Upon my blessing, I command th&Qg^o. 
 
 Go is in ijerfect contrast with istay in the next line. 
 Walker proposes also the same reading. 
 
 207. Lines 34-42.— This is an instance of wljat is called 
 in Greek a-i-ixof^'-'O'a, i. e. dialogue in alternate lines, a 
 very favourite trick in Greek Tragedy, and one wliich we 
 find much imitated in the early Englisli dramatic writers. 
 Sliakespeare does not ever resort to it, except in his 
 earlier plays. The most noteworthy instance is in Rich- 
 ard III. iv. 343-367; and in The Two Gent, of Verona, i. -2, 
 and in many scenes in the Comedy of Errors, other in- 
 stances will be found. Lilly introduced a modification 
 of a-nxoH-tjU'i' in dialogues coTisisting of one short sentence, 
 on the part of each speaker, in prose. This Shakespeare 
 imitates frequently ; especially in his early plays. The 
 old play (if it can be called a play) of The Pardoner and 
 the Friar, 1521, by John Heywood, contains pages of this 
 o-7(;^o^u&.'«. Sometimes the rhyme is in alternate lines, 
 sometimes in consecutive lines. Where such instances 
 are found in old English plays, they are generally in 
 rliyme, as of course the use of rhymed decasyllabic lines 
 is earlier tlian the use of blank verse. The objection to 
 the use of a-Tixoy-'jOia., whether in its original classic form 
 or in the modified form introduced by Lilly, is that it 
 causes the author to strive after epigrammatic e.vpres- 
 sions, and to attempt to be witty at the expense of 
 naturalness. 
 
 208. Lines 52, 53 : 
 
 Then here I take my leave of thee, fail- .son, 
 Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
 
 There is apparently a quibble intended on son and sun 
 
 here, however out of place it may seem in such a passage. 
 
 Shakespeare appears to have been rather partial to this 
 
 quibble. Compare Richard III. i. 3. 267: 
 
 ^V'itness my son, now in the shade of death, 
 
 where it is introduced with etjual impropriety. 
 
 ACT lY. Scene G. 
 
 209. Line 44: On that advantage, bought ivith nuch a 
 shame.— Heveral unnecessary emendations of this word 
 liave been proposed. The meaning of this and the three 
 following lines is plain. He means: "Before I will secure 
 the adcantage of continuing our houseliold's name bought 
 with such a shame as tlie desertion of my father, I wish 
 my liorse may fall dead under me." Talbot liad two sur- 
 viving sons by his first wife, and two more sons, besides 
 tliis John Talbot, by Ids second wife, so that the speaker 
 was not in any sense an only son. 
 
 210. Line 48: And like me to the 2M'asant boys of France. 
 —Compare II. Henry IV. ii. 1. <I7, 98: "when the jirince 
 briike thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of 
 Windsor" (according to the Quarto; Ff. have lik'ning). 
 
 ACT IV. Scene 7. 
 
 211. Tliis pathetic scene, as also the preceding one, are 
 founded on Hall's vivid account of Talbot's death: "This 
 coflicte continued in doubtfull iudgement of victory, ii. 
 longe houres: durynge which fight the lordesof Montam- 
 Ijan and Humadayre, with a great companye of French- 
 men entered the battayle, and began a new felde, and 
 sodaynly the Gonners perceiuynge tlie Englishmen to 
 approche iiere, discharged tlieir ordinaunce, and slew, 
 iii. C. persons, nere to the erle, who perceiuynge the immi- 
 nent ieopardy, and subtile labirynth, in the which he and 
 hys people were enclosed and illaqueate, despicynge liis 
 awne sauegarde, and desirynge tlie life of his entierly and 
 welbeloued sonne the lord Lisle, willed, aduertised, and 
 counsailled hyni to departe out of tlie felde, and to saue 
 liyni selfe. But whe the sonne had auswered that it was 
 neither honest nor natural for him, to leue his father in 
 the extreme ieopardye of his life, and tliat he woulde 
 taste of that draught, wliich his father and Tarent should 
 assay and begyn: Tlie noble erle and comfortable capi- 
 tayn sayd to him: Oil sonne sonne, I tliy father, which 
 on ly hath bene the terror and scourge of the P'rech 
 people so many yeres, which hath subuerted so many 
 townes, and profligate and discomfited so many of them 
 in open battayle, and marcial conflict, neither ca here 
 dye, for the honor of my countrey, without great lau<le 
 and perpetnall fame, nor flye or departe without per 
 petuall shame and cotinualle infamy. But because tliis 
 is tliy first iourney and enterprise, neitlier thy flyeng 
 shall redounde to thy slianie, nor thy death to thy glory: 
 for as hardy a man wisely flietli, as a temerarious person 
 folisliely abidethe, therefore y^ fleyiig of me slialbe y= dis- 
 honor, not only of me and my progenie, but also a discom- 
 fiture of all my company: thy departure shall saue thy 
 lyfe, and make the able another tyme, if I be slayn to 
 reuenge my death and to do honor to thy Prince and 
 profyt to his Realme. But nature so wrought in tlie 
 Sonne, that neither desire of lyfe, nor thought of se- 
 curitie, could withdraw nr pluck hini fro his natural 
 father : Who cosideryng the constancy of his chyld, and 
 the great daunger that they stode in, comforted his soul- 
 diours, cheared his Capitayns, and valeautly set on his 
 enemies, hauyng a greater company of men, and more 
 abiidaunce of ordinaunce then before liad bene sene in a 
 battayle, fyist shot him through tlie thyglie with a had- 
 gone, and slew his horse, and cowardly killed him, lyenge 
 on the ground, whome they lieuer durste loke in tlie face, 
 whyle he stode on his fete, and with him, there dyed 
 manfully hys sonne the lord Lisle, his bastard sonne 
 Henry Talbot, and syr Edward Hull, elect to tlie noble 
 order of the Gartier, and . xxx. valeant personages of the 
 English nacioii, and the lord Molyns was there taken 
 prysoner with . Ix. other" (p. 229). 
 
 Hall's account of Talbot's death was confirmed most 
 curiously by an examination of the bones of Talbot (see 
 above, note 119). On the occasion of their reinterment, 
 tlie thigh bones were found to be uninjured; so tliat it 
 is evident that the shot which first disaldcd him did not 
 fracture tlie bone. But "Immediately behind the right 
 parietal eminence of the cranium was a perpendicular 
 339
 
 ACT IV. Scene 7. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 fiacture, evidently caused by a sharp instrument. It was 
 •2\'m. long, and in the centre § of au inch across " (" Talbot's 
 Tonili," itc, by Rev. W. H. Kjcertou. Transactions of 
 Shmpshire Arcliwological Society, June 1885, p 113). This 
 was the blow on the head, struclc from behind, wlien he 
 was lycHfje on the (jroiaul, probably with a battle a.\e. 
 The skeleton of a mouse was found along with tlie bones 
 of the great warrior, and in the skull was the nest of the 
 little intruder with "tliree small mummied mice "still 
 in it; tlie mother had used the opening made in the 
 cranium by the battle akv as a means of ingress and 
 egress. That the mouse had chosen this odd spot for lier 
 nest, after tlie removal of the body from Rouen to Whit- 
 cliiirch, was proved by the fact of some portions of an 
 Englisli prayer book being found therein {Ut t^upra, pp. 
 14, 28). 
 
 212. Line 3: Triumphant death, gmear'd with captivit//. 
 — This line seems to have exercised the understandings of 
 some of the commentators. The explanation of siiiear'il, 
 given in our foot-note, is probably the right one. Walker 
 asks, "Can any sense be made out of this line?" to which 
 Professor F. A. Leo thus makes answer: " I believe Death 
 here to be represented in the appearance of a warrior. 
 In the same way as tlie Indian war-tribes are accustomed 
 even to-day to appear in the battle (smearing their body 
 with the slain enemies' blood, in order to make a more 
 horrid impression on their foes), and as our Teutonic an- 
 cestors appeared, Death is supposed to go triumi)liantly 
 over the battle field, smeared with the terrible aspect of 
 captivity ; terrible even for those who are happy enough 
 to escape the sword of deatli" (Shakespeare, notes, p. 17). 
 'This is a truly leonine explanation. As Clarke justly ob- 
 serves: "The construction of this sentence is so 'forced 
 and cramp' that it may either signify 'Death, thou who 
 art stained with captivity,' or 'Death, stained as I aui 
 with captivity, my son's valour enaliles me to smile at 
 thee'" (voL ii. p. 342). 
 
 213 Line 10: 'Tend'HINO jny ruin. — Tenderiiirf is usu- 
 ally explained as in our foot-note ; but it may mean 
 ■• caring for me in my ruin." We have, in II. Henry VI. 
 
 iii. 1. 277: 
 
 I teiiiier so tlie safety of my liejje. 
 
 214 Lille 18: Thou A'STTC death, which laugli'at us here 
 to scorn. —Compare Richard II. iii. 2. 1G2-105: 
 
 and there the n>i/ic {i.e. Death) sits 
 Scoffing^ his state, and grinning at his pomp, 
 Alloivinj; him a breath, a little scene, 
 Tu juonarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks. 
 
 215. Line 21: lither «/-i/. —Walker would read hither; 
 but lilher seems to have meant originally '-soft," "yield- 
 in^;" and, secondlj-, "weak," "lazy," "depraved." 
 
 216. Line 35: rat/ing-u'ood.—Seo Mids. Xight's Dream, 
 note 114. 
 
 217. Line 41: GIGLOT «'t'»ic/). — Shakespeare uses this 
 Word in two other passages : as a substantive, in Measure 
 for Measure, v. 1. 3.52, and as an adjective, in Cynibeline, 
 iii. 1. 31. The derivation of the word seems to be uncer- 
 tain, whether it be the diminutive form of (jig. or derived 
 from fji'jgle. As young 'Talbot's death took place twenty- 
 two years after the execution of Joan of Arc, and during 
 
 340 
 
 her lifetime he could not have lieen old enough to bear 
 arms, she could never have encountered him in single 
 combat. Probably the author confused him with his 
 elder half-brother, John Talbot, who succeeded his fatlier 
 as second Earl of Shrewsbury, and who was at this time 
 forty years old. 
 
 218. Line 70: Great marshal to oUK King Henry the 
 Sixth.— So ¥. 2 ; F. 1 omits our king. 
 
 219. Line 7(5: Stinking and fly-blown, lies here at our 
 feet. —The author might have spare<l us these repulsive 
 words ; for, even in the hottest climate, the body of Talbot 
 could not have become corrupt in so short a time. 
 
 220. Line 91. — F. 2 makes act v. begin in the middle 
 of the last scene immediately after Talbot's death where 
 the Dauphin and others enter. 
 
 221. Line 91, 02: 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
 Lucy. / 'II hear them hence; 
 
 But from their MKillTV ashes shall be rear'd. — 
 Ff. have : 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
 
 Lucy. I "11 bear them hence, but from tlieir ashes shall be rear'd. 
 Various emendations have been matle in order to com- 
 plete the metre. Tope prints Dauphin. Dyce adopts 
 Lettsom's emendation : 
 
 But doubt not from their ashes shall be rear'il. 
 
 The emendation we have ventured to make is based on 
 the sujiposition that some epithet to ashes has dropped 
 out of the text. 
 
 222. Line 94 : Ho we he rid of them, do what thuv wilt.— 
 F. 1 has : 
 
 Sn we be rid of them, do witli /;;;« wliat thou wilt. 
 F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 : 
 
 So we be rid of them, do with them what thou wih. 
 
 It seems a pity to spoil the line by leaving in the two 
 words with them, wliich are utterly unnecessary. 
 
 ACT V. SCKXK ]. 
 
 223. Lines 1, 2: 
 
 //are you perus'd the letters from the pojje, 
 The emperor and the Earl of Armagnacl 
 This probably refers to two attemjits on the iiart of the 
 pope to put au end to the disastrous war between Eng- 
 land and France. One was made a year after the king's 
 coronation. Hall, after describing tlie terrible sufferings 
 which the war inflicted upon both nations, says (p. 1(5(1): 
 "for whiche cause Euginye tlie fourth, beyn'_' bisliopp of 
 Rome, intendyng to bryng this cruel warre, to a frendly 
 peace, sent his Legate, called Nicolas, Cardinall of the 
 holy crosse, into Fraunce to thentent to make an aniitie, 
 and a concord betwene the two princes and their realmes. 
 Tliis wise cardinall, came first to the Frenche kyng, and 
 after to the duke of Bedford beyng at Paris: exhortyng 
 concord, and persuadyng vnitie. shewyng, deelaryng and 
 arguyng, peace to be nioste honorable and more profitable 
 to christian princes, then inortall wane, or vncliaritable 
 (liscencion;"and further on he says: "Tlie Cardinal beyng 
 in vtter dispaire, of cocludyug a peace betwene the two
 
 ACT V. Scene 1. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Sceue 3. 
 
 realnies, (least he should seme to departe empty of all 
 thyiiges, for the whiclie he had taken so miiche trauaill) 
 desired a truce for sixe yeres tn come, which re(iuest, as 
 it was to him, by bothe parties liardly graunted, so was it 
 of the Frenchmen, sone and lightly broken, after his re- 
 turne. " So doubt the principal refeience is to the Coun- 
 cil of Arras. (See above, note 172.) It was after this Council 
 of Arras that the Duke of Burgundy deserted the English 
 alliance and was reconciled to France. There is no men- 
 tion of the Earl of Armagnac, either in Hall or Holinshed, 
 as having been present at the council. 
 
 224 Lines 15-20.— This offer on the part of the Earl of 
 Armagnac was not made till later in 1442. The account 
 given by Holinshed is as follows: " He (Armagnac) sent 
 solemne ambassadours to the king of England, offering 
 liim his daughter in mariage, with promise to be bound 
 (beside great sunimes of monie, which he would giue 
 with hir) to deliuer into the king of Englands hands, all 
 such castels and townes, as he or his ancestors deteined 
 from him within anie part of the duchie of Aquitaine, 
 either by conquest of his progenitors, or l)y gift and de- 
 liuerie of anie French king: and further to aid the same 
 king with nionie for the recouerie of other cities within 
 the same duchie, from the French king; or from anie 
 other person that against king Henrie vniustliekept, and 
 wrongfuUie withholden them" (vol. iii. p. 205). 
 
 225. Line 17: near Kix to Charles.— ¥t. have knit; the 
 correction is Pope's. The Cambridge editors defend the 
 reading of the Ff. knit (vol. v, note vi. p. 104): "as the con- 
 ceit suggested by the 'knot of amity,' in the preceding 
 line, is not alien from the author's manner." On the 
 other hand, Dyce says that Icnlt is a mistake, evidently 
 occasioned by the knot just above, and we agree with the 
 latter. I'ope's emendation is a very plausible one, and, as 
 the retention of knit makes a weak and cacophonous line, 
 we do not scruple to adopt it. 
 
 226. Line 21: Marriage! alas, uncle, my years are 
 Huiuirj .'—The king was, as Malone points out, twenty-four 
 years old when he married; but when his marriage with 
 the daughter of Armagnac was first proposed, he had only 
 just completed his twenty-first year. 
 
 227. Lines 28, 29: 
 
 What! is my lord of Winchester instalVd, 
 A nd call'd unto a cardinal's degree! 
 This is an undoubted discrepancy, implying great care- 
 lessness on the part of the author, in giving the Bishop 
 of Winchester the title of cardinal in act i. sc. 3, while he 
 is only called jirelate in act iii. sc. 1, and hishop in act iv. 
 sc. 1, and making him here apparently for the first time 
 invested with the dignity of cardinal. According to his- 
 tory, although he was named cardinal in 1417, in the 
 reign of Henry V., Archbishop Cliichely, who was jealous 
 of him, per.'iiiMik'd the king to forbid Beaufort to accept 
 the dignity ottered him, and he did not ol)tain the royal 
 license to accept the preferment until 1426. He was ap- 
 pointed one of the representatives of the King of England 
 at the Congress of Arras in 1435: but he does not appear 
 to have been one of the commissioners for peace in the 
 diet called together at Tours, at which .Suffolk represented 
 
 the king. It is useless to attempt to assign the exact 
 year to the events of this act, as it contains a mixtuie of 
 incidents which really occurred in the years 1435, 1442, 
 and 1444 respectively. 
 
 228. Lines 31-33 : 
 
 Henry the Fifth did sometime ^jniphesy. — 
 " // once he come to he a cardinal, 
 He'll make his cap coequal with the crown. " 
 The foundation for this statement, here put into the 
 mouth of Exeter, seems to rest on the second article of 
 the complaint made against the cardinal by Gloucester in 
 the year 1441: "First, the cardinall then being bishop of 
 Winchester, tooke vpon him the state of cardinall, w hich 
 was naied and denaied him, by the king of most noble 
 memorie, my lord your father (whome God assoile) saieng 
 that he had as leefe set his crowne beside him, as see 
 him weare a cardinals hat, he being a cardinall" (Holin- 
 shed, vol. iii. p. 199). 
 
 229., Line 49: And safely hroughl to Dover; WHERE, 
 inshipp'd. — F. 1, F. 2, F. 3 have titere; the reading in our 
 text is that of F. 4. 
 
 230. Line 59; That, neither is. birth, or for authority.— 
 Johnson would rea<l "for birth." In order to make the 
 line scan we must make neither a monosyllable. I would 
 propose to read: 
 
 That nor in birth, nor in .Tutliority. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 2. 
 
 231. Line 12: Into two parts.— Ff. have parties; the 
 correction is Pope's. It is pretty evident that the error 
 arose from the is being mistaken by the transcriber as 
 belonging to the word parts. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 232.— As has been remarked in the Introduction, the first 
 part of this scene between Pucelle and the fiends seems 
 to have been "written in to please the vulgar," and is de- 
 cidedly inconsistent, in the main, with her character as 
 depicted by the dramatist. 
 
 233. Line 2: periapts. — 1\\ bk. 12, chap. i.x. KeginaM 
 Scot gives a number of "Popish 2}eriapts, amulets and 
 charmes." He says: "These vertues under these verses 
 (written by pope Urbane the fifth to the emperour of the 
 Grecians) are contained in a periapt or tablet, be con- 
 tinually worne about one, called Agnus Dei, which is a 
 little cake, having the picture of a lambe carrying of a 
 flag on the one side ; and Christs head on the other side, 
 and is hollow: so as the Gospel of S. lohn, written in fine 
 paper, is placed in the concavitie thereof: and it is thus 
 compounded or made, even as they themselves report." 
 
 He then gives eight lines of Latin verse "Englished by 
 Abraham Fleming." 
 
 " Bahne, virgine wax, and holy water."' 
 
 An Agnus Dei make: 
 
 A gift than wliicli none can be i;reater, 
 
 I send thee for to take. 
 
 From fountain clear the same hath issue. 
 
 In secret sanctified: 
 
 'Gainst lightning it have soveraigne vertue, 
 
 And thunder-crackes beside. 
 
 341
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 3. 
 
 Hach hainous siiine it weares and wastetli, 
 
 Even as Clirist's precious blood, 
 
 And women, whiles their travel lastctli, 
 
 It saves, it is so good. 
 
 It doth bestowe f;r<=3t gifts and graces. 
 
 On such as well deserve : 
 
 And borne about in noisome places. 
 
 From peril doth preserve. 
 
 The force of fire, wliose heat destroyeth, 
 
 It breaks .-ind bringeth down: 
 
 And he or she that this enjoyelh. 
 
 No water siiall them drowne. 
 
 — Kdn. 1654, pp. 166, 167. 
 
 234. Line fi: Under the lordly monarch 0/ the NORTH. 
 — By the vionarch of the north is meant the devil Zimi- 
 inar, "the king of the north." Scot says: "A Jlaynion, 
 king of tlie east, Corson king of the soutli, Zimiinar king 
 of the north, Goap king and prince of the west, may be 
 hound from the third lioure, till noone, and from the 
 ninth lioiire till evening" (bk. l.'i, chap. ii. p. 277). In 
 his prececUng chapter (p. 266) lie gives " an inventarie 
 of the names, shapes, powers, governement, and effects of 
 divels and spirits, of tlu'ir severall segniories and degrees. " 
 Most of these great spirits seem to have so many legions 
 under them, who obey them; btit Zimiinar does not ap- 
 pear to be described among them. He says in a note at 
 tlie end of this chapter that "a legion is G66G." Johnson 
 says: "Tlie north was always supposed to be the particular 
 habitation of ))ad spirits. Mdton, tlierefore, assembles 
 the rebel angels in the north " (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 139); 
 but according to Scot: "Their first and principal king 
 (which is of the power of the east) is called Saell " (bk. 15, 
 chap. ii. p. 266). It would seem that among the evil spirits 
 there were dukes and marquises, prelates, kniglits, and 
 presidents. 
 
 235. Lines 10, 11 : 
 
 Noiv, ye familiar spirits, that are c\:i,i,'T> 
 Out of the I'OWERFUL LEGION.S nudev earth. 
 Ff. have regions; but the e.\pressiou cull and the epithet 
 powerful surely point to legions, and not to regions, as 
 the right reading; it is Warburtou's correction. The 
 same mistake occurs above (iv. 4. 16): 
 
 To beat assailing death from his weak Ifgions (Ff. regions). 
 
 Tlie emendation of legions is also supported by three or 
 four passages quoted by Dyce in his note on this pas- 
 sage, e.g. Macbeth, iv. 3. 55-57 : 
 
 Not in the lej^ioiis 
 Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd, 
 In evils to top Macbeth. 
 
 He also gives an instance of the same misprint in Sliel- 
 ton's Don Quixote (I't. ii. chap. 46, p. 220, edn. 1652): 
 "And such was his ill lucke, ... it seem'd to him 
 that there were a Region of Diuels in his chamber." 
 
 236. Line 25: That France must VAIL her loftg-phtmed 
 <;r#s<.— Compare Merchant of Venice, i. 1. 27, 2S : 
 
 And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand. 
 Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs. 
 
 237. Excursions. Re-enter La Pucelle fighting hand to 
 hand with York: La Pucelle is taken. The French fly. - 
 In Ff. tlie stage-direction here is given: Enter Bukgun- 
 DIE and Yorke, fight hand to hand French Jiye. 
 
 342 
 
 238. Line 30. — The capture of .Joan of Arc is thus nar- 
 rated by Hall. "And it happened in tlie night of 
 the Assencioii of our lorde, that Potlion of Xeiitraxles, 
 lone the Puzell, and Hue or sixe hundred men of amies, 
 issued out of Chapeigne, by tlie gate of the biidge 
 towarde Mowntdedier, intendyng to set fire in the tentes 
 and lodgynges of the lord of Baudo, which was then 
 gone to Marigny, for the Duke of Burgoyns affaires. 
 At whiche tyine, sir Ihon of Lnxenborough, with eight 
 other gentlemen (which had riden aboute the tonne 
 to serche and vieue, in wliat place the tonne might l)e 
 most ai)tly and eonueiiiently assauted or scaled) were 
 come iiere to the lodges of the lorde of Baudo, wliere 
 they espied the Frenchmen, whiche began to cut doune 
 tentes, ouerthrowe pauilions, and kil men in tlieirbeddes. 
 Wherefore, shortely they assembled a great nombre of 
 men, as well Englislie as Burgonions, and coragiously set 
 on the Frenchmen. Sore was the fight and greate was tlie 
 slaughter, in so ninch that the F'renchemen, not able 
 lenger to iiidure, fled into the tonne so faste, that one 
 letted the otbir to entre. In whiclie cliace was taken, 
 lone the I'uzell, and diuerse otlier: whiche lone was sent 
 to tlie duke of Bedford to Roan, wher, (after log exanii- 
 naeio) she was brent to aslies" (pp. 156, 157). There seems 
 to be no ground for ascribing this act of valour to the 
 Duke of York. Monstrelet's account is as follows : 
 
 " .After some lime, the French, perceiving their enemies 
 multiply so fast on tlieni, retreated toward Compiegne, 
 leaving the Maid, who had remained to cover tlie rear, 
 anxious to l)ring back the men with little loss. But the 
 liurguudians, knowing that reinforcements were coming 
 to them from all quarters, pursued tlieni with redoubled 
 vigour, and cliarged them on the plain. In the conclu- 
 sion, as I was told, tlie Maid was dragged from herhoi'se 
 by an archer, near to whom was the bastard de Vend6ine, 
 and to him she surrendered and pledged her faith. He 
 lost no time in carrying her to Marigny, and put her 
 under a secure guard. With her was taken Poton the 
 Burgundian, and some others, but in no great number. 
 The French re-entered Compiegne doleful and vexed at 
 tlieir losses, more especially for the capture of .loan: 
 while, on the contrary, the English were rejoiced, and 
 more pleased than if they had taken five liundred other 
 conil)atants, for they dreaded no other leader or captain 
 so much as they had hitherto feared the Maid" (vol. i. 
 cliap. Ixxxvi. p. 572). Holinshed (vol. iii. p. 170) gives three 
 different accounts of Joan's capture ; but Monstrelet's 
 account is, no doubt, substantially correct. 
 
 239. Line 35: As if, with Circe, she would change my 
 s/(ape.'— Alluding to the mythological legend of Circe, 
 supposed to be the daughter of the sun by the ocean 
 nymph Perse; she lived in tlie island of OCcta. Slie changed 
 those persons, who were unfortunate enough to fall into 
 her power, into nnimals. Tlie story of the adventure of 
 Ulysses with tliis encliantress, and his amour witli her, 
 is given in the Tenth Book of Homer's Odyssey. 
 
 240. Line 45: lie ivhat thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. 
 --It is hardly necessary to say that Suffolk nev( r took 
 JIargaret prisoner. It was in 1430 tliat Jo.an was cap- 
 tured; but not until 1444, when representing the king at 
 the Diet lield at Tours, that Suffolk took upon himself
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 to negotiate the marriage between Margaret of Aujou 
 and Henry VI. 
 
 241. Lines 47-49 : 
 
 For I will touch thee but with reverent havds. 
 And lay them gently on thy tender aide. 
 I kiss these fingers fur eternal peace. 
 In Ff. these lines run tlius: 
 
 For I will touch thee but with reuercnd hands, 
 I kisse these fingers for eternall peace. 
 And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
 
 The transposition was made by Capell. The reason for 
 the transposition is that Suffollc, according to the arrange- 
 ment of the Ff., is made to Iciss his own fingers; "a sym- 
 bol of peace," says Malone, "of wliich there is, I believe, 
 no example." On the other hand, those who defend the 
 reading of the old copies say that Suffolk is supposed to 
 kiss Margaret's hand, and to lay it gently back by her side; 
 but surely it is much more natural, as he is supposed to 
 be bringing her in prisoner, that he should have his arm 
 round her, as if supporting her. 
 
 242. Line 68 : Hast not a tongue i is she not here THY 
 PRISONER?— F. 1 omits these words, which were added 
 by F. 2. Lettsom suggests: "Perhaps the author wrote 
 ' here in place,' or ' here beside thee;' at any rate he could 
 scarcely have written what the second folio ascribes to 
 him" (Walker, vol. iii. p. 152). AVe agree with Dyee in 
 thinking that this objection has not much force. 
 
 243. Line 71 : Confounds the tongue, and makes the 
 senses ROUGH.— There have been several emendations 
 proposed in this line. Hanmer suggests "makes the 
 senses crouch" instead of rough, which Dyce adopts. 
 Collier coolly altered it to " inocks the sense of touch." 
 Schmidt explains it: "disturbs them like a troubled 
 water, ruffles them." May not rough here be taken as 
 the opposite to fitie, t!ie meaning being that the effect 
 of beauty, instead of sharpening the senses, makes them 
 dull and rorighi 
 
 244. Lines 77, 78 : 
 
 She 's beautiful, and therefore to be ivoo'd; 
 She is a ivoman, therefore to be icon. 
 
 These lines occur with very little variation in Titus An- 
 dronicus, ii. 1. 82, 83: 
 
 She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
 
 She is a woman, therefore may be won. 
 
 Steevens says that the latter line "seems to be a pro- 
 verbial line, and occurs in Greene's Planetoniacliia, 1585" 
 (Var. Ed. vol. xviii. p. 143). 
 
 245. Line 83: there lies a cooling card.— Clarke (p. 
 347) explains this expression thus: "A card so decisive 
 as to cool the courage of an adversary; metaphorically, 
 something to damp or overwhelm the hopes of an ex- 
 pectant." AVe have in The Antiquary (1641), v. 1: "Are 
 you so hot? I shall give you a card to cool you presently" 
 (Dodsley, vol. xiii. p. 505); and in Sir Gyles Goosecappe, 
 ii. 1: "their livers were too hot, you know, and for tem- 
 per sake tliey must needs have a cooling carde plaid 
 upon them " (BuUen's Old Plays, vol. iii. p. 37). 
 
 246. Line 89: tush, that's a WOODEN thing!- This is the 
 only instance of Shakespeare using the word wooden 
 
 in this peculiar sense. It may either mean "That is a 
 u'ooden, i.e. a stupid thing to do," much as we talk now- 
 adays of any dense person being "wooden headed; " or it 
 may possibly mean that the king was a "mere block of 
 wood" incapable of love. None of the instances given 
 by Steeveus in his note seem very much to the point; nor 
 has he succeeded in coming across any instance of this 
 exact phrase. Tlie following passage from Middleton's 
 The Wisdom of Solomon Paraphrased (lines 17-li)) illus- 
 trates this meaning of wooden: 
 
 Conceiving folly in a foolish brain, 
 Taught and instructed in a wooden school. 
 
 \\'hich made his head run of a ivoodett vein. 
 — Works, vol. V. p. 445 ; 
 
 referring to the making of wooden idols. The double 
 sense of the word here is clearly intended. 
 
 247. Line 120: // thou wilt condescend to— .—Ft. 1, F. 2, 
 F. 3 have " to be my;" F. 4 "to my." The emendation is 
 Steevens's. The words be my are superfluous. 
 
 248. Line 154: the COUNTIES Maine and Anjou.—yiaine 
 is called both by Hall and Holinshed "tlieco!(?i/i/ Maine." 
 Ff. ha.\e country; the alteration is Theobald's. 
 
 249. Line 179: Words sweetly plac'd and modestly di- 
 rected. — F. 1 has modestie; the correction is made in F. 2. 
 
 250. Line 192: AND natural graces that extinguish art. 
 — F. 1 has mad; F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 made. Pope prints her; 
 but we prefer Mason's conjecture and, which we have 
 adopted, as being the word most likely to be mistaken 
 for mad. Steevens defends the reading of F. 1, supposing 
 mad to = " wild," "uncultivated;" but even in that sense 
 the word seems completely out of place. 
 
 ACT V. ScKNE 4. 
 
 251. Line 2: this kills thy father's heart. — Compare 
 Richard II. v. 1. 97-100: 
 
 Give nie mine own again; 't were no good part 
 To take on me to keep and itM thy heart. 
 So, now I have mine own again, be gone, 
 That I may strive to kill it with a groan. 
 
 The expression to kill one's heart means " to cause great 
 grief" or "distress." 
 
 252. Line 7: Decrepid miser .'—For an instance of iniser 
 = miserable creature, compare Tlie Contention between 
 Liberality and Prodigality (1602), i. 6 : 
 
 That misers can advance to dignity. 
 And princes turn to misers' misery. 
 
 — Dodsley, vol. viii. p. 342. 
 
 253. Lines 7-9.— We have already remarked in the In- 
 troduction on the gross inconsistency of Joan's repudi- 
 ating her parents, and claiming to be of noble birth, as 
 she does here, after her own declaration of her humble 
 origin. (See above, i. 2. 72-75.) In fact the whole of this 
 scene is contemptible, with the exception of Joan's 
 speech (lines 36-53). 
 
 254. Line IS: God knows thou art a COLLOP of my flesh. 
 — Sliakespeare only uses collop in one other passage, 
 namely, in Winter's Tale, i. 2. 137, where Polixenes says 
 of his son; "Most dear'st! my collop!" There is great 
 
 34.3
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 4. 
 
 difTeifiit-e of opinion as to tlie oiigin of this word. Rich- 
 aid-on derives it from to colluw or colly, i.e. " to make 
 black with coal;" and quotes Cotgrave, who gives: "char- 
 bonner, is to collow, or make black with a coal." But the 
 real derivation is from German klopfen, Dutch kloppen, 
 " to beat " Skeat nuotes a passage from a comic poem, 
 of which he does not give the date, in which the word 
 hloii is used- '• clap" or " clatter." Halliwell gives elope 
 = 'a blow" in his Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial 
 Words; and in Cornwall c/<'^)y>ui;/ is used, meaning "lame," 
 "limping;" a word derived proltably from the same 
 source. There is no doubt that collop originally meant 
 "a piece of meat cut off for the purpose of cooking." 
 Beaumont and Fletcher use the word in The Maid of 
 the .Mill, iv 1: 
 
 if tliere want but a collop, 
 Ur a steak o' me, look to 't. 
 
 —Works, vol. ii. p. 599 
 
 255. Line 49: Ho, misconceived 7oa»o/.4rc hath been. 
 — F. 1 has : 
 
 No misconceyued, Joan oi Aire hath beene; 
 
 and so F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 substantially. Steevens arranges 
 the line thus: 
 
 No, misconceived I Joan of Arc hath been, 
 
 exi)laining it, "No, ye misconceivers, ye who mistake me 
 and my qualities." The reading incur text is that of 
 F. 4, which certainly seems to be, in this instance, the 
 right reading. There can be no necessity for giving the 
 peculiar sense to iniKCOiiceived which Steevens does. Its 
 natural meaning suits the context best; Joan calls her- 
 self the victim of misconception. 
 
 256. Line G4: Althungh ye HALE ine to a viulent death. 
 —It is worth noting that this word seems to be a favour- 
 ite one with the author, or authors of this play, in which 
 it occurs three times, namely, i. I. 149; ii. 5. 3; v. 4. 64. It 
 occurs twice in II. Henry VI. iv. 1. 131 and iv. 8. 59; twice 
 in Titus .^ndronicus, v. 2. 51 ; v 3. 143, and once in Tericles, 
 iv. 1. 55. It may be noted that these are all plays of 
 which comparatively but a small portion is Shakespeare's 
 own work. He uses the word no more than five times in 
 all the other plays; namely, in Twelfth Night, iii. 2. 64; 
 Winter's Tale, iii. 2. 102; Troilus and Cressida, iv. 5. 6; 
 Coriolanus, v. 4. 40; Othello, iv. 1. 144. 
 
 257. Line 70: Well, WELL, go to; we'll have no bastards 
 lice.— The second well was added by Capell. F. 1 has: 
 
 Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards Hue. 
 
 F. 2, F. 3, F. 4 have " we icill have no bastards live," in 
 order to make the line complete. Capell's emendation, 
 however, is preferable. 
 
 258. Line 74: that notorioiis Machiavel .' — In Iilerry 
 Wives, iii. 1. 103, 104, we have: "Am I politic? am I 
 subtle? am I a Machiavel?" and in III, Henry VL iii. 2. 
 19:!; 
 
 And set the murderous Afachiavel to school, 
 
 an epithet which he scarcely deserves. MachiarclU was 
 born in 1469, and died in 1,527. His period of political 
 activity, as secretary to the Council of Ten in Florence, 
 lasted from 1498 to 1512. In that year he was banished; 
 and was not again employed, except as ambassador. His 
 work Del Principe, which has gained for bis name pro- 
 344 
 
 verbial infamy, was not published till 1532. The evil 
 reputation associated with the name of Macliiavelli is 
 scarcely deserved. His other works are models of style 
 and composition; and may justly claim to rank among 
 the noblest specimens of Italian literature. The anachron- 
 ism in this passage is surpassed by one quoted by Steevens 
 from The Valiant Welshman, 1015, a play of Armin's. 
 One of the characters bids Caradoc, i.e. Caractacus, 
 read Machiavel: 
 rrinccs that would aspire must mock at hell. 
 
 259. Line 87: May never glorious sun reflex his beams. 
 —This is the only instance of the use of this word as a 
 verb. Shakespeare uses the noun once; namely, in Rom. 
 and Jul. iii. v. 20: 
 
 'T is but tlie pale rejlex of Cj'iilhia's brow. 
 
 260. Line 91. —This is the last that the dramatist 
 allows us to see of the unhappy Joan, who ought to have 
 been the heroine of this play; whose character, as has 
 been already pointed out, is treated with such inconsis- 
 tency, and such a curious mixture of meanness and gene- 
 rosity, that one does not know whether tlie dramatist 
 intended us to sympathize with her, or to detest her. 
 One cannot help regretting that Shakespeare had not 
 time and inclination to treat the character of the Slaid 
 of Orleans from a nobler and juster point of view; but 
 perhaps that would have been asking too much of a 
 writer in his time. 'The intense prejudice sliown against 
 Joan by Hall and Ilolinshed, greater in the case of the 
 latter, proves how long the embittered animosity, w hich 
 originally demanded the execution of tliis lirave and 
 noble-minded woman, survived in the Knglish mind. 
 Hall gives the letter sent by the King of England to the 
 Duke of Burgundy justifying the execution of Joan. 'This 
 letter has been attributed to the Duke of Bedfonl; but, 
 from the theological tone of it, it is more likely to have 
 been the work of Cardinal Beaufort, who is said to have 
 been the only ecclesiastic who looked on unmoved at tlie 
 JIaid's death-agony. 'The letter is too long fur quotation; 
 but the gist of it is that she was accused of heresy, of 
 sorceiy, and of blasphemy; that she refused to confess 
 her crimes till the judges had begun to pronounce her 
 sentence; that being condemned to penance, she revoked 
 her confession and submission; was again exhorted to 
 repent, but, proving obstinate, was delivered over to the 
 secular authorities, who condemned her to be burnt. 
 Hall does not accuse her of incontinency, as will be seen 
 from the following passage, in which he argues against 
 any claim on her part to sanctity: " I can very well agree, 
 that she was more to be marueiled at, as a false pro- 
 pbetisse, and seducer of the people: then to be honored 
 or worshijiped as a sainct sent from God into the realme 
 of Fraunce. For of this I am sure, that all auncient 
 writers, aswell deuine as prophane, alledge these three 
 thynges, beside diueise other, to apparteine to a good 
 wdman. First, shamefastnesse, whiclie the Komain Ladies 
 so kept, that seldome or neuer thei wer seen openly talk- 
 yng with a man: which verttie, at this day emongest the 
 Turkes, is highly esteemed. The seconde. is pitie: whiche 
 in a womans harte, abhorreth the spillyng of the blond 
 of a poore beast, or a sely birde. I'he third, is womanly 
 behauor aduoydyng the occasion of euill iudgenient, and
 
 ACT V. Scene i. 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENKY VI.- PART I 
 
 ACT V. Scene 5. 
 
 causes of shuimlie. If these qualities, be of necessitie, 
 incident to a good woman, wlieve was her slianiefastnes, 
 when she daily and nightly, was conuersant with comen 
 souldiois, and men of warre, emongest whom, is small 
 honestie, lesse veitue, and shaniefastnesse, least of all 
 exercised or vsed? Where was her womanly pitie, whe 
 she taking to her, the harte of a cruell beaste, slewe, 
 man, woman, and childe, where she might haue the vpper 
 hand ? Where was her womanly behauor, when she cladde 
 her self in a mannes clothyng, and was couersant with 
 entry losell, geuyng occasion to all men to iudge, and 
 speake euill of her, and her doynges. Then these thynges, 
 beyng thus plainly true, all men must nedes confesse, 
 that the cause ceasyng, the effect also ceaseth: so yt, if 
 these morall vertues lackyng, she was no good woma, 
 then it must nedes, consequently folowe, that she was no 
 sainct" (p. 159). 
 
 But tlie dramatist had some ground for representing 
 Joan as stooping to the cowardly device of pleading preg- 
 nancy, as the following passage from Holinshed will show; 
 "But herein (God helpe vs) she fuUie afore possest of the 
 feend, not able to hold hir in anie towardnesse of grace, 
 falling streight waie into hir former abominations (and 
 yet seeking to eech out life as long as she might) stake 
 not (though the shift were sliamefull) to confesse hir selfe 
 a strumpet, and (vnniaried as she was) to be with child. 
 For triall, the lord regents lenitie gaue hir nine moneths 
 stale, at the end wherof she found herein as false as 
 wicked in the rest, an eight dales after, vpon a further 
 definitiue sentence declared against hir to be relapse, and 
 a renouncerof hir oth and repentance, was she therevpon 
 deliuered ouer to secular power" (vol. iii. p. 171). How- 
 ever much of shame one feels, as an Englishman, at the 
 malignant cruelty which condemned this heroic girl, 
 whose courage at least ought to have won the respect of 
 her foes, to an ignominious death; and at the malicious 
 IJrcjudice which, a century and a half later, allowed no 
 English writer to treat her character with any justice; 
 still it may lie some consolation to remember that it was 
 reserved for a Frenchmnn in the eighteenth century, one 
 before whose intellect, if not to whose heart, we are often 
 asked to bow down, to perpetrate the greatest outrage on 
 the JIaid of Orleans. Voltaire's filthy and ribald slander 
 on one of the noblest of heroines his country had ever 
 produced is fortunately little read, e.xcept by those whose 
 tastes lead them U> explore the sewage of literature. That 
 any Frenchman could have written such a thing seems 
 almost incredible; but, having written it, that he should 
 not have done everything in his power to withdraw it 
 from publication, and to destroy every copy of it, seems 
 absolutely impossible. Unfortunately for the reputation 
 of the human intellect, such is the fact. 
 
 261. Line 11-1: severe covenants. —For another instance 
 of the accent on the first syllable of this word compare 
 Measure for Jleasure, ii. 2. 41: "O just hnt sdocre law!" 
 In all other cases Shakespeare uses the word with the 
 accent on the second syllable. 
 
 262. Lines 121, 122: 
 
 The IwUnw passage of my PRISON'D vuice, 
 Bij sujht of these our BALEFUL enemies. 
 Pf. have poison d; the emendation is Theobald's. Johnson 
 
 defends poison'd on the ground that the epithet agrees 
 well enough with baleful in the following line; hale fid 
 belng=" baneful," i.e. "no.vious;" but surely it is not his 
 voice that would see his baleful enemies, and the context 
 does not allow of our making any sense ot poison'd. For 
 baleful compare Rom. and Jul. ii. 3. 8: '■ baleful weeds 
 and precious-juiced flowers." 
 
 263. Line 150: Stand'st thou aloof \ipon comparison I — 
 The meaning is : " Do you stand off upon the ground of 
 comparing your position with that of King Henry, the 
 part that you possess of France with the part that he 
 
 possesses?'' 
 
 264. Lines 171, 172: 
 
 Nor he rebellious TO THE CROWN OF ENGLAND, 
 Thou, nor thy nobles, TO THE CROWN of England. 
 Walker suggests that there is an error he e in tlie repe- 
 tition of the words to the crown of England. It certainly 
 looks very much like it. I would suggest the omission 
 altogether of the words in the second line, leaving the 
 line an imperfect one. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 5. 
 
 265. Lines 5-9 : 
 
 And like as rigour if tempestuous gusts 
 Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide. 
 So a)n I driven hy breath of her renown, 
 Either to suffer shipivreck, or arrive 
 Where I may have fruition of her love. 
 The simile in this passage is certainly obscure and far- 
 fetched. Johnson says: "he seems to mean, that as a 
 ship is driven against the tide by the wind, so he is driven 
 by love against the current of his interest" (Yar. Ed. vol. 
 xviii. p. 157). King Henry does not say anything about 
 sacrificing his interests; he simply says, what he affirms 
 below (79-86), that Suffolk's description of Margaret's 
 charms and accomplishments has kindled in him so strong 
 a passion, that he has determined to possess her as his 
 wife. 
 
 There does not seem to be any historical authority for 
 representing Henry's consent to this marriage as pro- 
 ceeding from any passion excited by the description, re- 
 ceived from Suffolk, of Margaret's charms. From the first 
 it must have been a marriage devised, on political grounds, 
 by part of the king's council; and, as far as we can gather 
 from the somewhat conflicting authorities, Suffolk was 
 himself very reluctant to conclude the marriage. Hall's 
 account is as follows: "When these thynges wer con- 
 cluded, the Erie of Suffolke with his company, thinkyng 
 to haue brought ioyfuU tidynges, to the whole realme of 
 Englande, departed from Toures, and so by long iornies, 
 arriued at Douer, and came to the kyng to Westminster, 
 and thei'e openly before the kyng and his counsail, de- 
 clared how he had taken an honorable truce, for the 
 saueguard of Normandy, and the wealth of y realme, 
 out of whiche truce, he thought, yea, and doubted not, 
 but a perpetual peace, and a finall concorde, should 
 shortely proceade and growe out. And muche the soner, 
 for that honorable mariage, that inuincible alliaunce, 
 that Godly affinitie, which he had concluded: omitting 
 nothyng, whiche might extoll and setfurth, the personage 
 345
 
 ACT V. Scene 
 
 NOTES TO KING HENEY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ACT V. Scene 5. 
 
 of tlie Ladie, nor forgetting any thyng, of the nobilitie of 
 her kinne, nor of her fathers high stile: as who would 
 sale, that she was of siiclie an excellent beautie, and of 
 so high a parentage, that alnioste no king or Emperor, 
 was worthy to be her make. Although this mariage 
 pleased well the kyng. and diuerse of his counsaill, and 
 especially suche as were adherentes, and fautors to the 
 erie of .Suffolko, yet llunifrey duke of Gloucester, Protec- 
 tor of the reahne, repugned and rcsisled as niuclie as in 
 him laie, this new alliaunce and contriued niatrimouie" 
 (p. 204). 
 
 266. Lines 25-29. —Gloucester's reasons for opposing the 
 marriage are the same as those given by Hall (p. 204): 
 "that it was neither consonaunt to the lawe of God nor 
 man, nor honorable to a prince, to infringe and breake a 
 promise or contracte, by hym made and concluded, for 
 the vtilitie and prufite of his realnie and people, declar- 
 yng, that the kyiig, by his .\nibassadors, sufficiently in- 
 structed and autliorised, had cocluded and cotracted, a 
 mariage betwene his highnes, and the doughter of therle 
 of Arminacke, vpon condicions, botlie to hym and his 
 realnie, asmuche profitable as honorable. Wliiche offers 
 and c6dicion.«, thesald erle sith his conimyng out of his 
 capliuitie and thraldome, is redy to yelde and performe, 
 saiyng: that it was more conueniente for a Prince, to 
 marie a wife with riches and frendes, then to take a 
 make with notliyng, and disherite himself and his realms 
 of olde riglites and auncient seigniories. The duke was 
 not heard, but the Erles doynges, were condiscended 
 vnto, and allowed. Whiche facte engendered suche a 
 flame, that it neuer wente oute, till bothe the parties witli 
 many other were consumed and slain, to the great vn- 
 quietnes of the kyng and his realnie." 
 
 267. Line 46: Beside, his wealth doth warrant liberal 
 doicer.— This is the reading of F. 2. F. 1 reads "a liberal 
 dower," which Dyce prefers on the ground that loarrant 
 is usually a monosyllable in our early poets. This may 
 be so in one or two instances; but certainly, in the majo- 
 rity of passages in which Shakespeare uses the word, it 
 cannot be anything but a dissyllable. For instance, in 
 the Comedy of Errors, i. 1. GO; the Two Gent, of Verona, 
 ii. 4. 102; in Richard IL iv. 1. 2:55; and again in this very 
 play, V. 3. 143. So, upon the -vvliole, we are justified in 
 preferring to follow F. 2. 
 
 268. Line 5G: Than to be dealt in hij ATTORNEi'SHIP.— 
 Or as we sliould say, "by attorney." Shakespeare is 
 
 34G 
 
 rather fond of this legal similitude: e.g. in Richard IIL 
 iv. 4. 413: 
 
 Be thi attorney of my love to her ; 
 
 and again in same play, v. 3. 83 : 
 
 1, by nttornty, bless tliec from thy mother. 
 
 Shakespeare would certainly seem, at one period of his 
 life, to have had some practical actiuaintance with the 
 technicalities of tlie law. (See Mid. ^'ight's Dream, note 
 
 n.) 
 
 269. Line 60; IT mo&t of all these reasons bindeth us. — 
 It is omitted in Ff. ; first inserted by Rowe. 
 
 270. Line 64: Whereas the contrary bringeth FORTH blixs. 
 —This is the reading of F. 2, F. 3, F. 4. F. 1 has bringeth 
 bliss, which some editors defend upon the ground that 
 contrary is here used as a quadrisyllable; but as there 
 does not seem to be, in Shakespeare, any instance of the 
 use of the word as a qua<lrisyllable; and as, in two pas- 
 sages, namely, Tinion of Athens, iv. 3. 144: "Be quite 
 contrary;" and Hamlet, iii. 2. 221: 
 
 Our wills and fates do so coutrtiry run, 
 
 Shakespeare uses it with the accent on the second syllable 
 (where the word cannot possibly be a iiuadrisyllable), it 
 seems better to adopt the alteration of F. 2. 
 
 2'".1. Line 72: Will answer hope in issue of a king.— 
 Ff. have : 
 
 AVill answer ottr hope in issue of a king. 
 
 The omission of owe was first suggested by Steevens. 
 
 272. Line 90: Across the seas to England, and be 
 croivn'd. — Ff. have To cross; the emendation is Walker's. 
 
 273. Ijino lOS: But I ivill rule both her, the king, and 
 ccff/y/i.— Whether this play was written before or after 
 those two plays now known as The Second and Third 
 Parts of Henry VI., it certainly ends at the vei-j' best 
 point that could be chosen witli regard to the two other 
 plays. Henry's marriage seems to have been the turning- 
 point of his fortunes. From that moment nothing seems 
 to have prospered with him or his army. The discontent 
 which the cession of Anjou and Maine excited in the 
 minds of the people, as well as amongst the nobles, was 
 increased by the uniform ill success which the English 
 met with in France after that event. Had Henry not 
 been linked to a woman of so ambitious, resolute, and 
 fierce a cliaracter as Margaret, he might, perhaps, have 
 been suffered to conclude his reign in peace; or, at least, 
 to have yielded up the crown of his own accord, and re- 
 tired into that life of quiet contemplation and religious 
 devotion for which he was most adapted liy nature.
 
 WORDS PECULIAE TO KING HEXEY YI.— PART I. 
 
 WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN KING HENRY YI. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 XOTE.— The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 
 used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 
 Tlie compound words marked witli an asterisk (^) are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Abrupt ii. 3 30 
 
 Accomplices... v. 2 9 
 
 Agazed i. 1 126 
 
 Air-braving iv. 2 13 
 
 Attorneyship., v. 5 56 
 
 Bachelorship . . v. 4 13 
 
 Bartered i. 4 31 
 
 Blood-sacrifice, v. 3 2i) 
 
 Blood-thirsty., ii. 3 3i 
 
 Bloomed! i. 6 7 
 
 Bold-faced a.... iv. G 12 
 
 'Bull-beeves... i. 2 9 
 
 Cannon-shot... iii. 3 79 
 
 Captivate (adj.) I '|- | ^J'^ 
 
 Co-equal v. 1 33 
 
 Condescend.... -J ^'- ^ ^^ 
 
 ( V. 3 120 
 
 Confusedly i. 1 118 
 
 Confutation iv. 1 98 
 
 Contunieliously i. 3 58 
 
 Cornets iv. 3 25 
 
 Corrosive (adj.) iii. 3 3 
 
 Coucheds iii. 2 134 
 
 Crazy iii. 2 89 
 
 Crestless ii. 4 85 
 
 *Deep-preniedi- 
 
 tated iii. 1 1 
 
 Disagree iv. 1 140 
 
 Disanimates . . . iii. 1 183 
 
 Discomfltuie. . . i. 1 ."■9 
 
 Distrustful .... i. 2 12(! 
 
 Dizzy-eyed iv. 7 11 
 
 Dogfish i. 4 107 
 
 Due (verb) iv. 2 34 
 
 -Easy-held .... v. 3 139 
 
 Effusad V. 4 52 
 
 Enrank i. 1 115 
 
 Enshrines iii. 2 119 
 
 1 The substantive hloom occurs 
 twice in Shakespeare: the verb 
 only in this passage. 
 
 - Occurs in Vennsand Adonis, 6. 
 
 3 Used of fixing a lance in the 
 rest; in other senses the verb is 
 used frequently. 
 
 Act Sc. Line 
 
 Ever-living .... iv. 3 51 
 
 Exequies iii. 2 133 
 
 Expulsed iii. 3 25 
 
 Extinguisli* v. 3 192 
 
 Fickleness v. 3 134 
 
 First-begotten ii. 5 65 
 
 Fling (sub.). .. . iii. 1 64 
 
 Fly-blown iv. 7 76 
 
 Foils (sub.).... -I'"- 3 11 
 
 ^ ' t V. 3 23 
 
 Fruition v. 5 9 
 
 Full-replete.. v. 5 17 
 
 Gimmals i. 2 41 
 
 Guardant'"' (sub.) iv. 7 9 
 
 Hedge-born iv. 1 43 
 
 High-minded . . i. 5 12 
 
 *Huugry-starved" i. 5 16 
 
 Imnianity v. 1 13 
 
 Immortalized.. i. 2 148 
 
 Imperiously^ .. i. 3 5 
 
 Incantations. . . v. 3 27 
 
 Inhearsed'J . . . . iv. 7 45 
 
 Inshipped v. 1 49 
 
 Intermissive. . . i. 1 88 
 
 Keen-edged i. 2 98 
 
 Kennel 10 iv. 2 47 
 
 Lither iv. 7 21 
 
 *Lofty-plumed. v. 3 25 
 
 Louted iv. 3 13 
 
 Magnifiest iv. 7 75 
 
 Market-bell.... iii. 2 16 
 
 Market-folks . . iii. 2 15 
 
 4 Lucreee, 313. 
 
 5 In the sense of " defeat." In 
 other senses it is used in several 
 places. 
 
 6 In Coriolanus, v. 2. 67, Jack 
 guardant occurs, where the word 
 is probably used as an adj. 
 
 " This is the reading of Ff . .See 
 note 102. 
 
 8 Venus and Adonis, 265. 
 
 9 Occurs in Sunn. Ixxxvi. .3. 
 
 10 Used = a pack of dogs ; in 
 fither senses it occurs elsewhen'. 
 
 
 Act Sc. 
 
 Line 
 
 ilarket-men . . . - 
 
 iii. 
 
 V. 
 
 5 
 
 4 
 54 
 
 "Master-gunner 
 
 i. 
 
 4 
 
 G 
 
 *Minute-while.. 
 
 i. 
 
 4 
 
 54 
 
 Misconceived . . 
 
 V. 
 
 4 
 
 49 
 
 *Moody-mad. . . 
 
 iv. 
 
 2 
 
 50 
 
 ^lotions (verb) . 
 
 1. 
 
 3 
 
 03 
 
 *Xero-likeii... 
 
 i. 
 
 4 
 
 95 
 
 Nestor-like 
 
 ii. 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 *Xew-begot 
 
 i. 
 
 1 
 
 79 
 
 Nourish (sub.). 
 
 i. 
 
 1 
 
 50 
 
 Nurser 
 
 iv. 
 
 7 
 
 46 
 
 Oft-subdued . . . 
 
 i. 
 
 5 
 
 32 
 
 Otherwhiles.. . . 
 
 i. 
 
 2 
 
 7 
 
 Over-awe 
 
 i. 
 
 1 
 
 36 
 
 Over-daring 
 
 IV. 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 Over-long 
 
 V. 
 
 3 
 
 13 
 
 Over-mounting 
 
 iv. 
 
 7 
 
 15 
 
 Overpassed 
 
 ii. 
 
 5 
 
 117 
 
 Over-tedious . . 
 
 )U. 
 
 3 
 
 43 
 
 Over-veiled 
 
 ii. 
 
 2 
 
 2 
 
 Pamphlets 12. .. 
 
 iii. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 Parked 
 
 IV. 
 
 2 
 
 45 
 
 Patronage (verb 
 
 (iii 
 liii 
 
 1 
 4 
 
 48 
 32 
 
 Periapts 
 
 V. 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 Pithless 
 
 11. 
 
 5 
 
 H 
 
 Platforms" . . . 
 
 ii. 
 
 1 
 
 77 
 
 Potter 
 
 i. 
 
 5 
 
 19 
 
 Practisants.... 
 
 iii. 
 
 2 
 
 20 
 
 Precinct 
 
 ii. 
 
 1 
 
 68 
 
 Preciseness.... 
 
 V. 
 
 4 
 
 67 
 
 Proditor 
 
 i. 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 Putrefy (trans.) 
 
 iv. 
 
 7 
 
 90 
 
 Quittance (verb) 
 
 ii. 
 
 1 
 
 14 
 
 "Pi-aging-wood . 
 
 iv. 
 
 7 
 
 35 
 
 Rascal-like 
 
 iv. 
 
 2 
 
 49 
 
 Raw-boned 
 
 i. 
 
 2 
 
 35 
 
 Reflex (verb) . . 
 
 V. 
 
 4 
 
 87 
 
 11 See note 99. 
 
 
 
 
 12 Lucreee Dedic. 
 
 1. 
 
 
 
 Vi In the sense 
 
 of 
 
 ' plans," 
 
 " schemes." In its ordinary sense 
 
 ptaf/OT-m occurs Hamlet 
 
 i. 2 
 
 213, 
 
 252; 0th. ii. 3. 124. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Act Sc. 
 
 Line 
 
 Reguerdou (sub 
 
 .)iii. 
 
 1 
 
 170 
 
 Reguerdoued. . 
 
 iii. 
 
 4 
 
 23 
 
 Repugn 
 
 iv. 
 
 1 
 
 94 
 
 Rich-jeweled.. 
 
 i. 
 
 G 
 
 25 
 
 Rigorously 
 
 v. 
 
 4 
 
 52 
 
 Sack "(sub.).. 
 
 ii. 
 
 2 
 
 15 
 
 Sapless 
 
 (iv. 
 
 5 
 
 5 
 
 12 
 4 
 
 Servility 
 
 v. 
 
 3 
 
 113 
 
 Skirmish (verb) 
 
 f 1- 
 
 1 i. 
 
 2 
 4 
 
 34 
 69 
 
 Slaughterer . . . 
 
 ii. 
 
 5 
 
 109 
 
 Spelling 15 
 
 V. 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 'Spials le 
 
 I. 
 
 4 
 
 8 
 
 Stablish 
 
 V. 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 Strong-fixed . . . 
 
 ii. 
 
 5 
 
 102 
 
 Stubbornly 
 
 iv. 
 
 1 
 
 94 
 
 Studiously 
 
 in. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 Subtle-witted.. 
 
 1. 
 
 1 
 
 25 
 
 Subverts 
 
 ii. 
 
 3 
 
 65 
 
 Taint" 
 
 V. 
 
 3 
 
 183 
 
 Tawny-coats. . . 
 
 111. 
 
 1 
 
 74 
 
 *Thrice-victorious i\ 
 
 . 7 
 
 67 
 
 Turtle-doves. . . 
 
 ii. 
 
 2 
 
 30 
 
 Unbidden 
 
 ii. 
 
 2 
 
 55 
 
 Unchain 
 
 v. 
 
 3 
 
 31 
 
 Unfallible 
 
 i. 
 
 2 
 
 59 
 
 Unpremeditate 
 
 1 i. 
 
 2 
 
 88 
 
 Unready 
 
 ( 11. 
 1 ii. 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 39 
 40 
 
 Unvanquished. 
 
 v. 
 
 4 
 
 141 
 
 Upstart (sub.).. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " 
 
 S7 
 
 *Vile-esteemed 
 
 i. 
 
 4 
 
 33 
 
 Warrantizei".. 
 
 i. 
 
 3 
 
 13 
 
 War-wearied . . 
 
 iv. 
 
 4 
 
 18 
 
 Wist 
 
 iv. 
 
 1 
 
 ISO 
 
 Writhled 
 
 ii. 
 
 3 
 
 23 
 
 14 =the sacking 
 
 of a to^vn 
 
 It 
 
 is used frequentl.i 
 
 • as the name 
 
 of a kind of wine. 
 
 
 
 
 IS =working a spell or 
 
 enchant 
 
 ment. 
 
 
 
 
 1" See note 9:!. 
 
 
 
 
 17 = tainted. 
 
 
 
 
 IS Sonn. cl. r. 
 
 
 
 
 34-;
 
 EMENDATIONS ON KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 
 
 Note 
 
 
 36. 
 
 i. 1 
 
 
 le 
 
 4;i. 
 
 i. 1. 
 
 44. 
 
 i. 1. 
 
 
 hi 
 
 40. 
 
 i. 1. 
 
 50. 
 
 i. 1. 
 
 52. 
 
 i. 1. 
 
 58. 
 
 i. 2. 
 
 70. 
 
 i. 2. 
 
 77. i. 
 
 CO: Giiienne, Clianipagae, Hhciinii, EoCKX, Or- 
 ■aim. 
 
 95; The Duke Alen<;on jlieth tti his side. 
 
 96: The Dauphin CROWX'D king! AND all jlij to 
 im ! 
 
 128: Cried out amain. A Talbot! no! a Talbot! 
 
 159: The Earl of Salisbury CRAVES A supply. 
 
 174: for me no THING reimtuis. 
 
 25: That Sali.'ihury's a desperate homicide. 
 
 102: TIten come ON, o' God's name; I fear no 
 Oman. So Keijjhtley. 
 
 148: Drive them from Orleans, be immortaliz'd. 
 
 Note 
 94. 
 
 110. 
 1.S7. 
 
 138. 
 
 146. 
 178. 
 179. 
 
 i. 4. 16-18: 
 
 And even FOR these three days have I u-atch'd. 
 
 If I could see them. 
 
 yow do thou watch, for 1 can stay no longer. 
 
 ii. 2. 54: A'o, truly, tao; 'tis more than manners ^vill. 
 
 ii. 5. 76: Unto the tliird King Edward. 
 
 ii. 5. 82. 8.S: 
 
 Long after this, ivhcn Ilenry the Fiftit, 
 Succeeding his sire liallngbroke, did reign. 
 
 iii. 1. 29: Were I ambitious, covetous, or WORSE. 
 
 iii. 4. 7: Twelve cities, seven walled toivns of strength. 
 
 iii. 4. 13: /*• this Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester'} 
 
 ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED. 
 
 Note 
 .55. 
 173. 
 188. 
 230. 
 
 i. 2. 7: 0' the whiles. 
 
 iii. 3. 47: As looks the mother on Iter LONELY babe. 
 iv. 1. 175: 'Right prettily did play the orator. 
 V. 1. 59: That nor in birth, NOR IN authority. 
 348 
 
 Note 
 
 264. V. 4. 171, 172 : 
 
 Sor be rebellious TO THE CROAVN OF ENGLAND, 
 
 Thou, nor thy nobles. 
 
 END OF VOL. T. 
 
 GLASGOW: W. C. HLACKIE AND CX)., PRINTEU.S, VILLAKIELl).
 
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