HARD KNOTS SHAKESPEARE SIR PHILIP PEERING, BART., FORMERLY SCHOLAR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. All difficulties are but easy, when they are known. ' Measure For Measure," Act IV, 2. 221. LONDON ; LONGMANS, GREEN & CO. 18S5. PREFACE . This little work, which I have ventured to commit to the press, treats of a very small portion of a very large subject. It cannot pretend to be much more than a supplement, or appendix, to the numerous publications which have been issued from time to time on the text, the sense, the language, the style, the spirit, the whole life and character of Shakes- peare. My object has been not to do over again work which has already been sufficiently well done, but to endeavour to throw new light on what I conceive to have been misunderstood by previous expositors, and to explain, or emend, certain passages, where, according to the Cambridge editors, 'the original text had been corrupted in such a way as to affect the sense, no admissible emendation having been proposed,' or where 'a lacuna occurs too great to be filled up with any approach to certainty.' Wliether I have succeeded in reclaiming any of these waste patches, abandoned by others as uncultivable, can only be ascertained by ocular observation. It is true that I have not examined a single impression of either Folio or Quarto, but I have followed the trustworthy guidance of the editors of the 'Cambridge Shakespeare,' in the footnotes of which the various readings of the original copies are set down with conscientious accuracy. To this extent, then, I have been a borrower ; but I have not borrowed my ideas, my interpretations, my arguments, my matter generally. If, as has some- IV PEEFACE. times happened, I have occupied ground which some one else had occupied before me, I can truly say that, at the time that I appropriated it, I was not aware that another possessed it. Even my quota- tions and references I have not fetched from a Concordance, but have myself culled them after carefully considering them. The 'Globe' Shakes- peare has been my text-book, partly because, coming from Cambridge, it would seem to carry with it a Collegiate, not to say, a University recommendation, partly because it was convenient for reference, the lines in it being numbered. I have taken, as I was bound to do, the utmost pains with every one of my papers, caring less for, form than for substance, and aiming not so much at fine writing, as at fair argument and the discovery of the truth — not but that I have endeavoured, where I could, and as far as I could, to give some sort of shape and polish to my rough ,and unattrac- tive materials. I have been encouraged and assisted in my labours by two of my friends, who have taken an interest in the progress of my work, and to whom I now record my heart-felt thanks ; they must not be held responsible for any of my opinions, yet their sound judgment and kind counsel have saved me from many doubtful, and from some dangerous positions. p p EXMOUTH, March, 1885. CONTENTS. PAGE, 1. THE TEMPEST 1—21. Act I. Sc. 1. 66-68 ; Sc. 2. 26-32, 53, 172-74, 306-307, 376-386, 486-491. Act II. Sc. 1. 130-131 ; Sc. 2. 15-16. Act III. Sc. 1. 15 ; Sc. 3. 49-51. ActlV. Sc. 1.61, 164. 2. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 22—35. Actll. Sc. 5.2. Act III. Sc. 1.81. Act V. Sc. 4. 82-83, 129. 3. MEASURE FOR MEASURE -. ... 36—52. Act I. Sc. 1. 8-9 ; Sc. 2. 125 ; Sc. 3. 20, 42-43 ; Sc. 4. 30. Act II. Sc. 1. 37-40. Act III. Sc. 1. 126-128 ; Sc. 2. 275-96, 4. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 63—68. Act I. Sc. 1. 37-39 ; Sc. 2. 3«-38. Act II. Sc. 1.103-115. Act IV. Sc. 1. 98 ; Sc. 8. 12-20. Act V. Sc. 1. 405-407. 5. A MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM ^. ... 67—76. Act II. Sc. 1. 54. Act III. Sc. 2. 14. Act IV. Sc. 1.150-163. Act V. Sc. 1. 66-60, 92. 6. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 77—88. Act I. Sc. 1. 35. Act II. Sc. 7. 69. Act III. Sc. 2. 97-99, 160-167 ; So. 3. 26-29 ; Sc. 6. 78-83. Act IV. Sc. 1. 50, 37J. VI CONTENTS. PAGE. 7. AS YOU LIKE IT 89—98. Actl.Sc. 1.1-5. Act II. Sc. 4. 1 ; Sc. 7. 53-57, 71-74. Act III. Sc. 2. 206-207 ; Sc. 5. 7, 23. Act V. Sc. 4. 4. 8. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 99—106. Induction. Sc. 1. 17, 64. Act I. Sc. 2. 6-7, 28-31. Actlll. Sc. 2.16. Act IV. Sc. 2. 59-62. 9. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 107—124. Act I. Sc. 1. 179, 237-241 ; Sc. 2. 31-45 ; Sc. 3. 141. Act II. Sc. 1. 3, 27, 175-177 ; Sc. 5. 52. Act IV. Sc. 1. 17-21 ; Sc. 2. 38 ; Sc. 4. 30-33. Act V. Sc. 3. 6, 66, 216. ^^ 10. TWELFTH NIGHT : OR WHAT YOU WILL ... Act II. Sc. 5. 71. Act III. Sc. 3. 13-16 ; Sc. 4. 86-91. Act IV. Sc. 1. 14-15. 11. THE WINTERS TALE 131—142. Act I. Sc. 2. 273-276, 324, 467-460. Act II. Sc. 1. 133-136, 143, Act III. Sc. 2. 60-62 Act IV. Sc. 3. 98 ; Sc. 4. 250, 690-592, 760. Act V. Sc. 1. 55-60. 12. KING JOHN 14b-153. Act II. Sc. 1. 183-190. Act III. Sc. 1. 259, 263-297 ; Sc. 3. 39. Act IV. Sc. 2. 40-43. Act V. Sc. 6. 12 ; Sc. 7. 15-17. 13. KING RICHARD II 164— IflO. Act I. Sc. 2. 67-70 ; Sc. 3. 127-128. Act II. Sc. 1. 246-248 ; Sc. 2. 39-40, 108-114. Act III. Sc. 2. 175-177. Act V. Sc. 1. 25. CONTENTS. VU PAGE. 14. KING HENRY IV 181—175, FlEST PAKT. Act I. Sc. 1. 5-6 Act IV. Sc. 1. 31. ActV. Sc. 2. 8, 77-79, Second Part. Act I. Sc. 3. 36-37. Act IV. Sc. 1. 50, 88-96, 15. KING HENRY V 176—187. Act I. Sc. 2. 91-95, 125-127, 273-276. Act II. Sc. 2. 138-140. Act III. Sc. 3. 35. Act IV. Sc. 1. 262. 16. KING HENRY VI 188—200. FlKST PABT. Act I. Sc. 1. 56, 62. Act IV. Sc. 6. 42-47. Act V. Sc. 3. 70-71, 193 ; Sc. 5, 64. Second Part, Act I. Sc. 3. 153. Act II. Sc. 1. 26. Act IV. Sc. 10. 66. Third Part. Act 1. Sc, 4. 152-153. 17. KING RICHARD III 201—207. Act I. Sc. 2, 64, 101-103 ; Sc. 3. 62-69, 113, 188, Act III. Sc, 3. 23. Act V. Sc. 3. 173 ; Sc. 5. 23-31 . 18. KING HENRY VIII 208—218. Act 1. Sc. 1. 63, 75-80, 204-207, 222-226. Act II. Sc. 2. 92-98 ; Sc. 3. 46. Act III. Sc. 2. 62-71, 190-192, 383. Act V. Sc. 3. 1-2, 10-12, 108, 130. Vm CONTENTS. PAGE. 19. CORIOLANUS 219—247. Act I. Sc. 1. 195-198, 262 ; Sc. 3. 46 ; Sc. 4. 31 ; Sc. 6. 76, 80-85 ; Sc. 9. 41-46. Act III. Sc. 1. 131, 189-191 ; Sc. 2. 29, 52-80, 123-128 ; Sc. 3. 130. Act IV. Sc. 3. 9 ; Sc. 6. 2-3 ; Sc. 7. 28-57. Act V. Sc. 1. 15-17, 65-73 ; Sc. 2. 17. 20. TITUS ANDRONICUS 248—255. Act II. Sc. 3. 126. Act III. Sc. 1. 170, 282. Act IV. Sc. 1. 129 ; Sc. 2. 152, 177-178, Act V. Sc. 1. 132 ; Sc. 3. 124. 21. TIMON OF ATHENS 256—272. Act I. Sc. 1. 235-241 ; Sec. 2. 73. Act III. Sc. 2. 43 ; Sc. 6. 89. Act IV. Sc. 3. 133-134, 223. Act V. Sc. 2. 6-9 ; Sc. 3. 1-10 ; Sc. 4. 62. 22. JULIUS C^SAB 273—288. Act I. Sc. 2. 155 ; Sc. 3. 62-65, 129. Act III. Sc. 1. 174,206, 262. Act IV. Sc. 1. 36-39 ; Sc. 2. 49-52. Act V. Sc. 1. 35. 23. MACBETH 287—308. Act I. Sc. 2. 14, 16-23, 49, 58 ; Sc. 3. 95-98 ; So. 6. 23-26. Act II. Sc. 1.25,55. Act III. Sc. 1. 130 ; Sc. 4. 32, 105, 132. Act IV. Sc. 2. 18-22 ; Sc. 3. 15, 136-137. Act V. Sc. 3. 21 ; Sc. 4. 11. 24. HAMLET 309—321. Act I. Sc. 1. 113-125 ; Sc. 3. 73-74 ; Sc. 4. 36-38. , Act III. Sc. 4. 169. Act V. So. 1. 68 ; Sc. 2. 39-42, 118. CONTENTS. IX PAGK. 25. KING LEAR 322—336. Act I. Sc. 2. 17-22 ; Sc. 3. 18-20. Act II. Be. 2. 175-177 ; Sc. 4. 165, 273-274. Act IV. Sc. 1. 71 ; Sc. 2. 57 ; i\c. 3. 20-2] , 33. Act V. Sc. 3. 129-130, 204-207. i&. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA ... 337—345. Actl.Sc. 5.28, 48. Act II. Sc. 2. 53. Act III. Sc. 11. 47 ; Sc. 13. 10. Act V. Sc. 1. 15 ; Sc. 2. 355. 27. CYMBELINE 346—355. Act III. Sc. 3. 23 ; Sc. 4. 51-52, 135, 150. Act rV. Sc. 2. 7-9, 16-17. ActV. Sc. 1. 14-15 ; Sc. 5. 95. 28. PERICLES 356—370. Act 1. Sc. 1. 17 ; Sc. 2. 1-5, 74 ; Sc. 3. 28. Act II. Sc. 1 . 56-60. Act III. Sc. 1. 53 ; Sc. 2. 55. ActlV. Sc. 1. 11. Act V. Prologue. 23 ; Sc. 1. 174, 209. INDEX 371—374. THE TEMPEST. *'rpHE Tempest " was printed for the first time in the Foho of 1623. There is no earHer edition of it extant in Quarto, as is the case in more than one half of the thirty-six plays. What does this mean? It means that, if there should happen to be any errors in the text of the play, as it has been set down in the Folio, made I will not suppose by the author, but by the author's friends, or by those who were employed by them to copy and print his works, we have no means of correcting those errors, or of recovering the true original reading, because we have no second independent authority to fall back upon; no well -authenticated reserve testimony to appeal to; the staff upon which we leaned fails us ; the candle which lighted us leaves us in the dark. There is no help for it but to acquiesce in the irremediable, and register in each successive edition the blunders of the Folio. To be sure there are the various conjectural emendations of learned men, but of these, though some are plausible and clever, and even more or less probable, by far the larger number are wild and extravagant, almost all are precarious and uncertain. 2 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. It would seem, then, as if the critic might throw aside his pen for all the good that he would be likely to do. Such, however, is very far from being the case. In almost every play of Shakespeare there are a number of passages, where, either because a word occurs which is unexampled in its use or strange and singular in its meaning, or because a sentence is interrupted and apparently unfinished, or because the sense is not easily discernible and perhaps differs from what might have been expected, or because the versification seems irregular or inharmonious, or because there is a possibility, so tempting to the brilliant critic, of some other word having been used in the original, for which the one that has been set down in the copy might easily have been mistaken, the purity of the text is arraigned, and emendations are started, and sometimes introduced; yet in most cases I tliink it will be found that objections have been raised by an over-hasty criticism on wholly insufficient grounds, and that they crumble away and come to nothing, when all the circumstances are considered that should be considered — the extraor- dinary variety of idiom that pervades the English language, the peculiar chai'acter of pieces intended for theatrical representation; the informality, elasticity, and frequent ellipses of common conversation; the licence which the poet's age allowed him, the licence which the poet — a master linguist, an Englishman to the core — allowed himself, to say nothing of the THE TEMPEST. 3 Special circumstances of particular passages, so that, even though we should not care to do as others do, and take a shot now and then at a venture, we shall have enough to occupy us, while we strive to defend Shakespeare's text from faulty emendation or fallacious interpretation. I could not, if I wished it, give a more striking example of the narrow boundaiy which sometimes separates the true and the false, and of the difficulty at times of coming to a decision, than is afforded by a passage in the 'Tempest' at the very end of the first scene — Act I, 1, 68-70 — where Gonzalo, in imminent peril of momentary shipwre(^k, cries Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, anything. This Hanmer by a masterly stroke of critical cunning converted to 'ling, heath, broom, furze, anything,' and the Cambridge editor has signified his approval of the change by mtroducing it into the ' Clarendon Press Series ' edition, no doubt considering the Folio reading poor and unnatm-al. Yet it is not impossible that those common epithets, which Mr. Knight held to be 'quite intelligible, and much more natural than an enumeration of various wild plants' — the epithet 'long' applied to the heath (and there is, I believe, a kind of long-growing heath in that part of the world to which Gonzalo's thoughts would naturally revert), and the epithet 'brown' applied to the furze 4 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. (and there are times when the furze looks poor and shabby), were mtended to keep up the idea of the barrenness of the acre which Gonzalo coveted, lest, associating with the heath its beautiful delicate purple hue, and with the gorse its rich golden glory, we should have presented to our eye a picture not of a bare uninteresting spot, but of a landscape full of beauty and bloom. The Folio reading best describes the poverty of tlie ground, and on that account best represents Gonzalo 's pauper cravings, ■ But whatever view we may be disposed to take of this passage, after we have heard what the naturalist, the traveller, the critic, have to say on the subject, there ought not to be a shadow of doubt that the reading of the Folio is not only right, but cannot be bettered, in Act I, 2, 26-32, where Prospero, addressing Miranda, says The direfal spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd The very virtue of compassion in thee, I have with such provision in mine art So safely ordered that there is no soul — No, not so much perdition as an hair > Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink ; yet Mr. Aldis Wright, who, we freely acknowledge, has done good service as a Shakespearian comment- ator, here tells us that there is 'some imperfection in the text,' and that Eowe would read, *no soul THE TEMPEST. 5 lost,' and that others would change 'soul' to 'loss,' or 'soil,' or 'foil.' I feel sure that the learned expositor cannot really approve of these miserable emendations; I almost wonder that he should have thought it worth while to mention them at all. There is no imperfection whatever; there is merely a change of construction, and that not accidental, but deliberate and purposed. The ordinary con- struction would have been, 'There is no soul, no, not so much as a hair of any of them lost'; but Prospero, wishing to give ftill prominence to the marvel, that there had been not only no loss of life, but no loss of amj kind whatsoever, breaks off after the words 'There is no soul,' as if, in saying no more than that, he had not said enough, and, after a moment's pause, as if deliberating how best to unfold the full extent of the wonder, he recommences with quite a new order of words, and a more emphatic assurance, thus producing an effect far surpassing any which a more rigid adherence to grammatical accuracy could have produced. An irregularity like this — for an imperfection, I repeat, it is not — may displease those who look a little too much at the frame and mounting of the picture, and not sufficiently at the picture itself, but it is a delightful sur- prise to those who contemplate the work as a whole, and study the general effect; it is instinct with animation and life; it is dramaticalhj perfect; we admire in it the marvellous power of Shakespeare, 6 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. thus to make Prospero command not only the elements, but also the grammar. I have no wish to attempt to write a dissertation on the prosody of Shakespeare — a subject intolerable to all but a few of the most insatiable thirsters after knowledge — but, when we are told ex cathedra that a line must be scanned in one particular way, which quite consistently with Shakespearian usage admits of being scanned in no less than four different ways, I may be pardoned, if I digress for a moment to say just a passing word on 'such a dry subject as metre. I declare, then, that the 53rd line of Act I, Sc. 2, may be scanned in the following fourfold fashion — either thus, Twelve ye | ar since, \ Miranda, | twelve ye | ar since, where 'year,' each time that it occurs, is tantamount to a dissyllable; or thus, Twelve ye | ar since, | Miran | da, twelve | year since, where on one occasion only 'year' is used dissylla- bically; or thus, Twelve | year since, | Miran ] da, twelve [ year since, where in the first instance only Hwelve' is a dissyllabic — either actually so, the letter lo being of the nature of a vowel, or virtually so, because of the length of time, which it is necessary to pause upon the word, in order to give it its full and proper emphasis; or lastly thus, Twelve I year since, | Miranda, | twelve [ year since, where in both instances * twelve' has a dissyllabic THE TEMPEST. 7 value. Seeing then that we have a right of way by four different roads, I protest against any attempt to interfere with or infringe this our fourfold liberty. From a question of prosody I pass to one of accidenee in the same Act and Scene, lines 172-174, where in the 'Globe' Shakespeare we find Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit Than other princesses can that have more time For vainer liours and tutors not so careful. But ' princesse,' or ^princess' is the word of the Folios; why, then, change to 'princesses' ? A plural noun, it will be said, is required; but, according to Sydney Walker's rule, "the plural of substantives ending in se,-sSi ce, are found without the usual addition of s or es, in pronunciation at least, although in many instances the plural suffix is added in printing, where the metre shows it is not to be pronounced." But here the plural suffix is not added, yet they add it ; the metre, so far from requiring it, rejects it, yet notwithstanding they add it. He who in ' King Henry V,' Act V, 2, 28, did not scruple to write, Your mightiness on both parts best can witness, where * mightinesses ' would have been as ill-sounding as it would have been inconvenient, was content, I cannot doubt, to write 'princess' here, where the plural termination is certainly not a metrical necessity. For my own part, 1 have a strong suspicion that there are more lines than this in Shakespeare, where the plural ending has been tacked on by the copyist, to the lengthening of the metre unnecessarily. 8 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. In Act I, 2, 306-307, we have an instance of what I cannot but call injudicious annotation ; the Folio has the strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me. Yet the Cambridge editors would like to read ^strange heaviness in me ' ! Surely these learned men must have been drowsing. The accommodation of sound to sense, as it is generally called, is a literary artifice perfectly familiar to all the great poets both of ancient and modern times. It would have been strange if Shakespeare had not occasionally availed himself of it in a species of composition in which of all others it is strikingly telling. He who admirably adapts both words and matter to the various characters whom he introduces, making a king speak like a king, a priest like a priest, a clown like a clown, sometimes also makes the words them- selves more expressive by the manner in which he arranges them — by the metrical value which he attaches to them : thus in the line in ' King Eichard III,' Act III, 7, 240, Long live Eichard, England's royal king, as we pause upon ' long,' we observe the length that the acclaimers affected to wish for Eichard's reign, and at the same time we satisfy the metre ; again in the line in ' King Eichard II,' Act I, 3, 118, Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down, as we linger on the first word, we make the stay THE TEMPEST. 9 that the king commanded ; and so in the line which commences with that drowsy word, ^Heaviness in me,' the poet admirably expresses the comatose feeling that had crept over Miranda under Prospero's magic charms, so that, even after the mighty wizard had bid her wake, we seem still to hear the magnetized maiden's sleepy tone. The rhythm here echoes the sense. I have hitherto in every instance without exception stuck fast to the reading of the Folio, but I am now going to propose an alteration not indeed in the words, but in the arrangement of the words, in Ariel's song. Act I, 2, 376-86, for which I must own I have neither Folio warrant, nor commentators' authority, yet still, I fancy, sense and reason and probability in my favour. The song is thus set down in the * Globe ' Shakespeare : Ariel's Sotig. Come unto these yellow sands. And then take hands : Courtsied when you have and kiss'd The wild waves whist. Foot it featly here and there ; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. Burthen, \dispersedly.'] Hark, hark ! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark : Bow-wow. Ari, Hark, hark ! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. 10 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Now was this the song as the author originally constructed and eventually left it? Was this his arrangement, this his termination of it ? Is it possible that the last line formed any part of it at all ? Has it not rather been tacked on by some transcriber or typographer, who either did not think, or did not know, what he was doing ? For my own part, I am not so surprised that it should have crept into the text, as that it should have been permitted so long to continue there ; that it should not have been challenged, should not even have been suspected by a single one of the numerous critics, whose names figure in the footnotes of the Cambridge Shakespeare, and who have not been backward with their offers of emendation in other parts of Shakespeare. Yet the oracles are dumb ; the vigilance of Theobald is eluded for once. For it is surely neither modern English, nor Shakespearian English, nor English at all — it exceeds even the large licence of poetry — to say, ' I hear the strain of chanticleer cry ' ! * Strain of chanticleer ' is enough in all conscience ; ' cnj* added is needlessly — I had almost said, is nonsens- ically added. It needs not, however, be obliterated ; it has a place proper to it, but not in the song ; it was in all probability a stage-direction ; had it been inclosed by brackets, the confusion would not have happened. * Cock-a-diddle-dow ' is the cry of the fowl, not the spirit's imitation of it. THE TEMPEST. 11 If it be objected tliat the bark of the watch- dogs is a part of the song, and that it is but reasonable that the crowing of the cock should be so too, I reply that the latratus canum, both in the first and in the second instance, is as distinctly extra-metric, as is the cry of chanticleer. And, as touching the rhyme, are we to suppose that the second ' Bow-wow ' rhymes to the first, and * Cock-a-diddle-dow ' to both ? The couplet Hark, hark ! The watch-dogs bark, is complete in itself ; to add ' Bow-wow ' to each line is to disarrange both. Observe the latter part of the song ; Full fathom five thy father lies ; Of his bones are coral made ; Those are pearls that were his eyes : Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Burthen. Ding-dong. Ari. Hark ! now I hear them, — Ding-dong, bell. Here it is manifest that 'Ding-dong, bell' rhymes to * knell.' The intermediate 'Ding-dong' has nothing whatever to rhyme to it. It is clearly extra metrum. Well then, this intermediate 'Ding-dong,' so distinctly extra-metric, justifies me in treating 'Bow- wow ' in a precisely similar manner. Grant this, 12 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and we have nothing for * Cock-a-dicldle-dow ' to rhyme to, and, I may add, we want nothing, if we arrange the passage thus : Come unto these yellow sands. And then take hands ; Courtsied when you have and kisa'd The wild waves whist, Foot it featly here and there. And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear : Burthen. [dis;persedly.'\ Hark, hark ! [Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark : [Bow-wow. Ariel, Hark, hark ! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer. [Cry. * Cock-a-diddle-dow.' I shall in all probability be asked, whether I can produce a single parallel from any other portion of Shakespeare's works of such an extraordinary blunder having been committed. A second example, though it would not conclusively prove the correctness of my surmise, might at least show that it was not impossible, and perhaps in the eyes of some might even give it an air of probability. One such example- then I am prepared to produce; those who are better acquainted with the Folios and Quartos than I can pretend to be will be able to supply other illustrations. Long after I had written my thoughts on the passage, my attention was drawn to a note in the 'Cambridge Shakespeare/ which informs us that THE TEMPEST; 13. in the Forester's song in 'As You Like It,' Act IV, 2, 11, — which, as it is printed in the Globe edition, commences thus, What shall he have that killed the deer ? His leather skin and horns to wear. Then sing him home ; \_The rest shall lear this lurden — the words 'Then sing him home, the rest shall bear this burthen ' are printed in the Folios as part of the song. Theobald first gave 'The rest shall bear this burden' as a stage-direction, whereas Knight, Collier, Dyce, take the whole to be a stage- direction. So then the mishap which I contend has befallen Ariel's song is neither without pajcallel nor destitute of credibility. I proceed to dilate on another passage at the very end of Act I, Sc. 2, lines 486-491, which is by no means unencumbered with difficulty. Ferdinand thus speaks, My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid. We seem here to be listening to a man who knows what he wants to say, but has a difficulty in saying it. His affirmations and his negations are at cross purposes; he contradicts himself, and confuses us.' May not the poet have intended the confusion, in order to mark the change which all of a sudden had 14 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. come over Ferdinand ? The magician had motioned with his wand, and the prince confesses that he is reduced to impotence. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. What wonder, if, thus spell-bound, his ideas, though upon the whole intelligible, are a little incoherently expressed; his language lacks its usual grammatical precision. His speech bewrays him; he is not the man that he was. The poet violates the law of grammar for the higher law of his art. From a man cTonfused what can we expect but confused utterances? This is quite as fair a way of dealing with the complication, as to say, as some do, that *nor is' a misprint for 'and' or for *or,' or that Shakespeare forgat himself, and, after beginning to express himself in one way, ended by expressing himself in a totally different way. There is another solution, however, possible, and some may think more probable* In most languages, the English language among others, it occasionally happens that, where the conjunctional expression * neither .. nor' has place, the first negative is omitted, and has to be mentally supplied by the reader. Thus we have in 1 Henry VI, Act I, 2, 142-43, Helen, the mother of great Constantine, Nor yet St. Philip's daughters, were like thee; and in 'Cymbeline,' Act Y, 1, 28, And thus, unknown. Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril Myself I'll dedicate. THE TEMPEST. 15 Sometimes, though more rarely, but one negative is expressed, where ordinarily we should have three, as in 'A Lover's Complaint,' 264, Vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine ; Daniel, as quoted in Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, Power, disgrace, nor death could aught avail This glorious tongue thus to reveal thy heart. Now let us suppose that in this passage in the * Tempest' we have an instance — a bold instance, if you like — of this undoubted English idiom. Whereas a prose-writer would have said, ^neither my father's loss, nor the weakness which I feel, nor the wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats are but light' • — that is, are otherwise than light — 'to me,' the poet, availing himself of a known idiom, obscure enough to indicate that the person represented had lost his self-possession, but not so obscure as to leave the hearer in the dark as to the meaning intended to be conveyed, omits all but the last negative, the presence of which idiomatically excuses the absence of the rest. Seeing that Shakespeare frequently accumulates negatives where we should only allow one, it would not be surprising if he occasionally reverted to the opposite idiom, and were sometimes as parsimonious, as he is at other times profuse. There is a hitch too, through the unexpected intervention of the preposition 'at,' in some lines spoken by Sebastian in Act II, 1, 130-31, 16 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at Which end of the beam should bow. What would be more easy than to cut down this troublesome little word, which stands in our way? And this is exactly what some would do. But the fair and upright critic will refuse to resort to such a murderous proceeding, until at any rate he has assured himself that he has reason and justice on his side. In days gone by prepositions were frequently used, where now we should not think of using them; and those were selected for use, which nowadays would not be selected. Such lines as I envy at their liberty, ' King John ' Act III, 4, 73 ; To have a godly peace concluded of, ' 1 Henry VI,' Act V, 1, 5 ; Let your highness Command upon me, 'Macbeth' Actlll, 1, 17; To whose sound chaste winds obey, ' The Phoenix and The Turtle ; ' would be rejected now as out of date and barbarous. And so in the ' Tempest ' a modern poet would have written, 'To weigh which end of the beam should bow,' but Shakespeare's age tolerated the interpolation of the preposition 'at,' upon which the noun- sentence, 'which end o' the beam should bow,' depends. Thus the subject of ihe verb * should bow ' THE TEMPEST. 17 is plainly 'wliicli end o' the beam,' and we must not be snared to midcrstand 'she' with Malone, or 'it' with Mr. Aldis Wright, much less listen to the more violent proposals of less discreet critics. Every lout in the theatre in Shakespeare's day would have swallowed as a gnat, what all the literati of later days have strained at as a camel. Illiterate and brutal as Caliban was, I cannot think that there is much amiss with the language used by him in Act II, 2, 15, 16, Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me For bringing wood in slowly, where the Cambridge editors would substitute *sent' for 'and.' But the conjunction 'and' has a great variety of uses in the plays of Shakespeare — in the English language. Witness such passages as Act II, 1, 252, of this play. She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue ; where, by the way, Mr. Spedding, unable to tolerate the loose and inartistic but by no means impossible expression, 'she that from whom,' had recourse to a change of punctuation, which, though it has been accepted by some editors, seems to me to be neither urgently needed, nor likely to be correct; also Act III, 3, 56, the never-surfeited sea Hath cans' d to belch up you, and on this island ; 18 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. * Merry Wives of Windsor,' Act III, 5, 72-78, Master Brook comes and at his heels a rabble... «w^, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love. * Midsummer Night's Dream,' Act II, 1, 192, And here am I, and wode within this wood. Caliban's 'and' may very well be let alone. As touching Act III, 1, 15, where the first Folio reads Most busy lest, when I doe it, the other Folios having 'least' for *lest,' the Cambridge editors tell us that, as none of the proposed emendations can be regarded as certain, they have left the reading of Fi, though it is manifestly corrupt. The spelling 'doe,' they add, makes Mr. Spedding's conjecture 'idlest' for 'I doe it ' more probable. For my part, I do not like Mr. Spedding's conjecture at all. If the text has not been imperfectly executed, the only meaning that the words will bear as we have them — and it is a meaning that it seems to me just possible that they may bear — is that Ferdinand represents himself as at once most busy, and least busy — a comma will have to be placed after ' busy,' and ' busy ' will have to be understood after ' least ' — most busy, because of the quantity of logs which he has to pile; least busy, because, when he does it, he is revived by the thought of Miranda on whose account he undergoes the task-work. In 'Midsummer Night's Dream,* THE TEMPEST; 19 Act V, 1, 105, the superlatives are similarly opposed, and in similar juxtaposition ; In least speak most to my capacity. I at one time thought that ' busiliest ' had originally stood, where * busy lest ' now stands — a mode of solving the problem, which I find has occurred to others before me; but this uncouth superlative, which might be placed in the same category as * proudlier ' in * Coriolanus,' and ' easiliest ' in * Cymbeline,' I cannot now regard with any favour. I am disposed to deal more summarily with the text. I am confident that the copyist wrote ' most busy ' by mistake, and, becoming conscious of it, too late added ' lest ' — which the other Folios show was intended for * least' — in its tvrong place after 'busy,' and then omitted to erase * most,' so that we have both the wrong word and the right word in the text — the right word unfortunately in the wrong place — * most busy least,' when we should have Least busy, when I do it, Ferdinand saying that, when actually engaged m his log-piling work, he is least busy, because of the love-thoughts which that work suggested. Such then is my ultimatum, and such also I find was Pope's conclusion, though, by what process of reasoning he arrived at it, I have not been able to ascertain. 20 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Is it a mere accident that by a slightly different arrangement in Act III, 3, 49-51, we can secure a rhyming couplet ? * I will stand to and feed, although my last : No matter, since I feel the best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke, stand to, and do as we. But we need not be punctilious about what is rather a question of form than of matter. Before I leave the troubled waters of the * Tempest,' I will just let down the sounding line at Act IV, 1, 61, where two epithets have caused no little agitation : but may not Thy banks with inoned and tivilled brims be the poet's way of describing a neat and well made hedge ? If, as Henley thought, ' pioned ' refers to the digging and facing — and the opinion should not have been received with such scorn by some — ' twilled ' may well refer to the ordering and interlacing the branches along the hedge. The reverse of the picture we have in lung Henry V, Act V, 2, 42-44, her hedges even-pleach'd. Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair. Put forth disorder'd twigs. A comparison between the two passages, presented in parallel columns, if it does not confirm, will not invalidate the interpretation which I have suggested. • Note : I find tliat this has been already noticed by Mason. THE TEMPEST. *THE TEMPEST.' 'KINa HENRY V.' 1. rich leas 1. vineyards 2. turfy mountains 2. hedges even-pleacKd 8. flat meads 3. fallow leas 4. lanJcs tvith pioned and hvilled Iritns 4. et^m meads 5. broom-groves 6. pole-dipt vineyards 7. sea-marge 21 In the 164th Hne of this same scene Theobald was in all probability right, when he proposed to read Come with a thought. I thank you : — Ariel, come. Even if we do not change * thee ' into * you,' as he did, we should certainly punctuate, as he did, in which case *thee' must be taken as referring to Ferdinand only. 22 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEKONA. The difficulties which confront ns in *The Two Gentlemen Of Verona' are for the most part of a geographical character, and they are of such exceptional magnitude, that they have baffled every effort which has been made hitherto to bring them into harmony with the rest of the play. Having recently made a fresh attempt to explore them, I propose to state as succinctly as I can the results of my observations, and I shall leave it to those who are competent judges to say, how far I have succeeded in breaking the ice, and opening a track which may be safely followed by future investigators. There are three well-known passages, where the obstacles to progress are seemingly insurmountable. In Act II, 5, 2, Speed welcomes Launce to Padua, when there is not a doubt that they were both in Milan. In Act III, 1, 81, the Duke of Milan, while con- versing with Valentine in Milan, speaks of a lady in * Verona here' In Act V, 4, 129, Valentine declares to Thurio, who was a citizen of Milaiit that, if once again he THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 23 laid claim to Silvia, Verona should not hold him, whereas it is thought that he should have said that Milan should not. "What are we to make of these seeming contra- dictions? Are we to say that they are errors? and, if errors, errors of the copyist, or errors of the author? or, if not errors, how are we to explain them? Choose which line of defence we will, we shall have enough to do to make good our position. Let us suppose that a transcriber made the first- mentioned blunder — that he set down Padua, when Milan was black as ink before his face : is it likely that he would have made two more Geographical blunders in a play, in the rest of which he has done his work upon the whole so exceedingly well, that he has left the critics hardly any thing to fight about ? "We should have expected either more accuracy in the topography, or less accuracy in the other matter. We will suppose, however, that geography was a weak point of his ; the worst part of the tangle yet remains ; he could not have made the second and the third errors without deliberately tampering with the text, Milan and Yerona not being metrically interchangeable. Now to alter a line, or to make a fresh one, is not a thing to be done offhand; at any rate, it is not exactly the task that we should imagine that a copyist would without any apparent object set himself. And yet in this case we are asked to believe that in two separate instances he has either altered 24 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. the original line, or composed a fresh one, and that he has done it so capitally, that, but for the bad geography, we should not have known that the lines were not Shakespeare's own. I cannot believe that a copyist would have attempted any such thing, or that, if he attempted it, he would so well have executed it. A simpleton would not have left us such good lines ; a prudent and cai'eful copyist should not have left such bad geography. Patchwork is usually easily discoverable. It is not easy to detect it here. I reject, therefore, the theory, that the mistakes, if mistakes they are, were made, at least all of them, in the copying or the printing. Were they, then, made by the author? This seems to me to be even more improbable. It is true tliat Shakespeare has not been always accurate in his geography, but he has not been inconsistent in his inaccuracy ; he has not in one and the same play contradicted himself; he has not, for example, in one Act made Bohemia an inland, in another Act a mari- time, country. This I contend that a dramatist of Shakespeare's brilliant genius, comprehensive know- ledge, marvellous general accuracy, and uncommon power could not have done. To geographical accuracy a dramatist is not bound ; to geographical consistency he is. This distinction it is essential to bear in mind. If, then, the names of places set down in the passages I have indicated in the 3rd and in the 5th Acts of ' The Two G-entlemen Of Yerona ' were set THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 25 down by Shakespeare, depend upon it, they admit of being explained. We will suppose, however, that Shakespeare set them down, and set them down by mistake — that he overlooked two glaring contra- dictions in the composition, in the transcription, in the rehearsals, in the representation of the play. He lived in an age, which, so to speak, was dramatically educated. Among his audience were many who were intelligent, many who were able to criticize — some who were disposed to be captious and censorious. Were there none among the actors, were there not many among the playgoers, sharp enough to detect at once such palpable incongruities ? Say they passed one night ; could they have passed night after night ? Would not some friend have whispered them ? some enemy have noised them abroad ? Shakespeare corrected, revised, recast many of his plays; would he have left blots such as these, if he had made them ? Where else in any single play of his can we find such dramatic impossibilities? These are egregious errors : err Shakespeare might, but not to the extent that these errors would imply. And if the play had been a very complicated one, if there had been a constant shifting of the scene to a number of different places, we might have allowed for a slight lapse or two, though hardly then for three serious blunders ; but, when the play is so extremely simple, and the scenes are laid, if we exclude the forest scene, in two places, and two places only, namely 26 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Milan and Yerona, no one who was not either very stupid, or habitually careless, could have gone so far out of the way. In every other portion of the play the topography is just as it should be : where Milan should be, there we have Milan; where Yerona, there Yerona. The author's general geographical accuracy forbids us to believe that he faltered in these three particular instances. A skilful composer could not leave in a piece of music three discordant notes. Is it possible, then, that these so-called blunders may not, save perhaps one of them, be blunders at all, but correct copies from the author's correct MS ? For to this corner we are now driven, and it would seem to be our last and only standing-ground. I acknowledge that I am not prepared to. defend the first geographical inaccuracy. If Speed's * Welcome to Padua ' were executed by Shakespeare, I am positive that it would admit of being explained somehow; but the only explanation that I can conceive possible is that, the moment Speed saw Launce, he began to play the fool, shouting out the name of a city in the very opposite direction to that to which they had come, viz. Padua, which lay to the East, rather than Milan, which lay to the West of Yerona ; to which Launce paid no manner of heed, being too much taken up with a thought of a visit to the tavern at Speed's expense. It is even just possible that Padua was lugged in for the sake of an THE TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 27 execrable pun on the word, to which Launce promptly responded, when he claimed that * certain shot should be paicV I do not, however, really believe that Padua ever blotted the author's MS ; I believe it to have been an after-insertion by another hand ; I pronounce it a gross blunder. It may be accounted for in this way. Launce no sooner heard the word * Welcome ' drop from Speed's lips, than without giving him time to utter a syllable more, if at least he intended to utter more, he took him up smartly, cavilling at a word, which had no mean- ing to him, unless it were accompanied with the rattle of ale-glasses. The passage, then, I take it, originally stood thus, * Launce, by mine honesty ! welcome,' or, ' welcome to — .' The name of the place was purposely omitted ; but those who took upon them to revise Shakespeare's plays could not understand the reason of the omission ; they filled up the void, but filled it up badly, inserting Padua, when they should have inserted Milan, "VVhy they should have inserted Padua, which is not so much as once mentioned in the play, we can only conjecture. Perhaps the learned dons had in their minds the famous university of Padua, whither they fancied at the moment that the young Italians had come to pursue their studies ; perhaps Verona and Padua were so intimately associated in their minds from their occurring repeatedly in ' The Taming Of Tne Shrew,' that they made Valentine here, as 28 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Petrucchio there, come from Verona to Pacha, rather than, as they should have clone, from Verona to Milan ; perhaps it was a mere fit of mental absence, for which, however, we must not hold either the transcriber or the printer, much less the author, responsible. Having thus obliterated the first of the topographical difficulties, I proceed to an examination of the second, which is much more pronounced and enigmatical ; for it is interwoven with the metre ; it holds its place easily, and as it were by right. Yet how is it possible that it can be right ? The Duke of Milaiiy speaking to Valentine, evidently in Milan, says — There is a lady in Vero^m here I Did the Duke mean that there was a Veronese lady sojourning in Milan ? or that the lady dwelt in a Veronese quarter of the city ? But neither of these explanations will be accepted as satisfactory. Did he, then, lest haply he should arouse too early Valentine's suspicion, and so defeat his own object, which was first to blind, and then to trap him, 'put the case hypotJietically, so far as the place ivas concerned; just as sometimes we, not caring to particularize the place which we have in our minds, substitute for it for the nonce some other place — 'let us call it,' we say, 'Paris, or Berlin, or Vienna, any place you like' — and so the Duke, affecting to ask Valentine's advice in his imaginary love-fix, put the case THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 29 hypothetically — if it were Yerona, what would Valentine do ? There might have been deep and crafty policy in laying the scene at Verona; for, if Valentine had scented danger, he might have pleaded inability to give an opinion as to what had best be done in a city in which he was a comparative stranger; his own native place being chosen, he had no alternative but to walk straight to the pit into which he fell. In a got-up story, in which, so far as the Duke was concerned, there was not an atom of truth from beginning to end, and the object of which was, at any rate in the first instance, to throw dust into the eyes of Valentine, some allowance may be made for a certain amount of unreality — of mystification. But I have yet another, and, if am not mistaken, a stronger string to my bow. At any rate the view of the matter which I am now about to put forward is entitled to consideration. Just after the Duke had been informed by Proteus of Valentine's intended elopement, he espied Valentine hurrying away as fast as he could; on his asking him the object of his haste, Valentine replied that he merely wanted to despatch a letter of no great importance to his friends in Verona. A letter he had in his possession sure enough, and anxious enough he was that it should be safely delivered; hut his Verona was situated near the very spot that he was then treading with his feet; it was in the Duke's 30 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. palace in Milan; it was (to use now the Duke's own words) 'm Verona here'; and the friend, to whom the letter was addressed, was a lady in that same Pseudo- Verona; it was no other than Silvia, the Duke's own daughter. The Duke was perfectly- aware of all this : when, then, Valentine, in the most innocent manner in the world asked, What would your Grace have me to do in this, and the Duke answered. There is a lady in Verona here, he sounded the veiy depths of Valentine's deceit; he answered Valentine according to Valentine's own geography, he echoed back to him his lie — Verona — with a flash of truth in it — here. If Valentine did not at once perceive that mischief was brewing, it was not long ere he discovered it; meanwhile the Duke's eye, the Duke's tone, the Duke's manner, as he named a geographical impossibility, a geographical absurdity, fairly shook the house with laughter. Wlien at last the letter dropped from the cloak, and the Duke read it aloud, and it became manifest that Valentine's Verona was in Milan, and the friend he was corresponding with was a lady there, then was felt the full force and fun of that mysterious announcement, that extraordinary piece of Cloud - cuckooism to fall from the lips of a Duke of Milan in Milan, proved, however, to be strictly and strikingly true — ' Verona here.' To find the place, we must not look into Keith Johnson's Atlas, but THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 31 into Valentine's love-map. It may serve as some little confirmation of this view of the question, that in no other part of this Act is there the slightest confusion between the two places, but only where the Duke is engaged in unearthing Valentine's secret. I now come to the last, I had almost said the least, of the three geographical puzzles, where Valentine, indignant that Thurio should lay claim to- Silvia, tells him that, if he did it again, * Verona should not hold him.' It is assumed that Shakespeare meant Valentine to say, that Thurio should never see his own city alive again ; and, if such had been the poet's intention, undoubtedly we should have expected some such words as Theobald has proposed, ' Milan shall not behold thee.' But there is no occasion for such licentious emendation; we have merely to re- arrange the stops — to substitute a semi-colon or a comma for the present full stop after * Verona shall not hold thee,' in order to show how closely that sentence is bound up with the words that follow, and then it becomes merely a question of what meaning should be given to the verb *hold.' * Verona shall not hold thee ' may mean * Verona shall not receive you within the circuit of its walls,' or * Verona shall not be a stronghold to thee,' or * Verona shall not keep thee in check.' Take the last meaning first, which is possibly the least likely. *Hold' would be used in the sense of 'withhold,' 3'2 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. * restrain,' ' clieck ' — the simple verb for the compound, more Shakespeariano. *Do not fancy,' Valentine would say, ' that I shall look to the fortifi- cations of Verona to keep thee at a distance from me; lo! I, I, Valentine, alone and undefended, pit myself against thee, and here, yes, here, and not in Verona, aye, and at this very instant, I challenge thee to the combat.' Or, if the meaning rather be, ' Verona shall not serve as a stronghold to thee,' Valentine supposes that Thurio might flee to that, the nearest inhabited and fortified city, in the hope of finding there a refuge and hiding-place. Or it may be simply, * Verona shall not receive you within its compass ; I shall not wait for you to follow me thither to prosecute your claim, or to repeat your insulting interference ; it is not there, it is here that the matter shall be be decided ' ; here she stands ; I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. I suggest these various modes of solving the problem, without selecting any particular one of them; it is sufficient if they are possible; the critics must choose which is the most probable. Perhaps there was a purposed vagueness in the threat, just as we hear angry people sometimes cry out, *Let me catch you there, that's all ' — indicating the spot where they themselves are usually to be found. This last difficulty, then, I consider a mere bogey conjured THE TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 33 lip by the commentators; we are seared to no pm-pose. It is true that we may not perceive the exact shade of meaning which the author intended should be given to the words, but we may be certain that he, who, before he wrote this play, had carefully and successfully adapted several, and was already beginning to be favourably known as an original playwright, to whom it was a matter of precious reputation, as well as of pecuniaiy interest (to say nothing of his innate love for literary excellence per se), to observe all the dramatic proprieties — we may be certain, I say, that he would not have written carelessly and at random, much less have left a grave error that a novice could hardly have been guilty of. There is a difficulty of a totally different kind in Act V, 4, 82-83, which has given a deal of trouble to commentators. When Proteus found himself face to face with Valentine whom he had deceived and betrayed, and could no longer conceal his base unnatural conduct, overwhelmed with shame and remorse, he confessed his guilt, and implored forgiveness. Valentine, feeling that such an abandoned transgressor needed something more than the ordinary 'I forgive you,' wishing to make him feel that he was forgiven without stint or grudging, addressed to him, by way of encouragement, this remarkable assurance, And that my love may appear plain and free, All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. 34^ ' HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. These words, which have quite dumbfounclered the expositors, seem to rae to express not so much the quantity, as the quahty of the love, which Valentine promised. Proteus well knew, how deep, how full, how true, how stedfast had been Valentine's love for Silvia. Such then was the kind of love which Valentine assured Proteus he might count on. In thus giving to Proteus, was he taking from Silvia? In restoring him, was he renouncing her? Was he shaking his hand, and wringing her heart ? Impossible : he was merely giving his penitent friend the strongest pledge that it was possible for him to give that bygones should be bygones. But even supposing that quantity rather than quality of love were here indicated — no matter. Give as much as Valentine might to Proteus, he would have no lack of love for Silvia. There is no bankruptcy in love. It is inexhaustible as the sea, infinite as eternity. The more it spreads, the more intense and immense are its fires. To borrow an illustration suggested hj the context, the eternal Father, in restoring to his bosom the returned prodigal, does not reject from it the unfallen child; he guarantees to the former all the love that had been his in the latter^ without detracting aught Jrom the latter^ The multiplication of objects loved is a manifestation and magnification of love. It may be objected, that Julia, who swooned immediately she heard the words, understood tliem otherwise. Possibly soj THE TWO GENTLEMEN OP VERONA. 35 biit that would not prove that Valentine otherwise intended them. Here, as elsewhere, e.g.^ in 'Eomeo and JuHet,' Act III, 5, 95, the poet uses words that are capable of being understood two ways; the ambiguity was perhaps necessary at a critical junctm-e; matters as between Valentine and Proteus had come to a head, causing immense sensation. There was need of some startling incident to sustain the interest, to divert and arrest the attention. The fainting fit of Julia is a sort of ^Deus ex machina^ — a special interposition. The ruse succeeds. We turn without an effort, nay, with eager interest and curiosity, Trom Valentine and Proteus to Proteus and Julia. Thus are the threads of the piece all taken up, and woven together so as to form one beautiful whole of elaborate and exquisite workman- ship. 36 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. MEASURE FOR IVIEASURE. We have hardly read half a dozen lines in * Measure for Measure,' before we come, at any rate in the 'Globe' Shakespeare, to a breach in the text, the vacant space being filled with a number of dots, the miserable substitutes of not less than two half lines which are supposed to have been lost. It is true that there are no dots in the Folios, nor any traces of any interruption; but the want of a finite verb, the prolongation of the metre, and a supposed harshness of rhythm, have led editors to conclude with Theobald — an excellent, but not an infallible judge — that the metrical chain has been broken: accordingly the Duke's opening address is thus presented to us : Of government the properties to unfold, "Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse ; Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you : then no more remains But that to your sufiiciency as your worth is able. Most readers will acquiesce in this arrangement, without stopping to consider whether it is right or MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 37 not. But the critic may not be so complicont. It is liis business to strike out the conjectural clots, and try how the two fragmentary halves will read, as they appear in the Folios, as a whole. And this is what first strikes us, that the line of the Folios will scan; the rhythm may be a little harsh and jumping, but not more so than in a number of other lines, which are found in Shakespeare, the soundness of which has never been contested. As for the line being an Alexandrine, that can be no solid ground for rejecting it, Alexandrines being a recognized portion of Shakespearian versification. If, however, we are pressed to assign a reason for one being introduced here, we might plead that it conveys with more than ordinary solemnity and emphasis the Duke's estimate of Escalus' high character. Undoubtedly there is a verb wanting for the clause, *but that to your sufficiency,' but verbal ellipses are common both in the dialogue and in the drama, and if the present instance may not be catalogued with such examples as I'll to this gear, Let him to field, Come answer not, but to it presently, I to this fortune that you see me in, ' Comedy of Errors,' Act Y, 1, 355, Come, Friar Francis, be brief ; only to the plain form of marriage , 'Much Ado About Nothing,' Act IV, 1, 1, — the last but one being particularly noticeable for B8 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. its close and striking resemblance — we may remark that it is quite in Shakespeare's style to use at times a common idiom in a slightly uncommon way; a subtle critic might even argue that there is a special fitness in the verb being suppressed here; the Duke on the eve of a hurried departure has no time for superfluous diction or regular formal grammatical instructions; his words are brief, or at least as brief as ducal dignity and the gravity of the occasion allow. He exhorts Escalus to have recourse to — some such phrase has to be supplied — his sufficiency, to the utmost ability of his worth. By 'sufficiency' is meant intellectual capability, by 'worth' high character, the two capital qualifications of a civil governour. To be sure, the adjective 'sufficient' is used more frequently in this sense than the noun, yet in 'Winter's Tale,' Cleomenes and Dion are*said to be of 'stuffed sufficiency,' and compare 'Othello,* Act I, 3, 224. There is no need, then, to split the line of the Folios into two separate halves; still less to discredit the phrase (as has been done very lately) *I am put to know' — a rare bit of good old English, which should on no account be disturbed. Perhaps we are more familiar with the phrase, 'I am given to know ' ; yet we still speak of ' ^mtting a person up to a thing,' and in 'Othello,' Act III, 4, 29, Desdemona says that her loss of the handkerchief, which Othello had given her, were enough To put him to ill thinking. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 39 In Spite, then, of the pages which have heen written on this passage, to which I am adding one page more, I see no sufficient reason for distrusting here the chart of the Folios ; but I am not prepared to go by the Fohos' chart, as I presume that the * Globe' editors do, when in Act I, 2, 125, they make Claudio say, Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight The words of heaven ; on whom it will, it will ; On whom it will not, so ; yet still 'tis just. The punctuation here seems to me to be faulty. *The words of heaven' should not be connected grammatically with the preceding line; it should stand independently; any roughness of construction is amply compensated for by raciness of expression. Such exclamatory moralizings are conversational — • are dramatic; there is an ease and offhandedness about them which is natural. Somewhat in the same strain are thos6 words in 'The Comedy of Errors,' Act IV, 4, 45,— these resemblances are worth observing — The prophecy like the parrot, * beware the rope's-end.' A colon, then, should be placed after 'weight,' and after 'The words of heaven,' a comma, or else a hyphen should stand. Nor can there be a question that editors are i;jght, when they refuse to believe that Shakespeare, notwithstanding a habit he has of occasionally mixing together different metaphors, could possibly 40 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. have written 'curbs to headstrong weeds,' m the 20th Hne of the 3rd Scene. We have strict statutes and most biting laws, The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, "Which for this nineteen years we have let slip. Theobald, I beheve, was the first to suggest 'steeds/ — an obvious and by no means impossible correction, which has been end,orsed by many editors ; no one has whispered the simpler word ' deeds ' ; yet, when I come across such passages as The reverence of your highness curls me from giving reins and spurs to my free speech. and in ' The Taming of the Shrew,' I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour, I cannot but think that the metaphor, which is dropt in * speech ' and in 'humour,' may have been dropt also in 'deeds,' which, and not 'steeds,' I reckon that Shakespeare wrote. The insertioi^ ;^ -^ wrong letter, lo for d, is, I need scarcely sn common printer's error. Here too is a line w the critics may ponder, where the very wo'> I favour is found after exactly the same metaphor, A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds. ' Troilus and Cressida,' Act II, 2, 0. Further down in the 3rd Scene, the 42nd and 43rd lines have given a lot of trouble to commentators ; I have on Angelo imposed the oflBce ; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. And yet my nature never in the fight To do in slander. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 41 The Duke's name and the Duke's nature are evidently here placed in contradistinction to each other, his *name representing his magisterial and judicial authority which was a terror to evil doers, his * nature' a byword for kindness and indulgence which had been too ready to overlook offences. Things had come to such a pass that a change of policy was absolutely necessary. The 'name' of terror must occupy the foreground; the good easy * nature' must stand back. The Duke had arranged that the two should be separated; his 'name' he w^ould leave behind him; his 'nature' he would carry with him far from the scene of contention. Angfcio was in ambush in his 'name,' authorized to act, tvilling to strike. Had the Duhe remained, and tal:en an active part in the prosecution of offenders ; hhci he shown that he could not not only pass laws, . ^jut them in force — that he could dare to strike, execute, to kill — in a word (and it is the word ich I believe Shakespeare puts into the mouth of ti . Duke here, a mild little word, if you like, as the na'^ure of the Duke was mild, but the significance ak - comprehensiveness of which cannot be mistaken) 'to doy he could not have escaped malignant misrepresentation for having so long permitted what now he punished. By absenting himself and empowering Angelo to act in his name, the blow would be struck, the deed done, yet the slander avoided. Such I conceive to be the gist af 42 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. the passage. With regard to the meaning which I have given to 'Jo,' we may call to mind such phrases as *to do him dead' (3 Henry VI), 'do execution on the watch' (1 Henry VI), and that mysterious threatening of the witch in 'Macbeth,' I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do 5 and 2 King Henry VI, Act III, 1, 195-96, My lords, what to your wisdoms seeraeth best. Do or undo, as if ourself were here ; and yet again 3 King Henry VI, Act II, 6, 105, Warwick, as ourself. Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. There are various degrees of punishment, and various modes of dealing with offenders. To do is a dark word which sums up all. After i my nature' the verb ' may be ' must be supplied. Upon the whole, then, I consider that the difficulty of this passage has fceen exaggerated. It stands now as it stood even As the actor intelligently repeated it, giving each word its proper emphasis, an Elizabethan audience would 'take the meaning' at once. Was there any imperfection? Well then, the poet left it to them *to piece it out with their thoughts.' In tlie next Scene, — Act I, 4, 30 — many have stumbled over the half line, Sir, make me not your story, and, failing to understand it, would fain have altered it. But Isabella does not say, ' make me not the subject of your story,' but 'none of your story- MEASURE rOR MEASURE. 4S telling, I pray,' or 'none of yonr story-telling to me,' as is evident from Lucio's replying, ''Tis true,' as though, in what she had said to him, she had expressed a doubt of his veracity. 'Me' is not an objective case after a factitive verb, but a dative. We may compare it with such expressions as Come me to what was done to her ; Leave me your snatches ; Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. ' To make a story ' is a phrase which needs neither explanation nor illustration. Having removed this stumbling block, I pass to a passage in Act II, 1, 39, where the question is not as to the meaning, but as to the exact words in which that meaning was intended to be conveyed. 'Brakes of ice ' is the phrase of the Folios ; ' brakes of vice,' has been suggested as more appropriate and probable: the change is a small one, involving the addition of but a single letter, and that letter the letter of all others most likely to have fallen out after an /: moreover it supplies an excellent antithesis — Well, heaven forgive him ! and forgive us all ! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall : Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none, And some condemned for a fault alone. A miscarriage in the administration of justice is' the theme descanted on. The lucky undeserved escape of some is contrasted with the luckless hardly deserved capture of others ; the latter for a mora slip 44 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. of the foot, a stumble, a fall — 'a fault alone,' as the text has it — are pounced upon, arrested, arraigned, condemned, punished; the former run from 'brakes of — what? Whatever the word be, it is evident that it should indicate some great and grievous trans- gression, some heinous sin, the very opposite of *a fault alone.' Let us remember that it is poetry, and not prose that we are reading. Why not then * brakes of ice?" 'Breaks of ice' — I adopt the modern spelling — brings before us a vast frozen expanse, with a number of rifts and chasms, traps of death, pools of destruction, where we should expect not one fall only, but a succession of them — a drenching at the very least, if not a drowning — yet there are some who get off without any such disastrous conse- quences — without a scar, a bruise — get off at a run. Miraculous escape, indeed! Now if physical oc- currences may be used to picture moral haps, how could we have more vividly represented to us vast mischief done, vast risks undergone, ruin wrought for many, with, strange to say! safety to self? This is what the context demands, and this ' brakes of ice ' supplies. By all means retain it, therefore, neither obliterating it, nor adding a letter. I shall next take notice of a passage in Act III, 1, 126-128, where the question is not merely one of dry grammar, but involves also physiological, not to say spiritualistic, considerations. In those magnificent lines, where Claudio, imagining that he had come ta MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 45 the very confines of the grave, shrinks from the dark outlook, and sums the dreadful possibilities of future existence, he supposes the following horror, to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling. What part of speech is * thought,' and what is its relation to the rest of the sentence? Is it a participle, or is it a noun? Who are they that imagine howling? The spirits of the damned? or others who imagine they hear them howling? The latter, I take it, in both cases. ' Thought ' is a singular noun in the nominative case, which by a Shakespearian licence, of which we are not without examples, is the subject of the plural verb ' imagine,' unless it be allowed that the continual recurrence of the thought gives to a singular noun a plural signification, or, as a last resort, it be surmised that the plural termination has been accidently omitted by the copyist. Anyhow, explain it as you will, * thought' is the subject of the verb 'imagine.' * Lawless and incertain thought ' is a periphrasis expressive of the mental idiosyncracy of lunatics. It is they who fancy they hear the damned ones howl. This connexion be- tween the maniac and the demon — a subtle theological mystery ! a dreadful physiological problem ! — is often touched by Shakespeare in those of his plays, in which maniacs, or would-be maniacs figure, — comic- ally in the ' Comedy of Errors,' tragically in ' King '4Q HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Lear ' ; but, not to take too wide a range at present, the passage, to which I wish to draw particular attention, as bearing more immediately on that which is now being considered, is in 'Troilus and Cressida,' Act V, 10, 29, I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldelh goblins sivift as frenzifs thoughts. Here, if I am right in tliinking that * mould goblins * should be supplied after ' frenzy's thoughts,' we have a striking parallel to Claudio's words, and one which illustrates the interpretation which I have given of tliem. At the end of the third Act there are a score or so of octosyllabic lines, within the short space of which we are asked to believe that no less than three pass- ages are hopelessly corrupt. This is such an unusual number of errors at such short intervals, that we are strongly inclined to suspect the judgment of the critics rather than the accuracy of the copyists. It is the practice of expositors to tell us, when they are puzzled for a meaning, that some lines have been lost. This plea cannot be urged here; the lines rhyme, and neither the rhyme, nor the rhythm can reasonably be objected to. Nor can there be any doubt as to the general drift of the passage : He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe, Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go, can only mean that Heaven's sword-bearer should MEASURE FOR MEASURE. ^ have a pattern withiii himself of what is right, in order that he may know what lie ought to do ; should have grace in order that he may be able ta stand; should have virtue, in order that he may make progress, or, in a word, * go.' What then is objected to ? I suppose it is the insufiiciency of the words to convey that meaning, the baldness of the syntax, in fact, the extreme brevity. But this is hardly a fault at all ; and Shakespeare some- times, for force and vigour's sake, hesitates not to carry terseness even to the verge of obscurity. Nor is it to be wondered, if, where the metre is so short, the diction should be a little scanted ; the exigency of the rhyme must be taken into account; in octosyllabics there is positively not room for a host of monosyllables ; if there is to be much expression, there must be some ellipse. Provided the sense is clear, what matters it if the sjTitax is a little indistinct ? The licence of omission here is not nearly as bold as it is in lines of the same length in * Pericles.' Whether, then, we consider Shakespeare's general style, or the metrical necessity of this particular passage, we see no sufficient reason for fault-finding here. But a little further on, where we come to the lines, 0, what may man within him hide. Though angel on the outward side ! How may Hkeness made in crimes, Making practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings Most ponderous and substantial things L 48 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. there does seem something out of joint ; we catch the sense, but we miss the sequence ; a finite verb is wanting. Our first impulse is to look at the sehtence immediately preceding, and borrow, if we can, a verb for the occasion ; but ' hide ' — the only verb available — though it just serves, hardly suits. What then? Admitting this, have we exhausted every available resource ? Not so : it is a well- known fact that one verb is sometimes made to serve for two clauses, which in its strict acceptation applies only to one of them. The usual plan is to take out of the verb which is expressed the idea which is required. We may do so here. ' Dissemble,' suggested by the verb 'hide,' will answer our purpose. This is not a Shakespearian peculiarity ; it is not even a poetical license; it is a perfectly legitimate literary artifice. So then it was not for the printer, nor for the transcriber, nor even for the author, unless he chose to do so, to supply a verb — it is for the good sense of the reader to borrow one. Nor is this the only way of getting out of the difficulty ; there is another equally possible, if not equally probable; for do but interpose a hyphen between the preposition ' to ' and the verb * draw,' and the infinitive is an infinitive no longer; it becomes a finite verb ; the stone of stumbling is a stepping stone of progress ; examples of such verbs abound in Chaucer — in Spenser; the reader will insist on my showing that Shakespeare was not MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 49 Jiverse to the iiso c^f Mioin; \\cvo (Iumi :iro two instjuiccs, Olio of tlioiu :i(, nny vnio u\\C(^\\l\o\cviod and uiicoiitroYortible : 'l\lon;v Wivi^s «>!' W'iiulMor,' Act IV, 4, 57, Tlu'ii Id lliom all oiU'ii'rU' liiiii nboiil. Aiul, fiiiry-likc, Lt)-[)iiicii llui uiiclciiii Lni;;h(.. * rericlcs,' Act lY, C), '2'A, Now, th(i ^"tula (o-blcHS your lunioiir ! If tliG last-mcntionod luodo of (;.\|)l;i,iiiiii«.j Uio ))nHMnKO involves tlic iiccc])tjiiico of iin old fiiHliioncd mid now disused coinpoiuid, it jnusi l)o roiiieiidxudd iJini. archaisms are of more fre(|iient ocemicnce in tlio octosyllabic, tlum tlioy jir<; in ilie ordiii;uy decasyllabic lines. But I tliiiik I hear tlio critics say, *lf. will not do; it is too far-f(jtclj(!d, too strainrMi, too ;iM(,i(|ii;iJ,(;d.' Well then, if tliey will yet bciU" wiili me ;i, 1 1 1,1,1c, I will start one tlieory more, wliieli lilmJI be liimplc, easy, unobjectiouable', and iJioroii/dily ,Sliii,k(''i|)c;i,»i;m, and one ]>y wliicb I for my pnrt lilnill b(; fjniio willing t]j!it IJje passage hIjuII i;l;uid or fjilK Although it is tlie custom nowadayii to omit the preposition ' to ' before tlie inlinilive uiU-.r \vli;if, uxo called the anxiiiary verl;;;, iMicJi ;i.:-; ' m;iy,' ' r,;uj,' 'will,' and the like, yet in the ' ;ajl,i'jM;iry limes' tliis orjjJ:-;:-ion was }jy no nje;iri'i jn-,;i,ri;iJJ': ; ;i,;i a matter of fact, Ihf; si^nj of Ih'; mfmilive waH vcry frequently in:-.ortcd. Now tShuke;;];euj'e, who ■■,Uui(iii 50 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. intennecliately between the ancients and the moderns, although in this particular he is fortunately more frequently at one with us, yet occasionally sides with them. This will be found to be mostly the case, where the infinitive precedes the auxiliary, or where it is separated from it by a parenthesis, or by a subordinate clause, or by a succession of subordinate clauses ; where, therefore, it was deemed advisable, for clearness' sake, to mark the infinitive by its proper sign. The following passages will strikingly and sufficiently illustrate what I have said : * Tempest,' Act III, 1, 61-63, I would, not so ! — and would no more endttre This wooden slavery than to suffer The fiesh-fly blow my mouth. * Comedy of Errors,' Act V, 1, 14-16, I wonder much That you tvouldput me to this shame and trouble, And, not without some scandal to yourself. With circumstance and oaths so to deny This chain which now you wear so openly. 'All's Well That Ends Well,' Act n, 5, 52, I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve, at my hand. ' 2 Henry VI,' Act II, 1, 127-28, If thou hadst been born blind, thou miglitst as well have hioivn all our names as thus to name the several colours we do wear. * 2 Henry IV, Act I, 2, 213, To approve my youth further, / tvill not. . MEASURE FOR MEASURE* 51 *^Troiliis and Cressicia,' Act V, 1, 104, I will rather leave to see Hector, than not to dog him. * OtheUo,' Act I, 3, 191, I had rather to adopt a child than get it. Pericles, Act II, 5, 16, 17, She'll wed the stranger knight, Or never more to view nor day nor light. These quotations — and more might be added — may be compared to so many scattered rays, which, when taken one by one, throw but a pale and doubtful light over the obscurity of our way, but, when concentrated, they supply a powerful illuminating body, which shows up every part clearly and distinctly. With a change of times forms of speech have changed ; and what the most sagacious critics have toiled in vain to discover was apprehended readily and at once in Shakespeare's time by every blockhead, who could pay his shilling to secure a seat in the theatre. Nor should we have remained so long in the darkness of ignorance, had half as much time been spent in mastering Shakespeare's style, and marking his phraseology, as in presupposing corruption, and busying om-selves in either pulling down, or building up, each according to the fashion of his own fancy. The distance of the infinitive from the auxiliary, on which it depends, explains and excuses the inter- 52 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. position of ' to ' between * may ' and * draw.' The passage is sound sans crack or flaw. The Act closes with So disguise may, by the disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. * Disguised ' has been suspected, because * disguise ' immediately precedes. The suspicion is unreason- able. The repetition is in harmony with the character of the piece. The play is full of disguises. Isabella disguised her real intentions, and promised to meet Angelo, though she never had any intention of meeting him ; Mariana disguised herself, and personated Isabella; in this word the former, in that the latter is probably alluded to. I am fully aware, however, that the Duke was the dis- guised figure par excellence of the play ; it was he who moved behind the scenes, and took his full share in the development of the plot; he trapped, caught, and convicted the hypocrite ; through him the old contract was consummated. If any, therefore, choose to insist that 'the disguised' points rather to the Duhe than to Mariana, though I do not myself prefer that view, I will not take upon myself to say that it is impossible. THE COMEDY OP ERRORS. 53 THE COMEDY OF EREOES. In * The Comedy of Errors ' I should not think it necessary to say a word on Act I, 1, 37-39, In Syracusa was I born, and wed Unto a woman, happy but for me. And by me, had not our hap been bad, if the writer of the second FoHo had not, by inter- polating 'too' after 'by me' in the last line, sown a suspicion, which has since taken root and grown, that the metre is defective. But, if defect there were, it would not be set right by a miserable expletive. As a matter of fact, there is no defect?* the line may be scanned as an Iambic Dimeter, or *our' may pass, as it does sometimes, as a dissyllable, and then we have a line of the ordinary length. Nor in Act I, 2, 35-38, where we read I to the world am hke a drop of water That in the ocean seeks another drop. Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself, is there any need to disturb the text, although Mr. Spedding has actually been commended for proposing to put 'in search' in the place of 'unseen;' Mr. Staunton would change the punctuation to ' Unseen 54 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. inquisitive!' while another ingenious critic cuts * forth' in half, and, leaving the preposition 'for' at the end of the line, tacks on the definite article to the beginning of the next. Strange hallucination! * Unseen' is a participial adjective, used absolutely, and refers not to the drop that seeks, but to the fellow drop that is sought; 'his fellow having been unseen by him,' or, to put it more colloquially, 'without having seen his fellow, in his inquisitivencss, he confounds himself.' A person, not intimately ac- quainted with Shakespeare's style, will hesitate to believe that a participle can stand thus abrupt and isolated, without any thing for it to refer to, save what the wit of the reader can supply from the context; I can only refer him at present to King Eichard II, Act III, 2, 168, where 'humour'd' stands in the same bare fashion; but I promise him, that, as I proceed with my examination of the several plays, I will point out, and comment on, not one instance only, but several most remarkable ones, which will satisfy him that the way, in which I propose to construe 'unseen' here, is neither un- precedented nor impossible. Having disposed of these two small outlying questions, I will proceed to grapple with a real difficulty in Adriana's speech in Act II, 1, 103-115, in the latter part of which it is certain that some explanation, some think that some emendation is absolutely required. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 55 I will leave it to others to estimate tlie worth of Pope's extraordinary version, which is chiefly remark- able for its bold violation of the text of the original copies ; it will be sufficient to ponder the more modest proposals of soberer emendators, who for the most part confine themselves to the single alteration of *where' Ho wear' in the 112th line ; though Theobald in the same line, to make the sense clear, and the metre complete, after ' and ' introduced ' so.' The whole passage is thus set down in the * Globe ' Shakespeare : 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 promised m^e a chain ; "Would that alone, alone he would detain. So he would keep fair quarter with his bed 1 I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty ; yet the gold bides still. That others touch, and often touching will t Wear* gold : and no man that hath a name. By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. Now here there are three distinct questions which present themselves for consideration. In the first place, is any addition to the line necessary for the metre's sake — in other words, has a monosyllable fallen out which originally stood there ? Secondly, ♦ will, Where Ff. 56 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. slioiilcl * wear ' of the emendators supersede ' whtpre *■ of the FoHos ? ThnxUy, what is it that Adriana under the veil of metaphor really says ? The first question I answer in the negative ; nothing has been omitted ; nothing needs be added ; the line may remain precisely as we find it, and yet be pronounced metrically complete; How can this be ? I answer that ' gold ' may be ranked among that numerous class of words, which, either from the length of time that it takes to pronounce them, or from a dissyllabic sound, which they seem to have, when distinctly pronounced, or from the emphasis which properly belongs to them in the position in which they stand, are permitted to have, • so far as the metre is concerned, a dissyllabic value ; this is known to be the case with such words as * fire,' ' hour,' * sour,' ' year,' ' near,' ' aches.' I think I shall be able to show that the same privilege is enjoyed by * cold,' and if by ' cold,' why not by * gold ' also ? Now it is not a little singular that there are no less than four lines in Shakespeare, having ' cold ' in them, which lack their full quantum of syllables, and on that account have been sought to be corrected by emendators, or have been stigmatized by them as incorrigible. Take for example the following lines from 'All's Well That Ends Well, Act I, 1, 115, Virtue's steely bones Look bleak i' the cold wind ; withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 57 Here the second line is too short to be an Alexandrine, too long to be a line of the ordinary measure ; but let ' cold ' be tantamount to a dissyllable, and we have a capital Alexandrine, which, so far as poetic expression is concerned, cannot be surpassed. It may be objected that ' cold ' on its second occurrence is used strictly as a monosyllable, but the objection will not hold ; for Shakespeare does not scruple to use the same word in two different ways even in the same line. Consider next the following line from I Henry IV, Act I Y, 3, 7, You speak it out of fear and cold heart. Here again we have the word ' cold,' and significantly enough, along with it, a seeming defect of metre. This instance is in some respects remarkable ; for it might easily be supposed — nay, it has actually been conjectured — that the indefinite article has been accidentally omitted before ' cold ' ; but against this theory it may be urged that in another part of the play, where the same phrase occurs — this time, however, in prose, not in verse — where, therefore, the presence or absence of the article can be of no metrical moment, and where perhaps we should rather have expected it than otherwise, the article does not appear ; the words are in all respects just as they are here. I refer to that part of Hotspur's soliloquy, where he says, ' in very sincerity of fear 58 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEAEE. and cold heart.' I think it probable, therefore, that we should in this, as in the former instance, lengthen the metre not by introducing the article, but by treating 'cold' as virtually a dissyllable. At the same time I am aware that it would be possible to find the needful extra syllable in 'fear' rather than in 'cold;' but I do not rest my case on a single line, but on a succession of lines, so that, should one fail me, I have others to prop me up. My third instance I fetch from 3 Henry VI, Act IV, 3, 14, While he himself keeps in the cold field. An additional syllable is plainly wanted here. At one time I was tempted to think that 'cold' must be a noun substantive, and that 'a-^eld' must have been the word that originally followed it; but I now look to the adjective 'cold' for a solution of the difficulty. Lastly, there is the witch's line in ' Macbeth,' Act rV, 1, 6, which almost every critic is shocked at, but not one is venturesome enough to meddle with, Toad that under cold stone. Here, then, are four lines out of four different plays, where, the same word recurring, the same peculiarity also recurs. Wliat shall we say ? Can the apparent metrical deficiency be imputed in every one of these instances to chance? — to inaccuracy on the part of the transcriber? Would it not with much more probability be ascribed to a license known to exist in THE COMEDY OF EEROES. 59 Shakespeare's versification, whereby a monosyllable is sometimes treated as a dissyllable, a dissyllable as a trisyllable, and even a trisyllable as a quadri- syllable? There is no question that such a licence exists ; the only question is whether * cold ' is a word which has it ; if so, 'gold,' which, barring a letter, is a facsimile of it, may have it also. It is better in my opinion to explain the difficulty so than to import an adventitious word into the text. With respect to the second question, which I proposed for consideration, whether * where' or 'wear' be the true reading, it will not be necessary for me to enter upon any lengthy inquiry, nor even to come to any definite decision, as the explanation which I shall give will admit equally of either, though there will be some little difference in the meaning, according as we prefer this word or that. If with the Folios we read 'where,' 'touching' will have to be taken not as a verbal noun, but as a participle used absolutely, in which case the sense will be, * though people often touch, gold will bide, where it is gold, and not adulterate metal,' and the stops will have to be shifted thus, That others touch, and, often touching, will, "Where gold. Having now cleared away, as I believe, all obstruc- tions in respect of the metre, and in respect of the reading, I will address myself to the more impor- tant, and not less arduous task of explaining the 60 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. drift of Adriana's parabolic utterances. Under the figure of a jewel best enamelled losing its beauty I think she refers to her own precious person of matchless workmanship,, which, partly through the touch of time, but principally through the lapse of her husband's regard, no longer retained the delicacy of outline and consummate beauty which it once possessed ; and this view of the passage agrees with what she presently says in no ambiguous language, Since that my beauty cannot please Ms eye, I'll weep whafs left away, and weeping die. Further, under the figure of gold biding still, she signifies that, though her fair enamel was no longer what it had been, the material on which it had been wrought had not deteriorated ; the underlying golden metal still remained ; her fine moral and mental faculties had lost none of their pristine excellence ; the wear of time, the rough dirty fingers of the world, had had no power over tliem ; inwardly, if not outwardly, she retained all her original charms — the essence of true beauty : and here let the reader choose, whether * wear ' shall have the ascendancy, in which case Adriana would hint that that precious part of her, which had not been impaired, might not for ever be proof against the rough collisions of the world ; or whether ' where ' should be allowed to remain fixed, in which case she would protest, that the fine gold of her inner self, come what might, THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 61 would bide still, undimmed, undiminished. Turning then from reference to herself to reference to her husband, she says that, even if he did not respect his wife's golden qualities, he should have some regard to his own good name, and not suffer it to be tarnished by corruption and falsehood, which no man of respectability would voluntarily endure. Such I conceive to be the most probable interpre- tation of the passage ; but there is just a possibility that, after alluding to herself under the figure of a jewel best enamelled, which she perceives may lose its beauty, as in her husband's eye she seemed to have lost hers, under the figure of gold she may refer to her husband, who, although owing to the robustness of his constitution he showed as yet no signs of wear, — and now I cheerfully accept the word of the emendators — yet would, she intimates, in spite of the natural hardness of his metal, most certainly become depreciated, if he persisted in his adulterous connections, albeit regard for his fair fame should of itself be sufficient to keep him from the ways of corruption and falsehood. We may now read on without let or hindrance, till we come to Act lY, 1, 96, where, Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio of Syracuse stumbling against each other, everything as usual goes wrong. Ant. E. Thou drunken slare, I sent thee for a rope And told thee to what purpose and what end. Dro. S. You sent me for a rope's end as soon : You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. 62^ HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. TliG first line of Dromio's reply lacks the usual number of feet, but I do not say that it cannot stand for all that ; yet it is possible that it may have met with an accident ; and it is certain that Dromio's retort would not have been less spirited and effective, if he had said, You sent me for a rope ! rope's end as soon I But to import a word mto the line, and to alter the punctuation, without a single copy of the Folio on my side, and with, in all probability, a whole army of critics arrayed against me, is more than I can hope to carry; without, therefore, insisting on this change, I will advocate another, for which I expect to secure the suffrages of at any rate a very respectable minority. In Act IV, 3, 12-20, we find the following dia- logue between the Syracusan Antipholua and the Syracusan Dromio : Dro, S. Master, here's the gold you sent me for. What ! have you got the picture of old Adam new-apparelled ? Ant. S. What gold is this ? What Adam dost thou mean ? Bro. S. Not that Adam that kept the Paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison : he that goes in the calf-skiu that was killed for the Prodigal ; he that came behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty. What are we to make of Dromio's question, * Have you got the picture of old Adam, new-apparelled ?' Theobald, who was usually as sharp in detecting THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 63 error, as lie was shrewd in emending it, took the bull by the horns, and boldly stuffed in two new words, * Have you got rid of the picture of old Adam, &c. ?' There is little doubt that there is something wrong. The vicious word, the impostor of the text, is, I believe, * picture,' which has been suffered to creep in, and filch the place of some other word, similar to it in form, but vastly different from it in meaning. What can that word be ? Change the labial p into the labial v, and, as it were by magic, * picture ' is metamorphosed to 'victure.' Now, precisely as * augury ' — this we have on incontestable authority — was sometimes written ' augure,' so I have little doubt that 'victory' was set down in this passage in what to us would be the strange guise of ' victure.' Hence arose the mistake. ' Picture ' is a blunder for * victory," which may have been so pronounced as to be heard as, or (which is perhaps more likely) so misformed as to be mistaken by the reader for * picture.' Dromio, on his return, finding the officer no longer with Antipholus, asks him whether he had got the victory of this old Adam in new apparel. * Victory ' is the word that exactly suits the passage, and ' victory,' I am pretty sure, was the word that was set down in the author's original MS. Should we not now restore it to its rightful place ? There is one more passage which I have to notice before I have done with ' The Comedy of Errors.' In 64 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Act V, 1, 400-406, the Abbess is represented as '6f Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you, my sons ; and till this present hour My 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 nativity. It has been thought highly improbable, that Shake- speare, after commencing a Hne with * Go to a gossips' feast,' should have ended it with ' and go with me.' Hence various emendations have sprung up, amongst which Dr. Johnson's * and gaud with me ' is most conspicuous. But a little consideration, I think, will satisfy us that the words are not the poor weak repetition that some fancy. Here was a woman, who for many a long year had lived a conventual life, devoting herself to prayers and charitable deeds ; all of a sudden a discovery is made, which restores to her her husband, her sons, and, we may almost say, herself to herself. [The cause of her seclusion has ceased to exist ; the time of her joy has come ; not only does she encourage others to go to a feast, but she herself now will go with them — ' Go with me ' — she cries — ' with me, with me, the Abbess ! for I also will go,' After so long grief, such nativity ! I have struck out the semicolon which I have found after 'and go with me,' and substituted for it a THE COMEDY OP ERRORS. 65 comma; I have restored the Folios' word 'nativity,' which had been forced to give way to Dr. Johnson's conjecture 'festivity.' An indigenous flower had been eradicated, a sickly exotic planted in its stead. On what ground is 'nativity' objected to? Is it because it is found twice in the short compass of three lines ? But this is not sufficient reason for even suspecting it. Such repetitions are occasionally found in the works of all great writers, and of Shakespeare among the rest, of which we could fur- nish abundant proof; they are not uncommon in familiar conversation, and in dramatic composition, in both of which the language is more or less of an autoschediastic character. With as much reason might ' festivity ' be objected to, because in three consecutive lines we should have 'feast,' 'festivity,' *feast.' ' Nativity ' is the dominant idea of the passage. The repetition of the word emphasizes the double event. There were two nativities ; the one literal, and the other metaphorical. The Abbess, who had not Inaptly compared the reappearance of her long lost sons to a regeneration, or second birth of them, repeats more than once, what more than once had happened— more than once she pondered. 'Nativity' was her word — a cry of triumph after her groans of travail — a not unnatural iteration. But let all this go for naught, and still I hold that ' nativity ' is not only the right word, but the only word that the context admits of. S 2 66 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. The Abbess distinctly indicates (400-402) two operations, which in the course of nature succeed each other — first, the parturition, Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail Of you my sons ; secondly, the hinging to the hirth, and till this present hour My heavy burthen ne'er delivered. When, then, in the lines that follow, she invites the several parties to the feast that was usually cele- brated on such occasions, she distinctly intimates, as the reason of their rejoicing, the auspicious termination of those two operations ; only what in that place she had called 'thirty-three years of travail,' in this place she calls 'long grief;' what there was 'delivery,' here is 'nativity.' The two pairs exactly correspond to each other. To put some other word in the place of * nativity ' is to destroy tliat correspondence : ' such ' briefly summarizes the many peculiar circumstances of the delivery, or birth, its long postponement, its extraordinary nature, its providential unexpected jubilant character. This is Shakespeare's meat, and it is infinitely to be preferred to tlie Schoolmen's porridge. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM^ 67 A MIDSUMMEK NIGHT'S DEE AM. In 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' Act II, 1, 54, we are nightmared by a hideous bug of a word, which, although it appears in all the original copies, and has found its way into all the editions, and has not been, so far as I am aware, challenged or suspected by any of the commentators, I am persuaded never formed part of Shakespeare's Dream, nor passed through his brain, nor was authorized by his pen ; born of carelessness and ignorance, fostered by diffidence and credulity, it is high time that this monster should be examined, exposed, exorcised from the text, and be replaced by the legitimate offspring of the poet's fancy, whose pretensions I shall now put forward for the first time, and whose rightful title I shall hope to make good, not, I admit, by any direct and positive proofs, but by negative testimony and circumstantial evidence, which in my opinion well deserves to be pondered. The reader will readily call to mind those well-known drolleries spoken by Puck, The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And * tailor ' cries, and falls into a cough ; ■ And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, An4 waxen in their mirth and neeze aud swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. 68 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Now what explanation has the annotator, what explanation has the antiquary to offer of this ' tailor '- cry? Dr. Johnson, the very mention of whose name raises our expectation, a man of indefatigable industry, and extraordinary intellectual ability, who, when he had -anything to the purpose to say, both knew how to say it, and said it, has nothing more to^, communicate to us on this matter than is contained, in the following note: 'The custom of crying 'tailor' at a sudden fall backwards I think I remember to have heard. He that slips beside his chair falls as a tailor squats upon his board/ Upon this Mr. Aldis Wright, who would be sure to give us some additional information, if it were possible to give it, drily remarks, 'If this is not the true explanation, it is at least the only one which has been proposed.' And this is all — positively all — not a jot besides! But this is in reality nothing; and, when a man like Dr. Johnson can say no more than that ^he thinhs he remembers to have heard,' we may be pretty sure that he had no very great confidence himself in the only explanation which he had it in his power to offer. Is it conceivable — is it likely that, if this cry of * tailor' had been customary under certain circum- stances, and had been sufficiently well-known to have been apprehended at once by an Elizabethan audience, when only thus incidentally alluded to, it would have so utterly died away, as not to have left an echo behind it? that no one should have A MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM. 69 heard it? no one should know it? Why I venture to say that this is just one of those httle bits of fun, which, if it had once been in vogue, woukl not have been easily forgotten; it would have been talked about, and laughed over, and occasionally practised; it would have passed from sire to son, and been familiar as a household word; instead of which there is no such practice — no trace — no tradition of such practice; it is as if it had never been. Marvellous obliteration indeed ! I am little disposed, as a rule, to blench from the undoubted reading of the copies, but I cannot hold fast to the Folio version here. The high probability is that 'tailor' is a spurious word, which through inadvertence has got possession of the place of some other word, not altogether unlike it, but more forcible, and more appropriate. The original genuine word I believe to have been 'traitor.' Such an astounding metamorphosis will not be so much as listened to by many — I cannot expect it to be credited by any without something more than the bai'e affirmation of the writer. I invite the reader's close attention, therefore, to the following dry but most significant particulars. In 'Eichard II,' Act I, 1, 102, we have an undoubted instance of 'traitor' being spelt in the first Quarto 'taitour.' It is true that in the latter part of the word we have a t, and not an I, but the second letter of the word, viz., ?•, • has been accidentally omitted. In other words, we have a 70 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. very near approach to 'tailor'; we have a 'traitor' almost dressed up in the disguise of a 'tailor'; and yet no one would be silly enough in that passage to say that 'taitour' was meant for 'tailor,' and not rather for 'traitor.' And in this passage in 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' had we 'taitour' rather than 'tailor, no one,! conceive, would have dreamed of adopting 'tailor' rather than 'traitor.' But, as a matter of fact, we have ' tailor ' ; we have an I in the latter part of the word, and not a t. Now a t may be so mis-crossed as to be almost a facsimile of I. Between a mis-crossed t and an / there is scarcely any difference; and yet this is all that my conjecture needs to obtain for itself credibility. I may add that r is a letter not unfrequently omitted, when it holds the second place in a word; if the reader will take the great trouble to search, he will certainly find that 'beast' is set down in one place, where there can be no question that 'breast* is intended; that 'fiends' has displaced 'friends'; and that 'Fance' stands for 'France.' As instances of I being used, where / should have been, we have 'Calues,' where 'Cato's' ('Catue's') is acknowledged to be the true reading; 'succedaul' for 'succedant,' (1 Henry VI); and contrariwise 'untimety' in * Pericles ' is a mistake for ' untimely. The letters I and t being frequently confounded, I am supposing no greater .error on the part of the copyists, than has actually been made in numbers of places else- A MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM* 71 where. Thus much, then, for the anatomy of the words and the possibihty of their havmg changed places : as regards suitabiUty to the passage, in my opinion, there can be no doubt which should have precedence. Is it likely that this superlatively wise aunt, who had just met with a stunning catastrophe, and who instantly fell a-coughing to hide her confusion, would have compared herself ridiculously to a squatting tailor ? Would it not be much more consistent with her disposition, her age, her dignity, and, I may add, with the serious nature of her story, to raise against her invisible foe that fierce cry of * traitor,' which was wont to be raised against suspected political malcontents ? ' Traitor ' rests on a distinct historical basis ; ' tailor ' has for its found- ation the great lexicographer's ' I-think-I-remember- to-have-heard ' ; ' traitor ' is intelligible ; ' tailor ' inexplicable and unaccountable ; ' traitor ' is full of strength and ' spirit ' ; ' tailor ' is feeble and languid. In striking the balance between the two, it should not go for nothing, that the first edition of this play, which contains on the whole the best reading, and was possibly, we are told, taken from the author's MS., was carelessly printed. Shall, then, this low squatting word, this word of needle and thread, this long-time impostor, this ridiculous antic which starts up and struts its ugliness before us, be allowed any longer to express the real indignation of a highly dignified deeply 72 HAKD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. injured lady, whom I must think that Shakespeare with inimitable fun made attribute to her fantastic foe a word very different — one, wliich, at that period, on the occasion of every political peril, was in every one's mouth — of deep political significance and tremendous meaning; as frequently abused as it was frequently used ; a terror to the innocent no less, than to the guilty — the word * traitor,' in using which the * wisest aunt ' associated herself with kings and queens and empresses of tlie earth. The few small knots that remain may easily be untied, or cut asunder. To begin with a trifling matter of punctuation : in Act III, 2, 13-15, it may be an open question, whether we should point, as the * Globe ' editors do, reproducing, I presume, the punctuation of the Folios, The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake, or whether we should set the comma after * sport* rather than after 'presented,' to which mode I myself rather incline; but in Act IV, 1, 150, where the same learned editors put a full stop at the end of the line, I own I have a decided preference for a hyphen, or at any rate for the first Quarto's comma ; for no sooner had Lysander uttered the words, Without the peril of the Athenian law. A MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM. 73 than, having incriminated himself, he is roughly and sharply interrupted by Egeus, who exclaims, Enough, enough, my lord ; you have enough : I beg the law, the law, upon his head. A little below, the 163rd line seems to be short of a syllable, not to the detriment of the sense — for Demetrius might well have said that ' his love for Hermia melted ' — but to the detriment of the metre. What should we do here ? Not surely introduce some fresh word at the beginning of the line before * melted,' as some have proposed to do, but borrow from the preceding line a syllable which it has in excess of its requirements. The linear boundary is broken up, line melts into line, the words unite their streams, in order that we may have more vividly impressed upon us the dissolution and evanescence of Demetrius' love. The reader, who is accustomed to mark with his eye the division of the lines, may miss a syllable before * melted,' but, as the actor, entering into the spirit of the poet's conception, disregarded the artificial boundary, and repeated without a moment's pause the words, * love for Hermia melted,' the metre was as complete to the ear as the most exacting rhythmist could desire. A similar poetic artifice, I think, may sometimes be found elsewhere ; in each case the metre is subor- dinated to the sense and spirit of the passage. I do not, however, recommend that any alteration 74 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. should be made in the writing of the lines, which may remain just as they are. A word has, in all probability, been lost in Act V, 1, 56—60, * A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisbe ; very tragical mirth.' Merry and tragical ! tedious and brief ! That is, hot ice and wondrous strange sno-w. How shall we find the concord of this discord ? Sense demands, if scansion does not, that there should be some epithet of *snow,' as startlingly opposite to the nature of snow, as * hot,' the epithet of 'ice,' is to the nature of ice. The word, which has no doubt been lost in transcription, was probably a very small one, perhaps with letters, or a sound, corresponding to the termination of the word preceding it. The final letters of * strange ^ are ge ; what word more fully and fairly satisfies the conditions required than the little word 'jet,' used by Shakespeare in 2 Henry YI, Act II, 1, in three consecutive lines, Glou. "What colour is my gown of ? Simp. Black, forsooth ; coal black as jet. King. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of. Suff. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. In ' Romeo and Juliet ' we read of ' palfreys black as jet.' Perhaps, however, it would be too much to expect editors boldly to print That is, hot ice, and, wondrous strange ! jet snow, A MIDSUMMER NIGHT's DREAM. 75 seeing that 'swart,' 'black,' 'hot,' 'red,' — the poet Claudian makes the snow hlood-ied — might equally fill the gap in the text. A little further down in the same Act and scene exception has been taken to the 92nd line, And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect Takes it in might, not meiit, on the ground that the antithesis is not sufficiently well sustained. This is not the only passage in Shakespeare where the antitheses have been adversely criticized. Perhaps the critics would do well to consider, whether they themselves may not some- times be in error in expecting the contrasts to be as sharply defined in a dramatic effusion, as they might not unreasonably expect in a mathematical or philosophical treatise. Anyhow, what Shakespeare says, is one thing ; what the critics think he ought to have said, is another. The main drift of the passage is unmistakeable. When persons of feeble power, from a sense of duty, do their best to please, men of noble and generous nature regard not so much the worth of the performance, as the strength, or perhaps rather the mighty effort, of the performers ; they accept all in good part, not because it is in the least degree meritorious, but because it is the mosi that the actors are capable of. The pith of what is said is summed up in the text, ' she hath done what 76 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. she could.' A line from * Julius Caesar,' Act IV, 3, 261, deserves to be quoted, I should not urge thy duty past thy might. Compare also what is written a few lines above, 78-80, And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain. To do you service. THE MERCHANT OP VENICE. 77 THE ]\IERCHANT OF VENICE. In the 'Merchant of Venice' there is not the least occasion to make any fuss about the Httle phrase * worth this' in Act I, 1, 35, as if the meaning were obscure, or a hne had been lost! If Salarino chose to indicate the untold wealth, which lay in the noble vessel's bottom, by the modest method of a demonstrative pronoun and a significant gesture, rather than by an enumeration of so many ducats, who but an' Income Tax Commissioner has any right to complain? 'It is not worth that' is a phrase as common as it is intelligible. Our ap- praisement of the rich freight of silks and spices is enhanced rather than otherwise by the indefiniteness with which it is described. And yet, as compared with ' nothing,' * this ' has almost an appreciable value. Plays were written for the stage, not for the study. The actor could give a good account of ' this,' if the annotator cannot. The deictic use of the pronoun is eminently dramatic. Nor in Act II, 7, 69, is there any need, either for the prosody, or for the syntax, to foist into the text Dr. Johnson's conjecture ' tombs ' in lieu of Gilded timber do worms inf&ld. 78 HARD KNOTS IN BHAKESPEARE. If it be objected that the second syllable of * timber,' occurring in the central pause of the verse, violates the caesura, and is a metrical superfluity, how, then, are we to deal with those numerous lines in Shakespeare, where the termination of 'father,' * brother,' ' daughter, ' spinster,' 'speaker,' 'sworder,' 'thunder' — all quotations — is equally censurable or equally justifiable ? Wliat is admitted in a deca- syllabic line, must be admitted in a heptasyllabic. The termination of ' timber ' may be so slurred — * timbre ' — as to be almost annihilated in pronunci- ation ; or ' timber ' may form part of a dactyl in the second |place, or an Anapaest in the third; the melody of the verse is not marred by such occasional variations. As for the concord, the plural idea contained in 'timber' justifies the use of a plural verb following it. Even in itself the word strikes me as preferable to the great Lexicographer's. It is simple, quaint, original, expressive ; it has a smack of the antique, and a sepulchral significance. I am not sure that a little irony was not intended by the rich cofiin being described as mere 'gilded timber.' All the copies both of the Quarto and of the Folio have it. Their combined authority should have been sufiicient to save it from being ostracized from the text. With more reason it has been asked, how are we to understand the words that are printed in italics THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 79 in the passage that I shall next quote from Act III, 2, 97-101 ? Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word. The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. The beauteous scarf raises a presumption that the figure veiled by it is a thing of beauty ; the context requires that it should be no beauty at all, or, if a beauty, one of such a questionable kind, that, not- withstanding her beauty, she would be not an object of desire. It has been thought that ' Indian,* parted off by a semicolon from ^' beauty,' would satisfy the conditions required, but that ' Indian heauty' cannot. Is this so? The stress is on the epithets ; it was not the sea in itself that was objected to, but the kind of sea ; nor yet the beauty, but the kind of beauty; the sea was dangerous; the beauty * Indian,' and 'Indian' was synonymous with * coloured,' and colour was detested — many yet living know how cordially — by a white-skinned race. But in the reign of Queen Elizabeth the prejudice against colour far exceeded any thing that we can dream of in these more civilized and catholic times ; ^Indian beauty' would be received with disappoint- ment, with aversion, with disgust. In this very play Portia says of the Prince of Morocco that, even if he had the condition of a saint, in respect of his 80- HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. complexion, she should regard him as a devil. Colour alone, be it observed, would be sufficient to damn him. Would facial beauty redeem, when moral beauty could not? Not the grandest contour of countenance, not the most finely-moulded features, not the most pleasing expression would compensate in the eyes of Shakespeare's contempo- raries for that fatal stain in the skin, which nothing could obliterate. The most celestial seraph, if of the wrong colour, if dusky, would be pronounced a spirit of darkness. ' Sooty bosom ' — ^ tawny front ' — * swarthy complexion ' — * woman coloured ill ' — such are some of the expressions which attest the feeling in Shakespeare's day. The beauteous scarf indeed would well beseem an Indian beauty ; the scarf would strike the eye at once, and raise the expectation ; but, the moment it was withdrawn, what a contrast ! the ' beauty* would be lost in the dolour of her sJcin, This explanation seems to me sufficient, but to those who are not yet satisfied I will offer, as an alternative, another explanation, which is formed on considerations derived from Indian idiosyncracy. I shall suppose that the physiological rather than the physiognomical features are alluded to ; the Indian's soul was as dark as his body ; his character as evil-hued as his complexion — such at least was the vulgar prejudice. It is not a little curious that, whenever Shakespeare makes mention of Indiaut he THE MERCHANT OP VENICE. 81 almost invariably does so in terms of disparagement I * Savages and men of Ind ' are coupled together in the ' Tempest ' ; in ' Love's Labour's Lost ' we read of *rude and savage men of Ind ;' in ' Othello,' ' base ' is the epithet attributed to him ; in * King Henry VIII ' th-e allusion is disgustingly contemptuous. Now, if such were the estimation in which the Indian men were held, is it likely that the Indian women would be more highly accounted ? Where the men are bad, the women are generally worse. And the noted beauty — she who was admired, courted, beautifully scarved and apparelled — she would be sure to have her full share of feminine weakness, and feminine wickedness- — aye, and would be credited with having it. Deceitful as the serpent, stedlthy as the tiger, their natures hot and fiery, their sunshine uncertain and transient, their tempers liable to sudden and violent outbursts, their rage like the hurricane, their passions like the tempest- — these eastern Jezebels might not unnaturally be regarded as not less dan-- gerous than the dangerous sea with its guiled shore, which had just been previously mentioned* It was some such a one as this, albeit a ' brow of Egypt,' who wrang from Antony the cry, Betray'd I am. this false soul of Egypt ! this grave charm, — Whose eyes becked forth my wars, and caU'd them home j Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end — Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose. Beguiled me to the very heart of loss. p 3 82 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. If, then, ' Indian ' may hold its place by reason of the infamy which was usually associated with the name by Shakespeare's conlnnporaries, much more may ' Indian hcnut'i ' be tolerated, because such a one might be regarded, and justly regarded, as a dan- gerous bod}, an arcii and subtle seductress, a very month of hell, and dark pit of perdition. If, however, * beauty ' may not pass, taken in connexion with * Indian,' not all the acting and authority of Mr. Irving will induce us to retain it, divorced by Theo- bald's semicolon from that adjective. Notwithstanding the strictures of certain critics, I cannot see anything that is amiss in the following lines from Act III, 2, 160—167, But the full sum of me Is sum of *.^omething, which, to term in gross, Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd ; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn ; happier than this. She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. Portia's meaning is clear enough. Whether we read * something ' with the Quarto, or ' nothing ' with the Folio, will depend on whether we reckon an ' unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, impractis'd,' to be a small entity, or an utter nonentity. Either is tolerable, * SoQ. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 83 but there is more sense in the former, to which, therefore, I give the preference. The occm'rence of a short hne in the passage affords no reasonable ground for suspecting its integrity. While, as for the sentences, in which the ascending scale of hap- piness is described, if they are not modelled in that precise form, which has since become common, they are none the less likely on that account to have been Shakespeare's, as his patterns, his style, his workmanship almost invariably bear the impress of originality. Different opinions have been entertained concern- ing the punctuation in Act III, 3, 26 — 29. I conceive that Antonio was intended to say that the duke could not refuse to let the law take its course, because of the commercial dealings which strangers had with the Venetians ; if law were denied, the denial would greatly reflect on the justice of the state. Accor- dingly, the colon, which I find at the end of the first line, I transfer to the middle of the third ; The duke cannot deny the course of law For the commodity that strangers have With us in Venice : if it be denied, WiJl much impeach the justice of his state. It was the omission of the pronour.-subject in the last line, which caused editors to punctuate other- wise : they could only fii:d a subject for the verb ' impeach ' in the noun ' commodity ; ' yet they might have recollected such texts as 84 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. By my troth, 's not so good ; 'Much Ado About Nothing,' Act III, 4, 9, 19 ; 'Tis his own blame j hath put himself from rest ; * King Lear,' Act II, 4, 293 ; Brut : Has said enough. iSic : Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer As traitors do. ' Coriolanus,' Act III, 1, 161— G2 ; and 'Merchant of Venice/ Act I, 1, 98; 'King Henry VIII,' Act III, 1, 119 ; 'Pericles,' Act II, 1, 60. Capell, I find, long ago proposed the same arrangement; only he, at a loss for a nominative case for the verb 'impeach,' fabricated one, reading * 'Twill impeach.' This interpolation vitiated an otherwise faultless proposal. Am I too easily satisfied, or are the critics too fastidious, I in accepting, they in rejecting the little phrase ' mean it ' in the following passage ? — Act III, 6, 78-83— It is very meet The lord Bassanio live an upright life ; For, having such a blessing in his lady. He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; And if on earth he do not mean it, then In reason he should never come to heaven. Why should not ' mean it ' refer to the words "con- tained in the second of the above lines, and be a concise mode of saying, ' mean to live an upright life.' ? The expression is one which is in common parlance, and I need scarcely say that the theatre echoes the language of the people. THE MERCHANT OF' VENICE. 85 All the Folios and all the Quartos have 'masters* in Act IV, 1, 50, For affection, Masters of passion, swajs it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Yet in many editions 'mistress' is the established reading. Perhaps 'masters' was a typographical error for ' master,' the masculine form serving equally for both genders — Portia speaks of herself as ' master of her servants ' — perhaps ' masters ' may be not a noun at all, but a verb, followed by the preposition 'of,' just as 'like,' 'bear,' 'determine,' 'desire,' and many- other verbs are in Shakespeare. We may allow for the use of an archaism, if it is authorized by all the copies, if it is susceptible of explanation, if it can be fortified with analogous examples. Our smooth and uniform emendations poorly replace the rough, vigorous, oft-varying phraseology of the great master whose works we presume to criticize. The last passage that I shall notice is in Act IV, 1, 379, where I demur both to the punctuation and to the explanation given by the Cambridge editors, and I acquiesce in Mr. Ivnight's more correct arrangement. So please my lord tfee Dake and all the court To quit the fine for one half of his goods ; I am content, so he will let me have The other half in use, to render it. Upon his death, unto the gentleman That lately stole his daughter. 86 HARD ' KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Antonio intercedes with the Duke to remit the pubHc fine altogether, expressing himself as satisfied, if his adversary would let him have the portion, which the law awarded Mm, in use. To have said that he was content that the Diike should remit the fine would have been to impertinently interfere with the Duke's prerogative. But what does he mean by his having the other half in use ? Does Antonio suggest that Shylock should lend him gratis that half of his fortune, which he (Antonio) might legally have appropriated, but his legal right to which he had waived on the under- standing that it should fall to Lorenzo and Jessica at Shylock's death ? But this would be a queer sort of ' favour ' — the word is Antonio's own — and would be neither very disinterested, nor very generous. Was it Antonio's wish, then, to be a sort of trustee of the money for Lorenzo and Jessica— for this view has been taken by some — not, I suppose, letting it lie idle, but making it productive, either by lending it out at] interest, or, if it be thought that Antonio would not do that, by trading with it — anyhow reserving it, whether the principal only, or both principal and interest, for Shylock's son-in-law and daughter at Shylock's death ? But neither can I see in what sense this would be a favour done to the Jew. What, then, was the favour which the Jew and his race would both understand and thoroughly appre- THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 87 'ciate ? Why, plainly, that the half, which Antonio might have alienated from him, should be his still, not in respect of the principal, but in respect of the interest, which Antonio, using the principal, under- took to pay him, promising to hand over the whole to the young people at Shylock's death. But it has been objected that such an arrangement would be opposed to Antonio's principles and practice. True ; but Antonio himself tells us, that he would ' break a custom,' and pay Shylock interest, in order to supply the 'ripe wants of a friend;' and he would not scruple to ' break the custom ' yet again, in order to ensure a provision for Lorenzo and Jessica — a pro- vision quite independent of what Shylock possessed, which, though settled on tlie young couple by deed, could not be said to be certain, as Shylock, though he would not squander it, might by misadventure Ljse it. Antonio's wish was to let Shylock have a life- interest in what, as having been given back to him, could only be regarded as his ; yet at the same time to secure the principal for the Jew's kith and kin, lest, taking vengeance on them, he should disinherit them. What advantage, then, it has been asked, what present advantage had Lorenzo and Jessica ; I might answer that they had expected none — they wanted none. Jessica was Lorenzo's golden treasure, more precious to him than argosies and ducats. But, though he had no pt^esent advantage, he had a fortune in prospect ; he was sure of what was in 88 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Antonio's safe-keeping ; he was entitled also by deed to what Shylock might die possessed of. Hence, when Nerissa says, There do I give to you and Jessica, Ffom the rich Jew, a special deed of gift. After his death, of all he dies possessed of, Lorenzo replies, Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. AS YOU LIKE IT. 89 AS YOU LIKE IT. There is no question about the meaning — there should be none about the punctuation and con- struction of the opening lines of 'As You Like It' (Act I, 1, 1-5). "We have merely to put a semicolon after * fashion,' and to suppose that the pronoun, the subject of the verb * bequeathed,' has been omitted not accidentally by the transcriber, but designedly by the author, and the play will commence in that easy familiar colloquial style, which is characteristic of Shakespeare, and as might be expected in an interchange of words between an old servant and his young master : As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion ; bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou gayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well : and there begins my sadness. Some have fancied, because the initial letters of * bequeathed ' bear a near resemblance to the pronoun * he,' that the pronoun may have been omitted in the copying by mistake, but I have already hinted that there is reason, and I may now add that there is abundant Shakesperian precedent, for the ellipse^ 90 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. while there is neither authority here, nor yet absolute necessity for its expression. In Act II, 4, 1, Eosalind's exclamation, 'How merry are my spirits!' has been changed by editors into 'How weary 2^YQ my spirits!' Such a radical change, if not demanded by urgent necessity, cannot be too strongly reprobated. I confess that I cannot see sufficient justification for taking so great a liberty with the text. We may grant that Eosalind was as weary as any of the little band, but between feeling weary and making an avowal of weariness there is a vast difference. It is scarcely credible that Eosalind would be the first to show the white feather, and demoralize by her example the whole company ; her character as a woman, the character which she assumed as a man, forbid us to think so ; she made light of difficulty, and laughed at misfortune ; and this, quite as much because she was the high-spirited girl that she was, as because she felt that it devolved upon her to encourage the others. It is true that she said to Touchstone — I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman ; but this admission, itself redolent of fun, and provo- cative of laughter, was wrung from her sympathy by a plaint which he had uttered — and marvellously well was it timed to brace him up, and make him speak and act like a man — but immediately after, as AS YOU LIKE IT. 91 if repenting of her own confession, she justified her first utterance by adding, But I must comfort the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show itself courageous to petticoat. Why, then, have editors altered the reading of the Fohos ? I presume, because Touchstone in his answer happens to mention the word ' weary.' But Touchstone's confession of leg-weariness is no proof that Eosalind complained of spirit-weariness ; the most that Touchstone's words can prove is that Piosalind made some allusion to the state of her spirits : she struck a cheerful note ; he a mournful one ; this chimes in with her finale to Touchstone, ' Aye, be content, good Touchstone,' which I may here parody by saying, ' Be content, good critics. But the passage in the play, which of all others has excited the most lively discussion, and has occasioned the greatest diversity of opinion, and wdiich certainly requires comment, perhaps change, occurs in Act II, 7, 53-57, in the course of a famous speech of Jaques : He that a fool doth very wisely hit Doth very foolishly, although he smart. Seem senseless of the bob ; if not. The wise man's folly is anatomized Even by the squandering glances of the fool. Here the critics, chafing at what they are pleased to call the ' halting sense and limping metre,' change * seeme senselesse," which is the exact reading of the 92 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Folios, into * Not to seem senseless,' which is Theobald's conjecture ; but not even Theobald's great name can reconcile us to to such a startling innovation, unless it be dictated by imperious neces- sity. Does, then, the line really need Theobald's crutch ? may it not stand without any such artificial" prop, and tJiat^ without resorting to the questionable ruse of connecting * very foolishly' with the subor- dinate clause that follows ? It is not at all surprising that * very wisely ' should be applied to the fool, seeing that, with an arrow shot at a venture, he had well hit a weak joint in the wise man's harness ; but it does seem at first sight a little strange that * very Joolislily ' — which is plainly opposed to ' very wisely ' — should be attributed to the wise man. It certainly was not foolish of the wise man to counterfeit insen- sibility ; for it would certainly never have done for him to lay himself open to a fool, who would have covered him with mud, and crowed over him eternally, on the strength of having, at a chance gathering, by a chance utterance of the moment, touched some exceptional wealmess in his character ; nor can the. allusion be to any awkwardness, or sheepishness, as we sometimes term it, of look and manner on the part of the wise man, while he strove to hide the workings of his heart ; for this w^ould not have escaped the sharp eye of the fool, and would only have made him more than ever a butt for ridicule. No ; the force of the words lies not in the/ac/ of his AS YOU LIKE IT. 93 dissembling, but in the fashion — the manner of it. He is hit, yet he cries, 'Ha! ha! ha!' he smarts, yet he smiles ; he is lashed, yet he laughs ; any amomit of castigation he is ready to face out with any amount of cachinnation ; no one knows it but himself; but, if it were possible for one, after observing his face and manner, to look into his heart, and see there the true state of the case, how that his laughter was forced and his mirth simulated ; that he was a masquer and mummer for the nonce, in order not to be made a fool of to no purpose by a fool, would he not admit that, though there was wisdom in the dissembling, there was very foolishness in the manner of it ; yet this show of folly, this foolishness of laughter, was his only chance, ' situated as he was. Well, then, he hiade a virtue of necessity — put a fool's vizor on his face, and acted like a wise man. The end justified the means. A little further down, in Jaques' speech, there is another line, which has been turned and twisted in every imaginable way by the emendators, without having been straightened to the satisfaction of any of them. It is the last line of the following passage, "Why, -fflio cries out on pride That can therein tax any private party ? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, Till that the tvearie verie meanes do ebb ? In this case the critics do not quarrel with the ^hort line of the passage ; what they object to is the 94 HAKD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. ' words ' printed in italics, and yet not so much the words themselves, as the peculiar collocation of them — the interposition of the adjective 'very' between *the weary' on the one hand, and 'means' on the other. But, supposing that it were intended to lay special emphasis on 'means,' where could 'very' have stood more fitly than where it now stands? Had it been placed immediately after the definite article, and before the adjective 'weary,' it would most certainly have been taken for nothing more than an adverb intensifying the adjective 'weary.' As it is, there is no possibility of any such mis- apprehension; there is no ambiguity; its position effectually ministers to its purpose, which is to emphasize the noun 'means,' and the noun 'means' requires emphasization. For is it not strange that the great sea should have its limits, its billows should weary and break, its swellings should subside ; yet of p7'ide there should be no abatement, weariness, or cessation? Not from want of will does it fail, but only from want of ^means' — 'means' referring partly, perhaps, to the person's physical powers, but also, as the context shows, to his purse and property. Now the eccentric position, and undoubted force of 'very,' cause the necessary stress to be laid on * means.' The very means of pride must weary and ebb, ere its great swelling flood subside. Not much unlike is the position of 'very' in the phrase, ^this same very day, which actually occurs in ' King AS YOU LIKE IT, 95 Eicliard III.' The explanation which I have given seems reasonable and sufficient; yet the notion, that the line is faulty, has got such a grip on the critics, that probably a new generation must arise, before the mists of prejudice will be dissipated, and the place will have a chance of being looked at in the clear atmosphere of an impartial judgment. I cannot go with Mr. Aldis Wright, when, in annotating on Rosalind's words, 'one inch of delay is a South-sea of discovery,' in Act III, 2, 207, he says, ' If you delay the least to satisfy my curiosity, I shall ask you in the interval so many questions that to answer them will be like embarking on a voyage of discovery over a wide and unknown ocean.* It seems to me that, just as we, when on the tiptoe of expectation, are wont to say, 'Every minute seems an age,' so she, taking, however, jocularly as her unit of measurement inches rather than minutes, protests that she is so eager to know, who the forest poet is, that a single inch of further delay would be to her as a vast unmeasurable distance, involving infinite uncon- scionable delay — in fact, (and here there is an allusion to one of the great wonders of the day,) it would be to her as it were a ' South sea of discovery.' Such, and no less, would be the delay, as measured by Rosalind's impatient eagerness. We need not start, as some have done, at a phrase used by Silvius in Act III, 5, 7, where he appeals to Phebe thus touchingly, will you sterner be Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops ? 96 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. He who ' dies and lives ' means ' he who spends his whole life long in such and such a way.' The ordeif of the words may seem somewhat preposterous ; yet that Chaucer should have so ordered them is a conclusive proof that it is both old and genuine ; and that Shakespeare should have observed the order is a further proof that in his day it was neither quite obsolete, nor thought by him unworthy of preservation. We may look upon the phrase as an archaism, and explain it as a hysteron-proteron, but we may not condemn it as a solecism, much less as a corruption. Such vagaries of the English language are to be noted, not branded. I need scarcely say that Shakespeare elsewhere uses the expression in its usual reversed form, ' lives and dies' Further down, in the 23rd line, where Phebe says, lean but upon a rush, The cicatrice and capable impressure The palm some moment keeps, •capable impressure' can only mean *the impression which can be received from so soft and weak a substance as a rush.' The word 'capable' is used frequently in Shakespeare — in 'The Tempest,' Act I, 2, 352-53, Abhorred slave. Which any print of goodness wilt not take. Being capable of all ill, where 'capable' asserts positively, what in the A§ YOU LIKE IT, 97 previous line had been asserted negatively, and signifies 'able to take a print' — whether of good, or of evil, being determined by the context; in 'Hamlet', Act III, 4, 126, His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capable, i.e., 'able to receive the doctrine preached,' and so 'impressionable'; in 'Winter's Tale,' Act IV, 4, 791, If thou beest capable of things serious, i.e., 'able to receive,' and so to comprehend them; and in 'King Henry IV' Northumberland was advised that his son's flesh was ' capable of wounds and scars'; and in 'All's Well that Ends Well,' Act I. 1, 106, heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour. On the other hand, it is used differently in 'Hamlet,' where an actor is said to be 'capable of nothing,* i.e., 'able to do nothing,' 'but inexplicable dumb shows and noise.' Differently still it must be used in the phrase 'capable impressure,' where, however, * capable' is added, in order to express the amount of power or force exerted by the rush ; the impression was just as much as was possible, where none, it might be thought, was possible. 'Capable,' there- fore, is no mere otiose epithet, but is both significant 98 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and potential. For ' impressure ' we may go ta 'Troilus and Cressida,' Act IV, 5, 131, by Jove multipotent, Thou shonld'st not bear from me a Greekish member Wherein my sword had not impressure made Of our rank feud. The last passage that I shall notice in this play is in Act V, 4, 4, where the meaning is clear, though the expression is a little cloudy, I sometimes do beheve and sometimes do not. As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. Here we have as striking an example of what is called ' pregnant locution ' as we can find anywhere. They know that they fear ; but, as touching their hope, they are not certain ; nay, they have consider- able doubt; and, inasmuch as in their doubt fear predominates, the poet, without any circumlocution, goes to the pith of it, and says tersely, albeit perhaps somewhat darkly, they fear they hoye^ THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 99 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. In the Induction of the ' Tammg of the Shrew ' a Httle word occurs in the 17th hne of the first scene in connection with the name of a hound, which is a puzzle ahke to the sportsman and the scholar, Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds : Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd ; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed brach. The last ' brach ' is intelligible enough, but what is the meaning of the first ? It can hardly be used in its ordinary Shakesperian sense of a bitch-hound, firstly, because Merriman is immediately after desig- nated as the ' poor cur,' which would seem of itself a sufficient designation of him, and, secondly, because it is highly improbable that Shakespeare would have introduced the same not very common word without cogent reason in two consecutive lines. Unless, therefore, it is surmised that ' brach ' is an old verb, no traces of which remain, indicating some remedial operation which was applied to embossed hounds, we are driven to the region of conjecture to find the word which was in all probability intended by the author. .100 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. If, as some would have it, embossment was a swelling of the legs or joints from overrunning, it might have been customary to bandage the poor beast that was so afflicted, and ' brace ' in this sense would approximate to the reading of the copies ; or, if a fomentation of salt and water were prescribed by the veterinary surgeons of the day, there is an old verb ' brack,' which would come nearer still. ' Drench ' would be a licentious and raml^ling conjecture, but not an impossible injunction. For my own part, I think that we have a clue to the meaning in the line which follows, where we read, And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed bracli. I imagine that Merriman had been coupled with the deep-mouthed brach, and now, that Merriman was disabled, it was intended that Clowder should take his place ; it was necessary, therefore, to unfasten Merriman 's coupling chain — to part him off, that Clowder might be coupled in his stead. I think that ' break ' may very well have been used in this sense ; -and, as regards the spelling, even if there were not a phonetic relationship between it and 'brach,' it would not be surprising, considering the spelling to be found from time to time in the Folios and the Quartos, if ' break ' or ' brake ' had been spelt ' brach ' just as elsewhere ' eke ' is printed ' ech,' and ' ache ' * ake.' Upon the whole, then, I am inclined to read, Brealc Merriman, the poor cur is embossed, And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed brach-. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 101 A little further on in the same Scene, there is some doubt as to what should be the reading in the 64th line, Persuade him that he has been hmatic, And, wlien lie says he is, say that he dreams. If these words are to stand, they can only mean, that Sly, amazed at the outward transformation of himself and. all around him, when told that he had been beside himself, replies that he must be so still. This, however, he does not do, nor perhaps was it contemplated that he should do. The easiest way of unravelling the difficulty is to suppose that ' that ' has been shifted from its proper position, and that the words originally stood thus. And when he says tJmt he is, say he dreams^ 'that he is*^ being, of course, equivalent to ^ivho he is.' A kind of resemblance, however, between 'Sly*^ and 'say' has led some to conjecture And when he says he is Sly, say that he dreams, and in support of this view, it has been urged that Sly does say ' I am Christophero Sly.' But a question like this will be thought too frivolous to- discuss, save by those, who are determined that nothing, if they can help it, shall be set down in an edition of Shakespeare, which was not in all proba- bility authorized by Shakespeare. Passing from the Induction to the body of the play, we stumble upon an extraordinary word in Act I, 2, 6-7, which 102 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. has for its first two syllables the dative case of a well* known Latin noun, and for its last the termination of an English past participle ! Grumio says to Petruchio, Knock, sir! whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebused your worship ? The most that can be said for this hybrid verb is, that it is vulgar Grmnian for 'abused'; but, as there is not a single other instance in the whole play of Grumio speaking in the Dogberry-and-Verges dialect, we have no right to shuffle out of the difficulty so. In all likelihood, the error is a typographical one. * Kebused ' is a horrible jumbling together of the two well-known words, ' robbed us,' the termination (ed) of the participle having been carelessly mis- placed after ' us ' instead of after ' rob.' ' Eob-us-ed ' became corrupted to 'rebused,' and then 'your worship,' which properly is the nominative of address, came to be regarded as an objective case governed by that monstrous imposture * rebused.' I have little doubt that Grumio said, Is there any man has robbed us, your worship ? Twenty lines lower down Grumio has again, I think, the misfortune to be misunderstood owing to inaccurate pointing : what I conceive he should say, is Nay, 'tis no matter, Sir, what he 'leges in Latin. If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service ! Look you, Sir, he bid me knock him and rap him soundly, Sir. ^HE TAMING OF THE SHREW. lOS ' I have placed a note of exclamation after ' service ' instead of the usual comma, because I believe that the conditional clause is used elliptically, just as it very frequently is in common conversation, and as we might expect it to be sometimes used in dramatic dialogue ; the same construction occurs in ' Merchant of Venice,' Act II, 2, 166, Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book I shall have good fortune ! and thus too some think we should point — though I am not of the number — in another passage in * Merchant of Venice,' Act III, 2, 321, All debts are cleared between you and I. If I might but see you at my death ! and thus too we certainly should point in * 2 Henry IV,' Act II, 4, 409, where Doll should say, I cannot speak ; if my heart be not ready to burst ! Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. The next passage that I shall notice is Act III, 2, 16, where a seeming incompleteness of metre, rather than an impossibility of finding a meaning, has excited a suspicion that there is some imperfection in the text. The metrical difficulty, however, has been exaggerated. In scanning the line Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns, the easiest way is to make ' and proclaim ' pass as an anapaest, just like ' and I challenge law ' in * Eichard II,' Act II, 3, 134 ; ' which torments me ' in 104 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. ^Cymbeline;' 'or perform my bidding' in 'Pericles;'' *he desires,' 'art thou certain,' and many other instances, which the critic is compelled to respect, because they cannot possibly be otherwise dealt with ; nor would it be wonderful, if we had a short line here, just as we have a little lower down in this same scene in the 283rd line ; She is my goixls, mj chattels ; she is my house, My buusehuld stuff, my field, my barn. But there is another possible mode of scanning the line, by pronouncing ' friends ' in the time of a dissyllable, in which case * invite ' will be accen- tuated on the penultimate, just as ' congealed,' * excuse ' (the verb), ' oppose,' 'infect,' 'confirmed,' 'expire,' sometimes are in Shakespeare. It is a curious coincidence, which I will give the critic to chew, that there is another line in this very play, having ' friend ' in it, where the verse seems to halt for lack of a syllable. By giving a dissyllabic vaJue to ' friends ' in Act I, 2, 190, No, say'sfc me so, friend ? What countryman ? we manage to get over a seeming difficulty there also. This mode of solving the problem cannot be deemed absolutely impossible in Shakespeare, where so many monosyllables are similarly treated ; but fo^. my own part I prefer to scan in the fashion which I first indicated. As regards the meaning, which is the next thing that we have to settle, we may either THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 105 accept the punctuation of the Fohos, interpose a comma betwixt ' make friends ' and ' invite,' and understand the words to mean that Petruchio led every one to beheve that he was a bona fide suitor, not only by his attention to the lady he was courting, but by making fiiends among the kinsfolk and acquaintance of her family, or we may disregard the Folios' comma, and take ' make friends invite ' as all belonging to one sentence, in which case the meaning will be that Petruchio caused the friends of the various ladies he wooed to issue invitations, as if for the wedding ; and this is what Petruchio seems to have done ; forxdoes he not say in Act II, 1, 318, Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ? Upon the whole, considering the licence which Shakespeare allows himself in his versification, and the many rare quaint and curious phrases which are to be found in his plays, I should not have thought it necessary so laboriously to defend this line, as it stands in the first Folio, were it not that it has been set down in the proscription-list of the critics. Once more, in Act IV, 2, 59-62, where Biondello exclaims, O master, master, I have watched so long That I am dog-weary ; but at last I spied An ancient angel i^ming down the hill, Will serve the tur^ the critics regard 'angel' with Sadducaean distrust; but is not Biondello true to his character for 106 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. merriment and fmi, when, to the amusement and laughter of the audience, he declares that a special providence — a sort of Deus ex machina — an angel from heaven, had come to do what? — to enable Tranio to make good his personation of Lucentio, and to enable Lucentio to carry through his love intrigue ! Or Biondello might simply have meant to intimate that, in the extremity of his weariness, the ancient coming down from the high hill was in his eyes as an angel coming down from heaven. These angelic comparisons frequently recur in Shakespeare. Anyhow, whatever were Biondello's thoughts, when first he spied the venerable father, it is certain that, at the time of his speaking, the human being who was wanted, rather than the superhuman who was not, was uppermost in his mind; for in right matter- of-fact business fashion, if with some lack of reverence, he says, 4ie will serve the turn. Better retain 'angel,' and explain so, than exchange it for either 'angel,' a lure, or 'engle,' a gull. # all's well that ends well. 107 ALL*S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. In 'All's Well that Ends Well' I cannot but think that the Cambridge editors have gone a little beyond the mark, when in a note on the line, Not my Virginity yet, in Act. I, 1, 179, they go so far as to say, ' it cannot be doubted that there is some omission here.' It cannot be doubted that there is a somewhat abrupt transition from one theme to another, which may displease scholars, accustomed rather to regular argumentation and logical conclusion than to desul- tory conversation, and who perhaps hardly make sufficient allowance for the quick and sudden evolu- tions of feminine eristics ; but, if Helen could explain her own meaning, she might insist that there was a very real connection between speech on her virginity and speculation on Bertram's court amours ; possibly she meant to intimate that she was content to remain a spinster, till Bertram ceased to be a bachelor ; though there was every probability of his becoming entangled in engagements, where there would be so much to engage him, still she would 108 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. wait and see. If this were her meaning, the thread of her discourse would hardly be broken at all. But suppose that it were otherwise ; can we wonder that she should not desire to prolong conversation on a subject so delicate, and touching herself so nearly,, with a fellow like Parolles, whose rollicking style and libertine utterances were neither very elegant, nor very edifying ? She shifted her m-ound, therefore. Grant this, and what was she to talk about ? What topic more natural for her, what more likely to divert and interest Farolles than that of Bertram's reception, the sensation that he would cause, the flirtations, intrigues, love-makings, heart-burnings, jealousies, quarrellings, in fact, all the sunshine and shade, the sweets and bitters of the court ? A short line here is sm*ely not out of place, where the subject is cut short — where there is a break, a pause — perhaps a silent wish, a secret sigh ; where at any rate there is a marked crisis in the conversation, and Helen has to extemporize another more appropriate, but not less engaging topic. To what particular portion of Parolles' speech she referred, when she said, 'Not my virginity yet;' whether the balance inclines in favour of ' I will not anything with my virginity yet,' or 'Not a withered pear is my virginity yet,' or 'I will not off with my virginity yet,' let those decide who have the eye to discern. I will pass on from such a nice question to two passages in the latter part of the same scene — in k all's well that ends well. 109 ^)()th cases Helen is the spokeswoman — where the editors of the ' Globe ' Shakespeare again hoist their danger signals, and make us enquire, what is the matter. We are told that our progress is seriously blocked in the 237th and 238th lines. The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes and kiss like native things. In both these lines literary engineers have consulted long and anxiously as to what had best be done, and various alterations have been proposed, where, perhaps, after all none may be required. I can see two ways of clearing the passage without so much as altering a letter. In the first place, ' space,' a singular noun, may be treated as an accusative of measurement, space, distance, rather than, as it is usually supposed to be, the direct object governed by the transitive verb * brings;' the noun which that verb governs has to be supplied ; whatever we take it to be, whether * objects,' or 'beings,' or what, nature brings them across, or through, the mightiest space, to join, just as if they were likes, nay, to kiss, just as if they had had but one original. Or, in the second place, ' space ' may be treated as virtually a plural, according to that well-known canon, which allows the plural of words ending in se, ss, ce, or even ge^ to be at times assimilated to the form of the singular. In this case, the meaning of the word 110 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. is accommodated to the sense that is required ; the abstract is put for the concrete ; the 'mightiest space' will signify not the interval which separates, or the various portions of it which are effaced as the two bodies move towards each other, but the objects them- selves which are so separated, whose junction and osculation nature effects. A fine Catholic doctrine, which no doubt Shakespeare as much commended as Helen at the time cherished. In the words that follow, Impossible be strange atiempts to those That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose What hath been cannot be, it has been assumed that the negative clause, ' what hath not been,' must have been in some form in the original, rather than the affirmative one, ' what hath been.' But] why should not Shakespeare have intended to intimate that some refuse to believe that a thing can be, which, in point of fact, has already been, although they may not have seen or heard it ? It is man who cries, ' Impossible ;' nature proclaims, ' It hath been — it can be !' The old saw — 'the thing which has been, it is that which shall be.' Man's miracles are Nature's laws. And here it may not be amiss to transcribe one or two examples from Shakespeare, where nouns are used as plurals without possessing the plural suffix : all's well that ends well. Ill Than other princess can, * Tempest' Act I, 2, 173. As blanks, lenevolence, and I wot not what, ' Kichard II,' Act II, 1, 250. A thousand of his people butchered ; Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, ' 1 Henry lY,' Act I, 1, 42—43. Where are the evidence that do accuse me ? ' Richard III,' Act I, 4, 188. But to resume: there is a passage in Act I, 2, 31-45, where the King thus finely describes the character of Bertram's father: In his youth Ho had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords ; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour ; So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or slmrpness ; if they were, An equal had awaked them ; and his honour. Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue oletfd his hand; who were below him He used as creatures of another place And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks. Making them proud of his humility. In their poor praise he humbled. Not a Hne of this portrait but has been drawn by the hand of a consummate^rtist ; yet parts of it have not escaped criticism, as wanting in distinctness, or as inappropriate, or as having been tampered with by 112 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. an inferior hand— the parts wnich I have underhnecl^ for instance— the 36th hne, where, however, I think I read the great Hmner's meaning aright, when I understand him to tell us, that Bertram's father was such a model of courtesy, that he could be proud without being contemptuous, sharp without being bitter — the 41st line, where, however, I recognize the strictest horological accuracy in the expression, ' his tongue obey'd his hand ' — and lastly the 45th line, where in the sentence *he humbled ' I catch the ipsissima verba of the humble poor — their own poor way of expressing their appreciation of the great good man's condescension. Yes, scholars and gram- marians, you might doubtless command correcter grammar by the addition of the reflexive pronoun, but, what you would gain so, you would more than lose in originality, in character, in point, in force, in brevity. Not for one moment would I barter this poor man's homely phrase for Mr. Staunton's turgid compound ' hehumhled ' ; nor can I tolerate Malone's gloss — *he being humbled' — much less agree with those who would brand the expression as corrupt. Critics must learn to bend their ears to this not altogether inharmonious cottage note ; possibly Shakespeare heard it ; possibly he invented it ; certainly he was pleased with it. A stigma too has been attached to the following line— Act I, 3, 141— Such were our faults, or then we thought them none j all's well that ends well. 113 yet a poor exchange it would be, were Warbiirton's 0, or Mr. Collier's 'for,' or Hanmer's ' though ' to supplant the good sound expressive idiomatic con- junction 'or,' which leaves it undecided, which of two possible ways of putting a case is the more correct. I see nothing to stigmatize here. In Act II, 1, 3, it has been suggested that we should read, If both gain, ivell, on the ground that it would be impossible for both to gain ' alV ; the absence of a comma after * all ' in the Folios has induced, I suppose, the editors cf the ' Globe ' Shakespeare to connect it with * gift ' in the following line. This seems to me rather a shirking of the difficulty, than a successful solution of it. The natural connection of 'all' is with 'gain,' and in that connection I think it should be explained. May not the meaning be that, if both the young lords, and those who were separately addressed as 'you, my lords — or if both those who were going to join the Senoys, and those who had chosen to espouse the cause of the Florentines, appropriated to their advantage the advice in all its fulness which the king had given them, that gift of advice would not be diminished by being diffused among so many; it would be all-sufficient for all of them, v/hether they fought with this side or with that, and the Value of it could only be measured by the receptivity a 3 114 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and appreciative capacity of those to whom it had been given. Its usefulness icould depend on them- selves. But this chimsy and common-place prose would poorly replace Shakespeare's neat, but more recondite, mode of expressing the same sentiment. I confess, however, that the phrase, 'I am kept a coil with,' is hard of digestion, nor can I either parallel or explain it. A friend has hinted that perhaps a hyphen should be interposed between the preposition and the noun, and ' a-coil ' should be classed with such adverbial compounds as ' aboard,' ' afield,' ' afire,' ' akimbo,' and the like. Of the general meaning there can be no dispute. I am now going to touch a passage in Act II, 1, 175 — 177, where it is all but impossible to ascertain either the precise reading or the precise meaning. Helen, having been challenged by the king to say, what she durst venture on her certainty and con- fidence, replies Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame Traduced by odious ballads ; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise, ne tvorse of ivorst extended With Tilest torture let my life be ended. The words which I have italicized are set down, I believe, exactly as they appear in the first Folio. In the other versions of the Folio ' no ' takes the place of ' ne. ' It has been thought that ' ne ' was meant to represent ' nay ' ; to all intents and pm^- poses, then, ^no' and ^nay' are the two words all's well that ends well. 115 which have to be taken into account, and, according as we prefer the one or the other, we shall have to regulate and vaiy the sense of the passage. I assume, in the first place, that ' nay ' is the genuine word, and I may eitJier punctuate thus, Sear'd otherwise ; nay, worse — of worst extended With vilest torture let my life be ended, that is, she will submit to be not only foully slandered, but, worse still, foully slain — to be reckoned as 'o/,' or belonging to, the veiy worst of her kind, and, as such, to end her life only -after a long extension of the vilest torture ; or, by a different arrangement of the stops, from the same words we may get a different, perhaps a preferable, meaning: Sear'd otherwise ; nay, worse of worst extended With vilest torture let my life be ended, where * worse of worst ' would be an adverbial phrase, qualifying the participle ' extended ' and indicating successive degrees in the process of torture, the 'worst' for the time being being always followed by something 'worse,' till life could endure it no more — a hyperbolic expression, which may be matched with Milton's And in the lowest deep a lower deep. But what talk I of ' Milton ' ? Have we not in * Timon ' Act IV, 3, 247, ' worse than the worst' ? 116 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and have we not also in ' Measure for Measure,' Act III, 1, 126, To be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thought Imagine howling ? In fact, what here is expressed by an adverbial phrase, in * Antony and Cleopatra ' is expressed by the sentence, ' Let worse follow worse ' ; or we may get a flash of light from a passage in the * Tempest ;' just as there we read in Act III, 3,77, Lingering perdition, tvorse than any death Can le at once, sJuill step by step attend You and your ways, so here we may read, Sear'd otherwise, nay, worse of worst, extended "With vilest torture let my life le ended, the adverbial phrase * worse of worst ' being taken as a sort of summing up by anticipation of what is more fully expressed m the remainder of the sentence, ' ivorst ' referring to the ' death ' which she imprecates upon herself, to use the word of the ' Tempest,' or the ' life ended,' as it is ex- pressed in this play ; the ' ivorse ' than that worst referring to the ' lingering perdition,' as it is expressed there, or the 'extension with vilest torture,' as here. But in the second place, I have to assume that the writer of the second Folio knew well what he all's well that ends well. 117 was about, when he changed ' ne ' into ' no ' : the passage will now have to be interpreted very differently : Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst ; extended With vilest torture let my life be ended, where * no worse of worst ' may either be con- sidered as more or less connected with the words that immediately precede ; *my maiden's name seared otherwise — no worse-wise of the worst than of me;' or it may be taken as indicating yet another step in her denmiciation of herself — a further and separate aggravation of the curse with which she would have herself stricken — ' let there be no person reckoned worse of all who come under the denomination of worst.' Such, then, being some of the interpretations, which the words, as they are given in the Folios, are capable of bearing without much wrenching, I would not discard the reading of the Folios, doubtful though it may be, for the notion of this or that commentator's private fancy, which must be much more doubtful. We must on no account listen to those who would have us believe that there is something wrong with the words — Act II, 5, 52 — I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand ; the occasional insertion in Shakespeare's time of the sign of the infinitive after auxiliary verbs I have already illustrated with copious examples ; if 118 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. I acid one example more, it is because we have in this very play, * To belie them I wiU not.' Shall I be accused of splitting a hair, if I advo- cate the shifting of a stop in Act IV, 1, 17-21, Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages ; therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy ; not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose. The authorized position of the semicolon is after * another,' not after 'fancy.' With regard to the 38th line of Act IV, 2, I see that men make *ropes in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves, the precise meaning has not been ascertained— perhaps is not ascertainable. Possibly, there may be an allusion to the rope-ladder, by which young gallants made it easy for their loves to forsake themselves— ^aci/is descensus Averni — the ladder, however, here referred to would be not a material, but a metaphorical one ; if this view is correct, it may be a question whether the last word of the line were not originally ' stair,' agreeably to that dictum in ' Komeo and Juliet,' And bring the cords made like a tackle stair ; possibly the phrase ' make ropes ' may be a nautical * rope's — so the first Folio. all's well that ends well. 119 Metaphor tantamount to what is nowadays more usually expressed by its kindred phrase, ' to spin a long yarn ;' and some such sense it might bear in * The Taming of the Shrew,' where we read He'll rail in his rope tricks, and in ' Romeo and Juliet,' where the nurse says, "What sancy merchant was this that was so full of his ropery ? but I feel here that I have no sure ground to stand upon ; I will hasten on, therefore, to the 31st line of the 4th scene, where our first operation must be to see that the stops are in their right places : I set them thus : Dia : Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to sufler. Eel : Yet, T pray you ; But with the word — ' The time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns. And be as sweet as sharp.' The whole of the last sentence stands in apposi- tion to the noun ^word,' pretty much as is the case in 'Measure for Measure,' Act I, 2, 126 — 127, The words of heaven — * On whom it will, it will ; On whom it will not, so' — yet still 'tis just. 'Suffer a while yet' — says Helen, and I need not say that ' yet ' is repeatedly used as" a particle of time, one instance, which seems to have given 120 HARD KNOTS IN SHAEESPEARE. a deal of trouble at any rate to past scholar&^ occurring in * King Henry V,' Act IV, 3, 49, Old men forget ; yet all shall be forgot, and so here — ' suffer awhile 2jet, but withal remem- bering the proverb, which tells of leaves as well as of tliorns, of summer's sweetness as well as of winter's sharpness.' 'Blade of youth,' the reading of the copies in Act V, 3, 6, is neither unnatural, nor unintelligible, nor, I believe I may add, unexampled ; but, standing where it does, it seems incongruous and out of place, like a cockle in the wheat. The word, which has found most favour with critics, is 'blaze,' which has been introduced into most, I believe, of the published editions ; yet, I am not at all sure that we should not give the precedence to ' blood,' which, as pronounced by some, sounds almost exactly like 'blade' (cf. 'bled '), and, if spelt ^blode ' or 'blude,' is within a letter of it; I read, therefore, And I beseech your majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done 'i the Mood of youth ; When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it, and bums on. The ' blood ' first, the ' blaze ' is afterwards expressed^ The following passages may give some colour to my conjecture : The strongest oaths are straw Tothe fire 'i the blood. ' Tempest,' Act IV,. 1,. 52-53. all's well that ends well. 121 The blood of youth hums not with such excess. * Love's Labour's Lost,' Act V, 2, 73. It hath the excuse of youth and heat oj blood. ' I Henry IV,' Act V, 2, 17. A little below, in the 66th line, should we read with the editors of the * Globe ' Shakespeare, Our own love waking cries to see what's done. While sMmefull late sleeps out the afternoon ; or should we stand to ' shameful hate,'' the phrase of the Folios ? The former is ingenious and plausible ; but it is an innovation, and one that is not varnished by the pretence of necessity. The latter is sufficient, is countenanced by the testimony of the best copies, and, in my opinion, seems most suitable to the context. It must have been some great * displeasure ' indeed — something very much akin to hate — which could have wrought so fearfully as to ^destroy' a 'friend,' and bring him to the ^ dust.' When love awoke and cried, that spuit of evil, what- ever it was — ' hate,' as we believe, and as the Folios indicate — slept. But love only awoke in the decline of the man's life, after the worthy one, who should have been loved, had passed away ; ' hate,' having had the morning and noon all to itself, and as it were exhausted with its half or three quarters of a day's hard hearty work, instead of being cast into durance, and made to do painful penance, had a lazy time of it in cushioned ease — 'sleeping out the afternoon' is said to the disparagement of 122 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE* Falstaff — while love, awake at last, was bitterly crying. Love and liate are the two opposite extremes, and may well stand in counterpoise to each other. Antitheses, it has been remarked, frequently occur in rhymed lines. ^Laissez faire ' must be our principle here. Some change, however, must be made in Act V, 3, 216, where the reading of the Folios is arrant nonsense; for what can be made of ^insuite comming ' in the passage that follows ? She knew her distance and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness "with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's com-se Are motives of more fancy ; and, in fine, Her insuite comming, with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate. Shall we not snatch at such a conjecture as * infinite cunning,' which is charmingly ingenious, and seems pretty appropriate, to say nothing of the adjective bearing a rough resemblance in form, the noun in sound, to the word of the copies ? Yet there is some difference between the two versions ; we have to suppose that not one word only, but two consecutive ones have been falsely rendered ; nor am I aware that * infinite,' a common word enough, is commonly miswritten ; can the critics, whose ears were hurt by the disagreeable assonance of * talked ' and ' walked ' in two consecutive lines of * Julius all's well that ends well. 123 Caesar,' endure here — here, where joking must be out of the question — the jarring sound of * w- fine,' and ' infirdte 2 There is another emendation possible, which is neither unsuitable to the passage, nor inimical to the reading of the copies, and which may be brought forward to compete with that which has found favour in the cloisters of Cambridge. The point, which Bertram was seeking to explain, was how he had been induced to part with his monumental ring. We know how it was. It was not done propria motu; it was no thought or wish on his part ; nor was there any particular act of cunning on hers ; it was her own request — her ' own suit ' — * Give me that ring ' are her very words, as given in Act IV, 2, 39 ; and this I think that Bertram, for all that he was so great a liar, in order to screen himself spoke here truly enough : Her own suit, coming with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate ; she got the ring. It may be a moot question, whether ' summing ' may not have been in the original vice ^ comming ' ; but every one can see how easily ' in ' and ' own ' may have been confounded, just as ' in ' and * on ' continually are. To this emendation it may be objected, that it is out of keeping with what is previously attributed to her ; it may be replied that her suit for the ring would not be inconsistent with her coy reluctance to gratify her lover. The 124 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. most subtle harlot, who had opposed restraint to eagerness, and impediment to fancy, would not scruple to ask for a precious ring which sparkled in her eyes, nor is it easy to see how Bertram could palliate his having given it, without pleading that he had been compelled to do so, because she had actually sued for it. It suited the purpose of the liar here to speak the truth. I may add, by way of postscript, that, on looking at the foot-notes of the * Cambridge ' Shakespeare, after I had made a fair and con- cluding copy of my notes on this play, I found to my surprise that * her own suit ' had been already conjectured. I cannot, therefore, claim to be the first inventor of this version, some one else having patented it before me. TWELFTH night; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 125 TWELFTH NIGHT; OE, WHAT YOU WILL. In ' Twelfth Night,' Act II, 5, 71, it has been considered questionable, whether Shakespeare wrote, what he is represented in the copies as having written, Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace, or some other word, of which * cars ' is only a false adumbration. In this very play. Act III, 2, 64, we have I think oxen and wainropes cannot hale them together, where the form of expression is somewhat similar, but both the cattle and the tackle are specifically mentioned. In ' The Two Gentlemen of Verona,' Act III, 1, 265, Launce says, A team of horses shall not pluck that from me, where again there is a certain resemblance ; the draught animals are expressed, but the traces to draw with are left to be supplied. May not, then, in ' Twelfth Night ' the simple word ' cars ' stand not only for the vehicle, but for the harnessed horses and requisite tackle ? It is true that horses draw, as do oxen with wainropes, but cars and 126 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. carts are drawn ; yet it is equally true that Hector's corpse was drawn or dragged by the chariot of Achilles. Verhiim sat. No traction-engine, of how many horse power soever, should move them to speak. Of conjectm-es, the most noteworthy of the serious ones are 'cords' and *scai's' — the latter word intended, I presume, to express the wounds inflicted on the soul by the sharp sword of the tongue — of the comical ones, *curs.' In Act III, 3, 13 — 16, unless we have one of the short lines which are occasionally to be met with in Shakespeare — a possible, but not, I think, here a probable circumstance — a lacuna occurs in the text, through the carelessness of the trans- criber, or the printer. My kind Antonio, I can no other answer make but thanks, And thanJcs and ever oft good turns Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. I need scarcely say — every critic can see — that * thanks ' was in all likelihood the word that originally was repeated for the third time after ' ever ' ; but I may be permitted to observe, what it has occurred to no critic that I know of to note, that, that done, the verse is mended, the metre is completed, no further insertion is necessary, none must be tolerated. For this is one of those instances, where a pause occurs in a line, and that pause is TWELFTH night; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 127 equivalent to a syllable. It is not necessary that I should cite examples of this well-known peculiarity of Shakespearian prosody; but, inas- much as there are passages elsewhere, where the same peculiarity occurs, but where emendations have been essayed, as though the metre were defective, I will avail myself of this opportunity to quote one or two such passages, not, it must be distinctly understood, as vouchers for, but merely as illustrations of, the limited alteration, to which in the present instance I insist that we should confine ourselves. In 'All's Well that Ends Well' we read, Act II, 3, 140, That is honour's scorn, Which challenges itself as honour's born And is not like the sire : honours thrive. When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers. Here, though the wanting syllable is capable of being supplied either by pausing after ' sire,' or by making ' sire * pass as a dissyllable, would it be believed that some editors have actually foisted into the text ' our honours thrive ' ! Take another instance from ' Timon,' Act Y, 4, 35, All have not offended ; For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are, revenge ; crimes, like lands, Are not inherited. 128 Sard knots in shake spe are. Here the 'Globe' editors read ' revenges,' wliich no doubt Shakespeare uses elsewhere, but which they have no authority for supposing that he used here ; nor is the correction necessary. Lastly in 'King John,' Act V, 7, 35, Poison'd — ill fare — dead, forsook, cast off, the footnotes of the ' Cambridge ' Shakespeare will show how some would have botched where there is really no need for mending at all. But it is no botching to write Thanks, and ever thmiks : oft good turns. With respect to technicalities of punctuation, there is room for considerable divergence of opinion* Yet I cannot but think that, when a sentence is not broken off altogether, but merely interrupted by a parenthetical remark, and after that resumed, its continuity as a sentence should be marked, as far as possible, by means of the stops. This does not seem to me to have been done in Act III, 4, 86 — 91, which is thus set down in the * Globe ' Shakespeare : Mai. Why, everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance — "What can be said ? Nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. According to this mode of pointing, it would seem that a sentence was left unfinished, a question asked, and a fresh sentence commenced with the words, TWELFTH night; OH, WHAT YOU WILL. 129 * Nothing that can be ;' but, as a matter of fact, these last words are merely a continuation of the sentence which had been interrupted by the bye-question, * Wliat can be said ?' Dram, scruple, obstacle, circum- stance, all these are too feeble to express what Malvolio is hammering at ; he pauses, therefore, and asks, * What can be said ?' How can he put it more forcibly? The words that follow — 'Nothing that can be ' — are his continuation, his climax, his last best stroke of words. A comma, then, should be placed after * circumstance;' 'what can be said' should be armed with brackets or hyphens; 'nothing,' should lose the capital, which is now its initial letter ; and Malvolio's words will be fitly presented thus : Why everything adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous or unsafe circumstance, — what can be said ? — nothing that can be can come between me and the full prospect of my hopes. To attach too much importance to the words of a fool would be the acme of folly ; but, when fools utter, albeit in a quaint and silly fashion, such soimd sense, as Shakespeare's fools frequently do, we are not warranted in pooh-poohing what we do not fully understand, and passing it by as mere foolery. What, then, does the Clown mean, when in Act IV, 1, 14, 15, he says, I am afraid this great lubber, the world, will prove a cockney ? It is somewhat against us that we are unable to ascertain either the origin or the precise meaning of X 6 130 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. * cockney.' All that we can assert positively is that it was wont to be used in no very complimentary sense. Perhaps our best chance of unravelling the meaning is to examine closely the texture of the passage. Sebastian had used a word, which to the fool's ear was new-fangled, far-fetched, affected, heard used by great men, and then borrowed, and straight applied to a fool's folly. ' What will happen next ' — cries the fool — ' now that Cesario ' — for such he must have imagined Sebastian to be — ' instead of using the good rough homely language of mother wit, takes upon him to spout in this high fantastic style ! By and by, not your picked men only and your fine fellows, but every lazy hulking chap will give himself airs, and affect the same singularity of diction.' The fool sees the evil spreading, like an epidemic, from individual to individual, till it becomes a general plague, and the huge world is nothing more or less than a lazar-house of cockneyism. Such I venture to think is the gist of a passage, which, if not as clear as it might be, is very far from deserving the condemnation of editors. ' Cockenay' is used in Chaucer, but this is the only passage, if I mistake not, in which it is to be found in Shakespeare* THE ^VINTER'S tale. 131 THE WINTER'S TALE. When a sentence is interposed between the pro- tasis and the apodosis of a hypothetical sentence, without being dependent on either of them, surely some more distinctive mark of separation than a. comma is required to isolate it from the two portions of the sentence which on either side enclose it. In Act I, 2, 273-76, of ' The Winter's Tale ' a couple of hyphens — a sign which has been used by the ' Globe ' editors with much effect in the six previous lines — must have been omitted involuntarily, and, for clear- ness' sake, should surely be substituted for the two commas which at present stand there, If thou wilt confess — Or else be impudently negative. To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought — then say My wife's, &c. &c. Further on, the correctness of the text has been challenged in the latter part of the 324th line where Leontes says to Camillo, Make that thy question, and go rot ; but it is not so much a revision of the text that is here wanted, as an interpreter of the meaning* 132 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Singer is of opinion that * that' refers to the queen's infidehty, and that the King of SiciHa as good as says, * If you treat that as a matter of doubt, and not of absolute certainty, to the dung-hill, to the crows with you !' But is not the sentiment much about the same as that which was expressed on a memorable occasion in those well-known words to a manifest traitor, ' What is that to us? See thou to it,' Leontes insinuating that Camillo must be false in his profes- sions of loyal attachment, because he had not revealed to him the secret of the queen's alleged infidelity? Probably the King had no wish to be turned from his subject by the introduction of this bye-question of Camillo's loyalty. Further on still, in the same Act and Scene, lines 457-460, there is a passage, which has miserably embarassed the critics, but the difficulty of which I cannot but think has been greatly overestimated. It occurs in the latter part of one of Polixenes' speeches, where he says. Fear o'er shades me : Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Dr. Johnson affirmed that he could make nothing of the words, ' part of his theme, but nothing of his ill- ta'en suspicion ;' and, if Theobald had said so, we might be chary of giving any opinion ; but Johnson does not hold the same rank as a Shakespearian THE winter's tale. ISB expositor as he does as an English lexicographer. The two phrases seem to me to stand in a sort of appositional relation to the 'queen.' 'Part of his theme,' of course, means that she equally "with Polixenes was the subject of the ling's reflections ; but the meaning of the other phrase, 'nothing of his ill-ta'en suspicion,' is not so appai'ent. If it can only mean that the queen was not suspected by the King, it is utterly unsuitable, and must be pro- nounced corrupt ; but may it not bear another meaning more agreeable to the sense required ? In 'Antony and Cleopatra,' Act II, 2, 79-80, the words, Let this fellow Be nothing of our strife, can only mean, 'Let him give no occasion to us to quarrel ;' and ' This fellow is nothing of our strife ' would mean ' This fellow gives no occasion to us to quarrel;' and similarly 'The queen is nothing of the King's suspicion ' may mean, ' She gives no occasion to the King to suspect, however much he may suspect ;' she does nothing to lyromote it ; and in that sense she is 'nothing of it.' As for the words ' comfort the queen,' I dismiss Warburton's conjec- ture 'the queen's,' which, though it satisfied Dr. Johnson, is a mere shirking of the difficulty, and I conceive that Polixenes expresses a wish that the good expedition, which he prays may befriend himy may * comfort the queen.' 134 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. I put it thus : where he was, he was already a doomed man, without a chance of vindicating his character, or escaping the King's vengeance. To get away as fast as he could, was his only hope ; well then he might pray for himself, ' Good expedition be my friend.' But, while he was thus providing for his own safety, what of the queen ? His presence at court would certainly not avail her during the short space that he would be suffered to bide there ; protest his innocence as much as he might, the ears of jealousy would be deaf to his protestations. What then ? His speedy withdrawal — his disappearance from the scene — beneficial to himself, would benefit also the queen ; would be the best arrangement not indeed for her justification — for that was impossible — but for her 'comfort.' It was what she herself would have him do under the circumstances. Well then he might further pray that his expeditious departure might ' comfort the queen.' The Cambridge editors suggest that they would have expected Polixenes to say that his flight with- out Hermione would be the best means of dispelling Leontes' suspicion ; but that he well knew that he could not hope to do; the fire of jealousy is not so easily extinguished. The utmost that he could do was not to fan and fuel the flame by his presence ; not to add to the queen's already great discomfort, but go, and leave it to time to prove THE winter's tale. 135 "both his innocence and hers. It was the best course for hotli : for him it was life ; for her his prayer was that it might be ' comfort.' There is a passage in Act II, 1, 133 — 36, where Antigonus declares that, if it should turn out that the queen has gone wrong, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife ; I'll go in couples with her ; Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her. A mere bubble of a difficulty this ! The last line expresses in plain language what the former lines had expressed in the language of metaphor. Nothing but the testimony of his senses should convince him that his wife was faithful to him. He must have ocular, nay, tangible testimony. The chase was his delight; he must look to his horses ; but, while looking after them, he could not have an eye upon his wife. "Well — one building shall serve for both — ' he will keep his stables where he lodges his wife.' Does the declaration sound monstrous ? Not a whit more monstrous was it in his estimation than the monstrous suspicion that the King had harboured concerning the queen. But further; he must look to the coupling of his hounds ; this operation supplies him with a figure expressive of yet closer watchful* ness ; a coupling chain shall be reserved for his wife, that, by having her at his elbow, he may kuow that she has not given him the slip. 136 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. So then the emendation of ' stabler ' or * stablers/ proposed by the Cambridge editors, though involving a minimum of change, is objectionable for the simple reason, that it is a change, where no change is required. Six lines lower down Antigonus protests that the King had been deceived by some putter-on, and that, if he knew the villain, he would ^Hand- damn ' him. This strange compound has perplexed the most learned and sagacious commentators. All that we can venture to pronounce positively is, that it must denote some punishment, adequate to the magnitude of the crime, wliich it was in the power of the speaker to inflict in this flesh- and-blood world. Would he damn him from the land by throwing him into perpetual durance ? or into the sea ? or into the fire ? or would he damn him to the land by burjdng liim quick in it ? or is it possible that the term is borrowed from feudal nomenclature, and that by land-damning he meant taking from him the land he held and his personal freedom, and condemning him and his posterity to- servitude and the degrading occupa- tion of cultivating the land of another ? Or is it possible that we can cast a glimmer of light on this dark and mysterious compound from the following passage in 'Cymbeline,' Act I, 2, where * Land damne — so the first Folio, THE winter's tale. l37 Cloten aid some lords are talking of a duel, which had jusi taken place between the former and Posthunus Leonatus : Glo. The villain would not stand me. Sec. Lod. [Aside] No ; but he fled forward still, toward your face. First jord. Stand you ! You have land enough of your own : but he aided to your having ; gave you some ground. Sec. jord. {^Astde"] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! Glo. I would they had not come between us. Sec. Lord. \_A&ide'\ So would I, till you had measured how long a bol you were upon the ground. ^ Lmd-damn him* in the light of this passage would contain a deal in a small compass — the chalbnge which Antigonus would have sent him; the cuel which he would have fought with him ; the resolution with which he would have held his own ground ; the fiery vigour with which he would have forced him to give him some of his ground ; the stunning blow which he would have dealt him till he had measured his length on the ground, and, having left him no ground to stand upoD. whether he would damn him further, and forbid his body interment, we need not pursue — the land-damning would have been thorough and complete. The illiterate multitude of Shakespeare's 138 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESrEARE* day (and we are no better off than they, 30 far as accurate knowledge of this word goes) woutl under- stand the meanmg and significance of thj last^ if they could not of the first portion of this mysterious compound. , But there is another mode of smoothing the difficulty which deserves to be mentioned. * Land- damn ' was the title of a high magistrate in i Swiss canton, and might have been used to indicite the sort of authority which the Sicilian officer desired, to warrant his infliction of a punishment of except^ ional severity. As its final syllable emphatically repeated the ' damn ' of the preceding line, i; gave room for a double entendre, with which the luthor condescended not unfrequently to diveri his audience. The entire word, with the true meaning of it, would occur to the statesman and t) the scholar, and would satisfy their sense of juiicial propriety; but the second half of the word, wiih its delusive sound, would be rapturously caught it by the inerudifce multitude, and would be hailel by them with revengeful vociferations. '7 would be his judge — I would deal with him, with a vengemce ' — such would be accepted as the drift of Antigcnus' exclamation. In '2 Henry IV,' Act I, 2, when the Chief Justice says to Falstaff, I sent for you, when there were matters against you for your life, to come speak with me, THE winter's tale. 139 Falstaff answers, As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. I pass on to a passage, which has caused some dispute, in Act III, 2, 60-62, where Hermione says, More than mistress of Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. The expression is peculiar, and the order of the words equally so ; but neither is repugnant to Shakespearian usage; the fellow-line we have in *As You Like It,' I show more mirth than I am mistress of. It is, of course, possible — it has actually been conjectured — that the letter ?», preceded by an apostrophe, may have been omitted before ' mistress ' — the latter word beginning with an m would facilitate the omission — and even that the pronoun itself [I'/»,] may also have been omitted. The addition would not incommode the metre. But we must not recast Shakespeare's sentences to please the fastidiousness of modern readers; the ellipse is not incredible ; the sense is perfectly clear ; the passage might have been more explicit, it would not have been more forcible, had the words been I must not acknowledge more fault than I am mistress of. There remains to be accounted for the little clause, ^ which comes to me in name of fault.' This is 140 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. what is called a relative proposition, limiting some- thing, which is stated in general terms. Such parenthetical clauses are frequent in ancient classi- cal literature. To the explanation, then, which I have already given, I have merely to add, ' at least so far as relates to that which comes to me in the category of fault,' and I have said enough on this passage to remove not perhaps the suspic- iousness of a Leontes, but, I trust, of every unbiassed critic. There is seemingly a slight flaw in Act IV, 3, 98, where we read They cherish it (i.e. virtue) to make it stay there, and yet it will no more but abide. *But' seems out of place. There are many words which might be substituted for it, e.g. *jot,' or *whit,' or even *bit,' a little word often used by rural folk, and not unlikely to drop from a Clown's mouth. 'More bit' would be like * more requital ' — * King John, ' Act II, 1, 34 — and * our more leisure' — * Measure for Measure,' Act I, 3, 49; lastly — and this remark may make us pause before we commit ourselves to any change at all — * but,' having itself at times a negative signification, may have been used, or misused, to fortify the negation. But what am I saying ? The Clown is represented as a poor simple silly fellow. Should we, then, weigh his nonsense in the scales of reason and sense ? THE winter's tale. 141 There is another word which proceeds from the Clown, in the 250th line of the 4th Scene of the same Act, which has confounded the learned. * Clamour your tongues, and not a word more,' if right, has not yet been shown to be so. Perhaps it was a slang term in olden time, which has long since been defunct, and which needs not now be exhumed ; but I should not be surprised if it were an error of the copyist, miswritten for * Shame o* your tongues.' I read in the ' Globe ' edition in Act IV, 4, 590-92, My good Camillo, She is as forward of her breeding as She is i' the rear our birth. Notwithstanding that * 'our ' is the reading of the Folios, * 'our ' and * o' her ' have such a strong phonetic resemblance, and the latter here is so far preferable to the former, that I would stretch a point for once, and read * o' her.' * She is as forward in respect of her breeding, as she is back- ward in respect of her birth.' As said Buckingham in * King Eichard III,' ' So cunning and so young.' I had all but dropped my pen, when my eye fell on a word in a speech of Autolycus in the 760th line, where we read Thinkest thou, for that I insinuate, or* toaze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier ? * The first Folio has ' at toaze.' 142 HAKD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Singer thinks that we have the same word here^ as in the phrase * to toaze wool,' which he says is to pluck or draw it out. The only approach to a parallel that I can recollect in Shakespeare is in * Measure for Measure,' * I'll touse you joint by joint.' * To toazle ' hay — I can vouch for the use and the sound, but not for the spelling — is used in Devonshire meadows for shaking out the hay, in order to scatter and expose it to the burning rays of the sun. There are numbers of words and phrases current in provincial and rural districts — becoming more and more rare, as intercommunica- tion increases — which have no place in a Latham's or a Webster's Dictionary. A vagabond like Autolycus might have picked up some of these unconsidered trifles in country lane or village fair. As for Leontes' speech in Act V, 1, 66-60, I am quite willing to leave it as it is found printed in the first Folio, One worse And better used, would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, (Where we offenders now appear), soul-vex'd, And begin, Why to me ? The meaning here is tolerably clear without inserting 'are' before 'offenders,' as the * Globe' editors do, and making * and ' connect the two verbs 'possess ' and ' appear ' — ' and on this stage ' is both idiomatic and Shakespearian English. KING JOHN. 14^ KING JOHN. In the first Scene of the second Act [Act II, I, 183-90] of ' Kng John,' by way of prelude to the great battle, whith is about to be fought before the walls of AngieB between the French and the Austrians on the one side, and the English forces on the other, thei3 is a smart skirmish of tongues — a sort of Gynaekanachia — between. Elinor and her daughter-in-law (Constance, the two champions respectively of thetwo rival candidates for the Eng- lish crown, in whidi the latter with her two weapons * sin ' and ' plague ' presses her adversary so persis- tently, and in such ;, rapid dashing shifting fashion, that, though we can see clearly enough the aim and effectiveness of her general strategy, we have not a very distinct notion d the force and bearing of her particular evolutions^ and assaults. The passage is in every sense a plaguy one ; the punctuation has first to be settled — th«n the explanation. I should imagine that the stiffest sticlder for Folio pointing would be willing in this instance to acquiesce in the pointing adopted by the editors of the 'Globe* 144 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEA.1E. Shakespeare, where the various claises are thus divided : I have but this to say, That he is not only plagued for her sir. But God hath made her sin *and herohe plague On this removed issue, plagued t forhcr And with her plague ; her sin his iniiry, Her injury the beadle to her sin. All punished in the person of this ciild. And all for her ; a plague upon her. There are two ways in which chldren may suffer by their fathers — either indirecthj, by their fathers' sins being visited upon them, oxdirccthj^ by their fathers' grossly ill-using them. R)w in both these ways Constance, the mother of Prnce Ai'thur, avers that Elinor, his grandmother, haJ been a plague to him. Not only has she, by hex general vickedness, entailed upon him an inheritance of wo«, according to the denunciation of the decalogue ; but, in the super- fluity of her naughtiness, she is actually in her own person doing him a particular iijury, in that she is leagued with her son John, vho is a usurper, to deprive her grandson of that goodly inheritance, which is his by right of primogeniture. The latter sin was worse than the former: for in the former case the ill might have fallen ujon him without her * and her, Ff , t For her, And with her plague her sin; his injury Ff. KING JOHN. 145 having ever intended it, albeit she were the ccmse of it ; but in the latter it was inflicted by her con- sciously, deliberately, and as it were with her own hands belabouring him. With these two clues to guide us, we shall not have much difficulty in threading our way through the intricacies of the passage. For clearness' sake I will present my explanation in the following form : *I have but this to say, that he is not only plagued for her sin ' — that is, for the general sin committed by her, which, according to the canon, is visited upon him — ' but God hath made her sin and her ' — aye, not only her sin, but actually her, her personally, the very grandmother herself — 'the plague on this re- moved issue, plagued for her ' — f/i/.s' refers to the canoni- cal denunciation — ' and with her plague ' — tliis to the grandam's present direct ill-usage of him, in conspirmg with her son John to rob him of his right- ful inheritance — 'her sin his injury' — that is, she has done him grievous wrong in having lived such a life as to bring down upon him the divine chastise- ment, but, as if that were not enough, — ' her injury the beadle to her sin ' — she is actually now herself inflicting a wrong upon him, which with beadle-like severity scourges him ; in a word, her past wicked- ness, and her present unnatural cruelty, her injury of him indirectly, and now also directly, ' all ' are now visited with the divine chastisement, but not unfor- tunately on the head of her the wrong doer ; but all J 7 146 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. are ' punisliecl in the person of this child ' — not for anything which he has done to deserve it, but ' all for her ; a plague upon her !' After getting out of this labyrinth, we pursue a ■ straight and easy course, until we come to Act III, 1, 259, where it is not a little tantalizing that we have in the Folios a word, which is as nearly right as it possibly can be without being exactly right. ' A cased lion ' may have been intended either for ' chafed ' — so Theobald — or for ' chased ' — so Pope — or for * caged' — so Collier. It does not follow, because we have in ' King Henry VIII,' Act III, 2, 206, So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has galled him, that * chafed ' was certainly the word used by Shake- speare here; a passage in 3 'Henry VI,' Act I, 3, 12, 13, So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws, may give some countenance to 'caged,' a word which I need not say is used by Shakespeare, and is not an unlikely one, as s and (j are somewhat similarly formed, and are not unfrequently confused — e.g. corasio for coragio. But why quibble about a word, when we have, if we can, to unravel the elaborate web of Cardinal Pandulph's subtle casuistry — a mar- vellous sample of priestly sophistry — w^hich extends from the 263rd line to the 297th, though the most KING JOH^^ 147 knotty part is contained in the 279tli to the 285th line : If. is religion that doth make tows *kept ; Bat thou hast sworn against rehgion, By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st. And makest an oath the surety for thy truth Against an oath : the truth, thou art unsure To swear, swears only not to be forsworn. To say that Shakespeare intended Pandnlph's speech to be subtle, and his logic close and intricate, is right enough ; that he intended it to be incomprehensible, cannot be allowed. I make no question that the lines as we have them are as the poet composed them ; ■ all we have to do is to ascertain the pmictua- tion ; that done, the explanation will follow. I have transcribed the passage pretty much as I have found it in the ' Globe ' Shakespeare, because, after turning- it well over in my mind, I am persuaded that the arrangement there adopted is in the main correct. For the elucidation of the speech I shall make the following expansion of it. Thou art setting faith against faith, oath against oath, tongue against tongue (263-265). Thy first vow was to be the champion of the church ; it was made to heaven ; it was advantageous to thyself ; to heaven it should be performed. Thy second vow was to be true to thy compact with England's king ; it * In the first Folio the passage is pun-ctuated thus : Kept, religiou : thy truth, au oath the truth, not to be foresworn, 148 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE,, was contrary to thy interest ; it was contraiy to religion ; it may not be performed (205-69). For, if a man swears what is wrong, it is not u'ronfjhj done — that is to say, it is righthj done — when it is done • truhj, and it is done truhi, when it is not done at ally because, if it is done, it tends to evil (269-73). The better plan is, when purposes are mistaken, that they sliould be again mistaken, that is, that they should be reversed, so that they should be as if they had never been. Indirection, instead of being persisted in, should be made direct by ilidirection. The crooked course should be trodden back again, till the foot stands where it did before. There is a sort of homoeopathy in ethics, as well as in physics ; false- hood cures falsehood, as fire cools burns (273-78). Vows are only obligatory, in so far as they conform to the canons of the church — ' it is religion that doth make vows kept, but thou hast sworn against religion by what thou swearest against the thing thou swearest,' that is to say, by swearing two things which are irreconcilable with each other, the one being fidelity to the King of England, the other, fidelity to the Church ; and so thou art making an oath a surety for thy truth against an oath. Surety for thy truth indeed ! The truth, as to which thou art so unsure — for how canst thou with all thy vacilla- tion and equivocation give any suretyship for it — the truth, the tongue of truth, the man of truth, swears only not to be forsworn ; truth's sole object is EING JOHiJ-, 149 truth, but thy object is falsehood — thou dost swear only to be forsworn. The Cardinal concludes with an exhortation to Philip to repudiate his second, and, return to his first vow, to which end he says he will pray ; but, if his prayers should prove ineffectual, he . has in reserve a heavy load of curses to heap on Philip's head, which will weigh him down to despera- tion and the dust. Having extricated ourselves from the Cardinal's meshes, we meet with no hindrance in our course until we come to the following passage in Act III, 3, 37 — 39, which is obelized by the ' Globe ' editors, If the midnight bell Did, -with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, Sound on into the drowsy race of night. The obelus seems to me unnecessary. Certainly * on ' must not be cast out for the little word ' one.' The correctness of * sound on ' is guaranteed by the occurrence of such phrases as ' say on,* ^go on,' 'run on'; a line in '1 Henry VI,' Act I, 2, 42, is very much to the purpose, Their arms are set like clocks, still to sfn'Jce on. * Drowsy race of night ' refers, I think, to the slow progress of the night, as 'her jades with drowsy slow and flagging wings ' pursue their course : elsewhere Night is called the ' cripple tardy-gaited ' ; and in 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' Act Y, 1, 375, we have *the heavy gait of 150 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Night ' : in ' Pericles ' a ' glorious walk ' is assigned to the day. The only instance that I rememher of ' race ' being used at all similarly in Shakes- peare, is in 'Measure for Measure,' Act II, 4, 160, Aucl now I give my sensual race the rein. Tlie next passage which catches my eye is in Act ly, 2, 40—43, Some reasons of this double coronation I have possess'd yon with and think them strong ; And more, more strong, then lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with. Here it is difficult to state positively what' the precise meaning is, because we are not at all sure what the reading should be. The little clause, * then lesser is my fear,' is our crux. I am inclined to think that ' then ' is a mistake for 'than ' — the two words are repeatedly inter- changed by the copyists — and that the comparative * lesser ' is a Shakespearian redundancy — numbers of such redundancies will occur to the reader — where we should rather use the simple comparative ' less ' ; unless, as is quite possible, the construction here is formed after the model of a well-known Greek and Latin idiom, of which the following example from Livy V, 43, will be a sufficient illustration, Bella fortius quam feliciusgerere. KING JOHN. 151 The king tells the peers that he has * more ' reasons, and ' more strong ' reasons for his double coronation than he has yet disclosed ; and it would be not mireasonable to expect him to add, that his fears had diminishecl in consequence. But I am not at all sure that this is what he says. Men, timid and irresolute, who have been agitated by fears, are not so easily reasoned out of their fears. The king was full of fearful foreboding. I mider- stand him to say that his reasons are stronger than his fears are less, which is another way of saying, that his fears were not lessened in proportion as his reasons w^ere numerous and weighty. The utmost had been done, but the terror had not passed. This avowal might have been merely the outcome of a heart conscious of its own guilt, but I think that it was rather prompted by the suspicious attitude of the peers towards him, to whom he thus conveys a hint that he is not ignorant of their disaffection. As a slight confirmation of this interpretation, it is noticeable that, in the short remainder of his speech, the King expresses himself as willing to agree to such measures of reform, as they should deem expedient. I shall next notice a pretty emendation which has been introduced into the text in Act Y, 6, 12, where Hubert, having met the Bastard in the darkness of the night and failed to recognise him, on being- made aware who it was that he had failed to recognise, exclaims, 15^ HARD KNOTS IN SHAKE SPE ABE. Unkind remembrance ! thou and endless night Have done rae shame : brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. I have written ' endless ' night, because ' endles ' — 'endlesse' — 'endless' is the reading of the Folios; yet ' eyeless,' which Theobald adopted, has become the text us receptus-. We must admit that an ' endless ' night is a physical impossibility ; yet the expression is not an impossible one : it may be regarded either as a loose popular way of speaking, or as the natural though hyperbolic language of impatience or intense anxiety. People say there is no end to a business, trouble, journey, period of time, when the business, trouble, journey, time are more lingering and tedious than they either wish or expect. And so Hubert, walking in the black brow of night to find the Bastard, impatient and eager to find him that he might communicate to him the stunning intelligence of the poisoning of the king, having all but missed him through the prevailing darkness although close to him, may, inaccurately indeed from a physical, but correctly enough from a popular or metaphysical point of view, apostrophize the night as ' endless.' A difficulty also has been made of ' mvisible ' in Act V, 7, 15-17, Death, having preyed upon the outward parts. Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind. KING JOHN. 153 But ' invisible ' may be used here for ' invisibly,' the adjective for tlie adverb — -a well-known Shakespearian peculiarity. Personify the King of terrors, give him a kind of body and the power of making himself visible or invisible, and the adverbial adjective is neither inappropriate nor destitute of force. Yet there is another mode of smoothing the difficulty which is not incompatible with the reading of the Folios. The exact word of the copies is ' inuisihle.' This may have been intended not for ' invisible,' but for 'inusible' — a strange form, no doubt; yet ' intenible,' which we find in ' All's Well That Ends Well, '.Act I, 3, 208, and 'inaidible' in the same play, Act II, 1, 122, may both match and justify it. Granted its admissibility, its applicability is incon- trovertible. Death, having preyed upon the outward organs and made them utterly useless, proceeds next to make havoc of the powers of the mind. Below in the 21st line, where the editions have ^ ejjfjnet,' the Folios have ' Sijmet ;' the converse happens in 'Macbeth,' Act V, 3, 55, where ^ cijmc' of the copies is very properly printed ' senna ' in the editions. 154 HAKD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. laNG EICHABD THE SECOND. The Cambridge editors tell us that the Quarto is the best authority for the text of * King Richard the Second ;' yet in Act I, 2, 67-70, where that copy has Alack, and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfumish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? And what chcere there for welcome but my groans ? they reject 'cheer,' and give the preference to *hear/ which is the reading of the Folios. Unquestionably * see ' and ' hear ' more closely correspond to each other than ' see ' and ' cheer,' and ' hear ' is the word that we should naturally have expected ; but, in cal- culating the probabilities of what Shakespeare wrote, it is not always safe to build too much on what a modern critic would expect. Shakespeare is as fond of varying his diction as he is of observing correspon- dences. The occurrence of such a word as 'welcome' would in this particular instance have facilitated a change, 'cheer' and 'welcome' being reciprocally suggestive. Copyists do not usually set down the rarer word by mistake in lieu of the more common one. Besides, the idea of hearing is contained in the plirase KING RICHARD THE SECOND. 155 *wliat cheer there for welcome.' Whether 'hear' were inserted by Shakespeare, when he revised the play, as is certainly possible, or were a correction by Shakespeare's friends, when they undertook to collect his works, we cannot now decide, but I think it not improbable that ' cheer,' which is set down in the first Quarto, the earliest and most tnistivorthy impression, was the word that Shakespeare orifjinalhj introduced. Nor would I be positive, as some critics are, that in Act I, 3, 128, And for our eyes do hal;e the dire aspect Of cruell wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword, * civil ' was intended, where ' cruel ' is copied. * Ploughed up with neighbours' sword ' is sufficient tOifcindicate that the contest was a civil one. What we have here is not a possible contingency suggested to the mind, but a ghastly spectacle — ' dire aspect ' is the royal phrase — presented to the eye. Under these circumstances, ' cruel ' is no mere common descrip- tive epithet; it is a sentimental one, expressive of the shocked feelings of one who as it were saw with his eyes the furrowed wounds ; how cruelly intestine war is wont to be waged, has been drawn by the masterly hand of Thucydides. ' Civil ' is the word of the historiographer and of the critic, but is not ' cruel ' the feeling exclamation of the eye-witness, and the vivid expression of the poet ? In ' Troilus and Cres- sida,' Prologue, line 5, we read, Fraught with the ministers and instruments Of cruel war. 156 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. I shall next say a word on the arrangement of the text in Act II, 1, 246-48, where some can seenothmg but broken and imperfect remains. I do not agree with them. It is not uncommon, when some state- ment is made, which is intended to be particularly emphatic, to give it point and prominence by putting it in an isolated position. Thus, in ' As You Like It,' ' Thou hast not loved ' is three times introduced (Act II, 4, 36, 39, 42), and each time it is made more impressive by being set in a line by itself. The same is done in 'Hamlet,' Act I, 1, 129, 132, 135. And so here ; the one fact which of all others was sure and certain was that Eichard had forfeited the affections of all classes of his subjects. Accordingly the fact is emphasized by the special position which is assigi|pd to it: The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes. And (luite lost their hearts : The nobles hath he fined for ancient quarrels. And quite lost their hearts. There is also disagreement among editors as to the way in which the stops should be set, and con- sequently as to the exact meaning to be given to the Queen's words in Act II, 2, 39, 40. I allow but of one way of punctuating the passage, which, however, has not been approved of by the ' Globe ' editors : But what it is that is not yet known what, I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. Further down — 108th and following lines— a portion KING RICHARD THE SECOND. 157 of a speech of York's has incurred the suspicion of the same learned editors : Gentlemen, will you go muster men ? If I know how or which way to order these affairs Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen : The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath And duty bids defend ; the other again Is ray kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd. The second of the above lines is the one which is actually obelized ; why, I can hardly say ; not surely from any dislike to the phrase * how or which way,' the frequent recurrence of which in Shakespeare is a pledge, that it is genuine ; thus in ' All's Well That Ends Well,' Parolles says, Act IV, 3, 156, I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will ; and in 'Two Gentlemen of Verona,' Act III, 1, 87, we read, How and which way I may bestow myself ; and in 'I Hemy VI,' Act II, 1, 71-73, Then how or which way should they first break in ? Puc : Question, my lords, no further of the case. How or wHch way ; 'tis sure they found some place. Is it then because the line is an Alexandrine ? but the tedious length of an Alexandrine is neither out of place nor destitute of force in this passage, through- out the whole of which York shows, by his abrupt, laboured, hesitating, perplexed utterances, in what an extremely difficult position he suddenly finds himself, 158 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and how utterly unable he is to choose with resolution and act with energy. The first three words of the line, — * If I know ' — must be taken as an anap^st, just as we have elsewhere 'If I were,' 'If our betters,' &c., &c.; so that it is not necessary, although it would be easy, to take the words, 'if I,' and tack them on to tlie end of the shorter line that immediately precedes, in which line, as is not uncommon in Shakespeare's versification, 'gentlemen' is equivalent to a dissyllable. One alteration I am sure that we must not make ; we must not attempt to give an easier flow and more smoothness to the tJiinl line of the above passage by placing 'disorderly' after 'thrust,' instead of, as it stands, with all its rough strength and vigour, * alike in all the Quartos and in all the Folios, before it. The order of the words ministers to the scene of disorder. * Disorderly ' has as much right to its place, as * detestable ' has in the lines, which no one would, and no one could alter, And I will kiss tliy detestable bones ; Thou detestable man : Any interference of the metre-mongers here is as unnecessary, as it is mischievous. Even in the last line, the emphasis, which was mtended to be laid on * whom,' gives it the time of a dissyllable, though Shakespeare would probably have pleased some critics better, had he written. The other again, Se is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong' d. •KING EICHARD THE SECOND. 159 * Sometlimg,' it has been said, *has doubtless dropped out ' in Act III, 2, 175-77, where my text book has •f I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends ; subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king ? But here again, the lack in the measure of the verse may have been intended by the poet, in order to bring out into striking relief the lack of means complained of by the King. ' Something is wanting,' the critics cry; * something is wanting,' is King Eichard's lament ; the expression matches the mat- ter ; the effect is impressive and significant. If, however, it were necessary to excogitate an emenda- tion, I should certainly not side with those who affirm that the 'best suggestion is that of Sydney Walker,' who after * needs friends ' thrusts in * fear enemies.' I really think that, without assuming too much to myself, I can offer something more plausible than that. If Shakespeare had written, I live with bread like you, lilce you feel want, Taste grief, need friends lilce you ; subjected thus. How can you say to me, I am a king ? the very repetition and close proximity of the under- lined words might have facihtated the omission of them. Some such arrangement we have in ' The Winter's Tale,' Act IV, 4, 138, When you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so, so give alms. Pray so. 160 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. but I hear the judicious critic cry, ' Ohe, ohe ! '— Enough, enough ! This is Hke mending of high ways in summer, when the ways are fine enough. It matters not a straw, so far as the sense is concerned, whether in Act V, 1, 25, we read 'stricken' with the Fohos, or ' thrown ' with the first four Quartos. On the supposition, however, that the Quarto is the most reHable authority, there is no metrical reason why we should not foUow it here, as elsewhere. In Shakespeare's prosody ' thrown ' is as good for a dissyllable as ' stricken.' I need not present it in the form of ' throwen,' after the analogy of *wreathen,' 'shotten,' 'strucken,' 'foughten,' 'fretten,.' 'droven,' — all used by Shakespeare — I need not point to the use of other monosyllables as dissyllables, in order to support my contention ; I will merely quote a line from 'Pericles,' Act V, 3, 23, where ' thrown ' is actually used, just as, according to the Quartos, it is here : Throivn upon this shore, I oped the coffin. Aye, ' thrown ' — and I am not sure that 'thrown,' though passed over by some for * stricken,' is not the more ponderous and forcible, and therefore prefer- able word here. Accordingly I write Which our profane hours here have thrown down. Does not the critic hear the thud ? KING HENRY THE FOURTH,— PART I. 1-61 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. Part I. In ' The First Part of King Henry the Fourth,' at the very commencement of the play, a word of com- mon use and simple meaning, by the connexion in which it stands, forces itself on the attention of the reader, and fills him with surprise and perplexity.. As he repeats the lines — Act I, 1, 5-6 — No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood, he hesitates at the word 'entrance,' and sceptically inquires, whether that is the reading of the copies, whether it can be correct, what other word it is possible and probable that Shakespeare may have written. Nor is he singular in his perplexity. Pages have been written on the passage ; numerous emen- dations have been proposed ; I shall add one page more, not for the purpose of starting one more emendation, but to defend the reading of the Quarto, and to indicate one or two meanings, which it seems to me that it is capable of bearing. And the first in order of mention will probably be reckoned first also in merit. According to it, 162 HARD KNOTS I^N SHAKESPEARE, ' entrance ' is used to designate an organic part of the earth's personified body. The hps are the portals of the mouth ; through them the ' entrance ' into it is effected ; the streams of blood that were drunk, , as they passed into the mouth, surged over through the narrowness of the ' entrance,' and daubed the lips ; and thus, what in reality was caused by the gory fluid, may be said to have been occasioned by the ' entrance ' through which it was admitted, This explanation is in keeping with the imagery, and makes the epithet 'thirsty' apply to the earth, as having craved for, or at any rate copiously imbibed' the horrid drink. Or secondly, ' entrance ' may not denote a vital and constituent part of the earth's body at all, but something extraneous to and independent of it. We still regard the earth as a person ; her habitation is coextensive with the soil from which she derives or to which she gives her name ; as the sea- God is masked by the sea, as the river-Gods by the waters, so the earth is concealed by a layer, more or less thick, of the soil under which she dwells — it is this outer stratum, this ' entrance ' as it were of the soil, through which the blood that is shed upon it quickly sinks, to be drunk, whether she wills it or not, by the great subterranean mother herself. The rapidity with which it permeates the superficial crust justifies perhaps the application of ' thirsty ' to ' entrance ' rather than to the earth, to whom, strictly speaking, it would more properly belong. IKING HENRY THE FOURTH.— PART I^ 163 There is a third mode of treating the passage^ which varies considerably from the two preceding ones, and which, in default of them, may perhaps deserve a place. The ' thirsty entrance of this soil ' may be a bold periphrasis for an invader setting foot on the land, thirsting for one or other of those many objects which usually influence such adventurers, and which may be summed up under the two heads of private interest or public utility ; it is even possible that ' entrance ' may be used for the person who enters^ just as elsewhere ' conduct ' stands for ' conductor,' * revolts ' for ' revolters,' ' medicine ' for ' medical practitioner,' 'liberties of sin' for * sinful libertines,' and in" ' Much About Nothing,' a certain person is said to be ' turned orthography.' But, be this as it may, it is certain that the King is referring to recent events in the national history, and it is possible that he may be excusing the part which he himself had taken therein, and lamenting the mcessity — such is the common plea of all these scourges of their kind — which had compelled him to disembark on the coast of Yorkshire, unfurl the banner of rebellion, and pollute his country with blood. As a slight confirmation of this view of the passage, it may be mentioned that, after the King had referred to the first landing on the soil (supposing that * entrance ' may allude to that event), he proceeds to mention the march into the inland countrn, where the fields were channelled with trenching war, and the flowers bruised by the armed hoofs of hostile paces. The 164 HARI> KNOTS IN SHAKESPEAEE. regular progress of the invader would tlins h& delineated. The next passage which I shall notice requires, I think, to be emended, rather than explained. It occurs in Act IV, 1, 31, where Hotspur is commen- ting on the contents of a letter which he had just received from his father, who politicly excused himself on various pretexts from joining at that critical moment the insurgent army. He writes me here, that inward sickness — And that his friends by deputation could not So soon be drawn. Here there is a violation both of the metre and the syntax. The most that can be said for the first line, as it stands, is that Hotspm- just reads enough of the sentence to get the pith of it, and then, leaving it unfinished,, hurries on, impatient to hear what comes next.. Such hot-headed haste, it must be admitted, would be eminently characteristic of the speaker, who, much as he was concerned that the Trent should run on straight and even,, for the straightness and even- ness of the gi'ammar would care not a groat. In my opinion, however, there is a surer, easier, more natural explanation. Allow for a little illegible writing — allow for a little confusedness, consequent on the words having been jumbled together rather too closely, and ' sickness ' and ' sick-he-is ' are all but identical. Unfortunately the former word has usurped the place of the latter, but the latter have a KING HENEY THE FOURTH. — PART I. 165 metrical and grammatical right to it. That Shake- speare did not disdain to end a line with some part or other of the substantive verb may be seen from- the. following examples, Which harm within itself so heinous is. ' King John,' Act III, 1, 40. From helmet to the spur all blood he was. ' King Henry V,' Act lY, 6, 6. For by my mother I derived am. * I King Henry YI/ Act II, 5, 74. With some confidence, therefore, I restore to the passage what I believe to be Shakespeare's own line, He writes me here that inward sick he is. I am not aware what amount of objection has been raised to Act V, 2, 8, where editors seem to have settled to their own satisfaction that ' supposition ' — such is the reading of the copies — is a mistake for ' suspicion,' and so ' suspicion ' they have printed. But Y\^orcester had only a moment before said, He will suspect us still and find a time To punish this oftence in other faults, and I hardly think that Shakespeare would have made him repeat himself immediately afterwards, by adding, Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes. May not that long awkward word 'supposition ' have been intended for a yet longer word ' supposititious/ 166 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. which was a critic's gloss, expressive of his opinion that the whole line was an interpolation ? Certain it is that, if the line were omitted, it would not be missed. The words of the speaker would flow on just as continuously and just as connectedly. If it be said that the phrase is undoubtedly a Shakespearian one, I answer, ' Undoubtedly, and perhaps borrowed from one of those passages where it actually occurs ?' But mark how differently it is used here from what it is elsewhere. In * Measm*e for Measure/ Act IV,. 1, 60-61, where we have O place and greatness ! millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee, and in ' A Lover's Complaint/ line 81, where we read That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face, it is in the one case (he person desired, in the other the person gazed at, who is said to be stuck all over with eyes; and by parity of expression we should have expected here not ' Suspicion stuck full of eyes ' — Suspicion's eyes are never wanting — but the per- sons who were the objects of suspicion, who in this particular instance were Vernon and Worcester. If the whole line is not a. forgery, rather than suppose that ' supposition ' was intended for ' suspicion,' I would remove the former word altogether, as a para- sitical fungus which had got attached to the original line, and I would substitute for it the pronoun ' we/ which continually recurs throughout the speech, and KING HENRY THE FOURTH. — PART I. 1G7 may have been accidentally omitted. This would give us "We all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes, a line of the normal length, Shakespearian in expres- sion, and unexceptionable as regards meaning. For, if once it were whispered that the King suspected them,, numbers of eyes, other than the King's, would be constantly upon them. But, although I have nothing more than ' supposition ' on which to found my opinion,, I have a strong ' suspicion ' that the line is * supposititious ? In conclusion, I may notice a singular ellipse of a verb in Act V, 2, 77-79, Better consider what you have to do Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, Can lift your blood up with persuasion. The verb,- of which ' I ' is the subject, is not actually expressed in any part of the sentence, but has to be taken out of the verbal phrase, * lift up with persua- sion,' the construction being, ' than I persuade ' — i.e. attempt to persuade — ' you, who have not well the gift of tongue, which can lift your blood up with persuasion.' I am well aware, however, that this is; not the only way in which it is possible to construe the sentence » 1'68 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEABE. KING HENKY THE FOUETH. Part II. I shall now proceed to probe one or two passages in the Second Part of 'King Henry the Fourth,' which are suspected of unsoundness. In Act I, 3, 36-37, there is certainly corruption, though it is susceptible of treatment, if not of cure. ' Should expectations and hopes be taken into account in forming an estimate of military resources?' — this is the question On which the debate turns in a council of war held in the palace of the Archbishop of York. Hastings contends that they should ; But, by your leave, it nerer yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. Lord Bardolph takes the opposite view, and states his case clearly enough, but the first two lines of his speech are clogged with difficulty, owing probably to -a word having been set down by the copyist, which, though it resembled, did not reproduce the word of the original. The lines are thus given in the * Globe ' Shakespeare : KING HENRY THE FOURTH. — PART II. 169 Tes, if this present quality of war, Indeed the instant action : a cause on foot Lives so in hope as in an early spring We see the appearing buds ; which to prove fruit, Hope gives not so much warrant as despair That frosts will bite them. It is manifest that in the first two lines some emen- dation is necessary, but none has yet been suggested which can be pronounced altogether satisfactory. "What is wanted is some verb to take the place of the adverb 'indeed.' The verb 'indued,' used often enough and sometimes rather peculiarly by Shake- speare, may be the verb that we are looking for. To Hastings' assertion that it never yet did hurt to lay down likelihoods and forms of hope Lord Bardolph answers, ' Yes, it did hurt, if this present quality of war,' that is to say, this warring on hope, this depen- dence on a bubble, this speculative gambling spirit, * indmd the instant action ' — were the covering to hide its nakedness, stuffed and padded its thin skeleton- like frame, were the blood to colour it, the soul to quicken it, the power in reserve to reinforce and renew it. ' Instant action,' which is the more particular expression, indicates a battle on the very eve of being fought, just as in ' 1 Henry IV,' Act 4, 4,20, we have I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the king ; 'a cause on foot' — the more general term — refers to a war already proclaimed and begun. The sense, Tl(y HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. which I have given to * indued,' is somewhat an-^ alogous to that which it bears in 'OtheUo,' Act III, 4,. 146, For let our finger ache, and it indues Our other healthful membera even to that sense Of pain. So far as resemblance to the word of the copies is concerned, 'indued' can hardly be bettered. We have merely to erase the comma after 'war,' and in the room of 'indeed' introduce 'indued.' In Act IV, 1, 50, the commentators are in doubt, whether Turning your books to graves is the exact phrase which Shakespeare indited. It has been thought that 'greaves' would be mose suitable. The change would be insignificant, the meaning unexceptionable, — the leather which bound the Archbishop's books being capable of being manufactured into that particular part of a soldier's equipment. Moreover, it is credible that 'greaves' was sounded like 'graves.' Notwithstanding, the word of the copies is not inappropriate, and I am not sure that it is not preferable. When it is said that the Archbishop turned his ink to blood, it is not meant that the ink became blood, but merely that he was intent on dipping into blood, and not into ink: and similarly his pen was not turned into a lance, but the pen was dropped, and the lance poised in its stead: and so with the tongue; and so with the KING HENRY THE FOURTH. — PART II. 171 trumpet: when, then, the Archbishop is said to be turnmg his books to 'graves,' it is not necessary to suppose that his books or any portion of them were actually itsed for military purposes, but simply that he left his study and his books, to deal with the battle-field, the slaughter, and the burial of the dead. Or I might put it thus : the Archbishop, instead of taking up his jjen, and dipping it into ink, and composing a learned hook, which would be a monu- ment to his memory, was poising the lance, and going to dip it into the blood of his countrymen, and the work, which he would be thus engaged in and which would be remembered as his, would be not a book, nor a library of books, but a grave, or rather a yardful of graves: a grave-maker he would be, and not a bookmaker. That 'graves,' rather than 'greaves,' is the genuine word, is rendered further probable by the order in which the several things referred to stand relatively to each other. To begin with the last first, and proceed in retrograde fashion, we observe first the military arrangements — ' a point of war'; next, the signal for battle — the 'trumpet*; after that, the charge and the combat — the 'lance'; then the slaughter — the 'blood'; last of all, what should, what must come? What but the burial of the dead — the 'graves'? 'Greaves' here would be out of place, and would spoil the picture of the Battle. There is reason, therefore, for the editors not departing from the reading of the Folio, 172 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. A little further on in the same Act and Scene we come to a spirited dialogue between the Duke of Westmoreland on the King's side, and the Arch* bishop of York on the side of the insurgents. West : When ever yet was your appeal denied ? Wherein have you been galled by the king ? What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you, That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forged rebellion with a seal divine And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ? Arch: t My brother general, the commonwealth. To brother born an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular. I must not omit to mention here that the last line of Westmoreland's speech, and the second of the Archbishop's, are not in the Folios, nor in every copy of the Quarto : their obliteration would greatly reduce, if it did not annihilate, the difficulty. Not- withstanding, as they are found in that particular copy, of the Quarto which is declared to be the most trustworthy authority for this play, we must not refuse to take them into account; for, to use the words of Bacon, we must not 'reject difficulties for want of patience in investigation.' On taking a general survey of the whole passage, what strikes me first and foremost, is the different cast and character of the two speeches: the contrast is very striking — in the one, indignant interrogatory, repeated fervid appeal, angry upbraiding, flowers of rhetoric; in the other, a cold calm concise dry KING HENRY THE FOURTH. — PART II. 173 judicial statement. The Ai'chbishop's reply has been thought wanting in clearness, confused, corrupt, Various efforts have been made to elucidate, to emend it. I admit that it embarasses, and almost staggers us at first; the arrangement is preposterous.; the phraseology peculiar; yet I do not believe that the .Archbishop has been misreported; nor can I allow that his words are ill-placed or ill-chosen, or that they are otherwise than lucid. We have to examine them in close connexion with Westmore- land's chidings; we have to consider the effect, that such ideas as Westmoreland's would be likely to have on one of the Ai'chbishop's spirit, discernment, and high pretensions; we must call to recollection, too, certain facts of history. Westmoreland had proceeded on the supposition that the Archbishop felt personally aggrieved and was seeking for personal satisfaction; he had twitted him with ingratitude, and branded him as a rebel and apostate; but he had not said one syllable of the public ivelfare, or the cause of humanitij. The Arch- bishop, cool, calm, collected, perceived his advantage, and seized it. He occupied at once the lofty summit of patriotism and humanity, and in three lines confounds his adversary. The interests of the commonwealth — the late King's violated majesty — these he places, and purposely places, and proudly places, in the very fore front of his reply, in order to contrast with, and stand directly opposed to. 1-74 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Westmoreland's miserable grovellings. These were the Archbishop's motives: these touched him personally; these were his grievances; these his quarrel. The measured tone, the air of lofty superiority, w^ith which he uttered the words, I make my quarrel in particular, can be better conceived than expressed. If we had heard the Archbishop's own elocution, there would have been no possibility, I think, of our misunder- standing his meaning. To come now to particulars, ' the commonwealth ' he calls his 'brother-general, 'just as in 'Coriolanus/ Act II, 3, 102, a certain one is ready to call the people his 'sworn brother,' though the expression, coming from an Archbishop's mouth, may be thought to have a more comprehensive significance, and to savour somewhat of Christian theology. The act of 'cruelty' referred to is BolinghroJce's treatment of Pilchard; 'household cruelty' it is called, to distinguish it from 'commonwealth cruelty'; 'brother- born' is an additional aggravation; for, if the Archbishop were bound to the people at large by the tie of a general brotherhood, by a dearer and nearer relationship was Bolingbroke bound to Eichard — was not a 'brother-general' merely, but a 'brother- born,' seeing that they had both sprung from the same blood royaJ. The same two capital reasons are elsewhere alleged as the pretext and justification of the rebellion. In KING HENRY THE FOURTH. PART II. 175 Act I, 1, 200-209, Morton says to Northumberland, But now the bishop Turns insurrection to relijjion : And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stojies ; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ; Tells them he doth hestride a bleeding land, Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke. It lias been thought by some more likely that the Archbishop refers to the death of his own brother, Lord Scroop — '1 Henry IV,' 1, 3 — and that Westmoreland would most certainly have so under- stood him ; but it should be borne in mind, that, however much the Archbishop might desire to revenge his brother's death, he could not decently proclaim that to the public ear as the cause of his uprising ; it would be more politic to dissemble his private wrongs, to smother his personal resentment; but the safety of the state, the cruel treatment of the King — these were more specious pretexts. And that this was the Archbishop's meaning is evident from Morton's account of the Ai'chbishop's public manifesto, as given in the passage I have just quoted. Nor am I here 'catching at shadows of resemblance.' ^ 176 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE; KING HENEY THE FIFTH. The first passage that I shall notice in 'King- Henry the Fifth' consists of a couple of lines in the second Scene of the first Act, at the end of a long and learned dissertation delivered by the Archbishop of Canterbury, in support of his thesis that the King of England could rightfully claim the crown of France : Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law To bar your highness claiming from the female. And rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to imbar their crooked titles Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. The puzzle here is to find a meaning for the verb 'imbar' — spelt 'imbarre' in the Folio — which the word will bear, and which the passage seems to require. It may help to clear the way some- what, and be of advantage to us, if we explain in the first instance wliat is meant by the French hiding them in a net. The Archbishop argues that, in their eagerness to vitiate King Henry's title, the French had lilKG HEls'EY THE FIFTH^ 17? hunted up an old law, called the Salique law, which excluded from the succession all those who claimed, as the English King did, from the female. This law, according to the Archbishop, did not touch the question at all, as the Salian land was a distinct configuration from the French land. He supposes, however, that it were otherwise, that the lands were one and the same, and that the law was applicable, and he proceeds to show that the effect of it would be to vitiate the title not of the English King only, but of a large number of the French Kings as well — the reigning Monarch among the number — forasmuch as they held in right and title of the female. It was in this way, then, that the French had hidden them in a net ; they had taken shelter in a law in the meshes of which they themselves had been caught. And this they had chosen to do rather Than amply to irabar their crooked titles. These words, it is obvious, must be antithetical to those which immediately precede them. What- ever be their meaning, of this we may be sure, that the sum and substance of the Archbishop's counsel to the French must be that they should have done with their artful chicanery, and submit to have the question decided in a fair and straight- forward manner according to the recognised law of succession. Now supposing that 'amply' con- tains the idea of large and handsome dealings 5, 9 178 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. which is pretty much the sense that it bears in the phrases, 'ample amends,' 'ample security,' the spirit indicated by it will be dh-ectly opposed to the sly trickery attributed to the French in the previous line ; and, if ' imbar ' may be allowed to mean, what Mr. Knight informs us that an anonymous expositor declares that it may mean, * to bring to the bar of judgment,' we have already a sense which fulfils the antithesis which the passage requires. As, however, there is no instance, that I know of, of 'imbar' ever having been used in this sense, and as I am by no means sanguine that it can be so used, I venture to offer another, and, unless I am mistaken, a better explanation. I shall assume that 'imbai' is used here in pretty nearly the same sense as the simple verb 'bar,' just as *pawn' and 'impawn,' 'paint' and 'impaint' are used elsewhere almost indifferently. When, then, it is said that the French did not choose to imbar their crooked titles, it is merely another way of saying — it is an abridged and perfectly allowable way of saying — that they did not choose to rest on a law ivhich ivould imbar those titles ; what would be done by the law, is said to be done by themselves — a well-kno\vn figure of speech, which, though it has embarrassed all the expositors, would be quite intelligible to the learned congregation which the Archbishop was at the time addressing. Thus interpreted, the two lines stand in capital anti- thetical relation to each other. This mode of KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 179 dealing with the passage is surely better than to entertain such a word as 'imbare,' or to read, as Pope wished to do, 'openly to embrace' in lieu of 'amply to imbar.' Were there room for con- jecture, I would far rather shape out something from the Quai'to's word 'imbrace,' and regard it as a corruption of 'abase,' so as to make the Archbishop say, that the handsome thing for the French to have done would have been to lower their pretensions — to ahase their crooked titles, or rather to erase them altogether. But I hold fast to the explanation which I have given above, as, upon the whole, a fair solution of a problem which is by no means free from difficulty. A little further on, in the same Act and Scene, we find Westmoreland and Exeter urging the King to proclaim the war, which the Archbishop had declared to be lawful. Exeter having said Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself As did the former lions of your blood, Westmoreland continues — 125, 27 — They know your grace hath cause and means and might ; So hath your highness — never king of England Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects. The usual mode of pointing these last lines is to put a semicolon after 'highness,' the effect of which is to emphasize 'hath,' which consequently would have for its object the nouns 'cause and 180 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. means and might' miderstood from the preceding line. I have punctuated differently, and I construe and interpret differently. I place a hyphen rather than a semicolon after * highness,' and consider that Westmoreland, having either intended to say, or made a feint of intending to say, ' so hath your highness rich nobles and loyal subjects,' suddenly breaks off, as not satisfied with that mode of expressing himself, or as having been struck with a more appropriate and felicitous one ; anyhow, this breaking off of his, whether a courtly ruse or not, rivets the attention more than ever to what he is going to say of the King, whom with exquisite adulation, the more telling because seemingly un- premeditated, he pinnacles above all the monarchs who had preceded him. Grammatically, then, 'hath' borrows for its object 'rich nobles and loyal subjects' from the sentence which follows; dramatically, it has no object; the finishing stroke is given in a fresh and finer combination. This view of the passage, though quite tenable, and eminently Shakespearian, is yet so different from that which is ordinarily taken, that I shall make no apology for introducing here a few examples, taken from other plays, which may serve to illustrate and confirm what seems at first sight a very improbable interpretation. Thus in this very play we have, Act I, 1, 3, My lord, I'll tell you ; that self bill is urged, Which in the eleventh year of the last king's reign Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd ; KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 181 where the full expression would have been ' was like to have passed ' ; ' Eichard II,' Act V, 5, 27, Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, That many have and others must sit there ; that is, *many have sat, and others must sit'; * Troilus and Cressida,' Act I, 3, 288-89, And may that soldier a mere recreant prove, That means not, hath not, or is not in love ; i.e. * means not to be, hath not been, or is not'; 'All's Well That End's Well,' Act II, 5, 51-52, I have spoken better of you than you have or -will to deserve at my hand, which is equivalent to ' better than you have deserved.' Eeserving for future notice a much more startling illustration, I shall merely add here, that, although the examples which I have given do not of course prove conclusively that my mode of stopping and explaining the passage is the right one, they go to show that it is not repugnant to Shakespeare's usage — that it is possible — I go farther and say, that it is not only probable, but preferable to any other. A word, which occurs in a speech of King Hemy's in the same Act and Scene, lines 273-75, must next be considered. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king and show my sail of greatness. When I do rouse me in my throne of France. 182 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. *Sayle' is the exact word which is found in the first, second, and third Fohos, for which some have desired to write 'soul,' which they think was certainly Shakespeare's word, and much more appropriate. The conjecture is plausible ; the change insignificant ; the sense yielded unex- ceptionable; yet, if emendation is to be thought of, there is another word, which may fairly be put in to compete for the place. The Dauphin, having taunted the English King with low tastes and mean ambition, the latter might not inaptly bid tell the Dauphin that he would be Like a king, and show his zeal of greatness. This change, though at first sight it seems con- siderable, is in reality hardly a change at all. The letter s is continually sounded like z, and z like s; ea was more often pronounced like long a in Shakes- peare's time than it is in our own; ^meat' was 'mate,' and in ' King Henry ^VIII,' Act III, 1, 9-10, 'sea' rhymes to 'play,' Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea ; We may be pretty sure, then, that 'zeal' was pronounced like the French zele, and probably by not a few exactly like ' sail ' ; the error once written was little likely to be challenged, when so many other more serious ones escaped detection. I have so far humoured the suspicions of the critics, as to notice a plausible conjecture, and to KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 183 suggest another possible one; but I am not dis- posed in this particular instance to part with the litera scripta of the copies for the guess-word of any emendator. That nautical phraseology should be current among an island people, at a time when nautical enterprise was enormously stimulated by startling discoveries and dashing sea-fights which yielded rich prizes, needs surprise no one. The gallant and glorious deeds of naval heroes, which were talked of in the streets, were glanced at in the theatres, and were received with great gladness and enthusiastic clappings ; hits of this kind Shakespeare well knew how to make ; ' sail ' he uses in two senses — in the more limited one as part of a ship's tackle, and in its larger signification of a ship's course. In the latter sense it occurs in 'King John, Act Y, 7,53,' And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail. Are turned to one thread, one little hair ; * Othello,' Act V, 2, 268, And very sea-mark of your utmost sail ; Sonnet, The proud full sail of his great verse. According to this sense of it, the king would intimate that, though France might be to him a sea of trouble, and its horizon might lour with tempests, yet he would sail on his course day by day, and give proof of that greatness, for his supposed lack of which the Dauphin had taunted 184 HARD- KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. him. If, however, the other meanmg of 'sail' bo thought preferable, we can abundantly illustrate it by such passages as follow: 2 'Henry IV,' Act V, 2, 17-18, How many nobles then should hold their places,. That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort 1 3 ' Henry VI,' Act III, 3, 5, No, mighty King of France : now Margaret Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve. 3'Henry VI,' ActV, 1, 52, I had rather chop this hand ofi" at a blow. And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee. I conclude, then, that 'saz7,' authorized as I believe it to be by the Folios, should on no account be discarded. As little reason is there for swerving from the track of the Folios in Act II, 2, 138-40, where the King, upbraiding Lord Scroop with his ingratitude and treachery, says And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot To make the full-fraught man and best indued With some suspicion. Place a comma, nay, only conceive a comma placed after 'man,' and another after 'best,' and, where is the difficulty ? What possibility is there of mistaking either the construction or the meaning? That Pope should have abstained from meddling is groof enough of itself that Theobald's proposed. KING HENRY THE FIFTH, 185 change of 'make' to 'mark' is quite mmecessary; yet even when Theobald shps many follow. It has been deemed incredible that in Act III, 3^ 35, where the King warns the citizens of Harfleui- of the teriible consequences that would ensue, if they rejected his proffered mercy, Shakespeare could have written look to see The blmd and bloody soldier with foul hand Desire the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters. "Wliat ! nothing more terrible than * desire ' from an infuriated soldiery, let loose, like so many hell- hounds, on a stormed city! Eowe was the first to throw a little more devilry into the text by changing 'desire' into 'defile.' Carried away by the unanimity with which all the critics condemned 'desire,' yet not quite satisfied with Eowe's con- jecture, I at one time cast about for something better, and, remembering that, when a messenger brought ill-tidings to Cleopatra, the ungovernable passion of the Egyptian Queen vented itself in the ferocious threat — the unparalleled expression — ' I'll unhair your head ' — I ventured to ask myself whether here too a special word might not have been coined for a special occasion — a word without a parallel — a horrible compound — the word 'dishair,' the faint echo of which I fancied I caught in 'desire'; but, after further consideration I have come to the con- clusion that the word, which we have, may possibly 186 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. be the word that Shakespeare wrote. 'To desire with the hand' — what is it but to stretch out the hand for, to lust to seize a booty, ahnost within reach, but not yet actually grasped. 'To defile with the hand' is to have the booty ' already in their filthy grasp. The one is a picture of the virgins flying with shrill shrieks from their bloody pursuers, who with outstretched hands are eager to seize their flowing locks; the other is a picture of them already in the hands of the ruffian soldiers. Both are equally picturesque — equally terrible. Perhaps the former is more delicately touched and more exquisitely wrought; the latter is certainly ruder and more masterly; in spite of the savagery of the scene depicted, it is not impossible that the artist-poet may have given expression here to the former. There is a fine passage in the 4th Act, beginning at the 257th line of the first Scene, where the King, soliloquizing on the vanity of kingly greatness, addresses ceremony as a living personal entity, and questions her as to who, or what she was, and why such extraordinary value was set upon her, such extraordinary worship was paid to her. 'Place, degree, and form' he could conceive her as being, but he exclaims, What are thy rents ? what are thy comings in ? ceremony, show me but thy worth ! What is thy soul of adoration ? KING HENEY THE FIFTH. 187 It is the last line which has a mark set against it by the ' Globe ' editors, and I have printed it as they have, disregarding the note of interrogation after 'what,' and also 'Odoration' — which is merely a copyist's mode of spelling 'adoration' — both of which disfigure the first Folio. Now if adoration had been something more than an attitude — a gesture ; if it had been something capable of being apprehended and appraised, the royal querist might have said simply ' what is the adoration that is accorded to thee'? But, inasmuch as he craves for something more than an empty name or idle motion, inasmuch as he labours to get at the heart of the matter and to find out something definite and precise about her, he does not put it so, but he says 'What is the soul of the adoration that is paid thee, which can be said to be truly thine?' What is there which is, and not merely appears? which has a real and sterling, and not merely an ideal and nominal value ? which is constant and abiding, not ephemeral and fleeting? W^hat is there w^hich has a principle of vitality, and is no mere cold dead form? He seeks, in a word, to find the soul, and refuses to be mocked with a fine fantastic shape. As a soul is attributed to adoration here, so elsewhere to joy, beauty, goodness. 188 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE, KING HENRY THE SIXTH, Part I. There is very little indeed that requires special comment from me in any one of the three parts of 'King Henry The Sixth'; what revision has been necessary, and at the same time possible, has been fairly accomplished by the assiduous industry of successive critics. Yet in Act I, 1, 56, there is still a line left unfinished, a word wanting, a gap in the text to be filled; and, although it is of course impossible to say for certain, what the word was that originally completed both the metre and the sense, in this instance we happen to have a better chance than usual of making a lucky guess, as we are circumscribed in our selection by three considerations. Li the first place, the word must be a proper name ; in the second place, it must be such as the metre will admit; in the third place, it must be recommended by historic fitness. We have to discover, if we can, in the vast expanse of the political horizon a soul-star KING HENRY THE SIXTH. PART I. 189 tiiat may shine by the side of the Julium sidus. The brilHancy of Charlemagne's career has been thought by some to entitle him to the place, and 'great Charlemain' actually occurs in 'All's Well That End's Well.' I give the preference to Con- stantino, whom Gibbon— and his testimony in this instance is above suspicion — has not hesitated to pronounce 'great.' Like Caesar, Constantino was famous for military activity and successful achievement ; both triumphed over domestic rivals and a barbarian foe; both founded a dynasty and an empire ; both were exalted to divine honours in a pagan, and Constantino in a Christian heaven as well. In this very play — Act I, 2, 142 — the name of Constantino figures conspicuously : Helen, the mother of ^rm^ Co?istantine, Nor yet St. Philip's daughters were like thee, Bright star of Yeuus, fallen down to the earth. If, therefore, as I think probable, Shakespeare completed the line, the Duke of Bedford may well have been made to couple together the two great luminaries of the Eastern and the Western world, of Byzantium and of Eome. It is a matter of infinitesimally small consequence, whether, in the 62nd line of this same Act and Scene, the note of interrogation stands at the end of the line, or in the middle of it, although I confess I have a decided preference for What say'st thou, man ? Before dead Henry's corse Speak softly, &c. 190 HAKD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. but it is not a matter of small consequence, how we place the stops — I am now taking a long jump — in Act IV, 6, 42-47. By substituting a note of exclamation for the ordinary comma, I venture to think that I not only simplify a somewhat com- plicated sentence, but I give clearness to the meaning, and throw spirit and fire into a soldier's utterance. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart ; These words of yours draw Hfe-blood from my heart : On that advantage, bought with such a shame, To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame I Before young Talbot fi-om old Talbot fly, The coward horse that bears me fall and die ! A sentiment and a spirit worthy of the gallant son of a gallant sire! The infinitives, 'to save,' 'to slay,' like Virgil's Mene incepto desistere victam ! are infinitives of indignant remonstrance ! That Shakespeare well knew how to turn them to account, the following examples will show, Louis marry Blanche ! Thou wear a lion's hide ! This lord go to him ! She, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, everything. To fall in love with what she feared to look on ! I add to the list the words that were spoken by young John Talbot. KING HENEY THE SIXTH. — PART I. 191 We might read the 70th and 71st Hues of Act V, Scene 3, without being in the least aware that we had come to a part of the play, which had exercised the ingenuity of commentators, but a glance at the foot-notes in the Cambridge Shakes- peare shows us that, where the copies have Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough, even Capell would have altered to 'makes the senses crouch,' Collier to 'mocks the sense of touch,' another to 'wakes the sense's touch,' and generally editors seem to be under the impression that the fag end of the line is faulty. But the fault lies with the would-be emendators; Shakes- peare knew well what he was about, when he set down what the copies ascribe to him. There is. an allusion to the confusion and awkwardness, the rudeness and want of self-possession, which are occasionally observed in some — not usually so affected — when they are ushered into the presence of some great personage, or confronted by the gaze of some world-famed beauty. The following quota- tions may be read with advantage. 'As You Like It,' Act I, 2, 269, What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue ? 1 cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. 'Merchant of Venice,' Act III, 2 177, Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; And there is such confusion in my powers, As, after some oration, &c. 192 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE, Compare also 'Midsummer-Niglit's Dream,' Act V, 1, 93. A little below in the 193rd line the first Folio reads 'mad natural graces,' which editors have changed to 'And natural graces'; possibly Shakes- peare wrote Maid-nsiinvdX graces that extinguish art, a compound formed after the analogy of 'maid-pale,' which is found elsewhere. I shall only add that in Shakespeare's versification * contrary ' may be pronounced in the time of either a trisyllable or a quadrisyllable, and the quantity of its penultimate is sometimes long, sometimes short. The reader, then, may scan the 64th line of Act V, Scene 6, Whereas the contrary bringeth bhss, as he likes, provided he is content to let it alone. KING HENRY THE SIXTH. PART II. 19B KING HENRY THE SIXTH. Part II. I pass on to the second Part of ' King Henry The Sixth,' where critics might have saved themselves the tronble of trying to mend the metre in Act I, 3, 153, She's tickled now ; her fume needs no spurs, if they had recollected that ' tickle ' in particular, and words of similar termination generally, are re- peatedly used by Shakespeare as trisyllables, so that all corrections here are nugatory. But in Act II, 1, 26, where Gloucester says to the Cardinal, Churchmen so hot ! Good uncle, hide such malice ; With such holiness can you do it. a word of comment is not ovit of place; a full stop at the end of the last line is right, a note of interrogation wrong. For Gloucester does not so much twit the Cardinal for inconsistency, as he sneers at him for his hypocrisy, as though it M 10 194 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. were easy for him to use his holiness as a cloak of his malice ; and he distinctly intimates that the Cardinal would have no compunction in so using it. Let the learned critics rail at the little phrase * do it ' as much as they will, it is one that is used so repeatedly in conversation in the great theatre of the world, that it is surprising that any should doubt the probability, or question the propriety, of its being used in the course of a dialogue in the tiny theatre in which ' King Henry the Sixth ' was acted. The critics are too crotchety. I grant that the line seems to halt, but the slow deliberate measured way, the peculiar tone of voice, with which this stinging insult would be conveyed, may account for its shortness, and make it quite equal in length to one of ordinary measure. There is one more passage in this Second Part, on which I am anxious to say a word : it is in Act IV, 10, 56, where Alexander Iden is represented as saying to Cade, Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ; My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ; And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears. The difficulty is confined to the last two lines, and is partly of a textual, partly of an interpretative charac- ter. As touching the text, I bold it to be so certain KING HENRY THE SIXTH. — PART IK 195 that the pronoun ' thy ' has been omitted by the merest accident in the last Hne but one — do not the *thy,' 'thy,' 'thou,' 'thy,' of the previous hues sound in the reader's ear, and cry for the repetition ? — that I marvel that it has not occurred to the commen- tators, and been installed in its rightful position in the text ; specially as in the ' Tempest,' Act I, 2, 58, they have not hesitated to introduce 'thou,' on the authority of Steevens, in order to complete the sense and perfect the metre. I assume, then, that the lines should be printed As for thy words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears, and I proceed in the next place to show in what way the couplet should be interpreted. Surely he is a bad interpreter who would refer * whose ' to 'words ;' it should be referred to ' combatants.' The following paraphrase will illustrate both the construction and the meaning. ' As for thy words, which of the two's greatness, mine or thine, corresponds to, or matches, words, let this my sword report; for with my tongue I would fain not utter it.' Blows, not boasts, suit Alexander Iden best. Of the use of ' whose ' in this way we have not a bad example in another part of this very play, And poise the cause in justice' equal scales, "Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. For the sentiment we may go to 'Macbeth,' Act V, 8, 7, I have no words : My voice is in my sword ; 196 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. and ' Cymbeline,' Act IV, 2, 78, Have not I An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not My dagger in my mouth. KING HENRY THE SIXTH. — PART III. 197 KING HENRY THE SIXTH. Part III. I have considerable misgivings, whether I ought to write a single word on the one only portion of the Third Part of ' King Henry the Sixth, ' which seems to provoke the pen of the speculative critic — I allude to Act I, 4, 162-53, That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stainM with blood, for such is the reading of the passage in an edition, which, though for convenience and uniformity's sake it is called by the Cambridge editors a Quarto, is, they tell us, in point of fact an Octavo, There is no fault to be found with the lines either in respect of metre, rhythm, or sense : cannibals would not have hurt, much less slain, the fair-faced boy. But there are suspicious circumstances connected with them, which ought to be fairly met and debated. In the first place, they are arranged in the first Folio in three lines instead of in two : That face of his The liungry cannibals would not have touch'd. Would not have etain'd with blood ; 198 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. a discrepancy this, which would not be worth noting, were it not that in the second, third, and fourth Fohos, wdiich are usually no more than reproductions of the first, or of each other, with just occasional variations, there is a variation, which is not slight or immaterial, but considerable and important ; there is, in fact, a distinct addition to the text, "Would not have stain'd the roses just with blood — not fresh wm-ds merely, but a fresh idea; and that too, where there seemed neither room nor reason, so far as metre and meaning were concerned, for any inno- vation whatever — the fresh idea, too, has a poetic colour, and is full of Shakespearian fragrance ; for I am struck with such passages as ' Measure for Measure,' Act I, 4, 16, Those cheek-roses ; * I Henry VI,' Act II, 4, 49-62, Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses ; * Richard III,' Act IV, 3, 12, Their lips were four red roses on a stalk ; ' Titus Andronicus,' Act II, 4, 24, Thy rosed lips ; * Romeo and Juliet,' Act IV, 1, 99, The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade ; not to mention many others. Be it observed, too, that the added words are not, like most interpolations, ill-chosen and ill-placed ; they are particularly KING HENRY THE SIXTH. — PART III. 199 appropriate as applied to young Rutland. Whence, then, came these words originally ? Did the copyist turn poet for the nonce, and set them down in the exuberance of a playful fancy ? I do not believe that this is the true account of them ; my belief is that they were Shakespeare's own, and were originally interwoven with the text, but were either discarded by him some time or other when he revised the play, and were re-inserted by a copyist in the later Folios, or (which I think much more probable) they were discarded by the copyist, or by the editors of the first Folio, because they could not decipher and under- stand them, though they managed to keep their place in the later impressions. Now, if this theory is correct, the words ought not to be relegated any longer to a footnote, but should be reinstated in their rightful position in the text. But what, it will be asked, is ' roses just with blood ?' I had long ago conjectured, what long long before me Theobald had conjectured, that 'just' was merely another way of spelling 'juiced.' ' Juiced with blood ' is a partici- pial enlargement of 'roses,' and is both forcible and fitting. Understand ' blood ' in its natural sense, and it marks the distinction between the vegetable and the human flower; make ' blood ' refer to the life-juice of the flower (just as in ' Eichard II,' Act III, 4, 69, it is applied in common with the sap to the life-juice of trees), and it is a fine dash of colour pour- traying to the life the fresh and beautiful complexion of the rosy-faced boy. Where cannibals are mentioned, 200 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. the mention of blood is specially significant. Blood might have tempted them, but beauty deterred them. A cannibal would have spared, a Clifford did not. The lines, then, with the added words in them, will stand thus, That face of his The hungry cannibals would not have touch'd. Would not have stain'd the roses juiced with blood. It is just possible, however, that the words ' would not have stained,' coming immediately after ' would not have touch'd,' are merely a commentator's gloss, and have been interpolated, and that the lines origin- ally stood thus, That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, the roses juiced with blood, where there would be two objects, the one introduc- tory and general, the other descriptive and particular, or the latter simply standing in apposition to the former. Thus much for young Rutland : in the language of Chaucer, He was so fair and bright of hue, He seemed like a rose new Of colour, and in flesh so tender. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 201 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. The tragedy of 'King Richard the Third ' has come down to us singularly free from mutilation and cor- ruption. It is true that the Cambridge editors tell us in their preface, "that the respective origin and " authority of the Quarto and the Folio is perhaps the " most difficult question which presents itself to the " editor of Shakespeare; that the Quarto contains pas- " sages which are not in the Folio, and vice versa ; and " that passages, which in the Quarto are complete and *' consecutive, are amplified in the Folio, evidently " by Shakespeare ;" yet one thing is incontestable — they have not found it necessary to brand wdth their usual obelus a single line or word throughout the play. Such being the case, I have asked myself, whether there could possibly be any portion of it, which needed comment from me ; for the reader would not thank me for starting minute or imaginary questions, such, for instance, as wiiether, in Act I, 2, 64-66, ' heaven ' should be regarded as a nominative, or vocative case; or whether, in the 101st line of the same Scene, we should read Didst thou not kill this king ? Glou. I grant it ye. Anne. Dost grant 't me, hedgehog ? Then, God grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed. 202 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE, To no purpose should I plead in the former case, that, two ways being possible, one must be preferable ; in the latter, that the addition of the pronoun, which might have been accidentally omitted, would not impair the force of the dialogue, and might even improve the metre ; the reader would turn with con- tempt from such paltry speculative minutiae, and would tell me, that I was making mountains of mole- hills, or even myself raising the mole-hill. Yet I am bold to say that the following passage in the third Scene of the first Act, lines 62-69, deserves just a passing notice, not that there can be any question either as to the reading or as to the meaning, but simply because of the very peculiar relation in which a nominative case stands to its verb : Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. The king, of his own royal disposition, And not provoked by any suitor else ; Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred. Which in your outward actions shows itself Against my kindred, brothers, and myself. Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather The ground of your ill-will, and to remove it. Here the ostensible nominative of the verb ' makes '^ is undoubtedly the noun ' king,' but the real nomina- tive is rather the disposition and aim of the king, as expressed in a number of consecutive clauses — it was this, which 'made him to send.' The confusion which we trace here might reasonably be attributed to the shock which the Queen felt owing to Glouces- KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 203 ter's furious upbraidings ; but I will rather explain it as one of those iiTegularities, which occasionally occur in sentences over-long drawn out, and which are suffered to pass, w^hen, as in the present case, there can be no possibility of the meaning being misunderstood. We have a passage somewhat resembling it in the very next play, — ' King Henry the Eighth,' Act I, 1, 59-62— which, for the sake of comparison, I may very well by anticipation intro- duce here. For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied To eminent assistants ; but, spider-like. Out of his self-drawing *web, 0, gives us note. The force of his own merit makes his way. Here the subject of the verb ' gives ' is not the pronoun * he,' which the ' Globe ' editors have unwarrantably forced into the text to the exclusion of the interjection ' 0,' nor is it any noun or pronoun understood, but a succession of participial and other clauses contained in the four and a half lines preced- ing, which, taken together, form a sort of cumulative nominative. But, to revert to the passage from ' King Richard ni,' in the last line I have written 'and to remove it,' which I believe is the reading of the copies, rather than 'and so remove it,' which is a gloss of the *The first Folio has ' web. O gives us note ' 204 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. editors. Whether you explain the construction as a change from a final adverbial clause to a final infini- tive phrase, or (which I think more probable) as another instance, to be added to the many which I have mentioned in my notes on 'Measure for Measure,' of the sign (to) of the infinitive being inserted before the infinitive in consequence of the remoteness of the auxiliary (may) on which the infinitive depends — however you explain it, there is no necessity, there is no justification, for making any alteration. ' So ' may be our idiom ; but ' to ' was tolerated by Shakespeare's contemporaries. In this same Act and Scene — Act I, 3 — there are two passages, where curiously enough the stops, at least in my opinion, should be the very reverse of what they are in the ^lobe ' edition ; in the one case, we do not want a note of exclamation, yet we have one; in the other, we want one, but we have it not. For in the 113th line Gloucester does ■ not so much express surprise at Queen Elizabeth's threatening him, as he resents the very idea of it, as if he were likely to be taken aback by anything that she could say, or the King could do : What threat you me with telling of the King ? he asks indignantly and defiantly, rather than What ! threat you me with telling of the King ? On the other hand, in the 188th line, where Queen Margaret expresses astonishment that her political KING RICHAED THE THIRD. 205 enemies should turn so soon from snarling at each other to join, one and all, in setting upon her, the punctuation should be What ! were you snarling all before I came ? and not What were you snarling all before I came ? There is a very peculiar expression in Act III, 3, 23, in a line spoken by Katcliff, Make haste ; the hour of death is expiate, which must be tantamount to what he had said a few lines before, ^the limit of your lives is out'; yet no parallel can be found for it in Shakespeare, unless it be in 'Sonnet XXII': Then look I death my days should expiate. In Act V, 8, 173, a difficulty has been made of the words 'I died for hope,' but it hardly deserves to be called a difficulty. There are several ways in which the sentence might be explained, as the preposition 'for' has a wide grammatical scope. In a Henry VI,' Act I, 1, 85, 'I'll fight for France ' means 'I'll fight to win it,' and so 'I died for hope' might mean 'I died while fighting to sustain it.' In 'Macbeth' 'dead for breath,' and in 'As You Like It' 'I die for food,' mean in each instance for the want of it; and so Buckingham might say he died, all hope of rescue having been lost. But there is yet another mode of construing the sentence, to which I am inclined to give the preference. The 206 EAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. ambiguity of the expression arises from its concise- ness. The principal sentence is left incomplete, because, in the subordinate clause which follows, are words which, when applied with the proper grammatical construction to the principal sentence, capitally complete it. It might not be too prolix for a prose-writer to say, 'I died for hope of lending thee aid, ere I could lend it thee,' but Shakespeai'e, who rejoices in brevity, writes simply I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid. A prcEgnans locutio: what we lose in clearness, is more than made up to us in strength and spirit. I have given examples of this Shakespearian pecu- liarity elsewhere; so I need not tire any with the repetition here. At the very end of the play — Act V, 5, 27-28 — there seems to be a little doubt among the critics as to what the stops, and consequently what the sense should be. In the 'Globe' edition the passage is thus set down: England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself ; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son. The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire : All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided in their dire division, 0, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house. By God's fair ordinance conjoin together ! KING RICHAED THE THIRD. 207 Mr. Grant White was of opinion that a full stop should be placed after 'Lancaster,' and the line, * Divided in their dire division,' should be taken with 'Eichmond and Elizabeth.' I am sure I am right, when I prefer to point thus : All this divided York and Lancaster Divided in their dire division ? The first 'divided' is a participle, the second a finite verb; the siihject of the verb 'divided' is York and Lancaster'; the object dependent upon it is 'all this.' 'York and Lancaster, who were divided, divided in their dire division all this'; or, 'in their division caused all this division.' And what is meant by -'all this'? Plainly what has been just before lamentably described — brother being divided against brother, father against son, son against father. 208 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. I have already explained why I do not think it necessary to strike out the interjection '0' from the 63rd line of the first Act and first Scene of *King Henry The Eighth,' merely to make room for a nominative case to the verb 'gives'; I shall now state why I do not think it right to brand the 80th line of the same Act and Scene, where Buckingham thus gives vent to his indignation and disgust at Wolsey's high-handed dealing on the occasion of the King's visit to the French court: He makes up the file Of all the gentry ; for the most part such To whom as great a charge as little honour He meant to lay upon : and his own letter. The honourable board of council out. Must fetch him in he papers. Buckingham charges Wolsey with having, at times when the Council were not sitting, or at any rate without consulting them and obtaining their concurrence, issued his mandates in writing, appointing to the ruinous honour of attending the KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, 209 King any whom he chose to prick down on his list, or, as Buckingham scornfully expresses it, to * paper.' The language is too informal and simple, too homely and common, to please some scholars ; yet it is old fashioned and Elizabethan, it is not unclerkly couched, it admirably expresses the un- guarded impromptu outpourings, in familiar and confidential intercourse, of Buckingham's scornful heart. 'Paper,' a noun metamorphosed to a verb, is a special word for a special occasion ; it is neither a Shakespearian impossibility, nor a linguistic one, and may be included by us without scruple in a vocabulary of Shakespeare's verbs formed from nouns. Some words spoken by Brandon — the officer who came to arrest Buckingham — in the 204th and following lines I shall next notice. I am sorry To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on The business present : tis his highness' pleasure You shall to the Tower. Such is the ordinary pointing; but should not a semicolon rather be placed after ' liberty,' and a comma after ' present,' and the infinitive phrase * to look on the business present ' be connected, not with the words that go before, but with those that come after ? It was no part of Brandon's business to waste time in discussing, or hearing others discuss, how Buckingham had fallen under the King's displeasure, but to execute his com- N 11 210 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. mands, and dispatch a disagreeable duty with as much dehcacy as he could ; after expressing, there- fore, his regret that he should have to be an eye- witness of such a scene, he gently reminds them of the object of his coming, of the 'present business,' which it behoved both himself and them to keep an eye on, and attend to. The business was that Buckingham should go to the Tower. It was only after I had roughly sketched "my views of these two passages, that I was informed that Singer had similarly explained the first, and Mr. Collier the last. The agreement — as Gibbon neatly expresses it — without mutual communication, may add some weight to our common sentiment. The closing lines of the Scene, which are inex- pressibly beautiful, are in Buckingham's more subdued manner, and finely contrast with the stout words previously spoken by him : My surveyor is false ; the o'er-great cardinal Hath show'd him gold ; my life is spann'd already ; I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell. 'Figure' is, of course, the subject of the verb 'puts.' 'By darkening' should perhaps be taken not as two words, but as one compounded one; the same prefix is used by Shakespeare in 'by-peeping' and * by-dependency.' Buckingham explains that he is no longer the man that he was ; he is but a shadow of his former self; his figure, which but a KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 211 moment before had been so conspicuous, at the very instant of his speaking is enveloped in a cloud, which throws into utter darkness his clear sun; he, who but now was the brightest in the political firmament, is now so totally eclipsed, that he is no longer even to be seen ; a cloud had folded up his bright outshining beams. Surely com- mentators have perplexed themselves here with a passage that is sufficiently clear. There is nothing now to interrupt our progress, till we come to the 92nd and following lines of Act II, Scene 2. All the Clerks, I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms Have their free voices — Eome, the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius ; Whom once more I present unto your highness. I have placed a hyphen after * voices ' rather than a colon, in order to indicate that the sentence is unfinished ; the participle that should complete it is to be found in the sentence that follows. In my notes on ' King Henry the Fifth ' I have quoted several passages to show, how fond Shakespeare is of this elliptic form of expression, which is sometimes used for conciseness' sake, but sometimes also for dramatic effect. Here it may serve both purposes. The Cardinal curtly and cursorily mentions the opinions of the learned clerks of Christendom, as 212 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. knowing that the King would hsten to that branch of the subject with comparatively languid interest, and that theji had neither authority nor power to bind or to loose ; with courtly expedition and tact he pro- ceeds to that other branch of the subject, which the King might well be represented as straining to hear with impatient eagerness ; it was only the Pope of Rome, who, in the estimation at any rate of Wolsey and the world, could settle the knotty question, whether the I^ng were only a Bachelor after having lived upwards of twenty years in a state of supposed matrimony, or whether, if he contracted a second marriage, he should rather be called a bigamist ; accordingly, without any curtailment, with all cir- cumstance and ceremony, and with much compla- cency of tone and manner, the Cardinal presents the Pope's plenipotentiary, Cardinal Campeius. In the next Scene — Act II, 3, 46 — an old lady is introduced, rallying Anne Bullen for her mock modesty in being shocked at the very idea of being matched in marriage with a king. The two ladies thus prettily spar with each other : Anne. How you do talk ! I swear again I would not be a queen For all the world. Old L. In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing : I myself Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd No more to the crown but that. Now what, according to the Old Lady, would Anne venture for even such a small portion of the world as KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 213 little England ? and what does she say that she her- self would venture even for such a small strip as Carnarvonshii-e ? ' An emballing,' says the text, but what is an ' embaUing ? ' Some have supposed — for I make no account of numerous conjectures that have been started — that, instead of repeating the phrase, ' to be a queen,' she uses a word, which from the custom of carrying the ball in procession at corona- tions, alluded to in ' King Henry V,' Act IV, 1, 277, is in reality equivalent to it, and that, under cover of this word, she hints at a matrimonial, or at any rate a concubinal consequence, which every woman would instinctively understand. I do not quite agree with this view of the passage. I feel sure that the Old Lady used the word with a concubinal reference only — that she reiterates, in fact, what she had already said in the 25th line, which line in my opinion clenches the matter. There is not a little harmless satire in her use of the word ' venture ' ; whether in 'emballing' a pun— an execrable one — were intended on Anne Bullens own name, I need not discuss ; but the Old Lady was quite capable of it. In Act III, 3, 2, 62-71, should the answer to Norfolk's question be, 'He is return'd,' or 'He is return'd in his opinions ? ' The latter phrase is cer- tainly most peculiar — most unusual ; there is nothing like it, that I can recollect, in the whole range of Shakespeare. It is true that the Folios so punctuate, but the punctuation of the Folios, we are assured by those who have had good opportunities of 214 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. judging, is as likely to lead us wrong as right ; we need not, therefore, be solicitous to enquire, how the Folios point, but rather which of the two modes of pointing is most consistent with Shakespeare's general style — which suits the passage best. In my opinion ' he is return'd ' is simple, natural, Shakespearian. The words that follow describe the political conse- quences, or at any rate the future policy. Suffolk says that in virtue of, in accordance with, on the strength of, Cranmer's opinions, which have satisfied the King, and not the King only, but all the learned men of Christendom, the Queen is shortly to be divorced, and a new Queen installed in her stead. According to this interpretation the punctuation of the passage will have to be revised, and this is my revision of it. Nor : But, my lord. When returns Cranmer ? Suf: He is return'd ; in his opinions, which Have satisfied the King for his divorce Together with all famous colleges Almost in Christendom, shortly, I believe. His second marriage shall be publish'd, and Her coronation ; Katherine no more Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager And widow to Prince Arthur. I have already had occasion to observe how fond Shakespeare is of condensing his matter, but I know of no more remarkable instance, at least so far as the KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 215 syntax is concerned, than we have in Act III, 2, 190-92 of this play : I do profess That for your highness' good I ever labour'd More than mine own ; that am, have, and will be. No wonder that the grammarians stare with astonish- ment ; no wonder that the text-doctors shake their heads, and refuse to see anything here but a shattered text. Yet have we here not so much dead stuff cum- bering the hne, but a skeletonized sentence, or rather a succession of skeletonized sentences, wherein we can yet recognise living specimens of the poet's creation. If we consider, who is the speaker, and what were the circumstances under which he spake, we shall be able to account for the obscurity, and grope out a tolerable meaning. The speaker was Wolsey. Who more able than he to express in clear and vigorous language the con- ceptions of his soul ? yet, like Tiberius, like Talley- rand, he could, when it served his purpose, hide by his words the secret counsels of his heart. It was a critical moment this for the Cardinal. Already he had asked himself, ' What should this mean ? ' His perplexity was not diminished, as the King continued to probe him with strange questionings. He had need of all his dissimulation ; but the language of deceit is seldom pure and unadulterated. Conse- quently, with a deal of excellent matter, excellently expressed, we find in the Cardinal's speech some 216 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEAEE. ambiguities, some twistings and turnings, much that is exaggerated, much that is extravagant. Those words, 'that am, have, and will be,' if they mean anything, must refer to what he had just been saying — 'That I am, that I have been, that I will be, in the present, as in the past, and no less in the future, a labourer for the Kings advantage.' Even supposing, Wolsey purposely cast his words in the form of a motto, and appropriated it as his motto descriptive of his devoted attachment to the King, could any- thing be more laboured, more confused, more per- plexing, more obscure.' Bead his words which next follow : Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul ; though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and Appear in forms more horrid — yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours. What earnestness of protestation ! what rhetorical flourishes! what verbal embellishment! It is not the efflorescence of nature ; it is the embroidery of art. A slight change of punctuation — these slight changes may not be unworthy of notice — I venture to throw out for consideration rather than for certain adoption in the 383rd line : The king has cured me ; I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. 217 Here I put a full stop, and continue, Too much honour — 0, 'tis a burthen, Cromwell, 'tis a burthen Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven ! The usual method is to put a colon after ' honour,' which is thus made to stand in apposition to ' load.' Point as we will in Act V, 3, 1-2, the meaning is the same ; yet I prefer as more after Shakespeare's manner. Speak to the business, master secretary, Why are we met in council. There is a phrase in Act V, 3, 10-1'i, which has been needlessly cavilled at, But we all are men, In our own natures frail, and capable Of our flesh. * Flesh ' is here used, as it is in Pauline theology, for sinful indulgence. So understood, it should present no more difficulty to the interpreter than such phrases as 'capable of all ill' (Tempest), 'capable of evil' (Hamlet), 'capable of fears ' ^ (Kichard IH). It is the old doctrine of human fallibility put in Shakespeare's plain simple original effective fashion. A little further on, is it an editorial, or is it not rather a typographical error, that at the end of the 108th line we find a note of interrogation rather than one of exclamation ? ' Do you think, my lords,' says Norfolk, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd ? 218 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. to which the Chancellor's reply should unquestiona- bly be pointed thus, 'Tis now too certain : How much more is his life in value with him ! To the printer, too, rather than to the editors, I would fain attribute the pointing that we have in the 'Globe' Shakespeare a little lower down in the 130th line, Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. It is true that the Folios omit the comma after * proudest,' and that Shakespeare elsewhere uses the phrase, 'the proudest he' — oiie example we have in '3 Henry VI,' Act I, 1, 48 — but even supposing that it makes no difference, as perhaps it does not, that, in the instance cited, the superla- tive and the pronoun are not cut off from each other by separate lines, I venture to think that there is more force in the King's words, if a comma is placed after ' proudest.' ' Now '— says he — ' let me see the proudest, aye, the most daring ' — superlative following superlative ; for ' he that dares most' is virtually a superlative. How frequently Shakespeare explains, or amplifies, by the peri- phrasis of a personal pronoun and a relative clause, must have been observed by every attentive reader of his plays. That any objection will be raised on the score of the grammar, I do not anticipate, CORIOLANUS. 219 COEIOLANUS. The tragedy of * Corioianus ' was first printed in Folio. The text, we are told, 'abounds with errors, due probably to the carelessness or illegibility of the transcript from which it was printed.' This may be so, but these are not the only errors in it which need rec- tification. In most of the editions of the play, which are to be found nowadays in bookseller's shop or private library, there are erroneous emendations smug- gled into the text without license and without crying necessity; there are inaccuracies of punctuation, which obscure the sense and hoodwink the reader, attributable not to inadvertance on the part of the transcriber or printer, but to misjudgement on the part of the editor ; there are also ( to put it mildly ) some very questionable interpretations, which should not be allowed to stand unchallenged, and which may have to be superseded by others more pertinent and truthful ; besides all these, there are a number of passages, which admit of being explained in more ways than one, and which perhaps had better be left without note or comment of any kind 220 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. to the unbiassed judgment of each individual interpreter ; thus in Act I, 1, 195-198, where Coriolanus says of the multitude, They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know What's done i' the Capital ; who's like to rise, "Who thrives and who declines ; side factions and give out Conjectural marriages, why say that ' side factions ' means ' talie 'part in factions,' unless that be the only tolerable, or decidedly the best meaning that the words can bear ? As a matter of fact, it is neither the only possible, nor, in my opinion, the most probable one. These fire-side gossips affected to know the state of the political, just as they affected to know the state of the social world ; they patched up imaginary parties, making this man belong to this side, and that man to that, just as they gave out conjectural marriages ; faction-makers and match- makers were they, albeit their factions and their matches had no existence save in their idle imaginations and brainless babble. Minutiae of this sort, though not altogether devoid of interest, are yet not of paramount importance ; but it is important that there should be no mistake in such a passage as the 262nd line of this same Act and Scene — Act I, 1, 262 — where the punctuation of the Folio, though not always to be depended upon, may be accepted with confidence ; it certainly is not an advantageous exchange to put a note of exclamation, as some do, after The present wars devour him ; CORIOLANUS. 221 the tribunes are telling each other what they think of Coriolanus; how proud he was; how he had scorned and taunted them when they were appointed tribunes; they aggravate his offence by the remark, while perhaps they comfort themselves by the reflection, that even the gods themselves — those most high sacrosanct irresponsible arbiters — even the moon, the very ideal of modesty, he would not scruple to ' gird ' — to mock at ; what wonder, then, if tlieir tribunitian majesty, their tribunitian modesty, he despised, he insulted ! And now what further ? Do they, as some would have it, invoke a curse on Coriolanus, and wish him perdition by the wars ? No such thing. ' This ' man,' they continue, ' who has no regard for God or tribune, what does he care for ? ' The ivars ' — for the poet here, with a licence which is common to him, and which is perfectly well known to all those who have read his plays with attention, uses the plural form as an exact equivalent of the singular, an example of which we have in ' Cymbeline,' Act IV, 3, 43, where 'These present ivars' is said of a ivar then instant — 'the ?('( let it be observed that almost in the same breath, that Volumnia avows a feeling of pride of some sort, she disavows the pride which stiffened Coriolanus (line 130), as not derived from her, nor appertaining to her, but of his own begetting. And secondly, it is evident that Coriolanus felt that his mother had chidden him, and had not come round to his view of her own free will, but rather because she felt that she could not do otherwise. Her surrender to her son, then, was not a cheerful and spontaneous, but a half-hearted and compulsory one. Thus much generally ; and now to come to particulars : in what terms does Volumnia describe her own feelings ? Certainly not as of one who feared the consequences ; for (to use her own words) she mocked at death with as big heart as Coriolanus did. How then? As one who felt pride, but not exactly the pride which Coriolanus felt; but a rational pride akin to what we sometimes call self respect — a feeling that she had gone as far in entreating her son as a mother, or at least as Coriolanus' mother, should. He would be too proud to be continually suing, and continually denied ; well then — that pride of his she too felt : she let it be as he willed ; she passively permitted it, albeit it was contrary to her wish, her counsel, her best and highest judgment. I can almost fancy that Shakespeare had in his mind here that famous chapter in Israelitish history, when Jehovah, finding CORIOLANUS. 237 his people were determined to have a visible and temporal king, like all the nations aromid them, at length ceased to contend with them — let them have their will — allowing it rather than approving of it, conceding what was in reality repugnant to his commands and his comisel. Long was the ruin a- coming, but it came at last. Twelve lines from the end of the third Scene of Act 3, there is not the least reason for substituting ' not ' for ' hit ' in the line Making but reservation of yourselves, though the change has been made by some editors. Coriolanus declares that the end and aim of the plebeian party is to drive from the city every one who is not of their way of thinking, reserving none hut themselves — a suicidal policy; for the time would come, when their enemies would attack them, and then, having none among them who were possessed of military capacity — for, to use the words of Aufidius, * their tribunes were no soldiers ' — they would have to succumb without striking a blow, and would be carried away into a mean and miserable captivity. I am now going to plead for a condemned word in Act IV, 3, 9, % But your favour is well appeared by your tongue, which Mr. Collier, following Steevens, changed to ^approved,'' The change is certainly specious; yet the Folios are all on the other side; it may be as well, therefore, to hear what is to be said for 'is 238 HAED KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. appeared. ' It certainly would not be used in a novel or play of the nineteenth century, but it might have been familiar to the age of Shakespeare ; numbers of words and phrases were then current, which have since fallen into disuse. We should hardly expect to hear any one say in conversation nowadays, 'His lordship is umlkcd forth,' yet so says one of Shakespeare's characters. Stranger still, we have in the 'Comedy of Errors' Act V, 1, 388, And hereupon these errors are arose. Examples like these bid us be cautious, ere we oust a word, because it jars upon modern ears. Had the expression been, ' His favour is made apparent by his tongue,' no one would have said a word against it. Is it not possible that, in Shakespeare's day, the participle may have been permitted to occupy the place of the adjective? *Is entered' — 'is arrived' — 'is approached' — 'is become' — 'are ceased' — are all found in Shakespeare, used pretty much, if not exactly, like 'enters,' 'arrives,' 'approaches,' &c. Similarly 'is appeared' and 'appears' may both have been tolerated. There is an old smack about *is appeared,' jR^hich, though some may not relish it, perhaps they must stomach. I am very much inclined to believe that it is the genuine reading, a relic of the English of olden times. The d^mon of change has again seized the critics in the very beginning of the 6th Scene, where, though the reading of the copies is capable CORIOLANUS. 239 of being explained, it is altered, because it does not square with their notions of linguistic and grammatical propriety. What is easier than to construe the second line of the Scene thus, His remedies are tame, the present [is] peace and quietness of the people, which [that is, who] were before in wild hurry. On the one hand, the substantive verb is dropped in the second sentence, because 'are' has been expressed in the first ; on the other hand ' the present' is used as a noun substantive, of which there is no lack of examples. Thus in the * Tempest,' Act I, 1, 57, the substantive verb is left to be understood, albeit it had not been previously expressed, as 'The king and prince at prayers;' and in the same play, Act I, 1, 24, we have 'to work the peace of the incsent.' Yet in this passage of * Coriolanus ' Theobald must needs interpolate 'i" before 'the present,' and all break after him like a flock of sheep. I now come to Aufidius' speech at the end of the 4th Act, which, it must be acknowledged, is as complicated a piece of work, as perhaps may be found in all Shakespeare. Before I glance at particulai- parts of it, I may as well state generally, that the sketch which Aufidius gives of Coriolanus' character, together with the statement that accom- panies it that more depends on public opinion thaii on personal merit, is subordinate to the prediction which he utters in the opening lines of his speech, that 240 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. Coriolanus would be received with open arms by the peoi^le of Eome; while his reference to the instability of power, and to what I may call a great law of natural dynamics, is jweparatory to his second prediction, that Coriolanus will fall, and be politically annihilated. A blaze, and then dark- ness — such, in a word, is Aufidius' prognostication of Coriolanus' future. Ominous forebodings, which, coming at the very end of the 4th Act, foreshadow the scenes of tumult and bloodshed, which disturb and stain the termination of the 5th! Such being the main drift, and such the general connexion of the various parts of the speech, we need not over- much repine, if we cannot make sure of the precise meaning of every word and phrase in it. It may be a moot point, but it is not a matter of mighty moment, whether the sentence he has a merit To choke it in the utterance means, as Mr. Aldis Wright takes it, *to prevent the sentence being uttered,' or, as others, *to prevent the fault being insisted on,' even if 'utterance' may not have to be considered a different word altogether — viz,, the word which is used in ' Macbeth,' Act III, 1, 72, and in 'Cymbeline,' Act III, 1, 72, — in which case the meaning would rather be, ' he has a merit to choke the fault in the long run,' as we say, or 'when matters come to the uttermost extremity.' Nor will it make much odds, whether ' power unto itself most CORIOLANUS. 241 commendable' means * power, which, if viewed objectively, in itself, independently of any other consideration, is worthy of commendation;' or, as others, 'power with a high opinion of itself;' or as another puts it, 'power of which the commendations are apt to be addressed to itself;' or, as another, 'power, which, kept to itself, not talked or boasted of, is most commendable or most commended.' As for the couplet Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done, tkat can only mean that the chair of office, which silently proclaims a man's merit, is too often, if he could but foresee it, the very tomb of his power ; his exaltation accelerates his precipitation ; from the pinnacle to the pit is but a step. Mr. Aldis Wright is of opinion that the reading of the Folios may be retained in the line Rights by nght& fouler, strengths by strengths do fail ; 'Founder,' 'falter,' 'foiled are,' 'soiled are,' are some of the principal emendations which have been excogitated. If there is room for one more ( and some one I really think we must choose, for I have not a word to say in defence of the reading of the copies here), I offer Rights by rights fuller, strengths by strengths do fail, the adjective 'fuller' belonging to both clauses, though expressed only in the first, just as in ' Macbeth,' Act I, 2, 56, we have, according to the Folios, Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.. p 13 242 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE. The word I have ventured to suggest does not far diverge from the ductus literarum. We come now to the fifth Act, where it tasks the shrewdest cricital faculty to determine what the reading should be in the following lines — Act V, 1, 15-17— Why, so : you have made good work ! A pair of tribunes that have wracked for Eome, To make coals cheap, a noble memory ! Let the reader be very sure that, whatever may be the word which happens to be printed in the particular edition of Shakespeare, which he has in his possession, 'icraclcccV is the word which is set down in the Folios, and, inasmuch as our word 'wrecked,' wherever it occurs, is almost invariably spelt in the original copies with an ' a ' and not with an '«, ' the presumption is that 'loreched' is the word which is here authorized by the Folios. The meaning would be that the tribunes had (to borrow words from 'Macbeth') ' laboured in their country's wreck.' The preposition '/or,' coming after 'ivreck,' would be abnormal, but not necessarily un- Shakes- pearian. It might be illustrated by such expressions as the following. Revenge the heavens for old Andi'ouicus ! 'Titus Andronicus,' Act IV, 1, 129. How unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before Jor a little part, and undo a great deal of honour ! ' Timon,' Act III, 2, 52 ; Spare /or no faggots. ' 1 Henry VI/ Act V, 4, 56. CORIOLANUS. 243 This is the best account that I can give of ' wrecked for Eome.' Can more be said for the emendations which have been proposed ? ^RecJced for,' that is, cared for Rome, with the result that they had as good as brought it to the fire, and reduced it to ashes — this is one reading. ^Backed for,' that is, raised the price of it, with the result that it was only fit for fuel, so that coals would be cheap — this is another readmg. * Wreaked for Rome ' may be mentioned as a third ; they had wreaked their vengeance on Coriolanus by expatriating him under colour that it was for the public, good; but what had they effected? They had cheapened coals ! and cheap enough they would be, when the city was as it were the colliery to supply the fuel for its own conflagration ; the allusion, of course, is to Coriolanus having refused to be called by any title, Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire Of burning Eome. I can see no corruption, no obscurity, a little below in the 71st line, which is the last of the following passage; I kneel'd before him : ' Twas very faintly he said, ' Rise ;' dismiss'd me Thus, with his speechless hand : what he would do. He sent in writing after me ; what he would not, Bound loith an oath to yield to Ms conditions. Coriolanus specified in his written despatch, what concessions he was willing to make, adding, as a 244 HARD KNOTS IN SHAKESPEARE; proviso, that in everything else Com'mim should bind' himself by oath to submit to his ( Coriolanus') con- ditions. In the last clause the subject is changed from Coriolanus to Cominius. The grammar may lack completeness, but it should be remembered that here we have a brief and hurried summary of a short and curt interview — a sort of running conver- sational comment : say there is a little looseness, there is no obscurity ; the Romans who heard would not be slow to apprehend what was meant ; their fears had already anticipated the sinister tidings. Brevity here is surely a merit. The passage continues. So that all hope is vain Unless his noble mother and his wife. Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Where, it has been asked, is the verb that should follow 'unless'? To which I reply, where is it in ^•Eichard II,' Act V, 3, 32 ? My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth, Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. Where is it in 'All's Well That Ends Well/ Act IV, 1, 5? We must not seem to understand him, unless some one among. us whom we must produce for an interpreter. Where is it in 'Othello,' Act I, 1, 23-24? Nor the division of a battle knows More than a spinster, unless the Iwokish ihcon'e.. . Act III. 4. 52, ir>0 ; Act V. 1. 14 ; Act V. 5. yr>. Act I. 2. 74 ; Act III. 2. 55 : Act IV. 1.11; Act 5. 1. 209. IV. Passages requiring elucidation not emendation. Tempest Merchant of Venice As You Like It All's Well that Ends Well Winter's Tale ... ... ., 1 Henry IV 2 Henry IV , Richard III Henry VIII Ooriolanus Macbeth Zing Lear Act IV. 1. (Jl. Act IV. 1. .380. Act III. 2. 207. Act II. 1. H. Act II. 1. 143. Act V. 2. 77-79. Act IV. 1.88-%. Act III. .3. 23. Act II. 3. 4(; ; Act III. 2. 192. Act III. 2. 12(;-27 ; Act IV. 7. 28-55. A.ct I. 5. 23-26 ; Act IV. 3. 136-37. Act I. 3. 20 ; Act II. 2, 176. V. Passages more or less doubtful. Tempest Measure for Measure .. .. All's Well that Ends Well Winter's Tale King John 3 Henry VI Timon Julius Cfesar Macbeth Hamlet Kiner Lear Act III. 1. 15. Act III. 1. 126-128. Act IV. 2. 38. Act IV. 3. 98 ; Act TV. 4. 760. Act II. 1. 183-190; Act III. 1. IV. 2. 40-43. Act I. 4. 152-53. Actl. 2. 73. Act III. 1. 174. Act V. 3. 21. Act I. 3. 74 : Act I. 4. 37. Act 5. 3. 205. 279-285; Act THE END. T. J. BAWLINGS, STEAM PRINTER, CHKRTSET. Fc'jrmry 1SS5. A CATALOGUE OF WORKS IN GENERAL LITERATURE k SCIENCE ITIILISIIEU 1;Y MESSRS. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 29 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.G. §(ai.u-.ific6 AGRICULTURE, HORSES, DOGS, and CATTLE. Dog (The), by Stonehenge 21 Fitzwygrain' s Horses and Stables 10 Greyhound (The), by Stent henge I'l Horses and Roads, by Free-Lance 12 Loudon's Encyclopaedia of Agriculture 14 Lloyd's The Science of Agriculture 14 Afiies' (If. H.) Works on Horses and Stables . . 1/ NeviU's Farms and Farming 18 Hcrses and Riding iS Scott's Farm-Valuer 20 Steel's Diseases of the CJx 21 y tile's Artificial Manures 25 3 'ouatt on the Dog 24 — Horse 24 ANATOMY and PHYSIOLOGY. Aslihy s Notes on Physiul igy 5 Buckton's Health in the House 7 Cooke's Tablets of Anatomy and Physiology. ... H (7/<2yj Anatomy, Descriptive and Surgical .... 11 yJ/aca/z^/tv'i \'ertebrate Animals 15 O'Mt-n's Comparative Anatomy and Physiology. . :8 Quain's Elements of Anatomy 20 Siitith's Operative Surgery on the Dead Body .. 21 ASTRONOMY. Ball's Elements of Astronomy 22 Hcrsc/ul's Outlines of Astronomy 12 ' Knowledge ' Library (The) 20 Proctor's (R. .-!.) Works i.) Neison's The Moon 18 ll'cl'i/'s Celestial Objects for Conuuon I'elescopes 2;; BIOGRAPHY, REMINISCENCES, LETTERS, &e. Bacon's Life and Works 5 Bagehot's Biographical Studies 5 Bray's Phases of Opinion 7 Carlyle's {T.) Life, by James A. Froude 7 — — Reminiscences 7 (Mrs.) Letters and Memorials . Cates Dictionary of General Biography Co.v's Lives of Greek .Statesmen D' Eon de Beaumont's Li'"e, by Telfcr Fox{C. J.), Early History of, by G. O. iVevelyan Gj iiHsion's (Hon. A' .) I .ife, bv Gale Hamilton's (Sir 11'. A'.) Life,' by K. P. Graves. . //airlock's Memoirs, by J. C. Marshman J/rt("««/rt_j'\f Life and Letters, byG. O. 'J'revclyan Malmcsbury's Memoirs Maunders Biographical Treasury jllendelssohn's Letters Mill (James), a Biography, by .\. Bain Ji/i/l (John Stuart), a Criticism, by A. Bain. . . . Mill's (J. S.) Autobiography Mo'^lcy's Reminiscences of Oriel College, &c. . . • Towns, Villages, &c. J\lullcr's (Max) Biographical Essays Kc^i'nian's .•\pologia pro Vita Sua Pasolini's Memoir Pasteur's Life and Labours Shakespeare's Life, by J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps ' Southey's Correspondence with Caroline Bowles Stephen's Ecclesiastical Biography Wellington's Life, by G. R. (jleig BOTANY and GARDENING. Allen's Flowers and their Pedigrees De Caisne &^ Le Maout's Botany Lindley's Treasury of Botany BOTANY and GARDENING-cv;///;//W. London's Encyclopadia of Gardening 14 — ; ;— Encyclopaedia ot Plants. . .'. 14 Riijers' Orchard-House 20 —_ Rose Amateur's (J aide 20 Tliome's Botany 22 CHEMISTRY. ^r/w/;(i//^V Organic Chemistry 22 Kolhe's 1 norganic Chemistry 13 Miller's Elements of Chemistry 17 ■ Inorganic Chemistry 17 Pay en's Industrial Chemistry 18 'J'horpe&' Mnirs Qualitative Analysis 22 's Quantitative Analysis 22 Tilden's Chemical Philosophy 22 //'(f/.'i-' Dictionary of Chemistry 23 CLASSICAL LANGUAGES, LITERATURE, and ANTIQUITIES. Aristophanes' The Aclianiians, translated 5 A ristotle's Works 5 Becker's Charicles 6 — ; Gallus 6 Cicero's Correspondence, by Tyrrell 7 y/fiOTtr^-V Iliad, translated by Cayley 12 Green 12 J fort's The New Pantheon 12 Mahajpy's Classical CJreek Literature 16 Perry's Greek and Roman Sculpture ig Plato's Parmenides, by Maguire ig Pick's Dictionary of Antiquities 20 Simcox's History of Latin Literature 21 Sophocles' Works 21 / 'irgil's ^nid, translated by Ccnington 8 Poems s Works, with Notes by Kennedy 2j // 'itt's I\f yths of Hellas j^ The I'rojan War 24 The Wanderings of Ulysses 24 COOKERY, DOMESTIC ECONOMY, &e. Acton's Modern Cookery 4 Buckton's Food and Home Cookery 7 Aeez'e's Cookery and Housekeeping -o ENCYCLOPiTlDIAS, DICTIONARIES, and BOOKS of REFERENCE. Ayic's Bible Trea>ui y 5 Blackley's German Dictionary (, Btande's Diet, of Science, Literature, and .'\rt.. 6 Cabinet Lawyer (The) 7 Cates' Dictionary of Biography 7 Contanseau's French Dictionaries 8 Cresy's Encyclopa;dia of Civil Engineering 8 Gwilt's Encyclopa;dia of Architecture 1 1 Johnston's (jennYvX Dictionary of Geography .. 13 Latham's English Dictionaries i ^ Lindley S'-^z|?Ai'(7«V History of the Papacy 8 De Witt's (7ohii) Life, by Pontalis 8 De Toci]ue"jille's Democracy in America 8 Z'ty/f'^ Ihe English in America 9 Epochs of Ancient History 9 Modern History 9 Freeman s Historical Geography of Europe .... 10 Fronde's History of England 10 Short Studies 10 The English in Ireland 10 Gardiner's History of England, 1603-42 10 Outline of English History 11 Grant's University of Edinburgh 11 Greville's Journal 11 Hickson's Ireland in the 17th Century 12 Xff/ty'j History of England 14 European Morals 14 Rationalism in Europe 14 Leaders of Public Opinion in Ireland .. 14 Lewes' History of Philosophy 14 Longman s{]V.') Lectures on History of England 14 Life and Times of Edward III 14 (/'". /K.) Frederick the Great 14 Macaulays Complete Works 15 Critical and Historical Essays .... 15 History of England 15 Speeches 15 Maunders Historical Treasury 16 7I/rtJWf//'i Don John of Austria 16 yl/aj'V Constitutional Hist, of Eng. 1760-1S70 .. i6 Democracy in Europe 16 MerivaU's Fall of the Roman Republic 17 CSeneral History of Rome .., 17 Romans under the Empire 17 ■ The Roman Triumvirates 17 Raiulinson's Seventh ( Ireat Oriental Monarchy. . 20 Seebohm's The Oxford Reformers 20 The Protestant Revolution 20 HISTORY, POLITICS, HISTORICAL MEMOIRS and CRITICISM- ^^«/. Short's History of the Church of England. 2t .S";«;V /;'.$■ Carthage and the Carthaginians 21 Taylor's Hi-tory of India 22 H'alpole's History of England, 1815-41 23 U'ylie's England under Henry IV 24 ILLUSTRATED BOOKS and BOOKS on ART. Dresser's ]a.\>3.n; its Architecture, &c 9 Eastlakc's Five Great Painters 9 Hints on Household Taste 9 . — ■ Notes on Foreign Picture Galleries. . 9 Jameson's {I\Irs.) Works 13 Lang's {A.) Princess Nobody, illus. by R. Doyle 14 Maca/ilay's {Lord) Lays, illustrated by .Scharf . 15 illustrated by Weguelin 15 Moore's Irish Melodies, illustrated by Maclise . . iS Lalla Rookh, illustrated by Tenniel .... iS New Testament (The\ illustrated 18 /"^r/v-y^ Greek and Roman Sculpture .4 19 MEDICINE and SURGERY. Bull's Hints to Mothers 7 Maternal Management of Children 7 Coats' Manual of Pathology 7 Dickinson On Renal and Urinary Affections. ... 9 Erichsen's Concussion of the Spine 10 Science and Art of Surgery 10 Garrods Materia Medica 10 Treatise on Gout 10 i/fijf'^^rt'j Orthopaedic Surgery 12 Heiuiti's Diseases of Women 12 Mechanic. System of Uterine Pathology 12 Holmes' System of Surgery 12 Husband's Questions in Anatomy 12 Jones' The Health of the Senses 13 Little's Ill-Knee Distortion 14 Liveing's Works on Skin Diseases 14 Longmore's Gunshot Injuries 14 Mackenzie's Use of the Laryngoscope 15 Macnamara's Diseases of Himalayan Districts . . i6 Morehead's Disease in India i3 Murchiscn's Continued Fevers of Great Britain. 18 Diseases of the Liver 18 Paget's Clinical Lectures and Essays 18 Lectures on Surgical Pathology iS Pereira's Materia Medica 18 Quain's Dictionary of Medicine 20 Richardson's The Asclepaid 20 Salter's Dental Pathology and Surgery 20 Smith's Handbook for JNI id wives 21 Thomson's Conspectus, by I'irkett 22 IVatson's Principles and Practice of Physic .... 23 West's Diseases of Infancy and Childhood 23 MENTAL and POLITICAL PHILO- SOPHY, FINANCE, &e. Abbott's Elements of Logic 4 Amos' Science of Jurisprudence 4 A ristotle's Works 5 Bacon's Essays, with Notes, by Abbott 5 — ■ — by Hunter 5 — by Whately 5 Letters, Life, and Occasional Works. ... 5 Promus of Formularies s Works 5 Bagehot's Economic Studies ^ 5 Bain's {Prof.') Philosophical Works 6 De Tocqueville's Democracy in America 8 Doivells History of Ta.xes 9 Hume's Philosophical Works 13 Jejfferies' Tlie Story of My Heart 13 Justinian's Institutes, by T. Sandars 13 Kant's Critique of Pr.T.ctical Reason 13 Lang's Custom and Myth 13 Leivis' Authority in Matters of Opinion 14 Lubbock's Origin of Civilisation 14 Macleods (//. D. ) Works 16 Mills {James) Phenomena of the Human Mind 16 » Mills {J. S.) Logic, Killick's Handbook to 13 ' — ■ ; Works 17 Alillcr's Social Economy 17 Moncli's Introauction to Logic 18 Morells Handbook of Logic 17 Seebohm's English Village Community 20 LOXc.MAXS .\: CO. 'S LIST OF GENERAL AND SCIENTIFIC BOOKS. MENTAL and POLITICAL PHILO- SOPHY, FINANCE, gad.— continued. SuU/s Outliiu-s of Psychol, i^-y 22 Sivinl-iintc's I'lcture Lo^ic 22 Thoiiipson's A System of Psjchology 22 Thomson s Laws of Thought 22 Tivhs on the Ris;hts and Duties of Nations .... 22 /;VMVThc\ViU.f Isis 23 IVIiatcly's Elements of Logic 23 Elements of Rhetoric 23 IVylic's Labour, Leisure, and Luxury 24 Zelicr's Works on Greek Philosophy 24 MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. Amohi's (11/.) Miscellaneous Works 5 A. K. //. />., P'.ssays and Contributions of 4 Bag;£hot's Literary Studies 5 Beaconsfield IJirthday liook (The) 6 Beaco>is/lvitfs Wit and Wisdom 6 Evans' Bronze Implements of Great Britain .... 10 J-'arrar s Langu.age and Languages 10 Fienclis Drink in England 10 Jlassilfs Adulteration of Food 12 ychnson's Patentee's Manual 13 Longman's Magazine 14 yl/i«^A/c«'.f Lectures on Physical Geography .. 11 Hehitholtz Scientific Lectures 12 On the Sensation of Tone ; 12 Hitllah's History of Modern Music 12 Transition Period of Musical History. . 12 .Keller's Lake Dwellings of Switzerland 13 A'cr/'.f Treatise on Metallurgy 13 ' Knowledge ' Library (The) 20 Lloyd's Treatise on Magnetism 14 Macfarrcn's Lectures on Harmony 15 Afaundei 's Scientific Treasury 16 Proctor's (K. A.) Works 19 Kuilcy's The Study of Rocks 22 SCIENTIFIC WORKS {GQnQV2i\)-conf. Smith's Air and Rain 21 Te.vt -books of Science 22 Tyndall's (Pro/.) Works 22, 23 THEOLOGY and RELIGION. Arnold's (Dr.) Sermons 5 Ayre's Treasury of Bible Knowledge 5 Boultbee's Commentary on the 39 Articles 6 Browne's Exposition of the 39 Articles 7 Calvert's M'ife's Manual 7 Colenso's Pen'ateuch and Book of Joshua 7 Conder's Handbook to the Bible 7 Conybeare and Howson's St. Paul 8 Da-'idson's Introduction to the New Testament 8 Dewes Life and Letters of St. Paul 9 Edershcim's Jesus the Messiah 9 ■ Warburton Lectures 9 Ellicott's Commentary on St. Paul's Epistles . . 9 Lectures on the Life of Our Lord .... 9 Eui.iLfs .Antiquities of Israel 10 History of Israel 10 Hobart's Medical Language of St. Luke 12 tlopkins' Christ the Consoler 12 Jukes' (Rev. A.) Works 13 h'alisch's Bible Studies 13 ■ Commentary on the Old Testament . . 13 Lyra (iermanica 15 Macd.inahts Unspoken Sermons (second series) 15 Manning's Temporal Mission of the Holy Ghost 16 Martineau's Endeavoms after the Christian Life 16 Hours of Thought 16 MonselFs Spiritual Songs 18 MiilUr's (Max) Origin and Growth of Religion . 18 Science of Religion 18 Paley's Christian Evidences, &c., by Potts .... 18 Psalms (The) of David, translated by Seymour. . 21 Kogcis Defence of the Eclipse of Faith 20 The Eclipse of Faith 20 SewcU's Night Lessons from Scripture 21 • Passing Thoughts on Religion 21 Preparation for Holy Communion .... 21 Smith's Shipwreck of St. Paul 21 Supernatural Religion 22 'J'aylo) 's (-Jeremy) Entire Works 22 TRAVELS, ADVENTURES, GUIDE BOOKS, &e. Aldridge's Ranch Notes 4 Alpine Club (The) Map of Switzerland 4 Baker's Eight Years in Ceylon 5 Ritle and Hound in Ceylon 5 Ball's Alpine Guide 4 Brassey's (Lady) Works 7 Craitiford's Across the Pampas and the Andes . . 8 Dent's Above the Snow Line 8 Ereeman's United States 10 //assails San Remo 12 /fo-.vitt's Visits to Remarkable Places 12 Johnstons Dictionary of Geography 13 Maritime Alps (The) 16 A/aunder's Treasury of Geography 16 Melville's In the Lena Del t.a 16 Miller's Wintering in the Riviera 17 Three in Norway 22 WORKS of FICTION. Ansfcys The Black IVuhUo, .<:c 5 Antinous, by George Taylor 5 Atelier du Lys (The) 17 .'Vtherstone Priory 17 Beaconsfield s (Lord) Novels and Tales 6 Burgomaster's Family (The) 17 Elsa and her Vulture 17 //arte's (Bret) In the Carquinez Woods 17 On the Frontier 12 In the Olden Time 13 Mademoiselle Mori 17 Modern Novelist's Library (I'he) 17 Oliphant's (A/rs.) In Trust 17 Madam iS Payn's Thicker than Water 17 Seidell's (J/iss) Stories and I'ales 21 Six Sisters of the Valleys (The) 17 Sturgis' My' Friends and 1 22 jT^o/Zc'/^'^ (.-/ «//(<;«/) Barchester Towel s 17 The Warden 17 L'nawares 17 Whyte-Mch'ille's (Major) Novels 17 A CATALOGUE f ORKS IN GENERiL LITERATURE & SCIENCE rUBI.ISHEU EY Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.C. ABBEY and OVERTON.— 77/^ Exc- Lisn CncRCii /.v the Eighteenth Cextury. By the Rev. C. J. Abkuy and the Rev, J. H. Overton. 2 vols. 8vo. T)6s. ABBOTT. — The Elements of Logic. By T, K. Abbott, B.D. 121V.0. 2.r. 6-/. sewed, or 3r. cloth, ACTON. — Modern Cookery for Priva te Families, reduced to a System of Easy Practice in a Series of carefully tested Receipts, By Eliza Acton. With upwards of 150 Woodcuts, Fcp, 8vo. i\s. 6if. A. K. H. B.—T//E EssAVS AND Con- tributions OF A. A'. II. >9.— L'niform Cabinet Editions in crown 8vo. Autumn Holidays, y. 61. Changed A'^pects of Unchanged Truths, 3^. 6d. 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