Scene 2. Page 27. Leon. And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour. This is not the only gross and offensive metaphor of the kind that our poet has used. In Measure for measure, we have "groping for trouts in a peculiar river." Scene 2. Page 30. Leon. ... I have trusted thee Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart—— ... wherein, priest-like thou Hast cleans'd my bosom. So in Macbeth we have, "Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart." Scene 2. Page 39. Cam. ... If I could find example Of thousands that had struck anointed kings And flourish'd after, I'd not do't. If, as Mr. Blackstone supposes, this be an allusion to the death of the queen of Scots, it exhibits Shakspeare in the character of a cringing flatterer accommodating himself to existing circumstances, and is moreover an extremely severe one. But the perpetrator of that atrocious murder did flourish many years afterwards. May it not rather be designed as a compliment to King James on his escape from the Gowrie conspiracy, an event often brought to the people's recollection during his reign, from the day on which it happened being made a day of thanksgiving? See Scene 2. Page 41. Pol. In whose success we are gentle. So in Act V. Scene 2, the old shepherd says, "we must be gentle now we are gentlemen." What our ancestors conceived to be the true definition of a gentleman may be seen at large in The booke of honor and armes, 1594, 4to, book iii. In Morgan's Sphere of gentry, the silly author has gravely stated that Jesus Christ was a gentleman and bore arms. Of the latter assertion he has given no proof, though he might have adduced a sort of armorial bearing made up from the implements of the passion, and often exhibited as such in some of the horÆ and other service books of the church, before the reformation. Such a coat of arms was likewise used as a stamp on the covers of old books, with the motto REDEMPTORIS MUNDI ARMA. Gentle gentlemen is an alliteration that is very frequent in writers of the age of Shakspeare. In the preface to Gerard Leigh's Accedence of armorie, 1597, 4to, three sorts of ungentiles are described, "the first whereof are gentle ungentle. Such be they as wil rather sweare armes then beare armes. Who of negligence stop mustard pots with their fathers pedegrees, or otherwise abuse them. The second sort are ungentle gentlemen, who being enhaunced to honor by their fathers, on whom (though it were to their owne worship) yet can they not keepe so much money from the dice, as to make worshipful obsequies for their sad fathers with any point of armory. The third sort, and worst of all, are neither gentle ungentle, or ungentle gentile, but verie stubble curs, and be neither doers, sufferers, or wel speakers of honors tokens." Scene 2. Page 42. Cam. I am appointed him to murder you. "i. e." says Mr. Steevens, "I am the person appointed to murder you." This is certainly the meaning, but the Scene 2. Page 42. Pol. ... and my name Be yok'd with his that did betray the best. Mr. Henderson's conjecture that Judas is here meant is certainly well founded. A clause in the sentence against excommunicated persons was, "let them have part with Judas that betrayed Christ. Amen;" and this is here imitated. ACT II.Scene 3. Page 73. Leon. And lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd. The derivation of lozel cited from Verstegan is arbitrary, and deduced from a mere resemblance of sound. The word has been apparently corrupted from the Saxon lorel, used by Chaucer for a worthless fellow. See Mr. Tyrwhitt's glossary. The corruption may have originated in the similitude of the letters r and z in ancient manuscripts. ACT III.Scene 2. Page 82. Her. ... since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd to appear thus. Dr. Johnson, not understanding these lines, "with the licence of all editors," pronounces them unintelligible. However strange the language may appear in the mouth of a lady, there is hardly a doubt that it is a metaphor taken from ACT IV.Scene 2. Page 107. Aut. When daffodils begin to peer, &c. Mr. Steevens, to give himself an opportunity of introducing a neat retort on an attack which his favourite author had sustained, has quoted a remark by Dr. Burney that Autolycus "is the true ancient minstrel, as described in the old fabliaux." With great deference to this learned and elegant writer, the observation is inaccurate. Autolycus has nothing in common with the character of a minstrel but the singing of a song or two. He is a mere rogue, assuming various shapes, and is specifically called so in the dramatis personÆ; but it will not surely be contended that all rogues were minstrels, because a cruel and illiberal statute has made all minstrels rogues. It is true that Autolycus declares he had been an ape-bearer; but this was no part of the minstrel profession in Shakspeare's time, though it had been so formerly. As this circumstance however has not been noticed, or at least very slightly, by any of the writers on the subject of the ancient minstrels, it may be worth while to exhibit the following curious story from the second book of The dialogues of Saint Gregory, who lived in the sixth century. At the celebration of the feast of Saint Proculus the martyr, a nobleman named Fortunatus having prevailed on Bishop Scene 2. Page 109. Aut. The lark that tirra-lirra chants. The tire-lire was not, it seems, peculiar to the lark. In Skelton's Colin Cloute we have, "... howe Cupide shaked His darte and bente hys bowe, For to shote a crowe, At her tyrly tyrlowe." And in one of the Coventry pageants there is the following old song sung by the shepherds at the birth of Christ, which is further remarkable for its use of the very uncommon word endenes, from the Saxon en?eneh??, the last. "As I out rode this endenes night, Of three joli shepherds I sawe a syght, And all aboute there fold a stare shone bright: They sang terli terlow, So mereli the sheppards there pipes can blow." Scene 2. Page 111. Aut. My father named me Autolycus, &c. It is necessary on this occasion to lay before the reader Dr. Warburton's own words. "Mr. Theobald says, the allusion is unquestionably to Ovid. He is mistaken. Not only the allusion, but the whole speech is taken from Lucian, who appears to have been one of our poet's favourite authors, as Now if any one will take the trouble of comparing what Ovid and Lucian have respectively said concerning Autolycus, he will, it is presumed, be altogether disposed to give the preference to Theobald's opinion. Dr. Warburton must have been exclusively fortunate in discovering that the whole speech is taken from Lucian; that he was one of our poet's favourite authors; and that, in the dialogue alluded to, Autolycus talks much in the same manner. He must have used some edition of Lucian's works vastly preferable to those which now remain. The reader will be pleased to consult the eleventh book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, in the translation (if he have it) by Golding. Scene 2. Page 113. Clown. ... three-man songmen all. "They have also Cornish three-mens songs, cunningly contrived for the ditty, and pleasantly for the note." Carew's Survey of Cornwall, fo. 72. Scene 2. Page 113. Clown. ... but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes. An allusion to a practice, common at this time among the Puritans, of burlesquing the plein chant of the Papists, by adapting vulgar and ludicrous music to psalms and pious compositions. Scene 3. Page 123. Per. For you there's rosemary, and rue; Grace and remembrance be to you both. The following lines are from a song entitled, "Rosemarie is for remembrance, Betweene us daie and night, Wishing that I might alwaies have You present in my sight." This plant, as being thought to strengthen the memory, was therefore given to friends, as in the present instance. See Parkinson's Flower garden, p. 426. Thus Ophelia says to her brother, "There's rosemary; that's for remembrance, pray you, love, remember." The reason for calling rue herb of grace is best explained in the notes on a subsequent speech of Ophelia. See vol. xv. p. 276. Scene 3. Page 124. Per. ... and streak'd gilliflowers, Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind Our rustick garden's barren; and I care not To get slips of them. Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, Do you neglect them? Per. For I have heard it said, There is an art which in their piedness, shares With great creating nature. The solution of the riddle in these lines that has embarrassed Mr. Steevens is probably this: the gilly-flower or carnation is streaked, as every one knows, with white and red. In this respect it is a proper emblem of a painted or immodest woman, and therefore Perdita declines to meddle with it. She connects the gardener's art of varying the colours of the above flowers with the art of painting the face, a fashion very prevalent in Shakspeare's time. This conclusion is justified by what she says in her next speech but one. Scene 3. Page 126. Per. The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun And with him rises weeping. "So upon occasions past, David found it true that he Scene 3. Page 131. Per. ... I'll swear for 'em. Dr. Johnson would transfer this speech to the king, and Mr. Ritson would read "swear for one," or at least have some alteration; but in reality no change is necessary. Florizel had just said, "so turtles pair that never mean to part," on which Perdita very naturally observes, "I'll swear for 'em." This is no more than a common phrase of acquiescence, as we likewise say, "I'll warrant you." Scene 3. Page 137. Aut. ... poking-sticks of steel. To Mr. Steevens's curious note on these implements for stiffening the ruffs formerly worn by persons of both sexes, it may be worth adding that this fashion being carried to a great extremity, became the subject of many satirical prints. One of the oldest was engraved in 1580, by Matthias Quad, and represents the Devil's ruff-shop, he being called the kragen-setzer or ruff-setter. A young gallant has brought his mistress to have her ruff set. The Devil is engaged in this operation whilst an assistant is heating fresh poking-sticks in a brasier. Another print of this sort by Galle, is copied from a design by Martin de Vos, and entitled Diaboli partus superbia. It has this inscription relating to the poking-sticks: "Avec ces fers chauds qu'on vous icy appreste, En enfer puny seras, O layde beste." Other prints represent several Scene 3. Page 138. Clown. Clamour your tongues, and not a word more. The word is difficult, and, it is feared, likely to afford nothing but conjecture. Dr. Warburton asserts that the phrase is from ringing; that to clamour bells is to repeat the stroke quicker than before, previously to ceasing them. On the contrary, Dr. Grey maintains that to clamour bells is a continued ringing, and Mr. Malone, with great probability, suspects that what Warburton has said is gratis dictum. Dr. Johnson says that "to clam a bell is to cover the clapper with felt, which drowns the blow, and hinders the sound;" and Mr. Nicholls, that a good clam is a peal of all the bells at once. According to the treatise on ringing in The school of recreation, 1684, 12mo, "clamming is when each concord strikes together, which being done true, the 8 will strike but as four bells, and make a melodious harmony." The accounts of bell-clamming are therefore so discordant that it seems but fair to give up entirely this sense of the word. The clown evidently wishes to keep the damsels' tongues from wagging. Now to clam, clem, or cleam are provincial words, signifying to glue together or fasten with glue, and, metonymically, to starve by contraction. Thus, "... my entrails Are clam'd with keeping a continual fast." Massinger's Roman actor. And we still use clammy, for sticking together. All the Northern languages have an equivalent term. The Germans have klemmen, to tie, and in the old Icelandic we find klÆmman in the same sense. Ihre, Lexicon Suio-Goth. In Saxon clam, ligamen, clÆm?n?, a stiffening. Somner Gloss. Littelton has to clamm, or hunger-starve, and Rider to clamme, Scene 3. Page 148. Re-enter servant, with twelve rusticks habited like satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt. In the old collection of songs set by Thomas Ravenscroft and others, already quoted in p. 11, there is one called The satyres daunce. It is for four voices, and as follows:— "Round a round, a rounda, keepe your ring To the glorious sunne we sing; Hoe, hoe! He that weares the flaming rayes, And the imperiall crowne of bayes, Him, with him, with shoutes and songs we praise. Hoe, hoe! That in his bountee would vouchsafe to grace The humble sylvanes and their shaggy race." Scene 3. Page 154. Shep. Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. i. e. I must be buried as a common malefactor, out of the pale of consecrated ground, and without the usual rites of the dead; a whimsical anachronism, when it is considered that the old shepherd was a Pagan, a worshipper of Jupiter and Apollo. But Shakspeare seldom cares about blending the manners of distant ages. Dr. Farmer has remarked that the priest's office above mentioned might be remembered in Shakspeare's time, which is very probable: the mention of it here is one of the numerous instances of his intimate acquaintance with the ACT V.Scene 1. Page 182. Flo. ... Good my lord, She came from Libya. Perdita is here transformed into a Moor; and although this play among others affords the most unequivocal proofs of Shakspeare's want of skill in the science of geography, it is at least possible that an error of the press has substituted Libya for Lydia or Lycia. Scene 2. Page 194. Clown. Give me the lie, do; and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. This is a satire on certain ridiculous punctilios very much in use at this time. Thus in The booke of honor and armes, 1590, 4to, "In saying a gentleman borne, we meane he must be descended from three degrees of gentry, both on the mother's and father's side." The same work has many particulars relating to the circumstances in which the giving the lie is to be resented. See likewise Vincent Saviolo On honor and honorable quarrels, book ii. THE CLOWN.He is a mere country booby. The observation by Dr. Warburton, that The winter's tale with all its absurdities is very entertaining, though stated by Dr. Johnson to be just, must be allowed at the same time to be extremely frigid. In point of fine writing it may be ranked among Shakspeare's best efforts. The absurdities pointed at by Warburton, together with the whimsical anachronisms of Whitson pastorals, Christian burial, an emperor of Russia, and an Italian painter of the fifteenth century, are no real drawbacks on the superlative merits of this charming drama. The character of Perdita will remain for ages unrivalled; for where shall such language be found as she is made to utter? |