You have not sought her help; of whose soft grace, Received a second life, and second father And rest myself content. Alon. You the like loss? Pro. As great to me, as late; and portable2 Alon. A daughter? O heavens! that they were living both in Naples, Pro. In this last tempest. I perceive, these lords To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; The entrance of the Cell opens, and discovers FER- Mira. Sweet lord, you play me false. Fer. I would not for the world. And I would call it fair play. Alon. A vision of the island, one dear son Seb. If this prove A most high miracle! Fer. Though the seas threaten, they are merci ful: I have curs'd them without cause. Alon. [FER. kneels to ALON. Now all the blessings Of a glad father compass thee about! 'Tis new to thee. Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: Of roaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains, 3 Mr. Pye says, I conceive Shakspeare, who was no expressive and most appropriate. To wrangle, in the nice weigher of words, meant wrangling to be equiva-language of his time, was to haft or overthwart; to rur lent with playing false, or with unfair advantage. So in back and yet not cease to contend. Henry V. the king, in allusion to the tennis balls, directs the ambassadors to tell the dauphin "He hath made a match with such a wrangler, That all the courts of France shall be disturb'd' With chases." Mr. Pye's explanation is correct; but his deduction that Shakspeare was "no nice weigher of words" is totally false. Shakspeare's words are always the most 4 When no man was in his senses or had self-pos. session. 5 See Note 2. Sc. 1. 6 Neat, adroit. Florio interprets "Pargoletta; quaint pretty, nimble, tririe, tender, small." When we re member the tiny dimensions of Ariel, who could lie in the bell of a cowslip, the epithet, like all those of the great poet, will be found peculiarly appropriate. be free. Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod: And there is in this business more than nature Pro. Sir, my liege, Do not infest your mind with beating on2 The strangeness of this business: at pick'd leisure, Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you (Which to you shall seem probable3) of every These happen'd accidents: till when, be cheerful, And think of each thing well.-Come hither, spirit; Aside. Set Caliban and his companions free: There are yet missing of your company Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel. Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune:Coragio, bully-monster, Coragio! Trin. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. Cal. O Setebos, these be brave spirits, indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid What things are these, my lord Antonio! Will money buy them? Ant. Very like; one of them Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my His mother was a witch; and one so strong Cal. should they Find this grand liquor that hath gilded them ?— How cam'st thou in this pickle? And worship this dull fool! Pro. Go to; away! Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. Seb. Or stole it, rather. [Exeunt CAL. STE. and TRIN. Pro. Sir, I invite your highness, and your train, To my poor cell: where you shall take your rest For this one night; which (part of it) I'll waste With such discourse, as, I not doubt, shall make it Go quick away: the story of my life, And the particular accidents, gone by, Since I came to this isle: And in the morn, I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, Where I have hope to see the nuptial Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized; And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave. Alon. I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely. I'll deliver all; And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, And sail so expeditious, that shall catch That is thy charge; then to the elements Your royal fleet far off.-My Ariel,-chick,Be free, and fare thou well!-Aside.] Please you, [Exeunt. Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I saw you last, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. Seb. Why, how now, Stephano? Pro. draw near. EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. Now my charms are all o'erthrown, Ås you from crimes would pardon'd be, [It is observed of The Tempest, that its plan is regu lar; this the author of The Revisal thinks, what I think too, an accidental effect of the story, not intended or regarded by our author. But whatever might be Shakspeare's intention in forming or adopting the plot, he has Ste. O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a made it instrumental to the production of many charac cramp. on. Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah? Cal. Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter, 1 Conductor. 2 There is a vulgar expression still in use, of similar import, "Still hammering at it." 3 This parenthetical passage seems to mean:-"When I have explained to you, then these strange events shall seem more probable than they do now." 4 Honest. ters, diversified with boundless invention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and sailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an earthly goblin. The operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adven tures of a desert island, the native effusion of untaught affection, the punishment of guilt, and the final happi ness of the pair for whom our passions and reason are equally interested.] JOHNSON. 5 That is, work the same effects as the moon without her delegated authority. 6 The allusion is to the elixir of the Alchemists. The phrase of being gilded was a trite one for being drunk. Fletcher uses it in the Chances : Duke. Is she not drunk too? Wh. A little gilded o'er, sir; old sack, old boys. 7 By your applause. Noise was supposed to dissolve a spell. Thus before in this play : Hush! be mute; TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. THIS is one of Shakspeare's earliest if not his first play. It was not printed until 1623, but it is men. tioned by Meres in his Wit's Treasury, printed in 1598. It bears strong internal marks of an early composition. Pope has observed, that "the style of this comedy is less figurative, and more natural and unaffected than the greater part of Shakspeare's, though supposed to be one of the first he wrote." Malone is inclined to consider this to be in consequence of that very circumstance, and that it is natural and unaffected because it was a youthful performance. "Though many young poets of ordinary talents are led by false taste to adopt inflated and figurative language, why should we suppose that such should have been the course pursued by this mas ter genius? The figurative style of Othello, Lear, and Macbeth, written when he was an established and long practised dramatist, may be ascribed to the additional knowledge of men and things which he had acquired during a period of fifteen years; in consequence of which his mind teemed with images and illustrations, and thoughts crowded so fast upon him, that the construction, in these and some other plays of a still later period, is much more difficult and involved than in the productions of his youth." condemned for adopting a mode of writing admired by his contemporaries; they were not considered low and trifling in Shakspeare's age, but on the contrary were very generally admired and allowed for pure and genuine wit. Yet some of these scenes have much farcical drollery and invention: that of Launce with his dog in the fourth act is an instance, and surely "Speed's mode of proving his master to be in love is neither deficient in wit or sense." "The tender scenes in this play, though not so highly wrought as in some others, have often much sweetness of sentiment and expression." Schlegel says: "it is as if the world was obliged to accommodate itself to a transient youthful caprice, called love." Julia may be considered a light sketch of the lovely characters of Viola and Imogen. Her answer to Lucetta's advice against following her lover in disguise has been pointed out as a beautiful and highly poetical passage. "That it should ever have been a question whether this comedy were the genuine and entire composition of Shakspeare appears to me very extraordinary," says Malone. "Hanmer and Upton never seem to have considered whether it were his first or one of his latest pieces-is no allowance to be made for the first flights of a young poet? nothing for the imitation of a preceding celebrated dramatist, which in some of the lower dialogues of this comedy (and these only) may, I think, be traced? But even these, as well as the other parts of the play, are perfectly Shakspearian (1 do not say as finished and beautiful as any of his other pieces ;) and the same judgment must, I conceive, be pronounced concerning the Comedy of Errors and Love's Labour's Lost, by every person who is intimately acquainted with his manner of writing and thinking." Hanmer thought Shakspeare had no other hand in this play than the enlivening it with some speeches and lines, which, he thinks, are easily distinguished from the rest. Upton peremptorily asserts, "that if any proof can be drawn from manner and style, this play must be sent packing, and seek for its parent else where." "How otherwise," says he, "do painters distinguish copies from originals, and have not authors their peculiar style and manner, from which a true critic can form as unerring judgment as a painter?" To this Johnson replies very satisfactorily: "I am afraid this illustration of a critic's science will not prove what is desired. A painter knows a copy from an original by rules somewhat resembling those by which critics know a translation, which, if it be literal, and literal it must be to resemble the copy of a picture, will be easily distinguished. Copies are known from originals, even when a painter copies his own picture; so if an author should literally translate his work, he would lose the manner of an original. Upton confounds the copy of a picture with the imitation of a painter's manner. Copies are easily known; but good imitations are not detected with equal certainty, and are, by the best judges, often mistaken. Nor is it true that the writer has always peculiarities equally distinguishable with those of the painter. The peculiar manner of each arises from the desire, natural to every performer, of facilitating his subsequent work by recurrence to his former ideas; this recurrence produces that repetition which is called habit. The painter, whose work is partly intellectual and partly manual, has habits of the mind, the eye, and the hand; the writer has only habits of the mind. Some of the incidents in this play may be sup Yet some painters have differed as much from them-posed to have been taken from The Arcadia, book 1. selves as from any other; and I have been told, that there is little resemblance between the first works of Raphael and the last. The same variation may be expected in writers; and, if it be true, as it seems, that they are less subject to habit, the difference between their works may be yet greater." "But by the internal marks of composition we may discover the author with probability, though seldom with certainty. When I read this play, I cannot but think that I find both in the serious and ludicrous scenes, the language and sentiments of Shakspeare, It is not indeed one of his most powerful effusions; it has neither many diversities of character, nor striking delineation of life, but it abounds in yvopat beyond most of his plays, and few have more lines or passages which, singly considered, are eminently beautiful. am yet inclined to believe that it was not very success. ful, and suspect that it has escaped corruption, only because, being seldom played, it was less exposed to the hazards of transcription." Sir William Blackstone observes, "that one of the great faults of the Two Gentlemen of Verona is the has. tening too abruptly, and without preparation, to the denouement, which shows that it was one of Shakspeare's very early performances." Dr. Johnson in his concluding observations has remarked upon the geogra phical errors. They cannot be defended by attributing them to his youthful inexperience, for one of his latest productions is also liable to the same objection. To which Malone replies: "The truth, I believe, is, that as he neglected to observe the rules of the drama with respect to the unities, though before he began to write they had been enforced by Sidney in a treatise which doubtless he had read; so he seems to have thought that the whole terraqueous globe was at his command; and as he brought in a child at the beginning of a play, who in the fourth act appears as a woman, so he seems to have set geography at defiance, and to have considered countries as inland or maritime just as it suited his fancy or convenience." ch. vi. where Pyrocles consents to head the Helots: The Arcadia was entered on the Stationers' books in 1588. The love adventure of Julia resembles that of Viola in Twelfth Night, and is indeed common to many of the ancient novels. Mrs. Lennox informs us, that the story of Proteus and Julia might be taken from a similar one in "The Diana" of Montemayor. This pastoral romance was translated from the Spanish in Shakspeare's time, by Bartholomew Young, and published in 1598. It does not appear that it was previously published, though it was translated two or three years before by one Thomas Wilson, perhaps some parts of it may have been made public, or Shakspeare may have found the tale elsewhere. It has before been observed that Meres menItions the Two Gentlemen of Verona in his book, published in 1598. Malone conjectures that this play was the first that Shakspeare wrote, and places the date of its composition in the year 1591. Pope has set what he calls a mark of reprobation upon the low and trifling conceits which are to be found in this play. It is true that the familiar scenes abound with quibbles and conceits; but the poet must not be * Malone points at Lilly, whose comedies were performed with great success and admiration previous to Shakspeare's commencement of his dramatic career. Think on thy Proteus, when thou, haply, seest When thou dost meet good hap; and, in thy danger, If ever danger do environ thee, Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. Val. 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, Val. No, I will not, for it boots thee not. What? prove. Pro. 'Tis love you cavil at; I am not Love. Val. Love is your master, for he masters you: 1 Milton has the same play upon words in his Comus. "It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence." 2 The expression shapeless idleness is admirably expressive, as implying that idleness prevents the giv. ing form or character to the manners. 3 The allusion is to Marlow's poem of Hero and Leander, which was entered on the Stationers' books in 1593, though not published till 1598. It was proba. bly circulated in manuscript in the interim, as was the custom at that period. The poem seems to have made an impression on Shakspeare, who appears to have recently perused it, for he again alludes to it in the third act. And in As You Like It he has quoted a line from it. JULIA, a Lady of Verona, beloved by Proteus. SILVIA, the Duke's Daughter, beloved by ValenLUCETTA, Waiting-woman to Julia. tine. Servants, Musicians. SCENE, sometimes in VERONA; sometimes in MILAN; and on the frontiers of MANTUA. And he that is so yoked by a fool, Pro. Yet writers say; As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all. Val. And writers say, As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Once more adieu: my father at the road Pro. And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. Val. Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. To Milan, let me hear from thee by letters, Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love. Speed. Sir Proteus, save you: Saw you my master? Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. Speed. Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already; And I have played the sheep," in losing him. Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray, An if the shepherd be awhile away. Speed. You conclude that my master is a shepherd then, and a sheep? Pro. I do. Speed. Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. 4 A proverbial expression, now disused, signifying, 'Don't make a laughing-stock of me.' The French have a phrase Bailler foin en corne: which Cotgrave interprets, to give one the boots; to sell him a bargain." Perhaps deduced from a humorous punishment at harvest home feasts in Warwickshire. 5 Circumstance is used equivocally. It here means conduct; in the preceding line, circumstantial de duction. 6 The construction of this passage, is, "Let me hear from thee by letters to Milan," i. e. addressed to Milan. 7 In Warwickshire, and some other counties, a sheep is pronounced a ship. Without this explanation the jest, such as it is, might escape the reader. Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by another. Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks not me: therefore I am no sheep. Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd, the shepherd for food follows not the sheep; thou for wages followest thy master, thy master for wages follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep. Speed. Such another proof will make me cry baa. Pro. But dost thou hear! gav'st thou my letter to Julia? Speed. Ay, sir; I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour. Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a store of muttons. Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. Pro. Nod, I! why, that's noddy. and Speed. Now you have taken the pains to set it together, take it for your pains. Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing the letter. Speed. Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. Pro. Why, sir, how do you bear with me? Speed. Marry, sir, the letter very orderly; having nothing but the word, noddy, for my pains. Pro. Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. Speed. And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. Pro. Come, come, open the matter in brief: What said she? Speed. Open your purse, that the money and the matter may be both at once delivered. Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains: What said she? Speed. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. Pro. Why? Could'st thou perceive so much from her? Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: And being so hard to me that brought your mind, I fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind. Give her no token but stones, for she's as hard as steel. Pro. What, said she nothing? Speed. No, not so much as-take this for thy pains. To testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testern'd' me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master. 1 Cotgrave explains laced mutton, une garce, putain, flie de joye. It was so established a term for a cortezan, that a lane in Clerkenwell, much frequented by loose women, is said to have been thence called Mutton Lane. 2 These words were supplied by Theobald to introdace what follows. In Speed's answer, the old spelling the affirmative particle has been retained; otherwise the conceit would be unintelligible. Noddy was a game at cards. 3 Testens, or (as we now commonly call them, tesPers.) from a head that was upon them, were coined in 1542. Sir H. Spelman says they were a French coin of the value of 18d.; and he does not know but that they Pro. Go, go, begone, to save your ship fron Which cannot perish, naving thee apoard, SCENE II. [Exeunt. The same. Garden of Julia's house. Enter JULIA and LUCETTA. Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, Jul. Of all the fair resort of gentlemen, Luc. Please you, repeat their names, I'll show According to my shallow simple skill. Jul. What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? Jul. What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? Luc. Pardon, dear madam; 'tis a passing shame, Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. Jul. Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? Luc. Then thus,-of many good I think him best. Jul. Your reason? Luc. I have no other but a woman's reason; I think him so, because I think him so. Luc. Av, if you thought your love not cast away. Jul. I would, I knew his mind. paper, madam. That the contents will show. He would have given it you, but I, being in the way, pray. |