"

days of Elizabeth; not so solemn as the pavanthe "doleful pavan," as Davenant calls it, in which princes in their mantles, and lawyers in their long robes, and courtly dames with enormous trains, swept the rushes like the tails of peacocks. From this circumstance came its name, the pavan-the dance of the peacock. The " measure may be best described in Shakspere's own words, in the mouth of the lively Beatrice, in Much Ado about Nothing:-"The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time; if the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in For everything, and so dance out the answer. hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical: the wedding, mannerlymodest, as a measure full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave."

16 SCENE IV." Give me a torch." Romeo declares that he will not dance: "I am not for this ambling."

He subsequently says,

"I'll be a candle-holder, and look on."

Anciently, all rooms of state were lighted by waxen torches borne in the hands of attendants. Froissart thus describes the feasting of Gaston de Foix:-" At midnight when he came out of his chamber into the hall to supper, he had ever before him twelve torches brennyng, borne by twelve varlettes standing before his table all supper." To hold the torch was not, however, a degrading office in England; for the gentlemen pensioners of Elizabeth held torches while a play was acted before her in the chapel of King's College, Cambridge.

17 SCENE IV.-" Tickle the senseless rushes with • their heels."

not

Carpets, though known in Italy, were adapted to the English habits in the time of Elizabeth; and even the presence-chamber of that queen was, according to Hentzner, strewed with hay, by which he meant rushes. The impurities which gathered on the floor were easily removed with the rushes. But the custom of strewing rushes, although very general in England, was not peculiar to it. Mr. Brown, in his work on Shakspere's autobiographical poems, has this observation: "An objection has been made, imputing an error, in Grumio's question, 'Are the rushes strewed?' But the custom of strewing rushes in England belonged also to Italy; this may be seen in old authors, and their very word, giuncare, now out of use, is a proof of it."

18 SCENE IV. "Tut! dun's the mouse." We have a string of sayings here which have much puzzled the commentators. When Romeo exclaims, "I am done," Mercutio, playing upon the word, cries "dun's the mouse.' This is a proverbial phrase, constantly occurring in the old comedies. It is probably something like the other

cant phrase that occurs in Lear, "the cat is grey." The following line,

"If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire," was fully as puzzling, till Gifford gave us a solution. -"Dun is in the mire! then, is a Christmas gambol, at which I have often played. A log of wood is brought into the midst of the room: this is dun (the cart-horse), and a cry is raised, that he is stuck in the mire. Two of the company advance, either with or without ropes, to draw him out. After repeated attempts, they find themselves unable to do it, and call for more assistance.— The game continues till all the company take part in it, when dun is extricated of course; and the merriment arises from the awkward and affected efforts of the rustics to lift the log, and from sundry arch contrivances to let the ends of it fall on one another's toes. This will not be thought a very exquisite amusement; and yet I have seen much honest mirth at it, and have been far more entertained with the ludicrous contortions of pretended struggles, than with the real writhing, the dark scowl of avarice and envy exhibited by the same description of persons, in the genteeler amusement of cards, the universal substitute for all our ancient sports."-(Ben Jonson's Works, vol. vii. page 282.)

19 SCENE IV." Sir reverence."

This was the old mode of apology for the introduction of a free expression. Mercutio says, he will draw Romeo from the "mire of this love," and uses, parenthetically, the ordinary form of apology for speaking so profanely of love. Gifford has given us a quotation from an old tract on the origin of tobacco, which is exactly in point:-"The time hath been when if we did speak of this loathsome stuff, tobacco, we used to put a 'Sir reverence before, but we forget our good manners." Ir another note on the same word, Gifford says, There is much filthy stuff on this simple interjection, of which neither Steevens nor Malone appears to have known the import, in the notes to Romeo and Juliet."-(Ben Jonson's Works, vol. vi. page 149; vol. vii. page 337.)

20 SCENE IV." This is that very Mab

That plats the manes of horses in the night." We extract the following amusing note from Douce's Illustrations:

"This line alludes to a very singular superstition, not yet forgotten in some parts of the country. It was believed that certain malignant spirits, whose delight was to wander in groves and pleasant places assumed occasionally the likenesses of women clothed in white; that in this character they sometimes haunted stables in the night-time, carrying in their hands tapers of wax, which they dropped on the horses' manes, thereby plaiting them in inextricable knots, to the great annoyance of the poor animals, and the vexation of their masters. These hags are mentioned in the works of William Auvergne, Bishop of Paris, in the thirteenth century. There is a very uncommon old print by Hans Burgmair, relating to this subject. A witch enters the stable with a lighted torch; and pre

viously to the operation of entangling the horse's mane, practises her enchantments on the groom, who is lying asleep on his back, and apparently influenced by the night-mare. The belemnites, or elf-stones, were regarded as charms against the last-mentioned disease, and against evil spirits of all kinds; but the cerauniæ, or botuli, and all perforated flint-stones, were not only used for the same purpose, but more particularly for the protection of horses and other cattle, by suspending them in stables, or tying them round the necks of the animals."

The next line,

"And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs," seems to be unconnected with the preceding, and to mark a superstition, which, as Dr. Warburton has observed, may have originated from the plica Polonica, which was supposed to be the operation

of the wicked elves, whence the clotted hair was called elf-locks, and elf-knots. Thus Edgar talks of "elfing all his hair in knots."

21 SCENE V.-" Remove the court cupboard."

The court cupboard was the ornamental sideboard, set out with salvers and beakers on days of festivity. Wo have in a play of 1599, 66 accom. plished the court cupboard;" and in another by Chapman, in 1606, "Here shall stand my court cupboard with its furniture of plate." In Italy, the art of Benvenuto Cellini was lavished upon the exquisite ornaments of the court cupboard. In the following engraving is exhibited one of the rich court cupboards of the period of Elizabeth, set out with many of those vessels of antique Italian workmanship which had found their way into this country.

Garden.

(A) has pronounce; the subsequent quartos and the first folio, provaunt; the second folio, couply. Steevens desired to retain provant, to provide, from the noun provant, provision.

b All the old copies have " Abraham." Upton changed it to "Adam," which modern editors have adopted, supposing the allusion, "he that shot so trim," was to the Adam Bell of the old Ballad, to whom Shakspere has also alluded in Much Ado about Nothing: "he that hits me, let him be clapped on the shoulder and called Adam." But the

He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;

a

The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.

I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes,
By her high forehead, and her scarlet lip,
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh,
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,
That in thy likeness thou appear to us.

Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him: 't would anger him

To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand
Till she had laid it, and conjur'd it down;
That were some spite: my invocation
Is fair and honest, and, in his mistress' name,
I conjure only but to raise up him.

Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these

trees,

To be consorted with the humorous night:

word "trim," which is the reading of the first quarto (the
subsequent editions giving us "true"), is distinctly derived
from the "Ballad of King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid."
"The blinded boy, that shoots so trim,
From heaven down did hie,

He drew a dart, and shot at him,
In place where he did lie."

With all submission to the opinion of Percy, who adopts the reading of Upton, we think that the change of Abraham into Adam was uncalled for. Abraham conveys another idea than that of Cupid's archery, which is strongly enough conveyed. The " Abraham" Cupid is the cheat-the "Abraham man"-of our old statutes.

a The ape-an expression of kindly familiarity, applied to a young man.

b Humorous, dewy,-vaporous.

Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a wound.

[JULIET appears above, at a window. But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks!

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!-
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.-
It is my lady: O, it is my love:
O, that she knew she were!-

She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that? Her eye discourses, I will answer it.

I am too bold, 't is not to me she speaks :

a There are two lines here omitted in the text of Steevens' edition, which Malone has restore to the text. The lines are gross, but the grossness is obscure, and, if it were understood, could scarcely be called corrupting. The freedoms of Mercutio arise out of his dramatic character;-his exuberant spirits betray him into levities which are constantly opposed to the intellectual refinement which rises above such baser matter. But Pope rejected these lines -Pope, who, in the Rape of the Lock, has introduced one couplet, at least, that would have disgraced the age of Elizabeth. We do not print the two lines of Shakspere, for they can only interest the verbal critic. But we distinctly record their omission. As far as we have been able to trace-and we have gone through the old editions with an especial reference to this matterthese two lines constitute the only passage in the original editions which has been omitted by modern editors. With this exception, there is not a passage in Shakspere which is not reprinted in every edition except that of Mr. Bowdler. And yet the writer in Lardner's Cyclopædia (Lives of Literary and Scientific Men), has ventured to make the following assertion: "Whoever has looked into the original editions of his dramas will be disgusted with the obscenity of his allusions. They absolutely teem with the grossest improprieties -more gross by far than can be found in any contemporary dramatist." The insinuation that the original editions contain improprieties that are not to be found in modern editions, is difficult to characterise without using expressions that had better be avoided.

b Be not a votary to Diana,-the

"Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,"

of Ben Jonson's beautiful hymn.

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those
stars,

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright,
That birds would sing and think it were not
night.

Sce, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Jul.

Rom.

Ah me!

She speaks

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven
Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

a

Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou
Romeo?

Deny thy father, and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? [Aside.

b

Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!" What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other named would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes, Without that title :-Romeo, doff thy name; And for thy name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

Rom.

е

I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.

Jul. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night,

So stumblest on my counsel?

Rom.

By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am;

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;

Had I it written I would tear the word.

Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words

a

Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound; Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?

b

Rom. Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike." Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me? and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb;
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If
any of my kinsmen find thee here.

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out :
And what love can do, that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine eye,

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here.

e

f

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes; And, but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate, Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire;

He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my

Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown, and be perverse, aud say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour
light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true That those that have more cunning to be strange.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me;
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,b That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,— Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant

moon

That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
Rom. What shall I swear by?
Jul.
Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Rom.
If my heart's dear love-
Jul. Well, do not swear: 3 although I joy in
thee,

I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be,
Ere one can say-It lightens. Sweet, good
night!

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we