11. siems. Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear I cannot agree with Dr. Johnson that a stride is always an action of violence, impetuosity, or tumult. Spenser uses the word in his Fairy Queen, B. IV, c. viii, and with no idea of violence annexed to it: "With easy steps so soft as foot could stride." And as an additional proof that a stride is not always a tu multuous effort, the following instance, from Harrington's translation of Ariosto, [1591] may be brought: "He takes a long and leisurable stride, "And longest on the hinder foot he staid; Orlando Furioso, 28th book, stanza 63. Whoever has been reduced to the necessity of finding his way about a house in the dark, must know that it is natural to take large strides, in order to feel before us whether we have a safe footing or not. The ravisher and murderer would naturally take such strides, not only on the same account, but that their steps might be fewer in number, and the sound of their feet be repeated as seldom as possible, Steevens Mr. Steevens's observation is confirmed by many instances that occur in our ancient poets. So, in a passage by J. Sylves ter, cited in England's Parnassus, 1600: Anon he stalketh with an easy stride, "By some clear river's lillie-paved side." Again, in our author's King Richard II: Nay rather every tedious stride I make Thus also the Roman poets: 66 vestigia furtim "Suspenso digitis fert taciturna gradu." Ovid. Fasts. "Passibus." Statius, Lib. X. It is observable that Shakspeare, when he has occasion, in his Rape of Lucrece, to describe the action here alluded to, uses a similar expression; and perhaps would have used the word stride, if he had not been fettered by the rhyme : "Into the chamber wickedly he stalks.” Plausible, however, as this emendation may appear, the old reading, sides, is, I believe, the true one; I have therefore ade hered to it, on the same principle on which I have uniformly proceeded thoughout my edition, that of leaving the original text undisturbed, whenever it could be justified either by comparing our author with himself or with contemporary writers. The following passage in Marlowe's translation of Ovid's Ele.. gies, Svo. no date, but printed about 1598, adds support to the reading of the old copy ›- Thy very stones prate of my where-about, "I saw when forth a tired lover went, Again, in Martial: Tu tenebris gaudes; me ludere, teste lucerna, Our poet may himself also furnish us with a confrmation of the old reading; for in Troilas and Cressida we find"You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins 66 Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors.” It may likewise be observed that Falstaff, in the fifth Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor, says to Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page, Divide me like & bride-buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself," &c. Falstaff certainly did not think them, like those of Ovid's lover, past service; having met one of the ladies by assignation. I believe, however, a line has been lost after the words "stealthy pace." Malone. Mr. Malone's reasons, &c. for this supposition, (on account of their length) are given at the conclusion of the play, with a reference to the foregoing observations. How far a Latinism, adopted in the English version of a Roman poet; or the mention of loins, (which no dictionary acknowledges as a synonyme to sides) can justify Mr. Malone's restoration, let the judicious reader determine. Falstaff, dividing himself as a buck, very naturally says he will give away his best joints, and keep the worst for himself. A side of venison is at once an established term, and the least elegant part of the carcase so divided-But of what use could sides, in their Ovidian sense, have been to Falstaff, when he had already parted with his baunches? It is difficult to be serious on this occasion. I may therefore be pardoned if I observe that Tarquin, just as he pleased, might have walked with moderate steps, or lengthened them into strides; but, when we are told that he carried his "sides" with him, it is natural to ask how he could have gone any where without them. Nay, further, However sides, (according to Mr. Malone's interpretation of the word) might have proved efficient in Lucretia's bed chamber, in that of Duncan they could answer no such purpose, as the lover and the murderer succeed by the exertion of very different organs. I am, in short, of the Fool's opinion in King Lear---- "That going should be used with feet," and, consequently, that sides are out of the question. Such restorations of superannuated mistakes, put our author into the condition of Cibber's Lady Dainty, who, having been cured of her disorders, one of her physicians says," Then I'll make ber go over them again." Steevens. 8 And take the present horror from the time, [A bell rings. With Tarquin's ravishing &c.] The justness of this similitude is not very obvious. But a stanza, in his poem of Tarquin and Lucrece, will explain it :. "Now stole upon the time the dead of night, No noise but owls' and wolves' dead-boding cries; Warburton Thou sure and firm-set earth,] The old copy-Thou Sore &c. which, though an evident corruption, directs us to the reading I have ventured to substitute in its room. So, in Act IV, sc. iii. "Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure." Steevens. which they may walk, Corrected by Mr. Rowe. Malone. Steevens. 7 Thy very stones prate of my where-about,] The following passage in a play which has been frequently mentioned, and which Langbaine says was very popular in the time of queen Elizabeth, A Warning for faire Women, 1599, perhaps suggested this thought: Mountains will not suffice to cover it, "If nothing else, yet will the very stones "That lie within the street, cry out for vengeance, Malone. So, as Dr. Farmer observes, in Churchyard's Choise: "The stepps I tread, shall tell me my offence." Steevense And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.] i. e. lest the noise from the stones take away from this midnight season that present horror which suits so well with what is going to be acted in it. What was the horror he means? Silence, than which nothing can be more horrid to the prepetrator of an atrocious design. This shows a great knowledge of human nature. Warburton. Whether to take horror from the time means not rather to catch it as communicated, than to deprive the time of horror, deserves to be considered. Johnson. The latter is surely the true meaning. Macbeth would have othing break through the universal silence that added such I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.1 horror to the night, as suited well with the bloody deed he was about to perform. Mr. Burke, in his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, observes, that "all general privations are great, because they are all terrible;" and, with other things, he gives silence as an instance, illustrating the whole by that remarkable passage in Virgil, where, amidst all the images of terror that could be united, the circumstance of silence is particularly dwelt upon: "Dii quibus imperium est animarum umbræque silentes, "Et Chaos et Phlegethon, loca nocte silentia lâte." When Statius, in the fifth book of the Thebaid, describes the Lemnian massacre, his frequent notice of the silence and solitude, both before and after the deed, is striking in a wonderful degree: "Conticuere domus," &c. and when the same poet enumerates the terrors to which Chiron had familiarized his pupil, he subjoins nec ad vaste trepidare silentia sylvæ." Achilleid 11, 391. Again, when Tacitus describes the distress of the Roman army, under Cæcina, he concludes by observing, “ducemque terruit dira quies." See Annal. I, LXV. In all the preceding passages, as Pliny remarks, concerning places of worship, silentia ipsa adoramus. Steevens. In confirmation of Steevens's ingenious note on this passage, it may be observed, that one of the circumstances of horror enumerated by Macbeth is,-Nature seems dead. M. Mason. So also, in the second Eneid 66 vestigia retro "Observata sequor per noctem, et fumine lustro, "Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent.” Dryden's well-known lines, which exposed him to so much ridicule, "An horrid stillness first invades the ear, "And in that silence we the tempest hear," show, that he had the same idea of the awfulness of silence as our poet, Malone. ? Whiles I threat; be lives; Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.]. Here is evidently a false concord; but it must not be corrected, for it is necessary to the rhyme. Nor is this the only place in which Shakspeare has sacrificed grammar to rhyme, In Cymbeling, the song in Cloten's serenade runs thus : Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, "His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. [Ex Still Sam Scene "SCENE IL The same. Enter Lady MACBETH. Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire: It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, And Romeo says to Friar Lawrence: "Within thy help and holy physick lies." M. Mason the bell invites me.] So, in Cymbeline: "The time inviting thee?" Steevens. it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to bell.] Thus Raleigh, speaking of love, in England's Helicon, 4to. 1600: "It is perhaps that sauncing bell, "That toules all in to beauen or bell. Sauncing is probably a mistake for sacring, or saints' belle originally, perhaps, written (with the Saxon genitive), saintis bell. In Hudibras (as Mr. Ritson observes to me) we find "The only saints' bell that rings all in." Steevens. Saunce bell (still so called at Oxford) is the small bell which hangs in the window of a church tower, and is always rung when the clergyman enters the church, and also at funerals. In some places it is called tolling all in, i. e. into church. Harris. 3 It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night.] Shakspeare has here improved on an image he probably found in Spenser's Fairf Queen, B. V, c. vi, 27: The native belman of the night, "The bird that warned Peter of his fall, "First rings his silver bell teach sleepy wight." Steevens It was the owl that shriekħd; the fatal bellman,] So, in King Richard III: "Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death!" Malen |