The Shakespeare-Expositor: An Aid to the Perfect Understanding of Shakespeare's Plays

All's Well, iii. 4.

Ant. and Cleop. v. 1.

In the case of final riming couplets the first line may be short, but never the second.

19.

Nothing is more common in the works of our old dramatists than malarrangement of the text, some lines being too long, some too short; but among them they are sure to contain the requisite number of feet. Editors have often taken the most justifiable liberty of rearranging the text; but on other occasions they have exclaimed against those who have followed their example. In this case, however, the only limit to the discretion of an editor is that of not putting—except in the cases above mentioned—more or less than five or six feet in a line. I must not omit to observe that editors have done injury to many passages, by the decasyllabic superstition which I have already noticed.

I will give one instance of a place where a most slight rearrangement gives perfect harmony to what has been a stumblingblock to editors:—

1 Hen. IV. iii. 1.

The last line, it will be seen, is the merest prose, but transfer "him" to it from the preceding line, and we at once get harmonious verse.

The following passages are thus arranged in the original editions:—

Mids. Night's Dream, v. 1.

Temp. ii. 1.

Those, then, who would refuse an editor the right of rearrangement are bound, if they would be consistent, to retain such passages as these unaltered. I may here make the boast that mine is the only edition of these plays in which the text is strictly metrical throughout.

20.

Beside all those forms of verse, the plays of our old dramatists contain a large quantity of prose. But it is only prose to the eye; for it is in reality as metrical as what is printed in separate metric lines, consisting of lines of five or six feet, each of two or three syllables, but printed continuously like prose. I therefore denominate it "Metric Prose" as being metric in substance, prose in form, and as, moreover, it is termed prose both by Chaucer and Shakespeare, probably from its less elevated character and from its being written continuously and without rime or alliteration. I am disposed to regard the former as being its inventor; and perhaps his reason for writing it continuously may have been merely the wish to save paper. We know, from M. de Maucroix's letter to Boileau, that the French poet Racan, whose poems were of course in rime, also wrote them continuously, and, as it would appear, for the same reason, though paper must have been less valuable in his time. As, however, the Anglo-Saxon and early English alliterative verse was written continuously, Chaucer may have been only following an established mode. It may be remarked that the poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures is also written and printed continuously.

Surely it is no egotism to state a plain truth! I therefore say that, as far as I know, I am myself the very first who, for the last century or more, has discerned the existence of this metric prose. My discovery was very gradual. I first recognized it in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and, advancing step by step, I at length arrived at the certainty that for three centuries and a half, from Chaucer and Wickliffe to Dryden and Tillotson, almost every work claiming to be regarded as a literary composition is in this form. Such are histories from Sir T. More to Clarendon, translations, controversial and philosophical works, as those of Hooker, Brown, Taylor, and Cudworth, versions of the Scriptures from Wickliffe to the authorized one inclusive, sermons, inclusive of those of Barrow, South, and Tillotson, the Liturgy, except the Creeds, Te Deum, and Catechism, all prefaces, dedications and letters of compliment, &c. The chief exceptions were Hall and the other chroniclers, Purchas, Hakluyt, Fuller, Bunyan, Ludlow, L'Estrange, and Mrs. Hutchinson. The Ecclesiastical Policy, The Liberty of Prophesying, and The Areopagitica, for example, are as decidedly metrical as The Paradise Lost, only admitting more trisyllabic feet, and being printed continuously. Hence, too, in a great measure, arises the charm which we find in the prose of our old writers, and of which we have been ignorant of the secret source; as when Cowper styles Sidney "warbler of poetic prose."

I do not, however, say that this prose was read as verse, with a slight elevation of tone at the end of each metric line. It was, I think, read as prose, as Cowper of course read the Arcadia; but the metre diffused a secret charm through it, which could be felt even by those who were ignorant of the cause. How easy, by the way, must this mode of writing prose have made verse-making to the writers of those days! and how rapidly that prose could be written is proved by the assertion of Sir Kenelm Digby, who says that in the space of twenty-four hours he sent out and bought the Religio Medici, read it through, and wrote his Observations on it, which fill upwards of seventy printed pages, and are metrical—a fact almost inconceivable.

The only writer of the last century who, as far as I am aware, used this metric prose—for we seek it in vain in Addison, Pope, Johnson, Gibbon, &c.—is the historian Robertson, of which fact Mr. Buckle seems to have had a dim conception; for he speaks of his "measured style." It is a question where Robertson got it; for he could hardly have invented it, and I think it must have been in Knox, Spottiswoode, and the Scottish writers of the two preceding centuries, who all wrote like their English contemporaries. At the same period, however, his countryman Macpherson invented a new kind of metric prose for his 'Poems of Ossian.' Even the present century presents us with an instance in Mr. Lecky's eloquent 'History of Rationalism,' which is as metrical as the Areopagitica of Milton. Possibly my own remarks on the subject in 'Notes and Queries' may have directed his attention to it.

Gascoigne's comedy of The Supposes, performed in 1566, a translation from the Italian of Ariosto, appears to have been the first play written in this metric prose; Lyly also, somewhat later, wrote in it his courtly comedies; and it gradually, combined with blank verse, got entire possession of the scene. The last, I believe, to use it was Dryden. Ordinary prose—probably in imitation of the French and Italian comic drama—seems to have been first used after the Restoration, in the comedies of Killigrew, Shadwell, Wycherley, Etheridge, Sedley, and other dramatists of that period.

It is rather remarkable that a union of verse and prose, similar to this union of regular and irregular verse of our drama, occurs also in that of India. Sir William Jones tells us, in his preface to Sacontala, that the Hindoo plays "are all in verse where the dialogue is elevated, and in prose where it is familiar." Coleridge, who had not the slightest suspicion of the existence of metre in the dramatic prose, makes the following just remarks in a note on Fletcher's Custom of the Country:—"In all comic metres the gulping of short syllables and the abbreviation of syllables ordinarily long, by the rapid pronunciation of eagerness and vehemence, are not so much a licence as a law—a faithful copy of nature." This I think completely justifies the frequent use of the syncope and synæresis in metric prose.

The same critic again says of Milton's noble conclusion of his treatise 'Of Reformation in England,' "Written in the fervour of his youthful imagination, in a high poetic strain that wanted metre only to become a lyrical poem." He felt, but did not see, that the metre actually was there.

The fact of this prose being metric causes us sometimes to doubt whether a passage should be printed as verse or as prose; and sometimes what is verse in one edition is prose in another. Thus Mercutio's celebrated account of Queen Mab, in Romeo and Juliet, which is most perfect decasyllabic verse, is properly printed as such in the 4to, 1597, while in all the subsequent early editions it is made prose; and prose it would probably have been at this day had no copy of that edition remained. On the other hand, most modern editors have most improperly printed the Nurse's speeches in the preceding scene as verse, while they are, and rightly, prose in all the original editions. An editor is, I think, at perfect liberty to use his judgement in this matter.

The following extracts, in which the termination of each line is marked, will enable the reader to judge of the truth of my theory. I must at the same time remind him that such contractions as I'll, I've, are rare in these prose scenes, such being left to the knowledge and skill of the actor or reader.

"As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion. | He bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns; | and, as thou sayest, charged my brother on his blessing | to breed me well; and there begins my sadness. | My brother Jacques he keeps at school, and report | speaks goldenly of his profit; for my part he keeps me | rustically at home, or, to speak more properly, | stays me here at home unkept; for call you that keeping | for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling | of an ox? His horses are bred better; for besides that | they are fair with their feeding, they are taught their manage, | and to that end riders dearly hired; but I, his brother,| gain nothing under him but growth, for the which | his animals on his dunghills are as much | bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he | so plentifully gives me, the something that Nature gave me | his countenance seems to take from me. He lets me feed | with his hinds, bars me the place of a brother, and as much as | in him lies mines my gentility with my education. | This it is, Adam, that grieves me; and the spirit of my father, | which I think is within me, begins to mutiny | against this servitude. I will no longer endure it, | though yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it."—As You Like It, i. 1.

"I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation | prevent your discovery, and your secresy | to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late |—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, | foregone all custom of exercises, and indeed | it goes so heavily with my disposition, | that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile | promontory, this most excellent canopy, | the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, | this majestical roof, fretted with golden fire, | why, it appeareth nothing to me but | a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. | What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! | how infinite in faculties! in form and moving | how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! | in apprehension how like a god! | the beauty of the world! the paragon | of animals! And yet to me what is | this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; | no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so."—Hamlet, ii. 2.

"Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo.—Without his roe, | like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! | Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in; | Laura to his lady was a kitchen-wench; | marry, she had a better love to be-rime her; | Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gypsy; | Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisby | a grey eye or so, but not to the purpose. | Signior Romeo, bon jour. There's a French salutation | to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit | fairly last night."—Romeo and Juliet, ii. 4.

"Nay, sure, | he's not in hell. He's in Arthur's bosom, if ever | man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, | and went away as it had been any christom child. | 'A parted even just between twelve and one, | even at the turning of the tide. For after I saw him | fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile | upon his finger's end, I knew there was but one way; | for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. | How now, Sir John! quoth I. What, man! be of good cheer! | So 'a cried out God, God, God! three or four times. | Now I, to comfort him, bid him he should not think of God; | I hoped there was no need to trouble himself | with any such thoughts yet. So 'a bade me lay | more clothes on his feet. I put my hand into the bed, | and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone. | Then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was | as cold as any stone."—King Henry V. ii. 3.

COMEDIES.

For 'for,' the judicious correction of 2nd folio, the 1st has so.—See on L. L. L. i. 1; 1 Hen. IV. i. 3.

See Introd. p. 61. For the first 'help,' Pope read life; I read ransom, a word already used by the Duke. If the error should be in the second 'help,' we might, with Malone, read means; which, however, is rather feeble.

For 'no' we should surely, with Rowe, read not.

Sc. 2.

Mr. Barron Field proposed failing, which may be right.

'Clock' is Pope's correction for cook of the folio, which, however, may be right after all; for the cook used to strike on the dresser to give notice that the dinner was ready.

Act II.

Sc. 1.

Hanmer properly added home, which was plainly omitted.

To give sense to this passage I read in the second line bide; in the fourth, with Warburton, wear, with Heath so a for 'no'; in which two I had thus been anticipated. The punctuation given here is my own. I am dubious of 'others' in the third line, for which we might read fingers, or some other word.

Sc. 2.

For 'jest' Mr. Dyce reads jet, referring to Rich. III. ii. 4, Tit. Andron. ii. 1; and "It is hard when Englishmen's patience must be thus jetted upon by strangers."—Play of Sir T. More, p. 2.

For the first 'them' Theobald properly read men.

For 'trying' Pope read tyring by simply transposing, Rowe trimming. I rather prefer the former, as tyring is attiring, and 'attire' is head-dress; but whether used of a man or not I am not certain.—See my note on Milton's On Time, v. 21.

Quite the contrary; for she would rather "live an unstain'd life." R. and J. iv. 1. Theobald read unstain'd, but I prefer undistain'd. The printer was more likely to omit un (see on Cymb. i. 7) than to change it to di. There is also an agreeable effect on the ear produced by the accents falling on un in both words. In all these plays lines frequently begin with an anapæst.

For 'freed,' which can hardly be right, Pope read favour'd, Capell, much better, offer'd.

To complete the measure, the editor of 2nd folio inserted elves, and before 'sprites'; from which Rowe made elvish 'sprites.' For 'owls' Theobald read ouphes; but that term occurs only in The Merry Wives. I read—

Theobald also made this obvious and necessary transposition of 'I not.'

Act III.

Sc. 1.

Malone also saw that something was lost. We might read—

'Her' is Rowe's correction of your of the folio.

To be merry in spite of mirth is like laughing in spite of laughter, dying in spite of death, living in spite of life—pure nonsense. With great confidence I therefore made the correction my wife, and so gave it in my Edition. Meeting, however, in the Cambridge Edition with Theobald's correction wrath—for Editors had ignored it—I saw at once that the poet must have written my wrath (see Introd. p. 67), which resembles 'mirth' both in form and sound, and I have therefore adopted it without hesitation. Like a similar correction in Twelfth Night, i. 1, I regard it as absolutely certain.

Sc. 2.

So Theobald, in accordance with the rime, read for ruinate of the folio.

Here again we have Theobald's correction of 'but' for not.

I have printed 'hears' for the 'hairs' of the folio, as it rimes with 'tears,' and was the constant pronunciation of Chaucer, and frequently of Spenser; and in his early plays Shakespeare indulged in riming archaisms of this kind occasionally. We are to recollect that this play was not printed till thirty years after it had been written, and by that time hair had been established as the sole orthography. The matter is, however, put out of dispute by the Poems, in which Shakespeare himself spells it hear when riming with tear and ear. 'Bed' is the correction of 2nd folio for bud. Mr. Dyce proposed bride.

For 'am' Capell read, I think rightly, aim, and Singer quotes "I make my changes aim one certain end."—Drayton Leg. of Rob. Duke of Normandy.

The folio has is for 'and'; the correction is Thirlby's.

Act IV.

Sc. 1.

For 'it' I think we should read we.

Sc. 2.

This structure seems strange, but it was in use:—

Rich. III. i. 3.

Twelfth Night, ii. 2.

For 'Sweet,' which is rather free in the mouth of Dromio, Collier's folio reads Swift; we might also conjecture Speed. The truth, however, seems to be that mistress has been omitted after 'Sweet.'

There is something evidently lost here, riming with 'steel.' It may have been by the heels, or laid by the heels, alluding to 'Tartar Limbo'; but still, or at his will, seems preferable.

For 'fairy' Theobald proposed fury, and we have "O, my good lord, deliver me from these furies" (i.e. bailiffs).—Massinger, Fatal Dowry, v. 1. "Fiends, fairies, hags that fight in beds of steel."—Peel, Battle of Aleazar, where Mr. Dyce reads furies. In Jonson's Poetaster (iii. 1) the Lictors are termed furies.

Sc. 3.

For 'or' we should read and, as usual. Mr. Dyce reads so.

Sc. 4.

The change of pronouns is so frequent that I think it would be simpler to read your for 'his' than as is usually done make 'my bones,' etc. an aside.

Act V.

Sc. 1.

See Introd. p. 55. In my Edit. only is at the end.

We should probably read his for 'her,' as kinsman is the antecedent.

As 'his' was probably written 's, it escaped the printer's eye.

I would read sore or sour for 'sorry'; Collier's folio proposes solemn. The 1st folio has depth for 'death.' The correction was made in the 3rd.

Mr. Dyce properly reads scotch; for, as he observes, the very same misprint occurs in Macb. iii. 2, and Knt. of Burning Pestle, iii. 4.

For 'These' we should perhaps read They.

Editors ought to be ashamed of themselves for not seeing that 'arose' is the same as 'arisen.' See Introd. p. 70.

I read this passage thus:

All the corrections here made are my own; and yet in all but one I had been anticipated! in been by 2nd folio; in until by Boaden; in here by Grant White; in felicity by Hanmer. In my Edition of these plays I have printed "Go ... come with me." The difference is unimportant. In the first line Theobald, followed by succeeding editors, read twenty-five; but such alterations are not to be allowed.

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.

Act I.

Sc. 1.

The folio has 'I love.' Pope made the obvious correction.

These last words are an addition by Theobald, and the context shows they had been lost.

Sc. 2.

'Lov'd ye' would rime better with 'mov'd me.'

As time and 'tune' were synonymous, perhaps the poet used the former, which would accord with 'rime.'

A syllable is wanting. Some read moneth, but that is not a Shakespearian form. We might also read 'unto' for 'to' but I prefer 'I see that you'; as I have given it in my Edition.

Sc. 3.

Act II.

Sc. 1.

A just and necessary addition of Collier's folio.

For 'hose,' apparently suggested by what went before, I should incline to read, with the Cambridge editors, shoes; or clothes might be better.

Sc. 3.

For 'she' Blackstone proposed shoe; better the shoe, as I have given it.

Sc. 4.

It seems to me that the best way to give sense to this passage is to take 'by' in the sense of beside, near. See Index s. v.

So it stands in the original. It need hardly be observed that the two first words must be transposed. It is also plain to me that a substantive has been lost after 'mine,' and none seems so likely to be the right word as eye, the conjecture of Warburton, and which seems to be omitted in the same manner in the last line of Son. cxiii.

L. L. L. v. 2.

Fletch. Maid in Mill, i. 2.

See also his Love's Pilgrimage, ii. 3. Steevens and others read 'her mine,' taking the latter as mien, a term not Shakespearian. (See on Mer. Wives, i. 3.) As there is still a syllable wanting, I would read 'Valentinès,' a mode of forming the genitive not unusual in our author's early plays.

Sc. 5.

That 'Padua' was the poet's word is proved by the metre, and the editors had no right to change it to Milan. 'By mine honesty' occurs in exactly the same manner in the play of Damon and Pitheas, with which Shakespeare was familiar.