THE WORKS

OF

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

THE WORKS

OF

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

EDITED BY

WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M.A.
FELLOW AND TUTOR OF TRINITY COLLEGE, AND PUBLIC ORATOR IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE;

AND WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT, M.A.
LIBRARIAN OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

VOLUME III.

Cambridge and London:

MACMILLAN AND CO.
1863.

CAMBRIDGE:
PRINTED BY C. J. CLAY, M.A.
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.

Note:

Hover the mouse over words to identify links.

CONTENTS.

	PAGE
The Preface	vii
The Taming of The Shrew	3
Notes to The Taming of The Shrew	101
All's Well That Ends Well	109
Notes to All's Well That Ends Well	215
Twelfth Night; or, What You Will	223
Notes to Twelfth Night; or, What You Will	311
The Winter's Tale	317
Notes to The Winter's Tale	429

PREFACE.

The four plays printed in this volume appeared for the first time in the Folio of 1623, and in the same order in which they are here given.

Of The Taming of the Shrew alone is there any Quarto edition. The title-page of this, as it appears in Capell's copy, is as follows:

A wittie | and pleasant | Comedie | Called | The Taming of the Shrew. | As it was acted by his Maiesties | Seruants at the Blacke Friers | and the Globe. | Written by Will. Shakespeare. | London, | Printed by W. S. for John Smethwicke, and are to be | sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstones Church- | yard vnder the Diall: | 1631. |

From a minute comparison of this Quarto edition with the First Folio, extending to points which are necessarily left unrecorded in our notes, we have come to the conclusion that the Quarto was printed from the Folio. It is necessary to mention this, because Mr Collier, in the second edition of his Shakespeare, maintains that the Quarto was printed long before 1623, perhaps as early as 1607 or 1609; that its publication "had been in some way 'stayed' by the intervention of the author, on behalf of himself and the company to which he belonged; and that, having in consequence been laid aside for a number of years, some copies of it, remaining in the hands of Smithwicke the stationer, were issued in 1631, as if it had been then first published." Mr Collier also conjectures that the title-page was 'struck off long subsequent to the printing of the body of the comedy to which it is attached.' That this could not have been the case appears from an examination of Capell's copy, the only one known to us which has the title-page perfect. In this the title forms part of the first quire, and has not been inserted. The paper on which it is printed is the same as that used for the rest of the play, the wire-marks corresponding throughout. The passages from the Quarto and Folio which Mr Collier quotes in support of his theory seem to us to make strongly against it.

We have not reprinted the old play called The Taming of a Shrew, on which Shakespeare founded his comedy, because it is manifestly by another hand. It is referred to in the notes as (Q).

The 'Long MS.,' to which we have referred, is a copy of the Second Folio in the Library of Pembroke College, Cambridge, which was formerly in the possession of Dr Roger Long, Master of the College from 1733 to 1770. It contains marginal emendations, some from Theobald and Warburton, marked 'T.' and 'W.' respectively; some to which the initial 'L.' is affixed, and some without any initial letter at all. Such of these as could not be traced to any earlier source we have quoted as 'Long conj. MS.' or 'Long MS.' For permission to use this volume we are indebted to the kindness of the Rev. C. H. Parez.

Mr Keightley has, with great liberality, sent for our use the MS. of his forthcoming work 'The Shakespeare Expositor.' We beg to return him our best thanks.

To the number of those whom we have to thank for kind assistance we add with pleasure the names of the Rev. G. B. Bubier, the Rev. N. M. Ferrers, and Dr Meredith of Quebec.

W. G. C.
W. A. W.

ADDENDA AND CORRIGENDA.

The Taming of the Shrew.

ii. 1. 108. To] Unto S. Walker conj.

iv. 1. 36, 37. and ... thou wilt] is ... will thaw Badham conj. In note on line 37 dele will thaw Anon. conj.

iv. 5. 22. Add to note, so it shall be, so Mitford conj.

iv. 5. 77. Have to] Have at Jervis conj.

All's Well that Ends Well.

i. 1. 97. In the note, for Williams read Badham.

ii. 1. 170. maiden's] maid's S. Walker conj.

iii. 2. 108. Add to note, move the still-reeking Jervis conj.

iv. 2. 38. Add to note, make ropes ... snare or wake hopes ... scare Bubier conj.

iv. 3. 94. Add to note, he has Steevens.

iv. 3. 96. For he has read has, and in the note read has] ha's Ff. he has Steevens.

The Winter's Tale.

i. 2. 147, 148. Add to note, Her. How my lord? Pol. What ... brother?

ii. 1. 40. Add to note, drink deep Long MS. Mr Staunton's conjecture should be drink deep o't.

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ [1].

A Lord. }

Christopher Sly, a tinker. } Persons in the Induction

Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and Servants. }

Baptista, a rich gentleman of Padua.

Vincentio, an old gentleman of Pisa.

Lucentio, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.

Petruchio[2], a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katharina.

Gremio, }

Hortensio, } suitors to Bianca.

Tranio, }

Biondello, } servants to Lucentio.

Grumio [3], }

Curtis [4], } servants to Petruchio.

A Pedant.

Katharina, the shrew, }

Bianca, } daughters to Baptista.

Widow.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio.

Scene: Padua, and Petruchio's country house.

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.

INDUCTION.

Scene I. Before an alehouse on a heath.

Enter Hostess and Sly.

Sly. I'll pheeze you, in faith.

Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly. Y'are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in

the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore

paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa!

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy

cold bed, and warm thee.

Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough.

[Exit.

Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him

by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and

kindly. [Falls asleep.

Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:

Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd;

And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.

Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good

At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault?

I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

First Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;

He cried upon it at the merest loss

And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:

Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,

I would esteem him worth a dozen such.

But sup them well and look unto them all:

To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

First Hun. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,

This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.

Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!

Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!

Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.

What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,

Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,

A most delicious banquet by his bed,

And brave attendants near him when he wakes,

Would not the beggar then forget himself?

First Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.

Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he waked.

Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.

Then take him up and manage well the jest:

Carry him gently to my fairest chamber

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:

Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters

And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:

Procure me music ready when he wakes,

To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;

And if he chance to speak, be ready straight

And with a low submissive reverence

Say 'What is it your honour will command?'

Let one attend him with a silver basin

Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers;

Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,

And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?'

Some one be ready with a costly suit

And ask him what apparel he will wear;

Another tell him of his hounds and horse,

And that his lady mourns at his disease:

Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;

And when he says he is, say that he dreams,

For he is nothing but a mighty lord.

This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs:

It will be pastime passing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modesty.

First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,

As he shall think by our true diligence

He is no less than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him up gently and to bed with him;

And each one to his office when he wakes.

[Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds.

Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: [Exit Servingman.

Belike, some noble gentleman that means,

Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

Re-enter Servingman.

How now! who is it?

Serv. An't please your honour, players

That offer service to your lordship.

Lord. Bid them come near.

Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.

Players. We thank your honour.

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?

A Player. So please your lordship to accept our duty.

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,

Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son:

'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:

I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part

Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd.

A Player. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.

Lord. Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.

Well, you are come to me in happy time;

The rather for I have some sport in hand

Wherein your cunning can assist me much.

There is a lord will hear you play to-night:

But I am doubtful of your modesties;

Lest over-eyeing of his odd behaviour,—

For yet his honour never heard a play,—

You break into some merry passion

And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,

If you should smile he grows impatient.

A Player. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,

Were he the veriest antic in the world.

100

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,

And give them friendly welcome every one:

Let them want nothing that my house affords.

[Exit one with the Players.

Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page,

And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:

105

That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber;

And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance.

Tell him from me, as he will win my love,

He bear himself with honourable action,

Such as he hath observed in noble ladies

110

Unto their lords, by them accomplished:

Such duty to the drunkard let him do

With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,

And say, 'What is't your honour will command,

Wherein your lady and your humble wife

115

May show her duty and make known her love?'

And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,

Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd

To see her noble lord restored to health,

120

Who for this seven years hath esteemed him

No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:

And if the boy have not a woman's gift

To rain a shower of commanded tears,

An onion will do well for such a shift,

125

Which in a napkin being close convey'd

Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.

See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst:

Anon I'll give thee more instructions. [Exit a Servingman.

I know the boy will well usurp the grace,

130

Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman:

I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,

And how my men will stay themselves from laughter

When they do homage to this simple peasant.

I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence

135

May well abate the over-merry spleen

Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt.

LINENOTES:

[Induction.] Pope. om. Ff Q. See note (i).

[Scene I. Before ...] Theobald. A Hedge Ale-house. Capell.

[Enter ...] Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly. Ff Q.

[1] pheeze] fese (Q).

[2] stocks] F3 F4. stockes F1 Q.] stokes F2.

[4] came in] came Rowe (ed. 1).

[5] paucas] paucus F4.

[7] Go by, Jeronimy] goe by Ieronimie Q. go by S. Ieronimie Ff (Ieronimy F2. Jeronimy F3 F4). go by, Jeronimo Theobald. 'go by,' says Jeronimy Steevens (Capell conj.). go—by S. Jeronimy Knight. See note (ii).

[9] thirdborough] Theobald. head-borough Ff Q.

[10] [Exit.] Rowe. om. Ff Q.

[13] [Falls asleep.] Ff Q. Falls from off his bench, and sleeps. Capell. Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. Malone.

[14] Scene II. Pope.

Horns winded.] Winde hornes. Ff Q.

[15] Brach] Leech Hanmer. Bathe Johnson conj. Breathe Mitford conj. Brace Becket conj. Trash Singer.

Brach ... emboss'd;] (Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss'd,) Grant White. Brach, Merriman, the ... emboss'd Johnson. (Back Merriman!—the ... emboss'd) Anon. conj.

[23] better] om. Q.

[30, 31] Printed as prose in Ff Q, as verse first by Rowe (ed. 2).

[37] bed] side Anon. conj.

[41, 42] waked. Lord. Even ... fancy. Then] waked, Even ... fancy. Lord. Then Anon. conj.

[46] Balm ... head] Bath ... hide Capell conj.

in] with Rowe (ed. 2).

[55] the third] a third Rowe.

[62] And ... he is,] Ff Q. And when he says he is poor, Rowe (ed. 1). And ... he's poor, Rowe (ed. 2). And ... he is,—Theobald. And ... he's Sly, Johnson conj. And when he says what he is, Long conj. MS. When he says what he is, Collier MS. And what he says he is, Jackson conj. And when he says who he is, Anon. ap. Halliwell conj. See note (iii).

[67] we will] we'll Rowe (ed. 2).

[71] [Some bear out Sly.] Theobald. om. Ff Q.

A trumpet sounds.] Sound trumpets. Ff Q.

[72] [Exit S.] Ex. Servant. Theobald. om. Ff Q.

[75] Scene iii. Pope.

[Re-enter ...] Enter ... Ff Q.

[75, 76] An't ... players That] Ff Q.

Please your honour, players That Pope.

An it ... Players that Malone.

[76] That offer] That come to offer Capell. That offer humble Collier MS.

[77] Enter P.] Ff Q, after line 76.

[80] A Player.] Edd. 2. Player. Ff Q.

[85] fitted] fit S. Walker conj.

[86] A Player.] Sincklo. F1 Q. Sin. F2. Sim. F3 F4. 1. P. Capell. See note (iv).

[98] A Player.] Plai. F1 F2. Play. Q. Pla. F3 F4. 1. P. Capell.

[99] See note (v).

[101] And ... one] omitted by Rowe.

[103] Barthol'mew] Bartholmew Ff Q. Bartholomew Rowe.

[108] bear] F3 F4. beare F1 F2. bare Q.

[112] soft low] soft slow Malone conj.

[113] will] doth Q.

[120] this seven] these seven Rowe (ed. 2). twice seven Theobald.

him] himself Rowe.

[125] being ... convey'd] (being ... convei'd) Ff Q.

[133] peasant.] Johnson. peasant, Ff Q. peasant; Rowe.

[135] the] their Collier (Collier MS.).

Scene II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house.

Enter aloft Sly, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and Lord.

Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

First Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of

sack?

Sec. Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these

conserves?

Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor

'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if you give me

any conserves, give me conserves of beef: ne'er ask me

what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than

backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than

feet; nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as

my toes look through the overleather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!

O, that a mighty man of such descent,

Of such possessions and so high esteem,

Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I

Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath, by birth a

pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a

bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask

Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me

not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for

sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom.

What! I am not bestraught: here's—

Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!

Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your servants droop!

Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.

O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,

Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment

And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.

Look how thy servants do attend on thee,

Each in his office ready at thy beck.

Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, [Music.

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:

Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch

Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed

On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:

Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,

Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.

Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar

Above the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt?

Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,

And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

First Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

Sec. Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight

Adonis painted by a running brook

And Cytherea all in sedges hid

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,

Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll show thee Io as she was a maid

And how she was beguiled and surprised,

As lively painted as the deed was done.

Third Serv. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,

Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,

And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord. Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord:

Thou hast a lady far more beautiful

Than any woman in this waning age.

First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee

Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,

She was the fairest creature in the world;

And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?

Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?

I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;

I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:

Upon my life, I am a lord indeed

And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.

Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;

And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

Sec. Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

O, how we joy to see your wit restored!

O, that once more you knew but what you are!

These fifteen years you have been in a dream;

Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.

Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.

But did I never speak of all that time?

First Serv. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:

For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,

Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;

And rail upon the hostess of the house;

And say you would present her at the leet,

Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:

Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,

Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,

As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece

And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell

And twenty more such names and men as these

Which never were nor no man ever saw.

Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!

All. Amen.

Sly. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.

Enter the Page as a lady, attended.

Page. How fares my noble lord?

Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.

100

Where is my wife?

Page. Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?

Sly. Are you my wife and will not call me husband?

My men should call me 'lord:' I am your good-man.

Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;

105

I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly. I know it well. What must I call her?

Lord. Madam.

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. 'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords call ladies.

110

Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd

And slept above some fifteen year or more.

Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,

Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.

115

Madam, undress you and come now to bed.

Page. Thrice-noble lord, let me entreat of you

To pardon me yet for a night or two;

Or, if not so, until the sun be set:

For your physicians have expressly charged,

120

In peril to incur your former malady,

That I should yet absent me from your bed:

I hope this reason stands for my excuse.

Sly. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long.

But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again: I will

125

therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,

Are come to play a pleasant comedy;

For so your doctors hold it very meet,

Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,

130

And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:

Therefore they thought it good you hear a play

And frame your mind to mirth and merriment.

Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

Sly. Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a comonty

135

a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?

Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.

Sly. What, household stuff?

Page. It is a kind of history.

Sly. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my

140

side and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.

Flourish.

LINENOTES:

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 3 of 9]