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As starts can neither with propriety nor sense | Then after a short pause, declares it as the be called impostures to true fear, something else general observation of mankind, that murderers was undoubtedly intended by the author, who cannot escape. perhaps wrote,

-These flaws and starts,

Impostures true to fear, would well become
A woman's story-

These symptoms of terror and amazement might better become impostures true only to fear, might become a coward at the recital of such falsehoods as no man could credit, whose understanding was not weakened by his terrors; tales, told by a woman over a fire on the authority of her grandam.

NOTE XXXI.

Macbeth-Love and health to all!

Then I'll sit down: give me some wine, fill full
I drink to the general joy of the whole table,
And to our dear friend Banquo whom we miss,
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,
And all to all.-—

Though this passage is, as it now stands, capable of more meanings than one, none of them are very satisfactory; and therefore I am inclined to read it thus:

-To all, and him, we thirst,
And hail to all.

Macbeth, being about to salute his company with a bumper, declares that he includes Banquo, though absent, in this act of kindness, and wishes health to all. Hail or heil for health was in such continual use among the good-fellows of ancient times, that a drinker was called a was-heiler, or a wisher of health, and the liquor was termed was-heil, because health was so often wished over it. Thus in the lines of Hanvil the Monk, Jamque vagante scypho, diseincto gutture was-heil Ingeminant was-heil; labor est plus perdere vini Quum sitis.

These words were afterwards corrupted into wassail and wassailer.

NOTE XXXII.

Macbeth. Can such things be
And overcome us like a summer's cloud
Without our special wonder? You make me strange
Even to the disposition that I owe,

When now I think you can behold such sights,
And keep the natural ruby of your cheek,
When mine is blanched with fear.

This passage, as it now stands, is unintelligible, but may be restored to sense by a very slight alteration.

-You make me strange Even to the disposition that I know.

Though I had before seen many instances of your courage, yet it now appears in a degree altogether new. So that my long acquaintance with your disposition does not hinder me from that astonishment which novelty produces.

NOTE XXXIII.

It will have blood, they say blood will have blood, Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak, Augurs, that understood relations, have

By magpies, and by choughs, and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood.

In this passage the first line loses much of its force by the present punctuation. Macbeth having considered the prodigy which has just appeared, infers justly from it, that the death of Duncan cannot pass unpunished,

It will have blood.

-They say, blood will have blood. Murderers when they have practised all human means of security, are detected by supernatural directions.

Augurs, that understand relations, &c. By the word relation, is understood the connexion of effects with causes; to understand relations as an augur, is to know how those things relate to each other which have no visible combination or dependence.

NOTE XXXIV.-SCENE VII.

Enter Lenox and another Lord.

As this tragedy, like the rest of Shakspeare's, is perhaps overstocked with personages, it is not easy to assign a reason why a nameless character should be introduced here, since nothing is said that might not with equal propriety have been put into the mouth of any other disaffected man. I believe, therefore, that in the original copy, it was written with a very common form of contraction, Lenox and An. for which the transcriber, another Lord. The author had indeed been more instead of Lenox and Angus, set down Lenox and indebted to the transcriber's fidelity and diligence had he committed no errors of greater impor

tance.

NOTE XXXV.-ACT IV. SCENE L

As this is the chief scene of enchantment in the play, it is proper in this place to observe, with how much judgment Shakspeare has selected all the circumstances of his infernal ceremonies, and how exactly he has conformed to common opinions and traditions.

Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd

The usual form in which familiar spirits are reported to converse with witches, is that of a cat. A witch who was tried about half a century before the time of Shakspeare, had a cat named Rutterkin, as the spirit of one of those witches was Grimalkin; and when any mischief was to be done, she used to bid Rutterkin go and fly; but once when she would have sent Rutterkin to

torment a daughter of the Countess of Rutland, instead of going or flying, he only cried mew, from which she discovered that the lady was out of his power, the power of witches being not universal, but limited, as Shakspeare has taken care to inculcate.

Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest tost.

The common afflictions which the malice of witches produced were melancholy, fits, and loss of flesh, which are threatened by one of Shakspeare's witches.

Weary sev'n nights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine.

It was likewise their practice to destroy the cattle of their neighbours, and the farmers have to this day many ceremonies to secure their cows and other cattle from witchcraft; but they seem to have been most suspected of malice against swine. Shakspeare has accordingly made one of his witches declare that she has been killing

swine; and Dr. Harsenet observes, that about | south, from the groves, the woods, the rivers, and that time "a sow could not be ill of the measles, nor a girl of the sullens, but some old woman was charged with witchcraft."

Toad, that under the cold stone
Days and nights has forty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot

the fens, from the fairies, red, black, white." There was likewise a book written before the time of Shakspeare, describing, amongst other properties, the colours of spirits.

Many other circumstances might be particularized, in which Shakspeare has shown his judgment and his knowledge.

NOTE XXXVI.-SCENE II.

Macbeth. Thou art too like the spirit of Banque, Thy crown' does (1) sear my eye-balls, and thy (2) down, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first, hair, A third is like the former.

Toads have likewise long lain under the reproach of being by some means necessary to witchcraft, for which reason Shakspeare, in the first scene of this play, calls one of the spirits padocke or toad, and now takes care to put a toad first into the pot. When Vaninus was seized at Thoulouse, there was found at his lodgings ingens bufo vitro inclusus, a great toad shut in a vial, upon which those that prosecuted him veneficium exprobrabant, charged him, I suppose, with witch-merly practised of destroying the sight of captives

craft.

Fillet of a fenny snake

In the cauldron boil and bake;

Eye of neut, and toe of frog ;-
For a charm, &c.

sears his eye-balls, is taken from the method for(1) The expression of Macbeth, that the crown

or competitors, by holding a burning bason before the eye, which dried up its humidity.

(2) As Macbeth expected to see a train of kings, and was only inquiring from what race The propriety of these ingredients may be that the hair of the second was bound with gold they would proceed, he could not be surprised known by consulting the books de Viribus Ani-like that of the first; he was offended only that malium and de Mirabilibus Mundi, ascribed to the second resembled the first, as the first resemAlbertus Magnus, in which the reader, who has bled Banquo, and therefore said, time and credulity, may discover very wonderful

secrets.

Finger of birth-strangled babe,
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab ;-

It has been already mentioned in the law against witches, that they are supposed to take up dead bodies to use in enchantments, which was confessed by the woman whom King James examined, and who had of a dead body, that was divided in one of their assemblies, two fingers for her share. It is observable, that Shakspeare, on this great occasion, which involves the fate of a king, multiplies all the circumstances of horror. The babe whose finger is used, must be strangled in its birth; the grease must not only be human, but must have dropped from a gibbet, the gibbet of a murderer: and even the sow whose blood is used, must have offended nature by devouring her own farrow. These are touches of judgment and genius.

And now about the cauldron sing

Blue spirits and white,
Black spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.

And in a former part,

Weird sisters hand in hand

Thus do go about, about,

Thrice to mine, and thrice to thine,

And thrice again to make up nine.

These two passages I have brought together,

-And thy air,
The other gold-bound brow, is like the first.
NOTE XXXVII.

His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls
I will give to the edge o' th' sword
That trace him in his line-no boasting like a fool
This deed I'll do before my purpose cool.

which as it rhymes, ought, according to the prac
Both the sense and measure of the third line,
tice of this author, to be regular, are at present
injured by two superfluous syllables, which may
easily be removed by reading,
That trace his line-no boasting like a fool.

NOTE XXXVIII.

-souls

pray you school yourself; but for your husband,
Rosse. Dearest cousin,
He's noble, wise, judicious, and best knows

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The fits o' th' time, I dare not speak much farther,

But cruel are the times when we are traitors,

And do not know 't ourselves: when we (1) hold rumour

From what we fear, yet know not what we fear,

But float upon a wild and violent sea

Each way, and (2) move. I'll take my leave of you;

Shall not be long but I'll be here again:

Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upwards
To what they were before: my pretty cousin,
Blessing upon you.

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From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.

The present reading seems to afford no sense; because they both seem subject to the objection and therefore some critical experiments may be of too much levity for the solemnity of enchant-properly tried upon it, though, the verses being ment, and may both be shown, by one quotation without any connexion, there is room for suspifrom Camden's account of Ireland, to be founded cion, that some intermediate lines are lost, and upon a practice really observed by the uncivilized that the passage is therefore irretrievable. If it natives of that country. "When any one gets be supposed that the fault arises only from the a fall," says the informer of Camden, he starts corruption of some words, and that the traces of up, and turning three times to the right, digs a the true reading are still to be found, the passage hole in the earth; for they imagine that there is may be changed thus: a spirit in the ground; and if he falls sick in two or three days, they send one of their women that is skilled in that way to the place, where she says, I call thee from the east, west, north, and

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-When we bode ruin

From what we fear, yet know not what we fear.

of the conference,
Or in a sense very applicable to the occasion

-When the bold running

NOTE XLI.-ACT V. SCENE III.

Macbeth. Bring me no more reports, let them fly all, 'Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane,

From what they fear, yet know not what they fear.
(2) But float upon a wild and violent sea
Each way, and move.

That he who floats upon a rough sea must move, is evident, too evident for Shakspeare so emphatically to assert. The line therefore is to

be written thus:

Each way, and move-I'll take my leave of you. Rosse is about to proceed, but finding himself overpowered by his tenderness, breaks off abruptly, for which he makes a short apology and retires.

NOTE XXXIX.-SCENE IV.

I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm?
Was he not born of woman?

Fly false Thanes,

And mingle with the English epicures.

In the first line of this speech, the proper pauses are not observed in the present editions. Bring me no more reports-let them fly all Tell me not any more of desertions-Let all my subjects leave me-I am safe till, &c.

The reproach of epicurism, on which Mr. Theobald has bestowed a note, is nothing more than a natural invective uttered by an inhabitant of a barren country, against those who have

Malcolm. Let us seek out some desolate shade, and more opportunities of luxury.

there

Weep our sad bosoms empty.

Macduff. Let us rather

Hold fast the mortal sword: and like good men,
Bestride our downfal birthdoom: each new morn,
New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds
As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out
Like syllables of dolour.

NOTE XLII.

Macbeth. I have lived long enough: my way of life Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf.

As there is no relation between the way of life, and fallen into the sear, I am inclined to think, that the W is only an M inverted, and He who can discover what is meant by him that it was originally written, My May of life. that earnestly exhorts him to bestride his down- I am now passed from the spring to the autumn fal birthdoom, is at liberty to adhere to the pre-of my days, but I am without those comforts that sent text; but those who are willing to confess should succeed the sprightliness of bloom, and supthat such counsel would to them be unintelligi-port me in this melancholy season. ble, must endeavour to discover some reading less obscure. It is probable that Shakspeare wrote,

Like good men

Bestride our downfaln birthdom.

The allusion is to a man from whom something valuable is about to be taken by violence, and who, that he may defend it without encumbrance, lays it on the ground and stands over it with his weapon in his hand. Our birthdom, or birthright, says he, lies on the ground, let us, like men who are to fight for what is dearest to them, not abandon it, but stand over it and defend it. This is a strong picture of obstinate resolution.

Birthdom for birthright, is formed by the same analogy with masterdom in this play, signifying the privileges or rights of a master.

Perhaps it might be birth-dame for mother; let us stand over our mother that lies bleeding on the ground.

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NOTE XLIII.-SCENE IV.
Malcolm. 'Tis his main hope:

For where there is advantage to be given,
Both more or less have given him the revolt,
And none serve with him but constrained things,
Whose hearts are absent too.

The impropriety of the expression advantage to be given, instead of advantage given, and the disagreeable repetition of the word given in the next line incline me to read,

Where there is a vantage to be gone,
Both more and less have given him the revolt.

Advantage or vantage in the time of Shakspeare, signified opportunity.

More and less is the same with greater and less. So in the interpolated Mandeville, a book of that age, there is a chapter of India the more and the less.

NOTE XLIV.-SCENE V.

Macbeth. Wherefore was that cry?
Seyton. The queen is dead.

Macbeth. She should (1) have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this peity pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of (2) recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow.-

(1) She should have died hereafter,
There would have been a time for such a word.

This passage has very justly been suspected of being corrupt. It is not apparent for what word there would have been a time; and that there would or would not be a time for any word, seems not a consideration of importance sufficient to transport Macbeth into the following exclamation. I read therefore,

She should have died hereafter,
There would have been a time for such a world.—
To-morrow, &c.

It is a broken speech, in which only part of the thought is expressed, and may be para

phrased thus: The queen is dead. Macbeth. Her | intelligible, and has therefore passed smoothly death should have been deferred to some more peace-over them, without any attempt to alter or exful hour; had she lived longer, there would at plain them. length have been a time for the honours due to her Some of the lines with which I had been peras a queen, and that respect which I owe her for her plexed, have been indeed so fortunate as to atfidelity and love. Such is the world-such is the tract his regard; and it is not without all the condition of human life, that we always think to- satisfaction which it is usual to express on such morrow will be happier than to-day; but to-morrow occasions, that I find an entire agreement beand to-morrow steals over us unenjoyed and unre-tween us in substituting [see Note II.] quarrel garded, and we still linger in the same expectation for quarry, and in explaining the adage of the to the moment appointed for our end. All these cat, [Note XVII.] But this pleasure is, like days, which have thus passed away, have sent mul- most others, known only to be regretted; for I titudes of fools to the grave who were engrossed by have the unhappiness to find no such conformity the same dream of future felicity, and, when life with regard to any other passage. was departing from them, were like me reckoning on to-morrow.

(2) To the last syllable of recorded time.

The line which I have endeavoured to amend, Note XI. is likewise attempted by the new editor, and is perhaps the only passage in the play in which he has not submissively admitted the emendations of foregoing critics. Instead of the common reading,

Recorded time seems to signify the time fixed in the decrees of heaven for the period of life.The records of futurity is indeed no accurate expression, but as we only know transactions past or present, the language of men affords no terin for the volumes of prescience, in which future he has published, events may be supposed to be written.

NOTE XLV.

Macbeth. If thou speak'st false,

Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,

Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,

I ca en t if thou dost for me as much

I pull in resolution, and begin

To doubt th' equivocatio of the fiend,

That li's like truth. "Fear not till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane," and now a wood
Comes tow'rd Donsinane.

I pull in resolution

Though this is the reading of all the editions, yet as it is a phrase without either example, elegance, or propriety, it is surely better to read,

I pall in resolution———

I languish in my constancy, my confidence begins to forsake me. It is scarcely necessary to observe how easily pall might be changed into pul by a negligent writer, or mistaken for it by an unskilful printer.

NOTE XLVI.-SCENE VIII.

Seyoard. Had I as many sons as I have hairs,
I would not wish them to a fairer death:
And so his knell is knoll'd.

This incident is thus related from Henry of Huntingdon by Camden in his "Remains," from which our author probably copied it.

When Seyward, the martial Earl of Northumberland, understood that his son, whom he had sent in service against the Scotchmen, was slain, he demanded whether his wound were in the fore part or hinder part of his body. When it was answered in the fore part, he replied, "I am right glad; neither wish I any other death to me or mine."

AFTER the foregoing pages were printed, the late edition of Shakspeare, ascribed to Sir Thomas Hanmer, fell into my hands; and it was therefore convenient for me to delay the publication of my remarks till I had examined whether they were not anticipated by similar observations, or precluded by better. I therefore 1ead over this tragedy, but found that the editor's apprehension is of a cast so different from mine, that he appears to find no difficulty in most of those passages which I have represented as un

Doing every thing

Safe towards your love and honour,

Doing every thing

Shap'd towards your love and honour

This alteration, which like all the rest attempted by him, the reader is expected to admit, without any reason alleged in its defence, is, in my opinion, more plausible than that of Mr. Theobald: whether it is right, I am not to de

termine.

In the passage which I have altered in Note XL. an emendation is likewise attempted in the late edition, where, for

-And the chance of goodness
Be like our warranted quarrel,

is substituted-And the chance in goodness-
I whether with more or less elegance, dignity,
and propriety, than the reading which I have
offered, I must again decline the province of
deciding.

Most of the other emendations which he has endeavoured, whether with good or bad fortune, are too trivial to deserve mention. For surely the weapons of criticism ought not to be blunted against an editor, who can imagine that he is restoring poetry, while he is amusing himself with alterations like these:

For This is the serjeant

Who like a good and hardy soldier fought,
This is the serjeant, who
Like a right good and hardy soldier fought.
For

Dismay'd not this

Our captains Macbeth and Banquo?—Yes.

-Dismay'd not this

Our captains brave Macbeth and Banquo?—Yes. Such harmless industry may, surely, be forgiven, if it cannot be praised: may he therefore never want a monosyllable, who can use it with such wonderful dexterity.

Rumpatur quisquis rumpitur invidia!

The rest of this edition I have not read, but, from the little that I have seen, think it not dangerous to declare that, in my opinion, its pomp recommends it more than its accuracy. There is no distinction made between the ancient reading, and the innovations of the editor; there is no reason given for any of the alterations which are made; the emendations of former

critics are adopted without any acknowledg. I may without indecency observe, that no man ment, and few of the difficulties are removed which have hitherto embarrassed the readers of Shakspeare.

I would not however be thought to insult the editor, nor to censure him with too much petulance, for having failed in little things, of whom I have been told, that he excels in greater. But |

should attempt to teach others what he has never learned himself; and that those who, like Themistocles, have studied the arts of policy, and can teach a small state how to grow great, should, like him, disdain to labour in trifles, and consider petty accomplishments as below their ambition.

PROPOSALS

FOR

PRINTING THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

PRINTED IN THE YEAR 1756.

WHEN the works of Shakspeare are, after so many editions, again offered to the public, it will doubtless be inquired, why Shakspeare stands in more need of critical assistance than any other of the English writers, and what are the deficiencies of the late attempts, which another editor may hope to supply.

The business of him that republishes an ancient book is to correct what is corrupt, and to explain what is obscure. To have a text corrupt in many places, and in many doubtful, is, among the authors that have written since the use of types, almost peculiar to Shakspeare. Most writers, by publishing their own works, prevent all various readings, and preclude all conjectural criticism. Books indeed are sometimes published after the death of him who produced them; but they are better secured from corruption than these unfortunate compositions. They subsist in a single copy written or revised by the author; and the faults of the printed volume can be only faults of one descent.

But of the works of Shakspeare the condition has been far different: he sold them, not to be printed, but to be played. They were immediately copied for the actors, and multiplied by transcript after transcript, vitiated by the blunders of the penman, or changed by the affectation of the player; perhaps enlarged to introduce a jest, or mutilated to shorten the representation; and printed at last without the concurrence of the author, without the consent of the proprietor, from compilations made by chance or by stealth out of the separate parts written for the theatre; and thus thrust into the world surreptitiously and hastily, they suffered another deprivation from the ignorance and negligence of the printers, as every man who knows the state of the press in that age will readily conceive.

It is not easy for invention to bring together so many causes concurring to vitiate the text. No other author ever gave up his works to fortune and time with so little care; no books

could be left in hands so likely to injure them, as plays frequently acted, yet continued in manuscript: no other transcribers were likely to be so little qualified for their task as those who copied for the stage, at a time when the lower ranks of the people were universally illiterate: no other editions were made from fragments so minutely broken, and so fortuitously re-united; and in no other age was the art of printing in such unskilful hands.

With the causes of corruption that make the revisal of Shakspeare's dramatic pieces necessary, may be enumerated the causes of obscurity, which may be partly imputed to his age, and partly to himself.

When a writer outlives his contemporaries, and remains almost the only unforgotten name of a distant time, he is necessarily obscure. Every age has its modes of speech, and its cast of thought; which, though easily explained when there are many books to be compared with each other, becomes sometimes unintelligible, and always difficult, when there are no parallel passages that may conduce to their illustration. Shakspeare is the first considerable author of sublime or familiar dialogue in our language. Of the books which he read, and from which he formed his style, some perhaps have perished, and the rest are neglected. His imitations are therefore unnoted, his allusions are undiscovered, and many beauties, both of pleasantry and greatness, are lost with the objects to which they were united, as the figures vanish when the canvass has decayed.

It is the great excellence of Shakspeare, that he drew his scenes from nature, and from life. He copied the manners of the world then passing before him, and has more allusions than other poets to the traditions and superstition of the vulgar; which must therefore be traced before he can be understood.

He wrote at a time when our poetical language was yet unformed, when the meaning of

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