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Enter Proteus, Silvia, and JULIA.
I 'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ;
And love you ’gainst the nature of love, force you. Pro. Madam, this service I have done for you, Sil. O Heaven! (Though you respect not aught your servant doth,)
I 'll force thee yield to my desire. To hazard life, and rescue you from him
L. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ;
VAL. Thou common friend, that's without faith And less than this, I a am sure, you cannot give.
or love; VAL. How like a dream is this I see and hear ! (For such is a friend now;) treacherous man ! Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. [A side. Thou hast beguild my hopes ; nought but mine Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am !
eye Pro. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; Could have persuaded me : now I dare not say But, by my coming, I have made you happy. I have one friend alive ; thou wouldst disprove me. Sil. By thy approach thou mak’st me most Who should be trusted when one's own* right hand unhappy.
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your I am sorry I must never trust thee more, presence.
[Aside. But count the world a stranger for thy sake. Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, The private wound is deepest: O time most I would have been a breakfast to the beast,
accurs'd! Rather than have false Proteus rescue me.
'Mongst all fues, that a friend should be the worst. 0, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine,
Pro. My shame, and guilt, confounds me.Whose life 's as tender to me as my soul ;
Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow
I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer
As e'er I did commit. Pro. What dangerous action, stood it next to VAL.
Then I am paid; death,
And once again I do receive thee honest : Would I not undergo for one calm look ?
Who by repentance is not satisfied 0, 't is the curse in love, and still approv’d,“ Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleas'd; When women cannot love where they're belov’d. By penitence the Eternal's wrath 's appeas'd, Sil. When Proteus cannot love where he 's And, that my love may appear plain and free, belov'd.
All that was mine, in Silvia, I give thee." Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love,
Jul. O me, unhappy!
[Faints. For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith Pro.
Look to the bov. Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths
Why, boy! Descended into perjury, to love
Why, wag ! how now? what 's the matter ? Look Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou 'dst two,
up; speak. And that's far worse than none; better have none Jul. O good sir, my master charged me to Than plural faith, which is too much by one: deliver a ring to madam Silvia ; which, out of my Thou counterfeit to thy true friend !
neglect, was never done. PRO.
In love, Pro. Where is that ring, boy? Who respects friend?
Jul. Here 't is: this is it. [Gives a ring.
Pro. How ! let me see:
JUL. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook ;
a And still approv'd, - ] That is, always proved. So in “Othello," Act I. Sc. 3,
*My very noble and approv'd good masters." b All that was mine, in Silvia, I give thee.) No passage in the play has caused so much perplexity to the commentators as this, * It is, I think, very odd," remarks Pope, "to give up his mistress thus at once, without any reason alleged;"--and every reader thinks so too; and innumerable have been the expedients suggested to remove the anomaly. It has been proposed to transfer the lines to Thurio in another scene; and Mr. Knight intimates that, with a slight alteration, they might be given to Silvia. Mr. Baron Field suggested we should read,
"All that was thine, Silvia I give thee." i.e. "I will make up my love for you as large as the love you once had for Silvia," The most plausible correction is, I think,
(*) Own is not in First folio. the transferring the disputed lines to Proteus, but reading Julia for Silvia, thus:
“ And, that my love may appear plain and free,
All that was mine, in Julia, I give thee." All the love I once felt for Julia, I will henceforth dedicate to my friendship for you,
Whatever may be thought of this conjecture, no one can believe the lines were spoken by Valentine, after seeing the vehemence with which he repels the advances of Thurio to his mistress subsequently, even in the presence of her father, the Duke:
“Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands;
This is the ring you sent to Silvia.
[Shows another ring. Pro. But how camest thou by this ring ? At my depart, I gave this unto Julia.
Jul. And Julia herself did give it me; And Julia herself hath brought it hither.
Pro. How ! Julia !
Jul. Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, And entertain’d them deeply in her heart : How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root ?" O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush ! Be thou asham'd, that I have took upon me Such an immodest raiment ; if shame live In a disguise of love: It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, Women to change their shapes, than men their
minds. Pro. Than men their minds ! 't is true ; O
Heaven ! were man
But constant, he were perfect : that one error
th' sins :
VAL. Come, come, a hand from either :
ever, JUL. And I mine.
Enter Outlaws, with DUKE and THURIO. Out. A prize, a prize, a prize! VAL. Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac’d, Banished Valentine.
* That gave aim-) To give aim, and to cry aim, have been so admirably explained and discriminated by Mr. Gifford, that we cannot do better than append his note upon the expressions :" Aim! for so it should be printed, and not cry aim, was always addressed to the person about to shoot; it was an hortatory exclamation of the bystanders, or, as Massinger has it, of the idle lookers-on, intended for his encouragement. To cry aim! was to encourage; to give aim was to direct; and in these distinct
and appropriate senses the words perpetually occur. Those who cried aim I stood by the archers; he who gave it, was stationed near the butts, and pointed out, after every discharge, how wide, or how short, the arrow fell of the mark."
b Cleft the root?] That is, of her heart. She is carrying on the allusion to archery. To cleare the pin was to split the wooden peg which attached the target to the butt.
DUKE. I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. Thu. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. VAL. These banish'd men, that I have kept VAL. Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy
withal, death ;
Are men endued with worthy qualities ; Come not within the measure of my wrath : Forgive them what they have committed here, Do not name Silvia thine; if once again,
And let them be recallid from their exile : Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands ; They are reformed, civil, full of good, Take but possession of her with a touch ;
And fit for great employment, worthy lord. I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. –
DUKE. Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them, Tuu. Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I;
and thee; I hold him but a fool, that will endanger
Dispose of them, as thou know'st their deserts. His body for a girl th it loves him not :
Come, let us go; we will include all jars I claim her not, and theretore she is thine.
With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity.(1) DUKE. The more degenerate and base art thou, VAL. And, as we walk along, I dare be bold To make such means for her as thou hast done, With our discourse to make your grace to smile : And leave her on such slight conditions. —
What think you of this page, my lord ? Now, by the honour of my ancestry,
Duke. I think the boy hath grace in him ; he I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine,
blushes. And think thee worthy of an empress' love !
Val. I warrant you, my lord; more grace than Know then, I here forget all former griefs,
boy. Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again. - DUKE. What mean you by that saying ? Plead a new state in thy unrivall’d merit,
VAL. Please you, I'll tell you as w2 p 135 To which I thus subscribe,—Sir Valentine,
along, Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ;
That you will wonder what hath fortuned. — Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserv'd her. Come, Proteus ; 't is your penance, but to hear Val. I thank your grace; the gift hath made The story of your loves discovered : me happy.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ; I now beseech
for your daughter's sake, One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. To grant one boon that I shall ask of you.
[Exeunt. a Verona shall not hold thee.] This is the reading of the only and he has been followed by nearly every editor but Malone. authentic edition of the present play we possess. Theobald, upon b Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, - ] There is some the ground that Thurio was a Milanese, and that the scene is obscurity here. Mr. Singer says, -" Do thou put in a plea for between the confines of Milan and Mantua, changed the reading reinstatement in forfeited honours, or claim an enhancement of
dignity, and I set my hand to it in these terms :- Sir Valentine, "Milan shall not behold ihee;"
thou art a gentleman !
(1) SCENE I.-- Nay, give me not the boots.] To give one the boots, like the French equivalent, donner le change à quelqu'un, means, to sell him a bargain.
" Ace. What, doo you give me the boots ?
LILLY's Mother Bombie, 1594. So also in “ The Weakest go to the Wall,” 1618 :
“i 'Tis not your big belly nor your fat bacon can carry it away, if you ofer is ine boots."
Steevens thinks the expression arose from a sport the country people in Warwickshire use at their harvest-home, where one sits as judge to try misdemeanours committed in harvest ; and the punishment for the men is to be laid on a bench and slapped on the breech with a pair of boots.
But he remarks, the allusion may be to the dreadful punishment known as the boots. In Harl. MSS., 6999 -48, Mr. T. Randolph writes to Lord Hunsdon, and mentions in the P.S. to his letter, that George Fluke had yesterday night the boots, and is said to have confessed that the Earl of Morton was privy to the poisoning the Earl of Athol, 16th March, 1580 ; and in another letter, March 18th, 1530," that the Laird of Wittingham had the boots, but without torment, confess'd,” &c. The punishment consisted in putting on the victim a pair of iron boots, fitting close to the leg, and then driving wedges with a mallot between those and the limb. Not a great while before this play way written, Douce tells us it was inflicted on a poor wretch, one Fian, in Scotland, in the presence of King James (afterwards our James the First). Fian was supposed to be a wizard, and to have been concerned in raising the storms which the King encountered on his matrimonial expedition to Denmark. The account of the transaction, which is contained in a very curious old pamphlet, states that Fian “ was with all convenient speed, by commandement, convaied againe to the torment of the boots, wherein he continued a long time, and did abide so many blows in them, that his legges were crushte and beaten togeather as small as might bee, and the bones and flesh so brused that the bloud and marrowe spouted forth in great abundance, whereby they were made ungerviceable for ever." The miserable man was afterwards burned.
(3) SCENE 1.-You have testern'd me.] The old copy reads cestern'd--a palpable corruption. The tester, testern, teston, derives its name, some suppose, from the French teston, so callod on account of the King's head first appearing on this coin,-Louis XII. 1513; or from an Italian coin of the same denomination. In England the name is said to have been first applied to the shilling (originally coined by Henry VII.), at the beginning of the reign of Henry VIII., and was at first of the value of twelve silver pennies ; it subsequently became much reduced ; and its debasement by an admixture of copper, temp. 1551, and again, 1560, is satirized in Heywood's “ Epigrams :
“ These testons, look, read; how like you the same?
"Tis a token of grace--they blush for shame." At the latter period named, it was so far reduced as to be worth but fourpence halfpenny ; but it afterwards rose in value again to the value of sixpence.
“ Sir Toby. Come on; there is sixpence for you, let's have a song
Sir Andrew. There's a testril of me too; if one knight give a-Clown. Would you have a love song," &c.
Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. 3. And it appears to have ever since continued as popular name for that coin.
(4) SCENE II.- What ho! Lucetta !] It may be interesting to compare this scene with the corresponding portion of Felismena's story in Book II. of Bartholomew Yong's translation of the “Diana" of Montemayor, 1598 :
“But to see the meanes that Rosina made unto me (for so was she called), the dutifull services and unwoonted circumstances, before she did deliver it, the othes that she sware unto me, and the subtle words and serious protestations she used, it was a pleasant thing, and woorthie the noting. To whom (neverthelesse) with an angrie countenance I turned againe, saying, If I had not regard of mine owne estate, and what hereafter might be said, I would make this shamelesse face of thine be knowne ever after for a marke of an impudent and bolde minion : but bicause it is the first time, let this suffice that I have saide, and give thee warning to take heed of the second,
“Me thinkes I see now the craftie wench, how she helde her peace, dissembling very cunningly the sorrow that she concoived by my angrie answer ; for she fained a counterfaite smiling, saying, Jesus, mistresse ! gave it you, bicause you might laugh at it, and not to moove your patience with it in this sort; for if I had any thought that it would have provokod you to anger, I praie God he may shew his wrath as great towards me as ever he did to the daughter of any mother. And with this she added many wordes more (as she could do well enough) to pacifie the fained anger and ill opinion that I had conceived of her, and taking her letter with her, she departed from me. This having passed thus, I began to imagine what might ensue thereof, and love (me thonght) did put a certaine desire into my minde to see the letter, though modestie and shame forbad me to ask it of my maide, especially for the wordes that had passed betweene us, as you have heard. And so I continued all that day untill night, in varietie of many thoughts; but when Rosina came to helpe me to
(2) SCENE I.-1, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton.) Laced mutton was, from a very early period of our history, a cant phrase to express a courtesan.
In our author's time, according to Malone, it was so established a term for one of these unfortunates, that a street in Clerkenwell, much frequented by them, was then called Mutton Lane. Mr. Dyce suggests that, in the present instance, the expression might not be regarded as synonymous with courtesan; and that Speed applied the term to Julia in the much less offensive sense of-a richly-attired piece of roman's flesh. We believe there was but one meaning attached to the term; and the only palliation for Speed's application of it in this case is, that in reality it was not the lady, but her waiting-maid, to whom he gave the letter.
bedde, God knowes how desirous I was to have her entreat was the base, foot, or under-song. It was sung throughout, me againe to take the letter, but she woulde never speake and not merely at the end of the verse. Burden is derived unto me about it, nor (as it seemned) did so much as once from bourdoun, a drone base (French, bourdon). thinke thereof. Yet to trie, if by giving her some occasion I might prevaile, I saide unto her : And is it so,
"This Sompnour bear to him a stiff burdoun, Rosina, that Don Felix, without any regard to mine
Was never trompe of half so gret a'soun."
CHAUCER. honour, dares write unto me? These are things, mistresse (saide she demurely to me againe), that are com We find, as early as 1250, that Somer is icumen in, was monly incident to love, wherefore I beseech you pardon sung with a foot or burden in two parts throughout (“Sing, me, for if I had thought to have angred you with it, I Cuckoo, Sing Cuckoo'); and in the preceding century would have first pulled out the bals of mine eies. How Giraldus had noticed the peculiarity of the English in cold my hart was at that blow, God knowes, yet did I dis
singing under-parts to their songs.--CHAPPELL’s Popular semble the matter, and suffer myselfe to remaine that
Music, dc. night onely with my desire, and with occasion of little sleepe. And so it was, indeede, for that (me thought) was (7) Scene II. – I bid the base for Proteus.] Lucetta, the longest and most painfull night that ever I passed. playing on the word base, turns the allusion to an ancient But when, with a slower pace (then I desired) the wished and still practised sport, known as the base, or prison bas, day was come, the discreet and subtle Rosina came into
or prison bars. This game is frequently mentioned by my chamber to helpe me to make me readie, in dooing the old writers. It consisted in a number of men or boys whereof, of purpose she let the letter closely fall, which,
congregating within certain spaces, from whence one of when I perceived, What is that that fell downe? (said I) them issued some hundred or more yards, and challenged let me see it. It is nothing, mistresse, saide she. Come, come,
any other to come out and catch him before the challenger let me see it (saide I): what ! moove me not, or else tell
could make his way to a privileged spot equi-distant from me what it is. Good Lord, mistresse (said she) why will where the two parties were placed. The party who went you see it: it is the letter I would have given you yester ont and challenged the other was said to bid the base, day. Nay, that it is not (saide I) wherefore shewe it me, that I may see if you lie or no.
I had no sooner said so,
"lads more like to run but she put it into my handes, saying, God never give me
The country base, than to commit such slaughter." good if it be anie other thing ; and although I knewe it
Cymbeline, Act IV. Se. 2. well indeede, yet I saide, what, this is not the same, for
" To drinke half pots, or deale at the whole Canne: I know that well enough, but it is one of thy lovers
To play at Base or Ben, and Inck-horn, Sir Than." letters : I will read it, to see in what neede he standeth
The Letting of Humours Blood in the Head Paire, of thy favour."
S. ROWLAND, 1600.
" Yet was no better than our prison base." (5) SCENE II.-The tune of “ Light o' love."] “ Light of
Annalia Dubrensia, 4to. 1636. Love” is so frequently mentioned by writers of the sixteenth century, that it is much to be regretted that the
(8) SCENE II.-I see you have a month's mind to them.) words of the original song are still undiscovered. When
The month's mind, i. e. the religious observances for the played slowly, and with expression, the air is beautiful.
dead performed daily for one month after the death of the In the Collection of Mr. George Daniel, of Canonbury, is
person on whose behalf they were offered, was generally “A very proper dittie, to the tune of Lightie Love,” which
prompted by regard for the deceased.
To performa was printed in 1570. The original may not have been
month's mind might be taken, therefore, as a proof of quite so proper,” if “Light o' Love" was used in the
strong affection for some one; and when these religious sense in which it was occasionally employed, instead of its
ceremonies ceased with the Reformation, the expression more poetical meaning :
came by degrees to have only the meaning we find attached “One of your London Light o'Loves, a right one,
to it in Shakespeare and his contemporaries, implying a Come over in thin pumps and half a petticoat."
hankering after, or as we now express it, a great mind for, FLETCHER's Wild Goose Chase, act IV. Sc. 1.
anything. CHAPPELL's Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 221.
I had of late Shakespeare refers to this tune in “Much Ado about A moneth's mind, sir, to you, y'ave the right make Nothing," Act III. Sc. 4.
To please a lady."
RANDOLPH's Jealous Lorers, 1646. " Marg. Clap us into-Light o'lore, that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it."
“ These verses Euphues sent also under his glasse, which
having finished, he gave himself to his booke, determining (6) SCENE II. — Belike it hath some burthen then.] to end his life in Athens, although he had a moneth's minde The burden of a song, in the old acceptation of the word, to England.”—Euphues and his England, 1623.
(1) SCENE I.---To speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas.] “It is worth remarking," observes Tollet, “that on All-Saints'.Day the poor people in Staffordshire, and, perhaps, in other country places, go from parish to parish a-souling, as they call it ; iié. begging and puling (or singing small, as Bailey's Dictionary explains puling) for soul-cakes, or any good thing to make them merry. This custom is mentioned by Peck, and seems a reminant of
Popish superstition to pray for departed souls, particularly those of friends." In Lancashire and Herefordshire it was usual at this period for the wealthy to dispense cakes cakes, called soul-mass-cakes, to the poor, who, upon receiving them, repeated the following couplet in acknowledgment :
God have poor soul,
Bones and all.