"Boy! False hound!

If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there,
That like an eagle in a dovecote I

Flutter'd your Volces in Corioli."

Hear Constance, wailing for her lost Arthur:

"Grief fills the room up of my absent child,

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;

Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form," &c.

Hear Claudio, with mingled grief and indignation, upbraiding Hero :—

Could words be made more figurative than they are in all of these expressions of excited feeling, which are not a tithe of those which Shakespeare's dramas would afford, of a like kind? Claudio's "on my eyelids shall conjecture hang," is one of the strongest, as well as one of the most beautiful figures in the whole range of poetry. It has a bolder beauty than those two lovely lines of which it reminds us, in Spenser's description of Una:

"Upon her eyelids many graces sat,

Under the shadow of her even brows."

It is not true, I venture to assert, that passion avoids figures of speech. Its utterance is always direct and forcible; but sometimes the most direct and forcible medium of expression is to be found in a metaphor. So, at least, thought Shakespeare; which is all that, in this case, needs to be established.

With regard to the confusion of sounds which is supposed to account for the alleged error in the original line, Mr. Collier himself admits it "to be possible that the old corrector, not understanding the expression, Whose mother was her painting,' might mistake it for Who smothers her with painting!" This possibility is made certainty by a passage in Hamlet, which the able opponent of the new reading, Mr. Halliwell, who has made it the subject of a special pamphlet, has not noticed. In the second scene of Act I., Hamlet's mother asks him why a father's death seems so particular to him. He replies,

"Seems, madam! Nay, it is: I know not seem;

'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black," &c.

Now, it is remarkable that in the fifth quarto impression of this play, published in 1611, these lines are printed thus:

"Seemes, madam, nay it is, I know not seemes,

'Tis not alone my incky cloake could smother," &c.

Here is proof positive that "good mother" not only could be, but was, misunderstood,

could smother; a mistake, in its principal feature, identical with that made by the corrector of Mr. Collier's folio, and which suggests another mode of accounting for the manuscript correction. It is evident that whoever made the emendations in that volume, studied the quartos thoroughly; indeed, Mr. Collier frequently claims that such was the case. Now, it is not at all improbable that the corrector, finding this mistake of could smother, in the quarto, for "good mother" in the folio, took from it the hint for the change of "whose mother," into who smothers; and thus was enabled to make a sense for a passage which had before been to him meaningless. It is somewhat strange that this correlative error, almost conclusive in itself, has not occurred to either of Mr. Collier's learned opponents.* Under all these circumstances, it is impossible to receive the new reading, plausible as it seems at first.

These are but a very few indeed of the instances in which the corrector of the folio of 1632 has shown his inability to apprehend the poetical thoughts of the author whose works he undertook to amend. Passages which prove his incapacity in other respects, and which establish the late date of his labours, and the remaining points which go to show the entire inadmissibility of the claims which Mr. Collier sets up for him, might be quoted to an extraordinary extent; but a consideration for the patience of my readers must limit my selections. One or two instances which clearly establish a point are as conclusive upon the authority of his corrections as a hundred.

He cannot appreciate Shakespeare's humour. For instance, after the lamentation of Bottom (as Pyramus) over the death of Thisbe, Theseus says,

"This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad;"

the humour of which consists in coupling the ridiculous fustian of the clown's assumed passion, with an event which would, in itself, make a man look sad. The corrector extinguishes the fun at once, by reading,

"This passion on the death of a dear friend," &c.

And, incomprehensible as it is, Mr. Collier sustains him by saying, that the observation of Theseus "has particular reference to the 'passion' of Pyramus on the fate of Thisbe!"

In Much Ado about Nothing, Beatrice, being sent to call Benedick, he asks her if she takes pleasure in the office. She replies,

"Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal." This, our precise and literal corrector ruins, by inserting 'not,' and reading:

"Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's point and not choke a daw withal."

In Antony and Cleopatra, Act I., Sc. 3, Charmian, advising Cleopatra how to keep the love of Antony, says

"In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing."

To which Cleopatra replies:

"Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him."

Meaning, of course, "You are a fool, girl; that is the way to lose him;" but this the corrector changes to,

"Thou teachest, like a fool, the way to lose him;"

a reading which makes, in substance, the same assertion as the original, but which destroys all the delicate and characteristic humour of the gay queen's reply.

* As I know of no original impression of either of the quarto copies of this play, I am obliged to content myself with Steevens' reprint, which is from the edition of 1611. I therefore cannot say whether this strange and important error appeared in the editions of 1504, 1605, and 1609.

So when, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, Act IV., Sc. 5, poor Simple, mistaking 'conceal' for 'reveal,' says, in reply to Falstaff, "I may not conceal them, Sir," and the Host, after his waggish fashion, bewilders yet more the serving-man's feeble brain, by turning his own blunder upon him, and saying "Conceal [i. e. reveal] them, or thou diest," Mr. Collier's folio expurgates all the fun from the passage by retaining an obvious typographical error of the original, and making Falstaff and the Host use "conceal" in its legitimate and sober sense.

The corrector's obtuseness as to dramatic propriety is equally obvious with his incapacity to appreciate poetry and humour. In Act IV., Sc. 4, of the Merry Wives of Windsor, Sir Hugh Evans, talking of Falstaff, with Page and Ford and their wives, remarks of the plot to entice the knight to another meeting,

"You say he has been thrown into the rivers, and has been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman: methinks there should be terrors in him that he should not come:" &c.

The old corrector makes the parson say, "You see he has been thrown," &c., and Mr. Collier sustains the change, by the remark that "the other persons in the scene had said nothing of the kind." But the corrector and his backer were obviously blind to the fact that the scene opens with the entry of the whole party in the midst of a conversation upon the subject of Ford's jealousy and Falstaff's mishaps; as is plain from the speeches of Evans and Page, when the scene opens.

"Evans.-'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman as I ever did look upon.
"Page.-And did he send you both these letters at an instant?"

But no "'oman" or "letters" have been mentioned on the stage. Yet evidently Mrs. Ford is the "'oman," and the letters are those of Falstaff to Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Page, which had been the subjects of a conversation begun before the entrance of the party. Shakespeare was not such a bungler at his art as to make his characters always stalk upon the stage, and formally commence their conference. Sir Hugh's "You say" refers to something said before the scene opened. As an examination of the first part of the scene would have prevented this error, it has a place also among those blunders which result from a neglect of the context. The corrected text of this folio and the stage directions furnish many instances of similar carelessness and incapacity; but as my present object is not to attack the emendations in detail, but to establish the corrector's want of authority, and also of ability, by showing that in certain instances his work is essentially inconsistent with Shakespeare's obvious intention, and as this one case fully proves the point for which it is quoted, I pass on to the next.

The entire absence of a higher authority for the corrections, as well as the narrowness of view of the corrector-or, rather, of one of the correctors, for there were evidently more than one-is shown by his continual neglect of the context; his insight appearing to have been limited to the sentence, or the very line which he corrected. Thus, in the Tempest, Act I., Sc. 2, Prospero speaks of,

"one

Who having, unto truth, by telling of it,

Made such a sinner of his memory
To credit his own lie."

The construction of which plainly is, 'one who having made such a sinner of his memory unto truth, to credit his own lie by telling of it.' But Mr. Collier's corrector saw only the apparent contradiction in the second line, and, seeking to remedy that, changed "unto truth" to 'to untruth;' reading,

"Who having to untruth, by telling of it," &c.

This has also been pointed out by Mr. Singer in his Text of Shakespeare Vindicated, &c.

not seeing the absurdity of asserting that a man made a sinner of his memory to untruth, by telling a lie.

In Love's Labour's Lost, Act V., Sc. 2, the Princess, learning from Boyet that visitors are approaching to lay open siege to their hearts, exclaims,

"Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say."

Mr. Collier assures us "that 'to charge their breath' is nonsense," and the MS. corrector of his folio changes the phrase to "that charge the breach against us." And this, in the face of the very announcement to which the Princess replies, and in which Boyet says, that

"Love doth approach disguis'd,

Armed in arguments. you'll be surpris'd.
Muster your wits," &c.

What would have been the confusion of the old corrector, if the text had been, "What are they that tilt their tongues against us ?" instead of "charge their breath," which it might well have been. In that case he certainly would have changed it to "what are they that tilt with tongs against us ?"—which is a fair type of the literal sort of emendation with which Mr. Collier's folio furnishes us.

Mr. Collier says that "there is undeniable error" in the subsequent lines at the end of Scrope's speech in Henry IV., Part 2, Act IV., Sc. 1.

"So that this land like an offensive wife
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution."

"To whom," asks Mr. Collier, "does him' refer? Indisputably to the husband," and he sustains his folio in reading the second line,

"That hath enrag'd her man to offer strokes."

But "him," refers to King Henry; as is evident from the context, in which Scrope distinctly points out the king's perplexity, which his simile of the "offensive wife" but illus

trates:

"For full well he knows

He cannot so precisely weed this land,
As his misdoubts present occasion :
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend,
So that this land, like an offensive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up," &c.

In Act III., Scene 5, of Romeo and Juliet, Juliet having been informed by Lady Capulet of the projected marriage with Paris, refuses the match indignantly. The conclusion of her speech, and her mother's reply, are as follows:

"I will not marry yet; and when I do, I swear

It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate,

Rather than Paris :-These are news indeed!

This passage, Mr. Collier's

and omitting "I swear!"

Lady C. Here comes your father; tell him so yourself," &c.

folio changes, by giving Juliet's last exclamation to her mother,

Thus:

The new arrangement is called "judicious" by Mr. Collier, who also justifies the omis sion of "I swear!" on the ground that the oath is "hardly consistent with the delicacy of her [Juliet's] character, and certainly destructive to the measure." But both the MS. corrector and Mr. Collier forget that Lady Capulet leads to the announcement of the projected marriage by promising Juliet pleasant news, about which the poor ignorant girl at once. expresses curiosity. She has just affected such a hatred of Romeo as to profess to be willing to mix a poison for him, if some man could be found to give it him: her mother replies:

"Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.

But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

Jul. All joy comes well in such a needy time;
What are they, I beseech your ladyship ?"

Lady Capulet, in reply, tells her of the negotiated marriage; at which she at once expresses her disgust and surprise, and exclaims, as well she may, "These are news indeed!" She has learned her mother's "joyful tidings," as we say, 'with a vengeance. The exclamation palpably belongs to her; and there is not the slightest pretext for giving it to her mother. As to "I swear" being inconsistent with the delicacy of Juliet's character, Mr. Collier seems to have forgotten, that like most young ladies of her country and her time, she had a pretty free tongue of her own: that she calls her nurse "a devil," and Romeo, in her contending emotions on the death of Tybalt, "a damned saint," and her nurse again, an "ancient damnation," simply because that easy-going old person advises her to marry the County Paris. Compared with these expressions, Juliet's "I swear," which was but a solemn asseveration, natural under the circumstances, is venial; especially when we consider how freely ladies talked in Shakespeare's day. Here, then, in a single passage we find displayed a neglect of the context, a want of appreciation of character as Shakespeare has portrayed it, and an ignorance or disregard of the manners of his time.

Much delight has been expressed by some persons, intelligent people, too, at the substitution of boast for "beast" in a speech of Lady Macbeth's. She says, as Macbeth expresses a fear to murder Duncan,

"What beast was't, then,

That made you break this enterprise to me?"

The MS. corrector makes this,

"What boast was't, then,

That made you break this enterprise to me?"

altogether forgetting that Macbeth had but just said,

"I dare do all that may become a man.

Who dares do more, is none,"

and that Lady Macbeth, at once catching at his phrase, instantly replies, "what beast was't, then," [since it was unworthy of a man] "that made you break this enterprise to me ?”— and, besides, Macbeth had made no boast.

Several other glaring instances, establishing the fact that the corrections were made in entire ignorance or disregard of the context, are indicated on my memoranda; but these are sufficient; and we must pass on to consider a specimen or two of the many changes which show that a long time had elapsed between the writings of the plays, and the MS. alteration of the text. The first I shall notice is a MS. stage direction in Act IV., Sc. 3, where Biron has read his sonnet, and, seeing the king approaching with a paper, wishes to hide himself. Mr. Collier says:—

"When at this juncture Biron conceals himself, the printed stage direction is only He stands aside. but that is obliterated, and IIe gets him in a tree, is put in its place in manuscript. When, too, Biron interposes some remarks to himself, it is added that he is in the tree," &c.