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P. 98. But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,
I here could pluck his Highness' frown upon you,
And justify you traitors: at this time

I'll tell no tales.

Sebas. [Aside to ANTO.] The Devil speaks in him.
Pros.

Now,

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother, &c.— In the last line but one, the original has No instead of Now. No must of course refer to what Sebastian has just said, "The Devil speaks in him." But this is evidently spoken either to himself or to his partner in guilt; and things so spoken are, I think, never supposed to be heard by the other persons of the scene. Besides, we naturally want the sense of now as a transitional word. The correction was proposed by the late Professor Allen, of Philadelphia.

P. 99. As great to me, as late; and, portable

To make the dear loss, &c. — The original has supportable, which makes shocking work with the metre. Steevens printed portable, which keeps the sense, saves the verse, and is elsewhere used by the Poet.

P. 99.

And scarce think

Their eyes do offices of truth, these words

Are natura! breath.

So Capell. The original has "their

words." But Prospero evidently refers to the words himself is speaking. See foot-note 30.

P. 101. Let us not burden our remembrance with

A heaviness that's gone. - The original has remembrances.

Corrected by Pope.

P. 103. When we, in all her trim, freshly beheld

Our royal, good, and gallant ship. The original reads, "Where we, in all our trim." The last is Thirlby's correction.

P. 104.

This mis-shaped knave,

His mother was a witch. - So Pope and Walker. The original

has "mis-shapen.”

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P. 105. This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on. The original reads "This is a strange thing as," &c. Corrected by Capell.

P. 106. Where I have hope to see the nuptial

our

Of these our dear-belovèd solemnized. — The original has “ deere-belov'd solemnized"; which White and Dyce retain. This, it seems to me, is pushing conservatism one letter too far. It is true, the Poet sometimes has it solémnizéd; but then he oftener has it as in the text.

P. 107. Now my charms are all o'erthrown, &c.—All Shakespearians, I believe, are pretty much agreed that this Epilogue was not written by Shakespeare. The whole texture and grain of the thing are altogether unlike him. Any one, who will take pains to compare it with the passages of trochaic verse in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, must see at once, I think, that the two could not have come from the same hand. It cannot be affirmed with positiveness who did write the Epilogue. As Mr. White observes, such appendages were very apt to be supplied by some second hand; and in Shakespeare's circle of friends and fellow-dramatists there were more than one who might well have done this office for him, either with or without his consent; especially as his plays are known to have passed out of his hands into the keeping of the theatrical company for which he wrote. Both the Prologue and the Epilogue of King Henry VIII. have been noted by Johnson and others as decidedly wanting in the right Shakespearian

taste.

THE WINTER'S TALE.

IRST printed in the folio of 1623; but heard of as early as

FIRST

1611 through one Simon Forman, M.D., a noted astrologer and quack of that time, who evidently took great delight in the theatre, and who kept a diary of what he witnessed there. In 1836 the manuscript of this diary was discovered in the Ashmolean Museum, and a portion of its contents published. Forman was at the Globe theatre on Wednesday, the 15th of May, 1611, and under that date he records "how Leontes the King of Sicilia was overcome with jealousy of his wife with the King of Bohemia, his friend that came to see him, and how he contrived his death, and would have had his cup-bearer poison him, who gave the King warning thereof, and fled with him to Bohemia. Also, how he sent to the oracle of Apollo, and the answer of Apollo was that she was guiltless; and, except the child was found again that was lost, the King should die without issue: for the child was carried into Bohemia, and there laid in a forest, and brought up by a shepherd; and the King of Bohemia's son married that wench, and they fled into Sicilia, and by the jewels found about her she was known to be Leontes' daughter, and was then sixteen years old."

This clearly identifies the performance seen by Forman as The Winter's Tale of Shakespeare. It is altogether probable that the play was then new, and was in its first course of exhibition. For Sir George Buck became Master of the Revels in October, 1610, and was succeeded in that office by Sir Henry Herbert in 1623, who passed The Winter's Tale without examination, on the ground of its being an “old play formerly allowed by Sir George Buck." As the play had to be licensed before it could be performed, this ascertains its first performance to have

been after October, 1610. So that The Winter's Tale was most likely presented for official sanction some time between that date and the 15th of May following, when Forman saw it at the Globe. To all this must be added the internal characteristics of the play itself, which is in the Poet's ripest and most idiomatic style of art. It is not often that the date of his workmanship can be so closely marked.

In the plot and incidents of this play, Shakespeare followed very closely the Pandosto, or, as it was sometimes called, the Dorastus and Fawnia, of Robert Greene. This novel appears

to have been one of the most popular books of the time; there being no less than fourteen old editions of it known, the first of which was in 1588. Greene was a scholar, a man of some genius, Master of Arts in both the Universities, and had indeed much more of learning than of judgment in the use and application of it. For it seems as if he could not write at all without overloading his pages with classical allusion, nor hit upon any thought so trite and commonplace, but that he must run it through a series of aphoristic sentences twisted out of Greek and Roman lore. In this respect, he is apt to remind one of his fellow-dramatist, Thomas Lodge, whose Rosalynd contributed so much to the Poet's As You Like It: for it was then much the fashion for authors to prank up their matter with superfluous erudition. Like all the surviving works of Greene, Pandosto is greatly charged with learned impertinence, and in the annoyance thence resulting one is apt to overlook the real merit of the performance. It is better than Lodge's Rosalynd for this reason, if for no other, that it is shorter. I must condense so much of the tale as may suffice to indicate the nature and extent of the Poet's obligations.

Pandosto, King of Bohemia, and Egistus, King of Sicilia, had passed their boyhood together, and grown into a mutual friendship which kept its hold on them long after coming to their crowns. Pandosto had for his wife a very wise and beautiful lady named Bellaria, who had made him the father of a prince called Garinter in whom both himself and his people greatly delighted. After many years of separation, Egistus "sailed into

Bohemia to visit his old friend," who, hearing of his arrival, went with a great train of lords and ladies to meet him, received him very lovingly, and wished his wife to welcome him. No pains were spared to honour the royal visitor and make him feel at home. Bellaria, "to show how much she liked him whom her husband loved," treated Egistus with great confidence, often going herself to his chamber to see that nothing should be amiss. This honest familiarity increased from day to day, insomuch that when Pandosto was busy with State affairs they would walk into the garden and pass their time in pleasant devices. After a while, Pandosto began to have doubtful thoughts, considering the beauty of his wife, and the comeliness and bravery of his friend. This humour growing upon him, he went to watching them, and fishing for proofs to confirm his suspicions. At length his mind got so charged with jealousy that he felt quite certain of the thing he feared, and studied for nothing so much as revenge. He resolved to work by poison, and called upon his cup-bearer, Franion, to execute the scheme, and pressed him to it with the alternative of preferment or death. The minister, after trying his best to dissuade the King, at last gave his consent, in order to gain time, then went to Egistus, and told him the secret, and fled with him to Sicilia. Full of rage at being thus baffled, Pandosto then let loose his fury against the Queen, ordering her forthwith into close prison. He then had his suspicion proclaimed as a certain truth; and though her character went far to discredit the charge, yet the sudden flight of Egistus caused it to be believed. And he would fain have made war on Egistus, but that the latter not only was of great strength and prowess, but had many kings in his alliance, his wife being daughter to the Emperor of Russia.

Meanwhile the Queen in prison gave birth to a daughter; which put the King in a greater rage than ever, insomuch that he ordered both the mother and the babe to be burnt alive. Against this cruel sentence his nobles stoutly remonstrated; but the most they could gain was, that he should spare the child's life; his next device being to put her in a boat and leave her to the mercy of the winds and waves. At the hearing of this hard doom, the Queen fell down in a trance, so that all thought

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