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Sincklo. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour

2 means.

Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent.
Well, you are come to me in happy time,
The rather for I have fome fport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can affift me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modefties;
Left, over-eying of his odd behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a play,)
You break into fome merry paffion,
And fo offend him : for I tell you, firs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.

Play. Fear not my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the verieft antick in the world. 3

Lord.

2 I think, 'twas Soto- ] I take our author here to be paying a compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Women pleas'd, in which comedy there is the character of Soto, who is a farmer's fon, and a very facetious ferving-man. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope prefix the name of Sim to the line here spoken; but the first folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the name of one of the players here introduced, and who had played the part of Soto with applaufe. THEOBALD.

As both the quarto and folio prefix the name of Sincklo to this line, why should we difplace it? Sincklo is a name elsewhere used by Shakespeare. In one of the parts of Henry VI. Humphrey and Sincklo enter with their bows, as foresters.

With this obfervation I was favoured by a learned lady, and have replaced the old reading. STEEVENS.

3-in the world.] Here follows another infertion made by Mr. Pope from the old play, which is neither found in the quarto, 1631, nor in the folio, 1623. I have therefore funk it into a note, as we have no proof that the first sketch of the play was written by Shakespeare.

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2 Play. [to the other] Go, get a difh-clout to make clean your fhoes, and I'll fpeak for the properties. [Exit Player. "My lord, we must have a fhoulder of mutton for a property, "and a little vinegar to make our devil roar.” †

The

Property] in the language of a playhoufe, is every implement neceffary to the exhibition. JOHNSON.

VOL. III,

A a

† a little

Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome, every one: Let them want nothing that the house affords.— [Exit one with the players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, And fee him drefs'd in all fuits like a lady : That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, And call him madam, do him obeifance. Tell him from me, (as he will win my love) He bear himfelf with honourable action, Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished; Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy; And fay, What is't your honour will command, Wherein your lady and your humble wife, May fhew her duty, and make known her love? And then with kind embracements, tempting kiffes, And with declining head into his bofom,

The foulder of mutton was indeed neceffary afterwards for the dinner of Petruchio, but there is no devil in the piece, neither were the players yet informed what comedy they fhould reprefent.

STEEVENS.

a little vinegar to make our devil roar.] When the acting the , myfteries of the Old and New Teftament was in vogue; at the reprefentation of the mytery of the Paffion, Judas and the Devil made a part. And the Devil, wherever he came, was always to fuffer fome difgrace, to make the people laugh as here, the buffoonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar. And the Pathion being that, of all the myfteries, which was moft frequently reprefented, vinegar became at length the ftanding implement to torment the devil; and ufed for this purpofe even after the myfteries ceafed, and the mo ralities came in vogue; where the Devil continued to have a confi. derable part. The mention of it here was to ridicule fo abfurd a circumftance in thefe old farces. WARBURTON.

The bladder of vinegar was likewife ufed for other purposes. I meet with the following ftage direction in the old play of Cambyfes (by T. Prefton) when one of the characters is fuppofed to die from the wounds he had just received -Here let a fmail bladder of vinegar be prick d. I fuppole to counterfeit blood: red-wine vinegar was chiefly uled, as appears from the old books of cookery. STEEVENS.

4

Bid

Bid him fhed tears, as being over-joy'd
To fee her noble lord reftor'd to health,
Who for twice feven years hath efteemed him "
No better than a poor and loathfome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a fhower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for fuch a fhift;
Which in a napkin being clofe convey'd,
Shall in defpight enforce a watery eye.
See this difpatch'd, with all the hafte thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions.

[Exit Servant. I know, the boy will well ufurp the grace, 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 fimple peafant. I'll in to counfel them: haply, my prefence May well abate the over-merry fpleen;

Which otherwife will go into extremes. [Exit Lord.

• Who for twice feven years

-] In former editions, Who for thefe feven years bath efteem'd himself

No better than a poor and loathfome beggar.

I have ventured to alter a word here, against the authority of the printed copies; and hope, I fhall be juftified in it by two fubfequent paffages. That the poet defigned, the tinker's fuppofed unacy fhould be of 'fourteen years ftanding at least, is evident upon two parallel paffages in the play to that purpose.

7 An onion

THEOBALD.

-It is not unlikely that the onion was an expedient ufed by the actors of interludes. JOHNSON.

So in Anthony and Cleopatra:

The tears live in
This forrow.

an

onion that should water
STEEVENS.

A a 2

SCENE

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Enter Sly with Attendants, some with apparel, bason and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord.

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

1 Man. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of fack?

2 Man. Will't please your honour taste of these conferves?

3 Man. What raiment will your honour wear today?

Sly. I am Christophero Sly, call not me-Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life; and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of beef. Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, fometimes, more feet than fhoes, or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your ho-
nour!

Oh, that a mighty man, of such descent,
Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high efteem,
Should be infused with so foul a fpirit!

Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bear-herd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if fhe fay, I am

of Burton-beath Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot.] I fufpect we should read Barton-heath. Barton and Woodmancot, or, as it is vulgarly pronounced, Woncot, are both of them in Glofterfhire, near the refidence of Shakespeare's old enemy, Juftice Shallow. Very probably too, this fat ale-wife might be a real character. STEEVENS.

not fourteen-pence on the score for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not beftraught: Here's-

1 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your fervants droop.

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

As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy.

Oh, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth;
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look, how thy fervants do attend on thee;
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have mufick? hark! Apollo plays,
[Mufick.

And twenty caged nightingales do fing.

Or wilt thou fleep? 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 beftrow the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trapp'd,
Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl.
Doft thou love hawking? thou haft hawks, will foar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds fhall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch fhrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Man. Say, thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed ftags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee ftrait

Adonis, painted by a running brook;

And Cytherea all in fedges hid;

Which feem to move and wanton with her breath,

Even as the waving fedges play with wind.

A a 3

Lord.

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