Chapter I: Part 1

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

SAMUEL JOHNSON

NOTES TO SHAKESPEARE

Vol. III

Tragedies

Edited, with an Introduction, by Arthur Sherbo

Los Angeles William Andrews Clark Memorial Library University of California 1958

GENERAL EDITORS

Richard C. Boys, _University of Michigan_

Ralph Cohen, _University of California, Los Angeles_

Vinton A. Dearing, _University of California, Los Angeles_

Lawrence Clark Powell, _Clark Memorial Library_

ASSISTANT EDITOR

W. Earl Britton, _University of Michigan_

ADVISORY EDITORS

Emmett L. Avery, _State College of Washington_

Benjamin Boyce, _Duke University_

Louis Bredvold, _University of Michigan_

John Butt, _King's College, University of Durham_

James L. Clifford, _Columbia University_

Arthur Friedman, _University of Chicago_

Louis A. Landa, _Princeton University_

Samuel H. Monk, _University of Minnesota_

Ernest C. Mossner, _University of Texas_

James Sutherland, _University College, London_

H. T. Swedenberg, Jr., _University of California, Los Angeles_

CORRESPONDING SECRETARY

Edna C. Davis, _Clark Memorial Library_

Introduction on Tragedies

Dr. Johnson's reaction to Shakespeare's tragedies is a curious one, compounded as it is of deep emotional involvement in a few scenes in some plays and a strange dispassionateness toward most of the others. I suspect that his emotional involvement took root when he read Shakespeare as a boy--one remembers the terror he experienced in reading of the Ghost in _Hamlet_, and it was probably also as a boy that he suffered that shock of horrified outrage and grief at the death of Cordelia that prevented him from rereading the scene until be came to edit the play. Johnson's deepest feelings and convictions, Professor Clifford has recently reminded us, can be traced back to his childhood and adolescence. But it is surprising to learn, as one does from his commentary, that other scenes in these very plays (_Hamlet_ and _King Lear_, and in _Macbeth_, too) leave him unmoved, if one can so interpret the absence of any but an explanatory note on, say, Lear's speech beginning "Pray, do not mock me;/I am a very foolish fond old man." Besides this negative evidence there is also the positive evidence of many notes which display the dispassionate editorial mind at work where one might expect from Johnson an outburst of personal feeling. There are enough of these outbursts to warrant our expecting others, but we are too frequently disappointed. Perhaps Johnson thought of most of Shakespeare's tragedies as "imperial tragedies" and that is why he could maintain a stance of aloofness; conversely, "the play of _Timon_ is a domestick Tragedy, and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of the reader." But the "tragedy" of Timon does not capture the attention of the modern reader, and perhaps all attempts to fix Johnson's likes and dislikes, and the reasons for them, in the canon of Shakespeare's plays must circle endlessly without ever getting to their destination.

TRAGEDIES

Vol. IV

MACBETH

(392) Most of the notes which the present editor has subjoined to this play were published by him in a small pamphlet in 1745.

I.i (393,*) _Enter three Witches_] In order to make a true estimate of the abilities and merit of a writer, it it always necessary to examine the genius of his age, and the opinions of his contemporaries. A poet who should now make the whole action of his tragedy depend upon enchantment, and produce the chief events by the assistance of supernatural agents, would be censured as transgressing the bounds of probability, be banished from the theatre to the nursery, and condemned to write fairy tales instead of tragedies; but a survey of the notions that prevailed at the time when this play was written, will prove that Shakespeare was in no danger of such censures, since he only turned the system that was then universally admitted, to his advantage, and was far from overburthening the credulity of his audience.

The reality of witchcraft or enchantment, which, though not strictly the same, are confounded in this play, has in all ages and countries been credited by the common people, and in most, by the learned themselves. These phantoms have indeed appeared more frequently, in proportion as the darkness of ignorance has been more gross; but it cannot be shown, that the brightest gleams of knowledge have at any time been sufficient to drive them out of the world. The time in which this kind of credulity was at its height, seems to have been that of the holy war, in which the Christians imputed all their defeats to enchantments or diabolical opposition, as they ascribed their success to the assistance of their military saints; and the learned Dr. Warburton appears to believe (_Suppl. to the Introduction to Don Quixote_) that the first accounts of enchantments were brought into this part of the world by those _who_ returned from their eastern expeditions. But there is always some distance between the birth and maturity of folly as of wickedness: this opinion had long existed, though perhaps the application of it had in no foregoing age been so frequent, nor the reception so general. Olympiodorus, in Photius's extracts, tells us of one Libanius, who practised this kind of military magic, and having promised [Greek: choris opliton kata barbaron energein] to perform great things against the Barbarians without soldiers, was, at the instances of the empress Placidia, put to death, when he was about to have given proofs of his abilities. The empress shewed some kindness in her anger by cutting him off at a time so convenient for his reputation.

But a more remarkable proof of the antiquity of this notion may be found in St. Chrysostom's book _de Sacerdotia_, which exhibits a scene of enchantments not exceeded by any romance of the middle age: he supposes a spectator overlooking a field of battle attended by one that points out all the various objects of horror, the engines of destruction, and the arts of slaughter. [Greek: Deichnuto de eti para tois enantiois kai petomenous hippous dia tinos magganeias, kai oplitas di' aeros pheromenous, kai pasaen goaeteias dunomin kai idean.] _Let him then proceed to shew him in the opposite armies horses flying by enchantment, armed men transported through the air, and every power and form of magic._ Whether St. Chrysostom believed that such performances were really to be seen in a day of battle, or only endeavoured to enliven his description, by adopting the notions of the vulgar, it is equally certain, that such nations were in his time received, and that therefore they were not imported from the Saracens in a later age; the wars with the Saracens however gave occasion to their propagation, not only as bigotry naturally discovers prodigies, but as the scene of action was removed to a great distance.

The Reformation did not immediately arrive at its meridian, and though day was gradually encreasing upon us, the goblins of witchcraft still continued to hover in the twilight. In the time of queen Elizabeth was the remarkable trial of the witches of Warbois, whose conviction is still commemorated in an annual sermon at Huntingdon. But in the reign of king James, in which this tragedy was written, many circumstances concurred to propagate and confirm this opinion. The king, who was much celebrated for his knowledge, had, before his arrival in England, not only examined in person a woman accused of witchcraft, but had given a very formal account of the practices and illusions of evil spirits, the compacts of witches, the ceremonies used by them, the manner of detecting them, and the justice of punishing them, in his dialogues of _Daemonologie_, written in the Scottish dialect, and published at Edinburgh. This book was, soon after his accession, reprinted at London, and as the ready way to gain king James's favour was to flatter his speculations, the system of _Daemonologie_ was immediately adopted by all who desired either to gain preferment or not to lose it. Thus the doctrine of witchcraft was very powerfully inculcated; and as the greatest part of mankind have no other reason for their opinions than that they are in fashion, it cannot be doubted but this persuasion made a rapid progress, since vanity and credulity co-operated in its favour. The infection soon reached the parliament, who, in the first year of king James, made a law, by which it was enacted, chap. xii. "That if any person shall use any invocation or conjuration of any evil or wicked spirit; 2. or shall consult, covenant with, entertain, employ, feed or reward any evil or cursed spirit to or for any intent or purpose; 3. or take up any dead man, woman or child out of the grave,--or the skin, bone, or any part of the dead person, to be employed or used in any manner of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; 4. or shall use, practise or exercise any sort of witchcraft, sorcery, charm, or enchantment; 5. whereby any person shall be destroyed, killed, wasted, consumed, pined, or lamed in any part of the body; 6. That every such person being convicted shall suffer death." This law was repealed in our own time.

Thus, in the time of Shakespeare, was the doctrine of witchcraft at once established by law and by the fashion, and it became not only unpolite, but criminal, to doubt it; and as prodigies are always seen in proportion as they are expected, witches were every day discovered, and multiplied as fast in some places, that bishop Hall mentions a village in Lancashire, where their number was greater than that of the houses. The jesuits and sectaries took advantage of this universal error, and endeavoured to promote the interest of their parties by pretended cures of persons afflicted by evil spirits; but they were detected and exposed by the clergy of the established church.

Upon this general infatuation Shakespeare might be easily allowed to found a play, especially since he has followed with great exactness such histories as were then thought true; nor can it be doubted that the scenes of enchantment, however they may now be ridiculed, were both by himself and his audience thought awful and affecting.

I.i.10 (396,5) Fair is foul, and foul is fair] I believe the meaning is, that _to us_, perverse and malignant as we are, _fair is foul, and foul is fair_.

I.ii.14 (398,9) And Fortune, on his damned quarry smiling] Thus the old copy; but I am inclined to read _quarrel_. _Quarrel_ was formerly used for _cause_, or for _the occasion of a quarrel_, and is to be found in that sense in Hollingshed's account of the story of Macbeth, who, upon the creation of the prince of Cumberland, thought, says the historian, that he had _a just quarrel_, to endeavour after the crown. The sense therefore is, _Fortune smiling on his excrable cause_, &c. This is followed by Dr. Warburten. (see 1765, VI, 373, 4).

I.ii.28 (400,4) Discomfort swells] _Discomfort_ the natural opposite to _comfort_. _Well'd_, for _flawed_, was an emendation. The common copies have, _discomfort swells_.

I.ii.37 (400,5) As cannons overcharg'd with double cracks,
So they
Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe]

Mr. Theobald has endeavoured to improve the sense of this passage by altering the punctuation thus:

--_they were
As cannons overcharg'd, with double cracks
So they redoubled strokes_--

He declares, with some degree of exultation, that he has no idea of a _cannon charged with double cracks_; but surely the great author will not gain much by an alteration which makes him say of a hero, that he _redoubles strokes with double cracks_, an expression not more loudly to be applauded, or more easily pardoned than that which is rejected in its favour. That a cannon is charged _with thunder_, or _with double thunders_, may be written, not only without nonsense, but with elegance, and nothing else is here meant by _cracks_, which in the time of this writer was a word of such emphasis and dignity, that in this play he terms the general dissolution of nature the _crack of doom_.

The old copy reads,

_They doubly redoubled strokes_.

I.ii.46 (401,8) So should he look, that seems to speak things strange] The meaning of this passage, as it now stands, is, _so should he look, that looks as if he told things strange_. But Rosse neither yet told strange things, nor could look as if he told them; Lenox only conjectured from his air that he had strange things to tell, and therefore undoubtedly said,

_What haste looks thro' his eyes?
So should he look, that_ teems _to speak thinks strange_.

He looks like one that _is big with_ something of importance; a metaphor so natural that it is every day used in common discourse.

I.ii.55 (402,1) Confronted him with self-comparisons] [Theobald interpreted "him" as Cawdor; Johnson, in 1745, accused Shakespeare of forgetfulness on the basis of Theobald's error; and Warburton here speaks of "blunder upon blunder."] The second blunderer was the present editor.

I.iii.6 (403,5) _Aroint thee, witch_!] In one of the folio editions the reading is _Anoint thee_, in a sense very consistent with the common accounts of witches, who are related to perform many supernatural acts by the means of unguents, and particularly to fly through the air to the places where they meet at their hellish festivals. In this sense, _anoint thee, Witch_, will mean, _Away, Witch, to your infernal assembly_. This reading I was inclined to favour, because I had met with the word _aroint_ in no other authour till looking into Hearne's Collections I found it in a very old drawing, that he has published, in which St. Patrick is represented visiting hell, and putting the devils into great confusion by his presence, of whom one that is driving the damned before him with a prong, has a label issuing out of his mouth with these words, OUT OUT ARONGT, of which the last is evidently the same with _aroint_, and used in the same sense as in this passage.

I.iii.15 (405,8) And the very points they blew] As the word _very_ is here of no other use than to fill up the verse, it is likely that Shakespeare wrote _various_, which might be easily mistaken for _very_, being either negligently read, hastily pronounced, or imperfectly heard.

I.iii.21 (405,9) He shall live a man forbid] Mr. Theobald has very justly explained _forbid_ by _accursed_, but without giving any reason of his interpretation. To _bid_ is originally _to pray_, as in this Saxon fragment,

Ethe iy şiy ş bit y bote
_He is wise that_ prays and makes amends.

As to forbid_ therefore implies to _prohibit_, in opposition to the word _bid_ in its present sense, it signifies by the same kind of opposition to _curse_, when it is derived from the same word in its primitive meaning.

I.iii.42 (409,3) are you aught/That man may question?] Are ye any beings with which man is permitted to hold converse, or of which it is lawful _to ask questions_?

I.iii.53 (410,5) Are ye fantastical] By _fantastical_, he means creatures of fantasy or imagination; the question is, Are these real beings before us, or are we deceived by illusions of fancy?

I.iii.97 (412,8) As thick as tale] [As thick as hail] Was Mr. Pope's correction. The old copy has,

--_As thick_ as tale
_Can_ post _with_ post;--

which perhaps is not amiss, meaning that the news came as _thick_ as a _tale_ can _travel_ with the _post_. Or we may read, perhaps yet better,

--_As thick as tale_
Came _post with post_;--

That is, posts arrived as fast as they could be counted.

I.iii.130 (414,4) This supernatural solliciting] _Solliciting_ is rather, in my opinion, _incitement_ than _information_.

I.iii.134 (414,5) why do I yield] To _yield_ is, simply, to _give way to_.

I.iii.137 (414,6) Present fears/Are less than horrible imaginings] [W: feats] _Present fears_ are _fears of things present_, which Macbeth declares, and every man has found, to be less than the _imagination_ presents them while the objects are yet distant. _Fears_ is right.

I.iii.140 (415,7) single state of man] The _single state of man_ seems to be used by Shakespeare for an _individual_, in opposition to a _commonwealth_, or _conjunct body_.

I.iii.40 (415,8) function/Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is,/ But what is not] All powers of action are oppressed and crushed by one overwhelming image in the mind, and nothing is present to me, but that which is really future. Of things now about me I have no perception, being intent wholly on that which has yet no existence.

I.iii.147 (415,9) Time and the hour runs through the roughest day] I suppose every reader is disgusted at the tautology in this passage, _Time and the hour_, and will therefore willingly believe that Shakespeare wrote it thus,

_Come what come may_,
Time! on!--_the hour runs thro' the roughest day_.

Macbeth is deliberating upon the events which are to befall him, but finding no satisfaction from his own thoughts, he grows impatient of reflection, and resolves to wait the close without harrassing hinaelf with conjectures.

_Come what come may_.

But to shorten the pain of suspense, he calls upon Time In the usual stile of ardent desire, to quicken his motion,

_Time! on!_ --

He then comforts himself with the reflection that all his perplexity must have an end,

--_the hour runs thro' the roughest day._

This conjecture is supported by the passage in the letter to his lady, in which he says, _they referred me to the_ coming on of time, _with Hail, King that shalt be_.

I.iii.149 (416,1) My dull brain was wrought] My head was _worked_, _agitated_, put into commotion.

I.iv.9 (417,3) studied in his death] Instructed in the art of dying. It was usual to say _studied_, for _learned_ in science.

I.iv.12 (417,4) To find the mind's construction in the face] The _construction of the mind_ is, I believe, a phrase peculiar to Shakespeare; it implies the _frame_ or _disposition_ of the mind, by which it is determined to good or ill.

I.iv.26 (418,5) Which do but what they should, by doing everything, Safe toward your love and honour] Of the last line of this speech, which is certainly, as it is now read, unintelligible, an emendation has been attempted, which Dr. Warburton and Dr. Theobald once admitted as the true reading:

--_our duties
Are to your throne and state, children and servants,
Which do but what they should, in doing every thing_
Fiefs _to your love and honour._

My esteem for these critics inclines me to believe that they cannot be much pleased with these expressions _fiefs to love_, or _fiefs to honour_, and that they have proposed this alteration rather because no other occured to them, than because they approved of it. I shall therefore propose a bolder change, perhaps with no better success, but _sua cuique placent_. I read thus,

--_our duties
Are to your throne and state, children and servants
Which do but what they should, in doing_ nothing,
Save _toward_ your love and honour.

We do but perform our duty when we contract all our views to your service, when we act with _no other_ principle than regard to _your love and honour_.

It is probable that this passage was first corrupted by writing _safe_ for _save_, and the lines then stood thus:

--_doing nothing
Safe toward your love and honour._

which the next transcriber observing to be wrong, and yet not being able to discover the real fault, altered to the present reading.

Dr. Warburton has since changed _fiefs_ to _fief'd_, and Hanmer has altered _safe_ to _shap'd_. I am afraid none of us have hit the right word.

I.v.2 (420, 6) _by the perfected report_] By the best intelligence. Dr. Warburton would read, _perfected_, and explains _report_ by _prediction_. Little regard can be paid to an emendation that instead of clearing the sense, makes it more difficult.

I.v.23 (420, 7) thoud'st have, great Glamis,/That which cries, _Thus thou must do, if thou have it_] As the object of Macbeth's desire is here introduced speaking of itself, it is necessary to read,

--_thoud'st have, great Glamis,
That which cries_, thus thou must do, if thou have _me_.

I.v.39 (422, 8) The raven himself is hoarse] Dr. Warburton reads,

--_The raven himself's_ not _hoarse_.

Yet I think the present words may stand. The messenger, says the servant, had hardly breath _to make up his message_; to which the lady answers mentally, that he may well want breath, such a message would add hoarseness to the raven. That even the bird, whose harsh voice is accustomed to predict calamities, could not _croak the entrance of_ Duncan but in a note of unwonted harshness.

I.v.42 (422, 2) mortal thoughts] This expression signifies not _the thoughts of mortals_, but _murtherous, deadly_, or _destructive designs_. So in act 5,

_Hold fast the_ mortal _sword_.

And in another place,

_With twenty_ mortal _murthers_.

I.v.47 (422, 3) nor keep peace between/The effect, and it!] The intent of lady Macbeth evidently is to wish that no womanish tenderness, or conscientious remorse, may hinder her purpose from proceeding to effect; but neither this, nor indeed any other sense, is expressed by the present reading, and therefore it cannot be doubted that Shakespeare wrote differently, perhaps thus,

_That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep_ pace _between
Th' effect, and it_.--

To _keep_ pace _between_ may signify _to pass between_, to _intervene_. _Pace_ is on many occasions a favourite of Shakespeare's. This phrase is indeed not usual in this sease, but was it not its novelty that gave occasion to the present corruption? [The sense is, _that no compunctious visitings of nature_ may prevail upon her, to give place in her mind to _peaceful_ thoughts, or to rest one moment in quiet, from the hour of her purpose to its full completion in the effect. REVISAL.] This writer thought himself perhaps very sagacious that be found a meaning which nobody missed, the difficulty still remains how such a meaning is made by the words. (see 1765, VI, 394, 6)

I.v.49 (423, 5) take my milk for gall] _Take_ away _my milk_, and put _gall_ into the place.

I.v.51 (423, 6) You wait on nature's mischief!] _Nature's mischief_ is mischief done to nature, violation of nature's order committed by wickedness.

I.v.55 (423,8) To cry, _hold, hold_!] On this passage there is a long criticism in the _Rambler_.

I.v.58 (424,1) This ignorant present time] _Ignorant_ has here the signification of _unknowing_; that it, I feel by anticipation these future hours, of which, according to the process of nature, the present time would be _ignorant_.

I.vi.3 (425,3) our gentle senses] _Senses_ are nothing more _than each man's sense_. _Gentle senses_ is very elegant, as it means _placid_, _calm_, _composed_, and intimates the peaceable delight of a fine day. (see 1765, VI,396,2)

I.vi.7 (426,5) coigne of 'vantage] Convenient corner.

I.vi.13 (426,7) How you should bid god-yield as for your pains] I believe _yield_, or, as it is in the folio of 1623, _eyld_, is a corrupted contraction of _shield_. The wish implores not _reward_ but _protection_.

I.vii.1 (428,1) If it were _done_] A man of learning recommends another punctuation:

_If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well.
It were done quickly, if, &c._

I.vii.2 (428,2) If the assassination/Could tramel up the consequence] Of this soliloquy the meaning is not very clear; I have never found the readers of Shakespeare agreeing about it. I understand it thus,

"If that which I am about to do, when it is once _done_ and executed, were _done_ and ended without any following effects, it would then be best _to do it quickly_; if the murder could terminate in itself, and restrain the regular course of consequences, if _its success_ could secure _its surcease_, if being once done _successfully_, without detection, it could _fix a period_ to all vengeance and enquiry, so that _this blow_ might be all that I have to do, and this anxiety all that I have to suffer; if this could be my condition, even _here_ in _this world_, in this contracted period of temporal existence, on this narrow _bank_ in the ocean of eternity, _I would jump the life to come_, I would venture upon the deed without care of any future state. But this is one of _these cases_ in which judgment is pronounced and vengeance inflicted upon as _here_ in our present life. We teach others to do as we have done, and are punished by our own example." (1773)

I.vii.4 (428,3) With his surcease, success] I think the reasoning requires that we should read,

_With its_ success surcease.

I.vii.6 (429,4) shoal of time] This is Theobald's emendation, undoubtedly right. The old edition has _school_, and Dr. Warburton _shelve_.

I.vii.22 (429,7) or heavens cherubin, hors'd/Upon the sightless couriers of the air] [W: couriers] _Courier_ is only _runner_. _Couriers of air_ are _winds_, air in motion. _Sightless_ is _invisible_.

I.vii.25 (430,8) That tears shall drown the wind] Alluding to the remission of the wind in a shower.

I.vii.28 (430,9) _Enter Lady_] The arguments by which lady Macbeth persuades her husband to commit the murder, afford a proof of Shakespeare's knowledge of human nature. She urges the excellence and dignity of courage, a glittering idea which has dazzled mankind from age to age, and animated sometimes the house-breaker, and sometimes the conqueror; but this sophism Macbeth has for ever destroyed, by distinguishing true from false fortitude, in a line and a half; of which it may almost be said, that they ought to bestow immortality on the author, though all his other productions had been lost:

_I dare do all that become a man,
Who dares do more, is none_.

This topic, which has been always employed with too much success, is used in this scene with peculiar propriety, to a soldier by a woman. Courage is the distinguishing virtue of a soldier, and the reproach of cowardice cannot be borne by any man from a woman, without great impatience.

She then urges the oaths by which he had bound himself to murder Duncan, another art of sophistry by which men have sometimes deluded their consciences, and persuaded themselves that what would be criminal in others is virtuous in them; this argument Shakespeare, whose plan obliged him to make Macbeth yield, has not confuted, though he might easily have shewn that a former obligation could not be vacated by a latter: that obligations laid on us by a higher power, could not be over-ruled by obligations which we lay upon ourselves.

I.vii.41 (431,1)

--Whouldst thou have that,
Which then esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem?]

In this there seems to be no reasoning. I should read,

Or _live a coward in thine own esteem_?

Unless we choose rather,

--_Wouldst thou_ leave _that_.

I.vii.45 (431,2) Like the poor cat i' the adage?] The adage alluded to is, _The cat loves fish, but dares not wet her feet, Catus amat pisces, sed men vult tingere plantas_.

I.vii.64 (432,5) Will I with wine and wassel so convince] To _convince_ is in Shakespeare to _overpower_ or _subdue_, as in this play,

--_Their malady_ convinces
_The great assay of art_.

I.vii.67 (433,6) A limbeck only] That is, shall be only a vessel to emit _fumes_ or _vapours_.

I.vii.71 (433,7) our great quell] _Quell_ is _murder_. _manquellers_ being in the old language the term for which _murderers_ is now used.

II.i (434,8) _Enter Banquo, and Fleance with a torch before him_] The place is not mark'd in the old edition, nor is it easy to say where this encounter can be. It is not in the _hall_, as the editors have all supposed it, for Banquo sees the sky; it is not far from the bedchamber, as the conversation shews: it must be in the inner court of the castle, which Banquo might properly cross in his way to bed.

II.i.25 (435,2) If you shall cleave to my consent, Then 'tis,/It shall make honour for you] Macbeth expressed his thought with affected obscurity; he does not mention the royalty, though he apparently has it in his mind, _If you shall cleave to my consent_, if you shall concur with me when I determine to accept the crown, _when 'tis_, when that happens which the prediction promises, _it shall make honour for you_.

II.i.49 (437,6) Now o'er the one half world/Nature seems dead] That is, _over our hemisphere all action and motion seem to have ceased_. This image, which is perhaps the most striking that poetry can produce, has been adopted by Dryden in his _Conquest of Mexico_:

_All things are hush'd as Nature's self lay dead,
The mountains seem to nod their drowsy head;
The little birds in dreams their song repeat,
And sleeping flow'rs beneath the night dews sweat.
Even lust and envy sleep!_

These lines, though so well known, I have transcribed, that the contrast between them and this passage of Shakespeare may be more accurately observed.

Night is described by two great poets, but one describes a night of quiet, the other of perturbation. In the night of Dryden, all the disturbers of the world are laid asleep; in that of Shakespeare, nothing but sorcery, lust, and murder, is awake. He that reads Dryden, finds himself lull'd with serenity, and disposed to solitude and contemplation. He that peruses Shakspeare looks round alarmed, and starts to find himself alone. One is the night of a lover, the other, of a murderer.

II.i.52 (438,8)

--wither'd Murther,
--thus with hia stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his design
moves like a ghost.--]

This was the reading of this passage [ravishing sides] in all the editions before that of Mr. Pope, who for _sides_, inserted in the text _strides_, which Mr. Theobald has tacitly copied from him, though a more proper alteration might perhaps have been made. A _ravishing stride_ is an action of violence, impetuosity, and tumult, like that of a savage rushing at his prey; whereas the poet is here attempting to exhibit an image of secrecy and caution, of anxious circumspection and guilty timidity, the _stealthy pace_ of a _ravisher_ creeping into the chamber of a virgin, and of an assassin approaching the bed of him whom he proposes to murder, without awaking him; these he describes as _moving like ghosts_, whose progression is so different from _strides_, that it has been in all ages represented te be, as Milton expresses it,

_Smooth sliding without step_.

This hemiatic will afford the true reading of this place, which is, I think, to be corrected thus:

--_and wither'd Murder_.
--_thus with his_ stealthy _pace_.
_With Tarquin ravishing_, slides _tow'rds his design_,
_Moves like a ghost_.--

_Tarquin_ is in this place the general name of a ravisher, and the sense is, Now is the time in which every one is a-sleep, but those who are employed in wickedness; the witch who is sacrificing to Hecate, and the ravisher, and the murderer, who, like me, are stealing upon their prey.

When the reading is thus adjusted, he wishes with great propriety, in the following lines, that the _earth_ may not _hear his steps_.

II.i.59 (439,3) And take the present horrour from the time,/Which now suits with it] Of this passage an alteration was once proposed by me, of which I have now a less favourable opinion, yet will insert it, as it may perhaps give some hint to other critics:

_And take the present horrour from the time,
Which now suits with it_.--

I believe every one that has attentively read this dreadful soliloquy is disappointed at the conclusion, which, if not wholly unintelligible, is, at least, obscure, nor can be explained into any sense worthy of the authour. I shall therefore propose a slight alteration:

--_Thou sound and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my where-about,
And talk--the present horrour of the time!
That now suits with it_.--

Macbeth has, in the foregoing lines, disturbed his imagination by enumerating all the terrors of the night; at length he is wrought up to a degree of frenzy, that makes him afraid of some supernatural discovery of his design, and calls out to the stones not to betray him, not to declare where he walks, nor _to talk_.--As he is going to say of what, he discovers the absurdity of his suspicion, and pauses, but is again overwhelmed by his guilt, and concludes, that such are the horrors of the present night, that the stones may be expected to cry out against him:

That _now suits with it_.--

He observes in a subsequent passage, that on such occasions _stones have been known to move_. It is now a very just and strong picture of a man about to commit a deliberate murder under the strongest conviction of the wickedness of his design. Of this alteration, however, I do not now see much use, and certainly see no necessity.

Whether to _take horrour from the time_ means not rather to _catch_ _it_ as communicated, than to _deprive the time of horrour_, deserves te be considered.

II.ii.37 (443,6) sleave of care] A skein of silk is called a _sleave_ of silk, as I learned from Mr. Seward, the ingenious editor of Beaumont and Fletcher.

II.ii.56 (444,8) gild the faces of the grooms withal,/For it must seem their guilt] Could Shakespeare possibly mean to play upon the similitude of _gild_ and _guilt_.

II.iii.45 (447,5) I made a shift to cast him] To _cast him up_, to ease my stomach of him. The equivocation is between _cast_ or _throw_, as a term of wrestling, and _cast_ or _cast up_.

II.iii.61 (448,7)

--strange screams of death;
And prophesying, with accents terrible
Of dire combustions, and confus'd events,
New hatch'd to the woeful time: The obscure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night: some say the earth
Was feverous, and did shake]

Those lines I think should be rather regulated thus:

--_prophecying with accents terrible,
Of dire combustions and cosfus'd events.
New-hatch'd to th' woful time, the obscure bird
Clamour'd the live-long night. Some say the earth
Was fev'rous and did shake._

A _prophecy_ of an _event new hatch'd_, seems to be a _prophecy_ of an _event past_. And _a prophecy new hatch'd_ is a wry expression. The term _new hatch'd_ is properly applicable to a _bird_, and that birds of ill omen should be _new-hatch'd to the woful time_, that is, should appear in uncommon numbers, is very consistent with the rest of the prodigies here mentioned, and with the universal disorder into which nature is described as thrown, by the perpetration of this horrid murder. (see 1765, VI, 413, 7)

II.iii.117 (452,3) Here, lay Duncan,/His silver skin lac'd with his golden blood] Mr. Pope has endeavoured to improve one of these lines by substituting _goary blood_ for _golden blood_; but it may easily be admitted that he who could on such an occasion talk of _lacing the silyer skin_, would _lace it_ with _golden blood_. No amendment can be made to this line, of which every word is equally faulty, but by a general blot.

It is not improbable, that Shakespeare put these forced and unnatural metaphors into the mouth of Macbeth as a mark of artifice and dissimulation, to shew the difference between the studied language of hypocrisy, and the natural outcries of sudden passion. This whole speech so considered, is a remarkable instance of judgment, as it consists entirely of antithesis and metaphor.

II.iii.122 (432,5) Unmannerly breech'd with gore] An _unmannerly dagger_, and a _dagger breech'd_, or as in some editions _breech'd with_, gore, are expressions not easily to be understood. There are undoubtedly two faults in this passage, which I have endeavored to take away by reading,

--_daggers_
Unmanly drench'd _with gore_:--

_I saw_ drench'd _with the King's blood the fatal daggers, not only instruments of murder but evidence of cowardice_.

Each of these words might easily be confounded with that which I have substituted for it, by a hand not exact, a casual blot, or a negligent inspection, [W: Unmanly reech'd] Dr. Warburton has, perhaps, rightly put _reach'd_ for _breech'd_.

II.iii.138 (454,8)

In the great hand of God I stand; and thence,
Against the undivulg'd pretence I fight
Of treasonous malice]

_Pretence_ is not act, but _simulation_, a _pretence_ of the traitor, whoever he might be, to suspect some other of the murder. I here fly to the protector of innocence from any charge which, yet _undivulg'd_, the traitor may pretend to fix upon me.

II.iii.147 (454,7) This murtherous shaft that's shot,/Hath not yet lighted] The design to fix the murder opon some innocent person, has not yet taken effect.

II.iv.15 (456,9) minions of their race] Theobald reads,

--_minions of_ the _race_,

very probably, and very poetically.

II.iv.24 (456,1) What good could they pretend?] To _pretend_ is here to _propose to themselves_, to _set before themselves_ as a motive of action.

III.i.7 (457,2) As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine] _Shine_, for appear with all the _lustre_ of _conspicuous_ truth.

III.i.56 (459,4) as, it is said,/Mark Anthony's was by Caesar] Though I would not often assume the critic's privilege of being confident where certainty cannot be obtained, nor indulge myself too far in departing from the established reading; yet I cannot but propose the rejection of this passage, which I believe was an insertion of some player, that having so much learning as to discover to what Shakespeare alluded, was not willing that his audience should be less knowing than himself, and has therefore weakened the authour's sense by the intrusion of a remote and useless image into a speech bursting from a man wholly possess'd with his own present condition, and therefore not at leisure to explain his own allusions to himself. If these words are taken away, by which not only the thought but the numbers are injured, the lines of Shakespeare close together without any traces of a breach.

_My genius is rebuk'd. He chid the sisters._

This note was written before I was fully acquainted with Shakespeare's manner, and I do not now think it of much weight; for though the words, which I was once willing to eject, seem interpolated, I believe they may still be genuine, and added by the authour in his revision. The authour of the _Revisal_ cannot admit the measure to be faulty. There is only one foot, he says, put for another. This is one of the effects of literature in minds not naturally perspicacious. Every boy or girl finds the metre imperfect, but the pedant comes to its defence with a tribrachys or an anapaest, and sets it right at once by applying to one language the rules of another. If we may be allowed to change feet, like the old comic writers, it will not be easy to write a line not metrical. To hint this once, is sufficient. (see 1765, VI, 424, 2)

III.i.65 (460,5) For Banquo's issue have I fil'd my mind] [W: 'filed] This mark of contraction is not necessary. To _file_ is in the bishop's _Bible_.

III.i.69 (460,6) the common enemy of man] It is always an entertainment to an inquisitive reader, to trace a sentiment to its original source; and therefore, though the term _enemy of man_, applied to the devil, is in itself natural and obvious, yet some may be pleased with being informed, that Shakespeare probably borrowed it from the first lines of the Destruction of Troy, a book which he is known to have read. This expression, however, he might have had in many other places. The word _fiend_ signifies enemy.

III.i.71 (461,7) come, Fate, into the list,/And champion me to the utterance!] This passage will be best explained by translating it into the language from whence the only word of difficulty in it is borrowed, "_Que la destinee se rende en lice, et qu'elle me donne un defi a l'outrance_." A challenge or a combat _a l'outrance_, _to extremity_, was a fix'd term in the law of arms, used when the combatants engaged with an _odium internecinum, an intention to destroy each other_, in opposition to trials of skill at festivals, or on other occasions, where the contest was only for reputation or a prize. The sense therefore is, _Let Fate, that has foredoom'd the exaltation of the sons of Banquo, enter the lists against me, with the utmost animosity, in defence of its own decrees, which I will endeavour to invalidate, whatever be the danger_. [Johnson quotes Warburton's note] After the former explication, Dr. Warburton was desirous to seem to do something; and he has therefore made _Fate_ the _marshal_, whom I had made the _champion_, and has left Macbeth to enter the lists without an opponent.

III.i.88 (462,9) Are you so gospell'd] Are you of that degree of precise virtue? _Gospeller_ was a name of contempt given by the Papists to the Lollards, the puritans of early times, and the precursors of _protestantism_.

III.i.94 (463,1) Showghes] _Showghes_ are probably what we now call _shocks_, demi-wolves, _lyciscae_; dogs bred between wolves and dogs. (1773)

III.i.95 (463,2) the valued file] In this speech the word _file_ occurs twice, and seems in both places to have a meaning different from its present use. The expression, _valued file_, evidently means, a list or catalogue of value. A station in the _file_, and not in the worst rank, may mean, a place in the list of manhood, and not in the lowest place. But _file_ seems rather to mean in this place, a post of honour; the first rank, in opposition to the last; a meaning which I have not observed in any other place. (1773)

III.i.112 (465,2) So weary with disasters, tug'd with fortune] _Tug'd with fortune_ may be, _tug'd_ or _worried_ by fortune.

III.i.130 (465,4) Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time] What is meant by _the spy of the time_, it will be found difficult to explain; and therefore sense will be cheaply gained by a slight alteration.--Macbeth is assuring the assassins that they shall not want directions to find Banquo, and therefore says,

_I will_--
_Acquaint you with_ a perfect spy _o' the time_.

Accordingly a third murderer joins them afterwards at the place of action.

_Perfect_ is _well instructed_, or _well informed_, as in this play,

_Though in your state of honour I am_ perfect.

though I am _well acquainted_ with your quality and rank. [Warburton explained this as "the critical juncture"] How the _critical juncture_ is the _spy o' the time_ I know not, but I think my own conjecture right.

III.ii.38 (467,1) nature's copy's not eternal] The _copy_, the _lease_, by which they hold their lives from nature, has its time of termination limited.

III.iii.1 (469,6) But who did bid thee join with us?] The meaning of this abrupt dialogue is this. The _perfect spy_, mentioned by Macbeth in the foregoing scene, has, before they enter upon the stage, given them the directions which were promised at the time of their agreement; yet one of the murderers suborned suspects him of intending to betray them; the other observes, that, by his exact knowledge of _what they were to do_, he appears to be employed by Macbeth, and needs not be mistrusted.

III.iv.1 (470,9) You know your own degrees, sit down: at first,/And last the hearty welcome] As this passage stands [sit down:/At first and last], not only the numbers are very imperfect, but the sense, if any can be found, weak and contemptible. The numbers will be improved by reading,

--_sit down at first,
And last a hearty welcome_.

But for _last_ should then be written _next_. I believe the true reading is,

_You know your own degrees, sit down_.--_To first
And last the hearty welcome_.

All of whatever degree, from the highest to the lowest, may be assured that their visit is well received.

III.iv.14 (471,1) 'Tis better thee without, than he within] The sense requires that this passage should be read thus:

_'Tis better_ thee _without, than_ him _within_.

That is, _I am better pleased that the blood of Banquo should be on thy face than in his body_.

The authour might mean, _It is better that Banquo's blood were on thy face, than_ he _in this room_. Expressions thus imperfect are common in his works.

III.iv.33 (472,2) the feast is sold] The meaning is,--That which ia not _given cheerfully_, cannot be called a _gift_, it is something that must be paid for. (1773)

III.iv.57 (473,3) extend his passion] Prolong his suffering; make his fit longer.

III.iv.60 (473,4) O proper stuff!] This speech is rather too long for the circumstances in which it is spoken. It had begun better at, _Shame itself_!

III.iv.63 (473,5)

Oh, these flaws, and starts,
(Impostors to true fear,) would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire,
Authoriz'd by her grandam]

_Flaws_, are _sudden gusts_. The authour perhaps wrote,

--_Those flaws and starts_,
Impostures true to fear _would well become_;
_A woman's story_,--

These symptoms of terrour 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 weaken'd by his terrours; tales told by a woman over a fire on the authority of her grandam_.

III.iv.76 (474,6) Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal] The _gentle weal_, is, the _peaceable community_, the state made quiet and safe by _human statutes_.

_Mollia securae peragebant otia gentes_.

III.iv.92 (475,7) And all to all] I once thought it should be _hail_ to all, but I now think that the present reading is right.

III.iv.105 (475,8) If trembling I inhabit] This is the original reading, which Mr. Pope changed to _inhibit_, which _inhibit_ Dr. Warburton interprets _refuse_. The old reading may stand, at least as well as the emendation. Suppose we read,

_If trembling I_ evade _it_.

III.iv.110 (476,9) Can such things be,/And overcome us, like a summer's cloud,/Without our special wonder?] [W: Can't] The alteration is introduced by a misinterpretation. The meaning is not that _these things are like a summer-cloud_, but can such wonders as these pass over us without wonder, as a casual summer cloud passes over us.

III.iv.112 (477,1) You make me strange/Even to the disposition that I owe] You produce in me an _alienation of mind_, which is probably the expression which our author intended to paraphrase.

III.iv.124 (477,2) Augurs, and understood relations] By the word _relation_ is understood the _connection_ of effects with causes; to _understand relations_ as _an angur_, is to know how these things _relate_ to each other, which have no visible combination or dependence.

III.iv.141 (479,5) You lack the season of all natures, sleep] I take the meaning to be, _you want sleep_, which _seasons_, or gives the relish to _all nature_. _Indiget somni vitae condimenti_.

III.v.24 (480,8) vaporous drop, profound] That is, a drop that has _profound_, _deep_, or _hidden_ qualities.

III.v.26 (480,9) slights] Arts; subtle practices.

III.vi (481,1) _Enter Lenox, and another Lord_] As this tragedy, like the rest of Shakespeare'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, instead of Lenox and Angus, set down Lenox and _another Lord_. The author had indeed been more indebted to the transcriber's fidelity and diligence had he committed no errors of greater importance.

III.vi.36 (482,3) and receive free honours] [_Free_ for grateful. WARBURTON.] How can _free_ be _grateful_? It may be either honours _freely bestowed_, not purchased by crimes; or honours _without slavery_, without dread of a tyrant.

IV.i (484,5) As this is the chief scene of enchantment in the play, it is proper in this place to observe, with how much judgment Shakespeare 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 Shakespeare, had a cat named Rutterkin, as the spirit of one of these 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 whence she discovered that the lady was out of his power, the power of witches being not universal, but limited, as Shakespeare 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 Shakespeare'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. Shakespeare has accordingly made one of his witches declare that she has been _killing swine_, and Dr. Harsenet observes, that about 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 night has, thirty-one,
Swelter'd venom sleeping got;
Boil thou first i'the charm'd pot_.

Toads have likewise long lain under the reproach of being by some means accessory to witchcraft, for which reason Shakespeare, 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 Theleuse, there was found at his lodgings _ingens Bufo Vitro inclusus, a great toad shut in a vial_, upon which those that prosecuted him, _Veneficium exprebrabent, charged him_, I suppose, _with witchcraft_.

_Fillet of fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bakae:
Eye of newt, and toe of frog;--
For a charm, &c_.

The propriety of these ingredients may be known by consulting the books _de Viribus Animalium_ and _de Mirabilibus Mundi_, ascribed to Albertus Magnus, in which the reader, who has 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 Shakespeare, on this great occasion, which involves the fate of a king, multiplies all the circumstanaces 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--
Black spirits and white,
Blue spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle say_.

And in a former part,

--_weyward sisters, hand in hand,--
Thus do go about, about.
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine.
And thrice again to make up nine!_

These two passages I have brought together, because they both seem subject to the objection of too much levity for the solemnity of enchantment, and may both be shewn, by one quotation from Camden's account of Ireland, to be founded upon a practice really observed by the uncivilised natives of that country: "When any one gets a fall, _says the informer of Camden_, he starts up, and, _turning three times to the right_, digs a hole in the earth; for they imagine that there is 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 south, from the groves, the woods, the rivers, and the fens, from the fairies _red, black, white_." There was likewise a book written before the time of Shakespeare, describing, amongst other properties, the _colours_ of spirits.

Many other circumstances might be particularised, in which Shakespeare has shown his judgment and his knowledge.

IV.i.53 (489,6) yesty waves] That is, _foaming_ or _frothy waves_.

IV.i.88 (491,1) the round/And top of sovereignty?] This _round_ is that part of the crown that encircles the head. The _top_ is the ornament that rises above it.

IV.i.95 (492,3) Who can impress the forest] i.e. who can command the forest to serve him like a soldier impress'd. (1773)

IV.i.97 (492,4) Rebellious head, rise never] Mr. Theobald, who first proposed this change ["head" for "dead"] rightly observes, that _head_ means _host_, or power.

--_Douglas and the rebels met,
A mighty and a fearful_ head _they are_.

And again,

_His divisions--are in three heads_.

IV.i.113 (493,6) Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls] The expression of Macbeth, that the _crown_ sears _his_ eye-balls, is taken from the method formerly practised of destroying the sight of captives or competitors, by holding a burning bason before the eye, which dried up its humidity. Whence the Italian, _abacinare_, to _blind_.

IV.i.113 (493,7) And thy air,/Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first:--/A third is like the former] In former editions,

--_and thy_ hair,
_Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first_:--
_A third is like the former_:--