Chrystinmas by stranegers in my house, after 20d. every play, by estimacion somme 33s. 4d. Which ys apoynted to be paid to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy at the said Christynmas, in full contentacion of the said rewardys, 33s. 4d."

"A Bedchamber in the Lord's House."-Induction, Scene 2.

The original stage direction in the folio here is, "Enter aloft the Drunkard with Attendants." It appears that Sly and the other characters in the Induction were, at this time and during the representation of the comedy, intended to be exhibited in a balcony above the stage. So afterwards, at the end of this act, there is a direction,-"The Presenters above speak."

"For God's sake, a pot of small ale."-Induction, Scene 2.

This beverage is mentioned in the accounts of the Stationers' Company for the year 1558:-"For a stande of small ale." It is supposed to be the same liquor as is now called small beer; no mention being made of the last in the same accounts, though "duble bere" and "duble ale" are frequently recorded. Sly subsequently reverts to his first request:-"Once again, a pot o' the smallest ale." Its thinness, which might have been an objection on the preceding day, is now its most desirable quality to the parched palate of the recovering drunkard.

"Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath?” Induction, Scene 2.

There is a village in Warwickshire called Burton (or Barton) on the Heath, in which lived Mr. Dover, founder of the Cotswold games. Wincot, the residence of Dame Hacket, is supposed to be Wilmecote, also a village in Warwickshire, about three miles north of Stratford, in which resided the poet's maternal grandfather, Robert Arden. There is also a hamlet named Wincot, about four miles from Stratford, on the road to Cheltenham.

"And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs, and no sealed quarts.” Induction, Scene 2.

The allusion is to the court-leet, or court of the manor, held before the steward. In Kitchen's work "ON COURTS" (1663), we find,-" Also, if tapsters sell by cups and dishes, or measures sealed or not sealed, is inquirable."

"Such as the daughter of Agenor had."-Act I., Scene 1. The allusion is to Europa.

"Being perhaps (for aught I see), two-and-thirty-a pip out?"-Act I., Scene 2.

The allusion here is supposed to be to the old game of bone-ace, or one-and-thirty. A pip is a spot upon a card. In Massinger's "FATAL DOWRY," we find, "You think, because you served my lady's mother, you are thirty-two years old, which is a pip out, you know."

"Be she as foul as was Florentius' love."—Act I., Scene 2. Florent is the name of a knight in Gower's "CONFESSIO AMANTIS," who bound himself to marry a deformed hag, provided she taught him the solution of a riddle on which his life depended.

An he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks."

Act I., Scene 2. The term "rope-tricks" seems to be here used in the sense of abuse, or roguery. So in "BULLEIN'S DIALOGUE" (1578):

"It is sportation to hear the clowting-beetles to rowle in their rope-ripe terms."

"She shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat.” Act I., Scene 2.

The absurdity of this comparison is no doubt intentional on the part of the author: it is in keeping with such characters as Grumio, who on such occasions take, right or wrong, whatever proverbial phrase happens to suggest itself.

"And toward the education of your daughters,

I here bestow a simple instrument,

And this small packet of Greek and Latin books."
Act II., Scene 1.

It was customary in Elizabeth's time to instruct young ladies of quality in the learned languages. That queen herself was an instance of the kind; as were Lady Jane Grey and many others, whose histories have come down to us.

"Basons and ewers, to lave her dainty hands."
Act II., Scene 1.

These were articles formerly of great account. They were usually of silver, and probably their fashion was much attended to, because they were regularly exhibited to the guests before and after dinner, it being the custom to wash the hands at both those times.

"In ivory coffers I have stuffed my crowns;

In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,

Costly apparel, tents and canopies."—Act II., Scene 1. The term "counterpoint" is equivalent to counterpane. Counterpoint is a species of music, in which notes of equal duration, but of different harmony, are set in opposition to each other: in like manner, counterpanes were composed of patchwork, so contrived that every pane or partition in them was contrasted with one of a different colour, though of the same dimensions. Counterpoints were in ancient times extremely costly. Stowe states, that in Wat Tyler's rebellion, when the insurgents broke into the wardrobe in the Savoy, they destroyed a coverlet worth a thousand marks.-Tents were hangings, probably from the tenters by which they were suspended.

"Pewter and brass, and all things that did belong To house or housekeeping."-Act II., Scene 1. Pewter was at the time in question an article too costly to be used in common. It appears from the Earl of Northumberland's Household Book (before quoted), that vessels of pewter were hired by the year.

"Avengeance on your crafty, withered hide! Yet I have faced it with a card of ten."

Act II., Scene 1.

This phrase is often used by old writers; it seems to have conveyed a particular allusion to some game of cards in vogue at the period; and to have been applied to those persons who gained their ends by impudence, and bold, confident assertion.

At the end of this act, in the old play, occurs a short dialogue between Sly and his associates. It will be seen that it is quite destitute of point or character:"Slie. When will the fool come again? Sim. Anon, my lord.

Slie. Give's some more drink here. Where's the Tapster? Here, Sim, eat some of these things.

Sim. I do, my lord.

Slie. Here, Sim, I drink to thee."

"An old hat, and 'The humour of forty fancies' pricked in't for a feather."—Act III., Scene 2.

The meaning probably is, that Grumio had stuck forty ballads together, and made something like a feather out of

44 Quaffed off the muscadel, and threw the sops
All in the sexton's face."-Act III., Scene 2.

The custom here alluded to, of introducing a bowl of wine into the church at a wedding, was anciently a constant ceremony. It was practised at the marriage of Queen Mary and Philip of Spain, in Winchester Cathedral, 1554; and more immediately in Shakspere's day, at the nuptials of the Elector Palatine to the daughter of James I., 1612. It appears, also, from a rubric in a Salisbury missal, that the kiss was a part of the proceeding.

"PET. Grumio, my horses.

GRU. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses." Act III., Scene 2. This is, perhaps, merely a slip of Grumio's, arising from fright and flurry. It is said, however, that there is a ludicrous expression, applied to horses which have stayed so long in a place as to have eaten more than they are worth, that "their heads are too big for the stable-door;" and Grumio, in the same satirical spirit, may mean to infer that the oats, being of more account than the horses, have swallowed up their worth. The following is the corresponding passage from the older play. The dialogue is between Ferando (Petruchio) and Sander (Grumio):

"Fer. Tut, Kate, I tell thee we must needs go home. Villain, hast thou saddled my horse?

San. Which horse? your curtal?

Fer. Zounds; you slave, stand you prating here! Saddle the bay gelding for your mistress.

Kate. Not for me, for I will not go.

San. The ostler will not let me have him; you owe tenpence for his meat, and sixpence for stuffing my mistress' saddle.

Fer. Here, villain, go pay him straight.

San. Shall I give them another peck of lavender?

Fer. Out, slave, and bring them presently to the door."

"It was the friar of orders grey,

As he forth walked on his way."-Act IV., Scene 1.

These lines, and those that shortly precede them in the text, "Where is the life that late I led," are no doubt scraps of some ancient ballad. There are many such dispersed through Shakspere's plays. Dr. Percy has cleverly availed himself of some of them in the following piece of "modern Gothic," entitled "THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY."

It was a Friar of orders grey,
Walked forth to tell his beads;
And he met with a lady fair,

Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.

Now, heaven thee save, thou reverend friar; I pray thee tell to me

If ever, at your holy shrine

My true-love thou did see.

And how should I your true-love know
From any other one?

O, by his cockle-hat and staff,
And by his sandal-shoon.

The holy father thus replied:

O lady, he is dead and gone; And at his head a green grass turf, And at his heels a stone.

Weep no more, lady; lady, weep no more, Thy sorrow is in vain;

For violets plucked, the sweetest showers
Will ne'er make grow again.

Yet stay, fair lady, rest awhile,
Beneath yon cloister wall;

See through the hawthorn blows the wind,
And drizzling rain doth fall.

O stay me not, thou holy friar,

O stay me not, I pray;

No drizzling rain that falls on me
Can wash my fault away.

"At last I spied

An ancient angel coming down the hill."

Act IV., Scene 2.

This phrase was equivalent to the "good soul" of the present day, signifying one of an easy, unsuspicious disposition. Cotgrave thus explains the term: "An old angel,— by metaphor, a fellow of th' old, sound, honest, worthie stamp."

"But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat."
Act IV., Scene 3.

It is broadly stated, by an intelligent contemporary, that the second of the lines here quoted "is omitted in every edition of Shakspere of the present century-large or smalldear or cheap-edited or not edited. We have taken some pains," the writer continues, “to trace the origin of this typographical blunder, and find that the line was first left out in Reed's edition, of 1803. This, being the standard edition, has furnished the text of every succeeding one."-In the great majority of instances, we have no reason to doubt our contemporary's accuracy respecting the point in question; but as he so emphatically uses the word every (the italic character is not ours), it is but fair towards others to state that a copy called "The London Stage Edition" (1 vol., Sherwood, 1825), contains the line referred to. This edition is printed with considerable accuracy (by Gye and Balne), and embraces a well-selected body of Prolegomena. The unlucky line,

"Nor never needed that I should entreat,"

will also be found in a handsome edition in 14 vols., edited by Manley Wood, A.M., and published by Kearsley, in 1806.

Amid the vast number of versions that have been issued since Reed's, there are probably others in which the passage would be found entire; but we have not pursued the inquiry in a carping spirit. The instances quoted fell under our notice without seeking: in various other editions of the present century, we have certainly observed the asserted imperfection.

"Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?"

Act IV., Scene 5. One of the best passages in the older play is that which corresponds to the scene above quoted from; it is therefore subjoined :

"Fer. Fair, lovely maiden, young and affable,
More clear of hue and far more beautiful
Than precious sardonyx, or purple rocks

Of amethysts, or glittering hyacinth;

More amiable far than is the plain

Where glittering Cepherus, in silver bowers,
Gazeth upon the giant, Andromede:
Sweet Kate, entertain this lovely woman.

Kate. Fair, lovely lady, bright and crystalline,
Beauteous and stately as the eye-trained bird;
As glorious as the morning washed with dew,
Within whose eyes she takes her dawning beams,
And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks:
Wrap up thy radiations in some cloud,
Lest that thy beauty make this stately town
Inhabitable, like the burning zone,
With sweet reflections of thy lovely face."

“A scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat!”—Act V., Scene 1. The last article is the conical or sugar-loaf hat, once so much in vogue. Stubbs says (1595), "Sometimes they use them sharpe on the crowne, pearking up like the spear or shaft of a steeple, standing a quarter of a yard above the crowns of their heads."

"HOR. Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a cursed shrew. Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so." Act V., Scene 2. From this couplet (which was no doubt intended for a rhyming one), as also from a similar one in the same act, it appears that the word shrew was formerly pronounced shrow.

As Shakspere unfortunately seems to have dropped Sly altogether after the first act, we subjoin the termination of his adventure from the older play :

"Then enter two, bearing of SLIE in his own apparel again, and leave him where they found him, and then go out: then enters the Tapster.

Tap. Now that the darksome night is overpast,
And dawning day appears in crystal sky,
Now must I haste abroad: but soft, who's this?
What, Slie? O wondrous! hath he lain here all night?
I'll wake him: I think he's starved by this,
But that his belly was so stuffed with ale.
What now, Slie, awake, for shame.

Slie. Sim, give's some more wine. What, all players gone? Am not I a lord?

Tap. A lord, with a murrain: come, art thou drunken still?

Slie. Who's this? Tapster! O Lord, sirrah, I have had the bravest dream to-night that ever thou heard'st in all thy life.

I

Tap. Yea, marry; but you had best get you home, For your wife will curse you for dreaming here to-night. Slie. Will she? I know now how to tame a shrew. dreamt upon it all this night till now, and thou hast waked me out of the best dream that ever I had in my life. But I'll to my wife, and tame her too, if she anger me.

Tap. Nay, tarry, Slie, for I'll go home with thee, And hear the rest that thou hast dreamt to-night."

Sly's adventure bears a strong resemblance to that of "The Sleeper Awakened," in "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS;" but its immediate origin is probably to be found in the following story from Goulart's "ADMIRABLE AND MEMORABLE HISTORIES:"

Philip, called the Good, Duke of Burgundy, in the memory of our ancestors, being at Bruxelles with his court, and walking one night after supper through the streets, accompanied with some of his favourites, he found lying upon the stones a certain artisan that was very drunk, and that slept soundly. It pleased the Prince, in this artisan, to make trial of the vanity of our life, whereof he had before discoursed with his familiar friends. He, therefore, caused this sleeper to be taken up, and carried into his palace. He commands him to be laid in one of the richest beds; a rich night-cap to be given him; his foul shirt to be taken off, and to have another put on him of fine holland. When as this drunkard had digested his wine and began to awake, behold there comes about his bed pages and grooms of the Duke's chamber, who draw the curtains, and make many courtesies, and, being bareheaded, ask him if it please him to rise, and what apparel it would please him to put on that day. They bring him rich apparel. This new Monsieur, amazed at such courtesy, and doubting whether he dreamed or waked, suffered himself to be dressed, and led out of the chamber. There came noblemen, which saluted him with all honour, and conduct him to the mass, where, with great ceremony, they give him the book of the Gospel, and Pixe to kiss, as they did usually to the Duke. From the mass they bring him back unto the palace; he washes his hands, and sits down at the table well furnished.

After dinner, the great chamberlain commands cards to be brought, with a great sum of money. This Duke in imagination plays with the chief of the court. Then they carry him to walk in the garden, and to hunt the hare, and to hawk. They bring him back unto the palace, where he sups in state. Candles being lighted, the musicians begin to play; and, the tables taken away, the gentlemen and gentlewomen fell to dancing. Then they played a pleasant comedy; after which followed a banquet, whereas they had presently store of ipocras and precious wine, with all sorts of confitures, to this Prince of the new impression; so as he was drunk, and fell soundly asleep. Thereupon the Duke commanded that he should be disrobed of all his rich attire. He was put into his old rags, and carried into the same place where he had been found the night before; where he spent that night.

Being awake in the morning, he began to remember what had happened before: he knew not whether it were true indeed, or a dream that had troubled his brain. But, in the end, after many discourses, he concludes that all was but a dream that had happened unto him; and so entertained his wife, his children, and his neighbours, without any other apprehension.