The Winter's Tale arrow Created with Sketch. Appendix

Irregular, Doubtful, and Emended Accidentals in F1

For an explanation of the contents of this list, see here. In the notes, the lemma is the reading of this edition’s text. For emendations, the lemma is followed by the siglum of the edition from which the emendation is drawn and then by the rejected F1 reading and the sigla of the 17th-c. editions reading differently from the lemma. If no source is given for the emendation, the reading adopted is to be found in none of the folios. Doubtful and irregular readings are merely listed. ( | ) indicates that the reading is found in a full line; (?) indicates dubiety or an alternative to the reading adopted, although not a correct one in the judgment of the editor. In notes pertaining to variants in punctuation, a swung dash ( ~ ) shows that a word in the lemma is replaced in substantially the same form, and an inferior caret (‸) calls attention to a lack of punctuation.

42 life,] F2;  ~ . F1
100 o’th’ Clock] o’th’Clock F1
107 seek] F1 ( | ); seeke elsewhere
107 Stars] F1 ( | ); starres elsewhere
166 th’Goale] th’ Goale F1 (?)
227 look] F1 ( | ); looke elsewhere except 1332 Look
423 Leo.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1
453 wil] F1 ( | ); will elsewhere
613 stirs] F1 ( | ); stirre(s) elsewhere except 3274 stir’d
628 Leon.] F1 ( | ); Leo. elsewhere
696 with‸her] F2;  ~ .  ~  F1
724 Highnes] F1 ( | ); Highnesse elsewhere
800 haue] F2 (have); hane F1
845 gracious] F2; gtacious F1
854 you.] F3;  ~ , F1, F2
870 Your] F2; your F1
874 presently] F2; presenrly F1
882 good.] F2;  ~ , F1
902 o’th’cause] second apostrophe indistinct in F1
914 Mother.] F2;  ~ .’ F1
959 me.]  ~ : F1-F4
988 honest.] F2;  ~ : F1
1131 th’Court] th’ Court F1 (?)
1160 successefull] F2; snccessefull F1
1204 then, but] F2; then,but F1 (?)
1284 i’th’ open] i’th’open F1 (?)
1304 shal] F1 ( | ); shall elsewhere
1311 Cleo.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1
1313 chast] F1 ( | ); chaste elsewhere
1331 strike] F2; r inverted F1
1332 Look] F1 ( | ); looke elsewhere except 227 look
1374 much,]  ~ . F1-F4
1388 sweet’st,] F2;  ~ . F1 (?)
1471 Thrower] F2; Thower F1
1502 sleep] F1 ( | ); sleepe elsewhere
1508–9 Mai- | ster] F1; master elsewhere except 2145 Mayster
1512 verie] F1 ( | ); very elsewhere
1512 prettie] F1 ( | ); pretty elsewhere
1548, 1559 olde] F1 ( | ); old elsewhere
1560 Golde] F1 ( | ); gold elsewhere
1577 on’t.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1
1592 th’freshest] F2; th’sreshest F1
1606 daughter] daugh- | (ter (turnunder) F1
1621 allay (or] F2;  ~ ,  ~  F1
1634 punnishes] F1 ( | ); punish(’d) elsewhere
1638 son] F1 ( | ); sonne elsewhere
1656 cottage.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1 ( | )
1662 ’Prethe] F1 ( | ); prethee elsewhere
1663 busines] F1 ( | ); businesse(s) elsewhere
1673 bleaching] F2; bleachiug F1
1690 auouch] F2; auoueh F1
1730 detestable] F2; derestable F1
1745 Doest] F1 ( | ); dost elsewhere
1745 mony . . . mony] F1 ( | ); money elsewhere
1749 anie] F1 ( | ); any elsewhere
1815 ground.] F2;  ~ . F1 (?)
1841 purpose,] pur- | (pose, (turnunder) F1
1860 Fy] F1 ( | ); fie elsewhere
1926 fairst Friend,] fairst | (Friend, (turnover) F1
1947 flours] F1 ( | ); flowres elsewhere
1966 Shepherd] F2; Sphepherd F1
2017 customers] F2; cnstomers F1
2027 Beleeue] F2 (Beleeve); Beleeee F1
2061 then] F2; rhen F1
2067 bear] F1 ( | ); beare elsewhere
2072 promis’d] F2; ptomis’d F1
2076–7 ther- | fore] F1; therefore elsewhere
2078 here.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1 ( | )
2096 things] F2; rhings F1
2121 Mop.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1
2125 Let] F2; Le char created, no entity used per Julie 10/7/04 F1 (foot of type prints)
2126, 2132 Mop:] F2 ( ~ .);  ~ ‸ F1
2135 wee’ll] F1 ( | ); wee’l or wee’le elsewhere
2137 folow] F1 ( | ); follow elsewhere
2138 Aut.] F2;  ~ : F1
2139 Cape] F2; Crpe F1
2145 Mayster] F1 ( | ); master elsewhere except 1508 maister
2147 cal] F1 ( | ); call elsewhere
2191 you out] F2; youout F1
2199 Thereof] F2; The reof F1
2253, 2255 Flo.] F2;  ~ ‸ F1 (?)
2265 But] F2; but F1
2406 Cam.] F2;  ~ , F1
2453 reare’our] reare’ our F1 (?)
2612 like] F2; lke F1
2619 eyther] F1 ( | ); either elsewhere
2658 whistling] F2; whistiing F1
2714 means] F1 ( | ); meanes elsewhere
2717 him. If]  ~ . if F1;  ~ , if F2-F4
2949 speake.] F3;  ~ : F1, F2
3109 answer] F1 ( | ); answere elsewhere
3220 excellence,] F2;  ~ . F1 (?)
3274 stir’d] F1 ( | ); stirre(s) elsewhere except 613 stirs
3338 the] F2; rhe F1 (?)
3341 time] F2; ttme F1

Unadopted Conjectures

3381 Bohemia] Illyria (throughout) Berkenhout (1790)
4–10 Eight verse lines ending visit . . . occasion . . . foot; . . . difference . . . Sicilia. . . . of . . . Bohemia . . . him. mtby4
6 shall] will mF2fl21
11 Wherein] where if Gould (1887, p. 69)
16 will] must mtby3
17–18 insufficience] insufficiency mflV.a.80
26 there] then mtby3 (and withdrawn)
27 which] as mF2fl21
30 attornyed] atourned [with splendid retinue] Becket (1815, 1:349)
32 shooke] shake mtby4
33 embrac’d] embrace mtby4
49 Mamillius] To line 192 Parry (1979, p. 57)
51 haue left] did leave Seymour (1805, 1:157)
63 Or] To mtby4
63–4 blow No . . . to] grow To . . . and Cartwright (1866, p. 14); blow In . . . to Staunton (1874, p. 461)
63 blow‸]  ~ , [blow = blossom] Lambrechts (1965, p. 956)
64 No sneaping] Nose-nipping mcol3 (attrib. to Col. Curwin?)
65 This is] These are hud2
74 (’beseech you) so] so I beseech you mflV.a.80
75 none, none] no none mflV.a.80
76 So . . . me] could win me so soone as yours mflV.a.80
82 Farewell (our Brother.)] Brother farewell mF2fl21
82 our] deare mflV.a.80
91 tell] tell’s mtby3
92 Om. mtby4
98 let] diet or list mtby3; sit Keightley (1867, pp. 197–8)
98 behind] beyond mtby3, Heath (1765, pp. 202–3; in error?)
98 Gest] just theo1; les [time] Becket (1815, 1:349–50); longest Coleridge (1813?; 1960, 1:107)
99 (good-deed)] good mtby3
101 Lady] loving Kellner (1925, p. 140)
101 she] else mtby3
103–5 One verse line mcap2
105 Verely?] Om. mF2fl21
107 would seek] should think mflV.a.80
114 your] our Gould (1884, p. 22)
120 Gaoler] harsh gaoler mstau
127 Boy] boys mtby3
133 ill-doing] ill-doingness Bulloch (1878, pp. 115–16)
133 nor] neither Spedding in cam1
133 dream’d] dream’d then mstau; dream’d we even Keightley (1867, p. 198)
136 blood] food Gould (1887, p. 69)
137–8 Imposition clear’d, Hereditarie] inquisition clear’d, Heaven would be Gould (1884, p. 22)
146 Grace] Heaven’s grace Staunton (1874, p. 461)
146 boot] both Heath (1765, p. 203)
151 fault] faulty Lambrechts (1965, p. 957)
162 deed] Om. Anon. (Discovery, 1853, p. 255)
164 Our] Your mlet
166 With] Wi’th’ mtby2
166 we heat an Acre.] the heat, an acre Nichols (1861, p. 20)
166 heat] tread mtby3; beat mtby4, Cartwright (1866, p. 14); hoop mtby4; hent Schmidt (1875, p. 1452); head [advance] Gould (1887, p. 69)
167 was] was then mtay
175 A] Or oxf2
177 ’Tis] That was Lettsom in dyce2
180 Friend] royal friend mtay
185 free] fair mtby2
186 Bountie] bounties mlong
186 Bountie, fertile Bosome] bounty:—fertile become Jackson (1819, pp. 131–2)
190 Looking-Glasse] glass Walker (1860, 3:91, and withdrawn)
190 sigh] sing mtby4
197–200 Come . . . Neat.] Om. mcol2
198 but] not mbrae
200 all] all alike Lettsom in dyce2; or virginalling still mlet
200 Still] Still, still Staunton (1874, p. 461)
204 pash] bush [tail] Becket (1815, 1:350–1); patch Jervis (1868)
208 o’re-dy’d] oft dyed stau
213 Most] My mtby4
213 Dam, may’t be] Dam’, may’t be? [apostrophe indicating suspension?] mtyr
214–22 Affection . . . Browes.)] Om. colne
214 Intention] Intension [i.e., intensity] Tannenbaum (1928, p. 360)
215 do’st . . . things] makest impossible things or dost make things impossible mtby3; dost make impossible things mtby4
216 with] by mtby4
218 credent] evident mtby2
220 (And . . . it,] Om. capn
221 (And that] Find it Lettsom in dyce2
224–6 Her. He . . . vnsetled. Pol. How? my Lord? Leo. What . . . Brother?] He . . . unsettled. Her. How? My lord! Pol. What . . . brother? Nicholson in cam2
225–6 How . . . cheere?] Continued to Hermione Dey (1900)
225 How?] How i’st mlong
226–9 Four verse lines ending you, . . . brow . . . lord? . . . earnest. Walker (1860, 3:91)
227 Brow] thought mtby4
233 requoyle] recall Grey (1754, 1:246)
240 Egges for Money] ayes for money Becket (1815, 1:351–2); aches from any Bulloch (1878, p. 116)
253–5 We . . . welcome] Her. We . . . lord, | And . . . steps. Leo. How thou | Lovest . . . welcome Dey (1907)
256 deare] dears’t mtby4
267 allowing] all-owing mtby3
270 whose issue] who sees’t mstau
277–80 And . . . will.] Om. mcol2
281 tenth] tenth part mF1fl10
282 Physick] Why, Physick mlet
282 there’s] there is Young (1928, p. 214)
285–9 From . . . not.] Om. mcol2
290 you] you you col1
291–2 One verse line Walker (1860, 3:91)
292 What? Camillo] What Camillo, art Staunton (1874, p. 461)
294 thou’rt . . . man:] to Camillo mtby2 (and withdrawn)
296 his] this mtby3
303 a so-forth] and so forth mal; a sea-froth Jackson (1819, pp. 132–3)
308 so] as mtby4
310 is] in Grey (1754, 1:246)
312 Seueralls] Severall mcol2
313 Messes] nesses [ignorants] Becket (1815, 1:352)
316–19 Verse lines ending ha? . . . why? mcap2
317–19 One verse line Walker (1860, 2:145)
317 Ha?] Ha? Ha? Staunton (1874, p. 461)
318 longer] longer, sir Staunton (1874, p. 461)
319 why?] why, but why? Walker (1860, 2:145); why? why stays? Staunton (1874, p. 461)
327 from thee departed] have departed from thee Walker (1860, 3:92)
330 seemes] seem’d mtby4
334 restrayning] restraining it mtby3, Staunton (1874, p. 863)
335–7 Marked out m1778bl
338 home] false Gould (1887, p. 69)
343–5 But . . . forth] Om. mcol2
349 euer fearefull] over-fearful mtby4
352 non-performance] now-performance Heath (1765, p. 205)
363–4 Cogitation Resides] vegetation Rides mtby3
364 thinke)] think so or think‸ mtby2
369 puts to] puts Toe [tow] mtby2; buts [twists] tow Jackson (1818)
373 My] A mlet
376 that] black mstau
378 meating] meting [measuring] john1 (attrib. to Thirlby)
379 Cariere] Course mlet
381 Honestie] modesty [?] mF2fl48 (trimmed; the reading incorrectly attrib. to Pope)
383 Noone] noon-day or high noon Anon. in cam1
388 haue] are Lettsom in dyce2
400 my Wiues] her mflV.a.80
400–1 Liuer . . . life] life . . . liver Daniel (1870, p. 44)
401 as] as is mflV.a.80
401 would] could mtby4
419 Maliciously] Suspiciously Anon. (Discovery, 1853, p. 255)
421 (So . . . ‸being Honorable.)] ‸ ~  . . . ( ~   ~ ‸) mal
421–3 Verse lines ending have . . . rot. Spedding in cam1
421–2 ] One verse line Walker (1860, 3:92)
421 being Honorable.) I] being honourable, Sir, | I Staunton (1874, p. 863); benign, and honourably To Bulloch (1878, pp. 116–18)
422–3 I haue . . . Leo. Make] Leo. Have I . . . Make mlong
422–3 I . . . rot] Leo. I’ve lov’d thee. Mark this question, and go do’t Heath (1765, pp. 205–6)
423–4 Verse lines ending think . . . unsettled, Walker (1854, p. 7)
423 rot] do’t Jackson (1819, pp. 135–6)
428 Is] Is full of mtay
428 Nettles,] nettles, vipers Walker (1860, 2:16); nettles, pismires Anon. in cam1; stinging nettles Staunton (1874, p. 863)
428 of] of bees of mtby4
432 man] any man mlong
432 blench] flinch mtook
437 thereby] thereto mtby4
437 for sealing] for seeling m1768fl
442–3 One verse line Walker (1854, p. 66)
442 to] t’ Walker (1854, p. 66)
449 all] well mtby2
466 Starre] stars mtby4
480–1 breeding, That . . . Manners.] breeding. What . . . manners. mtby2
482 not] not, do not mF2fl27
483 doe not?] Om. mlong
483–4 doe you . . . not? . . . me,] you do . . . not . . . me? mtby2
483–4 and dare not? . . . me,] and dare not be intelligent?—To me mtby3
488 for] sir mtby2
489 A partie] answered mtby3
493 name the] name’t mlet
502 gentle] gentile or gentil [Fr.] Becket (1815, 1:353)
520 vtter it] utter ’t Walker (1854, p. 102)
523 am appointed him] am appointed for or sir mtby2; appointed am mF2fl48 (and withdrawn), Anon. in hal
529 vice] advise Steevens (v1778); vice [advice or advise] mper
531 my] let my mflV.a.80
533 Best] blest Lambrechts (1965, p. 957)
534 freshest] Om. mflV.a.80
536 shun’d] fear’d mflV.a.80
539 his thought] this thrice mtby2; your thought mtby4; this oath Lettsom in dyce2
539 ouer] over! Jackson (1819, pp. 136–7); erres Gould (1887, p. 69); error Fisher (1985, p. 21)
541 Influences] influence wh1 (5:388 and 1:xlvii)
544 his] this mtby4
546–9 Four verse lines ending body. . . . sure, . . . question . . . born. Walker (1860, 3:95)
561–2 condemnd . . . his] condemned; . . . is As You Like It (1789, p. 711)
561 mouth:] mouth, & Walker (1860, 3:95)
562 Thereon] Thereto mtby4
562 his] the or swift mtby4
565 places] paces mwarb, Malone (1783); paces [It. comforts] or peaces Becket (1815, 1:354)
567 hence departure] hence-departure mtby4
568–71 Four verse lines ending for . . . it . . . it . . . conceive mtby2
568 Iealousie] his jealousy Walker (1860, 2:257, and withdrawn); jealousy, Camillo Cartwright (1866, p. 14)
570, 571 Must it] It must Seymour (1805, 1:160)
573 him: why his] him honour, why’s mstau; love him, why’s Staunton (1874, p. 864)
574–6 me . . . but] my Good expedition. Be my friend, . . . theme; but say or me; With expedition go my friend, &c. mtay
575–7 Lined 576–7, 575 (with consort for comfort) Bulloch (1878, pp. 118–19)
575–6 friend, and comfort‸ . . . Queene,]  ~ ‸  ~   ~ , . . .  ~ ‸ Becket (1815, 1:354–5)
575–6 comfort . . . Theame] consort . . . throne Jackson (1819, pp. 137–8); God comfort . . . theme sing2; conserve . . . throne White (1854); comfort . . . shame Tannenbaum (1928, p. 362)
575–6 comfort . . . nothing] God comfort The gracious queen; and pardon his crime, but offspring Lloyd (1892); comfort! The gracious queen, part of his theme, wot nothing Adams (1892)
576 Queene, part] Queen’s; [a line lost] part john1
576 Queene, . . . nothing] queen (part of his theme ’bout nothing) Morehead (1814, p. 28); queen’s part of this theme, but noting Spence (1890)
576 but nothing] not noting sing1; by his noting Orger (1890, p. 65)
579 my . . . hence:] me alive off. Hence, mtby4
582 Come] Pol. Come mlong
593–4 Verse lines ending still. . . . lord? Walker (1860, 3:97)
594 Lord] good Lord mtby4
595–600 Five verse lines ending yet . . . best; . . . hair there, . . . moon . . . this? mtby4
598 in] like or as mtby4
605 not her] never mtby4
608 seruices] service mlet
615–20 Three verse lines ending be? . . . winter: . . . sir: mcap2
626 Crickets] giglets mtby4
628 his Traine?] Om. mtby4
630 Behind] Beyond mtby4
631–2 them Euen to] them Even unto or Them even to mtby2
633 blest] blessed then steevens (v1793)
637 drinke; depart] drinke deep mlong; drink deep o’t stau; drain it deep Jervis (1860; withdrawn 1861); drink, repeat it or drink a draught Cartwright (1866, p. 14); drink deep on’t mlet
642 Hefts] hests [heats, violent actions] Becket (1815, 1:355)
645 is] was mtby3, Lettsom in dyce2, Keightley (1867, p. 200)
648 pinch’d Thing] pinchin [one who is to be played upon] or pinc’d thing [one who is mocked] Becket (1815, 1:355); perch’d thing Jackson (1819, pp. 138–9)
649 at will] withall mtby2
650–1 easily . . . his] easy ope? By’s a Kellner (1925, p. 171)
653 command] commandement [three syllables] Walker (1854, p. 127)
654 know’t] know it but mtby4
654 too well] too well, too well Anon. in cam1
658 this?]  ~ ‸ mtby3
661 big-with] big Maxwell in ard2
663 Her. But] Ant. Kellner (1925, p. 43)
663 Il’d] I’ll or I mtby4
663 had] has Keightley (1867, p. 200)
664 would] will or do mtby4
665 Nay-ward] wayward mtby4
679 grieue . . . be] grieve’t should be so mtby4
687 Ile] Ild cam3
689 a like] alike mtby3
690 out] off mtby4
694–7 Four verse lines ending her . . . know . . . principal . . . those mtay
694–5 Verse lines ending one . . . herself, Walker (1860, 3:98)
694 Federarie] federate Keightley (1867, p. 200)
694 and] ay, and Walker (1860, 3:98)
694 one] one too mtby4
695–7 Three verse lines ending with . . . principal; . . . those mtby2
695 What] She is what mtay
695 her selfe] herself with none Anon. in cam1
696 that] Om. mtby2
710 is . . . guiltie] afar off [barely insinuates], is guilty Becket (1815, 1:355); has a share of guilt mstau; is so far guilty dyce2; is a fere [accomplice] of guilt Kellner (1925, p. 31)
711 But] By Daniel in cam2
714 Good] Om. Seymour (1805, 1:161)
739 (Sir)] so, mtby4
741 I meane] ye clean mstau
744 my Stables] my stabler or my stablers cam1 (withdrawn cam2); me shackles Bulloch (1878, pp. 119–20); constables Kinnear (1883, p. 179; me constables 1885, pp. 259–60); my shackles Gould (1887, p. 69)
746 farther‸] further, mtby2
755 I . . . him:] And I would damn him; or And I would—damn him;— Mitford (1844, p. 127); I’d geld and damn him Kinnear (1883, pp. 179–80); I would—Lord, damn him! Schmidt (ed. 1870, p. 281)
755 Land-damne him: be] hang him. But be Cartwright (1866, p. 14)
755 Land-damne] half-damn Heath (1765, pp. 208–9); land-dam [bury] Malone (1783); laudanum Farmer in v1793 (Knight, ed. 1841: A joke); langue dam [stop his tongue] Becket (1815, 1:355–6); live-damn Walker (1860, 3:99); Lent-damn Nicholson in cam1 (3:430; withdrawn 1867, p. 435); hand-damn Browne in cam2; land-ram Nicholson (1867, p. 435, and withdrawn); lambaste Keightley (1867, pp. 200–1); land-drum Bulloch (1878, pp. 120–1); lam— damn [lamback broken off] Platt (1906); loud-damn Burton (1970, p. 228)
757 and . . . some] nine, the third is yet but or . . . yet some mtby2
759 gell’d] kill mtby4
760 co-heyres] my heirs mtby4
761 glib] geld mtby3; lib Grey (1754, 1:250); unsib Heath (1765, p. 209); glib them ard2
766 withall] with all mF2fl48
766 touches the forehead of Antigonus with his fore and middle fingers in imitation of a SNAIL’s HORNS Henley in v1793
767–8 that . . . so] of that you feel. Ant. If so Heath (1765, pp. 209–10)
767 feele] work mstau
770 the . . . sweeten] to sweeten the face mflV.a.80
773 Lord] Antigonus Theobald (1729) in Nichols (1817, 2:360)
773 lacke] lack it or lack’t mtby3
780 Cals] Lacks mtby2
783 a truth, like vs:] as truth; like us, mtby2
785–7 Verse lines ending is . . . liege, mstau
785 ord’ring on’t] ordering of it mtby2
786 all] Om. mstau
787 wish] do wish mlet (withdrawn)
800 wilde] wide mtby2
805 well?] well? Say. mstau
810 credulitie] incredulity mtby3
816 vs] our mtby4
820 At the Gate of a Prison. Furness (v1898)
827–45 Thirteen verse lines ending then, . . . contrary . . . ado, . . . from . . . lawful, . . . them? . . . apart . . . forth. . . . madam, . . . conference. . . . make . . . colouring. . . . lady? Bayfield (1920, pp. 348–9)
829–45 Fourteen [?] verse lines ending Queen. . . . contrary . . . ado . . . from then as F until 842–5, which end a-do, . . . colouring. . . . lady? mtby2
853 poore] pure mtby3
856 Lunes] loons or lowns mtby2
871 free] fair mtby4
876 hammered] murmured mwray
877 not tempt] n’t attempt mtby4
903 She] She, she mlet
903 th’Adultresse] th’ adultresse lives Gould (1887, p. 69)
904 Arme] aim mtby3, Field (1847, p. 138)
905 braine] aime Gould (1887, p. 69)
905 plot-proofe] shot proof mtby3, wh1 (if aim in 904)
908–15 Five verse lines ending lord. . . . night; . . . see . . . dishonour . . . deeply; mtby3
910–12 Verse lines ending to-night; . . . discharg’d. mtby2
912–15 Three verse lines ending see . . . dishonour . . . deeply, Walker (1854, p. 23)
915 deeply] heavily or deadlily mtby4; deeply in mstau
917 Spirit] sport mtby4
922 Alliance] allies mtby4
928 Enter Paulina] Enter Paulina, Antigonus and others following after 945 [929–44 within] Tannenbaum (1928, p. 366)
930 Lords] lord mtby3
930 second] seconds Young & Moseley (ed. 1965)
935 hath] has mtby4
945 Who] Ho mtby3; Whose ard2
953 on] of mtby4
964–5 me . . . My] one . . . Her mstau
967 comforting] combating mtby4
973 her] it mtby3, Heath (1765, p. 210)
973 her good so] it good too mlet, Daniel (1870, p. 45)
982 mankinde] vampire mwray
990–2 Bastard, . . . thou‸ art woman-tyr’d: . . . heere.]  ~ — . . .  ~ ,  ~   ~ ? . . .  ~ ? mtyr
991 tyr’d] rid mtby4, mwray
995 hands] hand Walker (1860, 1:252–3)
996 forced] forged mtby3; forg’d mtby4; falsed col3
996 basenesse] base name mtby3
1004 But . . . heere] That’s here but one mtby2
1007 Swords] sword mtby4
1013 beat] bait mper
1017 them] it capn (v.r.)
1021 Matter] mappe [type] mstau
1022 And] A Tannenbaum (1928, p. 363)
1024 Chin, and] Om. Ritson (1792)
1024 Smiles] Smile Tannenbaum (1928, p. 359 n.)
1029 No] Put no mtby2
1030 Her] Om. As you like it (1789, p. 711)
1034–6 Spoken aside Anon. in cam1
1054 Ioue] God Anon. in cam1
1054 her] him Heath (1765, p. 210)
1056 o’re] o’ Anon. in Furness (v1898)
1074 my] First Lord. My Anon. in cam1
1079 of . . . on] us: on Anon. in cam2
1083 We] Lords. We Anon. in cam1
1090 Mid-wife] mad wife mtby2
1092 this] his [Antigonus’s] Theobald (1729) in Nichols (1817, 2:360); your mcol2
1093 this] the [?] mtby3
1104 lewd-tongu’d] loud-tongued mtby2
1123 this] his Roderick (1758, p. 213)
1127 Posts] post mtby4
1129 An houre since:] Om. mtby3
1130 are‸]  ~ , Furness (v1898)
1135–6 fore-tells The] for’t tells That mtby3; it foretells The Keightley (1867, p. 201)
1156 eare] near mtby4
1168 end the] end her mtby4
1177 Euen] Ever Anon. in cam1
1182 the . . . the] her . . . her mtby2
1182 Purgation:]  ~ — Furness (v1898)
1190 with] with him and or with him and with mtby3
1191 pretence] practise Walker (1860, 2:245)
1215 prate] plead Keightley in cam1
1217 Griefe] speech or breath Daniel (1870, p. 45); gifts Kellner (1925, p. 58)
1223 encounter] a counter mtby4
1223–4 vncurrant . . . strayn’d] uncurrent have I Been staind john1; uncredent, have I Been stain’d Becket (1815, 1:357–8); occurrent I Have strain’d wh1
1224 t’appeare] to appare [i.e., appair, make worse or weaken] mstau
1224 thus;]  ~ — Furness (v1898)
1230 bolder] bold mtby4
1230 wanted] vented Bailey (1866, p. 369)
1236 Mistresse of] Mistresse of that mlong; misreport or misprision Anon. in cam1; mistress of [a line om.] Anon. in cam1; my distress Daniel (1870, p. 45); ’m [or I’m] mistress Anon. in Perring (1885); my stress of fortune Anon. in cam2; my share is Kellner (1925, p. 137)
1237 Which] That Seymour (1805, 1:165)
1243 So] Such mtby2
1247 Euen] Ever mtby2
1254–6 Verse lines ending what you . . . Sir, Bayfield (1920, p. 349)
1263 your] the (written ye) mlet
1263 Fact] Sect mlong, Farmer in v1773 (10:Pp5); Pack john1; pact Anon. in cam1
1274 giue] hold mwray
1283 Lastly] Hastily Bucknill (1860, p. 130)
1285 limit] limb john1
1291 proofes] proof mtby4
1293 Your] Mine mF2fl27
1298 his] the mtby4
1300 here‸]  ~ , mtby4, Tannenbaum (1928, p. 365)
1302 flatnesse] blackness mwray
1319 truth] true mtby4, Jervis (1860, p. 13)
1320 Lord] good Lord mlet
1350 being done] doing mtby4
1352 quit] quits mlush
1353 knew] knew to be Anon. in cam1; know mlet
1353 great)] great and growing mtby3
1353 hazard] fearful hazard Malone in v1785; doubtful hazard mal; hazarding Anon. in cam1
1356 Pietie] purity mtby3
1363 Racks? Fires? What] what racks, what fires, what or what racks, what fires mtby3
1363 flaying?] flaying, tearing Walker (1860, 2:13)
1366 To] The mtby4
1371 of] to mcol2
1372 Polixenes, ’twas] Polixenes was mcol2
1373 of] for mtby2; om. mtby4
1374 damnable] damnably mlong
1382 the] thy oxf2
1385 no] now mtby3
1393 her eye] or eye mtby3
1395 would] Om. mtby2
1399 naked] crooked mtby2
1401 In] And mtby3
1413 What’s . . . what’s] She’s . . . so mtby4
1413 and] as mtby2
1414–15 receiue . . . petition] revive affliction By repetition Lettsom in dyce1 (1:cciv); receive affliction At my monition Cartwright (1866, p. 14); receive affliction At my mad passion or revive [withdrawn] affliction At my perdition mstau
1415 At] By Lettsom in dyce1 (errata)
1415 petition] relation Singer (1853, p. 75)
1422–24 (Who . . . well] Verse lines ending and . . . well, Walker (1860, 3:102)
1422 take] take but mlet
1422 you] you and mlet [withdrawn]
1434–5 I . . . sorrowes.] I . . . Come my Lds, | And . . . sorrows. mtby2
1435 these] these untimely mlet
1444 heauens] Gods mtby3
1447 Ile] ’twill mtby4
1459 thing] things mtby4
1462 some] sometimes mlong
1462 another] on other Anon. in cam1
1463–4 vessell . . . fill’d] vestal . . . veil’d Browne in cam2
1464 fill’d] still Cartwright (1866, p. 14)
1464 becomming] o’er-brimming Daniel (1870, p. 45); become it Kinnear (1883, p. 183); beteeming ard1
1467 gasping] gaping or gaping as mtby3
1468 the] their mtby4, Tannenbaum (1928, p. 365)
1472 babe] baby mtby2
1474 weepe] land Cartwright (1866, p. 14); bear’t Gould (1884, p. 22); wrap Deighton (1898); meve [move] Kellner (1925, pp. 92, 119)
1481 so] sooth warb
1490 pretty] pity Gould (1884, p. 22)
1499 Chace] waye or trace mtby4
1501 ten] 19 mtby4, mF2fl27, Gildemeister (1870, pp. 114–15)
1502 youth] our youth mtby4
1505–6 boylde-braines] broild brains mwarb
1506 of] between mtby3
1506 and two] to two mtby3
1512 Childe] girl child mstau
1513 bookish] book-wise mtby4
1514 the] this mtby2
1515 staire-worke] stairs-work [stair-foot and stair-head withdrawn] mtby2
1523 talke . . . art] talk on, when I am or be talk’d on, when thou art mmal1 (p. 34)
1525–8 Four verse lines ending land; . . . sea, . . . firmament . . . point. mtby2
1531 takes] tears Cartwright (1866, p. 15)
1533 not] some not mtby2; sometimes not mtby4
1534 Moone] sun mtby3
1535 you’ld] you should mtby3
1541, 1547 Gentleman] old gentleman mstau
1547 Gentleman] old gentleman mal
1548 the] tho’ [though] Jackson (1819, pp. 141–2)
1550 would] would not Theobald (1729) in Nichols (1817, 2:362)
1556 take . . . take] takt . . . takt Tannenbaum (1928; take’t 1933)
1580 try] tire mtby3
1583 it not a] it not as or it not as a or not as a mtby4
1585 vntride] untold mtby3, Gould (1887, p. 69)
1588 ore-whelme] root up mlet
1595 my Scene] the scenes mtby4
1596–8 betweene: Leontes leauing‸ ‸Th’effects . . . iealousies, . . . himselfe.]  ~ ‸  ~   ~ , ( ~  . . .  ~ ‸ . . .  ~ ) mtyr
1597 iealousies,] jealousie mtby4
1598–9 me . . . I] we . . . we mtby3; we . . . you john1
1599 I] we mtby2
1601 I mentioned] we mentioned or I mention’d ere mtby2; I mention’d here or we mentioned ere mtby3; Mentioned Lettsom in dyce2
1604 wond’ring] worth mstau
1605 prophesie] t’prophesie mtby4
1608 of Time] o’th’ time mtby4
1610 that] then or this mtby4; then Keightley (1867, p. 201)
1617 Countrey:] country and mtby4
1620 feeling] killing mtby4
1623 rest] list mtby4
1632 my] thy mlong
1632 the] thy mtby3
1636 losse] losses mlet
1638 Kings] Fathers mF2fl27
1643 are] is mtby2
1644 missingly] wissenly [attentively] Becket (1815, 1:360); wittingly Tannenbaum (1928, p. 365)
1645 frequent] fervent mtby4
1647 considered] observed mtby4
1648 eyes] spies mtby4
1657 but] that mlet
1665 willingly] will willingly mtby4
1668 Autolicus] Autolycus very ragged wh1 (attrib. to F1)
1669 to peere] t’ appear mtby4, Tannenbaum (1928, p. 365); to ’pear Tannenbaum (1928, p. 365)
1670 Doxy] daisies m1733fl4
1672 raigns . . . winters] runs . . . winter or vein . . . winter’s mtby3; runs . . . winters Mason (1785)
1672 in] o’er m1733fl4
1673 sheete] shift mtby2, mF4tcc
1675 pugging] tugging mF4tcc
1678 heigh] heigh ho Walker (1860, 3:104); hey! the finch Kinnear (1883, p. 185)
1678 the Iay] heigh, the Jay Furness (v1898)
1679 Are] Her or Their mtby2
1679 songs] songsters mtby4
1680 in] on mtby4
1682 seruice] suit and service mtby2
1691 sheetes] ballads Walker (1860, 3:104)
1695 this] my mcol2
1695 silly] shy mF2fl27
1697 Beating and hanging] hanging and beating col3
1698 thought] thoughts mtby4
1701 Leauen-weather toddes] —living wether tods— [blanks indicating numbers not supplied] Malone (1783; withdrawn mal 10:604)
1701 toddes] todde mtyr
1711 three-man] They’re men, or They’re main or thrum-men [weavers] Theobald (1729) in Nichols (1817, 2:208–9)
1711 but] but that mtby4
1715 none] no or no, no mtby3
1719 me] the— [beginning to invoke the Trinity] Theobald (1729) in Nichols (1817, 2:363); om. john1
1725 are] were mtby2
1740 softly,] softly, softly! mtby3
1761 but] bit mstau; jot or whit or bit Perring (1885)
1761 abide] away mtby3
1762 this] the mtby4
1764 (a Bayliffe)] to a bailiff cam1
1764 compast] compos’d mlong
1767 knauish] other knavish mF2fl27
1767 onely in] in only mtby4
1769 for . . . Prig] on . . . a prig mtby4
1789 vnrold] unrogued Lettsom (1853)
1792 hent] hand mtby4; bend Scott (1815, ch. 22)
1792–4 Stile-a . . . Mile-a] stile, o . . . mile, o Playford (1651); stil-e . . . mil-e Lewis in cam1
1799 a] new mtheo1
1805–13 your . . . I] 1808–10 But . . . blush, then Nay, swoon, I think, to see you so attired. then 1805–7 your . . . wearing; then and the poor lowly maid, Most goddess-like, prank’d up. Flor. A glass to shew thyself. I Becket (1815, 1:362–3)
1810–11 I . . . thinke,] (sworne I think) To see you so attired, I should blush Steevens (v1773)
1811–12 sworne . . . glasse] sorely shrink . . . i’ th’ glass Bailey (1862, 1:211); swoon . . . myself. Flo. Ah! lass Daniel (1870, p. 46)
1811 sworne] scorn Mitford (1844, p. 127); frown or more Bailey (1862, 1:210); ’tis worn mtay
1812 glasse] face Hudson in cam2
1815 ground] grounds mtby4
1822 Vildely] So vildly mtby2
1829 the] sea Anon. in cam1
1829 greene] great mtby4
1833 neuer] neither mtby2
1836–8 Verse lines ending your . . . ’tis Malone in v1785 ; withdrawn mal
1840 must be] must-be mstau
1840 be necessities,] be, necessity mtby3; be necessarily or of necessity mtby4
1841 then will] will then or then you’ll mtby4
1842 I] I forfeit mwarb
1843 Thou deer’st] My dearest or Thou dreamest or Hearest thou mtby2
1851 behold] be bold Gould (1884, p. 22)
1873 Come] Pol. Come mtheo1; Pol. or Cam. Come ard2
1876 welcome] welcome hither or welcome to us Keightley (1867, p. 203)
1885 well] Will stau
1885 ages] age mtby4
1887 growing] now growing mflV.a.80
1890 our] your mbrae
1893 get] set mtby2
1901 ouer] ever or e’er Anon. in cam1
1904 wildest] wilder Anon. in cam1
1906 Nobler] noble mtby4
1908 Nature] nature’s mtby2
1910 you] yon ard2
1914 I would] you would mtby4
1917 Hot] gote [goat] cam3
1917 Mints] mint mtby2, Walker (1860, 1:246, and withdrawn)
1925 that] the mtby4
1930 growing] blowing mwarb
1932–4 Three verse lines ending come . . . winds . . . dim, mtby2
1932 From] From dusky mtby4; illegible n. in mtby3 on possible insert before daffadils
1932 Daffadils] brighter or brightest or glorious daffadils Coleridge (1813?; 1960, 1:108)
1935–6 the . . . Or] Om. mflV.a.80
1946 if: not‸]  ~ ‸  ~ : Mendilow (1967, p. 264)
1956 them] that mtby4
1958 still, still] still-still mstau
1958 so:] so, my love or so, my dear’st mstau; so again: mlet
1959 owne] owe mtby4
1959 doing] A word and line or two om. Walker (1860, 1:74); doing [present Exalts your doings past; each past, remember’d] mlet
1961 are] were mstau
1965 which peepes] the which or pee-pes Young (1928, p. 215)
1965 peepes fairely through’t] through it fairly peeps stau
1970 skill] call Daniel (1870, p. 46)
1974–5 Perd. . . . Pol.] Pol. (aside) john1
1974 Ile sweare] Elsewhere Jackson (1819, p. 143)
1974 ’em] me Mason (1785)
1976–7 or . . . But] but . . . Or Daniel (1870, pp. 46–7)
1976 seemes] deems Anon. in cam1
1983–7 Four verse lines ending garlick . . . time. . . . word, a word, . . . up. mtby2
1986–7 Verse lines ending word, a word; . . . up. Walker (1860, 3:105)
1990–1 Verse lines ending swain . . . daughter? Walker (1854, p. 206)
1991 dances] danced mtby3
1992 They call] He calls mtby2
1992 and] ’a Malone (1783)
1994 and] but mtby3
2010 grew] grew hungry mstau
2021 stretch] stretch’d mtby2
2022 gap] jest ard2
2024 slights] flings mtby4
2026 Verse Walker (1854, p. 86)
2026 Pol.] Mop. or Dor. mtby3
2027 Beleeue] Beshrew mtby4
2028 vnbraided] braided john1; embraided Harbottle (1853, p. 96)
2032 Caddysses] cadizes [Cadiz goods] Becket (1815, 1:365)
2033 em ouer] over them mtby4
2035 sleeue-hand] Silesia or sleasie holland Peck (1740, p. 241)
2042 thinke] hear mstau
2048 Amber] of amber mtby3
2054 come:] come: lads or come: come mtby3
2057 it] I mtby4
2064 will] I will mtby4
2071 clamor] clamme [stop, coagulate] Douce (1807, 1:359–60); clam [cover a bell’s clapper with felt] Croft (1810, p. 11; from mal); chamber Jackson (1819, p. 144); chommer [cease, hold] Cornish (1852); clam, clem, or clammer [press, squeeze] Keightley (1853, pp. 44, 615, and 1857, p. 86); chaumbre [restrain] Arrowsmith (1853, p. 567); clemmer [clem] Keightley (1867, p. 205); shame o’ Perring (1885, p. 141); slaken mwray; charm a ard2
2082–3 a life] as I love life or as I love my life mtby3
2085 twenty] twin mtby2
2086 burthen] birth Anon. in cam1
2098 fourescore] first mtby4
2101 cold] cod mF2fl27
2104 it] that mtby4
2113–4 thou shalt heare] they shall hear it mtby4
2142–4 news’t, and fins’t, fins’t . . . doth vtter] newest, and finest . . . utters mF2fl21
2147 Saltiers] Satiers mcol2
2151 bowling] howling mstau
2156 You] We mtby4
2157 Heardsmen] hairy men mtby3; hair-men mtby4
2163 they . . . doore Sir] sir, they . . . door Keightley (1867, p. 205)
2170 handed] hended [dallied with] mwarb; bandied mstau
2172 Treasury] treasure mtby3
2176 straited] straiten’d mtby4
2177 a reply] reply mstau
2186 it] milk mtby4
2187 Ethyopians] Ethiop Lettsom in Walker (1860, 3:108)
2188 ore.]  ~ — Furness (v1898)
2193 professe] protest mtby3
2197 and men] all men mtby4
2200 had] with mtby4
2203 and] or mtby2
2212 puritie] parity sing2
2220 come-on] come, on mtby3
2221 Witnesses] Witness mlet
2224 Swaine] stay mtby4
2225–7 Verse lines ending father? . . . this? mtby2, mcap2
2234 altring] aking Gould (1884, p. 22)
2235–7 Dispute . . . againe, . . . he did] Manage . . . in pain . . . he’s bid Gould (1884, p. 22)
2235 Dispute] compute john1; dispense Anon. in cam1; discern mlet
2240 of] at mtby3
2243 my] the mtby3, dyce2; that the or good my mtby3; ’tis my mlet; any Craik in oxf2
2250 I] I’le mF2fl27
2259 Marke] Make mtby4
2265 shorten] short Walker (1860, 3:109–13)
2272 no more] Om. mlet
2275 Deucalion] Noah mtby4
2278 dead] dread mtby2, cln2
2278 you] thou Anon. in cam1
2283 hope] clip mtheo1 (and withdrawn); cope mtheo1
2286 vndone:]  ~ , stau
2290–1 Cottage, . . . on] Cottages, | But . . . on all mlet
2291 on] on both mtby3, Malone (1780; withdrawn mal 10:606)
2302 dy’de] did mtby3
2310 vpon me] Om. Steevens (v1793)
2314 vnwillingly] willingly m1768fl
2328 faile] fall Anon. in cam1
2330 together] Om. mflV.a.80
2337 sences] fancy mtby4
2340 but] but as mtby3, mtay
2343 for] not for mflV.a.80
2343 or] Om. mlong
2344 wombes] enwombes mflV.a.80
2345 my] mine mflV.a.80
2354 her] yr [your] Proudfoot in oxf2
2358 Concerne] concerns mtby4
2362 Hearke] Deare Gould (1887, p. 69)
2364 irremoueable] irremoveably mtby2; immoveable Anon. in cam1
2372 curious] anxious Gould (1884, p. 58)
2380 thought on] they ought or well as thought on mtby2; they ought. On mtby4
2383 through] thorough mtby2
2389 whom] who or which mtby3
2392 And] I’ll mlong
2392 absence,] absence) I’ll Daniel in cam2
2393 striue] thus strive mtby2
2394 liking] like it mtby4
2402 th’vnthought-on] th’unthinking or the innocent mtby4
2402 guiltie] guide mtby4
2404–5 flyes Of] flies To or flies For or feathers for mtby4; fly with m1768fl
2414–6 asks . . . kisses . . . diuides] ask . . . kisse . . . divide mlong
2414 thee there] there the Ritson in v1793
2416 Princesse; ore and ore‸]  ~ ‸  ~   ~   ~ , mtby4
2424 comforts. Sir,]  ~ ,  ~ . mtby4
2428 sitting] sifting mtby2, Jackson (1819, pp. 144–5)
2436 vndream’d] undeemed [untried] mwarb
2443 heart] heat mtby4
2453 is i’th’ reare’our] is i’th’ rear i’ her mtby3; is, I fear, of Bulloch (1878, pp. 121–2)
2455 lacks] lack’d mtby4
2457 this] this my lack of speech mstau
2468 if] Om. Lettsom in dyce2
2472 Trust] Truth mtby3
2477 fasting] failing [breaking] mtby4
2480 Picture] pictures [cards] mtby3; pasture Anon. in cam1; posture Furness (v1898)
2485–6 that‸ . . . Eares:]  ~ , . . .  ~ , mtby4
2487 a Cod-peece] the codpiece mtby4
2489 hearing, no feeling,] feeling, no hearing, or hearing, no feeling, nothing mtby2
2489 my Sirs] mysers [usurer’s] Gould (1887, p. 69)
2494 the Chaffe] their chaff mtby4
2498–9 Flo. . . . you’le . . . Cam.] Om. . . . I’ll . . . om. mtby3
2519 fled] shed wh1
2524 Vnbuckle, vnbuckle] Unbutton, unbutton mtby4; Come, unbuckle, unbuckle capn
2531 ouer] overt Jervis (1860, p. 13; om. from 1861); oversharp Lambrechts (1965, p. 957)
2547 whose] his Anon. in cam1
2560 extempore] with impunity or hoc tempore or in tempore mtby4
2562–3 honestie . . . would not] dishonesty . . . would mtby3
2563 would not] would—not mstau
2570 See, see] Shee, shee [pshaw] mtby2; sessa [meaning uncertain; cf. Shr. Ind.1.6] mtby3
2579 found] sought mtby4
2584 neither‸]  ~ , mtby4
2591 Beard] head mtby4
2599 Affaires] affair mtby4
2604 A] You or Ye mtby2
2607 with . . . not] not with . . . but Daniel (1870, p. 47)
2607 stamped . . . Steele] stabbing steel, not stamped coin Deighton (ed. 1889, p. 179)
2607 not stabbing] note-stabbing [wound-impressing] mtheo1
2609 vs] your self mtby2
2617 at toaze] or tease mlong; as to axe [ask] Bulloch (1878, pp. 122–3); to learne Gould (1887, p. 69); or ease Spence (1890); or coax mper; to toaze (in order to tease) pen2
2633 be] me Walker (1860, 3:115)
2635 on’s] of’s capn (v.r.)
2650 hand-fast,] band, fast, wh1
2651 Curses] lashes mtby4
2655 heauie . . . bitter] bitter . . . heavy m1768fl
2658–9 Ram-tender] ram-pander mtby4
2672 him] his Death mcole
2677 where . . . aboord] aboard where he is mtby4
2677 is‸]  ~ , mtby4
2682 and] for Daniel (1870, p. 47)
2683 hee is] is he Walker (1860, 2:246)
2684 out-side] inside mtby2
2693 Moitie] money mtby4
2695 sort] case mtby2
2706 looke] leeke [piss] mtheo1
2716 how that . . . backe] both . . . belike Bailey (1866, pp. 241–2); but . . . back Kinnear (1883, p. 188)
2716 backe] Turke mstau
2720 so farre] over mtby2
2739–40 true. Paul.] Paul. True, mtheo1; Paul. ’Tis true mlong
2742 the] them mtby4
2752 time] king Gould (1884, p. 58)
2756 so] too mtby3
2758 little] a little Heath (1765, p. 218)
2760 his] this mtby4
2769 secret] sacred mtby2
2779 Oppose] Oppos’d mtby4
2794–6 and . . . me?] (and . . . appear soul-vex’d,) And begin, why to me? mal
2795 (Where . . . appeare) Soule-vext,] (Where we offenders now appear, soul-vex’d) Steevens (v1773); (Where we offended,) now appear Jackson (1819, pp. 145–6); (Where we offend her) new appear soul-vex’d, Spedding in cam1; Where we offenders show, appear soul-vext, Orger (1890, pp. 64–5); (Where we offenders move) appear Herford (ed. 1916–); Where we offended, new-appear soul-vex’d, A. Walker in ard2
2795 Offendors . . . appeare)] offended,) now appear, Jackson (1819, p. 146)
2795–6 now . . . me?] move) appeare, Soul vext At my sin, to eye me. Rashbrook (1947)
2796 And . . . me?] Appear in white to me mtby2; Beginning, Why to me? mlet; And beckon to me Why? Bulloch (1878, pp. 123–4); And bellow Why to me? Kinnear (1883, pp. 188–9); And begin why? to me. Spence (1890); Demanding, Why to me? Orger (1890, p. 65); And begging Why to me. A. Walker in ard2
2796 why] woe mtby2, mper
2798 iust such] such just Gould (1884, p. 22)
2807 Starres, Starres] Starres, living [or sparkling or heavenly] Starres mlet
2826 bidst] Bridest mgrey
2829–31 Verse lines ending himselfe . . . Florizell. mtby2
2830 Seruant] Servant-poet mcol2
2835 What] What Trayne mtheo1
2849 so;] she— mtby4
2857 This is] This’ Walker (1854, pp. 84–5)
2860 who] them Seymour (1805, 1:170)
2860 but bid] bid but mflV.a.80
2860 follow] follow me mtby4
2873 ’Prethee . . . cease] Prithee no more or I prithee, cease Lettsom in dyce2
2873 ’Prethee] Pray Walker (1860, 3:116)
2886 Princesse (Goddesse)] priceless Goddess mstau
2895 touch’d‸]  ~ , mtby2
2896 friend] friends Seymour (1805, 1:170)
2898 times . . . seiz’d] limbs . . . stay’d Gould (1884, p. 22)
2898 times] time mlet
2916, 2926 Libia] Lydia mtby2; Lycia Douce (1807, 1:362–3)
2916 Smalus] Synalus ard2
2920 his] at mwarb, Heath (1765, p. 219)
2921 friendly] friending mtby2
2929 The blessed] The ever-blessed mal; Oh! [or And] may the Blessed Mitford (1844, p. 128)
2930 whilest] while mflV.a.80
2932 Gentleman] gentle man mcap2
2934 For] Of mtby2
2935 and] Om. Tannenbaum (1928, p. 363)
2961 so] sir mtby4
2973 You are] Then you are not mtby3
2974 Flo.] Per. mF2fl27, Gotch (1900)
2976 Given to Leo. or Lord mtby3
2986 That] Then mtby3
2988 visible an] visibly our or visible as or visible and mtby4
2991 since] when ktly (2:513)
3002 these] those capn (v.r.)
3011–12 Relation] revolution mtby3
3020–9 the changes . . . be.] Om. mcol2
3024 very] every Anon. in cam1
3027 seeing] by seeing mwarb
3045 in] and mtby2
3046 Affection] Affectation mtheo1
3049–100 Did . . . vniuersall.] Om. mcol2
3052 was] wants mtby4
3053 of] oft mtby4
3054 crowne] drown mtby4
3072 with] of capn (v.r.)
3117–20 Four verse lines ending benefit . . . eye . . . us . . . along. Walker (1860, 1:13)
3117 thence] from hence mflV.a.80
3118 winke] winking Walker (1860, 1:13)
3125 he at] being at or he being mtby4
3127–8 continuing] commencing mtby4
3152 there was] these was m1768fl; these were rann
3178 proue] do prove mtby3
3189 Seruices] Seruice mlet
3193 Grace] favour mflV.a.80
3194 may] can mflV.a.80
3204 you] you’ve Anon. in cam1
3206 apart] aperte [L. on purpose] Becket (1815, 1:367–8)
3217 much] Om. mtby4, Seymour (1805, 1:171)
3221 lets . . . makes] let . . . made mtby4
3235 And] A [Ah!] Kellner (1925, p. 128)
3242 Sorrow was] sorrow’s [the color of Leontes’s sorrow] mtby2
3245 no] nor ever Anon. in cam2
3246 But] But it mlet
3253 Would . . . mine)] For the stone is mine, would thus have wrought you mwarb
3253 (for . . . mine)] For the stone i’th’mine Tyrwhitt (1766, pp. 26–7); For a stone o’th’ mine As you like it (1789, p. 712)
3259 I . . . thinkes] ’twere alive, but that methinks t’s mtby3
3259 alreadie.] already | I am in heaven, and looking on an angel. Anon. in Singer (1853, p. 81)
3262 beare] beat mtby3
3301–2 still: On] still On’t Nicholson in cam2
3302 On:] All mcol2; But Gould (1884, p. 22); Oh! Tannenbaum (1928, p. 364)
3308 vpon] upon’t Anon. in cam1
3310 numnesse] dumbness Gould (1884, p. 22)
3315 kill her double] kill her doubly mtby2; double kill her mtby4
3321–2 One verse line mcap2
3322–3 Verse lines ending pertain . . . too. mtby2, Walker (1860, 3:116)
3322–4 She . . . I] Verse lines ending pertain . . . Ay mlet
3346 bough] bower mtby1
3358 worth, and honesty] honesty and worth mtby2
3361 What? . . . vpon‸ . . . Brother:]  ~ ‸ . . .  ~ , . . .  ~ ? [What do you look upon, my brother?] mwarb
3361 my] me m1768fl
3363 This your Son-in-law] Addressed to Shepherd mwarb
3364 heauens] heaven m1768fl
3367 one] other mtby4
3369 disseuer’d: Hastily‸]  ~ ‸  ~ : mstau

The Text

Authenticity

That Sh. was not the author of the entirety of WT was casually suggested by Pope (ed. 1725, 1:xx): I make no doubt to declare that those wretched plays [such as Pericles, added to the canon in F3], cannot be admitted as his. And I should conjecture of some of the others, (particularly Love’s Labour Lost, The Winter’s Tale, and Titus Andronicus) that only some characters, single scenes, or perhaps a few particular passages, were of his hand. Robertson (1930, pp. 133–4), a more dedicated disintegrator, also finds WT unworthy. Time’s prologue (lines 1579–1611) has quite an un-Shakespearean aspect. The I mentioned [1601], further, implies a previous prologue, which has been dropped. Perhaps the clearest ground for suspecting a non-Shakespearean hand is the rhyming of after with daughter, a thing unexampled in Shakespeare’s serious work, but emphatically of a kind of perverse rhyming much affected by Chapman. (For the rhyme, see n. 1606–7.) The chief æsthetic difficulty of the play, Leontes’s sudden jealousy, is not like [134] Shakespeare. . . . It would be a more satisfying solution if . . . the unnaturally rapid action had been imposed by a previous constructor, of whom we seem to find plain traces.

The critical problems Robertson discovers have concerned others (see n. 181–92 for Leontes’s jealousy, for example), but no one else attributes the apparent disparities to a previous constructor. WT is generally regarded as authentically Sh.’s. Some critics who accept this opinion believe, nevertheless, that the play as it stands is a revision of a version in which Hermione really dies. See, for example, Craig (Revisions, 1931, pp. 347–8) and, for a more recent expression of the idea, Mueller (1971).

The 1623 Version of The Winter’s Tale

The printing of the First Folio (1623), in which WT was originally published, has been analyzed by Willoughby (1932), by Shroeder (1956), and, most thoroughly and expertly, by Hinman (1963), on whose work much of this account is based. On 8 November 1623, close to the publication date of Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies, sixteen of the plays were entered in the Stationers’ Register to Edward Blount and Isaac Jaggard (Arber, 1875–94, 4:69). Blount, a publisher and bookseller, was the leading member of the syndicate sponsoring publication of the First Folio. Isaac Jaggard, a printer, publisher, and bookseller, had replaced his late father, William, as a principal member of the syndicate. Wilson (1925) believes that because of William’s blindness and failing health in 1622–3, Isaac was the chief overseer of the printing of the collection. The entry covers soe manie of the said Copies as are not formerly entred to other men and lists, according to their order in the Folio, eight comedies, two histories, and six tragedies.

WT is the last of the comedies named in the entry; it is also the last play in the first section of F1 (the Comedies), where it occupies sigs. Aa1–Cc2 (pages 277–303); gathering Cc is a single sheet. The play is preceded by AWW (sigs. V1v–Y1v) and TN (Y2–Z6). The text of WT, which concludes in the top third of Cc2, is followed by The Names of the Actors. Sixteen characters are identified by name, and Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants. Shepheards, and Shephearddesses covers the rest (3370–88). Among the Comedies, the first, second, and fourth plays—Tmp., TGV, and MM—are equipped with similar dramatis personae, and all were probably typeset from manuscripts in the hand of the scribe Ralph Crane, of whom more below. He may have compiled these lists, although Eccles (ed. MM, 1980, p. 3, n. 2940) points out that in the case of a work by Webster, Crane is more likely to have copied than to have originated the list printed in [The Duchess of Malfi] in 1623 [from another Crane transcript], since it names . . . actors . . . who had died in 1614, and . . . in 1619. Wiv., the third play in the Comedies section and probably another Crane copy, lacks space for such a list.

Beneath The Names of the Actors in WT is the satyr tailpiece, in which a small defect acquired during the course of the F1 printing shows that the last page of Jn. (b5v) was printed before the last page of TN (Z6) and the last page of WT (Hinman, 1:179–80). Sig. Cc2v is blank. Since the play following WT in the Folio is Jn., the first of the history plays, the blank may seem to have been left so that the Histories section of the book could begin on a recto. This nicety, however, was actually compelled by the fact that Jn. and part of R2, which follows Jn., had been printed before the typesetting of WT began (Hinman, 1:37). It is more extraordinary that the first page of WT is preceded by blank Z6v. Hunter (1845, 1:417) suggests that there was some danger of losing this play. In the folio collection there is a blank page following Twelfth Night, as if there the collection of comedies ended, and the histories were about to begin: and my copy of the first folio actually wants the Winter’s Tale. Pollard (1909, p. 135) thought there had been simply a miscalculation of the space required for TN, but the anomaly seems to arise from another and more complicated cause.

As Hinman (2:521) explains—repeating to some extent the conclusions of Willoughby (1932, pp. 34–43)—when AWW was nearly completed, Compositor B, who had been working alone on that play, skipped to the Histories. With Compositor C he set all of Jn., which begins at sig. a1, and then two pages of R2, b6–6v. B at that point returned to the Comedies. By himself he finished AWW and TN, which concluded on Z6. He then set two more pages of R2 and, after an interruption for work on another book, with Compositor A set ten more pages of R2 and proceeded to WT. The blank Z6v is thus a legacy of the excursions from the Comedies into the Histories and back again, sheet Z having been printed before copy for WT was available. (Shroeder, p. 42, notices another minor consequence: In the first sheet of Jn. to be printed, sig. a3 is designated Aa3, in the style of the signature alphabet to be used later for WT.) Hinman continues: For some reason the copy for Twelfth Night was not readily available when quire X was finished (though it evidently became so soon afterward), and . . . the copy for The Winter’s Tale was in like manner unavailable when quire Z was finished (though on this occasion the want was made good even more quickly than before). . . . No difficulty over copyright can be supposed—only some short-lived trouble over the copy itself. He thus puts to rest several earlier speculations, such as that of White (ed. 1857, 5:275): It is possible that in gathering the plays together Heminge and Condell forgot this one [WT] until the folio was nearly in type; but it is more probable that, finding it no more tragical [i.e., less so] in its course or its catastrophe than Cymbeline, they first intended to class it with the Tragedies [as Cym. is], and after it was ready to be struck off restored it to its proper place among the Comedies. Equally groundless is the explanation of Furness (ed. 1898, p. vii) that inasmuch as the sheets were printed off . . . at different presses [he seems to be referring, incorrectly, to printing houses], it was undoubtedly easier to leave a whole page blank at the end of a signature than to transfer a single page of The Winter’s Tale to the press that was striking off Twelfth Night.

According to Hinman (2:496–503), the formes of quires Aa through Cc were set by Compositors A and B in the following sequence:

A B A B A A A A A A A B B B B A B A B A B A B A A - A B
Aa3v: 4 Aa3: 4v Aa2v: 5 Aa2: 5v Aa1v: 6 Aa1: 6v Bb3v: 4 Bb3: 4v Bb2v: 5 Bb2: 5v Bb1v: 6 Bb1: 6v Cc1: 2v Cc1v: 2
His compositor attributions agree with the earlier allocation by Pafford (1961, p. 173) and the later allocation by Wells & Taylor (1987, p. 150). For Howard-Hill (1973, pp. 84–7), however, it is uncertain that the A of the early comedies and the A of WT and the histories [are] the same compositor. . . . The compositor of WT prefers indeed, mistresse, [and in elisions] x’th, and x’le whereas in A’s pages of Tmp., TGV, Wiv., MM and MV the corresponding preferences are indeede, mistris, x’th/xth, and x’ll. Howard-Hill also finds (p. 85) that, with respect to chuse (two instances in WT) / choose (0), deare (2) / deere (2), deuil(l) (2) / diuell (0), graunt (1) / grant (0), grief(ue) (8) / greef (ue) (0), Heauen (11) / heauen (0), howre (0) / houre (1), indeed (10) / indeede (0), mistresse (7) / mistris (2), scarce (1) / scarse (0), suddaine (1) / sodaine (0), yeere (7) / yeare (0), and young (8) / yong (0), Compositor A of R2 and WT preferred the first form and Compositor A of the earlier Comedies the second. As the figures indicate, though, not all of these preferences are expressed powerfully or even at all in WT alone.

Howard-Hill explains his differentiation between the two Compositors A (pp. 86–7): Whereas the comedies compositor would quite often space a fair number of internal commas, occasionally more than were left without spaces, the practice of the [87] histories A is much more pronounced and never, in the plays . . . examined, is there a greater number of spaced commas to unspaced commas. . . . Also, before WT, the compositor A [of the Comedies] was indifferent to whether he set the first word of the speech together with the speech-prefix in a catchword, or the speech-prefix alone, but in the histories his invariable practice was to supply the first word of the dialogue with which the next page started. In WT, catchwords consisting of speech prefix and a word of dialogue are found on Aa3, Aa5v, Bb5v, and Cc1, all attributed to A, whereas abbreviated speech prefixes only are found on Aa4, Bb1v, Bb2, and Bb2v, all attributed to B. The Compositor A of WT thus appears to be the Compositor A of the Histories, not the Compositor A of the earlier Comedies. The latter was designated F by Howard-Hill (1973, p. 87). But Werstine (1984, p. 92), noticing that in the text assigned to Compositor F, portions of prose speeches that mark a change of address or of topic may be given a new line, a characteristic of Compositor D, wonders whether any distinction can be made between the two workmen. (The subject awaits further investigation.) Moreover, the validity of spacing as a compositorial discriminant has been questioned by McKenzie (1984). He found that its apparent testimony in early books printed at the Cambridge University Press does not accord with the work records kept.

The signatures of WT translate into line numbers as follows:

And they translate into sequentially ordered signatures and line numbers as follows:

About the order of composition there is little different from the regular procedure for typesetting F1. The manuscript text would be cast off—that is, before typesetting began, the words of the manuscript would be allotted to specific type pages—so that the two compositors could work more or less simultaneously. Both started with the innermost forme; and then one of them usually worked backward through the page sequence of each quire and the other forward. Since much of the text is regular verse, its casting off amounted to little more than counting the number of verse lines needed to fill the two columns of each page. Even on pages largely of prose (e.g., Bb1–2), white lines left above and below stage directions and scene heads permitted expansion or contraction, so that the typeset words could be fitted into the estimated space. Nothing shows what B did while A set Aa1v–2v, 5v–6 by himself.

The few irregularities are minor. On Aa1, the first page of the play but the last of the Aa gathering set by Compositor A, the white space preceding and following Scœna Secunda, near the foot of column a, is reduced, to allow plenty of room for the ornament, head title, and initial entrance direction at the top of the page and to avoid having the scene head or the initial SD stand alone at the foot of the column. At 467 (Aa2vb), perhaps to gain a couple of lines, an entrance direction, rather than being centered, is set on the same line as the conclusion of a speech—or, if the direction had been overlooked earlier, it could have been inserted there after the column was in type. SDs similarly placed are found at 2005 (Compositor B) and at 3029 (Compositor A). On Bb3a there are about two lines of white space above and below Autolycus’s song (2044–55), but on Bb3b his second song in the scene (2139–44) is crowded into the text: A one-line speech has been run into the concluding line of another speech (2138); the logotype yt is used (2146, its only appearance in WT, although ye is found at 1672); and probably line 2080 has been moved from the head of column b to the foot of column a, where it now occupies the direction line, normally blank in column a. Lines 2145–6 may have been reset. Pafford (1961, p. 173) suspects some mistake in the casting off or else some later insertion, perhaps the song. The latter seems likely, and if the song was overlooked, it may have been written on a piece of paper not a part of the main MS. Pafford suggests, too, that the typesetting of Bb3 was done by Compositor E, supposed to be an apprentice, but Hinman and Howard-Hill disagree. Pafford’s opinion, however, is shared by Cairncross (1972, p. 382).

Harrison (1948, p. 242) argues that in his later plays not only did Shakespeare abandon blank verse in conversation, but in the longer speeches he often substituted for the normal pattern of five feet . . . a much freer short line verse. This opinion is reiterated by Bertram (1981), who urges modern editors to forgo relining as iambic pentameter the apparently irregular verse of the early eds. In doing so, he says, they obscure Sh.’s rhetorical instructions to the actors, instructions that are embodied in the lineation of the early texts. Werstine (1984), investigating whether the line division in the Folio is Sh.’s or the F compositors’, finds that in the late plays, including WT, departures from iambic pentameter are usually caused by the compositors’ need to create or waste space to make cast-off copy fit its typographical allocation. The irregular lineation has nothing to do with rhetorical instructions.

The F1 Copy

According to Greg (1957, 3:1111), There is external evidence of trouble over the copy for this play [WT], for on 19 Aug. 1623 the Master of the Revels relicensed the piece since the allowed booke was missing[e] [see here], though by that time the play must have been already printed. And it probably was; Hinman (1:357) believes that the work on quires c and Aa–Cc may well have taken place in December 1622. (Earlier scholarship, summarized by Greg, 1955, p. 461, arrived at nearly the same date, late November.) Even though the manuscript of WT bearing the original license had been lost, however, at least one other copy existed to provide a basis both for the production with which the Master of the Revels, Sir Henry Herbert, was concerned and for F1 printer’s copy. Willoughby (in J. D. Wilson, ed. 1931, p. 113 n.) suggests that what Herbert actually saw was the printed sheets of WT. This is possible, of course; as Greg (1955, p. 417 n.) points out, though, they would have needed a lot of editing [presumably the addition of bookkeeper’s notes for control of the performance and perhaps the cutting of dialogue] and have provided very little room for it. Knowles (privately) suggests that the company may have retrieved from Jaggard the Crane transcript. That is also a possibility. Manuscript returned by modern letterpress printers may be too marked up and inky for theatrical use, but the copy for the 1591 English translation of Orlando Furioso, as described by Greg (1924), is quite neat. In that case, however, it may have made a difference that the manuscript was being received by Sir John Harington, the translator. Because the F1 text has no theatrical stigmata, there is no support for the opinion, voiced by Lee (1902, p. xxvi), that after being represented on the stage, the MS version of the play licensed by Herbert was sent to press.

In his TGV, Wilson (ed. 1921, p. 78) had argued that the copy for The Two Gentlemen was made up by stringing together players’ parts and arranging them in acts and scenes by the aid of a plot. A plot in this sense was an outline of the action of a play, recording entrances and exits, properties, noises, and other details of performance of which the prompter wanted to be reminded (for further information, see Greg, 1922). Wilson’s idea was quickly adapted to WT. Because, in his opinion, WT has no stage-directions, or very few, Rhodes (1922, pp. 59–60) asserts that the text cannot have been set up by the printer from the prompt-book. It was, instead, (p. 60) assembled from the players’ parts, complete with cue, dialogue, and certain directions, and . . . a detailed extract from the stage-directions to serve as his [the prompter’s] remembrancer—that is, the plot. The plot would furnish a guide for sorting the players’ parts and keeping them in order whilst pasting them together into one continuous text, which would, however, inevitably lack many directions. Rhodes finds that WT bears all the stigmata of an assembled text. The entrances of the players are not, as usual, distributed in the places where they are due to appear, but each scene is headed by a list of characters. . . . In all the five acts there are not more than a dozen incidental entrances and exits, and those are mostly of minor characters.

The same idea is expressed more fully by Rhodes (1923, pp. 98–100), and, after it receives favorable mention by Pollard (1923, p. 8), is reiterated by J. D. Wilson (1924, pp. 72–6). This view, reflecting Johnson’s (1756; 1968, 7:52) opinion that Sh.’s plays were printed . . . from compilations made by chance or by stealth out of the separate parts written for the theatre, was obviously influenced by TGV’s and WT’s massed entries (that is, the lists at the head of a scene not only of the characters who appear at its beginning but also of those who enter later). WT has massed entries at 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 3.2, 3.3, 4.4, 5.1, and 5.3. The characters are listed according to social rank or importance in the drama in 2.1 (in two groups) and 5.3 but in the approximate order of their speaking in 2.2, 2.3, 3.2, 3.3, and 4.4. In 5.1, those present at the beginning are in order of rank; Florizel and Perdita, named last, enter later. Plays in the Ben Jonson folio (1616) also have massed entries, as do the quartos from which the folio texts derive. In Webster’s Duchess of Malfi (1623), according to Bald (1931–2, pp. 244–6), occasionally a character named in a massed entry fails to appear in the scene; and Greg (1931–2) reports that in Massinger’s autograph MS of Believe as you List, a massed entry includes characters who enter later. In these instances, players’ parts cannot have been involved unless, as in the case of BAYL, the point of entry was specified in another direction or could be deduced from another feature of the text. In any event, parts do not seem to have been involved in WT.

Although it was endorsed by J. D. Wilson in his 1931 ed. of WT (p. 122), the theory of assembled texts was to collapse under its impracticalities. (For a history of its career, see Greg, 1955, pp. 156–8.) Speculation about the fate of WT’s allowed book continued, however. Adams (1917, p. 25, n. 2) guesses that the MS was misplaced by the printer of F1. Such an eventuality would be possible if the allowed book was printer’s copy, for WT probably was printed in December 1622, and the entry in Herbert’s office book was dated 19 Aug. 1623 (see here). In the decade following Adams’s study, though, WT’s textual history began to be understood differently. Greg (1926, p. 154) found that the manuscripts of Fletcher and Massinger’s Barnavelt and Middleton’s The Witch (see here) were in the same handwriting, and F. P. Wilson (1926–7) proved that the hand was that of Ralph Crane, a scrivener associated with the King’s Men, who had signed his name to his transcript of Fletcher’s Demetrius and Enanthe; or, The Humorous Lieutenant (see here). To this signed document, Crane’s other surviving work, some also signed, is linked by distinctive and recurrent stylistic features. Wilson’s attribution of the Folio copy of WT to Crane was attacked unsuccessfuly by Tannenbaum (1933, pp. 75–86), who mistakenly thought the MS was quite possibly Shakespeare’s own manuscript.

F. P. Wilson (1926–7, pp. 211–14) describes some general characteristics of [Crane’s] work. 1. A publisher who came by one of Crane’s transcripts might reasonably expect from the printer an accurate text. . . . 2. All Crane’s transcripts are carefully divided into acts and scenes. . . . [212] 3. Those stage-directions in Barnavelt which are in Crane’s handwriting give little information apart from mere statements of exits and entrances [Fletcher and Massinger’s Barnavelt is preserved in British Library MS Add. 18653; see Fredson Bowers, ed., in The Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon, 8:485–501]. . . . In Crane’s other transcripts the directions never smack of the theatre. . . . [214] Statements of entrances are massed together at the head of each scene. Chambers (1930, 1:488–9) finds that the SDs in WT consist of little more than entries and exits, and the latter are often omitted. The entries are normally given in [4.3] and [5.2], but for the other scenes all the characters taking part, whether they are present from the beginning or not, are grouped in the initial entry. This follows the order of their appearance, and in [2.1, 3.2, 5.1, and 5.3], but not elsewhere, the successively appearing characters or [489] groups of characters are marked off by colons in the stage-directions. Howard-Hill (1972, p. 130) points out that the massed directions with colons were typeset by Compositor A, those without by Compositor B, who was apparently unwilling to print the colons from copy.

The entrance directions are of four types. The first, reflecting English tradition, marks entrances as the characters appear (4.3 and 5.2). The second, reflecting neoclassical tradition, includes some of the massed entries discussed earlier (here). In this type, all the characters appearing in the scene are named in the initial SD, although some actually enter later; their entrances are unmarked (2.1, 2.2, and 3.2; the SD for 3.2 omits Paulina, unless she is included among the Ladies, and the Servant who enters at 1323). The third is neutral: all characters who appear in the scene are present from the beginning (1.1, 1.2, 3.1, 4.1, 4.2, and 5.3). The fourth is hybrid: all who appear in the scene are named in the initial entry but some actually enter later, and their entrance is marked (2.3, 3.3 [except for the Shepherd who enters at 1501], 4.4 [except for the Servant who enters at 2145], and 5.1 [except for the Lord who enters at 2940]). Since the stage directions in all the Shn. texts thought to be printed from foul papers are in the English style and since there is no reason to think that Jaggard would have introduced the neoclassical, Crane must be its source and the source of the inconsistencies as well.

Only a few SDs add anything to the bare entrances and exits: as to her Triall (1174–5), pursued by a Beare (1500), the Chorus (1579), singing (1668 and 2043), Heere a Da(u)nce of (1988 and 2164), and like a Statue (3185). Of these, singing is common, of course. As to is unusual; it occurs in only two other Shn. SDs (Trumpets sound as to a charge [TNK 5.3.55.1]; Enter as to the Parliament [R2 4.1.0.1 (1921)] and there in F only, not in Q). WT’s pursued by is unique in Sh. Like is sometimes preceded by a participle—for example, habited like Shepheards (H8 1.4.63 [753]) or drest like Vincentio (Shr. 4.4.0 [2180])—but more often in Sh. it is not—Enter Ariel like a water-Nymph (Tmp. 1.2.316 [453–4]) and like a Harpey (3.3.52 [1583]), like Gentlemen (MM, DP [2946]), and like himselfe (Tim. 1.2.0 [341]). Similar SDs appear in AYLlike Forresters (2.1.0 [606]) and like Out-lawes (2.7.0 [972]); in Tit.like a Cooke (5.3.25 [2525]); and in Cym.like a poore Souldier (5.2.0.4 [2894]). These texts were printed from a variety of sources, according to Wells & Taylor (pp. 145–7), who represent a recent, although not universally shared, opinion: Tmp. from a Crane transcript possibly of foul papers, MM from a Crane transcript of what we now call a promptbook, Tim. from foul papers (Middleton’s and Sh.’s), AYL from a transcript or a promptbook, Tit. from foul papers, and Cym. from a transcript probably by Crane, of a manuscript in two hands. The SDs in WT obviously contribute nothing to our knowledge of Crane’s copy.

Punctuation marks, especially parentheses and apostrophes, provide another approach to the study of the F1 version of WT. Thorndike (1934), having assiduously counted the parentheses in the F1 texts thought not to have been printed from quartos, finds the greatest number in WT (369, 2 short of the number given by a later critic—see below, here), 2H4 (259), Wiv. (219), Cym. (158), and TGV (129). The printer’s copy for all but 2H4 is now believed, with more or less conviction, to have been Crane transcripts. Thorndike also notices that TGV, Wiv., and WT have collective entries of the type found in Crane’s (MS Malone 25) transcript of Thomas Middleton’s A Game at Chess. Pafford (1961, pp. 175–7) notes that, in WT, apostrophes mark—in addition to omitted vowels (as in ’d preterits)—parts of words (cam’t for came it, le’t for let it) and entire words before exclamations or appeals (’Beseech you) or in the middle of a phrase (Who taught ’this). The apostrophe is also used where apparently nothing has been dropped. . . . E.g., has—the verb, not a contraction of he has—is usually printed ha’s. . . . [176] The apostrophe was sometimes perhaps used vaguely, to indicate that writer or compositor realized that a word was abbreviated but did not know how to show it; e.g. Gillyvors, presumably for gillyflowers . . . is first spelt Gilly-vors [line 1890] and then Gilly’vors [1910]. In contrast there are cases where something is dropped but no apostrophe used. Instances include Ile (73, 95, 97, 121, etc.), th for the (1408, 1450, 2375), tane (1730), ha (1743), and fore (2221). Howard-Hill (1972, p. 129) also finds many possessive singulars of nouns with apostrophes after vowels [e.g., Camillo’s (792), Cytherea’s (1936)], it’s with the apostrophe [for its—e.g., 231, 236, 357, 1488], it for the possessive [e.g., 1110, 1279]. To the suggestion by Pafford (p. 176) that the colons punctuating many SDs might be traceable to Edward Knight, at one time bookkeeper to the King’s Men, Howard-Hill (1966) objects that Crane’s MS Malone 25 uses colons in massed entries to separate characters who enter later from those with whom the scene begins, whereas Knight did not use colons for this purpose.

The fundamental study of Crane’s work is Howard-Hill (1972), which superseded such earlier studies as that of Somer (1962). A summary of Howard-Hill’s and other research on Crane is provided by Haas (1989). Eight of Crane’s dramatic manuscripts survive, three being of Middleton’s A Game at Chess. Three additional MS copies of this play, one in Middleton’s hand, also exist, and comparison of Crane’s versions with Middleton’s affords an unusual opportunity to isolate many details attributable to the scribe rather than to the copy from which he worked. Eight nondramatic transcripts in Crane’s hand have also survived, and comparison of these and the dramatic transcripts permits more characteristics of Crane’s work to be identified. Those evident in WT include The Names of the Actors (3370–88) and the massed entrances mentioned above; division of the text into acts and scenes; descriptive stage directions (see here); some characteristic spellings (the very common ’em; see below for many more); the Jonsonian elision at 109 (Verely’is); numerous hyphens linking, for example, prepositions and objects, prefixes and stems, adverbs and adjectives, adjectives and substantives, and stems and suffixes (6, 17, 24, 30, 50, 73, 79, etc.); and, according to Howard-Hill (p. 82), huge quantities of colons and parentheses, 839 of the former and 371 of the latter. He points out (p. 87) that of the possible situations where parentheses [to enclose vocatives] could have been used, 39% of the vocatives in WT have them. Wells & Taylor (p. 601) add parentheses to mark passages spoken aside at 2516–17 and 2520. Crane may not be entirely responsible for the text’s numerous hyphens, however; McKenzie (1959, p. 81) finds that in setting MV Q2 (1619), Compositor B hyphenated such words as bed-fellow and me-thinks 25 times and deleted the hyphen in his copy only 9 times. (While John F. Andrews found that me-thinks was hyphenated only by Compositor B’s fellow-workman on MV [1619] and the other Pavier quartos [The Pavier Quartos of 1619—Evidence for Two Compositors (Vanderbilt diss., 1970)], nonetheless it remains true that Compositor B did introduce hyphens into many words he set in these quartos. There is reason to doubt, however, that Compositor B worked on the Pavier quartos: see R. Knowles, SB 35 [1982], 202.)

A great many of Crane’s characteristic spellings appear in WT, although, as one might expect, there are some exceptions. Howard-Hill’s summary (pp. 64–8) includes, but is not limited to, the following:

  • -ei-, never -ie- (all such spellings in WT accord with modern convention—e.g., perceiue [263] and Heire [1315])
  • -lly, never -ly (the same—e.g., naturally [2595])
  • -ing, never -eing (the same—e.g., mouing [431])
  • -nck (e.g., prancks [2583] and wrinckled [3217], although these are far outnumbered by such -nk forms as ranke [369] and Winke [414])
  • -ll, never -l (Royall [28], wooll [1703], but wil [453] and shal [1304], both full lines)
  • -s, never -es, for plurals of nouns with short vowels (e.g., Gifts [31], things [2939])
  • -es, never -s, for plurals of nouns ending in -th/sh/ch (Oathes [85], blushes [1872], Wenches [2136])
  • -ings, never inges, for words ending in -ing (Fadings [2020] but singes [2008], a full line; the spelling is not found elsewhere)
  • -s or -sse, never -ss (e.g., killes [1750], Presse [74], kisse [3284], but also Princess [2832])
  • b is not doubled before -’d or -ed (e.g., rob’d [past tense of rob; 1729], but crabbed [173]); it is doubled before -ing after short vowels (e.g., stabbing [2607])
  • d is not doubled before -s or -es (but toddes [1701], Goddes [1826], addes [1902], oddes [2976]), before -ing (but bidding [733, 1100, and 1143]); or before -er (e.g., hinder [79])
  • g is not doubled before -ing, -er, -es, but is probably doubled after an unvoiced short vowel (e.g., Egges [206], Dagger [235], pugging [1675])
  • Doubled consonants are retained before -ed, but one -l may be dropped before -d (e.g., crabbed [173], spotted [427], Added [793], muzzel’d [235], and Il’d [462]). An exception to the doubling of l before -ed is (vn)setled (this word only) (224, 424, 1767, 2385, and 3272)
  • m is doubled medially only after short vowels (e.g., (be)comming [8 and 1464], Commission [97], and command [1665]) but not before -es or -s (e.g., lames [3066] and redeemes [3311], plurals in which the vowels are long)
  • n is doubled medially after short vowels (e.g., Sonne(s) [46 and 3136], manner [3093], and winners [3344]) but not after long vowels or before -s (e.g., finer [312] and begins [469])
  • p is generally not doubled medially, but there are exceptions (e.g., Coppy [197], slipperie [365], Lippe [479], Appollo’s [801])
  • r is doubled after short vowels (e.g., Starre [50], morrow [61], and Iarre [100])
  • s is doubled after short vowels (e.g., Hostesse [121], Kisse [165 and 3284], and Glasse [402])
  • t is doubled after short vowels and before -ing (e.g., pitty [670] and committing [1189])
  • w is always single
  • z is always single (reversed in WT: muzzel’d [235] and Chizzell [3279]).

Other Crane preferences are for w in such words as sowr’d (173), Lowt (397), scowre (631), lowd’st (865), Perswades (868), powre (927 and 1586), and howre (1587); for internal a in roab’d (1830), Coarse (1944, 1946), poaking (2052), and coap’st (2267); for -que in Basilisque (496), publique (815), and Heretique (1042); for internal -y- in prayse (18), trayn’d (25), and tyre (66); for blood (20 times; no other spelling occurs). He was elsewhere indifferent to the termination ance/aunce, but in WT aunce is found only in daunce(s) (183 and 1988), whereas dance occurs eight times, once at 1991—two lines from Daunce. Among spellings preferred by Crane and not likely to have been altered to justify lines of type, Howard-Hill (pp. 100–2) lists, for WT, Councels (326; plural noun), Physick (282), powrefull (284, 622), and wayting (163).

Those that also may signify Crane are councell (singular nouns: 2777, 2786), extreames (1804), flowre(s) (1879, 1886, 1889, 1916, 1919, 1927, 1931, 1941), graunt (187, 2994; but also grant [1616]), howre (1587), moneth(s) (98, 173, 2089, 2871, 2998), powr’d (2172), and publique (815). And to these Howard-Hill adds (pp. 171–2) Crane spellings adopted by Compositor B against his preference: Angell (2034), answere (2023), approach (1465, 1857, 2036), choice (2137, 2257), daylie (1434 as dayly), deed (797, 1571), extreames (1804), forth (837, 979, 1606), happie (2178), howre (1587), mightie (921, 1725), moneth (2089), need (1722, 2256; neede, 6 times), old (1860, 2089, 2179, 2263, 3328, 3345; olde, twice), powre (927, 1586, 1839), son (1638, 3363; sonne, 39 times), sun (1717, 1918), wee’ll (2135; wee’l 5 times), yeere(s) (1585, 1617, 1671; yeare(s) [1399, 1887]).

Spellings in Crane’s transcripts that Eccles (ed. MM, 1980) discovered in MM also appear in WT: beleeue (12 times), Coyne (2607), deere (10 times; deare 11 times), (vn)easie (118, 1661, 2662, 3298), medler (2143), meere (901, 1322, 1326), mistris (6 times; mistresse, 7 times), neere (8 times), peece (11 times; pieces once), practise/practis’d (189, 1352), sence (8 times), thether (1662, 2125; thither, 3 times), vertue (7 times), and yong (5 times; young, 9 times). Of all these spellings, Kable (1968, pp. 157–9) found extreames (1804), howre (1587), and moneth (2089) to be contrary to Compositor B’s preference, hence his copy spellings. Kable’s opinion, however, is compromised by R. Knowles’s finding that the work was not Compositor B’s (see here).

The two plays also display some similarities in punctuation. In WT as in MM, colons are preferred to semicolons, although more strongly (1 per 29 words, as opposed to 1 per 140 in MM). The exclamation point does not appear. Sometimes the question mark is exclamatory (at 265, for example), but in many instances its exclamatory function cannot be distinguished clearly from its interrogative one. One difference from MM and the transcripts is that the suffix is nearly always -nesse in WT; only one -nes is found, in 1663, a full line.

Howard-Hill (pp. 66–8) separately categorizes Crane’s spellings of words that have been used to identify the stints of Jaggard’s compositors. His tabulation may be compared with the occurrence of the spellings in WT (see table). Ignoring counts

Crane TranscriptsWT AWT B
no.%no.%no.%
ancient321375
auncient1179125
been015520
beene01448450
ben55
bin1450
byn10895
blood (only)89164
dear(e)351077112
deer(e)5395323788
do359233595
doe34590619725
doo21
n/either511003759100
n/eyther125
goe13010024100315
go1785
greef(e)(ue)11123100
greif(ue)4191
grief(ue)37788
heire (only)1052
here2299629100211
heere941789
here’s481002100686
heeres0114
houre128100150
howre6198150
Ile39143310032100
I’ll24786
indeed4610011100240
indeede360
mistris22851135100
mistresse312787
mistrisse13
note (only)2783
o672717521560
oh1797316481040
shew1113111004100
show7187
traitor17891343100
traytor211266
yeare3041240
yeere43597100360
yong47985100
young129100
below 3, one finds that Compositor A agrees with Crane in preferring blood, doe, n/either, goe, heire, indeed, and note but disagrees in preferring beene, dear, grief, houre, Ile, mistresse, o, shew, yeere, and young; and that Compositor B agrees in preferring blood, n/either, here’s, traitor, yeere, and yong but disagrees in preferring ancient, beene/bin, do, go, greef, heere, Ile, indeede, mistris, o, and shew. Hinman’s (1:180) observation that the spellings in the First Folio . . . are unquestionably printing-house spellings in the main—the spellings of the compositors who set them into type is confirmed by the saving grace of in the main.

Crane’s Copy

Because Crane exerted such a strong influence on the form of the texts he transcribed, it is not surprising that critics find it difficult to penetrate his version of WT as it is represented in F1. Greg (1955, pp. 416–17) believes that WT was late reaching the printer only because of the time required to make for Jaggard a transcript of the foul papers, an opinion with which Evans (ed. 1974, p. 1604) agrees. Howard-Hill (1965, p. 340), having protested against too facile an acceptance of numerous parentheses as indicative of Crane’s transcription, suggests, nevertheless, that the number in WT may indicate that the play was printed from a Crane transcript of his own earlier transcript, an idea developed further by Howard-Hill a year later (1966, p. 140). When, according to Howard-Hill, copy was being gathered for the Folio, Crane was given foul papers for Winter’s Tale with instructions to prepare also the promptbook for playhouse use. Crane prepared the promptbook first before making the transcript for the printer for by so doing he would release the foul papers in the shortest possible time to return to the security of the players’ collection of manuscripts. Had he prepared the Folio copy before the promptbook, we should not have the clean and sophisticated text, showing an unusually large number of parentheses, that we find in the Folio. On the same evidence, Crane apparently retained the promptbook, but probably returned the foul papers, so that he would avoid having to make both transcripts from foul papers. . . . He chose, therefore, to delay delivery of the Folio copy, perhaps thinking, or indeed knowing, that the printers had enough to go on with. [Howard-Hill (1992, p. 128) conjectures that the delay arose from Crane’s occupation with his transcript of Webster’s Duchess of Malfi.] From this order of events, we get a good, clean, literary text, with an unusually high number of parentheses consistent with other Crane transcripts from his own earlier papers, and, of course, a delay which affected the printing of Winter’s Tale in the First Folio. In his major work on Crane, Howard-Hill (1972, p. 131) adds, The massed entries [appearing in F1 and deriving from the printer’s copy] would have been out of place in a copy made for a promptbook but [they] easily could have been compiled from a transcript with conventional entries. Why he [Crane] should choose massed entries when he had a clean manuscript available is not readily explained, but the variety of the directions argues that the copy was prepared in some haste, under conditions which did not allow the scribe to adopt the massed convention completely.

The idea that the WT copy was a transcript of a transcript had appeared earlier in Howard-Hill (1965, pp. 337–8). The number of WT’s parentheses (371, 268), the article indicates, is substantially greater than that in the other Folio Comedies believed to have been set from Crane manuscripts—Tmp. 98 (115), TGV 128 (150), Wiv. 218 (241), and MM 75 (78); the first figure is the actual incidence and the second, the actual adjusted for the length of the plays. Since the Folio compositors did not have an identical fondness for parentheses, the figures adjusted for length become, when further adjusted to allow for Compositor A’s preference, Tmp. 116, TGV 131, Wiv. 308, and MM 62, in contrast to WT’s 415. Moreover, Crane’s several transcripts of A Game at Chess indicate that every time Crane recopied a text, he tended to reproduce the parentheses of his copy, but added to them, and . . . added more parentheses when he was transcribing from his own copy (p. 336). The WT transcript, Howard-Hill (1972, p. 70) observes, must have been made after any other transcripts he made for the Folio. Therefore the scribe’s habits would have been influenced both by the character of the copy before him, and by his increasing familiarity with the kind of material he had to work from.

A question about this theory arises from the massed entries. If they were undesirable in a promptbook, as Howard-Hill says, and if the WT promptbook was created before the printer’s copy, would Crane, having copied in the first transcript the entrances where the play’s action required them, have then taken the trouble to extract and compile these entries for each of the play’s eight scenes they head? The compilation is incomplete, moreover (4.3 and 5.2, which might have been massed, are not), and the style of the massed entries differs (see here). Crane’s motive would have been professional pride or a classical preference (massed stage directions serve no essential literary or dramatic purpose), which he indulged even though, as noted above, the copy was prepared in some haste, under conditions which did not allow the scribe to adopt the massed convention completely (Howard-Hill, 1972, p. 131). In response, Wells & Taylor (p. 601) state that as the Folio had been printed [WT in Dec. 1622] long before Herbert saw the new prompt-book [on 19 Aug. 1623], this [Howard-Hill’s explanation] seems unlikely. The original prompt-book might even have been lost as a result of being copied by Crane for the Folio. They also allude to Thorndike’s idea that the dance of satyrs at 2164 was taken from Jonson’s Oberon (see n. 2164): The passage introducing this dance could be omitted without disturbing the dialogue; no one comments upon the dance afterwards; moreover, the Clown’s comment that My Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke [2134–5] would be naturally followed, after the exit of Autolycus and his clients, by Polixenes’ O Father, you’l know more of that heereafter [2165], which indicates that they have been carrying on a conversation which we have not heard. Polixenes’ comment is not nearly so natural after the satyr dance, since it suggests that he had been talking to the Old Shepherd rather than attending to the dance he had himself insisted upon witnessing [2156–7]. There is no reason to doubt Shakespeare’s authorship of the passage introducing the dance, but it could be a late addition; if so, Crane was copying a prompt-book, and the original composition was earlier than January 1611. (see here.) Regarding the supposed unnaturalness of 2165, however, not one of the acting editions collated for this edition cuts it (see here). Since there are no other traces of Crane’s having copied WT’s promptbook, the apparent anomaly probably arises from an aberration in foul papers, toward which the clothing crux may also point (see n. 2557–8 and here).

The foul papers of one of Sh.’s compositions—147 lines of Sir Thomas More, a play of uncertain date originally by Anthony Munday and Henry Chettle—may have survived. Having been heavily censored by the Master of the Revels for political reasons, the play was parceled out to several playwrights for salvage. The 147 lines are indeed foul—punctuation lacking, SDs absent or incomplete, SPs mistaken or vague, words omitted, and verse mislined—but they have perhaps created too strong an impression of Sh.’s scribal carelessness. It may be true that Jaggard’s initial editorial policy called for scribal transcripts to be given to the printer if quartos were not available (Eccles, ed. MM, 1980, p. 293). Nevertheless, recent critical opinion, as represented by Wells & Taylor (pp. 145–7), is that foul papers more or less certainly were the initial printer’s copy for as many as 17 of the 35 plays included in F1. If this opinion is correct, the foul papers of WT could have served as Crane’s copy as well.

Crane’s Reliability

In about 1625, Crane transcribed Thomas Middleton’s The Witch for a presentation by the author (see Greg, 1941–2). Three of the songs in this transcript are preserved in other versions. In 1625, Crane made a private transcript of Fletcher’s Demetrius and Enanthe, or the Humorous Lieutenant, which may be compared with the independent text of the play published in the Beaumont and Fletcher folio of 1647, a version representing the play as cut for production (see Cyrus Hoy, ed., in The Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon, 5:293). Nosworthy (1965, p. 221), having examined these sources, concludes: It is clear that Crane, though an elegant scribe, was at times an extraordinarily perfunctory one. Carelessness, combined with strange orthography, occasionally results in misreadings which would have baffled any compositor. . . . That he was, like many another scribe, occasionally guilty of sins of omission is a ready inference. . . . [Sh.] Folio texts based on Crane transcripts must obviously be viewed with suspicion. He was doubtless responsible for the sprinkling of apparent nonce-words which defy emendation, and there are often grounds for suspecting small omissions. Howard-Hill (1972, p. 133) differs, however: Even when he [Crane] may be suspected of error, the reading of his transcript is at the least plausible. If his sophistication of the texts he transcribed had been less, more could be discovered of the nature of his copy. The goodness of . . . WT means little more than that the printer’s copy was free from obvious error. The general level of Crane’s accuracy was high, but he was not reluctant to interfere with his text, consciously or unconsciously, when its meaning was obscure to him. That the F1 text of WT is not considered word-perfect is evident from the long history of its emendation recorded in this edition’s textual notes; for a contrast of the repairs made by two recent eds., see here below.

The Printer’s Reliability

There is almost no evidence of proofreading. As Pafford (1961, p. 178 n.) notes, Some copies of F1 may have a Bears. [at 1500], but apparently in most it is a Beare. This possible press variant is not mentioned in his ed. 1963, however. Hinman (1:264) reports that page number 281 (sig. Aa3) is 285 in one copy (Folger 24) and that in about a third of the more than fifty copies he collated, a mark appears between the first e and the long s of these in 1880. One cannot be at all exact in judging the accuracy of the compositors, for their errors may have been corrected in an earlier stage of proof than the one that has survived, or they may have faithfully transmitted incorrect readings introduced by Crane. Nevertheless, it is interesting to observe that in a conservatively edited version of the play and a more radically edited version, the rate of error is similar. Evans (ed. 1974) makes twenty substantive emendations:

The Oxford editors (1986) emend in nineteen of these instances (2818–19 excepted) and nineteen more:

Compositor A set 2,046 lines, or 61% of the text; Compositor B, 1,323 lines, or 39%. In Evans’s judgment, 55% of the play’s substantive errors are found in A’s work; in the Oxford editors’, 57%. Compositor A may thus seem to have performed slightly more reliably than B in typesetting WT, but this estimate takes no account of errors made by Crane or resident in the MS he copied.

Subsequent Early Editions

The later history of WT in the 17th c. is told primarily by the entries in the Stationers’ Register, quoted and annotated by Greg (1957, 3:1113–21). After the publication of F1, Isaac Jaggard’s widow transferred her parte in Shackspheere playes to Thomas and Richard Cotes on 19(?) June 1627, and on 16 Nov. 1630 Edward Blount transferred his right to sixteen plays, including WT, to Robert Allot. The publication of F2 (1632) ensued; the work was printed by Thomas Cotes for Allot and four other stationers. This edition was twice reissued. Because Allot’s widow was about to marry Philip Chetwind—who was a clothworker rather than a stationer—she was forced to give up her copies (on 7 November 1636; the Stationers’ Register entry is dated 1 July 1637). Chetwind recovered the copyrights, however, and became the publisher of the two issues of F3 (1663–4), in the manufacture of which three printers participated. Yet the Stationers’ Company continued to regard the copyrights as the property of Richard Cotes, and on 6 August 1674 transferred them (including the right to WT) to John Martin and Henry Herringman; these rights were again transferred by Martin’s widow to Robert Scott, on 21 August 1683. F4 followed in 1685, its three sections (Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies) evidently having been printed simultaneously by three printers. Textual changes made in WT in the three derivative folios and in the principal later versions may be found in the notes of this edition. None of these changes has independent textual authority.

Authenticity

That Sh. was not the author of the entirety of WT was casually suggested by Pope (ed. 1725, 1:xx): I make no doubt to declare that those wretched plays [such as Pericles, added to the canon in F3], cannot be admitted as his. And I should conjecture of some of the others, (particularly Love’s Labour Lost, The Winter’s Tale, and Titus Andronicus) that only some characters, single scenes, or perhaps a few particular passages, were of his hand. Robertson (1930, pp. 133–4), a more dedicated disintegrator, also finds WT unworthy. Time’s prologue (lines 1579–1611) has quite an un-Shakespearean aspect. The I mentioned [1601], further, implies a previous prologue, which has been dropped. Perhaps the clearest ground for suspecting a non-Shakespearean hand is the rhyming of after with daughter, a thing unexampled in Shakespeare’s serious work, but emphatically of a kind of perverse rhyming much affected by Chapman. (For the rhyme, see n. 1606–7.) The chief æsthetic difficulty of the play, Leontes’s sudden jealousy, is not like [134] Shakespeare. . . . It would be a more satisfying solution if . . . the unnaturally rapid action had been imposed by a previous constructor, of whom we seem to find plain traces.

The critical problems Robertson discovers have concerned others (see n. 181–92 for Leontes’s jealousy, for example), but no one else attributes the apparent disparities to a previous constructor. WT is generally regarded as authentically Sh.’s. Some critics who accept this opinion believe, nevertheless, that the play as it stands is a revision of a version in which Hermione really dies. See, for example, Craig (Revisions, 1931, pp. 347–8) and, for a more recent expression of the idea, Mueller (1971).

The 1623 Version of The Winter’s Tale

The printing of the First Folio (1623), in which WT was originally published, has been analyzed by Willoughby (1932), by Shroeder (1956), and, most thoroughly and expertly, by Hinman (1963), on whose work much of this account is based. On 8 November 1623, close to the publication date of Mr. William Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies, sixteen of the plays were entered in the Stationers’ Register to Edward Blount and Isaac Jaggard (Arber, 1875–94, 4:69). Blount, a publisher and bookseller, was the leading member of the syndicate sponsoring publication of the First Folio. Isaac Jaggard, a printer, publisher, and bookseller, had replaced his late father, William, as a principal member of the syndicate. Wilson (1925) believes that because of William’s blindness and failing health in 1622–3, Isaac was the chief overseer of the printing of the collection. The entry covers soe manie of the said Copies as are not formerly entred to other men and lists, according to their order in the Folio, eight comedies, two histories, and six tragedies.

WT is the last of the comedies named in the entry; it is also the last play in the first section of F1 (the Comedies), where it occupies sigs. Aa1–Cc2 (pages 277–303); gathering Cc is a single sheet. The play is preceded by AWW (sigs. V1v–Y1v) and TN (Y2–Z6). The text of WT, which concludes in the top third of Cc2, is followed by The Names of the Actors. Sixteen characters are identified by name, and Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants. Shepheards, and Shephearddesses covers the rest (3370–88). Among the Comedies, the first, second, and fourth plays—Tmp., TGV, and MM—are equipped with similar dramatis personae, and all were probably typeset from manuscripts in the hand of the scribe Ralph Crane, of whom more below. He may have compiled these lists, although Eccles (ed. MM, 1980, p. 3, n. 2940) points out that in the case of a work by Webster, Crane is more likely to have copied than to have originated the list printed in [The Duchess of Malfi] in 1623 [from another Crane transcript], since it names . . . actors . . . who had died in 1614, and . . . in 1619. Wiv., the third play in the Comedies section and probably another Crane copy, lacks space for such a list.

Beneath The Names of the Actors in WT is the satyr tailpiece, in which a small defect acquired during the course of the F1 printing shows that the last page of Jn. (b5v) was printed before the last page of TN (Z6) and the last page of WT (Hinman, 1:179–80). Sig. Cc2v is blank. Since the play following WT in the Folio is Jn., the first of the history plays, the blank may seem to have been left so that the Histories section of the book could begin on a recto. This nicety, however, was actually compelled by the fact that Jn. and part of R2, which follows Jn., had been printed before the typesetting of WT began (Hinman, 1:37). It is more extraordinary that the first page of WT is preceded by blank Z6v. Hunter (1845, 1:417) suggests that there was some danger of losing this play. In the folio collection there is a blank page following Twelfth Night, as if there the collection of comedies ended, and the histories were about to begin: and my copy of the first folio actually wants the Winter’s Tale. Pollard (1909, p. 135) thought there had been simply a miscalculation of the space required for TN, but the anomaly seems to arise from another and more complicated cause.

As Hinman (2:521) explains—repeating to some extent the conclusions of Willoughby (1932, pp. 34–43)—when AWW was nearly completed, Compositor B, who had been working alone on that play, skipped to the Histories. With Compositor C he set all of Jn., which begins at sig. a1, and then two pages of R2, b6–6v. B at that point returned to the Comedies. By himself he finished AWW and TN, which concluded on Z6. He then set two more pages of R2 and, after an interruption for work on another book, with Compositor A set ten more pages of R2 and proceeded to WT. The blank Z6v is thus a legacy of the excursions from the Comedies into the Histories and back again, sheet Z having been printed before copy for WT was available. (Shroeder, p. 42, notices another minor consequence: In the first sheet of Jn. to be printed, sig. a3 is designated Aa3, in the style of the signature alphabet to be used later for WT.) Hinman continues: For some reason the copy for Twelfth Night was not readily available when quire X was finished (though it evidently became so soon afterward), and . . . the copy for The Winter’s Tale was in like manner unavailable when quire Z was finished (though on this occasion the want was made good even more quickly than before). . . . No difficulty over copyright can be supposed—only some short-lived trouble over the copy itself. He thus puts to rest several earlier speculations, such as that of White (ed. 1857, 5:275): It is possible that in gathering the plays together Heminge and Condell forgot this one [WT] until the folio was nearly in type; but it is more probable that, finding it no more tragical [i.e., less so] in its course or its catastrophe than Cymbeline, they first intended to class it with the Tragedies [as Cym. is], and after it was ready to be struck off restored it to its proper place among the Comedies. Equally groundless is the explanation of Furness (ed. 1898, p. vii) that inasmuch as the sheets were printed off . . . at different presses [he seems to be referring, incorrectly, to printing houses], it was undoubtedly easier to leave a whole page blank at the end of a signature than to transfer a single page of The Winter’s Tale to the press that was striking off Twelfth Night.

According to Hinman (2:496–503), the formes of quires Aa through Cc were set by Compositors A and B in the following sequence:

A B A B A A A A A A A B B B B A B A B A B A B A A - A B
Aa3v: 4 Aa3: 4v Aa2v: 5 Aa2: 5v Aa1v: 6 Aa1: 6v Bb3v: 4 Bb3: 4v Bb2v: 5 Bb2: 5v Bb1v: 6 Bb1: 6v Cc1: 2v Cc1v: 2
His compositor attributions agree with the earlier allocation by Pafford (1961, p. 173) and the later allocation by Wells & Taylor (1987, p. 150). For Howard-Hill (1973, pp. 84–7), however, it is uncertain that the A of the early comedies and the A of WT and the histories [are] the same compositor. . . . The compositor of WT prefers indeed, mistresse, [and in elisions] x’th, and x’le whereas in A’s pages of Tmp., TGV, Wiv., MM and MV the corresponding preferences are indeede, mistris, x’th/xth, and x’ll. Howard-Hill also finds (p. 85) that, with respect to chuse (two instances in WT) / choose (0), deare (2) / deere (2), deuil(l) (2) / diuell (0), graunt (1) / grant (0), grief(ue) (8) / greef (ue) (0), Heauen (11) / heauen (0), howre (0) / houre (1), indeed (10) / indeede (0), mistresse (7) / mistris (2), scarce (1) / scarse (0), suddaine (1) / sodaine (0), yeere (7) / yeare (0), and young (8) / yong (0), Compositor A of R2 and WT preferred the first form and Compositor A of the earlier Comedies the second. As the figures indicate, though, not all of these preferences are expressed powerfully or even at all in WT alone.

Howard-Hill explains his differentiation between the two Compositors A (pp. 86–7): Whereas the comedies compositor would quite often space a fair number of internal commas, occasionally more than were left without spaces, the practice of the [87] histories A is much more pronounced and never, in the plays . . . examined, is there a greater number of spaced commas to unspaced commas. . . . Also, before WT, the compositor A [of the Comedies] was indifferent to whether he set the first word of the speech together with the speech-prefix in a catchword, or the speech-prefix alone, but in the histories his invariable practice was to supply the first word of the dialogue with which the next page started. In WT, catchwords consisting of speech prefix and a word of dialogue are found on Aa3, Aa5v, Bb5v, and Cc1, all attributed to A, whereas abbreviated speech prefixes only are found on Aa4, Bb1v, Bb2, and Bb2v, all attributed to B. The Compositor A of WT thus appears to be the Compositor A of the Histories, not the Compositor A of the earlier Comedies. The latter was designated F by Howard-Hill (1973, p. 87). But Werstine (1984, p. 92), noticing that in the text assigned to Compositor F, portions of prose speeches that mark a change of address or of topic may be given a new line, a characteristic of Compositor D, wonders whether any distinction can be made between the two workmen. (The subject awaits further investigation.) Moreover, the validity of spacing as a compositorial discriminant has been questioned by McKenzie (1984). He found that its apparent testimony in early books printed at the Cambridge University Press does not accord with the work records kept.

The signatures of WT translate into line numbers as follows:

And they translate into sequentially ordered signatures and line numbers as follows:

About the order of composition there is little different from the regular procedure for typesetting F1. The manuscript text would be cast off—that is, before typesetting began, the words of the manuscript would be allotted to specific type pages—so that the two compositors could work more or less simultaneously. Both started with the innermost forme; and then one of them usually worked backward through the page sequence of each quire and the other forward. Since much of the text is regular verse, its casting off amounted to little more than counting the number of verse lines needed to fill the two columns of each page. Even on pages largely of prose (e.g., Bb1–2), white lines left above and below stage directions and scene heads permitted expansion or contraction, so that the typeset words could be fitted into the estimated space. Nothing shows what B did while A set Aa1v–2v, 5v–6 by himself.

The few irregularities are minor. On Aa1, the first page of the play but the last of the Aa gathering set by Compositor A, the white space preceding and following Scœna Secunda, near the foot of column a, is reduced, to allow plenty of room for the ornament, head title, and initial entrance direction at the top of the page and to avoid having the scene head or the initial SD stand alone at the foot of the column. At 467 (Aa2vb), perhaps to gain a couple of lines, an entrance direction, rather than being centered, is set on the same line as the conclusion of a speech—or, if the direction had been overlooked earlier, it could have been inserted there after the column was in type. SDs similarly placed are found at 2005 (Compositor B) and at 3029 (Compositor A). On Bb3a there are about two lines of white space above and below Autolycus’s song (2044–55), but on Bb3b his second song in the scene (2139–44) is crowded into the text: A one-line speech has been run into the concluding line of another speech (2138); the logotype yt is used (2146, its only appearance in WT, although ye is found at 1672); and probably line 2080 has been moved from the head of column b to the foot of column a, where it now occupies the direction line, normally blank in column a. Lines 2145–6 may have been reset. Pafford (1961, p. 173) suspects some mistake in the casting off or else some later insertion, perhaps the song. The latter seems likely, and if the song was overlooked, it may have been written on a piece of paper not a part of the main MS. Pafford suggests, too, that the typesetting of Bb3 was done by Compositor E, supposed to be an apprentice, but Hinman and Howard-Hill disagree. Pafford’s opinion, however, is shared by Cairncross (1972, p. 382).

Harrison (1948, p. 242) argues that in his later plays not only did Shakespeare abandon blank verse in conversation, but in the longer speeches he often substituted for the normal pattern of five feet . . . a much freer short line verse. This opinion is reiterated by Bertram (1981), who urges modern editors to forgo relining as iambic pentameter the apparently irregular verse of the early eds. In doing so, he says, they obscure Sh.’s rhetorical instructions to the actors, instructions that are embodied in the lineation of the early texts. Werstine (1984), investigating whether the line division in the Folio is Sh.’s or the F compositors’, finds that in the late plays, including WT, departures from iambic pentameter are usually caused by the compositors’ need to create or waste space to make cast-off copy fit its typographical allocation. The irregular lineation has nothing to do with rhetorical instructions.

The F1 Copy

According to Greg (1957, 3:1111), There is external evidence of trouble over the copy for this play [WT], for on 19 Aug. 1623 the Master of the Revels relicensed the piece since the allowed booke was missing[e] [see here], though by that time the play must have been already printed. And it probably was; Hinman (1:357) believes that the work on quires c and Aa–Cc may well have taken place in December 1622. (Earlier scholarship, summarized by Greg, 1955, p. 461, arrived at nearly the same date, late November.) Even though the manuscript of WT bearing the original license had been lost, however, at least one other copy existed to provide a basis both for the production with which the Master of the Revels, Sir Henry Herbert, was concerned and for F1 printer’s copy. Willoughby (in J. D. Wilson, ed. 1931, p. 113 n.) suggests that what Herbert actually saw was the printed sheets of WT. This is possible, of course; as Greg (1955, p. 417 n.) points out, though, they would have needed a lot of editing [presumably the addition of bookkeeper’s notes for control of the performance and perhaps the cutting of dialogue] and have provided very little room for it. Knowles (privately) suggests that the company may have retrieved from Jaggard the Crane transcript. That is also a possibility. Manuscript returned by modern letterpress printers may be too marked up and inky for theatrical use, but the copy for the 1591 English translation of Orlando Furioso, as described by Greg (1924), is quite neat. In that case, however, it may have made a difference that the manuscript was being received by Sir John Harington, the translator. Because the F1 text has no theatrical stigmata, there is no support for the opinion, voiced by Lee (1902, p. xxvi), that after being represented on the stage, the MS version of the play licensed by Herbert was sent to press.

In his TGV, Wilson (ed. 1921, p. 78) had argued that the copy for The Two Gentlemen was made up by stringing together players’ parts and arranging them in acts and scenes by the aid of a plot. A plot in this sense was an outline of the action of a play, recording entrances and exits, properties, noises, and other details of performance of which the prompter wanted to be reminded (for further information, see Greg, 1922). Wilson’s idea was quickly adapted to WT. Because, in his opinion, WT has no stage-directions, or very few, Rhodes (1922, pp. 59–60) asserts that the text cannot have been set up by the printer from the prompt-book. It was, instead, (p. 60) assembled from the players’ parts, complete with cue, dialogue, and certain directions, and . . . a detailed extract from the stage-directions to serve as his [the prompter’s] remembrancer—that is, the plot. The plot would furnish a guide for sorting the players’ parts and keeping them in order whilst pasting them together into one continuous text, which would, however, inevitably lack many directions. Rhodes finds that WT bears all the stigmata of an assembled text. The entrances of the players are not, as usual, distributed in the places where they are due to appear, but each scene is headed by a list of characters. . . . In all the five acts there are not more than a dozen incidental entrances and exits, and those are mostly of minor characters.

The same idea is expressed more fully by Rhodes (1923, pp. 98–100), and, after it receives favorable mention by Pollard (1923, p. 8), is reiterated by J. D. Wilson (1924, pp. 72–6). This view, reflecting Johnson’s (1756; 1968, 7:52) opinion that Sh.’s plays were printed . . . from compilations made by chance or by stealth out of the separate parts written for the theatre, was obviously influenced by TGV’s and WT’s massed entries (that is, the lists at the head of a scene not only of the characters who appear at its beginning but also of those who enter later). WT has massed entries at 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 3.2, 3.3, 4.4, 5.1, and 5.3. The characters are listed according to social rank or importance in the drama in 2.1 (in two groups) and 5.3 but in the approximate order of their speaking in 2.2, 2.3, 3.2, 3.3, and 4.4. In 5.1, those present at the beginning are in order of rank; Florizel and Perdita, named last, enter later. Plays in the Ben Jonson folio (1616) also have massed entries, as do the quartos from which the folio texts derive. In Webster’s Duchess of Malfi (1623), according to Bald (1931–2, pp. 244–6), occasionally a character named in a massed entry fails to appear in the scene; and Greg (1931–2) reports that in Massinger’s autograph MS of Believe as you List, a massed entry includes characters who enter later. In these instances, players’ parts cannot have been involved unless, as in the case of BAYL, the point of entry was specified in another direction or could be deduced from another feature of the text. In any event, parts do not seem to have been involved in WT.

Although it was endorsed by J. D. Wilson in his 1931 ed. of WT (p. 122), the theory of assembled texts was to collapse under its impracticalities. (For a history of its career, see Greg, 1955, pp. 156–8.) Speculation about the fate of WT’s allowed book continued, however. Adams (1917, p. 25, n. 2) guesses that the MS was misplaced by the printer of F1. Such an eventuality would be possible if the allowed book was printer’s copy, for WT probably was printed in December 1622, and the entry in Herbert’s office book was dated 19 Aug. 1623 (see here). In the decade following Adams’s study, though, WT’s textual history began to be understood differently. Greg (1926, p. 154) found that the manuscripts of Fletcher and Massinger’s Barnavelt and Middleton’s The Witch (see here) were in the same handwriting, and F. P. Wilson (1926–7) proved that the hand was that of Ralph Crane, a scrivener associated with the King’s Men, who had signed his name to his transcript of Fletcher’s Demetrius and Enanthe; or, The Humorous Lieutenant (see here). To this signed document, Crane’s other surviving work, some also signed, is linked by distinctive and recurrent stylistic features. Wilson’s attribution of the Folio copy of WT to Crane was attacked unsuccessfuly by Tannenbaum (1933, pp. 75–86), who mistakenly thought the MS was quite possibly Shakespeare’s own manuscript.

F. P. Wilson (1926–7, pp. 211–14) describes some general characteristics of [Crane’s] work. 1. A publisher who came by one of Crane’s transcripts might reasonably expect from the printer an accurate text. . . . 2. All Crane’s transcripts are carefully divided into acts and scenes. . . . [212] 3. Those stage-directions in Barnavelt which are in Crane’s handwriting give little information apart from mere statements of exits and entrances [Fletcher and Massinger’s Barnavelt is preserved in British Library MS Add. 18653; see Fredson Bowers, ed., in The Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon, 8:485–501]. . . . In Crane’s other transcripts the directions never smack of the theatre. . . . [214] Statements of entrances are massed together at the head of each scene. Chambers (1930, 1:488–9) finds that the SDs in WT consist of little more than entries and exits, and the latter are often omitted. The entries are normally given in [4.3] and [5.2], but for the other scenes all the characters taking part, whether they are present from the beginning or not, are grouped in the initial entry. This follows the order of their appearance, and in [2.1, 3.2, 5.1, and 5.3], but not elsewhere, the successively appearing characters or [489] groups of characters are marked off by colons in the stage-directions. Howard-Hill (1972, p. 130) points out that the massed directions with colons were typeset by Compositor A, those without by Compositor B, who was apparently unwilling to print the colons from copy.

The entrance directions are of four types. The first, reflecting English tradition, marks entrances as the characters appear (4.3 and 5.2). The second, reflecting neoclassical tradition, includes some of the massed entries discussed earlier (here). In this type, all the characters appearing in the scene are named in the initial SD, although some actually enter later; their entrances are unmarked (2.1, 2.2, and 3.2; the SD for 3.2 omits Paulina, unless she is included among the Ladies, and the Servant who enters at 1323). The third is neutral: all characters who appear in the scene are present from the beginning (1.1, 1.2, 3.1, 4.1, 4.2, and 5.3). The fourth is hybrid: all who appear in the scene are named in the initial entry but some actually enter later, and their entrance is marked (2.3, 3.3 [except for the Shepherd who enters at 1501], 4.4 [except for the Servant who enters at 2145], and 5.1 [except for the Lord who enters at 2940]). Since the stage directions in all the Shn. texts thought to be printed from foul papers are in the English style and since there is no reason to think that Jaggard would have introduced the neoclassical, Crane must be its source and the source of the inconsistencies as well.

Only a few SDs add anything to the bare entrances and exits: as to her Triall (1174–5), pursued by a Beare (1500), the Chorus (1579), singing (1668 and 2043), Heere a Da(u)nce of (1988 and 2164), and like a Statue (3185). Of these, singing is common, of course. As to is unusual; it occurs in only two other Shn. SDs (Trumpets sound as to a charge [TNK 5.3.55.1]; Enter as to the Parliament [R2 4.1.0.1 (1921)] and there in F only, not in Q). WT’s pursued by is unique in Sh. Like is sometimes preceded by a participle—for example, habited like Shepheards (H8 1.4.63 [753]) or drest like Vincentio (Shr. 4.4.0 [2180])—but more often in Sh. it is not—Enter Ariel like a water-Nymph (Tmp. 1.2.316 [453–4]) and like a Harpey (3.3.52 [1583]), like Gentlemen (MM, DP [2946]), and like himselfe (Tim. 1.2.0 [341]). Similar SDs appear in AYLlike Forresters (2.1.0 [606]) and like Out-lawes (2.7.0 [972]); in Tit.like a Cooke (5.3.25 [2525]); and in Cym.like a poore Souldier (5.2.0.4 [2894]). These texts were printed from a variety of sources, according to Wells & Taylor (pp. 145–7), who represent a recent, although not universally shared, opinion: Tmp. from a Crane transcript possibly of foul papers, MM from a Crane transcript of what we now call a promptbook, Tim. from foul papers (Middleton’s and Sh.’s), AYL from a transcript or a promptbook, Tit. from foul papers, and Cym. from a transcript probably by Crane, of a manuscript in two hands. The SDs in WT obviously contribute nothing to our knowledge of Crane’s copy.

Punctuation marks, especially parentheses and apostrophes, provide another approach to the study of the F1 version of WT. Thorndike (1934), having assiduously counted the parentheses in the F1 texts thought not to have been printed from quartos, finds the greatest number in WT (369, 2 short of the number given by a later critic—see below, here), 2H4 (259), Wiv. (219), Cym. (158), and TGV (129). The printer’s copy for all but 2H4 is now believed, with more or less conviction, to have been Crane transcripts. Thorndike also notices that TGV, Wiv., and WT have collective entries of the type found in Crane’s (MS Malone 25) transcript of Thomas Middleton’s A Game at Chess. Pafford (1961, pp. 175–7) notes that, in WT, apostrophes mark—in addition to omitted vowels (as in ’d preterits)—parts of words (cam’t for came it, le’t for let it) and entire words before exclamations or appeals (’Beseech you) or in the middle of a phrase (Who taught ’this). The apostrophe is also used where apparently nothing has been dropped. . . . E.g., has—the verb, not a contraction of he has—is usually printed ha’s. . . . [176] The apostrophe was sometimes perhaps used vaguely, to indicate that writer or compositor realized that a word was abbreviated but did not know how to show it; e.g. Gillyvors, presumably for gillyflowers . . . is first spelt Gilly-vors [line 1890] and then Gilly’vors [1910]. In contrast there are cases where something is dropped but no apostrophe used. Instances include Ile (73, 95, 97, 121, etc.), th for the (1408, 1450, 2375), tane (1730), ha (1743), and fore (2221). Howard-Hill (1972, p. 129) also finds many possessive singulars of nouns with apostrophes after vowels [e.g., Camillo’s (792), Cytherea’s (1936)], it’s with the apostrophe [for its—e.g., 231, 236, 357, 1488], it for the possessive [e.g., 1110, 1279]. To the suggestion by Pafford (p. 176) that the colons punctuating many SDs might be traceable to Edward Knight, at one time bookkeeper to the King’s Men, Howard-Hill (1966) objects that Crane’s MS Malone 25 uses colons in massed entries to separate characters who enter later from those with whom the scene begins, whereas Knight did not use colons for this purpose.

The fundamental study of Crane’s work is Howard-Hill (1972), which superseded such earlier studies as that of Somer (1962). A summary of Howard-Hill’s and other research on Crane is provided by Haas (1989). Eight of Crane’s dramatic manuscripts survive, three being of Middleton’s A Game at Chess. Three additional MS copies of this play, one in Middleton’s hand, also exist, and comparison of Crane’s versions with Middleton’s affords an unusual opportunity to isolate many details attributable to the scribe rather than to the copy from which he worked. Eight nondramatic transcripts in Crane’s hand have also survived, and comparison of these and the dramatic transcripts permits more characteristics of Crane’s work to be identified. Those evident in WT include The Names of the Actors (3370–88) and the massed entrances mentioned above; division of the text into acts and scenes; descriptive stage directions (see here); some characteristic spellings (the very common ’em; see below for many more); the Jonsonian elision at 109 (Verely’is); numerous hyphens linking, for example, prepositions and objects, prefixes and stems, adverbs and adjectives, adjectives and substantives, and stems and suffixes (6, 17, 24, 30, 50, 73, 79, etc.); and, according to Howard-Hill (p. 82), huge quantities of colons and parentheses, 839 of the former and 371 of the latter. He points out (p. 87) that of the possible situations where parentheses [to enclose vocatives] could have been used, 39% of the vocatives in WT have them. Wells & Taylor (p. 601) add parentheses to mark passages spoken aside at 2516–17 and 2520. Crane may not be entirely responsible for the text’s numerous hyphens, however; McKenzie (1959, p. 81) finds that in setting MV Q2 (1619), Compositor B hyphenated such words as bed-fellow and me-thinks 25 times and deleted the hyphen in his copy only 9 times. (While John F. Andrews found that me-thinks was hyphenated only by Compositor B’s fellow-workman on MV [1619] and the other Pavier quartos [The Pavier Quartos of 1619—Evidence for Two Compositors (Vanderbilt diss., 1970)], nonetheless it remains true that Compositor B did introduce hyphens into many words he set in these quartos. There is reason to doubt, however, that Compositor B worked on the Pavier quartos: see R. Knowles, SB 35 [1982], 202.)

A great many of Crane’s characteristic spellings appear in WT, although, as one might expect, there are some exceptions. Howard-Hill’s summary (pp. 64–8) includes, but is not limited to, the following:

  • -ei-, never -ie- (all such spellings in WT accord with modern convention—e.g., perceiue [263] and Heire [1315])
  • -lly, never -ly (the same—e.g., naturally [2595])
  • -ing, never -eing (the same—e.g., mouing [431])
  • -nck (e.g., prancks [2583] and wrinckled [3217], although these are far outnumbered by such -nk forms as ranke [369] and Winke [414])
  • -ll, never -l (Royall [28], wooll [1703], but wil [453] and shal [1304], both full lines)
  • -s, never -es, for plurals of nouns with short vowels (e.g., Gifts [31], things [2939])
  • -es, never -s, for plurals of nouns ending in -th/sh/ch (Oathes [85], blushes [1872], Wenches [2136])
  • -ings, never inges, for words ending in -ing (Fadings [2020] but singes [2008], a full line; the spelling is not found elsewhere)
  • -s or -sse, never -ss (e.g., killes [1750], Presse [74], kisse [3284], but also Princess [2832])
  • b is not doubled before -’d or -ed (e.g., rob’d [past tense of rob; 1729], but crabbed [173]); it is doubled before -ing after short vowels (e.g., stabbing [2607])
  • d is not doubled before -s or -es (but toddes [1701], Goddes [1826], addes [1902], oddes [2976]), before -ing (but bidding [733, 1100, and 1143]); or before -er (e.g., hinder [79])
  • g is not doubled before -ing, -er, -es, but is probably doubled after an unvoiced short vowel (e.g., Egges [206], Dagger [235], pugging [1675])
  • Doubled consonants are retained before -ed, but one -l may be dropped before -d (e.g., crabbed [173], spotted [427], Added [793], muzzel’d [235], and Il’d [462]). An exception to the doubling of l before -ed is (vn)setled (this word only) (224, 424, 1767, 2385, and 3272)
  • m is doubled medially only after short vowels (e.g., (be)comming [8 and 1464], Commission [97], and command [1665]) but not before -es or -s (e.g., lames [3066] and redeemes [3311], plurals in which the vowels are long)
  • n is doubled medially after short vowels (e.g., Sonne(s) [46 and 3136], manner [3093], and winners [3344]) but not after long vowels or before -s (e.g., finer [312] and begins [469])
  • p is generally not doubled medially, but there are exceptions (e.g., Coppy [197], slipperie [365], Lippe [479], Appollo’s [801])
  • r is doubled after short vowels (e.g., Starre [50], morrow [61], and Iarre [100])
  • s is doubled after short vowels (e.g., Hostesse [121], Kisse [165 and 3284], and Glasse [402])
  • t is doubled after short vowels and before -ing (e.g., pitty [670] and committing [1189])
  • w is always single
  • z is always single (reversed in WT: muzzel’d [235] and Chizzell [3279]).

Other Crane preferences are for w in such words as sowr’d (173), Lowt (397), scowre (631), lowd’st (865), Perswades (868), powre (927 and 1586), and howre (1587); for internal a in roab’d (1830), Coarse (1944, 1946), poaking (2052), and coap’st (2267); for -que in Basilisque (496), publique (815), and Heretique (1042); for internal -y- in prayse (18), trayn’d (25), and tyre (66); for blood (20 times; no other spelling occurs). He was elsewhere indifferent to the termination ance/aunce, but in WT aunce is found only in daunce(s) (183 and 1988), whereas dance occurs eight times, once at 1991—two lines from Daunce. Among spellings preferred by Crane and not likely to have been altered to justify lines of type, Howard-Hill (pp. 100–2) lists, for WT, Councels (326; plural noun), Physick (282), powrefull (284, 622), and wayting (163).

Those that also may signify Crane are councell (singular nouns: 2777, 2786), extreames (1804), flowre(s) (1879, 1886, 1889, 1916, 1919, 1927, 1931, 1941), graunt (187, 2994; but also grant [1616]), howre (1587), moneth(s) (98, 173, 2089, 2871, 2998), powr’d (2172), and publique (815). And to these Howard-Hill adds (pp. 171–2) Crane spellings adopted by Compositor B against his preference: Angell (2034), answere (2023), approach (1465, 1857, 2036), choice (2137, 2257), daylie (1434 as dayly), deed (797, 1571), extreames (1804), forth (837, 979, 1606), happie (2178), howre (1587), mightie (921, 1725), moneth (2089), need (1722, 2256; neede, 6 times), old (1860, 2089, 2179, 2263, 3328, 3345; olde, twice), powre (927, 1586, 1839), son (1638, 3363; sonne, 39 times), sun (1717, 1918), wee’ll (2135; wee’l 5 times), yeere(s) (1585, 1617, 1671; yeare(s) [1399, 1887]).

Spellings in Crane’s transcripts that Eccles (ed. MM, 1980) discovered in MM also appear in WT: beleeue (12 times), Coyne (2607), deere (10 times; deare 11 times), (vn)easie (118, 1661, 2662, 3298), medler (2143), meere (901, 1322, 1326), mistris (6 times; mistresse, 7 times), neere (8 times), peece (11 times; pieces once), practise/practis’d (189, 1352), sence (8 times), thether (1662, 2125; thither, 3 times), vertue (7 times), and yong (5 times; young, 9 times). Of all these spellings, Kable (1968, pp. 157–9) found extreames (1804), howre (1587), and moneth (2089) to be contrary to Compositor B’s preference, hence his copy spellings. Kable’s opinion, however, is compromised by R. Knowles’s finding that the work was not Compositor B’s (see here).

The two plays also display some similarities in punctuation. In WT as in MM, colons are preferred to semicolons, although more strongly (1 per 29 words, as opposed to 1 per 140 in MM). The exclamation point does not appear. Sometimes the question mark is exclamatory (at 265, for example), but in many instances its exclamatory function cannot be distinguished clearly from its interrogative one. One difference from MM and the transcripts is that the suffix is nearly always -nesse in WT; only one -nes is found, in 1663, a full line.

Howard-Hill (pp. 66–8) separately categorizes Crane’s spellings of words that have been used to identify the stints of Jaggard’s compositors. His tabulation may be compared with the occurrence of the spellings in WT (see table). Ignoring counts

Crane TranscriptsWT AWT B
no.%no.%no.%
ancient321375
auncient1179125
been015520
beene01448450
ben55
bin1450
byn10895
blood (only)89164
dear(e)351077112
deer(e)5395323788
do359233595
doe34590619725
doo21
n/either511003759100
n/eyther125
goe13010024100315
go1785
greef(e)(ue)11123100
greif(ue)4191
grief(ue)37788
heire (only)1052
here2299629100211
heere941789
here’s481002100686
heeres0114
houre128100150
howre6198150
Ile39143310032100
I’ll24786
indeed4610011100240
indeede360
mistris22851135100
mistresse312787
mistrisse13
note (only)2783
o672717521560
oh1797316481040
shew1113111004100
show7187
traitor17891343100
traytor211266
yeare3041240
yeere43597100360
yong47985100
young129100
below 3, one finds that Compositor A agrees with Crane in preferring blood, doe, n/either, goe, heire, indeed, and note but disagrees in preferring beene, dear, grief, houre, Ile, mistresse, o, shew, yeere, and young; and that Compositor B agrees in preferring blood, n/either, here’s, traitor, yeere, and yong but disagrees in preferring ancient, beene/bin, do, go, greef, heere, Ile, indeede, mistris, o, and shew. Hinman’s (1:180) observation that the spellings in the First Folio . . . are unquestionably printing-house spellings in the main—the spellings of the compositors who set them into type is confirmed by the saving grace of in the main.

Crane’s Copy

Because Crane exerted such a strong influence on the form of the texts he transcribed, it is not surprising that critics find it difficult to penetrate his version of WT as it is represented in F1. Greg (1955, pp. 416–17) believes that WT was late reaching the printer only because of the time required to make for Jaggard a transcript of the foul papers, an opinion with which Evans (ed. 1974, p. 1604) agrees. Howard-Hill (1965, p. 340), having protested against too facile an acceptance of numerous parentheses as indicative of Crane’s transcription, suggests, nevertheless, that the number in WT may indicate that the play was printed from a Crane transcript of his own earlier transcript, an idea developed further by Howard-Hill a year later (1966, p. 140). When, according to Howard-Hill, copy was being gathered for the Folio, Crane was given foul papers for Winter’s Tale with instructions to prepare also the promptbook for playhouse use. Crane prepared the promptbook first before making the transcript for the printer for by so doing he would release the foul papers in the shortest possible time to return to the security of the players’ collection of manuscripts. Had he prepared the Folio copy before the promptbook, we should not have the clean and sophisticated text, showing an unusually large number of parentheses, that we find in the Folio. On the same evidence, Crane apparently retained the promptbook, but probably returned the foul papers, so that he would avoid having to make both transcripts from foul papers. . . . He chose, therefore, to delay delivery of the Folio copy, perhaps thinking, or indeed knowing, that the printers had enough to go on with. [Howard-Hill (1992, p. 128) conjectures that the delay arose from Crane’s occupation with his transcript of Webster’s Duchess of Malfi.] From this order of events, we get a good, clean, literary text, with an unusually high number of parentheses consistent with other Crane transcripts from his own earlier papers, and, of course, a delay which affected the printing of Winter’s Tale in the First Folio. In his major work on Crane, Howard-Hill (1972, p. 131) adds, The massed entries [appearing in F1 and deriving from the printer’s copy] would have been out of place in a copy made for a promptbook but [they] easily could have been compiled from a transcript with conventional entries. Why he [Crane] should choose massed entries when he had a clean manuscript available is not readily explained, but the variety of the directions argues that the copy was prepared in some haste, under conditions which did not allow the scribe to adopt the massed convention completely.

The idea that the WT copy was a transcript of a transcript had appeared earlier in Howard-Hill (1965, pp. 337–8). The number of WT’s parentheses (371, 268), the article indicates, is substantially greater than that in the other Folio Comedies believed to have been set from Crane manuscripts—Tmp. 98 (115), TGV 128 (150), Wiv. 218 (241), and MM 75 (78); the first figure is the actual incidence and the second, the actual adjusted for the length of the plays. Since the Folio compositors did not have an identical fondness for parentheses, the figures adjusted for length become, when further adjusted to allow for Compositor A’s preference, Tmp. 116, TGV 131, Wiv. 308, and MM 62, in contrast to WT’s 415. Moreover, Crane’s several transcripts of A Game at Chess indicate that every time Crane recopied a text, he tended to reproduce the parentheses of his copy, but added to them, and . . . added more parentheses when he was transcribing from his own copy (p. 336). The WT transcript, Howard-Hill (1972, p. 70) observes, must have been made after any other transcripts he made for the Folio. Therefore the scribe’s habits would have been influenced both by the character of the copy before him, and by his increasing familiarity with the kind of material he had to work from.

A question about this theory arises from the massed entries. If they were undesirable in a promptbook, as Howard-Hill says, and if the WT promptbook was created before the printer’s copy, would Crane, having copied in the first transcript the entrances where the play’s action required them, have then taken the trouble to extract and compile these entries for each of the play’s eight scenes they head? The compilation is incomplete, moreover (4.3 and 5.2, which might have been massed, are not), and the style of the massed entries differs (see here). Crane’s motive would have been professional pride or a classical preference (massed stage directions serve no essential literary or dramatic purpose), which he indulged even though, as noted above, the copy was prepared in some haste, under conditions which did not allow the scribe to adopt the massed convention completely (Howard-Hill, 1972, p. 131). In response, Wells & Taylor (p. 601) state that as the Folio had been printed [WT in Dec. 1622] long before Herbert saw the new prompt-book [on 19 Aug. 1623], this [Howard-Hill’s explanation] seems unlikely. The original prompt-book might even have been lost as a result of being copied by Crane for the Folio. They also allude to Thorndike’s idea that the dance of satyrs at 2164 was taken from Jonson’s Oberon (see n. 2164): The passage introducing this dance could be omitted without disturbing the dialogue; no one comments upon the dance afterwards; moreover, the Clown’s comment that My Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke [2134–5] would be naturally followed, after the exit of Autolycus and his clients, by Polixenes’ O Father, you’l know more of that heereafter [2165], which indicates that they have been carrying on a conversation which we have not heard. Polixenes’ comment is not nearly so natural after the satyr dance, since it suggests that he had been talking to the Old Shepherd rather than attending to the dance he had himself insisted upon witnessing [2156–7]. There is no reason to doubt Shakespeare’s authorship of the passage introducing the dance, but it could be a late addition; if so, Crane was copying a prompt-book, and the original composition was earlier than January 1611. (see here.) Regarding the supposed unnaturalness of 2165, however, not one of the acting editions collated for this edition cuts it (see here). Since there are no other traces of Crane’s having copied WT’s promptbook, the apparent anomaly probably arises from an aberration in foul papers, toward which the clothing crux may also point (see n. 2557–8 and here).

The foul papers of one of Sh.’s compositions—147 lines of Sir Thomas More, a play of uncertain date originally by Anthony Munday and Henry Chettle—may have survived. Having been heavily censored by the Master of the Revels for political reasons, the play was parceled out to several playwrights for salvage. The 147 lines are indeed foul—punctuation lacking, SDs absent or incomplete, SPs mistaken or vague, words omitted, and verse mislined—but they have perhaps created too strong an impression of Sh.’s scribal carelessness. It may be true that Jaggard’s initial editorial policy called for scribal transcripts to be given to the printer if quartos were not available (Eccles, ed. MM, 1980, p. 293). Nevertheless, recent critical opinion, as represented by Wells & Taylor (pp. 145–7), is that foul papers more or less certainly were the initial printer’s copy for as many as 17 of the 35 plays included in F1. If this opinion is correct, the foul papers of WT could have served as Crane’s copy as well.

Crane’s Reliability

In about 1625, Crane transcribed Thomas Middleton’s The Witch for a presentation by the author (see Greg, 1941–2). Three of the songs in this transcript are preserved in other versions. In 1625, Crane made a private transcript of Fletcher’s Demetrius and Enanthe, or the Humorous Lieutenant, which may be compared with the independent text of the play published in the Beaumont and Fletcher folio of 1647, a version representing the play as cut for production (see Cyrus Hoy, ed., in The Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon, 5:293). Nosworthy (1965, p. 221), having examined these sources, concludes: It is clear that Crane, though an elegant scribe, was at times an extraordinarily perfunctory one. Carelessness, combined with strange orthography, occasionally results in misreadings which would have baffled any compositor. . . . That he was, like many another scribe, occasionally guilty of sins of omission is a ready inference. . . . [Sh.] Folio texts based on Crane transcripts must obviously be viewed with suspicion. He was doubtless responsible for the sprinkling of apparent nonce-words which defy emendation, and there are often grounds for suspecting small omissions. Howard-Hill (1972, p. 133) differs, however: Even when he [Crane] may be suspected of error, the reading of his transcript is at the least plausible. If his sophistication of the texts he transcribed had been less, more could be discovered of the nature of his copy. The goodness of . . . WT means little more than that the printer’s copy was free from obvious error. The general level of Crane’s accuracy was high, but he was not reluctant to interfere with his text, consciously or unconsciously, when its meaning was obscure to him. That the F1 text of WT is not considered word-perfect is evident from the long history of its emendation recorded in this edition’s textual notes; for a contrast of the repairs made by two recent eds., see here below.

The Printer’s Reliability

There is almost no evidence of proofreading. As Pafford (1961, p. 178 n.) notes, Some copies of F1 may have a Bears. [at 1500], but apparently in most it is a Beare. This possible press variant is not mentioned in his ed. 1963, however. Hinman (1:264) reports that page number 281 (sig. Aa3) is 285 in one copy (Folger 24) and that in about a third of the more than fifty copies he collated, a mark appears between the first e and the long s of these in 1880. One cannot be at all exact in judging the accuracy of the compositors, for their errors may have been corrected in an earlier stage of proof than the one that has survived, or they may have faithfully transmitted incorrect readings introduced by Crane. Nevertheless, it is interesting to observe that in a conservatively edited version of the play and a more radically edited version, the rate of error is similar. Evans (ed. 1974) makes twenty substantive emendations:

The Oxford editors (1986) emend in nineteen of these instances (2818–19 excepted) and nineteen more:

Compositor A set 2,046 lines, or 61% of the text; Compositor B, 1,323 lines, or 39%. In Evans’s judgment, 55% of the play’s substantive errors are found in A’s work; in the Oxford editors’, 57%. Compositor A may thus seem to have performed slightly more reliably than B in typesetting WT, but this estimate takes no account of errors made by Crane or resident in the MS he copied.

Subsequent Early Editions

The later history of WT in the 17th c. is told primarily by the entries in the Stationers’ Register, quoted and annotated by Greg (1957, 3:1113–21). After the publication of F1, Isaac Jaggard’s widow transferred her parte in Shackspheere playes to Thomas and Richard Cotes on 19(?) June 1627, and on 16 Nov. 1630 Edward Blount transferred his right to sixteen plays, including WT, to Robert Allot. The publication of F2 (1632) ensued; the work was printed by Thomas Cotes for Allot and four other stationers. This edition was twice reissued. Because Allot’s widow was about to marry Philip Chetwind—who was a clothworker rather than a stationer—she was forced to give up her copies (on 7 November 1636; the Stationers’ Register entry is dated 1 July 1637). Chetwind recovered the copyrights, however, and became the publisher of the two issues of F3 (1663–4), in the manufacture of which three printers participated. Yet the Stationers’ Company continued to regard the copyrights as the property of Richard Cotes, and on 6 August 1674 transferred them (including the right to WT) to John Martin and Henry Herringman; these rights were again transferred by Martin’s widow to Robert Scott, on 21 August 1683. F4 followed in 1685, its three sections (Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies) evidently having been printed simultaneously by three printers. Textual changes made in WT in the three derivative folios and in the principal later versions may be found in the notes of this edition. None of these changes has independent textual authority.

The Date of Composition

External Evidence

Early attempts to date WT were influenced by the opinion that so irregular a play must have been the work of an inexperienced playwright and by the entry dated 22 May 1594 in the Stationers’ Register of a booke entituled a Wynters nightes pastime (Arber, 1875–94, 2:650), which was taken to be WT. Ulrici (1839; trans. 1846, p. 269) wrote, for example, that this is probably the same drama as we now have, which, upon its revision, received a name more suited to its altered form. The equation was not unreasonable, for the Accounts of the Revels at Court record a performance by the King’s Men on 5 November 1611 of A play called ye winters nightes Tayle (see Cunningham, 1842, p. 210, and Streitberger, 1986, p. 48); Chambers (1923, 4:125) identifies this later wintry amusement as WT.

Overly imaginative discoveries of allusions also interfered. Walpole (1768, 2:114–16) thought that WT was certainly intended (in compliment to queen Elizabeth) as an indirect apology for her mother Anne Boleyn. . . . [115] The unreasonable jealousy of Leontes, and his violent conduct in consequence, form a true portrait of Henry the Eighth, who generally made the law the engine of his boisterous passions. . . . Several passages . . . touch the real history nearer than the fable. Hermione on her trial says, [For Honor, ’Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine, And onely that I stand for (1217–19)]. This seems to be taken from the very letter of Anne Boleyn to the king before her execution, where she pleads for the infant princess his daughter. Adding several similar details, Walpole concludes (116): The Winter Evening’s Tale was therefore in reality a second part of Henry the Eighth. For the compliment to have point, Queen Elizabeth must have been alive to receive it; hence, in Walpole’s view, WT preceded her demise, in 1603. The letter to which Walpole alludes is found in The Harleian Miscellany (1808, 1:201–2). According to DNB (s.v. Anne), the letter is a manifest fabrication of the time of Queen Elizabeth; nevertheless, it speaks with pathetic dignity of the foul blots on the most dutiful wife and on the infant princess. A modernized text is in Black (1933, pp. 46–7).

Far-fetched notions abound. Capell (1783, 2.4:176) finds several absurd reasons to think that at the time he wrote WT, Sh. had his mind on a country matter, his retirement (e.g., the mention of th’Grange, or Mill at 2126). The play is a writing for Stratford, or a writing at it. Capell dates the play 1613, after H8 and before Tmp. (1614). Ironically, Capell is nearer current opinion than the more judicious Malone (in Steevens, ed. 1778, 1:285). Influenced by the entry of A Winter Night’s Pastime, which might have been the same play, Malone assigns WT to 1594, although his respect for Walpole, the silence of Francis Meres’s Palladis Tamia: Wit’s Treasury (1598), which mentions a dozen other Shn. titles, and the paucity of couplets in WT (characteristic of Sh.’s early style) make him doubt whether it ought not to be ascribed to the year 1601, or 1602. By the time of his own edition of WT (Malone, ed. 1790), he was convinced that A Winter Night’s Pastime was not WT, and its removal from consideration made Walpole’s conjecture extremely plausible (1.1:350). Meanwhile, Blackstone (in Steevens, ed. 1785) discovered in the lines If I could find example Of thousand’s that had struck anoynted Kings, And flourish’d after, Il’d not do’t: But since Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one, Let Villanie it selfe forswear’t (460–4) an allusion to the death of the queen of Scots. The play therefore was written in king James’s time. His argument is that an allusion to Mary, Queen of Scots, King James’s mother, could never have been made before Queen Elizabeth’s death, for Queen Elizabeth, however reluctantly, had consented to Queen Mary’s execution. Trapped, Malone (1.1:351) attempted to have it both ways: Sh. lay’d the scheme of the play in the very year in which the queen died [1603], and finished it in the next. He discovers, however, in the Stationers’ Register, 2 April 1604, the entry of The Strange Report of a Monstruous Fishe (see n. 2097–103), to which, he believes, Autolycus alludes, and he also finds the Puritan who sings psalms to hornpipes (1712–13) a corroborating detail, because (1.1:352) the precise manners of the puritans was at this time much ridiculed by protestants. As for style, the meter is less easy and flowing than is usual in Sh.’s plays and the phraseology more involved and parenthetical. . . . In this harshness of diction and involution of sentences it [WT] strongly resembles Tro. and H8. The latter play is now dated 1612–13, not long after WT, but Tro. some ten years earlier. Nevertheless, Malone knew that Jonson had alluded to WT, as well as to Tmp., in the Induction to Bartholomew Fair, first produced in 1614 (see n. 0), and so again changed his mind (1.2:286): Jonson joined these plays in the same censure, in consequence of their having been produced at no great distance of time from each other; and . . . The Winter’s Tale ought to have been ascribed to the year 1613.

Hurdis (1792, pp. 22–3), is unconvinced: The faults of its [WT’s] metre and its language are so numerous, that it must be ranked with [Ant., H8, Cor., and Cym.], . . . the earliest efforts of our poet’s muse. The anointed kings passage, Hurdis believes (p. 23), was inserted later. The compliment he has paid to the Queen in the fable of the play . . . affords a strong proof that it was written during her life-time. For it is not likely that he [Sh.] would endeavour to exculpate Anne Bullen in the reign of James. Chalmers (1799, pp. 396–401)—whom F. W. Clarke (in Furnivall, ed. 1908, p. ix) calls the Sir Politick-Would-Be of Shakespearean criticism—observes several historical allusions in WT but not Blackstone’s, for, Chalmers says, Blackstone’s mind was not very amply stored with historical knowledge of the Elizabethan period. He believes that the lines Blackstone cited—If I could find example Of thousand’s that had struck anoynted Kings (460–1)—reflect the public prayers offered for the queen after the failure of Essex’s rebellion; an allusion such as Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome (2737) would have been inappropriate in King James’s time, for he had heirs. Thus, Chalmers concludes, WT was written in 1601. Also rejecting Blackstone and his use of the execution of the Queen of Scots as evidence, Douce (1807, 1:347) notes: The perpetrator of that atrocious murder did flourish many years afterwards. Douce therefore thinks the allusion in lines 460–4 is to King James’s escape from the Gowrie conspiracy (1582), an event often brought toi the people’s recollection during his reign.

Opposition to such fanciful guessing was bound to arise. Boswell (ed. 1821, 14:234–5), for example: I confess I am very sceptical as to these supposed allusions by [235] Shakspeare to the history of his own time. If the plots of his plays had been of his own invention, he might possibly have framed them with a view of that kind; but this was unquestionably not the case with the play before us; and if any one had intended a courtly defence of Queen Elizabeth’s mother, it must have been Greene, and not Shakspeare. Garinter, the Mamillius of our poet, dies under the same circumstances, in the novel [see here]; nor is it, as Mr. Walpole seemed to suppose, an unnecessary incident, because it fulfils the declaration of the oracle, that if the child which was lost could not be found, the king would die without an heir [1315–16]. To say that a child resembles her father is surely not so uncommon a remark as to make it evident that it had reference to a particular individual; nor is there any thing very courtly or complimentary in Paulina’s angry allusion to the old proverb.

Moreover, Malone had already found the clue needed to begin working through the early speculations, although he did not immediately recognize its value. In his Historical Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Stage (ed. 1790, 1.2:1–284), Malone first makes use of a document that has since disappeared, the office book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels to King James. As Chambers (1930, 2:347) explains, the Office Book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels, . . . is now lost, but in 1790 was in the house of Francis Ingram at Ribbesford, Worcestershire, which had belonged to Herbert. Malone (1.2:226) quotes Herbert’s memorandum: For the king’s players. An olde playe called Winters Tale, formerly allowed of by Sir George Bucke, and likewyse by mee on Mr. Hemmings his worde that there was nothing prophane added or reformed, thogh the allowed booke was missinge; and therefore I returned itt without a fee, this 19 of August, 1623. Book in this context is probably the technical term for the prompt copy of the play on which the license to act was inscribed (see Greg, 1931, 1:192–3), although Pollard (1920, p. 67) had thought that the term possibly [referred to] the original manuscript. Bucke, or Buc, was Master of the Revels from 1610 to 1622; Hemmings, or Heminge, was an actor with, and the business manager of, the King’s Men.

George Buc had served as deputy Master from 1603, however, and Chalmers (1799, pp. 200 ff.) prints extracts from the Stationers’ Registers showing Buc as licenser for the printing of plays as early as 1606. Malone may or may not be right that Buc did not license plays for performance before he became Master (see Eccles, 1933, p. 458). Thus critics like Rolfe (ed. 1879, p. 10 n.), who asserts that the Stationers’ Registers show . . . that he [Buc] had practically the control of the office from the year 1607, are saying more than the entries in the Registers prove. The same applies to critics like Wickham (1973, p. 96 n.); they maintain that until his official installation as Master, Buc licensed for printing only. Albright (1927, p. 246), incidentally, asserts that WT was relicensed to prevent its being taken over by another company because it was in print, but Greg (1928, p. 96) points out the obvious—that Buc acted not for Albright’s reason but because the authorised copy had been lost. That copy was apparently on hand when the play was acted at court on 7 April 1618 and perhaps in 1619 as well (see here); as Baldwin (Division, 1965, p. 51) notes, its absence may have been discovered when the company began to prepare for the court performance of 18 January 1624 (see here). Greg (1954, p. 150): The Winter’s Tale is peculiar in that it may have been a late addition to the folio, and that a new prompt-book was licensed by Herbert in August 1623. . . . These facts are probably related, but it is not clear that they have any bearing on the nature of the text.

Drake (1817, 1:504–5), convinced that Tmp. was written towards the close of 1611, argues (1:497) that WT was written towards the close of 1610 and was licensed and performed during the succeeding year. The order of the two plays is assumed to be that in which they were named by Jonson. Without mentioning Drake, Malone (in Boswell, ed. 1821, 2:463) states: I . . . suppose The Winter’s Tale to have been originally licensed by him [Buc] in the latter part of that year [1610] or the beginning of the next. He therefore assigns the play to 1611. Although Dutton (1991, p. 151) finds no cogent evidence that Buc was involved . . . in the censoring of plays for performance, prior to Tilney’s death, critics by and large have accepted Malone’s terminus a quo. According to Halliwell (ed. 1859, 8:40), for example, In the absence of any direct evidence to the contrary, it seems . . . unnecessary to suggest that the Winter’s Tale may have been one of the dramas that passed under Buck’s review during the tenancy of Tylney in the office; and it may fairly, at present, be taken for granted that the comedy was not produced until after the month of August, 1610. Hunter (1845, 1:416) believes that prior to 1610, Buc licensed both for performance and for printing; on the basis of a supposed affinity of WT with TN, he dates WT not later than 1601 or 1602—or, if licensing by Buc must be taken into account, 1606, the year after the Gunpowder Plot, because of the anointed kings passage (see n. 460–4). As for the absence of the allowed copy, Malone suggests that it was destroyed in the Globe fire of 1613, but Chambers (1930, 1:488) disagrees, pointing out that there was a performance in 1618 and probably another about 1619. The former is attested by Cunningham (1842, p. xlv): To John Heminges &c upon a warrant dated 20 April 1618 for presenting two severall Playes before his Maty. on Easter Monday Twelfte night the play soe called and on Easter Tuesday the Winter’s Tale xxli. The latter is inferred from the appearance of The Winters Tale on a piece of waste paper from the Revels Office (see Marcham, 1925, pp. 7, 13).

Important new evidence of WT’s date came to light with the discovery of a passage in Simon Forman’s Bocke of Plaies (Bodleian Library MS Ashmole 208, fols. 201v–202). As Pafford (Forman, 1959, pp. 289–90) remarks, W. H. Black began to catalogue the Ashmole manuscripts in 1830 or 1831, and there is a note by Black on a proof-sheet of the catalogue against [290] the entry of the Bocke of Plaies which reads I made a transcript of this curious article, in 1832, for my friend J. P. Collier. The so-called Book of Plays consists of memoranda made in 1611 by Forman after seeing four plays at the Globe—Macbeth, Cymbeline, Richard II (not Sh.’s), and WT. Of WT he wrote: IN the Winters Talle at the glob 1611 the 15 of maye ☿ [Wednesday]

Obserue ther howe Lyontes the kinge of Cicillia was overcom wth Ielosy of his wife with the kinge of Bohemia his frind that came to see him. and howe he Contriued his death and wold haue had his cup berer to haue poisoned. who gaue the king of bohemia warning therof & fled with him to bohemia/Remēber also howe he sent to the Orakell of appollo & the Aunswer of apollo. that she was giltles. and that the king was Ielouse &c and howe Except the child was found Again that was loste the kinge should die wthout yssue. for the child was caried into bohemia & ther laid in a forrest & brought vp by a sheppard And the kinge of bohemiā his sonn maried that wentch & howe they fled into Cicillia to Leontes. and the sheppard hauing showed the letter of the noble man by whom Leontes sent a was [away? it was?] that child and the Iewells found about her. she was knowen to be leontes daughter and was then 16 yers old

Remember also the Rog that cam in all tottered like coll pixci /. and howe he feyned him sicke & to haue bin Robbed of all that he had and howe he cosoned the por man of all his money. and after cam to the shep sher with a pedlers packe & ther cosoned them Again of all ther money And howe he changed apparrell wth the kinge of bomia his sonn. and then howe he turned Courtiar &c / beware of trustinge feined beggars or fawninge fellouse.

This transcription appears in Evans (ed. 1974, p. 1842). It agrees in all but a few insignificant details with those given by Pafford (ed. 1963, pp. xxi–xxii) and by Chambers (1930, 2:340–1). Coll pixci, or Colt-pixie, means a mischievous sprite or fairy (OED); Quiller-Couch (ed. 1931, p. viii) gives a shaggy goblin-horse (Grose, 1787). About the memorandum, Quiller-Couch observes: If we may draw the inference, Forman’s rather elaborate description of the plot seems to indicate that The Winter’s Tale was in May 1611 a new play. The WT summary is actually no more elaborate than the summaries of Mac. (1606) and Cym. (1609–10?). Bullough (1975, 8:118), commenting on whether there might have been an earlier version of WT: Forman’s summary of what he saw omits the statue, but since his account of Cymbeline omits the dénouement no argument can be drawn that on 15 May 1611 the play lacked the climactic scene.

Forman’s notes were first published by Collier (1836, p. 20), in a somewhat modernized version. As Collier’s forgeries and impostures were revealed, Forman’s Book of Plays also fell under suspicion, but W. H. Black’s note proves it genuine. Further authentication became available with the publication by Cunningham (1842) of extracts from the Revels Accounts, in which the performance of WT on 5 November 1611, mentioned above, is recorded. Collier (ed. 1842, 3:425–6), however: The Tempest and The Winter’s Tale were both acted at Whitehall, and included in Sir George Buc’s account of the expenses of the Revels from October, 1611, to October, 1612. How much older The Tempest might be than The Winter’s Tale, we have no means of determining; but there is a circumstance which shows that the composition of The Tempest was anterior to that of The Winter’s Tale. . . . [426] There is . . . one remarkable variation [between Pandosto and WT]; in the former the infant Fawnia is put into a boat [to be carried into the midst of the sea, and there left to the wind and wave]. Shakespeare . . . describes the way in which the infant [Perdita] was exposed very differently, and probably for this reason:—that in The Tempest he had previously (perhaps not long before) represented Prospero and Miranda turned adrift at sea in the same manner [as Fawnia]. When, therefore, Shakespeare came to write The Winter’s Tale . . . he varied from the original narrative, in order to avoid an objectionable similarity of incident in his two dramas. Although Collier may be mistaken that Tmp. is the earlier play, his opinion carried some weight; it is quoted with approval later, by Hudson (ed. 1852, 4:6), for example, and it reappears in Muir (1957, p. 243): Possibly the first version of The Tempest had been written before The Winter’s Tale, so that Shakespeare could not easily repeat the incident of the babe adrift in a boat. That there was more than one version of Tmp. is a supposition, however, that disappears from Muir (1977). Nevertheless, it is possible that Tmp. antedates WT. According to Orgel (ed. Tmp., 1987, pp. 63–4), There is . . . not . . . any way of determining chronological priority between The Tempest and The Winter’s Tale. . . . [64] The most we can say is that the evidence supports a date of late 1610 to mid-1611 [for Tmp.], and that Shakespeare was writing the play just after, or just before, or at the same time as The Winter’s Tale. Halliwell (ed. 1859, 8:44): With equal probability, it might be conjectured that Shakespeare, having omitted the incident in the construction of the Winter’s Tale, introduced it in the Tempest as one especially suited to a romantic drama of that description.

Another approach is represented by Procter (1844, 1:x–xi), who finds WT too badly written to be a late play: As a general principle, . . . I would say, that the plays in which signs of imitation (particularly imitation of style) are manifest, should be accounted the earliest; and that those wherein the poetry is redundant and far exceeds the necessities and purposes of the story, should be held to have preceded, in point of time, the great and substantial dramas, in which the business of the play is skilfully wrought out, and where the poetry springs out of the passion or humour of the characters, and serves to illustrate and not to oppress them. In conformity with this view, I think that the [xi] Winter’s Tale, although perhaps not actually performed until the year 1611, can never have been the last work of Shakspere. It is far more like the labour of his youth, an idea to be revived seventy-five years later on supposedly scientific as well as impressionistic evidence (see here). Nevertheless, by the time of Hudson (ed. 1852, 4:6), the composition of WT was assigned to the winter of 1610–11. The later limit is 15 May 1611, when Forman saw the play. The earlier limit, Thorndike (1900, pp. 116–17) argues, was shortly after 1 January 1611, the date of the performance at court of Ben Jonson’s Oberon, the action of which opens upon Silenus, a shaggy old forest god, and at least five of the satyrs over whom he presides (the number who speak). For the probable reappearance of three of these satyrs in WT, see n. 2164 and here. The shortly arises from the assumption that the three saltiers who danced before the king (2158–9) must have done so recently in order for the audience, or at least the members of it who knew about courtly amusements, to grasp the allusion and perhaps also in order for the men still to be available to perform in WT. Yet the line is spoken in modern performances, its significance having become that the three will unknowingly dance before the king once more—that is, King Polixenes. It possibly never meant more than this. Moreover, as Nicoll suggests (see n. 2164), the satyr dance could be an interpolation. Thus WT may have no precise anterior limit, but, as Wells & Taylor (1987, p. 601) point out, if the Crane transcript from which the F text was typeset derived from the promptbook, the original composition predates January 1611 (see here).

Two attempts to prove WT an occasional play were made by Wickham (The Winter’s Tale, 1969, and Investiture, 1969), in the second of which the first is summarized: Critical discussion of The Winter’s Tale has centred on the sixteen-year gap dividing the Sicilian court scenes from the Bohemian pastoral scenes bridged only by Time as Chorus. . . . This odd structural pattern may have stemmed from a deliberate emblematic purpose. Since the skeleton of the plot is the fusing of seemingly irreconcilable opposites, and as nowhere in contemporary politics were such opposites more glaringly apparent than in Anglo-Scottish relations . . . Shakespeare deliberately reworked (and altered) . . . Pandosto at a narrative level in order to reflect emblematically the reunion of the British Isles under his master, James I. The datum point was the legend of the division of Britain by King Brutus among his three sons and Merlin’s prophecy of eventual reunion under a descendant of King Arthur. Henry VII had seen himself as that descendant and James viewed his own claim to the crowns of Scotland and England through Henry’s daughter Margaret (James’s great-great- grandmother) as the fulfillment of the prophecy. Wickham continues: The Winter’s Tale may be regarded not only as a figurative compliment to James I, but also Shakespeare’s contribution to the investiture of Henry, Prince of Wales and Heir Apparent, in 1610. The evidence is drawn from two pageants by Anthony Munday, two masques by Ben Jonson, a poem and a masque by Samuel Daniel, three of James I’s own speeches and two statues, the memorial effigies of Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots, commissioned by King James and placed on the queens’ tombs in Westminster Abbey. Examination of this evidence combines to designate The Winter’s Tale as written for performance in the autumn of 1610 before the King and the Heir Apparent . . . ; to reveal it as [figuring] the mystical marriage of Prince Henry (Florizel) to the three kingdoms whose original unity was lost but has been found (Perdita) thanks to Time and King James’ own piaculous action; and finally to show that, by substituting for the dead Queen of Greene’s novel the living statue of Hermione . . . , Shakespeare created a work of art which was as effective an emblem for his court audience as it was enjoyable dramatic romance for his wider public in the city. Everett (1970) supports Wickham’s parallel of Hermione and Mary, Queen of Scots: Hermione’s blend of royal dignity and pathos . . . [is] expressed in The Winter’s Tale by a few phrases so like echoes of Mary’s words [as given by Antonia Fraser in Mary, Queen of Scots, 1969] as to suggest the possibility of a real connexion. Mary told the deputation of lords who came to announce her trial: I am myself a Queen, the daughter of a King. Hermione refers to herself during her trial as a great king’s daughter [1213], and later . . . says, The Emperor of Russia was my father [1299]. Having cited several similar parallels, Everett concludes, There is, in short, enough dignity and pathos in the Jacobean (as distinct from the Elizabethan) image of Mary Stuart, to give an added interest to Shakespeare’s creation of Hermione, perhaps his queenliest heroine.

Apart from Everett, however, Wickham’s topicality seems to have attracted no supporters. Regarding the statues of the two dead queens, Smith (1972, pp. 217–18) observes: If either had anything to do with The Winter’s Tale, it would seem to be Mary’s, not Elizabeth’s; Mary could in some sense be thought to be resurrected by the investiture of her grandson as Prince of Wales. The trouble is that Mary’s statue was not finished until 1612 . . . and by this time The Winter’s Tale had been on the stage for two years. But Wickham, undismayed, says [in Heritage, 1969] the sculptors lived in Southwark . . . and Shakespeare could have dropped in at their studio any time from 1606 to 1610 to see [218] how the statue was coming. On this frail evidence we are asked to believe that Florizel represents Prince Henry. Nevertheless, these ideas are reiterated and further developed in Wickham (1973). Bullough (1975, 8:117) objects, though: It is going too far to suggest that the play figures the mystical marriage of Prince Henry (Florizel) to the three kingdoms whose original unity was lost but had been found (Perdita). . . . If there was such an allegorical intention why did not Shakespeare make Florizel (like Greene’s Dorastus) rule over two kingdoms at the end of the play? To which it might be replied that Florizel, as Perdita’s consort and Mamillius reborn, will reign over two kingdoms, although that fact will hardly save Wickham’s case.

Internal Evidence

As Furness (ed. 1898, p. 316) says, Roderick (1758, p. 225) was apparently the first to observe that the verse lines of H8 more frequently than those of other plays end in a redundant syllable. Malone (in Steevens, ed. 1778, 1:280 n.) adds that a mixture of rhyming lines and blank verse is a circumstance which seems to characterize and distinguish our poet’s earliest performance. From these beginnings developed a close study of Sh.’s style to determine, more exactly than external evidence allows, when he wrote his works.

The earliest critic to divide Sh.’s career into four periods distinguished by stylistic differences was Bathurst (1857). By the third quarter of the 19th c., one of the internal tests of chronology given by Ward (1875, 1:359–63) was versification, subdivided as follows: (a) Rhyme: Progress from more to less rhyme may be held to accompany the general progress of Shakspere as a dramatic writer. (b) Stopped and unstopped lines: A stopped line is one in which the sentence, or clause of the sentence, concludes with the line; but it is not always possible to determine what is to be regarded as the clause of the sentence, whether e.g. and is to be regarded . . . as beginning a new clause. The stopping of the sense is . . . often of more importance than the stopping of the sentence. (c) Feminine endings, or line endings with an eleventh, unaccented, syllable: While it is certain that Shakspere employed the feminine endings sparingly in many of his plays . . . regarded as early, it is certain that in those plays which on other grounds may be regarded as . . . late . . . he employed these endings largely. Ward’s examples, supplied by Fleay, include Shr. (now dated 1593–4), line 260, and WT 639, but also R3 (1592–3), line 570. The tabulations are not adjusted for the length of the plays or the proportions in them of verse and prose. And (d) Other verse tests, such as irregularities in the trimeter couplets of the early plays and, in the late plays, such carelessness as the failure to mark the caesura.

Fleay himself (1876) divides Sh.’s career into periods characterized by more or less distinct metrical features. In the last period (pp. 70–1), doggerel, alternately rhyming lines, and couplets are absent; alexandrines, with considerable variation in the position of the caesura, increase; and so do feminine endings; and so do lines of less than five measures. Fleay assigns WT (p. 136), along with Cym., Cor., Ant., and Tmp., to Sh.’s fourth (and last) period, but in a postscript (p. 138) creates a fifth period for Tmp. and WT alone. The actual date he assigns to WT is 1610–11 (p. 54) or 1611 (p. 130), 1611? having earlier been proposed by Furnivall (1874, p. xlv). Later, Fleay (1886, p. 65) decides that WT was certainly produced early this year [1610], before Jonson’s Alchemist, which was acted and entered S[tationers’] R[egister] October 3. Fleay’s techniques and conclusions raised questions immediately (see the discussion following the reading of his paper before the New Shakspere Society on 13 Mar. 1874, in Fleay, 1874), and he changed his mind as his investigations continued. In any event, his date for WT was not affected; in the 1886 work (p. 247) as in the 1874 volume (p. 10), it is 1610. By introducing this type of analysis, Fleay hoped to apply a scientific technique to the problems of Shn. chronology, but his followers proved capable of wild variations in method and conclusions, and he himself could not count.

The predilection for Shn. statistics, however, extends to Bather’s Table of Plays, According to Number of Puns (1887, p. 74), which shows a decrease in the number of puns per 100 lines from 3.97 in LLL to 0.26 in WT. As a technique for dating, the scheme is demolished by the fact that Tit. contains only 0.15 and 3H6 only 0.14. Bayfield’s (1920, pp. 402–3) verse analysis reveals that WT must have been written some years before the generally received date 1610. . . . It suggests that the performance at the Globe theatre on May 15, 1611 . . . must refer to a revival. . . . [403] [WT’s] versification is in fact of a quite different period [from that of the late plays. WT was written] near Troilus and Cressida, The Taming of the Shrew, and Timon. On the other hand, impressionistic critics who did not conduct verse tests could also reach strange conclusions. Spens (1922, p. 92), for example, suspects that all the Romances . . . were written originally by Shakespeare at the very beginning of his career, and that they were for the most part one or two act pieces forming part of a series. Mathew (1922, p. 41) agrees in part: These Plays were written first when Shakespeare was young and revised when he was mature.

The testimony of internal evidence is usually linked to the historical and practical facts of Sh.’s career, the latter being, for instance, that Sh. could not write more than a certain amount in a certain period, about two plays a year when his known work is distributed over the period during which he is believed to have been active. The distribution may also be colored by assumptions, not necessarily wrong, about Sh.’s development as a man and an artist. As Dowden (1877, pp. 37–41) puts it, We need no scientific test to make us aware that, in passing from Love’s Labour’s Lost to Hamlet, and from Hamlet to The Tempest, we pass from youth to manhood, and again from a manhood of trial and sorrow to a riper manhood of attainment and of calm. Affected by the transitions are (a) style and diction. In the earliest plays . . . the idea is at times hardly sufficient to fill out the language in which it is put; in the middle plays . . . there seems a perfect balance and equality between the thought and its expression[; in the latest] this balance is disturbed by the preponderance or excess of the ideas over the means of giving them utterance. . . . (b) The growth of Shakspere’s taste and judgment. . . . [38] (c) In the structure of the play and grouping of characters there is, in some of the early plays, a tendency to formal symmetry, an artificial setting of character over against character, and group against group. . . . Afterwards the outline of the play is drawn with a freer because a firmer hand. (d) . . . By degrees the characterisation becomes profound and refined. . . . (e) The entire reflective power deepens. . . . (f) The imagination . . . becomes passionately energetic, of daring and all-comprehensive power, as in King Lear, or lofty and sustained, with noble ideality, as in The Tempest. (g) The sympathy with human passion and the power of conceiving and dramatically rendering it in its most massive and most intense [39] forms increases. (h) . . . The humour of the dramatist . . . becomes full of grave significance, and works in conjunction with his (i) Deepening pathos. . . . (j) Finally, in moral reach, in true justice, in charity, in self-control, in all that indicate fortitude of will, the writings of the mature Shakspere excel, in an extraordinary degree, those of his younger self. These characteristics obviously cannot be quantified, but the alteration in Sh.’s verse can be. At first Shakspere has his breaks and pauses at the end of the line—the verse is end-stopt; gradually he more and more [carries] on the sense from one line to another without a pause at the end of the line [but] in some part of the line other than the end. Light and weak endings increase. The first group, in Dowden’s classification, encompasses words on which (p. 41) the voice can to a small extent dwell (am, are, be, can, could; the auxiliaries do, does, has, had; I, they, thou). The weak endings are more fugitive and evanescent . . . , including such words as and, for, from, if, in, of, or. Now weak endings hardly appear in Shakspere’s early or middle plays. . . . Nor do they come in by slow degrees at a later period. . . . In Macbeth light endings appear for the first time in considerable numbers; weak endings in considerable numbers for the first time in Antony and Cleopatra. This test serves perfectly to pick out the plays which form the group belonging to Shakspere’s last period of dramatic authorship; and within that period it probably serves to indicate nearly the precise order in which the plays were written. Dowden reproduces part of a table devised by Ingram (1874, p. 450) showing percentages of light and weak endings, from Mac. through H8, in a sequence that does not quite bear Dowden out, in that it places Tmp. earlier than Cym. and WT. Similarly, Dowden reproduces a table he attributes to Hertzberg; it shows the percentage of double, or feminine, endings increasing from LLL (4) through Tmp. and puts WT (31.09) before Cym. (32) by a whisker. Actually, the table Hertzberg published (1878, p. 252) reverses the sequence (WT 32.5), but in neither accounting is the difference great enough to establish priority. (Similar data from which similar conclusions were drawn persisted; see, for example, Neilson & Thorndike, c. 1913, pp. 69–75.)

The history of stylistic analysis and the efforts of other contributors to it are described in detail by Chambers (1930, 1:242–74). As a prelude to his own assignment of dates, he provides a thorough discussion of the problem of chronology, an evaluation of the evidence of dates, and (in 2:397–408) his own metrical tables, several of them corrected versions of Fleay’s. He believes (1:489) that the style and metre group Winter’s Tale with Cymbeline and Tempest, and it may reasonably be placed between them. A date early in 1611 is suggested by the probability that the bear of iii.3 and the dance of satyrs at [2164] were both inspired by Jonson’s mask of Oberon on 1 January 1611. For the bear, see n. 1500, and for the satyrs, n. 2164. Gray (1931, p. 148) averages the percentages of double [i.e., feminine] endings, run-on lines, and speeches ending with the line and discovers that the results for WT, Tmp., and Cym., though close to those for Cor. on the earlier side and H8 on the later, are also close to each other. Having related independent clauses to verse lines, Langworthy (1931, p. 748) gets similar results for the same plays, although his data order them as Tmp., Cym., and WT. Law (1936, pp. 50–1) tabulates the dates assigned by Adams (1923), Alden (1925), Chambers (1930), Craig (ed. 1931), Campbell (1932), Parrott (1934), and Brooke (ed. 1935). All give 1610 or 1610–11. So does Reinhold (1942, p. 87); like Oras (see below), Reinhold calculates split lines (pentameters shared by two or more speakers) as a percentage of the total lines in each play to show that their number generally increases with time. In an early statistical study, Yardi (1946) uses multiple measurements of metrical data for the discrimination of groups; the results place WT with Cym. and Tmp. but do not provide actual dates. Brainerd’s (1980) statistical study of Shn. chronology has no bearing, for WT, dated 1610.5, is a member of the test set, plays for the most part unambiguously dated.

A few recent critics dissent. Wentersdorf (1951, p. 178), combining such stylistic features as split lines, extra syllables within and at the end of lines, feminine endings, and alexandrines into a metrical index for each play, finds the three last to have been written in Chambers’s (1930) order, but he moves each work back by a year, WT to 1609–10. As Tmp. was performed at court on 1 November 1611, it would have been acted publicly at least by the summer of 1611, since public success presumably preceded the selection of any play for presentation at court. If the dance of satyrs in WT derives from Jonson’s Oberon, WT may nevertheless have been in existence prior to January 1611, when the masque was performed, and the satyrs subsequently added. It has also been suggested that the bear scene in Act iii was borrowed from . . . Mucedorus, which was revived by the King’s Men shortly before 1610. If this was the case (as the bear episode is not in Shakespeare’s source for WT), it points to an upward [i.e., anterior] time limit late in 1609. . . . Finally, the reference at [461] is sufficiently motivated by the story and in any case too general to warrant interpretation to the murder of Henri IV on 14 May 1610 (see Chambers, 1930, 2:489). Having assigned Per. to 1607–8 and Tmp. to 1610–11, Wentersdorf accordingly dates Cym. and WT 1608–9 and 1609–10, respectively. Also dissenting is Oras (1960), who studies three types of pauses in the verse of Sh. and a number of other early writers, under three heads: all pauses indicated by the internal punctuation of the earliest eds. (A-patterns); strong pauses indicated by punctuation heavier than commas (B-patterns); and lines shared by two or more speakers—split lines—(C-patterns). That the punctuation may be scribal or compositorial is recognized, but it is still considered a valid marker because its source is contemporaneous. The data are presented numerically and graphically, and although no actual dates are assigned, the patterns of Cym. and WT resemble each other more strongly than they resemble the patterns of the other works studied.

Alexander (ed. 1951, p. xv), wisely declining to be pinned down to more than an approximate order of composition, places WT, along with Per., Cym., Tmp., and H8, between 1608 and 1613. Maxwell (ed. Cym., 1960, p. xi), commenting on 1609–10 and 1610–11 for the dates of Cym. and WT, respectively: It is reasonable to associate the greater artistic assurance of The Winter’s Tale with a later date [than Cym.’s], which is also supported by the fact that Shakespeare undoubtedly knew the Boccaccio source of Cymbeline when he wrote The Winter’s Tale. I think [the 1610–11] date for The Winter’s Tale may well be a year too late. There is a fairly close verbal parallel between The Winter’s Tale [1941–7] and Philaster [4.6.2–8], which seems to me most easily explained as an echo of the former by the latter; and Philaster is not later than 8 October 1610 [see Chambers, 1923, 3:223]. To Tillyard (1938, pp. 9–10), however, the echoes seem reversed: Sh. is improving Fletcher (see n. 1941–7). In any case, as Pafford (ed. 1963, p. 97 n.) remarks, the strewing of corpses as well as bridal beds with flowers is a common idea.

As for the presence of Cym.’s source in WT, the story in question is the ninth novel of the second day of Boccaccio’s Decameron. Muir (1977, pp. 262–3) summarizes it: Some Italian merchants at an inn in Paris deride the idea of a female chastity and Bernabo of Genoa is provoked by Ambrogiuolo to bet on the chastity of his wife, Ginevra. On going to Genoa, Ambrogiuolo realizes that he cannot seduce Ginevra. Concealed in a chest, he is able to observe the pictures of her bedroom, to steal a ring and other belongings, and to observe a mole on the lady’s breast. Bernabo is convinced that he has lost the wager and he orders his servant to murder Ginevra. The servant, convinced of her innocence, spares her. She dresses in his clothes and takes service with the Soldan. One day she sees her purse and girdle in a stall in the market-place. When the truth comes to light, Ginevra reveals herself to her husband and forgives him. The villain is tortured to death: the verie same day that hee was impaled on the stake, annointed with honey, and fixed in the place appointed, to his no meane tormente: he not onely died, but likewise was deuoured to the bare [263] bones, by Flies, Waspes, and Hornets, whereof the Countrey notoriously aboundeth. As Iachimo is forgiven, this torture is not used in Cymbeline; but in The Winter’s Tale Autolycus tells the Clown [2665–72]. Smith (1972, p. 216) holds that it is generally agreed . . . that The Winter’s Tale is the later of the two [because] the use of the leftover passage about the punishment of the villain . . . suggests that The Winter’s Tale followed Cymbeline.

Earlier, however, Nosworthy (ed. Cym., 1955, pp. xvi–xvii), instead of drawing this conclusion, recognizes the possibility that Shakespeare owed the name Belarius [in Cym.] to the Bellaria of Greene’s Pandosto . . . so that the evidence can point either way. My own guess is that the composition of the two plays was more or less simultaneous or, at any rate, that both had been written, revised and prepared for the stage before either was actually performed, with consequent cross-fertilisation. This view . . . tallies with the attractive theory, put forward by [Bentley, 1948], that the impending acquisition of the Blackfriars private theatre led, in the Spring and Summer of 1608, to discussions among the King’s Players as a result of which Shakespeare was henceforth to write with the Blackfriars in mind, and not the Globe, and that [Cym., WT, and Tmp.,] in that [xvii] order, were the fruits of that decision. Bentley says nothing about their respective dates, but the application of his theory would . . . suggest 1608 for the first play of the series. Recalling that it was at the public theater that Forman saw WT, Nosworthy demurs at and not the Globe, preferring to think that after his company acquired the Blackfriars theater in 1608, Sh. wrote dual-purpose plays, for such, most emphatically and triumphantly, the Romances are. If Cym., the first play of the series, was composed in 1608, 1608–9 would presumably be the date of WT. Although Pafford (ed. 1963, p. xxiii) does not deal explicitly with Nosworthy’s idea, he comments: The language, style, and spirit of the play all point to a late date. The tangled speech, the packed sentences, speeches which begin and end in the middle of a line, and the high percentage of light and weak endings are all marks of Shakespeare’s writing at the end of his career. But of more importance than verse tests is the similarity of the last plays in spirit and themes. . . . Practically all authorities . . . accept, with minor variations, the approximate dates given by Chambers [i.e., 1610–11]. Those who do not follow Chambers may instead favor Wentersdorf—for example, Fitch (1981, p. 300), who, in a revival of sense-pause investigation, decides on 1609–10.

Summary

A comprehensive reexamination of the internal evidence of WT’s date is made by Taylor (in Wells & Taylor, pp. 93–109). Among the data included are the percentage of rhyme to verse and to prose; colloquialisms in verse (e.g., i’th’, ’em, ’ll, I’m), which show that Shakespeare’s reversion to an antiquated dramatic form [the romance] apparently coincides with some backsliding toward a less colloquial poetry (p. 101); and a revision of Wentersdorf’s metrical indices and Oras’s pause patterns. Taylor concludes (p. 107) that although minor ambiguities remain about the order of particular plays, we can be reasonably confident about the shape of the canon after about 1597. Nevertheless, recent eds. differ to some extent, as the following comparison shows (see table).

Chambers (1930) is included because his chronology was accepted by many eds. until recently; all his dates given here are reiterated by McManaway (1950). Lr. is present because Taylor holds that the text of that play included in F1 is a revision of the text that first appeared in the quarto of 1608 substantial enough to constitute a new creation. Cardenio is a play based on a story in Don Quixote and thought to be by Shakespeare and Fletcher (as are H8 and TNK). As Chambers (1930, 1:539) notes: A play of Cardenno or Cardenna was given by the King’s men at court in the winter of 1612–13. It was acted in 1727 under the title Double Falsehood and printed in 1728 as Written Originally by W. Shakespeare; And now Revised and Adapted to the Stage by Mr. Theobald. Bevington’s WT range is an innovation for him; his previous editions of the Works (1973 and 1980) substantially agree with Chambers and with Evans (c. 1610–11). He appears to have extended these dates on the chance that Taylor may be right, a question that critics of Lr. will have to decide. As it now stands, however, c. 1610–11 is as close as one can come to the date of WT.

A Comparison of Four Chronologies

Chambers 1930 Evans ed. 1974 Taylor 1987 Bevington ed. 1992
Per. 1608–9 1607–8 1607 1606–8
Cym. 1609–10 1609–10 1610 c. 1608–10
WT 1610–11 1610–11 1609 c. 1609–11
Lr. rev. 1610
Tmp. 1611–12 1611 1611 c. 1611
H8 1612–13 1612–13 1612–13
Cardenio 1612–13 1612–13
TNK 1612–13 1613 1613–14 1613–16

External Evidence

Early attempts to date WT were influenced by the opinion that so irregular a play must have been the work of an inexperienced playwright and by the entry dated 22 May 1594 in the Stationers’ Register of a booke entituled a Wynters nightes pastime (Arber, 1875–94, 2:650), which was taken to be WT. Ulrici (1839; trans. 1846, p. 269) wrote, for example, that this is probably the same drama as we now have, which, upon its revision, received a name more suited to its altered form. The equation was not unreasonable, for the Accounts of the Revels at Court record a performance by the King’s Men on 5 November 1611 of A play called ye winters nightes Tayle (see Cunningham, 1842, p. 210, and Streitberger, 1986, p. 48); Chambers (1923, 4:125) identifies this later wintry amusement as WT.

Overly imaginative discoveries of allusions also interfered. Walpole (1768, 2:114–16) thought that WT was certainly intended (in compliment to queen Elizabeth) as an indirect apology for her mother Anne Boleyn. . . . [115] The unreasonable jealousy of Leontes, and his violent conduct in consequence, form a true portrait of Henry the Eighth, who generally made the law the engine of his boisterous passions. . . . Several passages . . . touch the real history nearer than the fable. Hermione on her trial says, [For Honor, ’Tis a deriuatiue from me to mine, And onely that I stand for (1217–19)]. This seems to be taken from the very letter of Anne Boleyn to the king before her execution, where she pleads for the infant princess his daughter. Adding several similar details, Walpole concludes (116): The Winter Evening’s Tale was therefore in reality a second part of Henry the Eighth. For the compliment to have point, Queen Elizabeth must have been alive to receive it; hence, in Walpole’s view, WT preceded her demise, in 1603. The letter to which Walpole alludes is found in The Harleian Miscellany (1808, 1:201–2). According to DNB (s.v. Anne), the letter is a manifest fabrication of the time of Queen Elizabeth; nevertheless, it speaks with pathetic dignity of the foul blots on the most dutiful wife and on the infant princess. A modernized text is in Black (1933, pp. 46–7).

Far-fetched notions abound. Capell (1783, 2.4:176) finds several absurd reasons to think that at the time he wrote WT, Sh. had his mind on a country matter, his retirement (e.g., the mention of th’Grange, or Mill at 2126). The play is a writing for Stratford, or a writing at it. Capell dates the play 1613, after H8 and before Tmp. (1614). Ironically, Capell is nearer current opinion than the more judicious Malone (in Steevens, ed. 1778, 1:285). Influenced by the entry of A Winter Night’s Pastime, which might have been the same play, Malone assigns WT to 1594, although his respect for Walpole, the silence of Francis Meres’s Palladis Tamia: Wit’s Treasury (1598), which mentions a dozen other Shn. titles, and the paucity of couplets in WT (characteristic of Sh.’s early style) make him doubt whether it ought not to be ascribed to the year 1601, or 1602. By the time of his own edition of WT (Malone, ed. 1790), he was convinced that A Winter Night’s Pastime was not WT, and its removal from consideration made Walpole’s conjecture extremely plausible (1.1:350). Meanwhile, Blackstone (in Steevens, ed. 1785) discovered in the lines If I could find example Of thousand’s that had struck anoynted Kings, And flourish’d after, Il’d not do’t: But since Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one, Let Villanie it selfe forswear’t (460–4) an allusion to the death of the queen of Scots. The play therefore was written in king James’s time. His argument is that an allusion to Mary, Queen of Scots, King James’s mother, could never have been made before Queen Elizabeth’s death, for Queen Elizabeth, however reluctantly, had consented to Queen Mary’s execution. Trapped, Malone (1.1:351) attempted to have it both ways: Sh. lay’d the scheme of the play in the very year in which the queen died [1603], and finished it in the next. He discovers, however, in the Stationers’ Register, 2 April 1604, the entry of The Strange Report of a Monstruous Fishe (see n. 2097–103), to which, he believes, Autolycus alludes, and he also finds the Puritan who sings psalms to hornpipes (1712–13) a corroborating detail, because (1.1:352) the precise manners of the puritans was at this time much ridiculed by protestants. As for style, the meter is less easy and flowing than is usual in Sh.’s plays and the phraseology more involved and parenthetical. . . . In this harshness of diction and involution of sentences it [WT] strongly resembles Tro. and H8. The latter play is now dated 1612–13, not long after WT, but Tro. some ten years earlier. Nevertheless, Malone knew that Jonson had alluded to WT, as well as to Tmp., in the Induction to Bartholomew Fair, first produced in 1614 (see n. 0), and so again changed his mind (1.2:286): Jonson joined these plays in the same censure, in consequence of their having been produced at no great distance of time from each other; and . . . The Winter’s Tale ought to have been ascribed to the year 1613.

Hurdis (1792, pp. 22–3), is unconvinced: The faults of its [WT’s] metre and its language are so numerous, that it must be ranked with [Ant., H8, Cor., and Cym.], . . . the earliest efforts of our poet’s muse. The anointed kings passage, Hurdis believes (p. 23), was inserted later. The compliment he has paid to the Queen in the fable of the play . . . affords a strong proof that it was written during her life-time. For it is not likely that he [Sh.] would endeavour to exculpate Anne Bullen in the reign of James. Chalmers (1799, pp. 396–401)—whom F. W. Clarke (in Furnivall, ed. 1908, p. ix) calls the Sir Politick-Would-Be of Shakespearean criticism—observes several historical allusions in WT but not Blackstone’s, for, Chalmers says, Blackstone’s mind was not very amply stored with historical knowledge of the Elizabethan period. He believes that the lines Blackstone cited—If I could find example Of thousand’s that had struck anoynted Kings (460–1)—reflect the public prayers offered for the queen after the failure of Essex’s rebellion; an allusion such as Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome (2737) would have been inappropriate in King James’s time, for he had heirs. Thus, Chalmers concludes, WT was written in 1601. Also rejecting Blackstone and his use of the execution of the Queen of Scots as evidence, Douce (1807, 1:347) notes: The perpetrator of that atrocious murder did flourish many years afterwards. Douce therefore thinks the allusion in lines 460–4 is to King James’s escape from the Gowrie conspiracy (1582), an event often brought toi the people’s recollection during his reign.

Opposition to such fanciful guessing was bound to arise. Boswell (ed. 1821, 14:234–5), for example: I confess I am very sceptical as to these supposed allusions by [235] Shakspeare to the history of his own time. If the plots of his plays had been of his own invention, he might possibly have framed them with a view of that kind; but this was unquestionably not the case with the play before us; and if any one had intended a courtly defence of Queen Elizabeth’s mother, it must have been Greene, and not Shakspeare. Garinter, the Mamillius of our poet, dies under the same circumstances, in the novel [see here]; nor is it, as Mr. Walpole seemed to suppose, an unnecessary incident, because it fulfils the declaration of the oracle, that if the child which was lost could not be found, the king would die without an heir [1315–16]. To say that a child resembles her father is surely not so uncommon a remark as to make it evident that it had reference to a particular individual; nor is there any thing very courtly or complimentary in Paulina’s angry allusion to the old proverb.

Moreover, Malone had already found the clue needed to begin working through the early speculations, although he did not immediately recognize its value. In his Historical Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Stage (ed. 1790, 1.2:1–284), Malone first makes use of a document that has since disappeared, the office book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels to King James. As Chambers (1930, 2:347) explains, the Office Book of Sir Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels, . . . is now lost, but in 1790 was in the house of Francis Ingram at Ribbesford, Worcestershire, which had belonged to Herbert. Malone (1.2:226) quotes Herbert’s memorandum: For the king’s players. An olde playe called Winters Tale, formerly allowed of by Sir George Bucke, and likewyse by mee on Mr. Hemmings his worde that there was nothing prophane added or reformed, thogh the allowed booke was missinge; and therefore I returned itt without a fee, this 19 of August, 1623. Book in this context is probably the technical term for the prompt copy of the play on which the license to act was inscribed (see Greg, 1931, 1:192–3), although Pollard (1920, p. 67) had thought that the term possibly [referred to] the original manuscript. Bucke, or Buc, was Master of the Revels from 1610 to 1622; Hemmings, or Heminge, was an actor with, and the business manager of, the King’s Men.

George Buc had served as deputy Master from 1603, however, and Chalmers (1799, pp. 200 ff.) prints extracts from the Stationers’ Registers showing Buc as licenser for the printing of plays as early as 1606. Malone may or may not be right that Buc did not license plays for performance before he became Master (see Eccles, 1933, p. 458). Thus critics like Rolfe (ed. 1879, p. 10 n.), who asserts that the Stationers’ Registers show . . . that he [Buc] had practically the control of the office from the year 1607, are saying more than the entries in the Registers prove. The same applies to critics like Wickham (1973, p. 96 n.); they maintain that until his official installation as Master, Buc licensed for printing only. Albright (1927, p. 246), incidentally, asserts that WT was relicensed to prevent its being taken over by another company because it was in print, but Greg (1928, p. 96) points out the obvious—that Buc acted not for Albright’s reason but because the authorised copy had been lost. That copy was apparently on hand when the play was acted at court on 7 April 1618 and perhaps in 1619 as well (see here); as Baldwin (Division, 1965, p. 51) notes, its absence may have been discovered when the company began to prepare for the court performance of 18 January 1624 (see here). Greg (1954, p. 150): The Winter’s Tale is peculiar in that it may have been a late addition to the folio, and that a new prompt-book was licensed by Herbert in August 1623. . . . These facts are probably related, but it is not clear that they have any bearing on the nature of the text.

Drake (1817, 1:504–5), convinced that Tmp. was written towards the close of 1611, argues (1:497) that WT was written towards the close of 1610 and was licensed and performed during the succeeding year. The order of the two plays is assumed to be that in which they were named by Jonson. Without mentioning Drake, Malone (in Boswell, ed. 1821, 2:463) states: I . . . suppose The Winter’s Tale to have been originally licensed by him [Buc] in the latter part of that year [1610] or the beginning of the next. He therefore assigns the play to 1611. Although Dutton (1991, p. 151) finds no cogent evidence that Buc was involved . . . in the censoring of plays for performance, prior to Tilney’s death, critics by and large have accepted Malone’s terminus a quo. According to Halliwell (ed. 1859, 8:40), for example, In the absence of any direct evidence to the contrary, it seems . . . unnecessary to suggest that the Winter’s Tale may have been one of the dramas that passed under Buck’s review during the tenancy of Tylney in the office; and it may fairly, at present, be taken for granted that the comedy was not produced until after the month of August, 1610. Hunter (1845, 1:416) believes that prior to 1610, Buc licensed both for performance and for printing; on the basis of a supposed affinity of WT with TN, he dates WT not later than 1601 or 1602—or, if licensing by Buc must be taken into account, 1606, the year after the Gunpowder Plot, because of the anointed kings passage (see n. 460–4). As for the absence of the allowed copy, Malone suggests that it was destroyed in the Globe fire of 1613, but Chambers (1930, 1:488) disagrees, pointing out that there was a performance in 1618 and probably another about 1619. The former is attested by Cunningham (1842, p. xlv): To John Heminges &c upon a warrant dated 20 April 1618 for presenting two severall Playes before his Maty. on Easter Monday Twelfte night the play soe called and on Easter Tuesday the Winter’s Tale xxli. The latter is inferred from the appearance of The Winters Tale on a piece of waste paper from the Revels Office (see Marcham, 1925, pp. 7, 13).

Important new evidence of WT’s date came to light with the discovery of a passage in Simon Forman’s Bocke of Plaies (Bodleian Library MS Ashmole 208, fols. 201v–202). As Pafford (Forman, 1959, pp. 289–90) remarks, W. H. Black began to catalogue the Ashmole manuscripts in 1830 or 1831, and there is a note by Black on a proof-sheet of the catalogue against [290] the entry of the Bocke of Plaies which reads I made a transcript of this curious article, in 1832, for my friend J. P. Collier. The so-called Book of Plays consists of memoranda made in 1611 by Forman after seeing four plays at the Globe—Macbeth, Cymbeline, Richard II (not Sh.’s), and WT. Of WT he wrote: IN the Winters Talle at the glob 1611 the 15 of maye ☿ [Wednesday]

Obserue ther howe Lyontes the kinge of Cicillia was overcom wth Ielosy of his wife with the kinge of Bohemia his frind that came to see him. and howe he Contriued his death and wold haue had his cup berer to haue poisoned. who gaue the king of bohemia warning therof & fled with him to bohemia/Remēber also howe he sent to the Orakell of appollo & the Aunswer of apollo. that she was giltles. and that the king was Ielouse &c and howe Except the child was found Again that was loste the kinge should die wthout yssue. for the child was caried into bohemia & ther laid in a forrest & brought vp by a sheppard And the kinge of bohemiā his sonn maried that wentch & howe they fled into Cicillia to Leontes. and the sheppard hauing showed the letter of the noble man by whom Leontes sent a was [away? it was?] that child and the Iewells found about her. she was knowen to be leontes daughter and was then 16 yers old

Remember also the Rog that cam in all tottered like coll pixci /. and howe he feyned him sicke & to haue bin Robbed of all that he had and howe he cosoned the por man of all his money. and after cam to the shep sher with a pedlers packe & ther cosoned them Again of all ther money And howe he changed apparrell wth the kinge of bomia his sonn. and then howe he turned Courtiar &c / beware of trustinge feined beggars or fawninge fellouse.

This transcription appears in Evans (ed. 1974, p. 1842). It agrees in all but a few insignificant details with those given by Pafford (ed. 1963, pp. xxi–xxii) and by Chambers (1930, 2:340–1). Coll pixci, or Colt-pixie, means a mischievous sprite or fairy (OED); Quiller-Couch (ed. 1931, p. viii) gives a shaggy goblin-horse (Grose, 1787). About the memorandum, Quiller-Couch observes: If we may draw the inference, Forman’s rather elaborate description of the plot seems to indicate that The Winter’s Tale was in May 1611 a new play. The WT summary is actually no more elaborate than the summaries of Mac. (1606) and Cym. (1609–10?). Bullough (1975, 8:118), commenting on whether there might have been an earlier version of WT: Forman’s summary of what he saw omits the statue, but since his account of Cymbeline omits the dénouement no argument can be drawn that on 15 May 1611 the play lacked the climactic scene.

Forman’s notes were first published by Collier (1836, p. 20), in a somewhat modernized version. As Collier’s forgeries and impostures were revealed, Forman’s Book of Plays also fell under suspicion, but W. H. Black’s note proves it genuine. Further authentication became available with the publication by Cunningham (1842) of extracts from the Revels Accounts, in which the performance of WT on 5 November 1611, mentioned above, is recorded. Collier (ed. 1842, 3:425–6), however: The Tempest and The Winter’s Tale were both acted at Whitehall, and included in Sir George Buc’s account of the expenses of the Revels from October, 1611, to October, 1612. How much older The Tempest might be than The Winter’s Tale, we have no means of determining; but there is a circumstance which shows that the composition of The Tempest was anterior to that of The Winter’s Tale. . . . [426] There is . . . one remarkable variation [between Pandosto and WT]; in the former the infant Fawnia is put into a boat [to be carried into the midst of the sea, and there left to the wind and wave]. Shakespeare . . . describes the way in which the infant [Perdita] was exposed very differently, and probably for this reason:—that in The Tempest he had previously (perhaps not long before) represented Prospero and Miranda turned adrift at sea in the same manner [as Fawnia]. When, therefore, Shakespeare came to write The Winter’s Tale . . . he varied from the original narrative, in order to avoid an objectionable similarity of incident in his two dramas. Although Collier may be mistaken that Tmp. is the earlier play, his opinion carried some weight; it is quoted with approval later, by Hudson (ed. 1852, 4:6), for example, and it reappears in Muir (1957, p. 243): Possibly the first version of The Tempest had been written before The Winter’s Tale, so that Shakespeare could not easily repeat the incident of the babe adrift in a boat. That there was more than one version of Tmp. is a supposition, however, that disappears from Muir (1977). Nevertheless, it is possible that Tmp. antedates WT. According to Orgel (ed. Tmp., 1987, pp. 63–4), There is . . . not . . . any way of determining chronological priority between The Tempest and The Winter’s Tale. . . . [64] The most we can say is that the evidence supports a date of late 1610 to mid-1611 [for Tmp.], and that Shakespeare was writing the play just after, or just before, or at the same time as The Winter’s Tale. Halliwell (ed. 1859, 8:44): With equal probability, it might be conjectured that Shakespeare, having omitted the incident in the construction of the Winter’s Tale, introduced it in the Tempest as one especially suited to a romantic drama of that description.

Another approach is represented by Procter (1844, 1:x–xi), who finds WT too badly written to be a late play: As a general principle, . . . I would say, that the plays in which signs of imitation (particularly imitation of style) are manifest, should be accounted the earliest; and that those wherein the poetry is redundant and far exceeds the necessities and purposes of the story, should be held to have preceded, in point of time, the great and substantial dramas, in which the business of the play is skilfully wrought out, and where the poetry springs out of the passion or humour of the characters, and serves to illustrate and not to oppress them. In conformity with this view, I think that the [xi] Winter’s Tale, although perhaps not actually performed until the year 1611, can never have been the last work of Shakspere. It is far more like the labour of his youth, an idea to be revived seventy-five years later on supposedly scientific as well as impressionistic evidence (see here). Nevertheless, by the time of Hudson (ed. 1852, 4:6), the composition of WT was assigned to the winter of 1610–11. The later limit is 15 May 1611, when Forman saw the play. The earlier limit, Thorndike (1900, pp. 116–17) argues, was shortly after 1 January 1611, the date of the performance at court of Ben Jonson’s Oberon, the action of which opens upon Silenus, a shaggy old forest god, and at least five of the satyrs over whom he presides (the number who speak). For the probable reappearance of three of these satyrs in WT, see n. 2164 and here. The shortly arises from the assumption that the three saltiers who danced before the king (2158–9) must have done so recently in order for the audience, or at least the members of it who knew about courtly amusements, to grasp the allusion and perhaps also in order for the men still to be available to perform in WT. Yet the line is spoken in modern performances, its significance having become that the three will unknowingly dance before the king once more—that is, King Polixenes. It possibly never meant more than this. Moreover, as Nicoll suggests (see n. 2164), the satyr dance could be an interpolation. Thus WT may have no precise anterior limit, but, as Wells & Taylor (1987, p. 601) point out, if the Crane transcript from which the F text was typeset derived from the promptbook, the original composition predates January 1611 (see here).

Two attempts to prove WT an occasional play were made by Wickham (The Winter’s Tale, 1969, and Investiture, 1969), in the second of which the first is summarized: Critical discussion of The Winter’s Tale has centred on the sixteen-year gap dividing the Sicilian court scenes from the Bohemian pastoral scenes bridged only by Time as Chorus. . . . This odd structural pattern may have stemmed from a deliberate emblematic purpose. Since the skeleton of the plot is the fusing of seemingly irreconcilable opposites, and as nowhere in contemporary politics were such opposites more glaringly apparent than in Anglo-Scottish relations . . . Shakespeare deliberately reworked (and altered) . . . Pandosto at a narrative level in order to reflect emblematically the reunion of the British Isles under his master, James I. The datum point was the legend of the division of Britain by King Brutus among his three sons and Merlin’s prophecy of eventual reunion under a descendant of King Arthur. Henry VII had seen himself as that descendant and James viewed his own claim to the crowns of Scotland and England through Henry’s daughter Margaret (James’s great-great- grandmother) as the fulfillment of the prophecy. Wickham continues: The Winter’s Tale may be regarded not only as a figurative compliment to James I, but also Shakespeare’s contribution to the investiture of Henry, Prince of Wales and Heir Apparent, in 1610. The evidence is drawn from two pageants by Anthony Munday, two masques by Ben Jonson, a poem and a masque by Samuel Daniel, three of James I’s own speeches and two statues, the memorial effigies of Queen Elizabeth and Mary, Queen of Scots, commissioned by King James and placed on the queens’ tombs in Westminster Abbey. Examination of this evidence combines to designate The Winter’s Tale as written for performance in the autumn of 1610 before the King and the Heir Apparent . . . ; to reveal it as [figuring] the mystical marriage of Prince Henry (Florizel) to the three kingdoms whose original unity was lost but has been found (Perdita) thanks to Time and King James’ own piaculous action; and finally to show that, by substituting for the dead Queen of Greene’s novel the living statue of Hermione . . . , Shakespeare created a work of art which was as effective an emblem for his court audience as it was enjoyable dramatic romance for his wider public in the city. Everett (1970) supports Wickham’s parallel of Hermione and Mary, Queen of Scots: Hermione’s blend of royal dignity and pathos . . . [is] expressed in The Winter’s Tale by a few phrases so like echoes of Mary’s words [as given by Antonia Fraser in Mary, Queen of Scots, 1969] as to suggest the possibility of a real connexion. Mary told the deputation of lords who came to announce her trial: I am myself a Queen, the daughter of a King. Hermione refers to herself during her trial as a great king’s daughter [1213], and later . . . says, The Emperor of Russia was my father [1299]. Having cited several similar parallels, Everett concludes, There is, in short, enough dignity and pathos in the Jacobean (as distinct from the Elizabethan) image of Mary Stuart, to give an added interest to Shakespeare’s creation of Hermione, perhaps his queenliest heroine.

Apart from Everett, however, Wickham’s topicality seems to have attracted no supporters. Regarding the statues of the two dead queens, Smith (1972, pp. 217–18) observes: If either had anything to do with The Winter’s Tale, it would seem to be Mary’s, not Elizabeth’s; Mary could in some sense be thought to be resurrected by the investiture of her grandson as Prince of Wales. The trouble is that Mary’s statue was not finished until 1612 . . . and by this time The Winter’s Tale had been on the stage for two years. But Wickham, undismayed, says [in Heritage, 1969] the sculptors lived in Southwark . . . and Shakespeare could have dropped in at their studio any time from 1606 to 1610 to see [218] how the statue was coming. On this frail evidence we are asked to believe that Florizel represents Prince Henry. Nevertheless, these ideas are reiterated and further developed in Wickham (1973). Bullough (1975, 8:117) objects, though: It is going too far to suggest that the play figures the mystical marriage of Prince Henry (Florizel) to the three kingdoms whose original unity was lost but had been found (Perdita). . . . If there was such an allegorical intention why did not Shakespeare make Florizel (like Greene’s Dorastus) rule over two kingdoms at the end of the play? To which it might be replied that Florizel, as Perdita’s consort and Mamillius reborn, will reign over two kingdoms, although that fact will hardly save Wickham’s case.

Internal Evidence

As Furness (ed. 1898, p. 316) says, Roderick (1758, p. 225) was apparently the first to observe that the verse lines of H8 more frequently than those of other plays end in a redundant syllable. Malone (in Steevens, ed. 1778, 1:280 n.) adds that a mixture of rhyming lines and blank verse is a circumstance which seems to characterize and distinguish our poet’s earliest performance. From these beginnings developed a close study of Sh.’s style to determine, more exactly than external evidence allows, when he wrote his works.

The earliest critic to divide Sh.’s career into four periods distinguished by stylistic differences was Bathurst (1857). By the third quarter of the 19th c., one of the internal tests of chronology given by Ward (1875, 1:359–63) was versification, subdivided as follows: (a) Rhyme: Progress from more to less rhyme may be held to accompany the general progress of Shakspere as a dramatic writer. (b) Stopped and unstopped lines: A stopped line is one in which the sentence, or clause of the sentence, concludes with the line; but it is not always possible to determine what is to be regarded as the clause of the sentence, whether e.g. and is to be regarded . . . as beginning a new clause. The stopping of the sense is . . . often of more importance than the stopping of the sentence. (c) Feminine endings, or line endings with an eleventh, unaccented, syllable: While it is certain that Shakspere employed the feminine endings sparingly in many of his plays . . . regarded as early, it is certain that in those plays which on other grounds may be regarded as . . . late . . . he employed these endings largely. Ward’s examples, supplied by Fleay, include Shr. (now dated 1593–4), line 260, and WT 639, but also R3 (1592–3), line 570. The tabulations are not adjusted for the length of the plays or the proportions in them of verse and prose. And (d) Other verse tests, such as irregularities in the trimeter couplets of the early plays and, in the late plays, such carelessness as the failure to mark the caesura.

Fleay himself (1876) divides Sh.’s career into periods characterized by more or less distinct metrical features. In the last period (pp. 70–1), doggerel, alternately rhyming lines, and couplets are absent; alexandrines, with considerable variation in the position of the caesura, increase; and so do feminine endings; and so do lines of less than five measures. Fleay assigns WT (p. 136), along with Cym., Cor., Ant., and Tmp., to Sh.’s fourth (and last) period, but in a postscript (p. 138) creates a fifth period for Tmp. and WT alone. The actual date he assigns to WT is 1610–11 (p. 54) or 1611 (p. 130), 1611? having earlier been proposed by Furnivall (1874, p. xlv). Later, Fleay (1886, p. 65) decides that WT was certainly produced early this year [1610], before Jonson’s Alchemist, which was acted and entered S[tationers’] R[egister] October 3. Fleay’s techniques and conclusions raised questions immediately (see the discussion following the reading of his paper before the New Shakspere Society on 13 Mar. 1874, in Fleay, 1874), and he changed his mind as his investigations continued. In any event, his date for WT was not affected; in the 1886 work (p. 247) as in the 1874 volume (p. 10), it is 1610. By introducing this type of analysis, Fleay hoped to apply a scientific technique to the problems of Shn. chronology, but his followers proved capable of wild variations in method and conclusions, and he himself could not count.

The predilection for Shn. statistics, however, extends to Bather’s Table of Plays, According to Number of Puns (1887, p. 74), which shows a decrease in the number of puns per 100 lines from 3.97 in LLL to 0.26 in WT. As a technique for dating, the scheme is demolished by the fact that Tit. contains only 0.15 and 3H6 only 0.14. Bayfield’s (1920, pp. 402–3) verse analysis reveals that WT must have been written some years before the generally received date 1610. . . . It suggests that the performance at the Globe theatre on May 15, 1611 . . . must refer to a revival. . . . [403] [WT’s] versification is in fact of a quite different period [from that of the late plays. WT was written] near Troilus and Cressida, The Taming of the Shrew, and Timon. On the other hand, impressionistic critics who did not conduct verse tests could also reach strange conclusions. Spens (1922, p. 92), for example, suspects that all the Romances . . . were written originally by Shakespeare at the very beginning of his career, and that they were for the most part one or two act pieces forming part of a series. Mathew (1922, p. 41) agrees in part: These Plays were written first when Shakespeare was young and revised when he was mature.

The testimony of internal evidence is usually linked to the historical and practical facts of Sh.’s career, the latter being, for instance, that Sh. could not write more than a certain amount in a certain period, about two plays a year when his known work is distributed over the period during which he is believed to have been active. The distribution may also be colored by assumptions, not necessarily wrong, about Sh.’s development as a man and an artist. As Dowden (1877, pp. 37–41) puts it, We need no scientific test to make us aware that, in passing from Love’s Labour’s Lost to Hamlet, and from Hamlet to The Tempest, we pass from youth to manhood, and again from a manhood of trial and sorrow to a riper manhood of attainment and of calm. Affected by the transitions are (a) style and diction. In the earliest plays . . . the idea is at times hardly sufficient to fill out the language in which it is put; in the middle plays . . . there seems a perfect balance and equality between the thought and its expression[; in the latest] this balance is disturbed by the preponderance or excess of the ideas over the means of giving them utterance. . . . (b) The growth of Shakspere’s taste and judgment. . . . [38] (c) In the structure of the play and grouping of characters there is, in some of the early plays, a tendency to formal symmetry, an artificial setting of character over against character, and group against group. . . . Afterwards the outline of the play is drawn with a freer because a firmer hand. (d) . . . By degrees the characterisation becomes profound and refined. . . . (e) The entire reflective power deepens. . . . (f) The imagination . . . becomes passionately energetic, of daring and all-comprehensive power, as in King Lear, or lofty and sustained, with noble ideality, as in The Tempest. (g) The sympathy with human passion and the power of conceiving and dramatically rendering it in its most massive and most intense [39] forms increases. (h) . . . The humour of the dramatist . . . becomes full of grave significance, and works in conjunction with his (i) Deepening pathos. . . . (j) Finally, in moral reach, in true justice, in charity, in self-control, in all that indicate fortitude of will, the writings of the mature Shakspere excel, in an extraordinary degree, those of his younger self. These characteristics obviously cannot be quantified, but the alteration in Sh.’s verse can be. At first Shakspere has his breaks and pauses at the end of the line—the verse is end-stopt; gradually he more and more [carries] on the sense from one line to another without a pause at the end of the line [but] in some part of the line other than the end. Light and weak endings increase. The first group, in Dowden’s classification, encompasses words on which (p. 41) the voice can to a small extent dwell (am, are, be, can, could; the auxiliaries do, does, has, had; I, they, thou). The weak endings are more fugitive and evanescent . . . , including such words as and, for, from, if, in, of, or. Now weak endings hardly appear in Shakspere’s early or middle plays. . . . Nor do they come in by slow degrees at a later period. . . . In Macbeth light endings appear for the first time in considerable numbers; weak endings in considerable numbers for the first time in Antony and Cleopatra. This test serves perfectly to pick out the plays which form the group belonging to Shakspere’s last period of dramatic authorship; and within that period it probably serves to indicate nearly the precise order in which the plays were written. Dowden reproduces part of a table devised by Ingram (1874, p. 450) showing percentages of light and weak endings, from Mac. through H8, in a sequence that does not quite bear Dowden out, in that it places Tmp. earlier than Cym. and WT. Similarly, Dowden reproduces a table he attributes to Hertzberg; it shows the percentage of double, or feminine, endings increasing from LLL (4) through Tmp. and puts WT (31.09) before Cym. (32) by a whisker. Actually, the table Hertzberg published (1878, p. 252) reverses the sequence (WT 32.5), but in neither accounting is the difference great enough to establish priority. (Similar data from which similar conclusions were drawn persisted; see, for example, Neilson & Thorndike, c. 1913, pp. 69–75.)

The history of stylistic analysis and the efforts of other contributors to it are described in detail by Chambers (1930, 1:242–74). As a prelude to his own assignment of dates, he provides a thorough discussion of the problem of chronology, an evaluation of the evidence of dates, and (in 2:397–408) his own metrical tables, several of them corrected versions of Fleay’s. He believes (1:489) that the style and metre group Winter’s Tale with Cymbeline and Tempest, and it may reasonably be placed between them. A date early in 1611 is suggested by the probability that the bear of iii.3 and the dance of satyrs at [2164] were both inspired by Jonson’s mask of Oberon on 1 January 1611. For the bear, see n. 1500, and for the satyrs, n. 2164. Gray (1931, p. 148) averages the percentages of double [i.e., feminine] endings, run-on lines, and speeches ending with the line and discovers that the results for WT, Tmp., and Cym., though close to those for Cor. on the earlier side and H8 on the later, are also close to each other. Having related independent clauses to verse lines, Langworthy (1931, p. 748) gets similar results for the same plays, although his data order them as Tmp., Cym., and WT. Law (1936, pp. 50–1) tabulates the dates assigned by Adams (1923), Alden (1925), Chambers (1930), Craig (ed. 1931), Campbell (1932), Parrott (1934), and Brooke (ed. 1935). All give 1610 or 1610–11. So does Reinhold (1942, p. 87); like Oras (see below), Reinhold calculates split lines (pentameters shared by two or more speakers) as a percentage of the total lines in each play to show that their number generally increases with time. In an early statistical study, Yardi (1946) uses multiple measurements of metrical data for the discrimination of groups; the results place WT with Cym. and Tmp. but do not provide actual dates. Brainerd’s (1980) statistical study of Shn. chronology has no bearing, for WT, dated 1610.5, is a member of the test set, plays for the most part unambiguously dated.

A few recent critics dissent. Wentersdorf (1951, p. 178), combining such stylistic features as split lines, extra syllables within and at the end of lines, feminine endings, and alexandrines into a metrical index for each play, finds the three last to have been written in Chambers’s (1930) order, but he moves each work back by a year, WT to 1609–10. As Tmp. was performed at court on 1 November 1611, it would have been acted publicly at least by the summer of 1611, since public success presumably preceded the selection of any play for presentation at court. If the dance of satyrs in WT derives from Jonson’s Oberon, WT may nevertheless have been in existence prior to January 1611, when the masque was performed, and the satyrs subsequently added. It has also been suggested that the bear scene in Act iii was borrowed from . . . Mucedorus, which was revived by the King’s Men shortly before 1610. If this was the case (as the bear episode is not in Shakespeare’s source for WT), it points to an upward [i.e., anterior] time limit late in 1609. . . . Finally, the reference at [461] is sufficiently motivated by the story and in any case too general to warrant interpretation to the murder of Henri IV on 14 May 1610 (see Chambers, 1930, 2:489). Having assigned Per. to 1607–8 and Tmp. to 1610–11, Wentersdorf accordingly dates Cym. and WT 1608–9 and 1609–10, respectively. Also dissenting is Oras (1960), who studies three types of pauses in the verse of Sh. and a number of other early writers, under three heads: all pauses indicated by the internal punctuation of the earliest eds. (A-patterns); strong pauses indicated by punctuation heavier than commas (B-patterns); and lines shared by two or more speakers—split lines—(C-patterns). That the punctuation may be scribal or compositorial is recognized, but it is still considered a valid marker because its source is contemporaneous. The data are presented numerically and graphically, and although no actual dates are assigned, the patterns of Cym. and WT resemble each other more strongly than they resemble the patterns of the other works studied.

Alexander (ed. 1951, p. xv), wisely declining to be pinned down to more than an approximate order of composition, places WT, along with Per., Cym., Tmp., and H8, between 1608 and 1613. Maxwell (ed. Cym., 1960, p. xi), commenting on 1609–10 and 1610–11 for the dates of Cym. and WT, respectively: It is reasonable to associate the greater artistic assurance of The Winter’s Tale with a later date [than Cym.’s], which is also supported by the fact that Shakespeare undoubtedly knew the Boccaccio source of Cymbeline when he wrote The Winter’s Tale. I think [the 1610–11] date for The Winter’s Tale may well be a year too late. There is a fairly close verbal parallel between The Winter’s Tale [1941–7] and Philaster [4.6.2–8], which seems to me most easily explained as an echo of the former by the latter; and Philaster is not later than 8 October 1610 [see Chambers, 1923, 3:223]. To Tillyard (1938, pp. 9–10), however, the echoes seem reversed: Sh. is improving Fletcher (see n. 1941–7). In any case, as Pafford (ed. 1963, p. 97 n.) remarks, the strewing of corpses as well as bridal beds with flowers is a common idea.

As for the presence of Cym.’s source in WT, the story in question is the ninth novel of the second day of Boccaccio’s Decameron. Muir (1977, pp. 262–3) summarizes it: Some Italian merchants at an inn in Paris deride the idea of a female chastity and Bernabo of Genoa is provoked by Ambrogiuolo to bet on the chastity of his wife, Ginevra. On going to Genoa, Ambrogiuolo realizes that he cannot seduce Ginevra. Concealed in a chest, he is able to observe the pictures of her bedroom, to steal a ring and other belongings, and to observe a mole on the lady’s breast. Bernabo is convinced that he has lost the wager and he orders his servant to murder Ginevra. The servant, convinced of her innocence, spares her. She dresses in his clothes and takes service with the Soldan. One day she sees her purse and girdle in a stall in the market-place. When the truth comes to light, Ginevra reveals herself to her husband and forgives him. The villain is tortured to death: the verie same day that hee was impaled on the stake, annointed with honey, and fixed in the place appointed, to his no meane tormente: he not onely died, but likewise was deuoured to the bare [263] bones, by Flies, Waspes, and Hornets, whereof the Countrey notoriously aboundeth. As Iachimo is forgiven, this torture is not used in Cymbeline; but in The Winter’s Tale Autolycus tells the Clown [2665–72]. Smith (1972, p. 216) holds that it is generally agreed . . . that The Winter’s Tale is the later of the two [because] the use of the leftover passage about the punishment of the villain . . . suggests that The Winter’s Tale followed Cymbeline.

Earlier, however, Nosworthy (ed. Cym., 1955, pp. xvi–xvii), instead of drawing this conclusion, recognizes the possibility that Shakespeare owed the name Belarius [in Cym.] to the Bellaria of Greene’s Pandosto . . . so that the evidence can point either way. My own guess is that the composition of the two plays was more or less simultaneous or, at any rate, that both had been written, revised and prepared for the stage before either was actually performed, with consequent cross-fertilisation. This view . . . tallies with the attractive theory, put forward by [Bentley, 1948], that the impending acquisition of the Blackfriars private theatre led, in the Spring and Summer of 1608, to discussions among the King’s Players as a result of which Shakespeare was henceforth to write with the Blackfriars in mind, and not the Globe, and that [Cym., WT, and Tmp.,] in that [xvii] order, were the fruits of that decision. Bentley says nothing about their respective dates, but the application of his theory would . . . suggest 1608 for the first play of the series. Recalling that it was at the public theater that Forman saw WT, Nosworthy demurs at and not the Globe, preferring to think that after his company acquired the Blackfriars theater in 1608, Sh. wrote dual-purpose plays, for such, most emphatically and triumphantly, the Romances are. If Cym., the first play of the series, was composed in 1608, 1608–9 would presumably be the date of WT. Although Pafford (ed. 1963, p. xxiii) does not deal explicitly with Nosworthy’s idea, he comments: The language, style, and spirit of the play all point to a late date. The tangled speech, the packed sentences, speeches which begin and end in the middle of a line, and the high percentage of light and weak endings are all marks of Shakespeare’s writing at the end of his career. But of more importance than verse tests is the similarity of the last plays in spirit and themes. . . . Practically all authorities . . . accept, with minor variations, the approximate dates given by Chambers [i.e., 1610–11]. Those who do not follow Chambers may instead favor Wentersdorf—for example, Fitch (1981, p. 300), who, in a revival of sense-pause investigation, decides on 1609–10.

Summary

A comprehensive reexamination of the internal evidence of WT’s date is made by Taylor (in Wells & Taylor, pp. 93–109). Among the data included are the percentage of rhyme to verse and to prose; colloquialisms in verse (e.g., i’th’, ’em, ’ll, I’m), which show that Shakespeare’s reversion to an antiquated dramatic form [the romance] apparently coincides with some backsliding toward a less colloquial poetry (p. 101); and a revision of Wentersdorf’s metrical indices and Oras’s pause patterns. Taylor concludes (p. 107) that although minor ambiguities remain about the order of particular plays, we can be reasonably confident about the shape of the canon after about 1597. Nevertheless, recent eds. differ to some extent, as the following comparison shows (see table).

Chambers (1930) is included because his chronology was accepted by many eds. until recently; all his dates given here are reiterated by McManaway (1950). Lr. is present because Taylor holds that the text of that play included in F1 is a revision of the text that first appeared in the quarto of 1608 substantial enough to constitute a new creation. Cardenio is a play based on a story in Don Quixote and thought to be by Shakespeare and Fletcher (as are H8 and TNK). As Chambers (1930, 1:539) notes: A play of Cardenno or Cardenna was given by the King’s men at court in the winter of 1612–13. It was acted in 1727 under the title Double Falsehood and printed in 1728 as Written Originally by W. Shakespeare; And now Revised and Adapted to the Stage by Mr. Theobald. Bevington’s WT range is an innovation for him; his previous editions of the Works (1973 and 1980) substantially agree with Chambers and with Evans (c. 1610–11). He appears to have extended these dates on the chance that Taylor may be right, a question that critics of Lr. will have to decide. As it now stands, however, c. 1610–11 is as close as one can come to the date of WT.

A Comparison of Four Chronologies

Chambers 1930 Evans ed. 1974 Taylor 1987 Bevington ed. 1992
Per. 1608–9 1607–8 1607 1606–8
Cym. 1609–10 1609–10 1610 c. 1608–10
WT 1610–11 1610–11 1609 c. 1609–11
Lr. rev. 1610
Tmp. 1611–12 1611 1611 c. 1611
H8 1612–13 1612–13 1612–13
Cardenio 1612–13 1612–13
TNK 1612–13 1613 1613–14 1613–16

Sources

Primary Source

Pandosto

The first ed. of WT to quote extensively from Pandosto to illustrate Sh.’s dependence was Malone (ed. 1790). Recognition of WT’s source preceded Malone by a century, however. Langbaine (1691, p. 466): The Plot of this Play may be read in a little Stitch-pamphlet, which is call’d, as I remember, The Delectable History of Dorastus and Fawnia, otherwise Pandosto, by Robert Greene. Rowe (ed. 1709, 1:xxvii–xxviii): The Winter’s Tale . . . contains the space of sixteen or seventeen Years, and the Scene [xxviii] is sometimes laid in Bohemia, and sometimes in Sicily, according to the original Order of the Story. Gildon (1710, p. 336): Whence I suppose the Absurdities are copyed, and the making Bohemia of an Inland, a maritime Country. The opinion of Grey (1754, 1:244) that Dorastus and Faunia is of a more modern date [than WT], and borrow’d from Shakespeare was refuted by Farmer (in Steevens, ed. 1778). Farmer reported a copy of Pandosto with a publication date of 1588, considerably before any date proposed for Sh.’s play.

On 1 July 1588, A booke intitled the complaint of tyme was entered in the Register of the Company of Stationers to Thomas Orwin (Arber, 1875–94, 2:493). Pandosto. The Triumph of Time was printed by Orwin for the stationer Thomas Cadman (RSTC [3:277] 12285); The Historie of Dorastus and Fawnia is its head title. The discrepancy between the title as given in the Register and the title as published creates some uncertainty that the entry pertains to the novel (see Wells, 1988, pp. xxx–xxxi); even so, there is no reason to doubt that the novel appeared in 1588. It was frequently reprinted—in 1592, 1595, 1600 (RSTC 12287.5, a single copy in the Biblioteka Gdanska), 1607, 1609, 1614, 1619, 1621 (a single copy in the Vienna National Library, located by Wells; not in RSTC), 1629, 1632, 1632–6 (date cropped; see Wells, p. xxxviii), 1636, and c. 1640 (date cropped; see Allison, 1975, no. 84). Wells (pp. xl–xlii) identifies eleven more editions of Pandosto, including an abridgment, published from 1648 to the end of the century and seven or eight more complete eds. and abridgments from about 1700 to 1735; uncertainties in the tabulation arise from difficulties in distinguishing the eds. and in dating them. The title pages of eds. 1588 through 1632 carry as a subtitle The Triumph of Time; in eds. 1636 and following, the earlier title and subtitle are replaced by The Pleasant Historie of Dorastus and Fawnia, the title Langbaine was thinking of.

Jusserand (1890; 1966, p. 155): The novel had an immense success, much greater according to appearances than the exquisite drama of a Winter’s Tale, that Shakespeare drew from it. Collier (1836, p. 19 n.) alleges that the 1609 ed. is probably the very one used by our great Dramatist. In a subsequent work, Collier (ed. 1842, 3:476 n.) declares that in eds. of Pandosto published after 1588, the oracle’s words are the king shall live without an heire, whereas in 1588 the word is die. He settled on 1609 rather than an earlier ed. because it is the one that most immediately preceded the writing of WT. The actual situation, according to Wells (1988, p. 128), is that the eds. of 1588, 1592, and 1595 read liue, as Sh. does (WT 1315), whereas 1609 and subsequent eds. read die. Muir (1957, p. 240) asserts that Sh. used the 1588 ed., but, as Wells remarks, Muir evidently did not know that the 1592 and 1595 eds. existed. Since Sh. did not reproduce a unique feature of any of these eds., the specific one he consulted cannot be ascertained. Moreover, Coggins (1980) argues that there seems to have been a 1584 ed., no copies of which are known to have survived.

Later versions of Pandosto are found in Lennox (1753), a paraphrase; Collier, Shakespeare’s Library, vol. 1 (1843; 1875); NUC lists an ed. from the 1840s, possibly a separate issue of the Collier text, which seems not to be noticed elsewhere; an ed. of 1858, according to S. A. Tannenbaum & D. A. Tannenbaum, Elizabethan Bibliographies: Robert Greene [1939], possibly the version in Halliwell (ed. 1859); A. B. Grosart, The Life and Complete Works of Robert Greene, vol. 4 (188?); Morley (ed. 1887), an abridgment; Anon., Pandosto, or The Historie of Dorastus and Fawnia, by Robert Greene (New Rochelle, 1902); Thomas (ed. Pandosto, 1907); James Winny, The Descent of Euphues (Cambridge, 1957); Bullough (1975); and Wells (ed. Pandosto, 1988, but finished in 1962). Eds. of WT containing Pandosto include those of Halliwell, Morley (1887), Furness (ed. 1898), and Pafford (1963).

According to Bolte (Schlussscene, 1891, p. 90), the novel provided material for a French play and a Dutch play: Jean Puget de La Serre’s Pandoste ou la Princesse malheureuse, en deux journées (Paris, 1631), which was performed at the Hôtel de Bourgogne in 1631; and Meynert Voskuyl’s Dorastus en Fauniaas (Amsterdam, 1637). The British Library Catalogue also lists Voskuyl’s Bellaria en Pandostos (Amstrelredam, 1637). Thomas (1907, p. xix) reports that a French version by Alexandre Hardy, who wrote several pastoral plays, is now lost. Jusserand (in Lee, ed. 1907, pp. xxviii–xxix) gives further details: The first translation was printed at Paris, chez Guillaume Marette, in 1615, under the title of Histoire tragique de Pandosto roy de Bohême et de Bellaria sa femme. Ensemble les amours de Dorastus et de Faunia. . . . [xxix] Le tout traduit premièrement en Anglois de la langue Bohême, et de nouveau mis en françois par L. Regnault. . . . The translation [takes] a good many liberties . . . with the text (some voluntary, others not). . . . To the supposed Bohemian original there is no further allusion. One adaptation, Le roman d’Albanie et de Sycile par le Sr du Bail gentil-homme Poict[evin], appeared in 1626, and another, Histoire de Pandolphe, roy de Bohême et de Cellaria sa femme, in 1722. Jusserand also supplies (pp. xxxvi–xxxix) the sketches made by the stage decorator [xxxvii] Mahelot for the scenery used in the performance of Hardy’s dramatic version.

A derivative in blank verse, Francis Sabie’s The Fissher-mans Tale (RSTC 21535), appeared in 1595, some copies being issued as a part of Sabie’s Pans Pipe, three eclogues in hexameters; and The Fissher-mans Tale was followed by a second part, Flora’s Fortune (RSTC 21536), also in 1595. These poems were reprinted by Halliwell (ed. 1859, 8:127–60)—possibly from a defective copy, since the extracts, as he calls his text, run from line 632 of The Fissher-mans Tale to the end of Flora’s Fortune.

Pandosto of 1588 collates A–G4. The one surviving copy, located in the British Library, lacks the four leaves of sig. B; the missing text is supplied here by the edition of 1592, Folger Shakespeare Library. In the following reprint, the black letter of these eds. is rendered as roman and the roman as italic. The Epitaph (here) is italic in ed. 1588. Most ornaments are ignored. Macrons and abbreviations of the, and, that, and with have been expanded. The two- and three-line initials beginning certain paragraphs are reduced to regular capitals, turned letters are returned, and the white space preceding and following some lines of dialogue has been removed. Footnotes show the origin of emendations of the 1588 and 1592 texts; the spelling of the emendations has been altered occasionally to accord with that of the copy-text. Asterisks in the text call attention to the footnotes. In the notes, a wavy dash in the variant reading repeats the word of the lemma in the corresponding position; the caret indicates absence of punctuation.

Important points of comparison and contrast between Greene’s novel and Sh.’s play, and representative commentary on them, may be found in the following notes: 3370, 3371, 3378, 3379, 3381, 3382, 3388, 14–16, 50–1, 121–3, 181–92, 234, 269–72, 285–8, 288, 410, 450–1, 455–66, 461, 468–81, 565, 582, 583, 648, 715–19, 798–805, 800, 938–41, 980, 1016–17, 1062, 1111–15, 1134, 1147, 1173, 1191–5, 1202–6, 1219–21, 1222–4, 1263, 1280, 1293, 1299, 1347–8, 1366–85, 1437, 1440, 1486, 1507, 1509–10, 1512, 1559, 1596–8, 1691–2, 1795, 1798–9, 1798, 1799, 1826–36, 1828–32, 2240, 2263, 2408, 2512, 2630, 2724, 2915, 2926, 2995, 2998, 3032, 3061. Passages of the novel referred to in these commentary notes are here preceded by bracketed TLN numbers of those notes, inserted into the text. In addition, TLN numbers for some other lines in WT, which correspond to passages in Pandosto but are not discussed in the notes, are likewise inserted here into the text before the corresponding passages of the novel.

Pandosto.

¶The Triumph

of Time.

Wherein is Discovered

by a pleasant Historie, that although by the meanes

of sinister fortune Truth may be concea­

led, yet by Time in spight of fortune it

is most manifestly reuealed.

Pleasant for age to auoyde drowsie thoughtes,

profitable for youth to eschue other wanton

pastimes, and bringing to both a de­

sired content.

Temporis filia veritas.

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit vtile dulci.

[ornament]

Imprinted at London by Thomas Orwin for Thomas

Cadman
, dwelling at the Signe of the Bible, neere

vnto the North doore of Paules,

1588.

To the Gentlemen Rea­

ders Health.

[A1v]

The paultring Poet Aphranius being blamed for troublinge the Emperor Traian with so many doting Poems: aduentured notwithstanding, stil to present him with rude and homely verses, excusing himselfe

himselfe]  ~  1595; himfelfe 1588
with the courtesie of the Emperour, which did as friendly accept, as he fondly offerd. So Gentlemen, if any condemne my rashnesse for troubling your eares with so many vnlearned Pamphlets: I will straight shroud my selfe vnder the shadowe of your courtesies, and with Aphranius lay the blame on you aswell for frendly reading them, as on my selfe for fondly penning them: Hoping though fond curious, or rather currish backbiters breathe out slaunderous speeches: yet the courteous Readers (whom I feare to offend) wil requite my trauell, at the least with silence: and in this hope I rest: wishing you health and happines.

Robert Greene.

TO THE RIGHT HO­

norable George Clifford Earle of Cumber­

land, Robert Greene wisheth increase

of honour and vertue.

[A2]

The Rascians (right honorable) when by long gazing against the Sunne, they become halfe blinde, recouer their sightes by looking on the blacke Loade stone. Vnicornes being glutted with brousing on roots of Licquoris, sharpen their stomacks with crushing bitter grasse.

Alexander vouchsafed as well to smile at the croked picture of Vulcan, as to wonder at the curious counterfeite of Venus. The minde is sometimes delighted as much with small trifles as with sumptuous triumphs, and as wel pleased with hearing of Pans homely fancies, as of Hercules renowmed laboures.

Syllie Baucis could not serue Iupiter in a siluer plate, but in a woodden dish. Al that honour Esculapius, decke not his shrine with Iewels. Apollo giues Oracles as wel to the poore man for his mite, as to the rich man for his treasure. The stone Echites is not so much liked for the colour, as for vertue, and giftes are not to be measured by the worth, but by the will. Mison that vnskilfull Painter of Greece, aduentured to giue vnto Darius the shielde of Pallas, so roughlie shadowed, as he smiled more at the follie of the man, then at the imperfection of his arte. So I present vnto your honour the triumph of time, so rudelie finished, as I feare your honour wil rather frowne at my impudencie, then laugh at my ignorancie: But I hope my willing minde shal excuse my slender skill, and your honours curtesie shadowe my rashnes.

[A2v]
They which feare the biting of vipers doe carie in their hands the plumes of a Phœnix. Phydias drewe Vulcan sitting in a chaire of Iuory. Caesars Crow durst neuer cry, Aue, but when she was pearked on the Capitoll. And I seeke to shroude this imperfect Pamphlet vnder your honours patronage, doubting the dint of such inuenomed vipers, as seeke with their slaunderous
slaunderous]  ~  1592; slaunderours 1588
reproches to carpe at al, being oftentims, most vnlearned of all: and assure my selfe, that your honours renowmed valure, and vertuous disposition shall be a sufficient defence to protect me from the Poysoned tongues of such scorning Sycophants, hoping that as Iupiter vouchsafed to lodge in Philemons thatched Cotage: and Phillip of Macedon, to take a bunche of grapes of a country pesant: so I hope your honour, measuring my worke by my will, and wayghing more the mind than the matter, will when you haue cast a glaunce at this toy, with Minerua, vnder your golden Target couer a deformed Owle. And in this hope I rest, wishing vnto you, and the vertuous Countesse your wife: such happy successe as your honours can desire, or I imagine.

Your Lordships most duetifully to com­

maunde
:
Robert Greene.

The Historie of

Dorastus and

Fawnia.

[A3]

Among al the Passions wherewith humane mindes are perplexed, there is none that so galleth with restlesse despight, as that infectious soare of Iealousie: for all other griefes are eyther to bee appeased with sensible perswasions, to be cured with wholesome counsel, to be relieved in want, or by tract of time to be worne out, (Iealousie only excepted) which is so sawsed with suspitious doubtes, and pinching mistrust, that whoso seekes by friendly counsaile to rase out this hellish passion, it foorthwith suspecteth that he geueth this aduise to couer his owne guiltinesse. Yea, who so is payned with this restlesse torment doubteth all, dystrusteth him-selfe, is alwayes frosen with feare, and fired with suspition, hauing that wherein consisteth all his ioy, to be the breeder of his miserie. Yea, it is such a heauy enemy to that holy estate of matrimony, sowing betweene the married couple

couple]  ~  Wells (1988); couples 1588
such deadly seedes of secret hatred, as Loue being once rased out by spightful distrust, there oft ensueth bloudy reuenge, as this ensuing Hystorie manifestly prooueth: wherein Pandosto (furiously incensed by causelesse Iealousie) procured the death of his most louing and loyall wife, and his owne endlesse sorrow and misery.

In the Countrey of Bohemia there raygned a King called Pandosto, whose fortunate successe in warres against his foes, and bountifull curtesie towardes his friendes in peace, made him to be greatly feared and loued of all men. This Pandosto had to Wife a Ladie called Bellaria, by birth royall, learned by education, faire by nature, by vertues famous, so that it was hard to iudge whether her beautie, fortune, or vertue, wanne the greatest

[A3v]
commendations. These two lincked together in perfect loue, led their liues with such fortunate content, that their Subiects greatly reioyced to see their quiet disposition. They had not beene married long, but Fortune (willing to increase their happines) lent them a sonne, so adorned with the gifts of nature, as the perfection of the Childe greatly augmented the loue of the parentes, and the ioy of their commons: in so much that the Bohemians, to shewe their inward ioyes by outwarde actions, made [tln 3032] Bonefires and triumphs throughout all the Kingdome, appointing Iustes and Turneyes for the honour of their young Prince: whether resorted not only his Nobles, but also diuers Kings and Princes which were his neighbours, willing to shewe their friendship they ought to Pandosto, and to win fame and glory by their prowesse and valour. Pandosto, whose minde was fraught with princely liberality, entertayned the Kings, Princes, and noble men with such submisse curtesie, and magnifical bounty, that they all sawe how willing he was to gratifie their good wils, making a generall feast for his Subiects, which continued by the space of twentie dayes: all which time the Iustes and Turneys were kept to the great content both of the Lordes and Ladies there present. This solemne tryumph being once ended, the assembly taking their leaue of Pandosto and Bellaria: the young sonne (who was called [see n. 3382] Garinter) was nursed vp in the house, to the great ioy and content of the parents. Fortune enuious of such happy successe, willing to shewe some signe of her inconstancie, turned her wheele, and darkned their bright sun of prosperitie, with the mistie cloudes of mishap and misery. For it so happened that Egistus King of Sycilia, [tln 25–7] who in his youth had bene brought vp with Pandosto, desirous to shewe that [tln 27–33] neither tracte of time, nor distance of place could diminish their former friendship, prouided a nauie of ships, and [tln 50, 1147, 1440] sayled into Bohemia to visite his old friend and companion, who hearing of his arriuall, went himselfe in person, and his wife Bellaria, accompanied with a great traine of Lords and Ladies, to meet Egistus: and espying him, alighted from his horse, embraced him very louingly, protesting that nothing in the world could haue happened more acceptable to him then his comming, [tln 1238–40] wishing his wife to welcome his olde friend and acquaintance: who (to shewe how she liked him whom her husband loued) inter-
[A4]
tayned him with such familiar curtesie, as Egistus perceiued himselfe to bee verie well welcome. After they had thus saluted and embraced eche other, they mounted againe on horsbacke, and [tln 121–3] rode toward the Citie, deuising and recounting, howe being children they had passed their youth in friendely pastimes: where, by the meanes of the Citizens, Egistus was receyued with triumphs and showes in such sort, that he maruelled how on so small a warning they coulde make such preparation. Passing the streetes thus with such rare sightes, they rode on to the Pallace, where [tln 14–16] Pandosto entertained Egistus and his Sycilians with such banqueting and sumptuous cheare, so royally, as they all had cause to commend his princely liberality, yea, the verie basest slaue that was knowne to come from Sycilia was used with such curtesie, that Egistus might easily perceiue how both hee and his were honored for his friendes sake. [tln 181–92] Bellaria (who in her time was the flower of curtesie)
curtesie)]  ~  1595;  ~ , 1588
willing to show how unfaynedly shee looued her husband by his friends intertainement, used him likewise so familiarly, that her countenance bewraied how her minde was affected towardes him: oftentimes comming her selfe into his bed chamber, to see that nothing should be amis to mislike him. This honest familiarity increased dayly more and more betwixt them; for Bellaria noting in Egistus a princely and bountifull minde, adorned with sundrie and excellent qualities, and Egistus, finding in her a vertuous and curteous disposition, there grew such a secret vniting of their affections, that the one could not well be without the company of the other: in so much that when Pandosto was busied with such vrgent affaires, that hee could not bee present with his friend Egistus, [tln 260] Bellaria would walke with him into the Garden, where they two in priuat and pleasant deuises would passe away the time to both their contents. This custome still continuing betwixt them, a certaine [tln 181–92] melancholy passion entring the minde of Pandosto, draue him into sundry and doubtfull thoughts. First, he called to minde the beauty of his wife Bellaria, the comelines and brauerie of his friend Egistus, thinking that Loue was aboue all Lawes, and therefore to be staied with no Law: that it was hard to put fire and flaxe together without burning: that their open pleasures might breede his secrete displeasures. He considered with himselfe that Egistus was a man, and must needes loue: that his wife was a woman,
[A4v]
and therfore subiect vnto loue, and that where fancy forced, friendship was of no force. These and such like doubtfull thoughtes a long time smoothering in his stomacke, beganne at last to kindle in his minde a secret mistrust, which increased by suspition, grewe at last to a flaming Iealousie, that so tormented him as [tln 900] he could take no rest. He then began to measure all their actions, and to misconstrue of their too priuate familiaritie, iudging that it was not for honest affection, but for disordinate fancy, so that hee began to watch them more narrowely, to see if hee could gette any true or certaine proofe to confirme his doubtfull suspition. While thus he noted their lookes and gestures, and suspected their thoughtes and meaninges, they two seely soules who doubted nothing of this his treacherous intent, frequented daily eache others companie, which draue him into such a franticke passion, that he beganne to beare a secret hate to Egistus, and a lowring countenaunce to Bellaria, [tln 227] who marueiling at such vnaccustomed frowns, began to cast beeyond the Moone, and to enter into a thousand sundrie thoughtes, which way she should offend her husband: but finding in her selfe a cleare conscience, ceassed to muse, vntil such time as she might find fit opportunitie to demaund the cause of his dumps. In the meane time Pandostoes minde was so farre charged with Iealousy, that he did no longer doubt, but was assured (as he thought) that his Friend Egistus had entered a wrong pointe in his tables, and so had [tln 269–72] played him false play: wherupon desirous to reuenge so great an iniury, he thought best to dissemble the grudge with a faire and friendly countenance: and so vnder the shape of a friend, to shew him the tricke of a foe. Deuising with himself a long time how he might best put away Egistus without suspition of treacherous murder, hee concluded at last to poyson him: which opinion pleasing his humour, he became resolute in his determination, and the better to bring the matter to passe he called vnto him [tln 446] his cupbearer, with whom in secret he brake the matter: promising to him for the performance thereof, to geue him a thowsande crownes of yearely reuenues: his cupbearer eyther being of a good conscience, or willing for fashion sake, to deny such a bloudy request, began with great reasons to perswade Pandosto from his determinate mischief: shewing him what an offence murther was to the Gods: how such vnnaturall actions did more displease the heauens, than
[B1, 1592]
men: and that causeles crueltie did seldome or neuer escape without reuenge: he layd before his face, that Egistus was his friend, [tln 461] a king, and one that was come into his kingdome, to confirme a league of perpetuall amitie betwixt them, that he had and did shew him a most friendly countenaunce, how Egistus was not onely honored of his owne people by obedience, but also loued of the Bohemians for his curtesie. And that if now he should without any iust or manifest cause, poyson him, it would not only be a great dishonor to his Maiesty, and a meanes to sow perpetuall enmitie betweene the Sycilians and the Bohemians, but also his owne subiectes would repine at such trecherous crueltie. These and such like perswasions of [tln 410] Franion (for so was his cupbearer called) [tln 371–432] could no whit preuaile to disswade him from his deuilish enterprise, but remaining resolute in his determination, his furie so fiered with rage, as it could not be appeased with reason: he began with bitter taunts to take vp his man, and to lay before him two baytes: preferment, and death: saying that if he would poyson Egistus, he should [tln 459–60] aduaunce him to high dignities: [tln 450–1] if he refused to do it of an obstinate minde, no torture should be to great to requite his disobedience. Franion seeing, that to perswade Pandosto any more, was but to striue against the streame: [tln 433–52] consented as soone as oportunity would giue him leaue to dispatch Egistus, wherewith Pandosto remained somwhat satisfied, hoping now he should be fully reuenged of such mistrusted iniuries, intending also [tln 440–2] assoone as Egistus was dead, to giue his wife a sop of the same sawce, and so be rid of those which were the cause of his restles sorrow. While thus he liued in this hope, Franion beeing secret in his chamber, began to meditate with himselfe in these termes.

Ah Franion, treason is loued of many, but the traitor hated of all: vniust offences may for a time escape without danger, but neuer without reuenge, thou art seruant to a king, and must obey at commaund: yet Franion, against law and conscience, it is not good to resist a tyrant with armes, nor to please an vniust king with obedience. What shalt thou do? Folly refuseth

refuseth]  ~  Wells (1988); refused 1592
[B1v, 1592]
gold, and frensie preferment, wisedome seeketh after dignitie, and counsel looketh for gayne. Egistus is a stranger, to thee, and Pandosto thy soueraigne: thou hast little cause to respect the one, and oughtest to haue great care to obey the other. Thinke this Franion, that a pound of gold is worth a tunne of lead, great gifts are little Gods, and preferment to a meane man, is a whetstone to courage: there is nothing sweeter than promotion, nor lighter than report: care not then though most count thee a traytor, so all cal thee rich. Dignitie (Franion) aduaunceth thy posteritie, and euill report can hurt but thy selfe. Know this, where Eagles build, Faulcons may pray: where Lyons haunt, Foxes may steale. Kings are knowen to commaunde, seruaunts are blamelesse to consent: feare not thou then to lift at Egistus, Pandosto shall beare the burthen. Yea but Franion, conscience is a worme that euer biteth, but neuer ceaseth: that which is rubbed with the stone Galactites will neuer be hot. Flesh dipped in the sea Ægeum, will neuer be sweete: the hearbe Tragion, being once bit with an Aspis neuer groweth, and conscience once stayned with innocent bloud, is alwayes tyed to a guiltie remorse. Preferre thy content before riches, and a cleare mind before dignitie: so being poore thou shalt haue rich peace, or els rich, thou shalt enioy disquiet.

Franion hauing muttered out these or such like words, seeing either he must dye with a cleare minde, or liue with a spotted conscience: he was so [tln 455–66] combered with diuers cogitations that hee could take no rest, vntill at last he determined to breake the matter to Egistus, but fearing that the king should either suspect or heare of such matters, he concealed the deuise till oportunitie would permit him to reueale it. Lingring thus in doubtfull feare, in an euening he went to Egistus lodging, and desirous to breake with him of certaine affaires that touched the king, after all were commaunded out of the chamber: Franion made manifest the whole conspiracie, which Pandosto had deuised against him, desiring Egistus not to accompt him a traytor for bewraying his maisters counsell, but to thinke that he did it for conscience, hoping that although his maister inflamed with rage, or incensed by some sinister reportes, or slaunderous

[B2, 1592]
speaches, had imagined such causelesse mischief: yet when time should pacifie his anger, and trie those talebearers but flattering Parasites, then he would count him as a faithfull seruaunt, that with such care had kept his maisters credit. Egistus had not fully heard Franion tell forth his tale, but [tln 574] a quaking feare possessed all his limmes, thinking that there was some treason wrought, and that Franion did but shadow his craft with these false colours: wherefore he began to waxe in choler, and sayd that [tln 468–81] he doubted not Pandosto, sith he was his friend, and there had neuer as yet bene any breach of amitie: he had not sought to inuade his lands, to conspire with his enemies, to disswade his subiectes from their allegance: but in word and thought he rested his at all times: he knew not therfore any cause that should moue Pandosto to seeke his death, but suspected it to be a compacted knauery of the Bohemians, to bring the king and him at oddes. Franion staying him in the midst of his talke, told him that to dally with Princes was with the swannes to sing agaynst their death, and that if the Bohemians had intended any such secret mischief, it might haue bene better brought to passe then by reuealing the conspiracie: therefore his Maiestie did ill to misconstrue of his good meaning, sith his intent was to hinder treason, not to become a traytor and to confirme his premises, if it please his Maiestie to flee into Sycilia for the safegard of his life, he would goe with him: and if then he found not such a practise to be pretended, let his imagined trecherie be repayed with most monstrous torments. Egistus hearing the solemne protestation of Franion: began to consider, that in loue and kingdomes, neither faith, nor law is to bee respected: doubting that Pandosto thought by his death to destroy his men, and with speedy warre to inuade Sycilia: these and such doubtes throughly weighed, he gaue great thankes to Franion, promising if he might with life returne to Syracusa, that he would create him a Duke in Sycilia: crauing his counsell how he might escape out of the countrey. Franion, who hauing [tln 565] some small skill in Nauigation, was well acquainted with the Portes and Hauens, and knew euery daunger in the Sea, ioyning in counsell with the Maister of Egistus Nauie, rigged all their
[B2v, 1592]
ships, and setting them a floate let them lye at anker, to be in the more readinesse when time and wind should serue. Fortune although blind, yet by chance fauoring this iust cause, sent them [tln 582] within 6. dayes a good gale of wind, which Franion seeing fit for their purpose, to put Pandosto
Pandosto]  ~  1595; Pandasto 1592
out of suspition, the night before they should saile, he went to him and promised, that the next day he would put the deuise in practise, for he had got such a forcible poyson as the very smell thereof should procure sodaine death. Pandosto
Pandosto]  ~  1607; Pandasto 1592
was ioyfull to heare this good newes and thought euery houre a day till he might be glutted with bloudy reuenge, but his suite had but ill successe: for Egistus fearing that delay might breede daunger, and willing that the grasse should not be cut from vnder his feete, taking [tln 285–8, 288] bagge and baggage with the helpe of Franion, [tln 554–5, 649–53] conueyed himself and his men out of a posterne gate of the Citie so secretly, and speedely, that without any suspition they got to the sea shoare, where, with many a bitter curse taking their leaue of Bohemia, they went aboord, weighing their Ancres: and hoysting sayle, they passed as fast as winde and sea would permit towardes Sycilia; Egistus being a ioyfull man, that he had safely past such trecherous perils. But as they were quietly floating
floating]  ~  1607; flouting 1592
on the sea, so Pandosto and his Citizens were in an vprore: for seeing that the Sycilians without taking their leaue were fled away by night, the Bohemians feared some treason, and [tln 628–32] the king thought that without question his suspition was true, seeing his cup-bearer had bewrayed the summe of his secret pretence: whereupon [tln 643–9, 693–4] he began to imagine, that Franion and his wife Bellaria had conspired with Egistus, and that the feruent affection she bare him, was the onely meanes of his secret departure, in so much that incensed with rage, he commaunded that his wife should be carried to straight prison, untill they heard further of his pleasure. The guarde vnwilling to lay their hands on such a vertuous Princesse, and yet fearing the kings furie, went very sorrowfully to fulfill their charge, [tln 583] comming to the Queenes lodging, they found her playing with her young sonne Garinter, vnto whom with teares doing the message: Bellaria astonished at such a hard censure, and finding her cleare conscience a sure aduocate to pleade in her case, went to the prison most willingly: where [tln 715–19] with sighs and teares,
[B3, 1592]
she past away the time till she might come to her triall.

But Pandosto, whose reason was suppressed with rage, and whose vnbridled folly was incensed with furie: seeing Franion had bewrayed his secrets, and that Egistus might wel be rayled on, but not reuenged: [tln 901–8] determined to wreake all his wrath on poore Bellaria, he therfore caused a generall Proclamation to be made through all his Realme, that the Queene and Egistus had by the helpe of Franion not only committed most incestuous adulterie, but also had conspired the Kings death: Wherupon the Traitor Franion was fled away with Egistus, and Bellaria was most iustly imprisoned. This Proclamation being once [tln 1280] blazed through the countrey [tln 1164–5], although the vertuous disposition of the Queene did halfe discredit the contents: yet [tln 583] the sodaine and speedie passage of Egistus, and the secret departure of Franion induced them (the circumstances throughly considered) to thinke that both the Proclamation was true, and the King greatly iniured: yet [tln 734–71] they pitied her case, as sorowful that so good a Ladie should be crossed with such aduerse Fortune. But the King, whose restlesse rage would admit no pity, thought that although he might sufficiently requite his wiues falshood with the bitter plague of [tln 648] pinching penurie, yet his minde should neuer be glutted with reuenge, till he might haue fit time and oportunitie to repay the treacherie of

of]  ~  1607; om. 1592
Egistus with a fatall iniurie. But a curst Cow hath oft times short hornes, and a willing mind, but a weake arme: for Pandosto although he felt, that reuenge was a spurre to warre, and that enuie alwayes proffereth steele, yet he saw, that Egistus was not onely of great puissance, and prowesse to withstand him, but [tln 921–2] had also many Kings of his alliance to ayde him, if neede should serue: for [tln 1299] he married the Emperours
Emperours]  ~  1595; Emperous 1592
daughter of Russia. These and such like considerations something daunted Pandosto his courage, so, that he was content rather to put vp a manifest iniurie with peace, than hunt after reuenge with dishonor and losse: determining since Egistus had escaped scotfree, that Bellaria should pay for all at an vnreasonable price.

Remaining thus resolute in this determination, Bellaria continuing still in prison, and hearing the contents of the Proclamation, knowing that her mind was neuer touched with

[B3v, 1592]
such affection, nor that Egistus had euer offered her such discurtesie, would gladly haue come to her answer, that both she might haue knowne her vniust accusers, and cleared her selfe of that guiltlesse crime.

But Pandosto was so enflamed with rage, and infected with Iealousie as he would not vouchsafe to heare her nor admit any iust excuse, so that she was faine to make a vertue of her neede, and with patience to beare these heauie iniuries. As thus she lay crossed with calamities (a great cause to increase her griefe) she found her selfe quicke with childe: which assoone as she felt stir in her bodie, she burst foorth into bitter teares, exclaiming against fortune in these tearmes.

Alas Bellaria, how infortunate art thou because fortunat, better hadst thou bene borne a begger than a Prince: so shouldest thou haue bridled Fortune with want, where now she sporteth her selfe with thy plentie. Ah happy life where poore thoughts, and meane desires liue in secure content, not fearing Fortune because too low for

low for]  ~  Collier (1843); low. For 1592
fortune, thou seest now Bellaria, that care is a companion to honor, not to pouertie, that high Cædars are frushed [broken, snapped] with tempests, when low shrubs are not toucht with the wind: precious Diamonds are cut with the file, when despised peables lie safe in the sand: Delphos is sought to by Princes, not beggers: and Fortunes altars smoke with Kings presents, not with poore mens gifts. Happy are such Bellaria, that curse Fortune for contempt, not feare, and may wish they were, not sorrow they haue bene. Thou art a Princesse, Bellaria, and yet a prisoner, borne to the one by discent, assigned to the other by despite, accused without cause, and therefore oughtest to die without care: for patience is a shield against Fortune, and a guiltlesse mind yeeldeth not to sorow. Ah, but Infamie galleth vnto death, and liueth after death: Report is plumed with Times feathers, and Enuie oftentimes soundeth Fames trumpet: thy suspected adulterie shall fly in the aire, and thy knowne vertues shall ly hid in the earth: one Moale stayneth a whole face, and what is once spotted with Infamy can hardly be worne out with time. Die then Bellaria, Bellaria die: for if the Gods should say thou art guiltlesse,
[B4, 1592]
yet enuie would heare the Gods, but neuer beleeue the Gods. Ah haplesse wretch, cease these tearmes: desperat thoughts are fit for them that feare shame, not for such as hope for credite. Pandosto hath darkned thy fame, but shal neuer discredit thy vertues. Suspition may enter a false action, but proofe shall neuer put in his plea: care not then for enuie, sith report hath a blister on her tongue: and let sorrow bite them which offend, not touch thee that art faultlesse. But alas poore soule, howe canst thou but sorrow? Thou art with child, and by him that in steed of kind pitie pincheth thee in cold prison. And with that such gasping sighes so stopped her breath, that she could not vtter any mo words, but wringing her hands, and gushing foorth streames of teares, she passed away the time with bitter complaints.

The Iaylor pitying these her heauy passions, thinking that if the king knew she were with child, he would somwhat appease his furie, and release her from prison went in all hast, and certified Pandosto what the effect of Bellarias complaint was: who no sooner heard the Iaylour say she was with child, but as one possessed with a phrensie, he rose vp in a rage, swearing that she and the bastard brat she was withal, should dy, if the gods themselues said no: thinking assuredly by computation of time, that Egistus, and not he, was father to the child. This suspitious thought galled a fresh this halfe healed sore, in so much as he could take no rest, vntil he might mitigate his choler with a iust reuenge, which happened presently after. For Bellaria was brought to bed of a faire and beautiful daughter, which no sooner Pandosto heard, but [tln 1016–17, 1062] he determined that both Bellaria and the yong infant should be burnt with fire. [tln 1077–83] His Nobles hearing of the Kings cruel sentence, sought by perswasions to diuert him from this bloody determination: [tln 980] laying before his face the innocencie of the child, and the vertuous disposition of his wife, how she had continually loued and honored him so tenderly, that without due proof he could not, nor ought not to appeach her of that crime. And if she had faulted, yet it were more honorable to pardon with mercy, then to punish with extremity, and more Kingly, to be commended of pity, than accused of [tln 1293] rigor. And as

[B4v, 1592]
for the child, if he should punish it for the mothers offence, it were to striue against nature and iustice: and that vnnaturall actions do more offend the Gods then men: how causelesse crueltie, nor innocent bloud neuer scapes without reuenge. These and such like reasons could not appease his rage, but he rested resolute in this, that Bellaria being an adulteresse, the child was a bastard, and he would not suffer that such an infamous brat should call him father. [tln 1084–1115] Yet at last (seeing his noble men were importunate vpon him) he was content to spare the childs life, and yet to put it to a worser death. For he found out this deuise, that [tln 1111–15] seeing (as he thought) it came by Fortune, so he would commit it to the charge of Fortune, and therfore he caused a little cock-boate to be prouided, wherein he meant to put the babe, and then send it to the mercie of the seas, and the destinies. From this, his Peeres in no wise could persuade him, but that he sent presently
presently]  ~  1595; presenty 1592
two of his Gard to fetch the child, who being come to the prison, and with weeping teares recounting their maisters message: Bellaria no sooner heard the rigorous resolution of her mercilesse husband, but she fell againe downe in a sound, so that all thought she had bin dead, yet at last being come to her selfe, she cried and scriched out in this wise.

Alas sweete infortunate babe, scarse borne before enuied by fortune: would the day of thy birth had bin the tearme of thy life, then shouldest thou haue made an end to care, and preuented thy fathers rigor. Thy faults cannot yet deserue such hatefull reuenge, thy dayes are too short for so sharpe a doome, but thy vntimely death must pay thy mothers debtes, and her guiltlesse crime must be thy gastly curse. And shalt thou sweete babe be committed to fortune? When thou art alreadie spighted by fortune: shall the seas be thy harbour, and the hard boate thy cradle? Shall thy tender mouth in steede of sweete kisses, be nipped with bitter stormes? Shalt thou haue [tln 1496–7] the whistling winds for thy Lullabie, and the salt sea fome in steed of [tln 1277–80] sweet milke? Alas, what destinies would assigne such hard hap? What father would be so cruell? Or what gods wil not reuenge such rigor? Let me kisse thy lips (sweet infant) and wet thy tender cheekes with my teares, and put this chaine

[C1, 1592]
about thy litle necke, that if fortune saue thee, it may helpe to succour thee. Thus, since thou must go to surge in the gastfull seas, with a sorrowfull kisse I bid thee farewell, and I pray the Gods thou mayst fare well. Such, and so great was her griefe, that her vital spirits being suppressed with sorrow, she fell downe in a traunce, hauing her sences so sotted with care, that after she was reuiued, yet she lost her memorie, and lay for a great time without mouing as one in a traunce. The gard left her in this perplexitie, and caried the child to the king, who quite
[C1, 1588]
deuoide of pity, commanded that without delay it should bee put in the boat, hauing neither saile nor other to guid it, and so to bee carried into the midst of the sea, and there left to the wind and waue as [tln 1115] the destinies please to appoint. The very shipmen seeing the sweete countenance of the yong babe, began to accuse the King of rigor, and to pity the childs hard fortune: but feare constrayned them to that which their nature did abhorre: so that they placed it in one of the ends of the boat, and with a few greene bows made a homely cabben to shroud it as they could from wind and weather: hauing thus trimmed the boat they tied it to a ship, and so haled it into the mayne Sea, and then cut in sunder the coarde, which they had no sooner done, but there arose a mighty tempest, which tossed the little Boate so vehemently in the waues, that the shipmen thought it coulde not continue longe without sincking, yea the storme grewe so great, that with much labour and perill they got to the shoare. But leauing the Childe to her fortunes. Againe to Pandosto, who not yet glutted with sufficient reuenge, deuised which way he should best increase his Wiues calamitie. But first assembling his Nobles and Counsellors, [tln 1173] hee called her for the more reproch into open Court, where it was obiected against her, that she had committed adulterie with Egistus, and conspired with Franion to poyson Pandosto her husband, but [tln 1191–5] their pretence being partely spyed, shee counselled them to flie away by night for their better safety. Bellaria, who standing like a prisoner at the Barre, feeling in her selfe a cleare Conscience to withstand her false accusers: seeing that no lesse then death could pacifie her husbands wrath, waxed bolde, and desired that she might haue Lawe and Iustice, for mercy shee neyther craued nor hoped for, and that those periured wretches, which had falsly accused her to the King, might be brought before her face, to giue in euidence. But Pandosto, whose rage and Iealousie was such, as no reason, nor equitie could appease: tolde her, that for her accusers they were of such credite, as their wordes were sufficient witnesse, and that the sodaine and secret flight of Egistus, and Franion confirmed that which they had confessed: and as for her, it was her parte to deny such a monstrus crime, and to be impudent in forswearing the [tln 1263] fact, since [tln 1229–32] shee had past all shame in committing the fault: but her stale countenaunce should stand for no coyne, for as the Bastard which
[C1v]
she bare was serued, so she should with some cruell death be requited. Bellaria no whit dismayed with this rough reply, [tln 1196–1228] tolde her Husband Pandosto, that he spake vpon choller, and not conscience: for [tln 1207–9] her vertuous life had beene euer such, as no spot of suspition could euer staine. And if she had borne a frendly countenaunce
countenaunce]  ~  1592; countedaunce 1588
to Egistus, it was in respect he was his friende, and not for any lusting affection: therefore if she were condemned without any further proofe, [tln 1293] it was rigour, and not Law. The noble men which sate in iudgement, said that Bellaria spake reason, and intreated the king that the accusers might be openly examined, and sworne, and if then the euidence were such, as the Iury might finde her guilty (for seeing she was a Prince,
Prince,]  ~  1629;  ~ ) 1588
she ought to be tryed by her peeres)
peeres)]  ~  1607;  ~ , 1588
then let her haue such punishment as the extremitie of the Law will assigne to such malefactors. The king presently made answere, that in this case he might, and would dispence with the Law, and that the Iury being once panneld, they should take his word for sufficient euidence, otherwise he would make the proudest of them repent it. The noble men seeing the king in choler were all whist, but Bellaria, whose life then hung in the ballaunce, [tln 1288–90] fearing more perpetuall infamie, then momentarie death, tolde the king, if his furie might stand for a Law, that it were vaine to haue the Iury yeeld their verdit, and therefore she fell downe vpon her knees, and desired the king that for the loue he bare
bare]  ~  1592; hare 1588
to his young sonne Garinter, whome she brought into the world, that hee woulde graunt her [tln 583, 798–805, 800] a request, which was this, that it would please his maiestie to send sixe of his noble men whome he best trusted, to the [tln 1147] Isle of Delphos, there to enquire of the Oracle of Apollo, whether she had committed adultery with Egistus, or conspired to poyson him with Franion: and if the God Apollo, who by his deuine essence knew al secrets, gaue answere that she was guiltie, she were content to suffer any torment, were it neuer so terrible. [tln 1293–8] The request was so reasonable, that Pandosto could not for shame deny it, vnlesse he woulde bee counted of all his subiects more wilfull then wise, he therefore agreed, that with as much speede as might be there should be certaine Embassadores dispatched to the Ile of Delphos: and in the meane season [tln 811–14] he
he]  ~  1592; be 1588
commanded that his wife should be kept in close prison. Bellaria hauing obtained this graunt, was now more
[C2]
carefull for her little babe that floated on the Seas, then sorrowfull for her owne mishap. For of that she doubted: of her selfe shee was assured, knowing if Apollo should giue Oracle according to the thoughts of the hart, yet the sentence should goe one her side, such was the clearenes of her minde in this case. But Pandosto (whose suspitious head still remained in one song) chose out six of his Nobility, whom hee knew were scarse indifferent men in the Queenes behalfe, and prouiding all things fit for their iourney, sent them to Delphos: they willing to fulfill the Kinges commaund, and desirous to see the situation and custome of the Iland, dispatched their affaires with as much speede as might be, and embarked themselues to this voyage, which (the wind and weather seruing fit for their purpose) was soone ended. For [tln 1133, 1134] within three weekes they arriued at Delphos, where they were no sooner set on lande, but with great deuotion they went to the Temple of Apollo, and [tln 1152–8] there offring sacrifice to the GOD, and giftes to the Priest, as the custome was, they humbly craued an aunswere of their demaund: they had not long kneeled at the Altar, but Apollo with a loude voice saide: Bohemians, what you finde behinde the Alter take, and depart. They forthwith obeying the Oracle founde a scroule of parchment, wherein was written these words in letters of Golde.

The Oracle.

Suspition is no proofe: Iealousie is an vnequall iudge: Bellaria is chast: Egistus blameless: Franion a true subiect: Pandosto treacherous: his babe an innocent, and the King shal liue without an heire: if [tln 1313–16, 3378] that which is lost be not founde.

As soone as they had taken out this scroule, the Priest of the God commaunded them that [tln 1168–70, 1304–10] they should not presume to read it, before they came in the presence of Pandosto: vnlesse they would incurre the displeasure of Apollo. The Bohemian Lords carefully obeying his commaund, taking their leaue of the Priest, with great reuerence departed out of the Temple, and went to their ships, and assoone as wind would permit them, sailed toward

[C2v]
[tln 1147] Bohemia, whither in short time they safely arriued, and with great tryumph issuing out of their Ships, went to the Kinges pallace, whom they found in his chamber accompanied with other Noble men: Pandosto no sooner saw them, but with a merrie countenaunce he welcomed them home, asking what newes: they tolde his Maiestie that they had receiued an aunswere of the God written in a scroule, but with this charge, that they should not read the contents before they came in the presence of the King, and with that they deliuered him the parchment: but his Noble men intreated him that sith therein was contayned either the safetie of his Wiues life, and honesty, or her death, and perpetuall infamy, that he would haue his Nobles and Commons assembled in the iudgement Hall, where the Queene brought in as prysoner, should heare the contents: if shee were found guilty by the Oracle of the God, then all should haue cause to thinke his rigour proceeded of due desert: if her Grace were found faultlesse, then shee should bee cleared before all, sith she had bene accused openly. This pleased the King so, that he appointed the day, and assembled al his Lords and Commons, and [tln 1173] caused the Queene to be brought in before the Iudgement seate, commaunding that the inditement shoulde bee read, wherein she was accused of [tln 1187] adultery with Egistus, and of conspiracy with Franion: Bellaria hearing the contentes, was no whit astonished, but made this chearefull aunswer.

[tln 1202–6] If the deuine powers bee priuy to humane actions (as no doubt they are) I hope my patience shall make fortune blushe, and my vnspotted life shall staine spightfull

spightfull]  ~  1607; spightfully 1588
discredit. For although lying Report hath sought to appeach mine honor, and Suspition hath intended to soyle my credit with infamie: yet where Vertue keepeth the Forte, Report and suspition may assayle, but neuer sack: [tln 1219–21] how I haue led my life before Egistus comming, I appeale Pandosto to the Gods, and to thy conscience. [tln 1240] What hath passed betwixt him and me, the Gods onely know, and I hope will presently reueale: [tln 1238–43] that I loued Egistus I can not denie, that I honored him I shame not to confesse: to the one I was forced by his vertues: to the other for his dignities. But as touching lasciuious lust, I say Egistus is honest, and hope my selfe to be found without spot: for Franion, I can neither accuse him, nor excuse him: for [tln 1254–7] I was not
[C3]
priuie to his departure, and that this is true which I haue heere rehearsed, [tln 1294] I referre my self to the deuine Oracle.

Bellaria had no sooner sayd, but the King commaunded that one of his Dukes should reade the contentes of the scroule: which after the commons had heard, they gaue a great showt, reioysing and clapping their hands that the Queene was cleare of that false accusation: but [cf. the contrasting tln 1321–2] the King whose conscience was a witnesse against him of his witlesse furie, and false suspected Iealousie, was so ashamed of his rashe folly, that he intreated his nobles to perswade Bellaria to forgiue, and forget these iniuries: promising not onely to shew himselfe a loyall and louing husband, but also to reconcile himselfe to Egistus, and Franion: reuealing then before them all the cause of their secrete flighte, and how treacherously hee thought to haue practised his death, [cf. tln 1347–8] if the good minde of his Cupbearer had not preuented his purpose. As thus he was relating the whole matter, [tln 1326–7] there was worde brought him that his young sonne Garinter was sodainly dead, which newes so soone as Bellaria heard, surcharged before with

with]  ~  1595; whith 1588
extreame ioy, and now suppressed with heauie sorrowe, her vitall spirites were so stopped, that [tln 1332–3, 1388] she fell downe presently dead, and could be neuer reuiued. This sodaine sight so appalled the Kinges Sences, that he sanck from his seate in a sound so as he was fayne to be carried by his nobles to his Pallace, where hee lay by the space of three dayes without speache: his commons were as men in dispaire, so diuersely distressed: there was nothing but mourning and lamentation to be heard throughout al Bohemia: their young Prince dead, their vertuous Queene bereaued of her life, and their King and Soueraigne in great hazard: this tragicall discourse of fortune so daunted them, as [tln 938–41] they went like shadowes, not men: yet somewhat to comfort their heauie hearts, they heard that Pandosto was come to himselfe, and had recouered his speache, who as in a fury brayed out these bitter speaches.

[tln 1366–85] O miserable Pandosto, what surer witnesse then conscience? What thoughts more sower then suspition? What plague more bad then Iealousie? Vnnaturall actions offend the Gods, more than men, and causelesse crueltie neuer scapes without re-

[C3v]
uenge: I haue committed such a bloudy fact, as repent I may, but recall I cannot. Ah Iealousie, a hell to the minde, and a horror to the conscience, suppressing reason, and inciting rage: a worse passion then phrensie, a greater plague than madnesse. Are the Gods iust? Then let them reuenge such brutishe crueltie: my innocent Babe I haue drowned in the Seas: my louing wife I haue slaine with slaunderous suspition: my trusty friend I haue sought to betray, and yet the Gods are slacke to plague such offences. Ah vniust Apollo, Pandosto is the man that hath committed the faulte: why should Garinter, seely childe, abide the paine? Well sith the Gods meane to prolong my dayes, to increase my dolour, I will offer my guiltie bloud a sacrifice to those sackles soules, whose liues are lost by my rigorous folly. And with that he reached at a Rapier, to haue murdered himselfe, but his Peeres being present, stayed him from such a bloudy acte: perswading him to think, that the Common-wealth consisted on his safetie, and that those sheepe could not but perish, that wanted a sheepheard: wishing, that if hee would not liue for himselfe, yet he should haue care of his subiects, and to put such fancies out of his minde, sith [tln 1413–14] in sores past help, salues doe not heale, but hurt: and in thinges past cure, care is a corrasiue: with these and such like perswasions the Kinge was ouercome, and began somewhat to quiet his minde: so that assoone as hee could goe abroad, hee caused his wife to bee embalmed, and wrapt in lead [tln 1428] with her young sonne Garinter: erecting a rich and famous Sepulchre, wherein hee intombed them both, making such sollemne obsequies at her funeral, as al Bohemia might perceiue he did greatly repent him of his forepassed folly: [tln 1428–30] causing this Epitaph to be ingrauen on her Tombe in letters of Golde:

¶The Epitaph.

Here lyes entombde Bellaria faire,
Falsly accused to be vnchaste:
Cleared by Apollos sacred doome,
Yet slaine by Iealousie at last.
What ere thou be, that passest by,
Cursse him that causde this Queene to die.

[C4]
This Epitaph being ingrauen, [tln 1430–5] Pandosto would once a day repaire to the Tombe, and there with watry plaintes bewaile his misfortune: coueting no other companion but sorrowe, nor no other harmonie, but repentance. But [tln 1596–8] leauing him to his dolorous passions, at last let vs come to shewe the tragicall discourse of the young infant.

Who being tossed with Winde, and Waue, floated two whole daies without succour, readie at euery puffe to bee drowned in the Sea, till at last [tln 1443–5, 1491, 1525–36] the Tempest ceassed, and the little boate was driuen with the tyde [tln 1437, 1440] into the Coast of Sycilia, where sticking vppon the sandes, it rested. [tln 1486] Fortune minding to be wanton, willing to shewe that as she hath wrinckles on her browes: so shee hath dimples in her cheekes: thought after so many sower lookes, to lend a fayned smile, and after a puffing storme, to bring a pretty calme: shee began thus to dally. It fortuned a poore mercenary Sheepheard, that dwelled in Sycilia, who got his liuing by other mens flockes, missed [tln 1507] one of his sheepe, and thinking it had strayed into the couert, that was hard by, sought very diligently to find that which he could not see, fearing either that [tln 1508] the Wolues, or Eagles had vndone him (for hee was so poore, as a sheepe was halfe his substaunce) wandered downe toward the Sea cliffes, to see if perchaunce the sheepe was browsing on [tln 1509–10] the sea Iuy, whereon they greatly doe feede, but not finding her there, as he was ready to returne to his flocke, hee heard a childe crie: but knowing there was no house nere, he thought he had mistaken the sound, and that it was the bleatyng of his Sheepe. Wherefore looking more narrowely, as he cast his eye to the Sea, he spyed a little boate, from whence as he attentiuely listened, he might heare the cry to come: standing a good while in a maze, at last he went to the shoare, and wading to the boate, as he looked in, he saw the little babe lying al alone, ready to die for hunger and colde, wrapped in a Mantle of Scarlet, richely imbrodered with Golde, and hauing a chayne about the necke. The Sheepeheard, who before had neuer seene so faire a Babe, nor so [tln 3043] riche Iewels, [tln 1512] thought assuredly, that it was some little God, and began with great deuocion to knock on his breast. The Babe, who wrythed with the head, to seeke for the pap, began againe to cry a fresh, whereby the poore man knew that it

[C4v]
was a Childe, which by some sinister meanes was driuen thither by distresse of weather: maruailing how such a seely infant, which by the Mantle, and the Chayne, could not [tln 2630] be but borne of Noble Parentage, should be so hardly crossed with deadly mishap. The poore sheepheard perplexed thus with diuers thoughts, tooke pity of the childe, and determined with himselfe to carry it to the King, that there it might be brought vp, according to the worthinesse of birth: for his ability coulde not afforde to foster it, though his good minde was willing to further it. Taking therefore the Chylde in his armes, as he foulded the mantle together, the better to defend it from colde, there fell downe at his foote a very faire and riche purse, wherein he founde [tln 1560–1] a great summe of golde: which sight so reuiued the shepheards spirits, as he was greatly rauished with ioy, and daunted with feare: Ioyfull to see such a summe in his power, and feareful if it should be knowne, that it might breede his further daunger. [tln 455–66] Necessitie wisht him at the least, to retaine the Golde, though he would not keepe the childe: the simplicity of
of]  ~  1592; if 1588
his conscience feared him from such deceiptfull briberie. Thus was the poore manne perplexed with a doubtfull Dilemma, vntil at the last the couetousnesse of the coyne ouercame him: for what will not the greedy desire of Golde cause a man to doe? So that he was resolued in himselfe to foster the child, and with the summe to relieue his want: resting thus resolute in this point, he left seeking of his sheepe, and as couertly, and secretly as he coulde, went by a by-way to his house, least any of his neighbours should perceaue his carriage: assoone as he was got home, entring in at the doore, the childe began to crie, which his wife hearing, and seeing her husband with a yong babe in armes, began to bee somewhat ielousse, yet marueiling that her husband should be so wanton abroad, sith he was so quiet at home: but as women are naturally giuen to beleeue the worste, so his wife thinking it was some bastard: beganne to crow against her goodman, and taking vp a cudgel (for the most maister went breechles) sware solemnly that shee would make clubs trumps, if hee brought any bastard brat within her dores. The goodman seeing his wife in her maiestie with her mace in her hand, thought it was time to bowe for feare of blowes, and desired her to be quiet, for there was non such matter: but if she could holde her peace, they were [tln 1559] made for euer: and with
[D1]
that he told her the whole matter, how he had found the childe in a little boat, without any succour, wrapped in that costly mantle, and hauing that rich chaine about the neck: but at last when he shewed her the purse full of gold, she began to simper something sweetely, and taking her husband about the neck, kissed him after her homely fashion: saying that she hoped God had seene their want, and now ment to relieeue their pouerty, and seeing they could get no children, had sent them this little babe to be their heire. Take heede in any case (quoth the shepherd) that you be secret, and blabbe it not out when you meete with your gossippes, for if you doe, we are like not only to loose the Golde and Iewels, but our other goodes and liues. Tush (quoth his wife) profit is a good hatch before the doore: feare not, I haue other things to talke of then of this: but I pray you let vs lay vp the money surely, and the Iewels, least by any mishap it be spied. After that they had set all things in order, the shepheard went to his sheepe with a merry note, and the good wife learned to sing lullaby at home with her yong babe, wrapping it in a homely blanket in sted of a rich mantle: nourishing it so clenly and carefully as it began to be a iolly girle, in so much that they began both of them to be very fond of it, seeing, as it waxed in age, so it increased in beauty. The shepheard euery night at his comming home, would sing and daunce it on his knee, and prattle, that in a short time it began to speake and call him Dad, and her Mam: at last when it grew to ripe yeeres, that it was about seuen yeares olde, the shepheard left keeping of other mens sheepe, and with the money he found in the purse, he bought him the lease of a pretty farme, and got a smal flocke of sheepe, which when Fawnia (for so they named the child) came to the age of ten yeres, hee set her to keepe, and shee with such diligence performed her charge as the sheepe prospered marueilously vnder her hand. Fawnia thought Porrus had ben her father, and [tln 3388] Mopsa her mother, (for so was the shepheard and his wife called) and
and]  ~  1609; om. 1588
honoured and obeyed them with such reuerence, that all the neighbours praised the duetifull obedience of the child. [tln 1651–3] Porrus grewe in short time to bee a man of some wealth, and credite: for fortune so fauoured him in hauing no charge but Fawnia,
[D1v]
that he began to purchase land, intending after his death to
death to]  ~  1592; 1588 damaged
giue it to his daughter: so that diuerse rich farmers sonnes came as woers to his house: for Fawnia was something clenly attired, beeing of such singular beautie and excellent witte, that whoso sawe her, would haue thought shee had bene some heauenly nymph, and not a mortal creature: in so much, that when she came to the age of [tln 1585, 2240, 3221, 3243] sixteene yeeres, shee so increased with exquisite perfection both of body and minde, as [tln 1976–8] her natural disposition did bewray that she was borne of some high parentage: but the people thinking she was daughter to the shephard Porrus; rested only amazed at hir beauty and wit: yea she won such fauour and commendations in euery mans eye, as her beautie was not onely praysed in the countrey, but also spoken of in the Court: yet such was her submisse modestie, that although her praise daily increased, her mind was no whit puffed vp with pride, but humbled her selfe as became a country mayde and the daughter of a poore sheepheard. Euery day she went forth with her sheepe to the field, keeping them with such care and diligence, as al men thought she was verie painfull, defending her face from the heat of the sunne with no other vale, but with a garland made of bowes and flowers: which atire became her so gallantly, as [tln 1799] shee seemed to bee the Goddesse Flora her selfe for Beauty. Fortune, who al this while had shewed a frendly face, began now to turne her back, and to shewe a lowring countenance, intending as she had giuen Fawnia a slender checke, so she woulde giue her a harder mate: to bring which to passe, she layd her traine on this wise. Egistus had but one only son called Dorastus, about the age of twenty yeeres: a Prince so decked and adorned with the gifts of nature: so fraught with beauty and vertuous qualities, as not onely his father ioyed to haue so good a sonne, and al his commons reioyed that God had lent them such [tln 1806] a noble Prince to succeede in the Kingdom. Egistus placing all his ioy in the perfection of his sonne: seeing that hee was now mariage-able, sent Embassadors to the King of Denmarke, to intreate a mariage betweene him and his daughter, who willingly consenting, made answer, that the next spring, if it please Egistus with his sonne to come into Denmarke, hee doubted
[D2]
not, but they shoulde agree vpon reasonable conditions. Egistus resting satisfied with this friendly answer, thought conuenient in the meane time to breake with his sonne: finding therfore on a day fit oportunity he spake to him in these fatherly tearmes.

Dorastus, thy youth warneth me to preuent the worst, and mine age to prouide the best. Oportunities neglected, are signes of folly: actions measured by time, are seldome bitten with repentance: thou art young, and I olde: age hath taught me that, which thy youth cannot yet conceiue.

I therefore will counsell thee as a father, hoping thou wilt obey as a childe. Thou seest my white hayres are blossomes for the graue, and thy freshe colour fruite for time and fortune, so that it behooueth me to thinke how to dye, and for thee to care how to liue. My crowne I must leaue by death, and thou enioy my Kingdome by succession, wherein I hope thy vertue and prowesse shall bee such, as though my subiectes want my person, yet they shall see in thee my perfection. That nothing either may faile to satisfie thy minde, or increase thy dignities: the onely care I haue, is to see thee well marryed before I die, and thou become olde.

Dorastus who from his infancy, delighted rather to die with Mars in the Fielde, then to dally with Venus in the Chamber: fearing to displease his father, and yet not willing to be wed, made him this reuerent answere.

Sir, there is no greater bond than duetie, nor no straiter law then nature: disobedience in youth is often galled with despight in age. The commaund of the father ought to be a constraint to the childe: so parentes willes are laws, so they passe not all lawes: may it please your Grace therefore to appoint whome I shall loue, rather then by deniall I should be appeached of disobedience: I rest content to loue, though it bee the only thing I hate.

Egistus hearing his sonne to flie so farre from the marke, began to be somewhat chollericke, and therefore made him his hasty aunswere.

[D2v]
What Dorastus canst thou not loue? Commeth this cynicall passion of prone desires, or peeuish frowardnesse?
frowardnesse?]  ~  1607;  ~ . 1588
What doest thou thinke thy selfe to good for all, or none good inough for thee?
thee?]  ~  1607;  ~ . 1588
I tell thee, Dorastus, there is nothing sweeter then youth, nor swifter decreasing, while it is increasing. Time past with folly may bee repented, but not recalled. If thou marrie in age, thy wiues freshe couloures will breede in thee dead thoughtes and suspition, and thy white hayres her lothesomnesse and sorrowe. For Venus affections are not fed with Kingdomes, or treasures, but with youthfull conceits and sweete amours. Vulcan was allotted to shake the tree, but Mars allowed to reape the fruit. Yeelde Dorastus to thy Fathers perswasions, which may preuent thy perils. I haue chosen thee a Wife, faire by nature, royall by birth, by vertues famous, learned by education, and rich by possessions, so that it is hard to iudge whether her bounty, or fortune, her beauty, or vertue, bee of greater force: I meane, Dorastus, Euphania Daughter and heire to the King of Denmarke.

Egistus pausing here a while, looking when his son should make him answere, and seeing that he stoode still as one in a trance, he shooke him vp thus sharply.

Well Dorastus take heede, the tree Alpya wasteth not with fire, but withereth with the dewe: that which loue nourisheth not, perisheth with hate: if thou like Euphania, thou breedest my content, and in louing her thou shalt haue my loue, otherwise; and with that hee flung from his sonne in a rage, leauing him a sorrowfull man, in that he had by deniall displeased his Father, and halfe angrie with him selfe that hee coulde not yeelde to that passion, whereto both reason and his Father perswaded him: but see how fortune is plumed with times feathers, and how shee can minister strange causes to breede straunge effectes.

It happened not long after this, that there was [tln 1795] a meeting of all the Farmers Daughters in Sycilia, whither Fawnia was also bidden as the [tln 1709, 1802, 1873] mistres of the feast, who hauing attired

[D3]
her selfe [tln 1798–9] in her best garments, went among the rest of her companions to the merry meeting: there spending the day in such homely pastimes as shepheards vse. As the euening grew on, and their sportes ceased, ech taking their leaue at other, Fawnia desiring one of her companions to beare her companie, went home by the flocke, to see if they were well folded, and as they returned, it fortuned that Dorastus (who all that daye [tln 1813–15] had bene hawking, and kilde store of game) incountred by the way these two mayds, and casting his eye sodenly on Fawnia, he was halfe afraid, fearing that with Acteon he had seene Diana: for hee thought such exquisite perfection could not be founde in any mortall creature. As thus he stoode in a maze, one of his Pages told him, that the maide with [tln 1798] the garland on her heade was Fawnia the faire shepheard, whose beauty was so much talked of in the Court. Dorastus desirous to see if nature had adorned her minde with any inward qualities, as she had decked her body with outward shape, began to question with her whose daughter she was, of what age and how she had bin trained vp, who answered him with such modest reuerence and sharpnesse of witte, that Dorastus thought her outward beautie was but a counterfait to darken her inward qualities, [tln 2451–3] wondring how so courtly behauiour could be found in so simple a cottage, and cursing fortune that had shadowed wit and beauty with such hard fortune. As thus he held her a long while with chat, Beauty seeing him at discouert, thought not to lose the vantage, but strooke him so deepely with an inuenomed shafte, as he wholy lost his libertie, and became a slaue to Loue, which before contemned Loue, glad now to gaze on a poore shepheard, who before refused the offer of a riche Princesse: for the perfection of Fawnia had so fixed his fancie as he felt his mind greatly chaunged, and his affections altered, cursing Loue that had wrought such a chaunge, and blaming the basenesse of his mind that would make such a choice: but thinking these were but passionat toies that might be thrust out at pleasure, to auoid the Syren that inchaunted him, he put spurs to his horse, and bad this faire shepheard farwell.

Fawnia (who all this while had marked the princely ges-

[D3v]
ture of Dorastus) seeing his face so wel featured, and each lim so perfectly framed, began greatly to praise his perfection, commending him so long, till she found her selfe faultie, [tln 1799] and perceiued that if she waded but a little further, she might slippe ouer her shooes: shee therefore seeking to quench that fire which neuer was put out, went home, and faining her selfe not well at ease, got her to bed: where casting a thousand thoughts in her head, she could take no rest: for if she waked, she began to call to minde his beautie, and thinking to beguile such thoughts with sleepe, she then dreamed of his perfection: pestred thus with these vnacquainted passions, she passed the night as she could in short slumbers.

Dorastus (who all this while rode with a flea in his eare) coulde not by any meanes forget the sweete fauour of Fawnia, but rested so bewitched with her wit and beauty, as hee could take no rest. He felt fancy to giue the assault, and his wounded mind readie to yeeld as vanquished: yet he began with diuers considerations to suppresse this frantick affection, calling to minde, that Fawnia was a shepheard, one not worthy to bee looked at of a Prince, much lesse to bee loued of such a potentate, thinking what a discredite it were to himself, and what a griefe it would be to his father, blaming fortune and accusing his owne follie, that shoulde bee so fond as but once to cast a glaunce at such a country slut. As thus he was raging against him selfe, Loue, fearing if shee dallied long, to loose her champion, stept more nigh, and gaue him such a fresh wounde as it pearst him at the heart, that he was faine to yeeld, maugre his face, and to forsake the companie and gette him to his chamber: where being solemnly set, hee burst into these passionate tearmes.

Ah Dorastus, art thou alone? No not alone, while thou art tired with these vnacquainted passions. Yeld to fancy, thou canst not by thy fathers counsaile, but in a frenzie thou art by iust destinies. Thy father were content, if thou couldest loue, and thou therefore discontent, because thou doest loue. O deuine Loue, feared of men because honoured of the Gods, not to be suppressed by wisdome, because not to be comprehen-

[D4]
ded by reason: without Lawe, and therefore aboue all Law.

How now Dorastus, why doest thou blaze that with praises, which thou hast cause to blaspheme with curses? Yet why should they curse Loue, that are in Loue?

Blush Dorastus at thy fortune, thy choice, thy loue: thy thoughts cannot be vttered without shame, nor thy affections without discredit. Ah Fawnia, sweete Fawnia, thy beautie Fawnia. Shamest not thou Dorastus to name one vnfitte for thy birth, thy dignities, thy Kingdomes? Dye Dorastus, Dorastus die, better hadst thou perish with high desires, then liue in base thoughts. Yea but, beautie must be obeyed, because it is beauty, yet framed of the Gods to feede the eye, not to fetter the heart.

Ah but he that striueth against Loue, shooteth with them of Scyrum against the winde, and with the Cockeatrice pecketh against the steele. I will therefore obey, because I must obey, Fawnia, yea Fawnia shal be my fortune, in spight of fortune. [tln 1826–36] The Gods aboue disdain not to loue women beneath. Phoebus liked Sibilla, Iupiter Io, and why not I then Fawnia, one something inferiour to these in birth, but farre superiour to them in beautie, borne to be a Shepheard, but worthy to be a Goddesse.

Ah Dorastus, wilt thou so forget thy selfe as to suffer affection to suppresse wisedome, and Loue to violate thine honour?

honour]  ~  1592; hononour 1588
How sower will thy choice be to thy Father, sorrowfull to thy Subiects, to thy friends a griefe, most gladsome to thy foes? Subdue then thy affections, and cease to loue her whome thou couldst not loue, vnlesse blinded with too much loue. Tushe I talke to the wind, and in seeking to preuent the causes, I further the effectes. I will yet praise Fawnia, honour, yea and loue Fawnia, and at this day followe content, not counsaile. Doo Dorastus, thou canst but repent: and with that his Page came into the chamber, whereupon hee ceased from his complaints, hoping that time would weare out that which fortune had wrought. As thus he was pained, so poore Fawnia was diuersly perplexed: for the next morning getting vp very earely, shee went to her sheepe, thinking with
[D4v]
hard labours to passe away her new conceiued amours, beginning very busily to driue them to the field, and then to shift the foldes, at last (wearied with toile) she sate her down, where (poore soule) she was more tryed with fond affections: for loue beganne to assault her, in so much that as she sate vpon the side of a hill, she began to accuse her owne folly in these tearmes.

Infortunate Fawnia, and therefore infortunate because Fawnia, thy [tln 2263] shepherds hooke sheweth thy poore state, thy proud desires an aspiring mind: the one declareth thy want, the other thy pride. No bastard hauke must soare so hie as the Hobbie, no Fowle gaze against the Sunne but the Eagle, actions wrought against nature reape despight, and thoughts aboue Fortune disdaine.

Fawnia, thou art a shepheard, daughter to poore Porrus: if thou rest content with this, thou art like to stande, if thou climbe thou art sure to fal. The Herb Anita growing higher then sixe ynches becommeth a weede. Nylus flowing more then twelue cubits procureth a dearth. Daring affections that passe measure, are cut shorte by time or fortune: suppresse then Fawnia those thoughts which thou mayest shame to expresse. But ah Fawnia, loue is a Lord, who will commaund by power, and constraine by force.

Dorastus, ah Dorastus is the man I loue, the woorse is thy hap, and the lesse cause hast thou to hope. Will Eagles catch at flyes, will Cedars stoupe to brambles, or mighty Princes looke at such homely trulles. No, no, thinke this, Dorastus disdaine is greater then thy desire, hee is a Prince respecting his honor, thou a beggars brat forgetting thy calling. Cease then not onely to say, but to thinke to loue Dorastus, and dissemble thy loue Fawnia, for better it were to dye with griefe, then to liue with shame: yet in despight of loue I will sigh, to see if I can sigh out loue. Fawnia somewhat appeasing her griefes with these pithie perswasions, began after her wonted maner to walke about her sheepe, and to keepe them from straying into the corne, suppressing her affection with the due consideration of her base estate, and with the impossibilities of her loue, thinking it were frenzy, not fancy, to couet that which

[E1]
the very destinies did deny her to obteine.

But Dorastus was more impatient in his passions: for loue so fiercely assayled him, that neither companie, nor musicke could mittigate his martirdome, but did rather far the more increase his maladie: shame would not let him craue counsaile in this case, nor feare of his Fathers displeasure reueyle it to any secrete friend: but hee was faine to make a Secretarie of himselfe, and to participate his thoughtes with his owne troubled mind. Lingring thus awhile in doubtfull suspence, at last stealing secretely from the court without either men or Page, hee went to see if hee coulde espie Fawnia walking abroade in the field: but as one hauing a great deale more skill to retriue the partridge with his spaniels, then to hunt after such a straunge pray, he sought, but was little the better: which crosse lucke draue him into a great choler, that he began both to accuse loue and fortune. But as he was readie to retire, he sawe Fawnia sitting all alone vnder the side of a hill, making a garland of such homely flowers as the fields did afoord. This sight so reuiued his spirites that he drewe nigh, with more iudgement to take a view of her singular perfection, which hee found to bee such, as in that countrey attyre shee stained al the courtlie Dames of Sicilia. While thus he stoode gazing with pearcing lookes on her surpassing beautie, Fawnia cast her eye aside, and spyed Dorastus, which

which]  ~  1607; with 1588
sudden sight made the poore girl to blush, and to die her christal cheeks with a vermilion red: which gaue her such a grace, as she seemed farre more beautiful. And with that she rose vp, saluting the Prince with such modest curtesies, as he wondred how a country maid could afoord such courtly behauiour. Dorastus, repaying her curtesie with a smiling countenance, began to parlie with her on this manner.

Faire maide (quoth he) either your want is great, or a shepheards life very sweete, that your delight is in such country labors. I can not conceiue what pleasure you should take, vnlesse you meane to imitate the nymphes, being your selfe

your selfe]  ~  1592; you,selfe 1588
so like a Nymph. To put me out of this doubt, shew me what is to be commended in a shepherdes life, and what
[E1v]
pleasures you haue to counteruaile these drudging laboures. Fawnia with blushing face made him this ready aunswere.

Sir, what richer state then content, or what sweeter life then quiet, we shepheards are not borne to honor, nor beholding vnto beautie, the lesse care we haue to feare fame or fortune: we count our attire braue inough if warme inough, and our foode

foode]  ~  1592; fdode 1588
dainty, if to suffice nature: our greatest enemie is the wolfe: our only care in safe keeping our flock: in stead of courtly ditties we spend the daies with cuntry songs: our amorous conceites are homely thoughtes: delighting as much to talke of Pan and his cuntrey prankes, as Ladies to tell of Venus and her wanton toyes. Our toyle is in shifting the fouldes, and looking to the Lambes,
Lambes,]  ~  1614;  ~ ‸ 1588
easie labours: oft singing and telling tales, homely pleasures: our greatest welth not to couet, our honor not to climbe, our quiet not to care. Enuie looketh not so lowe as shepheards: Shepheards gaze not so high as ambition: we are rich in that we are poore with content, and proud onely in this that we haue no cause to be proud.

This wittie answer of Fawnia so inflamed Dorastus fancy, as he commended him selfe for making so good a choyce, thinking, [tln 2449–53] if her birth were aunswerable to her wit and beauty, that she were a fitte mate for the most famous Prince in the worlde. He therefore beganne to sifte her more narrowely on this manner.

Fawnia, I see thou art content with Country labours, because thou knowest not Courtly pleasures: I commend thy wit, and pitty thy want: but wilt thou leaue thy Fathers Cottage, and serue a Courtlie Mistresse.

Sir (quoth she) beggers ought not to striue against fortune, nor to gaze after honour, least either their fall be greater, or they become blinde. I am borne to toile for the Court, not in the Court, my nature vnfit for their nurture, better liue then in meane degree, than in high disdaine.

Well saide, Fawnia (quoth Dorastus) I gesse at thy thoughtes, thou art in loue with some Countrey Shep-

[E2]
hearde.

No sir (quoth she) shepheards cannot loue, that are so simple, and maides may not loue that are so young.

Nay therefore (quoth Dorastus) maides must loue, because they are young, for Cupid is a child, and Venus, though olde, is painted with fresh coloures.

I graunt (quoth she) age may be painted with new shadowes, and youth may haue imperfect affections: but what arte concealeth in one, ignorance reuealeth in the other. Dorastus seeing Fawnia helde him so harde, thought it was vaine so long to beate about the bush: therefore he thought to haue giuen her a fresh charge: but he was so preuented by certaine of his men, who missing their maister, came posting to seeke him: seeing that he was gone foorth all alone, yet before they drewe so nie that they might heare their talke, he vsed these speeches.

Why Fawnia, perhappes I loue thee, and then thou must needes yeelde, for thou knowest I can commaunde and constraine. Trueth sir (quoth she) but not to loue: for constrained loue is force, not loue: and know this sir, mine honesty is such, as I hadde rather dye then be a Concubine euen to a King, and my birth is so base as I am vnfitte to bee a wife to a poore farmer. Why then (quoth he) thou canst not loue Dorastus? Yes saide Fawnia, when Dorastus becomes a shepheard, and with that the presence of his men broke off their parle, so that he went with them to the palace, and left Fawnia sitting still on the hill side, who seeing that the night drewe on, shifted her fouldes, and busied her selfe about other worke to driue away such fond fancies as began to trouble her braine. But all this could not preuaile, for the beautie of Dorastus had made such a deepe impression in her heart, as it could not be worne out without cracking, so that she was forced to blame her owne folly in this wise.

Ah Fawnia, why doest thou gaze against the Sunne, or catch at the Winde: starres are to be looked at with the eye, not reacht at with the hande: thoughts are to be measured by Fortunes, not by desires: falles come not by sitting low, but by climing too hie: what then shall al feare to fal, because some

[E2v]
happe to fall? No,
No,]  ~  1595;  ~ ‸ 1588
lucke commeth by lot, and fortune windeth those threedes which the destinies spin. Thou art fauored Fawnia of a prince, and yet thou art so fond to reiect desired fauours: thou hast deniall at thy tonges end, and desire at thy hearts bottome: a womans fault, to spurne at that with her foote, which she greedily catcheth at with her hand. Thou louest Dorastus, Fawnia, and yet seemest to lower. Take heede, if hee retire, thou wilt repent: for vnles hee loue, thou canst but dye. Dye then Fawnia: for Dorastus doth but iest: the Lyon neuer prayeth on the mouse, nor Faulcons stoupe not to dead stales [OED, sb.3 1: A decoy-bird]. Sit downe then in sorrow, ceasse to loue, and content thy selfe, that Dorastus will vouchsafe to flatter Fawnia, though not to fancy Fawnia. Heigh ho: Ah foole, it were seemelier for thee to whistle as a Shepheard, then to sigh as a louer, and with that she ceassed from these perplexed passions, folding her sheepe, and hying home to her poore Cottage. But such was the incessant sorrow of Dorastus to thinke on the witte and beautie of Fawnia, and to see how fond hee was being a Prince: and how froward she was being a beggar, that
that]  ~  1607; then 1588
he began to loose his wonted appetite, to looke pale and wan: in stead of mirth, to feede on melancholy: for courtly daunces to vse cold dumpes: in so much that not onely his owne men, but his father and all the court began to maruaile at his sudden change, thinking that some lingring sickenes had brought him into this state: wherefore he caused Phisitions to come, but Dorastus neither would let them minister, nor so much as suffer them to see his vrine: but remained stil so oppressed with these passions, as he feared in him selfe a farther inconuenience. His honor wished him to ceasse from such folly, but Loue forced him to follow fancy: yea and in despight of honour, loue wonne the conquest, so that his hot desires caused him to find new deuises, for hee presently made himselfe a shepheards coate, that he might goe vnknowne, and with the lesse suspition to prattle with Fawnia, and conueied it secretly into a thick groue hard ioyning to the Pallace, whether finding fit time, and oportunity, he went all alone, and putting off his princely apparel, got on those shepheards roabes, and taking [tln 2263] a great hooke in his hand (which he had also gotten) he went very an-
[E3]
ciently [Bullough (1975, 8:184): like an old man . . . anxiously perhaps] to finde out the mistres of his affection: but as he went by the way, seeing himselfe clad in such vnseemely ragges, he began to smile at his owne folly, and to reproue his fondnesse in these tearmes.

Well said Dorastus, thou keepest a right decorum, base desires and homely attires: thy thoughtes are fit for none but a shepheard, and thy apparell such as only become a shepheard. A strang change from a Prince to a pesant? What is it? thy wretched fortune or thy wilful folly? Is it thy cursed destinies? Or thy crooked desires, that appointeth thee this penance? Ah Dorastus thou canst but loue, and vnlesse thou loue, thou art like to perish for loue. Yet fond foole, choose flowers, not weedes: Diamondes, not peables: Ladies which may honour thee, not shepheards which may disgrace thee. Venus is painted in silkes, not in ragges: and Cupid treadeth on disdaine, when he reacheth at dignitie. [tln 1826–36] And yet Dorastus shame not at thy shepheards weede: the heauenly Godes haue sometime earthly thoughtes: [tln 1828–32] Neptune became a Ram, Iupiter a Bul, Apollo a shepheard: they Gods, and yet in loue: and thou a man appointed to loue.

Deuising thus with himselfe, hee drew nigh to the place where Fawnia was keeping her shepe, who casting her eye aside, and seeing such a manerly shepheard, perfectly limmed, and comming with so good a pace, she began halfe to forget Dorastus, and to fauor this prety shepheard, whom she thought shee might both loue and obtaine: but as shee was in these thoughts, she perceiued then, it was the yong prince Dorastus, wherfore she rose vp, and reuerently saluted him. Dorastus taking her by the hand, repaied her curtesie with a sweete kisse, and praying her to sit downe by him, he began thus to lay the batterie.

If thou maruell Fawnia at my strange attyre, thou wouldest more muse at my vnaccustomed thoughtes: the one disgraceth but my outward shape, the other disturbeth my inward sences. I loue Fawnia, and therefore what loue liketh I cannot mislike. Fawnia thou hast promised to loue, and I

[E3v]
hope thou wilt performe no lesse: I haue fulfilled thy request, and now thou canst but graunt my desire. Thou wert content to loue Dorastus when he ceast to be a Prince, and graunted
graunted]  ~  Wells (1988); om. 1588
to become a shepheard, and see I haue made the change, and therefore hope
hope]  ~  Wells (1988); om. 1588
not to misse of my choice.

Trueth, quoth Fawnia, but all that weare Cooles [cowls] are not Monkes: painted Eagles are pictures, not Eagles, Zeusis Grapes were like Grapes, yet shadowes: rich clothing make not princes: nor homely attyre beggers: shepheards are not called shepheardes, because they were [wear] hookes and bagges: but that they are borne poore, and liue to keepe sheepe, so this attire hath not made Dorastus a shepherd, but to seeme like a shepherd.

shepherd]  ~  1592; shephherd 1588

Well Fawnia, answered Dorastus: were I a shepherd, I could not but like thee, and being a prince I am forst to loue thee. Take heed Fawnia, be not proud of beauties painting, for it is a flower that fadeth in the blossome. Those which disdayne in youth are despised in age: Beauties shadowes are trickt vp with times colours, which being set to drie in the sunne are stained with the sunne, scarce pleasing the sight ere they beginne not to be worth the sight, not much vnlike the herbe Ephemeron, which flourisheth in the morning and is withered before the sunne setting: if my desire were against lawe, thou mightest iustly deny me by reason, but I loue thee Fawnia, not to misuse thee as a Concubine, but to vse thee as my wife: I can promise no more, and meane to performe no lesse.

Fawnia hearing this solemne protestation of Dorastus, could no longer withstand the assault, but yeelded vp the forte in these friendly tearmes.

Ah Dorastus, I shame to expresse that thou forcest me with thy sugred speeche to confesse: my base birth causeth the one, and thy high dignities the other. Beggars thoughts ought not to reach so far as Kings, and yet my desires reach as high as Princes, I dare not say Dorastus, I loue thee, be-

[E4]
cause I am a shepherd, but the Gods know I haue honored Dorastus (pardon if I say amisse) yea and loued Dorastus with such dutiful affection as Fawnia can performe, or Dorastus desire: I yeeld, not ouercome with prayers, but with loue, resting Dorastus handmaid ready to obey his wil, if no preiudice at all to his honour, nor to my credit.

Dorastus hearing this freendly conclusion of Fawnia embraced her in his armes, swearing that neither distance, time, nor aduerse fortune should diminish his affection: but that in despight of the destinies he would remaine loyall vnto death. Hauing thus plight their troath each to other, seeing they could not haue the full fruition of their loue in Sycilia for that [tln 1817–20, 1838–49] Egistus consent woulde neuer bee graunted to so meane a match, Dorastus determined assone as time and oportunitie would giue them leaue, to prouide a great masse of money, and many rich and costly iewels, for the easier cariage, and then [tln 2351 ff.] to transporte them selues and their treasure into Italy, where they should leade a contented life, vntil such time as either he could be reconciled to his Father, or els by succession

succession]  ~  1592; sucession 1588
come to the Kingdome. This deuise was greatly praysed of Fawnia, for she feared if the King his father should but heare of the contract, that his furie would be such as no lesse then death would stand for payment: she therefore tould him, that delay bred daunger: that many mishaps did fall out betweene the cup and the lip, and that to auoid danger, it were best with as much speed as might be to pass out of Sycilia, least fortune might preuent their pretence with some newe despight: Dorastus, whom loue pricked forward with desire, promised to dispatch his affaires with as great hast, as either time or oportunitie would geue him leaue: and so resting vpon this point, after many imbracings and sweete kisses they departed. Dorastus hauing taken his leaue of his best beloued Fawnia, went to the Groue where hee had his rich apparel, and there [tln 2512] vncasing himself as secretly as might be, hiding vp his shepheards attire, till occasion should serue againe to vse it: hee went to the pallace, shewing by his merrie countenaunce, that either the state of his body was amended, or the case of his minde
[E4v]
greatly redressed: Fawnia poore soule was no less ioyful, that being a shepheard, fortune had fauoured her so, as to reward her with the loue of a Prince, hoping in time to be aduaunced from the daughter of a poore farmer to be the wife of a riche King: so that she thought euery houre a yeere, till by their departure they might preuent danger, not ceasing still to goe euery daye to her sheepe, not so much for the care of her flock, as for the desire she had to see her loue and Lord Dorastus: who oftentimes, when oportunitie would serrue, repaired thither to feede his fancy with the sweet content of Fawnias
Fawnias‸]  ~  1592;  ~ , 1588
presence: and although he neuer went to visit her, but in his shepheards ragges, yet his ofte repaire made him not onely suspected, but knowne to diuers of their neighbours: who for the good will they bare to old Porrus, tould him secretly of the matter, wishing him to keepe his daughter at home, least she went so oft to the field that she brought him home a yong sonne: for they feared that Fawnia being so beautifull, the yong prince would allure her to folly. Porrus was striken into a dump at these newes, so that thanking his neighboures for their good will hee hyed him home to his wife, and calling her aside, wringing his handes and shedding foorth teares, he brake the matter to her in these tearmes.

I am afraid wife, that my daughter Fawnia hath made her selfe so fine, that she will buy repentance too deare. I heare newes, which if they be true, some will wish they had not proued true. It is tould me by my neighbours, that Dorastus the Kinges sonne begins to looke at our daughter Fawnia: which if it be so, I will not geue her a halfepeny

halfepeny]  ~  1592; halfepenp 1588
for her honestie at
honestie at]  ~  1592; honestiect 1588
the yeeres end. I tell thee wife, nowadaies beauty is a great stale to trap yong men, and faire wordes and sweete promises are two great enemies to a maydens honestie: and thou knowest where poore men intreate, and cannot obtaine, there Princes may commaund, and wil obtaine. Though Kings sonnes daunce in nettes, they may not be seene: but poore mens faultes are spied at a little hole: Well, it is a hard case where Kinges lustes are lawes, and that they should binde poore men to that, which they themselues wilfully breake.

[F1]
Peace husband (quoth his wife) take heede what you say: speake no more then you should, least you heare what you would not: great streames are to be stopped by sleight, not by force: and princes to be perswaded by submission, not by rigor: doe what you can, but no more than you may, least in sauing Fawnias mayden-head, you loose your owne head. Take heede I say, it is ill iesting with edged tooles, and bad sporting with Kinges. The Wolfe had his skinne puld ouer his eares for but looking into the Lions den. Tush wife (quoth he) thou speakest like a foole. If the King should knowe that Dorastus had begotten our daughter with childe (as I feare it will fall out little better) the Kings furie would be such as no doubt we should both loose our goodes and liues: necessitie therefore hath no lawe, and I will preuent this mischiefe with a newe deuise that is come into my head, which shall neither offend the King, nor displease Dorastus. I meane to take the chaine and the iewels that I found with Fawnia, and carrie them to the King, letting him then to vnderstand how she is none of my daughter, but that I found her beaten vp with the water alone in a little boate wrapped in a rich Mantle, wherein was inclosed this treasure. By this meanes I hope the King will take Fawnia into his seruice, and we whatsoeuer chaunceth shal be blamelesse. This deuice pleased the good wife very well, so that they determined assoone as they might know the King at leisure, to make him priuie to this case. In the meane time Dorastus was not slacke in his affaires, but applyed his matters with such diligence, that he prouided all thinges fitte for their iourney. Treasure and Iewels he had gotten great store, thincking there was no better friend than money in a strange countrey: rich attire he had prouided for Fawnia, and, because he could not bring the matter to passe without the helpe and aduice of some one, he made an old seruant of his called Capnio, who had serued him from his childhood, priuie to his affaires: who seeing no perswasions could preuaile to diuert him from his setled determination, gaue his consent and dealt so secretly in the cause, that within short space, hee had gotten a ship ready for their passage: the Mariners seeing a fit gale of winde for their purpose, wished Capnio to make no delayes,
[F1v]
least if they pretermitted this good weather, they might stay long ere they had such a fayre winde. Capnio fearing that his negligence should hinder the iourney, in the night time conueyed the trunckes full of treasure into the shippe, and by secrete meanes let Fawnia vnderstand, that the next morning they meant to depart: she vpon this newes slept verie little that night, but gotte vp very early, and wente to her sheepe, looking euery minute when she should see Dorastus, who taried not long, for fear delay might breede daunger, but came as fast as he could gallop, and without any great circumstance tooke Fawnia vp behinde him and rode to the hauen, where the shippe lay, which was not three quarters of a mile distant from that place. He no sooner came there, but the Marriners were readie with their Cockboate to set them aboard, where being coucht together in a Cabben they past away the time in recounting their old loues, til their man Capnio should come. Porrus who had heard that this morning the King would go abroad to take the ayre, called in haste to his wife to bring him his holyday hose and his best Iacket, that he might goe like an honest substantiall man to tell his tale. His wife, a good cleanly wenche, brought him all things fitte, and spungd him vp very handsomlie, giuing him the chaines and Iewels in a little boxe, which Porrus for the more safety put in his bosom. Hauing thus all his trinkets in a readines, taking his staffe in his hand he bad his wife kisse him for good lucke, and so hee went towards the Pallace. But as he was going, fortune (who meant to showe him a little false play) preuented his purpose in this wise.

He met by chaunce in his way Capnio, who trudging as fast as he could with a little coffer vnder his arme to the ship, and spying Porrus whome he knewe to be Fawnias Father, going towardes the Pallace, being a wylie fellow, began to doubt the worst, and therefore crost him the way, and askt him whither he was going so earely this morning.

Porrus (who knew by his face that he was one of the Court) meaning simply, told him that the Kings son Dorastus dealt hardly with him; for he had but one Daughter who was a little beautifull, and that his neighboures told him the young

[F2]
Prince had allured her to folly, he went therefore now to complaine to the King how greatly he was abused.

Capnio (who straight way smelt the whole matter) began to soothe him in his talke, and said, that Dorastus dealt not like a Prince to spoyle any poore manes daughter in that sort: he therefore would doe the best for him he could, because he knew he was an honest man. But (quoth Capnio) you lose your labour in going to the Pallace, for [tln 2642–5] the King meanes this day to take the aire of the Sea, and to goe aboord of a shippe that lies in the hauen. I am going before, you see, to prouide all things in redinesse, and if you will follow my counsaile, turne back with me to the hauen, where I will set you in such a fitte place as you may speake to the King at your pleasure. Porrus giuing credit to Capnios smooth tale, gaue him a thousand thanks for his friendly aduise, and went with him to the hauen, making all the way his complaintes of Dorastus, yet concealing secretlie the chaine and the Iewels. Assone as they were come to the Sea side, the marriners seeing Capnio, came a land with their cockboate, who still dissembling the matter, demaunded of Porrus if he would go see the ship? who vnwilling and fearing the worst, because he was not well acquainted with Capnio, made his excuse that he could not brooke the Sea, therefore would not trouble him.

Capnio seeing that by faire meanes hee could not get him aboord, commaunded the mariners that by violence they should carrie him into the shippe, who like sturdy knaues hoisted the poore shepheard on their backes, and bearing him to the boate, lanched from the land.

Porrus seeing himselfe so cunningly betraied durst not crie out, for hee sawe it would not preuaile, but began to intreate Capnio and the mariners to be good to him, and to pittie his estate, hee was but a poore man that liued by his labour: they laughing to see the shepheard so afraide, made as much haste as they could, and set him aboorde. Porrus was no sooner in the shippe, but he saw Dorastus walking with Fawnia, yet he scarse knew her: for she had attired her selfe in riche apparell, which

which‸]  ~  1607;  ~ , 1588
so increased her beauty, that shee resembled rather an Angell than a mortall creature.

[F2v]
Dorastus and Fawnia, were halfe astonished to see the olde shepherd, maruailing greatly what wind had brought him thither, til Capnio
Capnio]  ~  1592; Capino 1588
told them al the whole discourse: how Porrus was going to make his complaint to the King, if by pollicie he had not preuented him, and therefore now sith he was aboord, for the auoiding of further danger it were best to carrie him into Italy.

Dorastus praised greatly his mans deuise, and allowed of his counsaile; but Fawnia, (who stil feared Porrus, as her father) began to blush for shame, that by her meanes he should either incure daunger or displeasure.

The old shephard hearing this hard sentence, that he should on such a sodaine be caried from his Wife, his country, and kinsfolke, into a forraine Lande amongst straungers, began with bitter teares to make his complaint, and on his knees to intreate Dorastus, that pardoning his vnaduised folly he would giue him leaue to goe home: swearing that hee would keepe all thinges as secret as they could wish. But these protestations could not preuaile, although Fawnia intreated Dorastus very earnestly, but the mariners hoisting their maine sailes waied ankers, and hailed into the deepe, where we leaue them to the fauour of the wind and seas, and returne to Egistus.

Who hauing appointed this day to hunt in one of his Forrests, called for his sonne Dorastus to go sport himselfe, because hee saw that of late hee began to loure; but his men made answer that hee was gone abroade none knew whither, except he were gone to the groue to walke all alone, as his custome was to doe euery day.

The King willing to waken him out of his dumpes, sent one of his men to goe seeke him, but in vaine, for at last he returned, but finde him he could not, so that the King went himselfe to goe see the sport; where passing away the day, returning at night from hunting, hee asked for his sonne, but he could not be heard of, which draue the King into a great choler: whereupon most of his Noblemen and other Courtiers poasted abroad to seek him, but they could not heare of him through all Sicilia, onely they missed Capnio his man which againe

[F3]
made the King suspect that hee was not gone farre.

Two or three daies being passed, and no newes heard of Dorastus, Egistus began to feare that he was deuoured with some wilde beastes, and vpon that made out a great troupe of men to go seeke him; who coasted through all the Country, and searched in euerie daungerous and secrete place, vntill at last they mette with a Fisherman that was sitting in a little couert hard by the sea side mending his nettes, when Dorastus and Fawnia tooke shipping: who being examined if he either knewe or heard where the Kings Sonne was, without any secrecie at all reuealed the whole matter, how he was sayled two dayes past, had in his company his man Capnio, Porrus and his faire Daughter Fawnia. This heauie newes was presently caryed to the King, who halfe dead for sorrow commaunded Porrus wife to be sent for: she being come to the Pallace, after due examination, confessed that her neighbours had oft told her that the Kings Sonne was too familier with Fawnia, her Daughter: whereuppon, her husband fearing the worst, about two dayes past (hearing the King should goe an hunting) rose earely in the morning and went to make his complaint, but since she neither hearde of him, nor saw him. Egistus perceiuing the womans vnfeyned simplicity, let her depart without incurring further displeasure, conceiuing

conceiuing]  ~  1614; conceiling 1588
such secret greefe for his Sonnes recklesse follie, that he had so forgotten his honour and parentage, by so base a choise to dishonor his father, and discredit himselfe, that with very care and thought he fel into a quartan feuer, which was so vnfit for his aged yeeres and complexion, that he became so weake, as the Phisitions would graunt him no life.

But his sonne Dorastus little regarded either father, countrie, or Kingdome in respect of his Lady Fawnia, for fortune smyling on this young nouice, lent him so lucky a gale of winde, for the space of a day and a night, that the maryners lay and slept vpon the hatches; but on the next morning about the breake of the day, the aire began to be ouercast, the winds to rise, the seas to swel, yea presently [tln 2408] there arose such a fearfull tempest, as the ship was in danger to be swallowed vp with euery sea, the maine mast with the violence of the wind was thrown

[F3v]
ouer boord, the sayles were torne, the tacklings went in sunder, the storme raging still so furiously that poore Fawnia was almost dead for feare, but that she was greatly comforted with the presence of Dorastus. The tempest continued three dayes, al which time the Mariners euerie minute looked for death, and the aire was so darkned with cloudes that the Maister could not tell by his compasse in what Coast they were. But vpon the fourth day about ten of the clocke, the wind began to cease, the sea to waxe calme, and the sky to be cleare, and the Mariners descryed the coast of Bohemia, shooting of their ordnance for ioy that they had escaped such a fearefull tempest.

Dorastus hearing that they were arriued at some harbour, sweetly kissed Fawnia, and bad her be of good cheare: when they tolde him that the port belonged vnto the cheife Cittie of Bohemia where Pandosto kept his Court, Dorastus began to be sad, knowing that his Father hated no man so much as Pandosto, and that the King himself had sought secretly to betray Egistus: this considered, he was halfe afraid to goe on land, but that Capnio counselled him to chaunge his name and his countrey, vntil such time as they could get some other barke to transport them into Italy. Dorastus liking this deuise made his case priuy to the Marriners, rewarding them bountifully for their paines, and charging them to saye that he was a Gentleman of Trapalonia called Meleagrus. The shipmen willing to shew what friendship they could to Dorastus, promised to be as secret as they could, or hee might wish, and vppon this they landed in a little village a mile distant from the Citie, where after they had rested a day, thinking to make prouision for their mariage, the fame of Fawnias beauty was spread throughout all the Citie, so that it came to the eares of Pandosto, who then [tln 2240] being about the age of fifty, had notwithstanding yong and freshe affections: so that he desired greatly to see Fawnia, and to bring this matter the better to passe, hearing they had but one man, and how they rested at a very homely house, he caused them to be apprehended as spies, and sent a dozen of his garde to take them: who being come to their lodging, tolde them the Kings message. Dorastus no

[F4]
whit dismayed, accompanied with Fawnia and Capnio, went to the court (for they left Porrus to keepe the stuffe) who being admitted to the Kings presence,
presence,]  ~  1592;  ~ . 1588
Dorastus and Fawnia with humble obeysance saluted his maiestie.

Pandosto amased at the singular perfection of Fawnia, stood halfe astonished, viewing her beauty, so that he had almost forgot himselfe what hee had to doe: at last with stearne countenance he demaunded their names, and of what countrey they were, and what caused them to land in Bohemia. Sir (quoth Dorastus) know that my name Meleagrus is,

is,]  ~ ‸ 1588–95; reading differs 1601+
a Knight borne and brought vp in Trapalonia, and this gentlewoman, whom I meane to take to my wife is an Italian [tln 2915, 2926] borne in Padua, from whence I haue now brought her. The cause I haue so small a trayne with me is for that, her friends vnwilling to consent, I intended secretly to conuey her into Trapalonia; whither as I was sailing, by distresse of weather I was driuen into these coasts: thus haue you heard my name, my country, and the cause of my voiage. Pandosto starting from his seat as one in choller, made this rough reply.

Meleagrus, I feare this smooth tale hath but small trueth, and that thou couerest a foule skin with faire paintings. No doubt this Ladie by her grace and beauty is of her degree more meete for a mighty Prince, then for a simple knight, and thou like a periured traitour hast bereft her of her parents, to their present griefe, and her insuing sorrow. Till therefore I heare more of her parentage and of thy calling, I wil stay you both here in Bohemia.

Dorastus, in whome rested nothing but Kingly valor, was not able to suffer the reproches of Pandosto, but that he made him this answer.

It is not meete for a King, without due proofe to appeach any man of ill behauiour, nor vpon suspition to inferre beleefe: straungers ought to bee entertained with courtesie, not to bee intreated with crueltie, least being forced by want to put vp iniuries, the Gods reuenge their cause with rigor.

Pandosto hearing Dorastus vtter these wordes, [tln 2998] commaunded that he should straight be committed to prison, vntill such

[F4v]
time as they heard further of his pleasure, but as for Fawnia, he charged that she should be entertained in the Cohrt, with such curtesie as belonged to a straunger and her calling. The rest of the shipmen he put into the Dungeon.

Hauing thus hardly handled the supposed Trapalonians, [tln 2724] Pandosto contrarie to his aged yeares

yeares]  ~  1592; yeaxes 1588
began to be somewhat tickled with the beauty of Fawnia, in so much that hee could take no rest, but cast in his old head a thousand new deuises: at last he fell into these thoughtes.

How art thou pestred Pandosto with fresh affections, and vnfitte fancies, wishing to possesse with an vnwilling mynde, and in

in]  ~  Wells (1988); om. 1588
a hot desire troubled with a could disdaine! Shall thy mynde yeeld in age to that thou hast resisted in youth? Peace Pandosto, blabbe not out that which thou maiest be ashamed to reueale to thy self. Ah, Fawnia is beautifull, and it is not for thine honour (fond foole) to name her that is thy Captiue, and an other mans Concubine. Alas, I reach at that with my hand which my hart would faine refuse: playing like the bird Ibys in Egipt, which hateth Serpents, yet feedeth on their egges.

Tush, hot desires turne oftentimes to colde disdaine: Loue is brittle, where appetite, not reason, beares the sway. Kinges thoughtes ought not to climbe so high as the heauens, but to looke no lower then honour: better it is to pecke at the starres with the young Eagles, then to prey on dead carkasses with the Vulture: tis more honourable for Pandosto to dye by concealing Loue, then to enioy such vnfitte Loue. Dooth Pandosto then loue? Yea. Whome? A maid vnknowne, yea and perhapps, immodest, stragled out of her owne countrie: beautifull, but not therefore chast: comely in bodie, but perhappes crooked in minde. Cease then Pandosto, to looke at Fawnia, much lesse to loue her: be not ouertaken with a womans beauty, whose eyes are framed by arte to inamour, whose hearte is framed by nature to inchaunt, whose false teares knowe their true times, and whose sweete wordes pearce deeper then sharpe swordes. Here Pandosto ceased from his talke, but not from his loue: for although he sought by reason, and wisedome

[G1]
to suppresse this franticke affection, yet he could take no rest, the beautie of Fawnia had made such a deepe impression in his heart. But on a day, walking; abroad into a Parke which was hard adioyning to his house, he sent by one of his seruants for Fawnia, [see n. 2995] vnto whome he vttered these wordes.

Fawnia, I commend thy beauty and wit, and now pittie thy distresse and want: but if you wilt forsake Sir Meleagrus, whose pouerty, though a Knight, is not able to maintaine an estate aunswerable to thy beauty, and yeld thy consent to Pandosto, I wil both increase thee with dignities and riches. No sir, answered Fawnia: Meleagrus is a knight that hath wonne me by loue, and none but he shal [tln 404] weare me: his sinister mischance shall not diminishe my affection, but rather increase my good will. Thinke not though your Grace hath imprisoned him without cause, that feare shall make mee yeeld my consent: I had rather be Meleagrus wife, and a beggar, then liue in plenty, and be Pandostos Concubine. Pandosto, hearing the assured aunswere of Fawnia, would, notwithstanding, prosecute his suite to the vttermost: seeking with faire words and great promises to scale the fort of her chastitie, swearing that if she would graunt to his desire, Meleagrus should not only be set at libertie, but honored in his courte amongst his Nobles: but these alluring baytes could not intise her minde from the loue of her newe betrothed mate Meleagrus: which Pandosto seeing, he left her alone for that time to consider more of the demaund. Fawnia, being alone by her selfe, began to enter into these solitarie meditations.

Ah, infortunate Fawnia, thou seest to desire aboue fortune is to striue against the Gods and Fortune. Who gazeth at the sunne weakeneth his sight: they which stare at the skie, fall oft into deepe pits: haddest thou rested content to haue been a shepheard, thou neededst not to haue feared mischaunce. Better had it bene for thee, by sitting lowe, to haue had quiet, then by climing high to haue fallen into miserie. But alas, I feare not mine owne daunger, but Dorastus displeasure. Ah sweete Dorastus, thou art a Prince, but now a prisoner, by too much

[G1v]
loue procuring thine owne losse. Haddest thou not loued Fawnia thou haddest bene fortunate. Shall I then bee false to him that hath forsaken Kingdomes for my cause? No; would my death might deliuer him, so mine honor might be preserued. With that, fetching a deepe sigh, she ceased from her complaints, and went againe to the Pallace, inioying a libertie without content, and profered pleasure with smal ioy. But poore Dorastus lay all this while in close prison, being pinched with a hard restraint, and pained with the burden of colde, and heauie Irons, sorrowing sometimes that his fond affection had procured him this mishappe, that by the disobedience of his parentes, he had wrought his owne despight: an other while cursing the Gods and fortune, that they should crosse him with such sinister chaunce: vttering at last his passions in these words.

Ah vnfortunate wretch, borne to mishappe, now thy folly hath his desert: Art thou not worthie for thy base minde to haue bad fortune? could the destinies fauour thee, which hast forgot thine honor and dignities? Wil not the Gods plague him with despight that payneth his father with disobedience? Oh Gods, if any fauour or iustice be left, plague me, but fauour poore Fawnia, and shrowd her from the tirannies of wretched Pandosto, but let my death free her from mishap, and then, welcome death! Dorastus payned with these heauie passions, sorrowed and sighed, but in vaine, for which he vsed the more patience. But againe to Pandosto, who broyling at the heat of vnlawfull lust coulde take no rest but still felte his minde disquieted with his new loue, so that his nobles and subiectes marueyled greatly at this sudaine alteration, not being able to coniecture the cause of this his continued care. Pandosto, thinking euery hower a yeare til he had talked once againe with Fawnia, sent for her secretly into his chamber, whither though Fawnia vnwillingly comming, Pandosto entertained her very courteously, vsing these familiar speaches, which Fawnia answered as shortly in this wise.

Pandosto

[G2]
Fawnia, are you become lesse wilfull and more wise, to preferre the loue of a King before the liking of a poore Knight? I thinke ere this you thinke it is better to be fauoured of a King then of a subiect.

Fawnia

Pandosto, [tln 2446–7] the body is subiect to victories, but the mind not to be subdued by conquest: honesty is to be preferred before honour, and a dramme of faith weigheth downe a tunne of gold. I haue promised Meleagrus to loue, and will performe no lesse.

Pandosto

Fawnia, I know thou art not so vnwise in thy choice, as to refuse the offer of a King, nor so ingrateful as to dispise a good turne: thou art now in that place where I may commaunde, and yet thou seest I intreate. My power is such as I may compell by force, and yet I sue by prayers: Yeelde Fawnia thy loue to him which burneth in thy loue. Meleagrus shall be set free, thy countrymen discharged: and thou both loued and honoured.

Fawnia

I see, Pandosto, where lust ruleth it is a miserable thing to be a virgin, but know this, that I will alwaies preferre fame before life, and rather choose death then dishonour.

Pandosto seeing that there was in Fawnia a determinate courage to loue Meleagrus, and a resolution without feare to hate him, flong away from her in a rage: swearing if in shorte time she would not be wonne with reason: he would forget all courtesie, and compel her to graunt by rigour: but [tln 2287] these threatning wordes no whit dismayed Fawnia; but that she still both dispighted and dispised Pandosto. While thus these two louers stroue, the one to winne loue the other to liue in hate: Egistus heard certaine newes by Merchauntes of Bohemia,

[G2v]
that his sonne Dorastus was imprisoned by Pandosto, which made him feare greatly that his sonne should be but hardly intreated: yet considering that Bellaria and hee was cleared by the Oracle of Apollo from that crime wherewith Pandosto had vniustly charged them, hee thought best to send with all speed to Pandosto, that he should set free his sonne Dorastus, and put to death Fawnia and her father Porrus: finding this by the aduise of Counsaile the speediest remedy to release his sonne, he caused presently two of his shippes to be rigged, and thoroughly furnished with prouision of men and victuals, and sent diuers of his nobles Embassadoures into Bohemia; who willing to obey their King, and relieue their yong Prince: made no delayes, for feare of danger, but with as much speed as might be, sailed towards Bohemia: the winde and seas fauored them greatly, which made them hope of some good happe, for within three daies they were landed: which Pandosto no soner heard of their arriuall, but [tln 3006] hee in person went to meete them, intreating them with such sumptuous and familiar courtesie, that they might well perceiue how sory he was for the former iniuries hee had offered to their King, and how willing (if it might be) to make amendes. As Pandosto made report to them, how one Meleagrus, a Knight of Trapolonia, was lately ariued with a Lady called Fawnia in his land, comming very suspitiously, accompanied onely with one seruant, and an olde shepheard. The Embassadours perceiued by the halfe, what the whole tale ment, and began to coniecture, that it was Dorastus, who for feare to bee knowne, had chaunged his name: but dissembling the matter, they shortly ariued at the Court, where after they had bin verie solemnly and sumptuously feasted, the noble men of Sicilia being gathered togither, they made reporte of their Embassage: where they certified Pandosto that Meleagrus was sonne and heire to the King Egistus, and that his name was Dorastus: how contrarie to the Kings minde he had priuily conuaied away that Fawnia, intending to marrie her, being but daughter to that poore shepheard Porrus: wherevpon
wherevpon]  ~  1592 (?); where vpon 1588
[tln 2943–8] the Kings request was that Capnio, Fawnia, and Porrus, might bee murthered and put to death, and that his sonne Dorastus<