The History of Dorastus and Fawnia.

BEFORE Christianity appear­ed in the World, there reign­ed in Bohemia a King, named Pandosto, who was married to a Princess of exquisite Beauty and consummate Virtue, cal­led Bellaria. The Harmony that subsisted between this royal Couple gave the greatest Satisfaction to all their Subjects, whose Hap­piness was greatly increased by the Felicity of their Sovereigns.

At the End of the first Year of their Mar­riage Bellaria was delivered of a Son, who was named Garrinter. The Bohemians upon [Page 2] this Occasion made great Rejoicings over all the Kingdom. And the King, as well to express his own Satisfaction at this happy In­cident, as to comply with the Desires of the People, appointed Justs and Tournaments in Honour of the young Prince; to which not only many foreign Noblemen resorted, but also several neighbouring Kings and Princes came to exercise their Valour and Judgment at these martial Entertainments.

The Sports lasted twenty Days, during which Time the King made a general Feast for all his Subjects; and the Kings and Prin­ces, who had been royally entertained, re­turned home to their respective Countries, full of Admiration of the great Magnificence of Pandosto.

The Smiles of Fortune are seldom sincere or lasting; the fickle Goddess, weary of be­stowing Favours upon Pandosto, while he was wholly taken up in the Enjoyment of them, prepared a sad reverse of Fate for him and the lovely Bellaria. Pandosto, from his earliest Youth, had contracted and maintained a strict Friendship and Correspondence with Egistus, the young King of Sicily.

This Prince being desirous of shewing that neither Time nor Distance of Place could weaken the Force of his Affection for Pan­dosto, resolved to visit him in his own Domi­nions, to congratulate him upon his Marriage and the Birth of a Son. For this Purpose he ordered a small Fleet to be prepared, and with [Page 3] a small but select Number of Attendants ar­rived in Bohemia.

Pandosto and his Queen, with a numerous Retinue, went to meet Egistus at his landing, and carried him to the Palace in the midst of most expensive Shows and magnificent Arches, which had been prepared and erected for his Reception.

Pandosto, whose Heart overflowed with grateful Transport for this Demonstration of Friendship in Egistus, intreated his Queen to shew all imaginable Respect and Esteem to a Prince whom he loved so much, and to whom he was so highly obliged.

The sweet Bellaria, who had no other Will but that of her Husband, was easily pre­vailed upon to comply with a Request to which her own Inclinations naturally incited her, for the noble Qualities she observed in Egistus had al­ready produced suitable Effects in a Mind, that being virtuous and sensible to the highest Degree itself, could not chuse but love those Perfections in another.

Bellaria therefore, as well in Obedience to her Husband's Commands, as in Consequence of the Friendship she had conceived for Egistus, gave him every Day a thousand innocent Marks of her Esteem, which that Prince, who admired and loved her Perfections with all the Warmth of a disinterested Friend, did not fail to return with every Instance of Gra­titude and Respect.

[Page 4]This mutual Esteem gave rise to an easy Confidence and familiar Intercourse between them; so that Pandosto being often engaged with his Ministers in Affairs of State, Bellaria and Egistus passed away the Time in his Ab­sence in various Discourses and innocent A­musements, all which at first was very pleas­ing to Pandosto.

But that unhappy Prince, either because he was conscious of the superior Merit of Egistus, or through the natural Bent of his Disposition, began to look with suspicious Eyes on a Friend­ship and Familiarity which he had been so soli­citous to form: Doubtful and uneasy Thoughts arose in his Mind, he reflected on the irressist­able Charms of Bellaria, and the manly Beauty and noble Qualities of Egistus, and thought it impossible that two Persons so formed to please should be insensible to each others Merit.

These Doubts having entered his Mind, he fed his growing Jealousy with continual Ob­servations on the Looks and Words of his Friend and Wife; and prejudiced as he now was, their innocent Familiarity appeared to him to be a convincing Proof of their guilty Passion; Suspicion was now changed to abso­lute Certainty; he no longer looked upon Egistus as his Friend and Guest, but as the Destroyer of his Honour, and the Violater of his Queen.

A violent Hatred succeeded the tender Af­fection he once bore to Egistus; and those Smiles of Love with which he had always [Page 5] been accustomed to behold the charming Bellaria, gave Place to sullen Reserve and gloomy Frowns: Racked with the torment­ing Remembrance of his fancied Wrongs, the Desire and Hope of Revenge afforded him some Intervals of Ease.

He resolved therefore to poison Egistus, and while his Mind was labouring how to execute his cruel Purpose with Security, his Words and Behaviour still wore an Appearance of Friendship and Respect.

Pandosto had a Cup-bearer, named Franion, whom, because he had always shewn an inviola­ble Attachment to his Person, he believed it would be easy to persuade to execute his purposed Vengeance on the King of Sicily.

To this Man therefore the jealous Mo­narch communicated his ungenerous Design, and promised him a large Reward, if when the next Time that Egistus called for Drink at his Table, he would put Poison in his Cup.

Franion shuddered with Horror at this in­human Proposition; and with all the Freedom of a good Man and a faithful Subject he en­deavoured to dissuade his King from his bar­barous Purpose. He represented to him that Murder was an unpardonable Offence to the Gods, and abhorred by all Mankind, that such unnatural Crimes not only drew down the Wrath of Heaven upon the Perpetrators of them, but the Revenge of Men. He urged to him the sacred Laws of Hospitality, [Page 6] that Egistus was his Guest, his Friend and Ally; that any Cruelty committed upon his Person would brand his Name with perpetual Infamy, and sow the lasting Seeds of Discord and Hatred between the Sicilians and Bohemi­ans; and that even his own Subjects would murmur at such an unexampled Piece of Cruelty and Treachery.

These Arguments had no Force with the determined Pandosto, who, persisting still in his cruel Resolution, gave Franion his Choice either to poison Egistus, and be rewarded with Riches and Honours, or to suffer Death for his Disobedience.

Franion, staggered by these dreadful Threat­nings on one Hand, and allured by those great Promises on the other, told Pandosto that he would obey him, and as soon as a fair Opportunity offered he would poison Egistus.

The King was very well pleased with this Promise, and resolved as soon as his designed Vengeance on Egistus was executed, to sa­crifice Bellaria in the same Manner, to his abused Love and injured Honour.

When the King was departed, Franion having no longer that dreadful Object before his Eyes, threatening Death and Torments if he did not murder the innocent Prince, be­gan to reflect seriously upon the horrid Deed he had engaged to perform: Murder he thought, however secretly and securely committed, might for a Time avoid Danger, but never wholly escape Punishment; that no Balm, no Leni­tive [Page 7] could heal the Stings of a wounded Con­science, and the Guilt of innocent Blood would always be accompanied with Remorse and Horror.

He reflected that, though he was a Subject, his King had no Right to his Obedience when his Commands were contrary to the express Will and Pleasure of the Gods, to whom he owed a higher Duty.

He considered, that the peaceful Calm of a contented Mind in an humble Condition was preferable to the restless Turbulence of Dignity and Riches, when purchased with Crimes and stained with Blood, and that honest Poverty was infinitely better than shameful Grandeur.

Seeing therefore that he must either die with a clear Mind, or live with a foul and spotted Conscience; his Soul was so perplexed be­tween these two Extremes that he could take no Rest; at last he determined to discover the Affair to Egistus, and for that Purpose he went to his Apartments, and desiring a private Au­dience of the King of Sicily he was admitted to his Presence, and in a few Words laid open the whole Conspiracy against him.

The Brave and Generous are not easily in­duced to believe those they love are capable of Baseness and Ingratitude. Egistus judging of Pandosto's Heart by the Rectitude of h [...]s own, told Franion with a severe Countenance, that he would not entertain a Thought to the Prejudice of the King of Bohemia's Honour.

"Pandosto, continued he, is my Friend and Ally, no Suspicion has ever yet interrupt­ed [Page 8] our mutual Affection, I did not come here to invade his Territories, to seduce his Sub­jects from their Allegiance, or to conspire with his Enemies. Since therefore I have given him no Cause to seek my Death, I can­not believe him guilty of so unjust and trea­cherous a Design; but rather suspect the In­formation you have given me to be the Ef­fect of a Combination among the Bohemians, to create a Variance between me and their King."

Franion replied, "that it was dangerous to dally with the Rage of an incensed and secret Enemy; that if the Bohemians had intended any Harm to him they might easily accomplish it without revealing their Conspiracy; that it was unkind therefore in his Majesty to mis­construe his Zeal for his Preservation into a treacherous Design, for that his Intention was to prevent Treason, not to become a Traitor."

He urged him then to fly with Speed in­to Sicily if he hoped to escape the Danger which threatned him, and begged his Majesty would permit him to go along with him, when if he did not fully prove that Pandosto had de­signed to poison him, he desired that his ima­gined Treachery might be punished with the most cruel Torments.

Egistus, weighing the Matter thoroughly in his Mind, gave many Thanks to Franion, and promising if he arrived safe in Sicily to re­ward him royally; he desired him to contrive the Method of their Escape.

[Page 9] Franion went immediately to consult with the Admiral of Egistus's Fleet, and it was agreed between them, that it should be put in Readiness to sail as soon as a fair Wind and Opportunity offered.

In the mean Time Franion amused Pandosto with Hopes of soon having his so much de­sired Revenge accomplished, telling him that he was employed in preparing and compound­ing so subtle a Poison, that the Moment it was swallowed would procure immediate Death.

Pandosto received this News with a malignant Joy, every Hour seeming an Age to his im­patient Fury till His Revenge was satiated with the Death of those who had offended him.

Egistus being informed that a favourable Gale had sprung up, conveyed himself and his Sicilians, by the Assistance of Franion, out of a Postern Gate of the City, with such Secresy and Expedition, that they got on board their Ships without the least Suspicion, and spread­ing all their Sails to the Wind soon lost Sight of Bohemia.

As soon as Pandosto was informed that Egistus had fled away in the Night, and that Franion was gone with him, he let loose all his Rage upon his Queen, whom he accused of conspiring with Egistus and the Traitor Franion, and commanded she should be led to Prison.

The Bohemians were all alarmed, and sus­pected some Treason; and the furious Pandosto [Page 10] believing the Queen not only guilty of disho­nouring his Bed, but of projecting the Flight of Egistus, sent his Guards with Orders to seize her.

The innocent Bellaria not expecting the impending Storm, was playing with her lit­tle Son Garrinter, when the Guards, with much Reluctance, came to execute the King's Demands.

The Queen was at first astonished and turned pale, but recollecting herself, and as­suming all the noble Pride of conscious Inno­cence and affronted Virtue, she gave her Hand to the Captain of the Guard, and without murmuring, suffered him to lead her to her Prison, where she spent the Time in patient Sorrow and absolute Resignation.

Pandosto, mad with the Disappointment of his Revenge upon Egistus, resolved it should fall doubly heavy on the Head of the injured Bellaria, he therefore caused it to be proclaim­ed throughout all his Dominions, that the Queen had committed Adultery with Egistus, and with his Cup-bearer, Franion, had conspir­ed his Death.

Though the Queen's Life had hitherto ap­peared blameless, yet this confident Proclama­tion, and the Flight of the King of Sicily and Franion, raised many Suspicions against her in the Minds of the People, who notwithstand­ing daily offered up Prayers for her Deli­verance.

Her Youth, her Beauty, the Sweetness of her Manners, but above all her Misfortunes, excited every one's Compassion.

[Page 11]But the cruel Pandosto, in whose rocky Bosom Pity could find no Access, resolved to load the unfortunate Bellaria with every Kind of Infamy and Hardship; he would not allow her to be treated in the Prison with the Respect due to the Rank she once held, but caused her to be served and attended with the most cruel Neglect.

The Cruelties he exercised on the Queen did but in Part satisfy his Revenge, he longed to make Egistus feel the Weight of his Fury: But this Monarch was so powerful by his Al­lies, having married the Emperor of Russia's Daughter, that he despaired of ever being able by open Force to accomplish his Re­venge.

The unhappy Queen being informed of the vile Accusation against her so openly proclaimed, conscious of her own spotless In­nocence, and the Integrity of Egistus, earnest­ly intreated that she might be brought to a public Trial, confronted with her Accuser, and allowed to answer for herself.

But the King was so inflamed with Rage and Jealousy that he would not receive her Petition; and while the poor Queen was thus languishing under the Weight of her Calami­ties, and hopeless of Redress, she perceived herself to be quick with Child.

So affecting an Incident in her melancholy Condition drew Complaints from her, which softening the rugged Temper of her Keeper; [Page 12] he caused the King to be immediately inform­ed of it, not doubting but the News would induce him to set her at Liberty.

The Queen's Pregnancy however produced quite a contrary Effect; for the King no sooner heard of it than starting up in a violent Fury, he swore Bellaria and her Bastard should die, even though the Gods themselves should say no.

The Queen, notwithstanding so many cruel Afflictions, was happily delivered of a Daughter; and Pandosto immediately declar­ed his Resolution to have both the Mother and Child burnt.

The Noblemen of his Court used all the Arguments their Reason and Humanity could furnish them with, to prevail upon him to change his barbarous Purpose, but all they could do was to prevent the Murder of the Child.

The Queen's Doom he told them was ir­revocably fixed, but though at the earnest So­licitations of his Nobles, he promised the Child should not be put to Death, yet the Resolution he took concerning it was little less cruel, since by it he only meant to protract its Faté.

He sent a Person to the Prison with Orders to take the Infant from its wretched Mother, and putting it into a Boat and launching it into the Sea, leave it to the Mercy of the Wind and Waves.

[Page 13]The Guards who assisted at this barbarous Deed, moved by the sweet Countenance of the innocent Babe, could not help accusing the King of great Cruelty; nevertheless Fear of his Resentment obliged them to execute his Commands.

They put the Child into a Boat, covering it with Boughs to preserve it from the Incle­mency of the Weather, and set it into the Ocean, when immediately so great a Storm arose, that it was with much Difficulty they got to shore again.

This horrid Deed accomplished, the King assembled his Nobles and Counsellors, and Bellaria was brought into Court, where she heard the Charge against her read.

The Queen, who saw nothing but her Death would satisfy the incensed King, con­fiding in her own Innocence, assumed all the Courage her unhappy Condition required, and with a noble Haughtiness demanded to have Law and Justice; "for Mercy, said she, I do not expect; let my Accusers therefore appear in Court, and give their Evidences be­fore my Face."

Pandosto replied, "that the Witnesses were of such Credit that their Words alone were sufficient; that for her, indeed it was her Part to deny such a monstrous Crime, and forswear herself, seeing that she had overcome all Sense of Shame and Remorse in committing it; ne­vertheless, [Page 14] added he, you shall die, and die a most cruel and ignominious Death."

The Queen, not terrified by these Threats, replied without any Emotion, "that to pro­ceed to Punishment without Proof, was Ri­gour, not Law."

The Nobles approved of what she said, and required that her Accusers should be sworn and openly examined; and if the Queen's Guilt was fully proved, his Majesty might condemn her to suffer the Punishment ordain­ed by the Law for such Offences.

The King answered, "that in this Case he could and would dispense with the Law, and that the Nobles should take his Word for suf­ficient Evidence, otherwise he would make the proudest of them repent it.

This Threat struck them all dumb, but Bellaria, who despaired of Life, and dreaded Infamy more than Death, said, "if his Will must be the Law, the Jury's Verdict will be useless: Then falling on her Knees, she conjured the King by the Love he bore to the young Prince Garrinter his Son, that he would grant her one Request, which was to send six of his Nobles, in whom he placed the greatest Confidence, to the Island of Delphos, and there consult the Oracle of Apollo con­cerning the Crimes she was accused of."

Pandosto could not refuse so reasonable a Request, and having named six Embassadors to be dispatched with all Speed to Delphos, he [Page 15] committed the Queen to close Imprisonment till their Return.

The Ambassadors performed their Voyage in three Weeks, and as soon as they landed at Delphos, they went to the Temple of Apollo, and with great Devotion offered Sacrifices to the God, and Gifts to his Priests, according to Custom, and then humbly besought an Answer to their Demands.

They had not kneeled long at the Altar, when Apollo with a loud Vice said, "Bohemi­ans, what you find behind the Altar take and depart;" they obeyed the Oracle, and found a Scroll of Parchment, which the Priest com­manded them not to open but in the Presence of the King.

The Ambassadors assured him of their ex­act Obedience to his Injunctions, and their Devotions being finished they left the Tem­ple, and sailed with a fair Wind for Bohemia, where they soon arrived, and hastened to Court.

Pandosto received them very graciously, and they after giving him an Account of their Voyage, presented the divine Scroll to him, intreating him at the same Time, since the Queen's Life or Death, her Innocence or Guilt, was contained in that sacred Writing, that he would summon the Nobility to meet in the Judgment Hall, and before them and the accused Queen cause the Oracle to be read.

[Page 16]The King approved of their Advice, and on the Day appointed the King and the No­bles being all assembled in the Court, the Queen was brought to the Bar, and thus spoke.

"How I have led my Life before Egistus came into Bohemia, I appeal, Pandosto, to thy Conscience, and to the immortal Gods; they only know whether I am guilty of the Crimes whereof I am accused; for me, I here protest my Innocence, and for the Truth of what I say, I refer myself to the divine Oracle.

Here Bellaria being silent, the King com­manded one of his Nobles to open the Scroll, which he did, and read aloud the following Words, which were written in Letters of Gold.

OBSERVATIONS on the Use Shakespear has made of the foregoing Novel in his Play called The Winter's Tale.
The Fable of the WINTER's TALE.

POLIXENES, King of Bohemia, and Leontes, King of Sicilia, having been bred together in their Youth, and maintained a strict Friendship and Correspondence with each other after they succeeded to the Thrones of their Fathers; Polixenes desirous of seeing again his beloved Companion, pays him a Visit in his own Dominions, where, after staying a con­siderable Time, he proposes to take Leave and return to his own Kingdom; but Leontes, un­willing to part with him, presses him to a lon­ [...]er Stay; Polixenes refuses; whereupon Leon­tes desires his Queen Hermione to solicit him; she obeys; and Polixenes, at her Request, con­sents to remain a little longer in Bohemia.

Leontes takes Occasion, from the Earnest­ness of his Wife's Entreaties and the easy Compliance of Polixenes, to suspect them both [...]f Adultery; and growing furious with Jea­ [...]ousy, he endeavours to persuade Camillo, one [Page 72] of his Courtiers, whom he had made Cup-Bearer to Polixenes, to poison him.

Camillo promises to perform his Orders, but secretly discovers them to the King of Bohemia, who, thus warned, makes his Escape by Night, accompanied by his Preserver, Camillo.

Leontes, enraged at their Flight, and sup­posing that his Queen was privy to it, pub­licly accuses her of Adultery with Polixenes, and of conspiring with Camillo to take away his Life.

Hermione is sent to Prison, where she is deli­vered of a Daughter: Paulina, an old Lady, Friend to the Queen, carries the Child to Leontes, who swears it is a Bastard, and threat­ens to have both it and the Mother burnt; be­ing with Difficulty dissuaded from this cruel Resolution, he orders Antigonous, the Hus­band of Paulina, to carry the Child to some desert Place, quite out of his Dominions, and there leave it.

Antigonous being instructed in a Dream how to dispose of it, carries it into Bohemia, and leaves it in a Wood, but as he is returning to his Vessel, he is devoured by a wild Bear, and the Ship is wrecked.

Leontes having sent Messengers to Delpho to consult the Oracle of Apollo concerning hi [...] Queen's Infidelity; as soon as they return, th [...] Queen is brought to her Trial, and her Ac­cusation [Page 73] being read, which she courageously denies, and refers to the Oracle, it is broke open and read aloud, and pronounces her In-her Inocence.

The King declares the Oracle is false, and orders the Court to proceed in the Tryal, when a Messenger brings him an Account of the sudden Death of the Prince his Son, the Queen falls into a Swoon at this News, and is carried out.

Leontes, believing the Death of his Son to be a Punishment for his Profanation in deny­ing the Truth of the Oracle, repents his un­just Accusation of Hermione, asks Pardon of Apollo, and resolves to make his Queen Amends, for the Injuries he had offered her.

While he is making these penitent Reso­lutions, Paulina enters, and informs him the Queen is dead. Leontes, in great Affliction, vows to visit her Tomb once in every Day while he lives, and weep ever it.

In the mean Time the little Perdita, his Daughter, is found by a Bohemian Shepherd, who breeds it up as his own Child: Prince Florizel, the Son of Polixenes, falls in love with Perdita, and resolves to marry her. The King, his Father, discovers his Intention, and threatens Perdita with Death if she ever again presumes to receive his Son's Addresses; Camillo, who ardently desired to visit his own Country, Sicilia, and his old Master Leontes, [Page 74] persuades Prince Florizel, since he was deter­mined not to quit Perdita, to steal her away and carry her to Sicilia, and feign an Embassy from his Father to Leontes, which would se­cure him a kind Reception.

Florizel goes on board a Ship with Perdita, and sails to Sicilia, where he is received with great Friendship by Leontes, but immediately after King Polixenes himself arrives, having been persuaded by Camillo to follow his Son, and prevent his Marriage with Perdita.

The supposed Father of Perdita having been decoyed on board the Prince's Vessel, as he was going to the King to discover how he came by Perdita, and to show him the Tokens he found with her; she is by his Means discovered to be the Daughter of Leontes.

Paulina, overjoyed at this happy Discovery, invites the two Kings, with the Prince and Princess, to her House to see a Statue of Her­mione, which she says is just finished, they follow her, and she shews them Hermione her­self, who they supposed dead, standing upon [...] Pedestal; after they have gazed on her some Time, still thinking it was a Statue of the de­ceased Queen, Paulina orders the Music to play, and bids the Statue descend, which it does, and is discovered to be the living Hermione.

Leontes receives her again with Transport Prince Florizel is married to his beloved Perdita [Page 75] and the good old Paulina is rewarded with a­nother Husband, in the Room of her lost Antigonous.

It has been mentioned as a great Praise to Shakespear that the old paltry Story of Dorastus and Fawnia served him for a Winter's Tale, but if we compare the Conduct of the Inci­dents in the Play with the paltry Story on which it is founded, we shall find the Original much less absurd and ridiculous.

If Shakespear had even improved the Story, and cleared it of great Part of its Inconsisten­cies, yet he would still have been accountable for what remained, for why indeed did he chuse a Subject so faulty for the Story of a Play; his Claim to Praise would have been but very small, by making what was bad bet­ter, since he was free in the Choice of his Subject; but certainly he can have no Preten­sions to it at all by changing bad to worse; that he has done so will be easily proved by ex­amining some of the principal Incidents, as they are differently managed by the Novelist and the Poet.

The King's Jealousy is the Foundation of all the Adventures that followed, but extra­vagant as its Consequences are in both, yet the Rise and Progress of this terrible Passion is better accounted for in the Novel than the Play: In the first we are told that Pandosto, charmed with the friendly Visit Egistus paid him in his Dominions, desired the Queen to [Page 76] treat her royal Guest with, the Respect and Esteem that was due to his Merit and the Friendship he had for him; the Queen, like an obedient Wife, complies with her Hus­band's Directions, and perhaps over-acts her Part. The King begins to think he has been too officious; the innocent Familiarity be­tween his Wife and Friend creates Suspicions, which meeting with a Mind prepared by a natural Distrustfulness to receive them, pro­duces those Sparks of Jealousy which his in­terested Observations on all their Looks, Words, and Actions, afterwards blew into a Flame.

This Account of the King's Jealousy does not absolutely clash with Probability. But let us see how Shakespear manages it in the Play; the two Kings make their first Ap­pearance in the second Scene in high Friend­ship and Confidence; Polixenes reminding his Friend of the Length of his Visit, tells him he is now resolved to be gone.

Leontes, not able to part with him, presses him earnestly to stay longer, Polixenes urges the Necessity of his speedy Departure, and truly, as he observes, nine Months is a great while for a good King to be out of his own Dominions.

Leontes, after many fruitless Intreaties, re­proaches his Queen for not endeavouring to detain Polixenes, she, in obedience to his Com­mands, presses him to gratify her Lord by a [Page 77] little longer Stay; Polixenes complies at her Request, and certainly he must be a very ill bred Monarch had he done otherwise.

All this Conversation passes in the Presence of Leontes, who from hence takes Occasion to be jealous, and passes in an Instant from the greatest Confidence, Security, and Friend­ship imaginable, to the last Extremity of Jea­lousy and Rage. What wonderful Contriv­ance is here? The Legerdemain, who shews you a Tree that buds Blossoms and bears ripe Fruit in the Space of five Minutes, does not put so great a Cheat on the Senses, as Shakes­pear does on the Understanding; for this Jealousy of one Minute's Growth we see take Root before our Eyes, and so far from there being the smallest Progression in the several Actions of budding, blossoming, and bear­ing ripe Fruit, that we have the first and the last at one and the same Instant.

The extravagant Effects of the King's Rage and Jealousy are carried far enough in all Conscience in the Novel, and Shakespear is not a Whit more moderate; only he has altered a Circumstance which entirely destroys the lit­tle Probability the Novelist had preserved in the Relation.

In the Story, the King being in his own Mind firmly persuaded of the Queen's Guilt, [...]rders her to be imprisoned, and the Daughter [...]at she was delivered of in Prison to be burnt; [...] the Intreaties of his Courtiers he reverses [Page 78] the Sentence past on the Child, and com­mands it to be exposed in a Boat, but declares that his Queen shall die.

She insists upon being confronted with her Accusers, whereupon she is brought to a Tryal; but finding she was likely to meet with no Jus­tice in a Court over-ruled by the Power of her Husband, she on her Knees protests her In­nocence, and intreats the King to consult the Oracle of Apollo concerning the Crimes of which she was accused. This so reasonable a Request being made in open Court, the King could not refuse it, and therefore sends Am­bassadors to Delphos; who return with the An­swer of the God; which being read, declares her Innocence, and the King is satisfied.

Shakespear makes the King in the Heighth of his Frenzy of Jealousy send himself to the Oracle of Apollo, and in the mean Time com­mit the most barbarous Cruelties on his Queen and Child. How inconsistent is this! why does he consult the Oracle if he is resolved to proceed to Extremities before the Answer ar­rives? The Request comes very naturally from the Queen in the Novel, and the King's Compliance with it is very well accounted for, but in the Play nothing can be more absurd than that the King should be reasonable enough to consult voluntarily the Gods concerning the Infidelity of his Wife; and while the An­swer was expected, and her Guilt yet doubt­ful, punish her with as much Rigour as if the Oracle had declared her an Adultress. Her [...] [Page 79] again the paltry Story has the Advantage of the Play. Let us go on to examine a few more of the Incidents.

In the Novel, the Persons who perform the hateful Office of exposing the Infant Princess are some of the King's Guards.

In the Play, it is a Nobleman of high Rank, who had Courage enough to reprove the King for his violent and unjust Jealousy, yet basely submits to take an Oath to perform his Commands, though he had Reason to think they would not be very mild, and still more basely keeps that Oath, though it enjoins him to carry the innocent Babe to a Desert, and there leave it to the Mercy of the wild Beasts.

In the Novel, the Accidents that happen to the exposed Infant are governed by Chance; the Boat into which it was put being left in the midst of the Ocean, is driven by the Winds to the Coast of Bohemia, and being spied by a Shepherd is drawn to Land.

In the Play, Antigonous, who is bound by Oath to leave the Child in some desert Place quite out of its Father's Dominions, is warn­ed in a Dream by its unhappy Mother to call the Infant Perdita, and carry it to Bohemia, and there leave it.

Antigonous obeys, and this done, it is abso­lutely necessary he should never return to Sicily, otherwise it may be discovered where the Princess is left, and all the future Adven­tures would fall to the Ground, therefore a Bear rushes out of the Woods and devours [Page 80] him; the good-natured Bear, as it should seem, resolved not to spoil the Story, passes by the little Princess, who is to make so great a Fi­gure hereafter, and a convenient Storm arising, splits the Ship in which she was brought thither, so that all the Sailors perishing, though they were near enough the Shore to have sav­ed themselves, no one is left to ca [...]ry back any Account of the Affair to Sicily, and thereby prevent the Adventures which are to follow.

All this is very wonderful: Shakespear mul­tiplies Miracle upon Miracle to bring about the same Events in the Play, which Chance, with much more Propriety, performs in the Novel.

The Loves of the young Prince of Bohemia and the royal Shepherdess are carried on much in the same Manner by the Poet as the No­velist; Shakespear has even borrowed some of the Thoughts from the latter in this Speech of Florizel to Perdita.

[Page 81] Dorastus speaks almost the same Words in the Novel, "The Gods themselves have not disdained to love: Jupiter was enamoured of Danaë, and the bright Apollo woo'd the inex­orable Daphne; these were mortal Beauties, and they were Deities; why then, though a Prince, may not I love a Shepherdess, but their Passions were dishonourable, mine is pure and chaste, 'tis true, and herein I surpass the Gods; be still then, O my Soul, for 'tis decreed, Fawnia, the adorable Fawnia, shall be mine."

The Escape of the two Lovers is very dif­ferently managed in the Novel and Play; in the first, the Prince being pressed by his Fa­ther to marry, resolves to leave Sicily with Fawnia, and fly into Italy, where he intend­ed to live concealed till his Father's Death, or that he could reconcile him to his Marriage with the beautiful Shepherdess; having pro­cured a Ship, and a sufficient Quantity of Money and Jewels, he meets Fawnia early in the Morning and carries her to the Port, they embark, and steer their Course for Italy, but are driven by contrary Winds to Bohemia, where they are obliged to land.

In the Play, Florizel disguised in the Habit of a Shepherd for the Sake of Perdita, as­sists at a Sheepshearing Feast. The King, his Father, being informed of his Son's Resort to the House of a Shepherd, goes there dis­guised with his Confidant, Camillo, and comes [Page 82] very opportunely to hear the Prince, his Son declare his Passion for the Fair Shepherdess pub­licly, and his Intentions of marrying her; nay he carries his Indiscretion so far as to join Hands with her before all the Country People who are present; can any Thing be more absurd?

The King, sufficiently informed of his Son's Designs, discovers himself, and forbids the Bans: this is indeed a terrible Stroke; one would be puzzled to think how the Lovers will escape; for is it not natural to suppose that the enraged King will keep his Son in a strict Con­finement to prevent this unequal Match; but it happens quite otherwise; for the King, after some severe Menaces, goes back to his Palace, and leaves his Son at Liberty to run away with the Country Girl, which he accordingly does.

The Part Camillo acts in this Affair is not more consistent; he longs to see again his old Master Leontes and his native Country Si­cilia, which he had quitted to preserve Po­lixenes, and because this Monarch loved him so well that he could not bear his Absence, and gently denied him Permission to go, Camillo betrays the Confidence he reposed in him, con­sents to the Prince's Flight, and advises him to take Refuge in Sicilia, in Hopes that Polixenes, to whom he intended to discover where the Prince was gone, would follow him, and thus he might again return to his own Country.

This double Treachery and self-interested Views are very inconsistent with the Character [Page 83] of so honest a Man as Camillo is represented to be; besides the Contrivance is absolutely ridi­culous; for what Reason had the Prince to sup­pose that Leontes, who passionately desired to be reconciled to the King his Father, whom he had so greatly injured, would offend him anew by protecting his Son, who had fled from him in order to marry a poor Shepherdess, for he could not expect the Story, however he disguised it, would be long concealed from him; and why should Camillo suppose that Polixenes, when he was informed of his Son's Flight, would quit his Dominions to follow him, and put his Person again in the Power of a King who had once designed to murder him: was it not more likely that he would send Ambassa­dors to demand the Prince of Leontes, who would then have an Opportunity of shewing if his Penitence was sincere by sending him back again; but Shakespear has fallen into all these Absurdities in order to bring the chief Characters in his Play together at Sicilia, tho' for some of them there was not the least Oc­casion.

The several Incidents that lead to the Dis­covery of Fawnia are conducted with some Shadow of Probability in the Novel, but are much the worse for Shakespear's Alterations.

In the Novel Capnio, the Prince's Confi­dant, as he is hastening after him to the Port, meets the Father of Fawnia going to Court, [Page 84] and suspecting his Design, he artfully persuades him to follow him, and, partly by Stratagem, and partly by Force, carries him on board the Vessel in which the Prince and Fawnia were embarked; the old Man had taken with him when he left his House the Chain and Jewels he found with Fawnia in order to shew them to the King and relate the Manner in which he found her; but being prevented in this De­sign by Capnio, who obliged him to be the Com­panion of their Flight, he very prudently con­tinues to conceal from Fawnia the Circum­stance of her Birth; and, to secure to himself a respectful Treatment from the Prince and her, suffers her still to believe him her Father; but when at Bohemia the King of Sicilia's Am­bassadors discover who they are, and the old Shepherd and Fawnia are by the King of Bo­hemia ordered to be put to Death for deluding the Prince of Sicily, he then declares that Faw­nia is not his Daughter, and produces the Chain and Jewels he found with her as Proofs that her Birth was not mean; the King at the Sight of these Tokens knows and acknow­ledges his Daughter.

Thus these Circumstances are altered by Shakespear.—The Prince having changed Cloaths with a cheating Pedlar, escapes with his Mistress to the Ship; the Pedlar imme­diately over-hears a Conversation between the reputed Father of Perdita and his Son, in which it is resolved that he shall carry the Jewels to the King and declare how he found Perdita; the Pedlar supposing it would be an [Page 85] Advantage to the Prince to know this, decoys the old Shepherd and his Son aboard; now one would imagine that all must come out; but see what strange Accidents conspire to hinder it.

The Pedlar, though he over-heard the old Shepherd say that Perdita was a Foundling and not his Daughter, neglects to tell the Prince this important Circumstance, though it was with that very Design he came and forced the two Clowns along with him.

Perdita, though her Father and Brother are in the same Vessel with her, never sees or speaks to them: the old Shepherd and his Son make no Attempts to speak to her; and the Prince has so little Consideration for the Fa­ther and Brother of his Beloved that he takes no Notice of them; how wonderful is all this! the most unlikely Things imaginable fall out to postpone the Discovery of Perdita till their Arrival at Sicily.

The Novel makes the Wife of the jealous King die through Affliction for the Loss of her Son; Shakespear seems to have preserved her alive for the sake of her representing her own Statue in the last Scene; a mean and absurd Contrivance; for how can it be imagined that Hermione, a virtuous and affectionate Wife, would conceal herself during sixteen Years in a solitary House, though she was sensible that [...]er repentant Husband was all that Time con­suming [Page 86] away with Grief and Remorse for her Death; and what Reason could she have for chusing to live in such a miserable Confinement, when she might have been happy in the Pos­session of her Husband's Affection and have shared his Throne: how ridiculous also in a great Queen, on so interresting an Occasion, to submit to such Buffoonery as standing on a Pedestal, motionless, her Eyes fixed, and at last to be conjured down by this magical Com­mand of Paulina.

After this solemn Incantation, her Majesty comes down from the Pedestal and embraces her Husband, and her new found Daughter, for whose Sake she declares she had preserved her Life.

To bring about this Scene, ridiculous as it is, Shakespear has been guilty of many Ab­surdities, which would be too tedious to men­tion, and which are too glaring to escape the Observation of the most careless Reader.

The Novel has nothing in it half so low and improbable as this Contrivance of the [Page 87] Statue; and indeed wherever Shakespear has altered or invented, his Winter's Tale is great­ly inferior to the old paltry Story that furnish­ed him with the Subject of it.

Sir Thomas Hanmer, in his Edition of Shakespear, has this Note at the Beginning of the Winter Tale.

This Country, here called Bithynia, hath in all former Editions been printed Bohemia, an inland Kingdom, situated nearly in the Center of Europe; whereas many of the great Incidents of the Play turn upon its be­ing a maritime Country, of which Polixenes was the King. This is a Blunder and an Ab­surdity, of which Shakespear in Justice ought not to be thought capable, and as he hath turned quite anew the Story contained in the old paltry Book of Dorastus and Fawnia, changing most of the main Circumstances, and all the Names of the Persons; it is pro­bable he removed this Impropriety, and plac­ed the Scene in Bithynia, which the Ignorance and Negligence of the first Transcribers, or Printers, might corrupt and bring back again to Bohemia, by a less Variation in the Letters than they have been guilty of in numberless other Places of this Work.

Shakespear, in his Two Gentlemen of Verona, makes Protheus travel from Verona to Milan by Sea. Yet both those Cities are in­land, and both more than eighty Miles distant from the Sea. Unless this Blunder can be also charged upon the Transcribers, or Printers, 'tis reasonable to suppose that Shakespear, who was guilty of the one, might be so of the other.

THE MENAECHMI. A COMEDY of PLAUTUS. Translated from the French OF Monsieur GUEUDIVILLE.

OBSERVATIONS on the Use Shakespear has made of the Menaechmus of Plautus, in his Comedy of Errors.

SHAKESPEAR's Comedy of Errors has been generally allowed to be founded on the Menaechmi of Plautus. Mr. Langbain, in his Account of the Dramatic Poets, says that if it be not a just Translation of it, it is at least a Paraphrase, and in his Opinion far be­yond a Translation, called Manaechmus, Print­ed at London, 1593.

From this Translation of Plautus's Me­naechmi, Shakespear certainly borrowed his Comedy of Errors; but not being able to pro­cure a Copy of it, and being wholly unac­quainted with the Latin Tongue, I have turn­ed Monsieur Gueudiville's French Translation of the Menaechmi into English, which al­though, as I am informed, it be not very li­teral as to the Dialogue, yet the Plot, the In­cidents, and Characters, being exactly the same with the Latin Poet's, it will serve to shew how much of the Plot Shakespear has borrowed in his Comedy of Errors.

[Page 220]That we may be the better able to trace him in his Imitations, it will be neces­sary to examine the Comedy of Errors Scene by Scene, and take the Story a little higher than the Commencement of the Action of the Play.

The Cities of Syracuse and Ephesus being at War with each other, a Law was made in both, by which it was provided, that if any Ephesian Merchant was seen to traffic in Syracuse, or any Syracusan Merchant in Ephesus, his Goods should be confiscated, and himself condemn­ed to Death.

An old Merchant of Syracuse, named Aegeon, landing at Ephesus, is apprehended upon this Law.

Here the Action of the Play begins, as Aegeon is leading to Prison, the Duke of Ephesus meeting him, demands the Cause of his hav­ing left his native Country, and coming to Ephesus; Aegeon thereupon gives a long Ac­count of himself and his Family, which, in order to understand well the following Inci­dents, I will transcribe.

[Page 225]Here ends the first Scene; the Appearance of Aegeon is of no other Use than to tell the Spectators several Circumstances antecedent to the Action of the Play, which it is necessary they should be acquainted with; this Plautus does in his Prologue.

The Story, though borrowed from Plautus, is yet very different; the Circumstance of two Brothers being so extremely like each other, that it was impossible to distinguish them, is highly improbable in the Latin Poet.

Shakespear however doubles the Miracle, and presents us with two Pair of Twins in­stead of one, with the same wonderful Re­semblance.

Plautus accounts very naturally for the Bro­thers having both the same Name; the Grand­father upon the Loss of the eldest, whom he loved best, to preserve the Remembrance of him, gives his Name to the youngest.

Shakespear, without assigning any Reason for it, makes the Twin Sons of Aegeon be both called Anthipholis, and the Twin Brothers, their Slaves, both Dromio.

The Separation of the Husband and Wife, and their Children, from whence all the di­verting Mistakes in the Comedy of Errors arise, is brought about without the least Re­gard to Probability.

[Page 226] Aegeon sails from Syracuse to Epidamnum, to settle his Affairs there, which were left in Confusion by the Death of his Factor, and his Wife, though near the Time of her Ly­ing-in, follows him, for no Reason indeed but to be delivered at an Inn, where a poor Wo­man, who like her, having born two Male Twins, she may buy them for Slaves to her own Sons; and that returning to Syracuse they may be shipwrecked, and separated from each other.

When the Storm arises the Merchant and his Wife, who, as it shou'd seem, have a View to the diverting Perplexities which are to fol­low, fasten one Antipholis, and one Dromio together, so when the Ship splits they are very conveniently separated. Had they, like other fond Parents, been more sollicitous for the Preservation of their own Offspring than their little Slaves, and used their joint Endeavours for that Purpose only, the Father and Mother, and their Twin Sons, might have been all taken up together by the Corinthian Vessel, but thus equally dividing their Affection between their Children and their Slaves, and that ex­cellent Contrivance of fastening a Twin of each Sort together, occasioned their falling into different Hands, and gave to each Anti­pholis his Dromio, for the future Business of the Play.

The Mother and the elder Antipholis be­ing separated, he and his little Slave Dromio [Page 227] are carried to Ephesus, where in Process of Time he is married to a rich Lady, and set­tles there: Here the younger Antipholis comes to seek for his Brother, and his Father after­wards for him; the old Man is immediately seized, and condemned to die, as has been mentioned, but the Duke respites him for the Space of one Day, in order to try if he can raise the Sum of one Thousand Marks to buy his Life.

In the second Scene Antipholis of Syracuse makes his Appearance with the Merchant of the City, who informing him of what had happened to the Syracusan Merchant, advises him to give out that he came from Epidam­num.

Antipholis of Syracuse sends his Man, Dromio, with a Thousand Marks to lay up safe at his Inn, and being left to himself, de­clares the Cause of his wandering about the World to be the Hopes of finding his Mother and Brother, whose Loss he deplores. While he is standing in the Street, Dromio of Ephesus comes up to him, and taking him for his Master, tells him his Dinner is ready, and that his Wife waits for him.

Antipholis, deceived by the Resemblance, supposes this Dromio to be his Slave, reproves him for his ill timed Jests, and asks him where he had left his Money? Dromio talks of Six­pence he had given him two or three Days ago.

[Page 228] Antipholis asks for his Thousand Marks? Dromio tells him of his Dinner, his House, his Wife, and presses him to come home. Antipholis at last, in a Fury, strikes him, Dro­mio runs off, and Antipholis, full of Uneasi­ness about his Money, returns to his Inn to look after it.

In the second Act the Scene is the House of Antipholis of Ephesus, his Wife complains to her Sister of her Husband's long Stay, and wonders the Slave she sent for him is not re­turned. Dromio then enters, and humorously repeats what had past between his supposed Master and him, declaring that he believes him to be mad, the Wife frets, and orders him to go back again and fetch him.

Yet notwithstanding this Reflexion, the Moment his own Slave, Dromio of Syracuse, appears, he reproaches him with his having denied receiving his Gold, and with talking to him about his Wife, and a Dinner; and though the poor Fellow assures him that he never spoke such Words to him, and had not [Page 229] seen him since he sent him to the Inn till now, yet Antipholis falls into a Rage, and beats him.

A Dialogue of Puns and Quibbles ensues between the Master and Man, which is in­terrupted by the Entrance of Adriana, the Wife of Antipholis of Ephesus, and her Sister.

Adriana, [...] this Antipholis, and this Dromio, [...] band and his Slave, re­proaches him with his Neglect of her, and intreats him to come home to dinner.

Antipholis protests he does not know her, and that he is but just arrived at Ephesus; the Sister chides him, and tells him his Wife had sent for him home to Dinner by Dromio. Dromio is surprised, and denies it. Antipholis ▪ who had had that Message delivered to him by the other Dromio, storms at the Slave for lying, the Fellow assures him he had never seen her. Antipholis asks how she could be acquainted with their Names if he had not seen her be­fore, and informed her of them. Adriana; vexed at this Jesting, as she thinks it, intreats Antipholis to go home with her, and charges Dromio to keep the Gate for that Day, and let no one in to interrupt them.

Antipholis, though amazed to the last De­gree at all this, resolves at last to

In the third Act, the Scene is the Street be­fore the House of Antipholis of Ephesus. An­tipholis of Ephesus, and his Slave Dromio, with a Merchant and a Goldsmith, whom An­tipholis has invited to dine at his House enter.

Antipholis, fearing lest his Wife should be angry at his long Stay, desires the Jeweller to excuse it, by saying that he lingered at his House seeing the making of her Bracelet, and chides his Man for having dared to tell him he met him on the Mart, and charged him with a Thousand Marks in Gold, and with having denied his Wife and House. He then knocks at his Door, but is refused Entrance.

Adriana, who supposes her Husband is dining with her above, is surprised at the Fel­low below, who calls her Wife, and insists upon Admittance, and renews her Orders to Dromio of Syracuse to keep the Door shut.

A smart Dialogue follows between the two Dromio's, the one within Doors and the other without; the Husband and his Guests not be­ing suffered to enter, he resolves to go and dine with a Courtezan at the Porcupine, and desires the Jeweller to bring the Gold Chain thither to him, that as he says, he may, to spight his Wife, bestow it upon the Courte­zan, and accordingly they all go off.

[Page 231]In the next Scene Antipholis of Syracuse makes Love to Luciana, Sister to Adriana, she upbraids him with his Falshood to his Wife; he swears he is not married to her Sister, and that he cannot be happy without her. Luciana threatens to acquaint his Wife with his Trea­chery, and leaves him.

His Slave, Dromio, then enters, and Anti­pholis, from the strange Accidents that had happened both to himself and his Slave, be­lieving the Place inhabited by Witches, re­solves to be gone immediately, and orders Dromio to go to the Harbour, and bring him Intelligence if any Bark was to sail that Night, telling him he will walk in the Mart till his Return.

Dromio goes away to perform his Commis­sion; and the same Moment the Jeweller, Angelo, enters with the Chain, and gives it to Antipholis of Syracuse, whom he takes for the other.

Antipholis denies that he had ever ordered such a Chain to be made, but the Jeweller in­sisting that he had, and telling him that he will call in the Evening at his House for the Money: Antipholis offers to pay him immedi­ately, lest, as he says, he should never see the Chain or Money more, which the Jeweller refusing, and leaving him, Antipholis goes to the Mart to wait for Dromio, which ends the third Act.

[Page 232]In the fourth Act a Merchant, to whom the Goldsmith, Angelo, owes a Sum of Mo­ney, demands instant Payment, or threatens to arrest him by an Officer, whom he has with him. Angelo tells him Antipholis owed him just as much Money as he was indebted to him for a Gold Chain, which he had deli­vered to him a Moment ago, and desired him to go with him to his House to receive the Money for it.

Antipholis of Ephesus, and his Slave, Dromio, enter, as from the House of the Courtezan, where they had dined. Antipholis orders Dromio to go and buy a Rope's-end, that he may chastise his Wife, he says, for locking him out of Doors, and that in the mean Time he will go to the Goldsmith; but seeing him, he reproaches him with not bringing the Chain as he had promised.

Angelo desires him to pay the Money for the Chain to the Merchant there present, to whom he owes as much. Antipholis replies, that he has not so much Money about him, but bids the Jeweller take the Gentleman and Chain to his House, and his Wife would pay for it. Angelo says he gave him the Chain, and presses him to pay for it. Antipholis denies it. The Merchant, weary of this Altercation, ar­rests the Jeweller, and he arrests Antipholis.

Dromio of Syracuse then enters, and taking Antipholis of Ephesus for his Master, tells him that a Ship is ready to sail, and that he had [Page 233] carried their Baggage on board as he com­manded him. Antipholis calls him a Madman, and asks him for the Rope's-end, which he had sent him to buy: Dromio tells him he sent him to the Bay to see if any Bark was ready to sail, not for a Rope.

Antipholis, in a Passion, threatens him with future Punishment, and then orders him to go to Adriana, tell her he was arrested in the Street, and give her the Key of his Desk, and bid her send the Purse of Ducats that was in it to him. Dromio remembers that Adriana is the Lady with whom they had dined, and accordingly he goes thither, tells her what had happened, and she dispatches him away with the Gold.

The Scene then changes to the Street, Antipholis of Syracuse enters alone, and a Mo­ment after Dromio of Syracuse meets him, and gives him the Purse. Antipholis, full of Won­der, questions his Man about it, and he talk­ing enigmatically of Arrests and Durance, An­tipholis thinks him distracted, and prays ear­nestly to be delivered out of that City.

The Courtezan then enters, and seeing the Gold Chain about Antipholis's Neck, whom she takes for Antipholis of Ephesus, who had dined with her, she requires him to per­form his Promise, and give her the Chain in­stead of the Diamond Ring he had taken from her. Antipholis flies from her, and Dromio follows.

[Page 234]The Courtezan, from this strange Behavi­our, concluding him mad, resolves to go to his House, and tell Adriana that he had forci­bly taken her Ring from her, hoping to re­cover it again by this Means. She goes out, and Antipholis of Ephesus enters with the Jaylor, whom he had desired to accompany him to his own House for Money to release him. As they are going thither Dromio of Ephesus returns with the Rope he had been sent to buy; his Master asks him for the Mo­ney he went to fetch from Adriana. Dromio protests he had been sent not for Money, but for a Rope's-end. Antipholis, violently en­raged, beats him, and whilst he is thus em­ployed, his Wife, whom the Courtezan had alarmed with an Account of his being mad, enters with one Pinch, a Conjurer, whom she employed to cure her Husband of his Frenzy.

Antipholis growing furious at this Treat­ment, his Wife calls for People to bind him, the Jaylor opposes it, he being his Prisoner, but upon Adriana's promising to pay him, he suffers Antipholis to be carried off: And as Adriana is going out with the rest, Anti­pholis and Dromio of Syracuse enters with their Swords drawn, and they supposing him to be the Antipholis who they had just before sent away bound, crying out for Help, and Anti­pholis and Dromio again set out for the Port.

[Page 235]In the fifth Act the Scene is a Street before a Priory, the Jeweller, and Merchant who arrested him appear, and while they are dis­coursing about Antipholis's denying that he re­ceived the Chain, Antipholis and Dromio of Syracuse enter. Angelo, seeing him with the Chain about his Neck, reproaches him with having denied the Receipt of it, and refusing to pay for it. Antipholis protests he neither denied the one or the other; the Merchant hereupon taxes him with Fashood, Antipholis draws his Sword, and as the Merchant and he are fighting, Adriana enters, cries out that he is mad, and orders some People she had brought with her to bind both him and Dromio, and carry them home. Antipholis and Dromio to avoid this, take Shelter in the Monastery, and immediately the Lady Abbess appears, and demands the Cause of the others throng­ing thither.

Adriana tells her that her Husband, who ran into her House, is mad, and that she wants to have him fetched from thence, and carried home. The Abbess, after cunningly questioning her concerning her Behaviour to her Husband, and taking Advantage of her Answers, to prove that she had occasioned his Disorders, declares that she will not let him depart, but undertake the Cure herself.

The Duke that Moment, who is attend­ing the Execution of old Aegeon, enters, and Adriana, throwing herself at his Feet, de­mands [Page 236] Justice against the Abbess, whom she accuses of keeping her Husband from her, and recounts all the mad Actions he had been guilty of that Day. The Duke sends to bid the Lady Abbess come out and answer to this Accusation, and in the mean Time a Servant of Adriana's enters, and tells her that his Master and Dromio, who had been left bound at home, had broken loose, and committed the most terrible Outrages on the Doctor and Servants at home, Adriana, who had seen him, as she thought, go into the Priory a few Minutes before, insists upon it that this Re­port is false, when immediately Antipholis and Dromio of Ephesus enter.

Antipholis complains to the Duke of his Wife's having locked him out of Doors; she declares that he had dined with her that Day; Antipholis goes on to relate all that had hap­pened to him. The Jeweller, the Merchant, the Courtezan, his Wife, and her Sister, hav­ing been all deceived by the Resemblance of the two Antipholis's, charge the one they are speaking to with all that had passed between them and the other; his occasions a great deal of Confusion and Perplexity. Old Aegeon, on seeing Antipholis of Ephesus, and taking him for his Son Antipholis, whom he had parted from seven Years before in the Port of Syracuse, tells the Duke that he has now found a Friend who will pay his Fine, and save his Life, and accordingly goes up to him, and naming him, asks him if he does not know his Father.

[Page 237] Antipholis protests he never saw him before; the old Man reminds him that it is seven Years since they parted at Syracuse, and deplores his own Misery in having been so soon for­gotten by his own Son. Antipholis tells him he never saw his Father in his Life, nor was ever in Syracuse, which the Duke confirmed.

In the midst of this new Perplexity the Abbess enters with Antipholis and Dromio of Syracuse, all stand amazed at the exact Like­ness of the two Gentlemen, and their Slaves; the Abbess spying Aegeon, owns herself to be Emilia, his Wife, the Mother of those two Antipholis's and informs him that she and the elder Antipholis, with the Twin Dromio, were taken out of the Sea by Men of Epidamnum, but that some Fishermen of Corinth took away her Son and Dromio, and left her with the Epidamniens, that what became of them af­terwards she never knew, but that herself ar­rived to the Fortune of being Abbess of that Priory.

The two Antipholis's being now discover­ed, all the Mistakes which arose from their Resemblance are cleared up, Aegeon has his Life given him by the Duke, and they all go into the Priory to discourse more at large up­on their several Fortunes.

The Unity of Time is exactly observed in the Comedy of Errors; the Incidents of this [Page 238] Play take up the Space of one Day like those of the Menaechmi; but the Action which in the last is single, and the most simple that can pos­sibly be, is by Shakespear multiplied into se­veral, some of which are far from being either probable or necessary. He has taken all the Characters in the Menaechmi, except Peniculus the Parasite, and the old Man, Father-in-law to Menaechmus of Epidamnum, and has added several others; every one of the Incidents he has likewise made Use of, but varied and ad­ded Circumstances so freely, that his Play seems to be rather an Imitation, than, as Lang­bain calls it, a Translation or Paraphrase of the Menaechmi.

The Addition of the two Dromio's increases the Business of the Play, but renders the Ob­ject still more improbable, which is suffici­ently so in the Menaechmi, where but half the Degree of Credulity is necessary to make it be relished.

The Mistakes which arise from the Resem­blance of the Twins, are conducted with much less Art by Shakespear than Plautus.

In the Latin Poet all appears the Effects of Chance, in Shakespear of Design; the Per­sons in his Drama are hardly ever introduced with Propriety; they appear on the Stage, and go off again, evidently for no other Pur­pose than to give Occasion for the Blunders which ensue.

[Page 239]Thus Antipholis of Syracuse being resolved to leave Ephesus, sends Dromio to the Port to see if any Vessel is ready to sail, and bids him come to him to the Mart, where he will wait his Return, accordingly they separate, and it may now be reasonably supposed that Anti­pholis is gone thither, but instead of that we find him a Scene or two afterwards standing in the same Place, where he is met either by the Wife, the Friends, or the Servants of the other Antipholis; and after having with great Difficulty disengaged himself from a­bundance of perplexing Adventures, again he declares he is going to the Mart, and goes off for that Purpose, and again he is found in the same Place to give Rise to new ones.

In this Manner the whole Business of the Comedy of Errors is conducted. Those Errors do not as in the Play, which Shakespear bor­rowed from, arise out of a natural and pro­bable Succession of Incidents, but every Thing is put out of its Course to introduce them, and each Error is produced by an Absurdity.

The Story of Amleth, translated from the Danish History of Saxo-Gram­maticus.

IN the Reign of Roderic, Hor­wendil and Fengo, Sons of Gerwendil, had the Garrison of Jutland committed to them by the King. Horwendil was the bravest Pirate on the Sea, and for the Fame of his Exploits envied by Coller, King of Norway, who sailed in pursuit of his Rival; they met, they fought, and the King was slain.

The Encounter of these Heroes, with the extraordinary Manner of their Meeting each other alone in the Recesses of a Wood, with other Circumstances as improbable as any in Romance, are related in the true Stile of such Writings, by Saxo-Grammaticus, in the third Book of his Danish History.

[Page 242]After the Death of Coller, and his Sister Selam, Horwendil, having for three Years given the greatest Proofs of Valour, destines his rich Spoils and choice Prey for Roderic, that he might rise in his Friendship. Grown fa­miliar, he obtains his Daughter, Geruth, in Marriage, and by her had a Son, Amleth.

Fengo, fired with Envy at his Brother's Happiness, is resolved, by Treachery, to ruin him. So that Virtue is not always secure a­gainst the Designs of such as are the nearest to, and the most intimate with us. For when an Opportunity offered to commit Fratricide, he with bloody Hand satiates the dire Lust of his Heart, poisoned with Envy; and enjoying the Wife of his murdered Brother, adds foul Incest to his Fratricide. He who submits to one Offence too readily offends again, for one Crime is often the Provocation to another.

He contrived this Villany with such Art and Impudence as to frame an Excuse for his Guilt from counterfeit Benevolence, and give to Fratricide the Colour of Love. Geruth was of so mild a Disposition as never to give the least Offence, and yet he said she had incurred the severest Hatred of her Husband, and that he had killed his Brother for her sake, and to save her, thinking it ungenerous so gentle a Lady, and without Gall, should endure the extream Moroseness of that Man.

His Success was equal to his Wishes, for Princes may be deceived, and made to believe [Page 243] Untruths in Courts where Buffoonery is some­times favoured, and malicious Detraction ho­noured. Fengo hesitated not with murderous Hands to embrace a Brother's Wife, and with equal Villany commits a double Impiety.

Amleth sees this, but that he might not raise Suspicions in his Uncle by an over prudent Care for his own Safety, puts on the Guise of Folly, and feigns himself distracted, and by this Sort of Device he not only covers his Design, but saves himself. He lazily stretch­ed himself out every Day before his Mother's Hearth, rolling on the Ground, and covering himself with Filth; his Face discoloured and besmeared with Gore and Nastiness, presented the ridiculous Extravagance of a Natural. Whatever he said was like the Ravings of a Madman; whatever Action he performed sa­voured of extream Ignorance. In short, you would not say he was a Man, but a ridiculous Monster, produced by Fortune in a Frenzy.

Sometimes sitting by the Fire, and raking the Embers with his Hand, he would make wooden Hooks, and harden them in the Fire, and fasten the Ends within one another, that they might hold more firmly together; and when asked what he was about, would say he made sharp Spikes to revenge his Father.

He was not a little laughed at for this An­swer. The Vanity of such a ridiculous Per­formance was treated with Contempt by all, [Page 244] though it afterwards was of Use to him in the Prosecution of his Design.

This Ingenuity gave to those of better Judg­ment the first Suspicion of his Subtilty. The latent Ability of the Workman for greater Matters was seen by his Skill in lesser ones. Nor could it be thought that his Senses were impaired, who by the Work of his Hands discovered such ingenious Artifice. Besides, he preserved his Heap of Brands that he had burnt at the Points to make them hard with the greatest Care.

There were those, who asserting that he was of uncommon Strength and Quickness of Parts, that he hid his good Sense under the Pretence of Folly, and covered the deep De­sign of his Mind with crafty Invention, and that his Advice could not be more readily dis­covered than by introducing to him at any Time in his Recesses a beautiful Woman, who might call forth his Mind to the Allure­ments of Love.

So prone is Nature to the Passion of Love, that no Artifice can disguise it, and it is too violent to be interrupted by Policy. And therefore, if his Ignorance were counterfeit he would, when Occasion offered, yield Obe­dience to the Power of Love.

Certain Companions therefore are employ­ed, who should engage him to ride to distant [Page 245] Parts of the Forest, and try him with that Temptation.

Amongst them there happened to be a Youth, who had the same Nurse with Amleth, and still preserved in his Heart the Regard that naturally arises in those who are brought up together.

He preferring the Remembrance of former Fellowship to the present Charge, attends up­on Amleth, with the rest of his appointed Comrades, with a Purpose to inform rather than betray him; which he could not doubt would happen at last if he discovered the least Sign of a sound Mind, and especially if he should openly indulge the Passion of Love.

Which was no Secret to Amleth himself; for when commanded to get on Horseback he purposely seats himself so as to turn his Back to the Horse's Head, and face his Tail, to which he began to apply the Bridle, as if he was by that Part to govern the Speed of his Horse. By means of this Contrivance he baffles the Design of his Uncle, and defeats his Arts. It was very ridiculous to see the Horse go forward without the usual Check of the Reins, the Rider directing only the Tail.

Amleth in the Way met with a Wolf a­mongst the Trees; his Companions saying they had met with a young Horse, he replied there were few such in Fengo's Troops; by [Page 246] this modest and witty Prevarication he rallied the Riches of his Uncle.

When they added that he had made a sensi­ble Answer; he affirmed that he intended that he might so to do, not in any Degree seem to favour a Falshood. For desiring to be thought incapable of lying, he blended Craft and Truth together that he might not seem entirely to de­viate from Veracity in whatever he said, nor discover the Richness of his Parts by too much Exactness.

Passing along the Shore, when his Compa­nions found the Rudder of a ship-wrecked Vessel, they said they had found a Knife of prodigious Size: It is therefore fit, says he, to cut up a large Ham, meaning the Sea in­deed, to which the Size of the Rudder did well agree. Passing also by the sandy Clifts, and being directed to look upon the Beach, as if it were Corn, he said the same was ground by the foaming Billows of the Sea. This Answer being commended by his Attendant, be assured them it was discreetly said by him.

Being left by them on Purpose, that he might with greater Freedom indulge his Lust, in a private Place he meets a Girl, sent by his Uncle, as if it were by Chance, and would have lain with her, had not the Foster-bro­ther warned him of the Snare by a secret kind of Information.

[Page 247]For he, considering how he might best dis­charge the Office of an unknown Monitor to his Friend, and prevent the Danger of his wanton Appetite, fixed a Straw he found on the Ground in the Tail of a Buzze, or Bee, flying by, and drove him towards the Place where he knew Amleth was. By this Act he conferred the greatest Benefit on the unguard­ed Youth.

Nor was this Notice more cunningly con­veyed than readily understood; for Amleth see­ing the Fly, and the Straw that he carried in his Tail, and having carefully considered it to be a tacit Admonition to beware of Frauds: Alarmed therefore with the Suspicion of inju­rious Designs against him, that he might more securely indulge his Wishes, he catch­ing the Girl in his Arms, carries her a consi­derable Distance into a Marsh, and unfre­quented, and after Enjoyment earnestly in­treats her not to declare it to any one.

With equal Concern therefore is Silence urged and obtained. For their being brought up together under the same Guardians from their Infancy, produced the greatest Famili­arity between her and Amleth.

Upon his Return home, being asked by every one whether he had gratified his Lust, he owned he had lain with the Girl. Being asked again in what Place he had done it, or what Pillow he had used, answered, The Hoof [Page 248] of an Animal that carries a Burthen, ^§ the Comb of a Cock, and under an arched Roof. He had put all these Particulars, when under Trial, that he might avoid the telling a Lie. This Account excited much Laughter in those about him, although, for the Jest sake, he did not diminish any Thing of the Truth.

The Girl also being questioned (kept her Word with him) and declared he had done no­thing. Credit is given her, and the rather, as it appeared that his Guards knew nothing of the matter. Then he who had marked the Buzze for a Token, to shew that the Safety of Amleth was owing to his Conceit, said that he was lately the only one who took Care of him, and that the young Man's An­swer was to the Purpose.

Nor was the Merit of the Token forgot: he related how he saw the little Carrier of the Straw with hasty Flight passing near him, and that the Straw was stuck in the hinder Parts of his Body. As this Relation excited greater Laughter in the rest, the Friend of Amleth was no less delighted with his Pru­dence.

All of them being defeated, and unable to gain Admittance into the Secrets of this young Man's Stratagems; one of the Friends of Fengo, more presumptuous than politic, deni­ed [Page 249] that this unextricable Scheme of Subtilty could be unravelled by common Artifice; for he was too obstinate to be moved by Trials of little Moment: An ordinary manner of Trial would not reach such Variety of Craft. But he had discovered by superior Sagacity a more subtle Manner of trying him, not improper for Execution, but most effectual for the Dis­covery of the Thing proposed.

The Scheme was this, "That Fengo should under the Pretence of Business of great Con­sequence withdraw himself, and Amleth be shut up with his Mother alone in her Apartment, Care being taken to have a Man, who un­known to either of them, should be placed in some secret Part of the Room unseen, to hear attentively whatever passed in Conversa­tion between them. For if the Son was really in his Senses he would have no Difficul­ty in speaking freely to a Mother's Ear, nor mistrust the Fidelity of her that bore him. And that he might not seem more forward to advise than ready to execute, he desired him­self to be the Spy.

Fengo approved the Scheme, and sets out with the Pretence of taking a long Journey.

Mean while the Projector having privately stole to the Chamber where Amleth and his Mother were, lay hid under the Matt of the Bed.

[Page 250]But Amleth was not the Dupe of this Trea­chery. For suspecting that he might be over­heard by some officious Listener, he has at first Recourse to his accustomed Folly, and imitates the crowing of a Cock, and flapping his Arms as if they were Wings, he jumps up and down upon the Bed to try if any Thing lay hid there. And when he found a Mass under his Feet he examined the Place with his Sword, and stabs the Man who was under­neath, and dragging him forth put him to Death. Cutting the Body in Pieces, he boils them, and pours them out through the Sewer to be devoured by the Hogs.

And thus was the miserable Body rendered undistinguishable from the Dung of the Stye.

Having escaped this Snare, he returns to his Mother's Apartment, and when she with great Lamentation and Tears began to bemoan the want of Understanding in her Son now present, "Why; O! worst of Women, says he, dost thou endeavour to disguise the foulest Crime under a false Species of Wailing? Thou, who sporting with the Wantonness of a Strum­pet, and yielding to the vile and impious Condition of your second Marriage, embrace in your incestuous Bosom the Murderer of your Husband, and fawn upon, and please with lewdest Transport the very Man who put to death the Father of your Offspring; so Mares are coupled with Horses that subdued their Foremates. It is for Beasts alone to be [Page 251] dragged to any, and to every Male. By this Example it appears that you have lost all Memory of your former Husband. It is not without Reason that I bear the Resemblance of a Fool; for I cannot doubt that he who could destroy a Brother would with like Cruelty rage against his other Kindred. It is safer to wear the Garb of Folly than of Sense, and I must borrow a Safeguard from the lowest Species of Madness. Yet the Care of revenging my Father is ever present to my Mind, but I wait for Times and Seasons. The same Place suits not with every Scene or Purpose against a dark and cruel Mind, much Thought is re­quisite. But for you to lament my Madness is vain, when you ought rather to deplore your own Infamy; you should therefore not lament another's but your own Failing, for the rest be on your Guard and keep the strictest Silence. By such Reproach did he endeavour to recall his Heart-rent Mother to the Practice of for­mer Habits of Virtue, and to teach her to prefer the former Flames of chaster Love to the present criminal Transports."

Fengo returns, and of every one, and every where enquires for his injudicious Spy; but he is no more to be found, nor does any one re­member to have seen him. Amleth, in jest, is asked whether he could discover any Tracts of him; and replies, "that he went in at the Sewer, fell to the Bostom, was kept down by the Mud, and devoured by the Hogs, who thronged to the Draught." Which Declara­tion, [Page 252] though true, seeming idle and foolish, was treated as ridiculous.

When Fengo no longer doubted of the Sub­tilty of his Son-in-law, he resolved to destroy him, but was afraid to execute his Purpose on account of his Grandfather, Roderic, and the Displeasure of his own Wife. To cover his Guilt by the Service of another, he purposes to have him destroyed by means of the King of Britain. Thus desirous of con­cealing his Cruelty, he chuses rather to pol­lute his Friend than to be thought infamous himself.

Amleth, departing in secret, directs his Mother to furnish the Hall with Hangings well knotted together, and at the Expiration of a Year to report him dead, and celebrate his funeral Obsequies, and at that very time he promises to return.

He is attended by two of Fengo's Officers, bearing Letters inscribed on Wood (for that was once a famous Manner of Writing) by which it was given in Charge to the King of Britain to destroy the young Man that was sent to him.

Whilst these Officers slept, Amleth examin­ing their Baggage discovers these Tablets; having read them, he rubs out what was writ­ten therein, and inserting other Characters, changes the Tenor of the Mandate from his own Destruction to the Death of his At­tendants. [Page 253] Nor satisfied with this Alteration, whereby he saves his own Life and exposes that of his Guards, he adds, as the earnest Entreaty of Fengo, that the King of Britain would be­stow his Daughter in Marriage upon that Youth he had sent him, who was most wise and prudent.

When they came to Britain the Envoys waited on the King, and presented the In­strument for their own Destruction, though they thought it threatned not them but their Companion.

The King, taking no Notice to them of the Instructions delivered him, entertains them with great Magnificence and Hospitality, when Amleth, despising the Splendor of the royal Tables as if they contained but common Food, abstains in a surprising Manner from the richest Exhibition of Dainties, both in Meats and Drinks.

All admired that a Youth of foreign Ex­tract should nauseate the choicest Dainties of the royal Board and most excellent Luxury, as if it were coarse and homely Fare.

The Banquet ended, the King dismissed his Friends that they might retire to Rest, but took Care, by one sent privately and hid in their Apartments, to be informed of the Con­versation of his Guests. When Amleth be­ing asked by his Comrades why he abstained from the Entertainment of Yesterday as from [Page 254] Poison? "replied that the Bread was sprinkled with the Contagion of Blood, that the Wine tasted of the Sword, that the animal Food savoured of the Corpse of a dead Man, and was as offensive as the Smell of a Sepulchre."

He added "that the King had mean Eyes, that the Queen in three Instances resembled a Servant;" railing not only at the Feast but at the Authors of it.

His Companions, upbraiding him with his former want of Understanding, began to abuse him for having found Fault with approv­ed good Things, blamed what was proper, and slandered with indecent Language a great King, and a Queen of refined Manners, and treated with Disgrace and Indignity those who really deserved Applause.

Which Circumstances being related to the King by his Officer, he declared the Wisdom or Madness of him who had related such Things of more than mortal Growth in so few Words to shew such Extent of Know­ledge. He sent for the Steward, and enquir­ed of him where he had the Bread, and when he was told that it was made by the Baker to the Houshold, he asked again where the Corn grew, and if there was any Sign of human Slaughter in that Place?

He answered "that there was a Field not far off covered with the Bones of Men long since slain, yet manifestly exhibiting the Remains [Page 255] of ancient Slaughter, which he, with Expec­tation of greater Plenty, as the richer Soil had sown with Spring Corn, and therefore he did not know whether the Bread might not have contracted a disagreeable Taste."

When the King heard this, believing Amleth had spoken Truth, he took Care to know whence the Bacon came.

The Man owned that the Swine, straying from his Care, had fed upon the Carcase of a Thief, and so perhaps the Meat might taste something like Corruption.

When the King found that his Opinion was true, demanded in this Instaece likewise with what Liquor he had mixed the Drink? as he knew it to be made of Corn and Water; the Situation of the Spring being shewn him he set about digging, and found many Swords eaten with Rust, from whence he supposed the Water had contracted that Smell.

Others said the Drink was found fault with because in the Draught he had met with Bees that had been bred in the Belly of a dead Man, and tasted of Comb. By which the King, seeing there was sufficient Reason to complain of the Taste of these Things, finding that he himself was reproached on account of his Eyes, and knowing that this must allude to Baseness of Birth, taking his Mother aside, de­manded of her who was his Father, she de­claring she knew no other than the King, by [Page 256] threatning her with Death unless she confessed; he discovered himself to be the Son of a Servant.

Thus by the extorted Confession he came to understand that his Origin, which had been reflected on, was at least ambiguous. He is confounded with Shame at this Discovery of his Condition, but no less charmed with the young Man's Wisdom; and asked him why he had reproachfully slurred the Queen as one of servile Manners? But whilst he laments that the gentle Disposition of his Wife was attack­ed by the Discourse of his Guest in the Night, he learns that her Mother was a waiting Wo­man; and whereas he said she exhibited three Defects of a servile Nature, they are these. One, "that she dressed her Head in the same Manner as Servants do, another, that she tucked up her Gown in walking, the third was, that she picked her Teeth with a Skewer, and eat the Pickings of them. He took No­tice that her Mother was reduced to Servitude by becoming a Captive, so that she was not less servile in her Birth than her Manners."

Such Sagacity being reverenced by the King, as if it were divine, he gave him his Daughter in Marriage, and received his Affir­mation of any Thing as if it bore the Testi­mony of Heaven. But as for his Compani­ons, that he might perform the Behest of his Friends, he hanged them up the next Day, which, though an Advantage, Amleth seemed to resent as an Injury, feigning a Distress of Mind, and received Money by way of Com­position [Page 257] from the King; which he afterwards took Care secretly to melt down and pour in­to hollow Staves.

Having stay'd with him a Year, he obtains Leave to depart, and returns home again, taking nothing out of the Magazine of royal Treasure but the hollow Staves, in which he had poured the Gold. When he arrived at Jutland, he resumed his old Behaviour, chang­ing his late Elegance for the ridiculous Man­ner he had before employed. And when he entered the Hall, covered with Nastiness, where the Funeral Rites were celebrated, he threw every body into great Amazement, be­cause a false Report had been spread of his Death. At length their Astonishment was turned into Laughter, and the Guests rallied each other upon the Presence of him alive, to whom they had performed Honours as dead.

When questioned concerning his Compani­ons, he said, shewing the Staves he held, "Here is both the one and the other;" which was said with equal Wit and Truth, for though it ap­peared an unmeaning Speech to most who heard it, yet swerved not from his customary regard to Truth, shewing the Compensation instead of the Men that were executed.

Then mixing with the Waiters, that he might heighten the Mirth of the Table, he supplied them with Liquor with more than or­dinary Diligence, and that his flowing Habit might not obstruct his moving up and down, [Page 258] he girt it round him with his Belt, and often with Design, drawing his Sword, he cut his Fingers with the Point; Care therefore was taken by those about him to fasten his Sword in the Scabbard with a Nail.

That he might the more securely effect his Purpose he charged the Nobility with Excess of Liquor, till all were overcame with Drink­ing, and, unable to walk, were obliged to take up their Rest in the Hall, and sleep where they had been feasting. And when he observed them in a Condition fit for his Designs, be­lieving the Execution of it was in his Power, he puts the Brands he had formerly prepared into his Bosom, and then re-entering the Hall where the Nobles lay stretched on the Ground, oppressed with Sleep and Surfeit, he let fall the Curtain his Mother had wove, by cut­ting the Lines that held it round the sides of the Room, which he drew over them, and fastened with the Hooks in so artful a Manner, that not one of them, though he strove with never so much Strength, could possibly get up.

After this he sets fire to the Room, which spreading far and wide, soon set the whole House in a Blaze, destroyed the Palace, and burnt all, both those that continued asleep, and those who laboured to rise but in vain. Thence hasting to Fengo's Apartment, who had been before conducted thither by his Attendants, he took his Sword that hung [Page 259] by his Bed, and put his own in its room; then rousing his Uncle, he told him that his Nobles were destroyed by Fire, that Amleth was there, and furnished with the Hooks he had formerly made, and was now present with him eager to inflict the Venge­ance due for his Father's Death.

On hearing this, Fengo jumps from his Bed, and was murdered, while disappointed of his own he vainly endeavours to draw Amleth's Sword. O! brave Man! and worthy everlast­ing Renown, who, furnishing himself wisely with counterfeit Folly, covered more than human Wisdom under the Guise of a Na­tural, not only secured his own Safety by that Artifice, but obtained the Means of compleatly revenging his Father, and having so done, it is left for every one to judge which was greater, his Bravery or Wisdom.

OBSERVATIONS on the Use Shakespear has made of the foregoing Story in his Tragedy of Hamlet.
The Fable of the Tragedy of Hamlet.

CLAUDIUS, the reigning King of Den­mark, having secretly murdered his Bro­ther, in order to possess himself of his Throne afterwards, married his Widow; the Ghost of the deceased King appears to some Cen­tinels, who were posted on the Platform before the Palace; these Soldiers tell Marcellus, their Officer, what they had seen, and he ac­quainting Horatio, the Friend of Hamlet, Son to the deceased King, with it; these two Gen­tlemen watch one Night on the Platform, with an Intention to speak to the Apparition if it should appear. The Ghost at the accustomed Hour appears. Horatio solemnly conjures it to speak, and unfold the Cause of its Appearance, but the Ghost continues silent and stalks away.

Horatio thereupon resolves to tell Hamlet what had happened; the Prince, full of Grief [Page 262] for his Father's Death, displeased at his Mo­ther's incestuous Marriage, and discontented with the Behaviour of his Uncle, immediately concludes from this Account of his Father's Spirit appearing that all was not well, and de­clares to his two Friends that he will watch with them that Night on the Platform, and speak to the Spirit.

Accordingly at Midnight he meets them at the appointed Place, and the Ghost soon after appearing, Hamlet in a most earnest and af­fecting Manner conjures it to speak, and ac­quaint him with the Cause of its appearing. The Ghost beckens him to follow it; his Companions, apprehending some Danger might happen to his Person, endeavour to re­tain him, hut in vain, Hamlet breaks from them and follows the Ghost, who bringing him to a remote Place declares that he is the Spirit of his Father, that he was poisoned in his Garden by his Brother, who lusted for his Wife and Crown; he then charges him to re­venge his Murder, and vanishes.

Hamlet vows to fulfil his Commands, and to conceal the Grief and Indignation which prey upon his Heart, and his vowed Purpose of Revenge, counterfeits Madness; which alarm­ing the guilty King, and troubling his Mother, they send for two of his School-fellows to a­muse him, and engage him in Diversions to abate the Force of his Melancholy.

[Page 263] Polonius, an old Lord, very faithful to the King's Interests, and whose Daughter, Ophelia, Hamlet is in Love with; from her Report of a frantic Visit he made her, con­cludes he is mad for her; she having, accord­ing to his Orders, returned his Letters and Presents, and refused to hear his Professions as usual. Pollonius, having as he thought dis­covered the Cause of Hamlet's Madness, ac­quaints the King and Queen with his Suspici­ons: Ophelia is designedly thrown in his way, while the King and Polonius conceal them­seves to hear their Discourse.

Hamlet, after uttering a great many sensible Extravagancies, leaves Ophelia firmly con­vinced of his Madness, which she affection­ately deplores; but the King, who had heard all his Discourse, being persuaded that Love was not the Cause of his Melancholy, and that there might be Danger in it, resolves to send him to England to demand the Tribute, the Payment of the Tribute which had been long neglected.

Polonius, to whom he communicates this Scheme, approves of it, but advises that the Queen should first send for him, and in a pri­vate Conversation intreat him to discover the Cause of his Uneasiness.

The King consents, mean Time Hamlet having engaged some Players to represent a Piece something like the Murder of his Father, [Page 264] invites the King and Queen to the Play; and he doubting that the Spirit that appeared to him might be a lying Spirit, resoves to make the Play the Test of the King's Conscience; he therefore desires his Friend, Horatio, to join with him in carefully observing the King's Countenance during the Representation of one particular Scene, which resembles the Circumstance of his Father's Death, adding,

Accordingly the King is so much struck with that Scene that he rises abruptly and goes out, by which Hamlet is convinced that the Ghost had told him nothing but Truth. The Queen then sends for Hamlet with an Intention to question him concerning his late Behaviour, and Polonius, with her Consent, conceals himself behind the Arras to hear their Discourse.

The Queen being frighted at her Son's rude Treatment of her, cries out for Help, Po­lonius behind the Arras echoes her, and Hamlet, supposing it was the King who had concealed himself there, kills him.

After a severe Lecture to his Mother, he charges her not to discover that his Madness is feigned, declares that he suspects some Treason in the Embassy he is sent on to Eng­land, [Page 265] yet resolves to go, and madly takes Leave of the King and her for that Purpose.

Ophelia, at the News of her Father's being murdered by Hamlet, grows distracted; her Brother, Laertes, fired by Rage and Grief, raises a Mutiny to revenge his Father. The King declares that he is innocent of his Fa­ther's Death, informs him of the Manner of it, and joins with him in conspiring the Mur­der of Hamlet.

Hamlet, suspecting the Letters his two Schoolfellows carried to England contained some dangerous Instructions concerning him­self, steals them, and upon examining them finds therein an earnest Request from his Uncle to the King of England, to put him to Death on his Arrival at his Court.

Hamlet suppresses this Letter, and writes another in the Name of his Uncle to the same King, in which he desires him to put the Bearers of that Letter to Death; this Packet he lays in the Place from whence he had taken the other.

The next Day they are attacked by a Py­rate, they fight, and Hamlet boarding it alone, is taken Prisoner, and his two Companions continue their Voyage to England.

Hamlet prevails upon the Pirates to land him in Denmark; the King hearing of his Re­turn, urges Laertes, who breathes nothing but [Page 266] Revenge against him, to kill him treacherous­ly as they are fencing with Foils, to which he will engage him, by pretending to lay a Wa­ger on his superior Skill at that Exercise.

Laertes consents, and adds that he will anoint the Point of his Sword with a strong Poison, that if he draws Blood he may be sure to kill him.

In the mean Time the distracted Ophelia is accidentally drowned; the King, the Queen, and her Brother attend her Funeral: As soon as she is laid in the Earth, Laertes, in a Tran­sport of Grief, leaps into her Grave. Hamlet, understanding that it is Ophelia whom they had buried, wildly asserting his Claim as a Lover to superior Sorrow, leaps into the Grave like­wise, where Laertes, quite overcome with Rage and Grief, furiously fastens on him; they are with Difficulty parted by the King's Command, and some time after the King, as if nothing had happened, sends a Message to Hamlet, requesting him to fence with Laertes for a considerable Wager; Hamlet obeys, they meet in a Hall, the King and Queen be­ing present.

The King, to make sure Work, after drinking Hamlet's Health, poisons the Wine, and offers the Cup to Hamlet; he refuses it, and the Queen, not knowing that the Wine is poisoned, drinks, though the King endea­vours to prevent her. Laertes wounds Ham­let with the poisoned Rapier, in the Scuffle [Page 267] they change Weapons, and Hamlet wounds Laertes, they both bleed; the Queen is seiz­ed with the Agonies of Death, she tells her Son that the Wine is poisoned, and expires.

Laertes, full of Remorse for the Treachery he had been guilty of, confesses the whole Contrivance, and the Part the King had in it. Hamlet stabs the King with the poisoned Sword that had wounded both him and Laertes, and upon the King's calling for Help obliges him to drink of the Wine he had poisoned.

The King dies, and Hamlet and Laertes exchanging Forgiveness with each other, both expire. Hamlet with his last Breath com­manding his Friend, Horatio, who would have killed himself, to live and do Justice to his Fame, by declaring his Story to the World.

The Translation of the Story of Amleth from the Danish History of Saxo-Grammati­cus, I was favoured with by a Friend; the Story itself is full of ridiculous Fancies, wild and improbable Circumstances, and as it is con­ducted, has more the Appearance of a Ro­mance than an Historical Fact.

That Shakespear founded his Tragedy of Hamlet upon it is very plain, but is it uncer­tain whether he saw a literal Translation of it, or met with the Incidents drest up like a Novel, and perhaps with those Alterations which he has adopted in his Play. All the principal Circumstances are the same in the [Page 268] Play as the History. In both a Prince mur­ders his Brother, usurps his Dignity, and marries his Widow: The Son of the mur­dered Prince resolves to revenge his Father; for that Purpose he feigns himself mad, and at last accomplishes his Design; several of the lesser Circumstances are also as exactly co­pied, and others have afforded Hints for new ones.

Amleth has a private Interview with his Mother, and kills the Spy who had been ap­pointed to overhear their Conversation. Hamlet likewise visits the Queen in her Apartment, and kills Polonius, who had concealed himself behind the Hangings.

When the Spies are removed the Discourse of the two Princes is much the same; they reproach their Mothers with their incestuous Marriage, sharply reprove them for their Crimes declare their Madness to be feigned, and enjoin them to Secresy.

The Embassy to England is designed after the History. Shakespear indeed makes Hamlet, after two Days Absence, be set on shore a­gain at Denmark; and Amleth in the History arrives in England, has his Companions hang­ed, and marries the King's Daughter before he comes back. But Shakespear's Plan re­quired the immediate Return of Hamlet; however the Contrivance of changing the Let­ters are the same, and of punishing the trea­cherous Bearers of them. Shakespear makes [Page 269] those Bearers the Schoolfellows, and profest Friends of Hamlet; a Circumstance which heightens their Baseness, and justifies the Ar­tifice he uses to procure their Punishment.

The Design of entrapping Amleth by means of a Girl, has not been wholly neglected by Shakespear, though he manages this Incident much more decently. Ophelia, with whom he is in Love, is ordered to throw herself in his way, and the King and his Confident listen to their Conversation. 'Tis very easy to see he took the Hint of this Stratagem from the Story, though it is very differently conduct­ed, for Ophelia is not a loose Wanton as in the History, but a Woman of Honour, with whom he is in love. The accidental killing of her Father, and her Distraction, which was caused by it, is all his own Invention, and would have made a very affecting Episode if the Lady had been more modest in her Frenzy, and the Lover more uniformly af­flicted for her Death; for at his first hearing it he expresses only a slight Emotion; pre­sently he jumps into her Grave, fiercely de­mands to be buried with her, fights with her Brother for professing to love her, then grows calm, and never thinks of her any more.

The Ghost is wholly the Invention of Shakespear, as is likewise the King's concert­ed Scheme with Laertes, to kill Hamlet trea­cherously as they fenced, or if he failed to poison the Wine. The King is killed by Hamlet both in the History and the Play, but [Page 270] in the Play he is stabb'd in the midst of his Friends, Guards, and Attendants; in the History as he is rising in Confusion from his Bed, and unable to draw his Sword to defend himself.

Here the Historian, romantic as his Relati­on seems, has the Advantage of the Poet in Probability. After Amleth has secured his Uncle's Attendants, taken away his Sword from him, and placed his own, which was fastened to the Scabbard, in its stead; it was not difficult for him to kill him disarmed, and without any Assistance.

But Shakespear makes Hamlet execute his Vengeance on the King in a public Hall, crouded with his Attendants and Guards, and surrounded by his Friends; none of these of­fer to assist him, and Hamlet has leisure enough after he has stabbed him to make him drink some of the Wine he had poisoned, lest his Sword had not compleated the Work.

The Queen's Death, by drinking ignorantly of the poisoned Wine is a beautiful Stroke of the Poet's. The History shews her unfortu­nate, but Shakespear makes the same Man who seduced her to Wickedness be her invo­luntary Murderer, and at once the Cause and Punisher of her Guilt.

Shakespear has with Reason been censured for the Catastrophe of this Tragedy. The brave, the injured Hamlet falls with the Mur­derers [Page 271] he punishes; one Fate overwhelms a­like the innocent and the guilty. In the History we find he did not live long after the severe Revenge he took for his Father's Mur­der, but was unfortunately killed in Battle. Shakespear would not so far deviate from the History as to leave him happy and in Peace, though he has hastened his Death as well as changed the Manner of it. He is killed by the treacherous Contrivance of the King, and Laertes is the Instrument of that Treachery, which is afterwards turned upon himself.

As Laertes is a subordinate Character in the Play, it seems to be a Fault in Shakespear to shew him with a Similitude of Manners, under the same Circumstances, and acting up­on the same Principles as Hamlet, his Hero. Laertes is brave and generous; his Father is murdered basely as he is informed; Duty and Honour incite him to revenge his Death, and he does so.

This Sameness of Character, and Parity of Circumstances with the Hero, lessens his Importance, and almost divides our Attention and Concern between them; an Effect which Shakespear certainly did not intend to produce, nor can it be lessened by the Consideration of the treacherous Measures Laertes was prevail­ed upon to enter into against Hamlet, who had murdered his Father. In this he does not differ much from Hamlet, who did not attempt by open Force to revenge his Father's Mur­der [Page 272] on his Uncle, but designed to accomplish it by Subtilty and Craft.

The same Equality is preserved in their Deaths, and in their Actions throughout the Play. Laertes wounds Hamlet with the poi­soned Weapon, in the Scuffle they change Rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes, and they exchange Forgiveness with each other be­fore they die.

Thus has Shakespear, undesignedly, no doubt given us two Heroes instead of one in this Play; the only Difference between them is that one of them is a Prince, the other a No­bleman, and but for this slight Distinction the Play might have been as well called the Tra­gedy of Laertes as Hamlet.

It ought to be observed that Shakespear has not been led into this Error by the History; the Character of Laertes, and all the Circum­stances relating to him is his own, which he has introduced by making the Spy, who is killed, Father of Laertes.

The Madness of Hamlet seems to be less essential to the Play than the History; in the latter it affords him the Means of executing a Contrivance, which, absurd as it is, secures the Accomplishment of his Revenge; but in the Play it is of no other Use than to enliven the Dialogue, unless its Usefulness may be de­duced from its bringing on such Accidents as it was assumed to prevent; for Hamlet's Mad­ness [Page 273] alarms the King's Suspicion, and that produces the treacherous Embassy to England, which failing, the Contrivance of the poison­ed Rapier followed, and that does the Busi­ness.

But since the King's conscious Guilt and Terror might reasonably have created a Distrust of Hamlet, and that Distrust, and a Desire of Security induced him to seek his Death, what need had Shakespear to make his Heroe's Sense and Discretion appear doubtful, by shewing him feigning a Madness, destructive to his Safety, and which he himself knows to be so, and yet persists in.

Shakespear has indeed followed the History in making Hamlet feign himself mad; but that Madness being of no Consequence to the prin­cipal Design of the Play, as it is in the His­tory, or if of Consequence it hurts the Repu­tation of his Hero, 'tis certainly a Fault; for at least he only produces the same Events by a Blunder, which might have happened without it.

The Violation of poetical Justice is not the only Fault that arises from the Death of Hamlet; the revenging his Father's Murder is the sole End of all his Designs, and the great Business of the Play, and the noble and fixed Resolution of Hamlet to accomplish it, makes up the most shining Part of his Character; yet this great End is delayed till after Hamlet [Page 274] is mortally wounded: He stabs the King im­mediately upon the Information of his Trea­chery to himself! thus his Revenge becomes interested, and he seems to punish his Uncle rather for his own Death, than the Murder of the King, his Father.