few of them, however-a very few seem to us to be irresistibly established by their own self-evidence ; while the whole of them are invested with a certain degree of interest as the interpretations of an indefatigable, though thick-headed—of a blundering, yet early and perhaps almost contemporary, scholiast. As a matter of curiosity, and as indicative of the state of English criticism in the 17th century, the new readings are acceptable; and the thanks of the literary portion of the community are due to Mr Collier for having favoured them with this publication. But here the obligation stops. To insert the new readings into the text, and to publish them as the genuine words of Shakespeare (which we understand Mr Collier has either done or threatens to do), is a proceeding which cannot be too solemnly denounced. This is to poison our language in its very "wells of English undefiled." It is to obliterate the distinctions which characterise the various eras of our vernacular tongue; for however near to the time of Shakespeare our newly discovered scholiast may have lived, there was doubtless some interval between them-an interval during which our language was undergoing considerable changes. It is to lose hold of old modes of thought, as well as of old forms of expression;-it is to confound the different styles of our literature;-it is to vitiate with anachronisms the chronology of our speech; it is to profane the memory of Shakespeare.

When we look for evidence in favour of the authenticity of these (so-called) "Emendations," we look for it in vain. The state of the case may perhaps be understood, by attending to the following particulars. Of Shakespeare's handwriting, so far as is known, there is not now extant so much as "the scrape of a pen," with the exception of the autograph of his name. Of his plays, thirteen were published in an authentic form during his life, and four in spurious or "pirated" editions. These are called the quartos. After his death, one of his plays was published, by itself, for the first time"Othello." In 1623, seven years after his death, the first folio appeared. It contains the eighteen plays just re

ferred to, with the addition of eighteen, now published for the first time. This folio 1623 was printed (if we are to believe its editors, and there is no reason to doubt their word) from Shakespeare's own manuscripts, and from the quarto editions, revised and corrected to some extent, either by his own hand or under his authority. So that the folio 1623 is the highest authority that can be appealed to in the settlement of his text. It ranks even before the quartos, except in cases of obvious misprint, or other self-evident oversights. To it, in so far as external evidence is concerned, all other proofs must yield. Internal evidence may occasionally solicit the alteration of its text; but such emendations must, in every case, be merely conjectural. It is the basis of every genuine edition, and must continue so, until Shakespeare's own manuscripts be brought to light.

If

Out of these circumstances an important consideration arises. It is this, that we are not entitled, on any account, to alter the text of the folio 1623, even in cases where manifest improvements might be made, so long as the old reading makes sense. any reasonable meaning can be extracted from the received lection, we are bound to retain it, because we have every reason to believe that it is what Shakespeare wrote; and it is our object to possess his words and his meaning, not as we may suppose they ought to have been, but as they actually were. Where no sense at all can be obtained from a passage, a slight, perhaps a considerable, alteration is allowable; because any man's intelligibility is to be preferred to even Shakespeare's unintelligibility. But we are never to flatter ourselves, with any strong degree of assurance, that the correction has restored to us the exact language of the poet.

This consideration had, in former years, its due weight with Mr Collier. No one was a keener advocate than he for preserving the original text inviolate. He now views the matter in a different light. He is tolerant of new readings, even in cases where sense can be elicited from the received text. Further, he frequently gives the preference to new readings, as we hope to show, even in cases where the

old reading is far the more forcible and intelligible of the two. And on what ground does he countenance them? Setting aside at present the question of their internal evidence, we reply, that he countenances them on the ground that the folio 1623 is of doubtful authenticity. He denies that it was prepared from Shakespeare's own papers. This is the foundation of his case. He maintains that the copy which the printer used had been (probably) dictated by some underling of the theatre, to some scribe whose ear (probably) often deceived him in taking up the right word, and who consequently put down a wrong one, which was subsequently set up in type by the printer. He is further of opinion that a text of Shakespeare, purer than any that ever got into print, was preserved orally in the theatre, and that the corrector of his folio, who was decidedly of a theatrical turn, and perhaps himself a manager, picked up his new readings from the mouths of the players themselves. But he has entirely failed to prove these improbable assertions. theory in regard to the printing of the folio 1623 is contradicted by the distinct announcement of its editors, who say of their great master that "his mind and hand went together, and what he thought he uttered with that easiness that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers." This declaration, that the materials from which they worked were derived directly from Shakespeare himself, seems to establish conclusively the authenticity of the folio 1623; and that point being made good, all external evidence in favour of the new readings must of necessity fail.

His

But perhaps these new readings are supported by their internal evidence -perhaps they bring along with them such an amount of force and propriety as carries conviction on the very face of it, and entitles them to a decided preference in comparison with the old? Mr Collier would fain think so. On their evident superiority, both in sense and in style, he rests the main strength of his case. Speaking of his volume, he says, "I ought not to hesitate in avowing my conviction, that we are bound to admit by far the greater body

of the substitutions it contains, as the restored language of Shakespeare. As he was especially the poet of common life, so he was emphatically the poet of common sense; and to the verdict of common sense I am willing to submit all the more material alterations recommended on the authority before me. If they will not bear that test, I for one am willing to relinquish them."

Our principal object in the following pages is to show that "by far the greater body of the substitutions" will not stand this test; and that many of them present such a perverse depravation of the true text, that if the design of the corrector had been to damage the literary character of Shakespeare, he could not have accomplished his purpose more effectually than by representing these new readings as his. At the same time, we shall endeavour to bring forward everything in Mr Collier's volume which tells in the manuscript-corrector's favour. This will probably cause the corrector's notes and emendations to be more highly thought of than they deserve; because, while it will be no difficult matter to lay before the reader all, or nearly all, his judicious amendments, our space will not permit us to present to him one-twentieth part of his astounding aberrations. Selecting, then, as many of the more important alterations as our limits will allow, and weighing what their internal evidence is worth, we shall go over the plays seriatim, commencing with "The Tempest."

THE TEMPEST.-The new readings in this play are generally unimportant, and, in our judgment, not one of them ought to be admitted into the text. In no case would anything be gained, and in some cases a good deal would be lost, by adopting the proposed changes. In the following passage the original text is certainly unsatisfactory, but the new reading is at least equally so. Antonio, the usurping Duke of Milan, has become so habituated to the possession of his unlawful power, and has been so little checked in the exercise of it, that he at length believes himself to be the real duke. This idea is thus expressed. Prospero, the rightful duke, says of him

"Most busy, least when I do it." This is the reading of the second folio. The first folio has "lest;" but, of course, least and lest are the same word in the arbitrary spelling of that early period. We maintain that this lection makes as excellent and undeniable sense as could be desired.

"Most busy, least when I do it ;" -that is, "when I do it (or work) least, then am I most busy, most oppressed by toil." More fully stated, the obvious meaning is "this labour of mine is so preciously sweetened, so agreeably refreshed by thoughts of Miranda's kindness, that I really feel most busy, most burthened, most fatigued, when I am least occupied with my task; because, then I am not so sensible of being the object of her sympathy and approval." Shakespeare intends that Ferdinand should express the ardour of his attachment to Miranda in a strong hyperbole; accordingly, he makes him say, "I am most busy, when I am least busy;" because the spirit of Miranda does not cheer and inspire my idleness, in the way in which it cheers and inspires my labour. Theobald's line expresses, although in an imperfect manner, this same hyperbole conversely. "I am least busy, when I am most busy; because, when I am working hardest, the spirit of Miranda is present to refresh and alleviate my toils." But Shakespeare's mode of expressing the exaggeration is both stronger and finer than Theobald's, which in point of language is exceedingly lame and defective. Our only doubt, in restoring the old reading, is in regard to the word "it." Perhaps it would be as well away, and we might read more perspicuously

"Most busy,-least when I do." The measure being already redundant, the word could be spared. But its absence or presence makes little or no difference, and, with it, or without it, we hope to see this restoration of the original text, which, of course, requires no authority except its own to establish it, embodied in all future editions of our great national dramatist.

The only new reading in this play which we have some hesitation in condemning, is the following. The

witch Sycorax is spoken of (Act V. Scene 1.) as one

"That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs,

And deal in her command without her power."

This is the ordinary text. The MS. corrector proposes "with all power;" and, at first sight, this correction looks like an improvement; for how could the witch deal in the moon's command, if she had not got the moon's power? On second thoughts, however, we believe that Mr Knight, who defends the common reading, is right. By "power," we are here to understand legitimate authority; and of this Sycorax has none. By means of her spells and counternatural incantations she could make ebbs and flows, and thus wielded to some extent the lunar influences; but she had none of that rightful and natural dominion over the tides of the ocean which belongs only to the moon. Our verdict, therefore, is in favour of the old reading. We pass from "The Tempest" with the remark that the other new readings proposed by Mr Collier's emendator have here and elsewhere been conclusively set aside, in our estimation, by the observations of Mr Knight and Mr Singer; and we again protest against any adulteration of the text of this play by the introduction even of a single word which the MS. corrector has suggested.

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. -Nothing connected with Shakespeare is small, and therefore we make no apology for calling the reader's attention to what some people might consider a very small matter-the difference between for and but in the following lines. Act I. Scene 1.Valentine and Proteus, "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," are saying good-bye to each other, the former being on the eve of setting out on his travels. Valentine, the traveller, says to his friend

"on some love-book pray for my success. Proteus. Upon some book I love, I'll pray

for thee.