This text is part of:
Sealing That is, finishing, concluding their agreements.
thou Arabian Bird ‘There is another sacred bird, called the phœnix, which I myself have seen only in a picture; for, as the citizens of Helios say, it visits them only periodically, every five hundred years; they state that it always comes on the death of its sire. If it at all resembles its picture, it is thus and so: some of its feathers are golden-hued, and some are red; in shape and figure it most resembles the eagle and in size also. They say, but I cannot credit it, that this bird contrives to bring from Arabia to the temple of Helios the body of its father plastered up in myrrh, and there buries it. The mode of carrying it is as follows:—first, he plasters together an egg of myrrh as large as he is able to carry, after he has tested his strength by carrying it; this trial having been made, he hollows out the egg sufficiently to place his father within, then with fresh myrrh he fills up the space unoccupied by his father's body: the egg thereby becomes of the same weight as before, and thus plastered up he transports it to Egypt to the temple of Helios. Such things, they say, this bird can accomplish.’—Herodotus, Lib. ii, cap. 73.
Hearts, . . . number Johnson: Not only the tautology of ‘bards’ and ‘poets,’ but the want of a correspondent action for the ‘poet,’ whose business in the next line is only to ‘number,’ makes me suspect some fault in this passage, which I know not how to mend.—Steevens: I suspect no fault. The ancient bard sung his compositions to the harp; the poet only commits them to paper. Verses are often called numbers, and to ‘number,’ a verb (in this sense) of Shakspeare's coining, is to make verses. This puerile arrangement of words was much studied in the age of Shakspeare, even by the first writers. So, in An Excellent Sonnet of a Nimph, by Sir P. Sidney; printed in England's Helicon, 1600: ‘Vertue, beautie, and speeche, did strike, wound, charme,
My heart, eyes, eares, with wonder, loue, delight;
First, second, last did binde, enforce, and arme
His works, showes, sutes, with wit, grace, and vowes' might.
Thus honour, liking, trust, much, farre, and deepe,
Held, pearst, possesst, my iudgment, sence, and will;
Till wrongs, contempt, deceite, did grow, steale, creepe,
Bands, fauour, faith to breake, defile, and kill;
Then griefe, vnkindnes, proofe, tooke, kindled, taught,
Well-grounded, noble, due, spite, rage, disdaine.
But ah, alas, in vaine, my minde, sight, thought,
Doth him, his face, his words leaue, shunne, refraine:
For nothing, time nor place, can loose, quench, ease
Mine owne, embracèd, sought, knot, fire, disease.’—[ed. Grosart, i, 197.]
Thinke . . . hoo Dyce: Something was dropped out from this line.— R. G. White doubts Dyce's assertion, and adds: The monosyllabic construction and interrupted flow make the line seem rather superfluous than deficient. cast This corresponds to ‘Figure,’ and consequently means to compute.
Shards Steevens: That is the wings that raise this heavy lumpish insect from the ground.—[The ‘shards’ are not the wings, but the wing-cases, the Elytra; they do not raise the insect from the ground, but merely open to allow the wings to unfold; and the ‘insects’ are rarely ‘heavy and lumpish,’—with these exceptions Steevens's definition is excellent.—Ed.] so From the days of Rowe this ‘so’ has been generally supposed to refer to Trumpets summoning the soldiers to horse. Deighton interprets it merely as ‘very good.’
my farthest Band Shall passe on thy approofe Johnson: As I will venture the greatest pledge of security, on the trial of thy conduct.—Malone: ‘Band’ and bond, in our author's time, were synonymous.
peece of Vertue This phrase bears a double meaning; ‘piece’ may mean a ‘specimen, or example, and be applied to an abstract thing’ (see Murray, N. E. D. s. v. piece, 8, b.); and it may also mean a woman (see op. cit. 9, b.) which is, I think, the better meaning here, as it is also in The Tempest, ‘Thy Mother was a peece of vertue.’—I, ii, 69.
Cyment For a list of many words wherein ‘the accent is nearer the beginning than with us,’ see Abbott, § 492.
To keepe it builded Malone: Compare Sonnet, 119: ‘And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, Grows fairer than at first,’ etc.
curious Dyce (Gloss.): That is scrupulous, over-punctilious.
The Elements be kind to thee Johnson: This is obscure. Its seems to mean, ‘May the different elements of the body, or principles of life, maintain such proportion and harmony as may keep you cheerful.’—Steevens: I believe this means only, ‘May the four elements of which this world is composed, unite their influences to make thee cheerful.’ [Or it] may, indeed, mean no more than the common compliment which the occasion of her voyage very naturally required. He wishes ‘that serene weather and prosperous winds may keep her spirits free from every apprehension that might disturb or alarm them.’—M. Mason: Octavia was about to make a long journey both by land and by water. Her brother wishes that both these elements may prove kind to her; and this is all.—Staunton: There is a passage, altogether forgotten by the commentators, in Jul. Cæs. V, v, which is entirely confirmatory of Dr Johnson's interpretation: ‘His life was gentle; and the elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a man!’—[It seems useless to contend over the meaning of ‘Elements’ in this sentence; its meaning must be determined by the context. ‘The elements’ mean, in general, earth, water, air, and fire, and of these man is supposed to be composed; ‘the due proportion and commixture whereof in his composition,’ says Nares (s. v. Elements) ‘were what produced in him every kind of perfection, mental and bodily.’ Thus Cleopatra says, ‘I am Fire, and Ayre; my other Elements [i. e. earth and water] I give to baser life.’—V, ii, 341. Sir Toby Belch asks, ‘Does not our liues consist of the foure elements?’—Twelfth Night, II, iii, 11. Or as Anthony in the present play says of the Crocodile, ‘the elements once out of it, it Transmigrates.’— II, vii, 52. The four elements may also exist external to man, and when used in the singular, ‘the element’ may mean the air or the sky, as in Twelfth Night, where Valentine says of Olivia, ‘The Element itselfe, till seuen yeares heate, Shall not behold her face.’—I, i, 31. Again, where Viola says to Olivia, ‘O you should not rest Betweene the elements of ayre, and earth,’ etc. Or ‘the element’ may mean water, as where the Queen in Hamlet says of Ophelia, when fallen in ‘the weeping brook,’ that she was ‘like a creature native and indued Unto that element.’—IV, vii, 180. It is, therefore, quite possible in the present passage that ‘the elements’ may mean either those which are external to man or those of which he is composed. If the former, then Cæsar means no more than ‘may you have a comfortable journey’; an objection to this meaning is that a comfortable journey does not of necessity create cheerful spirits; there is the well-known line ‘Cælum non animum mutant,’ etc., which suggests a sorrow ever-present, however comfortable the voyage. If by ‘the elements’ Cæsar means those of which Octavia's nature is composed, then Johnson's interpretation is just, and it would be presumptuous to attempt to better his paraphrase.—Ed.]
spirits Walker's rule for the pronunciation of spirit as a monosyllable (Crit. i, 193) will not here apply. See I, ii, 143, and II, ii, 76. 50, 51 and 57-59. Loues spring, . . . bring it on: and The Swannes downe feather . . . inclines] Mrs Griffith (p. 469): These are two passages, which for elegance of thought, or beauty of expression, it is not in the power of poetical imagery or language to exceed.
Ile tell you in your eare As far as I know, Voss is the sole commentator who overhears what Octavia whispers. He says that she begs her brother not to be too exacting when dealing with Anthony, or else to remain constant to her, should Anthony's former fascination for Cleopatra re-awaken. But see line 72.—Ed. 55-59. Her tongue will not, etc.] I think Anthony here speaks aside, while Octavia is whispering her last fond words to her brother.—Ed.
The Swannes downe feather . . . neither way inclines Capell (i, 37): This comparison of Antony's rose indeed from the words he had just spoken; but are not an illustration of them, but of a reflection that was then springing up upon the state of Octavia's heart; divided between love to her brother and love to him, and unable to give the preference to either.—Hudson: Very delicate imagery, but not perfectly clear: the plain English of it is, that Octavia's heart is equally divided between her brother and her husband, so that she cannot tell which she loves most. —Steevens refers to a similar image in 2 Henry IV: II, iii, 63: ‘As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neither way.’ And Deighton refers to Tro. and Cress. where Shakespeare again speaks of the soft plumage of the swan: ‘her hand . . . to whose soft seizure The cygnet's down is harsh.’—I, i, 58.
at the full In the Ff this ‘the’ is absorbed in the t of ‘at,’ but is still present to the ear.—Ed.
were he a Horse Steevens: A horse is said to have ‘a cloud in his face,’ when he has a black or dark-coloured spot in his forehead between his eyes. This gives him a sour look, and being supposed to indicate an ill-temper, is of course regarded as a great blemish. The same phrase occurs in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, ‘Every lover admires his mistress, though she be very deformed of her self . . . thin, lean, chitty face, have clouds in her face, be crooked,’ etc.—[p. 519, ed. 1651.]—R. G. White: An allusion to the dislike horse-fanciers have to white marks or other discolorations in the face of that animal.—Madden (p. 255): Enobarbus' grim jest would have prospered better in the ear of a Smithfield horse-courser than it has fared with some of the critics. The horse-courser could have told [Mr Grant White] that the words meant the exact opposite [to what he has said they mean]. The horse with a cloud in his face was one with no white star. Fitzherbert, in his Boke of Husbandrie, commends the white star. ‘It is an excellent good marke also for a horse to have a white star in his forehead. The horse that hath no white at all upon him is furious, dogged, full of mischiefe and misfortune.’—Cavalarice, G. Markham. . . . In the common language of the stable such a horse was said to have a cloud in his face. Equus nebula (ut vulgo dicitur） in facie, cujus vultus tristis est et melancholicus, jure vituperatur, says the learned Sadlerius in his work, De procreandis, etc., equis, 1587. From Sadler's words ut vulgo dicitur, the expression ‘cloud in the face’ seems to have been in general use. Those who had not Shakespeare's intimate knowledge of the language of the stable probably used it without any clear idea of its meaning, as Burton may have done when he wrote [the passage quoted by Steevens].
he was This is one of the examples furnished by Walker (Crit. ii, 203), illustrating his observation that ‘Thou wert, you were, I was, etc. occur frequently in places where it is clear that they must have been pronounced as one syllable, in whatever manner the contraction was effected.’ 68. The Text. Notes show a remarkable number of variæ lectiones within twenty or thirty lines, in Staunton's Photolithograph. There can be no question that this reproduction faithfully sets forth its original, which could be at once pronounced one of the very earliest, if not the earliest, copy to leave the press, were it not that Staunton had two copies to print from: the copy in Bridgewater House and that in the National Library, and we do not know to which copy this page belongs.—Ed.
confound Malone: To ‘confound’ is to destroy.
till I weepe too Theobald: I have ventur'd to alter the tense of the verb here, against the authority of all the copies. There was no sense in it, I think, as it stood before. Enobarbus would say, ‘Indeed, Antony seem'd very free of his tears that year; and, believe me, bewail'd all the mischief he did, till I myself wept too.’ This appears to me very sarcastical. Antony's tears, he would infer, were dissembled; but Enobarbus wept in real compassion of the havock and slaughter committed on his countrymen.—Capell (i, 37): Which he thought would be never: so that, taking them thus, the words are only a fresh and more positive assertion of what he had been saying before. Wept (a word adopted by two modern editors) can not be allow'd of; the sense which that would convey, being a manifest violation of character.—Steevens: I am afraid there was better sense in this passage as it originally stood, than Theobald's alteration will afford us. ‘Believe it (says Enobarbus), that Antony did so, i. e. that he wept over such an event, till you see me weeping on the same occasion, when I shall be obliged to you for putting such a construction on my tears, which, in reality (like his), will be tears of joy.’—M. Mason: I should certainly adopt Theobald's amendment, the meaning of which is, that Antony wailed the death of Brutus so bitterly, that I [Enobarbus] was affected by it, and wept also. Steevens's explanation of the present reading is so forced, that I cannot clearly comprehend it.—Dyce: Steevens and Capell vainly endeavour to defend [the Folio]. According to Capell, Theobald's correction introduces a violation of character; but Enobarbus is not altogether ‘unused to the melting mood;’ for afterwards (IV, ii, 47) we find him saying, ‘Looke, they weep; And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd,’ etc.—R. G. White: I have no hesitation in adopting Theobald's reading.—Keightley (Expositor, p. 315): Theobald is followed, from not understanding the passage, as it seems to me; what is meant is, accept this explanation till you see me weep from pure feeling, which Antony was no more capable of doing than I am.—[If Theobald's reading be correct, and Enobarbus did actually weep out of sympathy, I find it difficult to detect with what he sympathised. Certainly not with Anthony's tears; he has just said that they were due to a rheum. If Anthony's tears were genuine, his sarcastic allusion to a rheum is pointless. As a proof that tears from Enobarbus were not out of character, Dyce refers to a scene between Anthony and his followers where Enobarbus confesses he was ‘onion-ey'd.’ But there is no parallelism between that scene and the present. It was the sight of the unfeigned tears of devoted affection for Anthony which in that scene brought tears to the eyes of Enobarbus. In Anthony's ‘wailings’ over the ‘slain Brutus’ whom he had himself ‘willingly confounded,’ Enobarbus had no jot of faith, and he asks Agrippa to believe his words,—until Agrippa shall see him ‘weep too,’ which, as Capell says, will be never. ‘Weepe’ of the Folio should not be, I think, disturbed.—Ed. 72, 73. You shall heare from me still, etc.] Is it not here revealed what Octavia told in Cæsar's ear?—Ed.
William Shakespeare. Horace Howard Furness. A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra. Philadelphia and London. J. B. Lippincott Company. 1907.
NSF, NEH: Digital Libraries Initiative, Phase 2 provided support for entering this text.
