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CHAPTER THREE
THE MIDDLE COMEDIES
Much Ado About Nothing, As You Like It
and Twelfth Night
Although tragic elements may be detected in the first two of the Middle Comedies, Shakespeare seems to have learnt from The Merchant of Venice not to allow tragedy to mask the comic action. Indeed, there are moments in Much Ado About Nothing when the audience may well wonder if all will end happily, but all does end happily, without the ambiguity and uncertainty felt at the end of The Merchant of Venice. Music not only provides much humour in Much Ado About Nothing, but it also plays an important part in resolving the tragic elements of the play to give a truly comic conclusion.
Music appears in the first scene of this play when Claudio and Benedick discuss Hero. Benedick is not sure whether Claudio is serious in his praises, and asks, 'Come, in what key shall a man take you to go in the song?' (I.i.172-173). The song, of course, is Claudio's and the metaphor is apt, as wooing in song was one of the conventions of love, as has already been seen in Thurio's serenade in The Two Gentlemen of Verona and Moth's advice in Love's Labour's Lost. Another reference occurs when Benedick adamantly maintains that he will never fall in love:
... prove that ever I lose more blood with love than I will get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of blind Cupid.
(I.i.231-235) 3.1
There are two possible interpretations here. Cupid, the god of love, is traditionally blind, and Benedick feels he is as likely to be blinded (figuratively) by love as he is (literally) by a ballad-maker's pen, the choice of a ballad-maker's pen being amusingly ironic, as many of the popular ballads were about love. The syntax is slightly strained as the relationship between the condition (if you can prove I am in love) and the consequence (then you may blind me) is ambiguous. There are bawdy quibbles in the words 'pen' and 'eye', which are euphemisms for the male and female sexual organs, 3.2 and so 'pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen' could imply chasing after women. The ballad-maker, here, is seen as one preoccupied with love and the sense of the passage becomes 'prove that ever I fall in love or chase after women, and you may hang me up ...'. On the other hand, the words 'prove', 'pick' and 'hang' may be regarded as three equally important imperatives, 3.3 in which case Benedick is simply stating three things which are, in his view, as unlikely to happen as that he should fall in love.
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If this bawdy association of music and love seems somewhat strained, it should be realised that Benedick's previous speech uses a similar but more obvious quibble involving music and love, pointing the way to the second one. The earlier equivoque would not have been missed by Elizabethans, as it concerns the ever-popular cuckold's horns:
... that I will have a recheat winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all women shall pardon me.
(I.i.223-225)
The recheat was a hunting horn call, and the cuckold's horns were supposed to grow on the forehead. By an association of 'bugle' with 'horn' Partridge suggests that the bugle could be the male sexual organ, 3.4 in which case I would suggest that the baldrick, an often ornately decorated belt used to support the bugle, could then be taken to mean the codpiece. This item of attire was generally conspicuous rather than invisible, and it is mentioned by Borachio, who refers to a tapestry depicting Hercules, whose 'codpiece seems as massy as his club' (III.iii.134). Benedick is thus saying that while he refuses to be married, and hence cuckolded, he has no intention, either, of hiding his sexuality. Humphreys' reading is simpler, however: hanging a bugle in an invisible baldrick implies a furtive hiding of the cuckold's horns. 3.5 Both readings are equally possible, and were prepared for in an earlier speech by Benedick: 'In faith, hath not the world one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion?' (I.i.183-184).
Music is also used as a means of character drawing. Don John declares himself early on to be 'a plain-dealing villain' (I.iii.30), and when he says, 'I have decreed not to sing in my cage' (I.iii.31-32), this is clearly reminiscent of a passage in The Merchant of Venice: any man who has
... no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ....
(V.i.83-85)
This sets Don John apart from the other principal characters of the play, most of whom have some appreciation of music. Benedick certainly has, as shown in his witticisms on music and love just discussed. Later, in his first soliloquy, he describes the woman who may win his love and, among other virtues, she shall be 'an excellent musician' (II.iii.34). He is, however, impatient with amatory songs such as Balthasar's 'Sigh no more, ladies'. His comment on this song reveals his more masculine taste: 'Well, a horn for my money, when all's done' (II.iii.60). Benedick rejects the effeminate lute
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used in love songs, but his preference for the horn is, of course, highly comic, as the audience would have associated it with the cuckold's horns which he is so anxious to avoid. Once he has realised that he is in love with Beatrice his attitude to love songs changes, and Claudio, noticing this, mockingly comments on 'his jesting spirit, which is now crept into a lute-string, and now governed by stops' (III.ii.53-54). Later, Benedick even attempts to sing a love song himself. That his voice is inadequate for the performance is in itself funny, but the real humour lies in the fact that he had earlier condemned Claudio for undergoing a similar change: 'I have known when there was no music with him but the drum and the fife, and now had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe' (II.iii.12-15). Benedick's affinity for merriment and music is confirmed at the end of the play when it is he who insists on the music for the final dance.
The musical word play in Much Ado About Nothing is not restricted to Benedick, as Beatrice also uses her wit in this respect. She compares dancing with falling in love:
The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not wooed in good time. If the prince be too important, tell him there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero: wooing, wedding, and repenting is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding mannerly-modest as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.
(II.i.63-73)
This speech is typical of the sparkling humour found in most of the play. Puns abound: 'good time' is either time enough or the tempo of the music; 'measure' is either moderation or a dance; 'sink' is a pun on 'cinque', and 'grave' a pun on 'greve', the name given to four of the steps in the cinque-pace. 3.6 The three dances aptly suggest the three stages of loving which Beatrice describes, and the whole speech, with its association of dancing and matrimony, prepares the way for the formal dance which follows.
The dance had been anticipated in Act I.ii, where Antonio and Leonato discuss the musical preparations and the fact that during the dance Don Pedro will woo Hero on behalf of Claudio. Long suggests that music plays off-stage at this point, to indicate that the banquet is in progress, 3.7 and this would add to the air of expectation, making the masque, when it does arrive, all the more welcome. Brissenden correctly suggests that a 'pavan is the obvious choice for the dance Shakespeare had in mind': 3.8 it would allow the various couples to come to the fore in succession, so that they may each take a prominent position when their turn comes to speak. The musical
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stage directions for the scene are rather confused, reading simply 'Enter ... Maskers with a drum' (493-494) when the company enters. As it is unlikely that only a drum would be used, the direction was probably intended to remind the musicians that a drum was required, rather than that other players were not. The preparations mentioned in Act I.ii, in which Antonio's son is 'very busy about it' (I.ii.3), imply many players. The Folio directs music to be played only at line 144: 'Musicke for the dance' (561), but there should almost certainly be music earlier, starting when Don Pedro invites Hero to dance: 'Lady, will you walk a bout with your friend?' (II.i.79). The significance of the Folio direction after line 144 is that at this point the pavan ends and a second dance starts, courtly dances usually being performed in pairs. The pavan was coupled with the galliard, 3.9 another name for the cinque-pace mentioned earlier by Beatrice. This fast dance would not allow any accompanying dialogue, and so it brings the wooing scene to a lively, merry close, contrasting strongly with the sober machinations of Don John which follow.
The next appearance of music is in Act II.iii, when Balthasar sings 'Sigh no more, ladies'. Opinions on the song and its singer vary. Long finds that it has 'no dramatic function other than to reflect the light and humorous spirit of the scene in which it is placed'. 3.10 Furthermore, Long maintains that Balthasar is a 'noble dilettante-musician' - Leonato's nephew, in fact - citing as evidence for this improbable conclusion Act I.ii, 3.11 where Leonato asks Antonio about the musical preparations:
Leon.
How now, brother, where is my cousin, your son? Hath he provided this music?
Ant.
He is very busy about it.
(I.ii.1-3)
I think it far more likely that 'my cousin, your son' is a character who never appears on the stage, but, being part of the nobility, is arranging the hire of musicians, Balthasar included. To support his argument Long cites Balthasar's reluctance to sing as evidence of his nobility: 'the musical activities of the noblemen of the period were generally of an amateur and private nature.' 3.12 Noble implies that the song is badly sung, while Leggatt takes the matter even further, justifying a bad performance by Don Pedro's and Benedick's reactions to the song. 3.13 Had it been badly performed the first time, Don Pedro would hardly have requested to 'hear that song again' (II.iii.43), and his comment, 'thou sing'st well enough for a shift' (II.iii.77-78), is not meant as serious criticism. It is a humorous rebuff of Balthasar's modesty. On the other hand, Benedick's complaints are only to be expected, as he had virtually condemned the song
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before he had heard it:
Now, divine air! Now is his soul ravished! Is it not strange that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when all's done.
(II.iii.58-61)
This comment is filled with comic irony, the words 'divine air', 'soul ravished' and 'hale souls out of men's bodies' all referring to the belief that music could induce an ecstasy by drawing the soul out through the ear. 3.14 Benedick is clearly sceptical, but the humour becomes apparent when, a few moments later, thinking Beatrice is in love with him, he says, 'I will be horribly in love with her' (II.iii.226). The 'sheep's guts' are the strings of the lute, an instrument used frequently to accompany love songs, and I have already commented on Benedick's preference for the more virile horn. Surprisingly, Rossiter says that this would be funny for an audience only at a second sitting, 3.15 but the humour lies not so much in the fact that Benedick will become a candidate for the horns by marrying Beatrice, as in that by saying he prefers the horn he inadvertently negates his already established mysogynic stance. The humour continues in Benedick's criticism of the song, which is part of his usual affectation of hostility towards love.
The song itself is not humorous, and a good deal of its significance is overlooked by those who, like Long, feel that it has no dramatic function apart from promoting comedy. 3.16 As far as the characters in the play are concerned it is a love song, and Claudio's mood is reminiscent of Lorenzo's in the final act of The Merchant of Venice: Claudio says, 'How still the evening is, | As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony!' (II.iii.38-39). When the song is finally performed it is perhaps not quite what Claudio had in mind, although Don Pedro had heard it before. It is not a song about idyllic love, but about deception - the deception of women by men. It is a warning to women not to be distressed when their men are unfaithful to them, as 'the fraud of men was ever so' (II.iii.72). Partridge suggests that 'foot' is a sexual relationship, 3.17 but even without this meaning, 'One foot in sea, and one on shore' (II.iii.64) suggests inconstancy. In the face of this, women are advised to indulge in similar pursuits:
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
(II.iii.66-69)
It is surprising that Seng, having admitted that 'Hey nonny, nonny' may have
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a bawdy meaning, goes on to say that in this song these words are 'nothing but an innocent and meaningless burden'. 3.18 While they may have meant something more explicit to Elizabethans, I think the least we can attribute to them is an exhortation to free sexual activity. Similarly, the line 'Since summer first was leavy' (II.iii.73), while evocative of the beauties of summer in rural England, also suggests the sexual activities of men, particularly as it follows 'The fraud of men was ever so' (II.iii.72). Summer is a season of fecundity, and the proliferation of leaves at this time makes 'leavy' a symbol of generation. The words clothe promiscuity in beautiful garments, making licentiousness more appealing.
The irony of all this is that there are no women listening to the song. Clearly its purpose in this context must concern Claudio or Benedick, and, as the latter has not yet fallen in love, Claudio must be the one who would be expected to take note of the lyrics. They would suggest to him the possibility that Hero could be unfaithful, thus helping to justify his instant belief, so much condemned by critics, of Don John's false accusation of Hero. After all, if Claudio can be unfaithful to the memory of his supposedly dead Hero by taking another wife, never before seen by him, he ought not to find it impossible that Hero could play him false. There has been much talk of cuckoldry earlier in the play, but this song is a far more emphatic and relevant statement on the subject than any which precedes it.
Humphreys views the matter slightly differently: 'the song suggests more to the audience than the characters present' in its pointing to the impending crisis which they know about, but Claudio does not. 3.19 In either case, the song casts a slight shadow over the play, giving Benedick's final comment about the night-raven, and his hope that the bad voice bodes no mischief, added significance. Humphreys goes on to point out that the main theme of the song is deception. 3.20 It is also one of the principal themes of the play, the central crisis involving the deception of Claudio, both by Don Jon and by Leonato. Furthermore, Beatrice and Benedick are brought together by deception, and in the masque scene there are multiple minor comic deceptions as each pair of dancers comes forward. The present song, with its emphasis on deception, heralds Benedick's deception which immediately follows it.
Humphreys points to another central theme of the play contained in a pun in the title, which relies on the fact that, in Elizabethan speech the words 'nothing' and 'noting' were pronounced similarly. 3.21 The play is indeed a play about noting, and the major deceptions of the plot, cited above, all arise from eavesdropping in which the unsuspecting noters are gulled. Just before the song 'Sigh no more, ladies', Shakespeare makes his point about the pun, including a further pun on musical notes:
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D. Pedro.
Nay pray thee, come,
Or if thou wilt hold no longer argument,
Do it in notes.
Balth.
Note this before my notes;
There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.
D. Pedro.
Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks!
Note notes, forsooth, and nothing!
(II.iii.52-57)
While the puns on musical notes and crotchets are typical of the repartee which abounds in the play, the appearance of the same pun as is contained in the title marks this point in the action as significant. It comes just before the first conspicuous 'noting', with Benedick being deceived as a result. The inclusion of the musical pun prepares the way for the song and must surely point to the importance Shakespeare attached to it.
Music is used to provide humour again in Act III.iv:
Hero.
Why, how now? Do you speak in the sick tune?
Beat.
I am out of all other tune, methinks.
Marg.
Clap's into 'Light o' Love'; that goes without a burden.
Do you sing it, and I'll dance it.
Beat.
Ye light o' love with your heels! Then if your husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall lack no barns.
(III.iv.39-45)
Thus Margaret's innocent suggestion of cheering up the ailing Beatrice with a merry song and dance is twisted by the latter into a lewd joke: there is a pun in 'stables' which is revealed by a happy choice of word in Onions' definition of the adjective, stable - that is, 'Able to remain erect'. 3.22 The scene echoes an earlier one, in which Benedick finds he has the toothache and is teased by his friends for being in love. As Rossiter notes, Shakespeare 'gives both wits their off-day, as soon as love has disturbed their freedom'. 3.23 It is quite probable that both Benedick's toothache and Beatrice's cold are feigned to hide their emotional turmoil. Beatrice does not actually say she is sick. Her reply, 'I am out of all other tune, methinks', is almost as much as to say 'There is certainly nothing else wrong with me'. Margaret senses the real cause of the trouble and suggests the appropriate tune, 3.24 but Beatrice, on the defensive, counters the attack with her lewd joke, as seen above.
Once Benedick realises that he is in love with Beatrice, he actually resorts to singing a love song himself. He is passing the time while waiting for Margaret to call Beatrice to him and bursts into what must have been, judging by the number of printings, imitations and answers it inspired, a very popular ballad: 3.25
The god of love
That sits above,
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And knows me, and knows me,
How pitiful I deserve - ....
(V.ii.25-28)
The original version of this song was discovered by Osborn and Lonsdale in 1958, and is quoted by Seng:
The gods off loue yt sytts a bove
& knowe me & knowe me
howe sorroffull I do serue
Graunt my request yt at the least
she showe me she showe me
somme pytty whan I deserve. 3.26
The lines have been altered - 'perhaps a deliberate misquotation on Shakespeare's part'. 3.27 To Elizabethan audiences, who knew the song well, this alteration would have indicated either that Benedick did not know the song, in keeping with his earlier attitude to love, or that he was being frivolous. By the time he reaches the fourth line he realises that his singing will never inspire love and he abandons the attempt, quickly explaining that 'How pitiful I deserve' refers to his singing, not his loving. Apart from this humour, which relates to the actual performing of the song, there is also humour in the context. As has already been noted, Benedick would not normally have been singing such a song. The event marks the completion of his conversion: he has thrown off his outward appearance of opposition to love. The god of love does indeed know him.
The last song of the play is sung as part of Claudio's atonement for Hero's death, a condition laid down by Leonato. Long is correct in his assessment of the dramatic function of the scene as a whole: it 'has the effect of calming the tragic passions aroused in the audience by Hero's dishonour and simulated death'. 3.28 Both the epitaph and the song are extensions of the tragic mood, being expressions of the very real grief of Claudio and Don Pedro. It is only after the song that the sombre atmosphere lifts, with the dawn symbolising a new beginning:
The wolves have prey'd, and look, the gentle day,
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey.
(V.iii.25-27)
The song is thus an expression of grief which, in its very delivery, purges grief, while the whole scene is a formal, ritualistic clearing of Hero's name.
Noble finds the song comic and insincere, while Seng sees it as not only insincere but extravagant. 3.29 These surprising views are based on two facts:
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firstly, Hero is not dead, and secondly, while the play has an unquestionably Christian setting, the song is a prayer to a pagan goddess. The first fact might justify a comic approach to the scene if Claudio's expression of sorrow were not sincere - in which case his character, already none too sound, would be seriously cheapened. The song refers to itself as a song 'of woe' (V.iii.14), this being echoed in its refrain, the repeated word 'heavily'. I cannot see any indication of insincerity or humour in either the epitaph or the 'solemn hymn' (V.iii.11). Neither is the pagan nature of the dirge an indication of insincerity. Rather, it is a result of Elizabethan sensitivity; a Christian setting would have been unacceptable as Hero is not really dead, and any requiem for her may have been considered blasphemous.
Despite the purgation of grief in the scene just discussed, there is still a cloud hanging over the final scene: Claudio has yet to meet the woman he is to marry, and Beatrice has still to consent to marry Benedick. Once these difficulties are over, an atmosphere of pure joy is established at Benedick's bidding: 'Let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts and our wives' heels' (V.iii.116-118). In contrast with the earlier dance scene, the function of this dance is to reflect the harmony which has been established between man and woman.
Apart from Benedick's snatch of song, there are only two songs in Much Ado About Nothing. This contrasts strongly with As You Like It, the next comedy, in which there are six songs, three of them appearing in short scenes in which the song itself is the most important part of the scene. This has given rise to the conjecture that the songs are extraneous, inserted after the completion of the play, possibly as a result of the increasing popularity of song in drama. 3.30 An examination of the songs reveals that they all serve a definite dramatic function related to the action of the play, which is, I think, evidence that the songs were part of the original play, not later interpolations. If, on the other hand, they were added separately, it was not for any frivolous reason: Shakespeare would have realised the need for an episode or diversion, and used song to provide it.
The first of the three self-contained scenes opens with a song sung by Amiens - 'Under the greenwood tree' (II.v.1). 3.31 The greenwood tree was a conventional image of silvan or rustic life found in many popular ballads, 3.32 and the song depicts the pleasures of a simple life away from society. This had already been hinted at in Charles' description of life in the forest of Arden, where men 'fleet the time carelessly as they did in the golden world' (I.i.118-119). In Act II.i. Duke Senior and his lords are seen living as Charles had described them, and the Duke's opening speech parallels the sentiments expressed in 'Under the greenwood tree':
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Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here we feel not the penalty of Adam,
The season's differences, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ....
(II.i.3-7)
The beneficial effects of the simple life contrasted with the evils of court intrigue form the central theme of the play, and the invocation of rural and summery images in the song is certainly more than the mere scene painting suggested by Noble. 3.33 The song conveys a state of mind: rustic images such as the shade of the trees, the bird's song, the warmth of the sun and the food which the forest provides all point to a harmony and contentment so profound that even 'winter and rough weather' (II.v.8) cannot shake it. Merry music is an obvious means of expressing a happy state of mind, and when it is combined with words to form a song, the result may be more effective than either words or music alone. Amiens' song highlights the ideas contained in the Duke's earlier speech and enhances the audience's response to them.
Before Amiens sings the second stanza requested by Jaques, he orders the Duke's table to be laid, and the people who lay it also join in the singing, thus neatly disguising some stage business. 3.34 Another function of this song is character delineation. 3.35 The two principal characters in the scene are Amiens and Jaques, and when Amiens had appeared previously with the Duke and his lords, he agreed with all the Duke had said. It is not surprising, therefore, to find him later putting the Duke's thoughts into song. Although Jaques has not been seen before, he is the subject of discussion in Act II.i, where he is described as a man of 'sullen fits' (II.i.67) and twice as 'the melancholy Jaques' (II.i.26 and 41). His melancholy is that of the philosopher. His response to Amiens' happy song is to request another stanza simply to feed his melancholy: 'I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs' (II.v.11-12). For him, the song has a hollow ring. The Duke would never have chosen the life in the forest had he not been forced to do so, and Jaques expresses this opinion in the stanza he has prepared: the lords who have voluntarily accompanied the Duke into exile, 'leaving their wealth and ease' (II.v.49) are 'gross fools' (II.v.53). While it is quite possible for Jaques to sing his parody of Amiens' song, the invective will be more effective if spoken. Amiens, having asked what 'ducdame' means, 3.36 could exit singing Jaques' words as he said he would do at line 45. 3.37
Amiens is not as important a character as Jaques. His main function in the play is to sing, and he is given the character of a slightly foppish amateur who feigns reluctance to sing, deprecating his obvious ability. Each of his excuses is met with a witty rebuff from Jaques, whose enjoyment
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of the whole episode is manifest. Jaques must have heard Amiens' song previously in order to have written his parody of it, and he is biding his time, waiting for the right moment to deliver it triumphantly. That he enjoys the situation rather than the song is made clear before he next enters in Act II.vii, where the Duke says of him, 'If he, compact of jars, grow musical, | We shall have shortly discord in the spheres' (II.vii.5-6).
Amiens' second song, 'Blow, blow, thou winter wind', comes at the end of the scene in which Orlando and Adam make their way into the Duke's company. In it, the harsh conditions of winter are seen as preferable to the fickle relationships between men. Although the precise instances of ingratitude, feigned friendship and the folly of loving do not strictly apply to Orlando and Adam, the general sentiments of the song are clearly an appeal by the Duke to their feelings. Despite the fact that the Duke, before the song, says 'I will not trouble you | As yet, to question you about your fortunes' (II.vii.171-172), there must be some exchange during the singing, as the Duke knows Orlando's story by the end of the song. The lyrics must in part reflect their conversation. On first entering the forest Orlando sees it as 'uncouth' and a 'desert' (II.vi.6 and 17). The song, however, suggests that the silvan life is 'most jolly' (II.vii.183), the 'green holly' (II.vii.180) traditionally associated with Christmas being a symbol of both regeneration and happiness. When Orlando is next seen in Act III the forest has worked its spell and he is a much happier man. The dramatic function of this song is thus to re-state the main theme of the play and to present in an elegant way the ideas which bring about the changes in Orlando.
At this stage it is appropriate to comment on the predominant imagery of the two songs discussed so far. They form a strongly contrasting pair. 'Under the greenwood tree' is essentially a song of summer, making the forest seem like the conventional Arcadian setting. 'Winter and rough weather' are mentioned (II.v.8), but they do not cloud the sunny atmosphere. On the other hand, 'Blow, blow, thou winter wind' derives its imagery entirely from winter. While it is possible to set the early part of the play in winter, 3.38 it seems more likely to be in summer: the Duke feasts under the greenwood tree rather than in his cave, and when Jaques met Touchstone, the latter 'laid him down and bask'd him in the sun' (II.vii.15), both unlikely events in the winter. The winter of the songs is one which is past, and its lessons have already been learnt.
Despite their contrasting imagery, both of these songs touch on an important theme of the play related to the often-encountered appearances and reality theme, that of feigning and equivocation in life in general, and in court life in particular. 3.39 Shortly before the singing of the second song Jaques had introduced the idea of life as a series of appearances: 'All the
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world's a stage, | And all the men and women merely players' (II.vii.139-140). In his rather extreme view there is no reality in life, and this is echoed in Amiens' song, in which it is pointed out that harsh weather is not harsh at all when compared with the inconstancy of man: 'Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly' (II.vii.181). The source of this feigning is ambition, epitomised in the young soldier, 'Seeking the bubble reputation | Even in the cannon's mouth' (II.vii.152-153). The life in Arden leaves all this behind, as is made clear by the invitation in the first song, to shun ambition and leave wealth and ease.
The next song encountered in the play is the lyric sung by Touchstone in dismissal of the precise Sir Oliver Martext, who, although he will marry Touchstone 'under a bush like a beggar' (III.iii.75), finds occasion for dissension when he thinks nobody is present to give Audrey away. The singing of the popular refrain 'O sweet Oliver' and following it with a parody, 'Wind away', is in keeping with Touchstone's role as a fool. The song provides a humorous but galling repudiation of all Sir Oliver stands for and is thus also related to the theme of feigning and equivocation. If Sir Oliver were a true priest he would have had no objection (on the grounds he chose) to performing the marriage ceremony.
The second short scene in which a song is the main feature is Act IV.ii, where 'What shall he have that kill'd the deer?' is sung. The function of this episode is to link the scene in which Orlando promises to meet Rosalind with that in which, two hours later, she is waiting for him. 3.40 Although the audience would accept that two hours had passed even without the song, the diversion which the spectacle of the ancient hunting ritual provides makes the passage of time seem more credible. A less obvious function of the song is that it relates to other incidents in the play and emphasises certain characteristics of the lords who sing it. Hunting the deer for food is a normal part of life in the forest. The Duke mentions it (II.i.21-24) and this gives rise to the first description of Jaques as he moralises on the deer wounded in the hunt (II.i.25-66). There is a reference to it in 'Under the greenwood tree', which anticipates Orlando in the next scene where he sets off to hunt food for Adam. The closest parallel to the words of the present song is found in Touchstone's speech concerning cuckold's horns:
... here we have no temple but the wood, no assembly but horn beasts. ... As horns are odious, they are necessary .... Many a man has good horns and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of his wife, 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? ... The noblest deer hath them as huge as the rascal.
(III.iii.43-51)
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The words of the song refer to the horns not only as a crown of victory for the hunter, but also as the cuckold's horns:
Thy father's father wore it,
And thy father bore it.
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
(IV.ii.16-19)
Jaques' disapproval of hunting was established by the report of his distress at the sight of the wounded deer, and his comment before the song is sung, ''Tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough' (IV.ii.8-9), shows that, once again, he is enjoying the situation rather than the song. He takes delight in crowning the head of the hunter with the ambiguous horns, both a 'branch of victory' (IV.ii.5) and a symbol of the cuckold. The lords' singing of the song is an indication that they have, by their experiences in the forest, come to terms with the foibles of human existence. 3.41 They can tolerate even the cuckold's horn, as no man is free from its curse. 3.42
The last of the self-contained song scenes is Act V.iii, in which the two pages sing 'It was a lover and his lass'. One of its functions, like the hunting song before it, is to indicate the passing of time - in this case between Rosalind's promising to establish harmony between all the lovers in Act V.ii, and her actually doing it in Act V.iv, the next day. The song is appropriate to the denouement which is about to take place, as it is concerned with spring, the time of regeneration and fertility. Seng has noticed the way in which the songs reflect the 'pattern of developing moral action in the play as a whole'. 3.43 This is closely tied up with the psychological state of the singers. Amiens' first two songs reflect a withdrawal from the outside world as a result of suffering injustice there, and they also convey the hope that the forest will repair the mental damage sustained as a result of being rejected. 'What shall he have that kill'd the deer?' shows an acceptance by the singers of the fickleness of human nature: the healing influence of the forest has been at work. 'It was a lover and his lass', with its images of spring and fecundity, heralds the time when the fugitives will return to a normal productive life.
The theme of fertility is presented at two levels. It is a great tribute to Shakespeare's art that one of his loveliest lyrics should verge on the indecent but still convey the beauty of human existence. The refrain, 'With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino' (V.iii.15) was a conventional formula for expressing the indecent, 3.44 and at each appearance in the four stanzas of this song it implies a sexual relationship between the lover and his lass. 'In spring-time, the only pretty ring-time' (V.iii.17) continues the sexual
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theme. Spring is the time of year when the sexual activity of animals is at its height, and 'ring-time' brings this activity to the human level. The ring is a symbol of both union in marriage and the female sexual organ, 3.45 and when it is remembered that to 'lie' has long bee a euphemism for sexual intercourse, 3.46 the second stanza takes on a new meaning:
Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey and a ho and a hey nonino,
These pretty country-folk would lie,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring-time ....
(V.iii.20-23)
Other sexual references are found in 'flower' (V.iii.28), which is the maidenhead, 3.47 and in 'for love is crowned with the prime' (V.iii.34), in which 'prime' refers to the prime of life, but with overtones of lechery. 3.48
Apart from presaging the lords' return to productive life, these sexual innuendos are singularly appropriate to Touchstone, who called for the song after mentioning to Audrey that they would be married the next day. His main reason for wishing to marry Audrey is carnal: '... man hath his desires, and as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling' (III.iii.72-73). Perhaps it is the relevance of the song to his situation that makes Touchstone criticise it. The two boys who sing it would, no doubt, have given a polished performance, for their dialogue which precedes it indicates that they are trained singers, confident of their ability. In an attempt to deny its relevance to himself, Touchstone dismisses the song as 'foolish' (V.iii.44) and of 'no great matter' (V.iii.38-39). It should be remembered, however, that there are three other marriages in the offing, and this celebration of the 'only pretty ring-time' anticipates all of them. Its call to sexual activity is quite clear, but is ironically based on a view similar to that expressed by Jaques in his 'All the world's a stage' speech. The view taken by the song is that life is 'but a flower' (V.iii.28), which soon fades. The exhortation is thus to 'take the present time' (V.iii.32) to fall in love and lead a productive life - an attitude which contrasts strongly with Jaques' pessimistic outlook.
The denouement must come before the marriages, but the appearance of Hymen at the moment when Rosalind reveals her identity is quite unexpected. She had prepared Orlando for the event by claiming to have magical powers, but the audience realises that no magic is required, and there has been a tendency to regard Hymen not as the god himself, but as part of a pageant arranged by Rosalind. 3.49 I do not think this is what Shakespeare intended. The 'Still Musicke' (2682) called for by the stage direction at Hymen's entrance is typical of music being used to introduce the supernatural.
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The solemnity and pagan ritual of this masque-like episode obviate the necessity of presenting actual marriages on stage. The hymn, 'Wedding is great Juno's crown', blesses the couples to be married, and also serves another dramatic function, stated by Hymen:
Whiles a wedlock hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning,
That reason wonder may diminish
How thus we met, and these things finish.
(V.iv.136-139)
The final use of music in As You Like It is the dance which, with the epilogue, brings the play to a close. Although there is no dance mentioned in the stage directions, dancing at this point would he most appropriate, and one is called for by the Duke:
Play music, and you brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to th' measures fall.
(V.iv.177-178)
The dance expresses the happiness of all who participate in it and also symbolises the harmony which has been achieved among the betrothed couples. Its formality represents the first step back to formal court life after the sojourn in the forest, 3.50 and it should be noted that Jaques is 'for other than for dancing measures' (V.iv.192): he is neither returning to court nor getting married. The forest still holds a fascination for him, and he proposes to join Duke Frederick who has just arrived. He is happier, in his melancholy way, away from the court, and so his decision not to join in the celebrations does not diminish the festive atmosphere.
The songs in As You Like It are concerned not so much with humour as with the prominent themes of the play. In the last of the Middle Comedies, Twelfth Night, much of the music is directly related to the comic action, although in the opening scene it serves a more serious function. In the first speech, in which Orsino reveals his lovesick state in an extended musical metaphor, the theme of love is introduced to a background of music. Although none is called for in the stage directions, it is obviously required:
If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
(I.i.1-3) 3.51
Orsino apparently wishes that by listening to music he could be cured of his lovesickness, which he cannot be, of course, and while he soon grows tired of
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the music, he never grows tired of love. The sea, symbol of both death and regeneration, and a dominant image in the play, is introduced as the music draws to a close, being a further illustration of love's endless appetite. The juxtaposition of the images of the sea and love is not without significance, for it is in the next scene that Viola, who will ultimately cure both Orsino and Olivia of their maladies, emerges from a sea tempest unscathed and proposes to serve Orsino 'And speak to him many sorts of music' (I.ii.58). That Viola never does adopt her proposed disguise as eunuch and singer is taken by some as evidence of revision of the play, 3.52 but if the play was revised, it was a careful revision, for the idea of Viola as singer and thus introducer of harmony is an apt one worthy of retention. It is found again in the first song of the play, 'O mistress mine', and Viola herself still has some idea of singing in Orsino's service when she suggests that she will sing 'loyal cantons of contemned love' (I.v.274) to Olivia.
'O mistress mine' is the first of several songs found in Act II.iii, a scene of revelry carefully prepared for in earlier scenes. The first of these scenes is Act I.iii, in which the fatuous Sir Andrew is credited with some affinity for music as, according to Sir Toby, he 'plays o' th' viol-de-gamboys' (I.iii.25-26). He also has 'delight in masques' (I.iii.111) and claims to be a good dancer, having 'the back-trick simply as strong as any man in Illyria' (I.iii.120-121). That these claims have any foundation is doubtful. They probably represent Sir Andrew as he would like to be, and, as such, are made use of by Sir Toby in gulling him. This is distinctly ironical because the dance, as has been seen already, is a symbol of marital harmony. Sir Andrew, led on by Sir Toby, aspires to win Olivia, but has as little chance of success in his suit as he has ability in dancing. Sir Toby's question, 'Why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto?' (I.iii.125-126) is thus rhetorical: as Sir Andrew cannot dance, he will never get Olivia to church. The significance of this escapes Sir Andrew, and the humorous mention of dances, somewhat reminiscent of Beatrice's speech quoted earlier in this chapter, serves only to revive his spirits. The crude pun on the cinque-pace (I.iii.127-128) and the capering 'legs and thighs' (I.iii.138) exit finally establish the atmosphere of revelry. It is therefore no surprise that Sir Toby is drunk when he next appears briefly in Act I.v, and this leads to the midnight debauchery of Act II.iii.
Shortly after the start of this scene Feste is asked to sing a song, and 'O mistress mine' follows. It is rather more serious in tone than the atmosphere of revelry would lead one to expect, but its relevance to the play is quite clear. Although Olivia is not present to hear the song, it refers to her: Sebastian, destined to be her true love, had made his first appearance in another scene shortly before the present one. That he can 'sing both
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high and low' (II.iii.42) clearly means that he is a man of good all-round ability, but it also echoes the fact that Olivia is in love with Viola disguised as Cesario. He, being in fact a woman, would sing 'high', but at this stage he embodies for Olivia all the qualities she will later love in Sebastian, who would normally sing 'low', being a man. The question in the first line, 'where are you roaming?' (II.iii.40), and the general tenor of the song, suggest that Olivia is being advised against her decision to mourn her brother's death for seven years. The point is not that 'love is transitory', which is Auden's view, 3.53 but that life is short, youth 'will not endure' (II.iii.53), and so to wait seven years before allowing oneself to fall in love is folly. 'Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty' (II.iii.52), in view of the advice being given, has several meanings. The obvious one is that it is a request for twenty sweet kisses. However, 'twenty' may also be a sly reference to Olivia's possible age, or even an affectionate form of address. 3.54
After the singing of this song, Sir Toby proposes to 'make the welkin dance' (II.iii.58) and the revelry begins in earnest. It is a fine instance of humorous irony when the catch 'Hold thy peace' is sung so boisterously that it brings in Maria to try to restore peace. Sir Toby's spirits are roused, however, and he will not be put down. He continues raucously singing snatches of various songs, doubtlessly known by the audience and relevant in their context. 'There dwelt a man in Babylon' (II.iii.79-80) comes from the ballad 'Constant Susanna', concerning a virtuous woman and a man of great fame. 3.55 'O' the twelfth day of December' (II.iii.85) is probably a misquotation by the drunken Sir Toby of the popular carol which refers to the twelfth day of Christmas, that is, Twelfth Night. 3.56 This drunken revelry inevitably awakens Malvolio, who remonstrates with Sir Toby. Feste, still smarting from the encounter he had with Malvolio earlier, joins Sir Toby in an impromptu adaptation of a song from 'The First Book of Songes and Ayres' by Robert Jones (1600). 3.57 The text of the song is given in full by Seng and concerns a lover who has fallen into bad favour with his lady and is taking leave of her. 3.58 Its application to Malvolio is insulting to him and heightens the humour. His haughty reaction incenses the revellers, and so the main comic action of the plot is set in motion by music.
In Act II.iv music is associated with Orsino's lovesickness, as it had been at the outset of the play. He calls for an 'old and antic song' (II.iv.3) which had relieved his suffering the previous night. Instead of allowing the song to be sung immediately, Shakespeare contrives that Feste is missing and Orsino has to send for him, a delay which serves two functions. Firstly, it draws attention to Feste and his uncertain status: he is 'a fool that the Lady Olivia's father took much delight in' (II.iv.11-12), but his place in
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Olivia's household is by no means firmly established. Maria has already hinted that he may be turned away (I.v.16-17), and the fact that he wanders about, being found sometimes in Orsino's court, indicates that he feels insecure. Secondly, the delay allows Orsino to request the melody to be played while Feste is being found, which heightens the poignancy of the discussion which Orsino has with Viola. Clearly the music, sad and quiet, influences the conversation, increasing Orsino's love-lorn melancholy. Poor Viola says the music 'gives a very echo to the seat | Where love is thron'd' (II.iv.21-22). Fortunately for her, the discussion is cut short by the arrival of Feste who sings 'Come away, come away death!', a song of unrequited love.
Auden sees this song as an expression of Orsino's self-love: 'no true lover talks of being slain by a fair, cruel maid, or weeps over his own grave'. 3.59 Such things have long been included in love songs, however, as seen in 'Alysoun', a fourteenth century lyric:
Bote he me wolle hire take,
For te buen hire owen make,
Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake,
And feye fallen adoun. 3.60
Although Orsino sees himself in the role of a rejected lover, his self-pity is no more self-love than is that of the average lover. The song is not meant to be an unfavourable comment on Orsino; rather, it is there to feed his lovesickness and to enhance the already established atmosphere of melancholy in this scene. Viola's discomfiture on hearing the song arises not because she has been shown a new, unpleasant side of Orsino's character, but rather in having to endure, in anonymity, seeing the man she loves striving helplessly after another woman.
The lyrics are an extravagant expression of a rejected lover's thoughts. Garvin suggests that the song is a French chanson de toile, which makes Orsino's description of it appropriate. 3.61 Olivia, in this case, is the 'conventional, imperious, courtly mistress'. 3.62 Orsino, whose all-consuming passion is love, finds the song relevant to his own situation, describing it as 'silly sooth' which 'dallies with the innocence of love' (II.iv.46-47). While death is the prominent theme, it should not be thought that Orsino was actually contemplating death, or weeping over his own grave, as Auden would have it. The idea of death as a consequence of unrequited love is frequently encountered in literature, but, as Rosalind remarked to Orlando in As You Like It, 'men have died from time to time ... but not for love' (IV.i.101-103). Orsino's case is no worse than Orlando's, and actual death is not the issue. According to Noble, 'Orsino is an exotic in search of a sensation', 3.63 and in both this scene and the opening scene of the play he delights in his melancholy lovesickness. He requests music ostensibly to relieve his passion, but as 'Q' has noted, 'he
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is in love with being in love', 3.64 and the music only intensifies his feelings. The significant difference between the scenes is that in the first Olivia is the only subject of Orsino's passion, while in the second the music gives rise to a good deal of intimate discussion between Orsino and Viola. Clearly a bond is forming here, more deep-seated than the infatuation with Olivia.
Song is next found in Act III..iv, in which Malvolio comes before Olivia smiling, in yellow stockings, and cross-gartered. Malvolio's answers to Olivia's questions all assume that she knows why he comes in this manner and that the matter is a secret between the two of them. Three quotations of popular songs have been identified in Malvolio's speeches. 3.65 The first is 'Please one, and please all', a lyric with bawdy undertones implying that all women want sexual gratification. 3.66 Malvolio refers to it as 'the very true sonnet' (III.iv.22), indicating that he probably has no knowledge of the song's character. The second is found in 'Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs' (III.iv.26), which is probably connected with a ballad tune, 'Black and Yellow'. 3.67 The final reference is as lacking in propriety as the first: 'Ay, sweetheart, and I'll come to thee' (III.iv.31) also comes from a popular song. 3.68 The humour in these quotations (and, indeed, in much of what Malvolio says) is their inappropriateness. It is quite out of character for Malvolio to make impolite allusions or to offer to visit Olivia in bed, but he has been gulled into thinking that she is in love with him, and this has gone to his head. Maria is, in fact, not wrong when she says, 'sure the man is tainted in's wits' (III.iv.13). Inevitably, Olivia believes Malvolio is mad and the sub-plot reaches its climax when he is imprisoned in darkness and taunted by Sir Toby, Maria and Feste. To bring the scene to a close, Feste is sent in to Malvolio alone, and reveals his identity by singing lines from 'Hey Robin, jolly Robin'. 3.69 The full lyric is given by Seng and concerns a case similar to Malvolio's:
My lady is vnkynd pde
alack whi is she so
she loveth an othr better then me. 3.70
Malvolio has been rejected by Olivia, who loves Cesario instead. Malvolio's anxiety prevents him from noticing that Feste is mocking him, his one concern being to get word to Olivia, and in this he finally succeeds. Feste departs singing 'I am gone, sir', once again mocking Malvolio. 3.71 That madness was caused by the entry of evil spirits was an old belief with Biblical authority, 3.72 and in the song, Feste tacitly confirms Malvolio's madness by calling him a devil. 3.73 In case there is any doubt in Malvolio's mind, Feste ends his song with 'Adieu, goodman devil!' (IV.ii.132), a very effective exit line, if delivered as invective.
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The play ends with an epilogue song by Feste, 'When that I was and a little tiny boy'. The function of the song is undoubtedly to return the audience gently to the real world after leaving the romantic world of the play. On the stage all ends happily, with Malvolio's threat brushed aside by Orsino, and the prospect of a third marriage, two already having taken place. Wright finds the song extraneous: 'it merely serves as a comic after-piece by the clown and has no relation to the play itself'. 3.74 In a sense he is correct, but so is Noble in saying that it 'serves as a commentary on the events of the play'. 3.75 The song is not an extension of the play; rather it is its antithesis, and as such it does not echo the themes of the play - as Wright appears to require it to do if it is not to be regarded as extraneous. The song presents the real world in which the ever-present wind and rain, symbolising hardships generally, do not disappear in a happy denouement. Each of the stanzas has its own problems: indulgence in childhood, threats of violence in manhood, marital unhappiness - all leading to drunken oblivion. This over-harsh picture nicely balances the romantic sweetness of the play's ending. If the song was added in a revision of the play it was probably because without it the ending cloys. That the song should be assigned to Feste is singularly appropriate, as he alone of the play's characters is left with an uncertain future at the end. Nobody need doubt that Malvolio will be flattered into a truce, or that Sir Andrew's and Sir Toby's bloody coxcombs will mend. Feste, on the other hand, is well qualified to comment on the hardships of life - the wind and the rain are no strangers to the homeless: of his possible dismissal he says,
... and for turning away, let summer bear it out.
(I.v.20)
In writing the three Middle Comedies Shakespeare obviously drew on the experience he had gained in writing the Early Comedies. There are some similarities between the two groups in their use of music - for example the use of musical word play and the interspersing of snatches of popular songs in the dialogue to promote humour. A greater diversity of functions may be assigned to music in these comedies, however. Songs are used as commentaries on the action, sometimes anticipating what is about to happen, as is the case with 'Sigh no more, ladies' and 'O mistress mine'. They may also be used to indicate the passing of time, as 'What shall he have that kill'd the deer?' and 'It was a lover and his lass' do. Feste's epilogue song is an important development of the songs at the end of Love's Labour's Lost: rather than merely relating the main themes of the play, it returns the audience to the real world from the world of the play. Music and song are also used most
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effectively in the first of Shakespeare's masque-like theophanies, the appearance of Hymen in As You Like It.
In the Middle Comedies Shakespeare reached his zenith in the purely comic mode. The three comedies which followed are often referred to as the Dark Comedies or Problem Plays, because of, amongst other things, their tragi-comic nature and the serious issues they raise. This they share, to some extent, with two of the earlier comedies, The Merchant of Venice and Much Ado About Nothing. As shall be seen in the next chapter, the Dark Comedies called for a more restrained use of music, song and dance, in keeping with their more sombre atmosphere.
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CHAPTER THREE
3.1 The edition cited is William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, ed. A.R. Humphreys (London: Methuen, 1981). return
3.2 Partridge, pp.23 and 102. return
3.3 This was pointed out to me privately by Professor E.R. Harty. return
3.6 Naylor, pp.118 and 138. return
3.7 Long, Seven Comedies, p.l22. return
3.8 Alan Brissenden, Shakespeare and the Dance (London: Macmillan, 1981), p.49. return
3.10 Long, Seven Comedies, p.125. return
3.13 Noble, pp.65-66; Leggatt, p.173. return
3.15 A.P. Rossiter, Angel with Horns: Fifteen Lectures on Shakespeare, ed. Graham Storey (London Longman, 1970), p.70. return
3.16 Long, Seven Comedies, p.125. return
3.18 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.58. return
3.19 Humphreys, p.135 n. return
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3.22 Onions, p.1992: 'Stable ... a. ME. ... 1. Able to remain erect'. The word 'barn', of course, is an old form of 'bairn', and is used in The Winter's Tale (III.iii.69-70) and All's Well That Ends Well (I.iii.22-24). return
3.24 I have already mentioned the reference to this tune, 'Light o' love', in The Two Gentlemen of Verona (I.ii.83), where a similar punning use is made of it. The words of the song are unknown. return
3.26 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.63. return
3.27 James M. Osborne, 'Benedick's Song in Much Ado', The Times, November 17, 1958, p.11. return
3.28 Long, Seven Comedies, pp.132-133. return
3.29 Noble, p.67; Seng, Vocal Songs, p.69. return
3.30 Noble, p.72; Long, Seven Comedies, p.140; Wright, p.264. return
3.31 The edition cited is William Shakespeare, As You Like It, ed. Agnes Latham (London: Methuen, 1975). return
3.32 Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.70-72; Latham, p.42 n. return
3.34 Long, Seven Comedies, p.141. return
3.35 Noble, p.72; Long, Seven Comedies, p.141; W.H. Auden, 'Music in Shakespeare: Its Dramatic Use in His Plays', Encounter, IX, 6 (1957), 40; Frederick W. Sternfeld, Music in Shakespearean Tragedy, 2nd ed. (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1967), p.56 (hereafter cited as Sternfeld, Tragedy). return
3.36 For summaries of possible meanings of this word see Latham, pp.44-45 n. and Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.73-75. It is unimportant what the word means, as it is clear that Jaques is mocking Amiens and the other lords. His explanation, 'a Greek invocation' (II.v.56), probably indicates that the word means nothing at all. return
3.38 Leggatt, pp.210-211. return
3.39 The appearance of this theme in 'Blow, blow, thou winter wind' was pointed out to me privately by Professor E.R. Harty. return
3.40 Noble, p.74; Latham, p.xxiv; H.B. Lathrop, 'Shakespeare's Dramatic Use of Songs', Modern Language Notes, XXIII (1908), 2. return
3.41 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.86. return
3.42 I have assumed that all the lords present (except Jaques) sing the song. No direction for this is given, and much has been written about the significance of the third line, 'Then sing him home, the rest shall beare
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this burthen' (2139), which appears as a part of the song in the Folio. It may be a misplaced stage direction, but in any case it does indicate the participation of all the lords. For summaries of the various opinions on this line see Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.82-85 and Latham, pp.103-104 n. return
3.43 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.90. return
3.44 Onions, p.1355: 'Nonny-nonny ... 1533. A meaningless refrain, formerly often used to cover indelicate allusions'. return
3.46 Onions, p.1137, lists an idiomatic use of 'lie': 'Phr. To l. with ...: to have sexual intercourse with (somewhat arch.)'. return
3.48 As in Othello, 'Were they as prime as goats' (III.iii.409). return
3.49 See Latham, p.126 n., and the collation on the same page, where Capell's stage direction reads, 'Enter ... Ros. led by a Person presenting Hymen'. The Folio has 'Enter Hymen, Rosalind, and Celia. Still Musicke' (2681-2682). return
3.51 The edition cited is William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, ed. J.M. Lothian and T.W. Craik (London: Methuen, 1975). return
3.52 Lothian and Craik, pp.xxii-xxiii. return
3.53 Auden, p.41. Auden misses the point of the song entirely. He views it purely as a love song sung by a lover to his lady, and finds the references to age, the passing of youth and the uncertainty of the future distasteful. return
3.54 Lothian and Craik, p.46 n. return
3.55 Long, Seven Comedies, p.174. return
3.56 See Seng, Vocal Songs, p.103, for other suggestions regarding the source of this song. return
3.57 Lothian and Craik, p.49 n. return
3.58 Seng, Vocal Songs, pp.106-107. return
3.60 This may be freely translated as follows: 'Unless she takes me to her to be her own lover, I shall refuse to live a long life and will fall down doomed to die'. The lyric is quoted from Kenneth Sisam, ed., Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose (London: Oxford University Press, 1975), p.165. return
3.61 Katharine Garvin, 'A Speculation about Twelfth Night', Notes and Queries, CLXX (1936) 326-328. return
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3.64 William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, ed. Arthur Quiller-Couch and John Dover Wilson, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), p.xxii. return
3.65 Lothian and Craik, pp.93-94 nn. return
3.69 Ibid., p.125 n.; Long, Seven Comedies, pp.178-179. return
3.70 Seng, Vocal Songs, p.118. return
3.71 Long appears to dispute the fact that these lines should be sung (Seven Comedies, pp.179-180), but, as the lines were indented and given to Feste in the Folio (2105-2112), it seems likely that he should sing them (Seng, Vocal Songs, p.121). return
3.72 For example, Christ's casting out of spirits in Matt. 8:28-33. return
Proceed to Chapter Four