Leon. And lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd.
The derivation of lozel cited from Verstegan is arbitrary, and deduced from a mere resemblance of sound. The word has been apparently corrupted from the Saxon lorel, used by Chaucer for a worthless fellow. See Mr. Tyrwhitt's glossary. The corruption may have originated in the similitude of the letters r and z in ancient manuscripts.
ACT III.
Scene 2. Page 82.
Her. ... since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd to appear thus.
Dr. Johnson, not understanding these lines, "with the licence of all editors," pronounces them unintelligible. However strange the language may appear in the mouth of a lady, there is hardly a doubt that it is a metaphor taken from tilting. Hermione means to say, I appeal to your own conscience whether since Polixenes came, I have made any violent or irregular encounter unlike that of a fair courser; or, in plainer terms, whether I have deviated from the paths of honour and forcibly obtruded myself on this tribunal. Those who made an encounter at justs were called runners; and were said, occasionally, to run foul. This may serve to explain what is meant by uncurrent.
ACT IV.
Scene 2. Page 107.
Aut. When daffodils begin to peer, &c.
Mr. Steevens, to give himself an opportunity of introducing a neat retort on an attack which his favourite author had sustained, has quoted a remark by Dr. Burney that Autolycus "is the true ancient minstrel, as described in the old fabliaux." With great deference to this learned and elegant writer, the observation is inaccurate. Autolycus has nothing in common with the character of a minstrel but the singing of a song or two. He is a mere rogue, assuming various shapes, and is specifically called so in the dramatis personæ; but it will not surely be contended that all rogues were minstrels, because a cruel and illiberal statute has made all minstrels rogues. It is true that Autolycus declares he had been an ape-bearer; but this was no part of the minstrel profession in Shakspeare's time, though it had been so formerly. As this circumstance however has not been noticed, or at least very slightly, by any of the writers on the subject of the ancient minstrels, it may be worth while to exhibit the following curious story from the second book of The dialogues of Saint Gregory, who lived in the sixth century. At the celebration of the feast of Saint Proculus the martyr, a nobleman named Fortunatus having prevailed on Bishop Boniface to eat with him after celebrating the service of the day, it happened that before the holy prelate had pronounced the usual benediction at table, a minstrel leading an ape and playing on a cymbal arrived. This very much discomposed the good bishop, who exclaimed, Alas! alas! the wretched man is dead; behold, I have not yet opened my lips to praise God, and he is here with his ape and playing on his instrument. He then desired the servants to carry some victuals to the unhappy man, which when he had eaten, a stone fell from the house top and killed him.