2 Cit. Ill news by'r lady; seldom comes the better.

Well might the author of the book quoted by Mr. Reed say "that proverb indeed is auncient," as will appear from the following curious account of its origin extracted from a manuscript collection of stories compiled about the time of king Henry the Third:—

"Quidam abbas dedit monachis suis tria fercula. Dixerunt monachi, Iste parum dat nobis. Rogemus Deum ut cito moriatur. Et sive ex hac causa, sive ex alia, mortuus est. Substitutus est alius, qui eis tamen dedit duo fercula. Irati monachi contristati dixerunt, Nunc magis est orandum, quia unum ferculum subtractum est, Deus subtrahat ei vitam suam. Tandem mortuus est. Substitutus est tertius, qui duo fercula subtraxit. Irati monachi dixerunt, Iste pessimus est inter omnes, quia fame nos interficit; rogemus Deum quod cito moriatur. Dixit unus monachus, Rogo Deum quod det ei vitam longam, et manu teneat eum nobis. Alii admirati querebant quare hoc diceret; qui ait, Vide quod primus fuit malus, secundus pejor, iste pessimus; timeo quod cum mortuus fuerit alius pejor succedet, qui penitus nos fame perimet. Unde solet dici, Seilde comed se betere."

Scene 4. Page 546.

Q. Eliz. A parlous boy.

"Parlous," says Mr. Steevens, "is keen, shrewd." Mr. Ritson is of a different opinion, and thinks it a corruption of perilous, dangerous. Both parties are right; but it is probably used here as perilous, in like manner as the nurse in Romeo and Juliet talks of "a parlous knock," and as it is also to be taken in A midsummer night's dream, where Mr. Steevens had properly explained it; and the instance which he has given on the present occasion does, in fact, corroborate his former note. Parlous is likewise made synonymous with shrewd by Littelton. See his Latin dict. v. importunus. In Middleton's play of The changeling, we have "a parlous fool," i. e. shrewd, "he must sit in the fourth form at least." Yet a few pages further the same word is as clearly used for perilous. After all there is little or no difference in the senses of it, for in shrewdness there is certainly peril. He that meets with a shrew, may well be said to be in danger. Some might think that this word is the same as talkative, in which case it must have been borrowed from the French; but that language does not furnish an adjective of the kind. The original corruption was perlious. Thus in an unpublished work by William of Nassyngton, a poet of the fifteenth century, who wrote on the Lord's prayer, &c., we have, "Methinks this maner is perlious."

ACT III.

Scene 1. Page 561.

York. Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.

Mr. M. Mason contends that this is simply an allusion to Richard's deformity, and is not inclined to admit the propriety of Dr. Johnson's supposition that York means to call his uncle a bear. From a quotation given by the former gentleman, it is clear that Shakspeare, when alluding to Richard's deformity, mentions his back; and it is therefore probable that he would have used the same term in the present instance, had he adverted to the duke's shape. For this reason Dr. Johnson's opinion seems preferable; yet something more might have been intended. The practice of keeping apes or domestic monkeys was formerly much more common than at present. Many old prints and paintings corroborate this observation,[17] and in some the monkey appears chained to a large globe or roller of wood, which, whilst it permitted the animal to shift his situation, prevented him from making his escape. It is almost unnecessary to add that the monkey, as the intimate companion of the domestic fool, would often get upon his shoulders. There is a fine picture, by Holbein, of Henry the Eighth and some of his family, which by favour of his majesty now decorates the meeting room of the Society of Antiquaries. In it is an admirable portrait of Will Somers, the king's fool, with a monkey clinging to his neck, and apparently occupied in rendering his friend William a very essential piece of service, wherein this animal is remarkably dexterous, the fool reclining his head in a manner that indicates his sense of the obligation. York may therefore mean to call his uncle a fool, and this, after all, may be the scorn that Buckingham afterwards refers to.