It will be perceived that, in appreciation of "captious," I side with Steevens, Malone, Knight, Collier, and even with J.S.W.; in whom, however, with his irreverent allusion to "a man who had small Latin," I can recognise no true worshipper of Shakspeare.
Why should Shakspeare be constantly twitted with this "small Latin," as if the "school-like gloss" of a hundred Porsons could add one scintilla to the glory of his name? His was the universal language of nature; and well does MR. SINGER remark that "We all know, by intuition as it were, what Shakspeare meant." It is true that we discuss his mere words in the endeavour to school our understandings to HIS level; but he, hedged by the divinity of immeasurable genius, must, himself, be sacred;—to attempt to measure his attainments by our finite estimation, is indeed sacrilege!
In retailing Ben Jonson's unluckily chosen expression, J.S.W. does not seem to be aware that it has been doubted, and ably doubted, by Mr. Knight, in his History of Opinion, that Jonson himself used it by any means in the pedagogue sense usually adopted. And it does seem scarcely credible that Jonson would give utterance to a puff so miserably threadbare, so absurd too on the very face of it; for in what possible way could an alleged deficiency of Greek and Latin in Shakspeare, affect a comparison, made by Jonson, between Shakspeare and the poets of Greece and Rome? As well might it be said that ignorance of the Greek language, in Napoleon Buonaparte, would prevent a parallel between him and Alexander the Great! What if Ben Jonson meant his fifth line to continue the supposition of the first?—"though" is a word which has a hypothetical, as well as an admissive meaning; and there is no difficulty in reading his lines in this way:
"If I thought my judgment were of yours, and though thy learning were less; still I would not seek to compare thee with modern men, but call forth thundering Eschylus," &c.
But I should like to ask J. S. W., as the nearest example from the same play, which does he really think would require the larger Latin,—to discover the trite and only meaning of "captiosus," or to use triple in the sense conferred upon it in Helena's description, to the King, of her father's legacy? We have not at present in the English language any equivalent for that word as Shakspeare used it, and of which he has left us another example in Antony and Cleopatra, where the triumvir is called "the triple pillar of the world." We have failed to take advantage of the lesson given us by our great master, and consequently our language is deprived of what would have been a most convenient acquisition.
It is true that Johnson gives a definition of "triple," in reference to its application to Antony, viz., "consisting of three conjoined;" but that meaning, however it might be applicable to the triumvirate collectively, is certainly not so to the members individually. To meet Shakspeare's use of the word, the definition must be extended to "consisting of, or belonging to, three conjoined:" a sense in which "triplex" was undoubtedly used by the Latins. Ovid would call the triumvirate "viri triplices," and of course each one must be "vir triplex;" but perhaps the clearest instance of the triune application is where he addresses the Fates (in Ibin. 76.) as spinning out "triplici pollice" (with triple thumb) the allotted task. Now as only one of the sisters held the thread, there could be but one individual thumb engaged (although with a sort of reflective ownership to all three); and there can be no question that Ovid would apply the same term to the shears of Atropos, or the distaff of Clotho.
Here, then, is a really recondite meaning, fairly traced to Shakspeare's own reading; for had he borrowed it from any one else, some trace of it would be found, and Warburton need not have stultified himself by his sapient note—"IMPROPERLY USED FOR THIRD!"
But to return to "captious," there is, after all, no such great difference whether it be one's goods, or one's wits, that are taken possession of; or whether the capture be effected by avidity or fraud; both meanings unite in our own word "caption:" and there seems no good reason why "captious" should not derive from "caption," as readily as "cautious" from "caution." It is for the antithesis I contend, as a key to the true sense intended by Shakspeare: the whole play is full of antitheses, uttered especially by Helena;—and certainly, if we recognise the allusion to the Danaïdes (as who will not?), we cannot, without depriving it of half its force and beauty, receive "captious" in the sense of "deceptious." The Danaïdes were not deceived—the essence of their punishment was utter absence of hope; Tantalus was deceived—the essence of his punishment was hope ever recurring.
With respect to the suggestion of "capacious" by W.F.S. (p. 229.), he could not have read MR. SINGER's paper with attention, or he would have perceived that he had been anticipated by Farmer, who, by elision, had obviated the metrical objection of J.S.W. (p. 430.). But the meaning of "capacious" is "capable of containing," and, as such, it would be more than antithetical, it would be contradictory, to "intenible." If capacious be consistent with leaky, then the "uxor secreti capax" must have been rather an unsafe confidante.
A. E. B.