THE HUMAN BODY.
It would be difficult to enumerate the manifold forms of superstition
which have, in most countries, in the course of past centuries,
clustered round the human body. Many of these, too, may still be found
scattered, here and there, throughout our own country, one of the most
deep-rooted being palmistry, several allusions to which are made by
Shakespeare.
According to a popular belief current in years past, a trembling of the
body was supposed to be an indication of demoniacal possession. Thus, in
the "Comedy of Errors" (iv. 4) the Courtezan says of Antipholus of
Ephesus:
"Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy!"
and Pinch adds:
"I charge thee, Satan, hous'd within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight;
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven!"
In "The Tempest" (ii. 2), Caliban says to Stephano, "Thou dost me yet
but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling."
It was formerly supposed that our bodies consisted of the four
elements--fire, air, earth, and water, and that all diseases arose from
derangement in the due proportion of these elements. Thus, in Antony's
eulogium on Brutus, in "Julius Cæsar" (v. 5), this theory is alluded to:
"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!'"
In "Twelfth Night" (ii. 3) it is also noticed:
"_Sir Toby._ Do not our lives consist of the four elements?
_Sir Andrew._ 'Faith, so they say; but I think, it rather
consists of eating and drinking.
_Sir Toby._ Thou art a scholar; let us therefore eat and
drink. Marian, I say!--a stoop of wine!"
In "Antony and Cleopatra" (v. 2), Shakespeare makes the latter say:
"I am fire, and air, my other elements
I give to baser life."
This theory is the subject, too, of Sonnets xliv. and xlv., and is set
forth at large in its connection with physic in Sir Philip Sidney's
"Arcadia:"
"O elements, by whose (men say) contention,
Our bodies be in living power maintained,
Was this man's death the fruit of your dissension?
O physic's power, which (some say) hath restrained
Approach of death, alas, thou keepest meagerly,
When once one is for Atropos distrained.
Great be physicians' brags, but aide is beggarly
When rooted moisture fails, or groweth drie;
They leave off all, and say, death comes too eagerly.
They are but words therefore that men doe buy
Of any, since God Esculapius ceased."
This notion was substantially adopted by Galen, and embraced by the
physicians of the olden times.[898]
[898] See Bucknill's "Medical Knowledge of Shakespeare," p. 120.
_Blood._ In old phraseology this word was popularly used for disposition
or temperament. In "Timon of Athens" (iv. 2), Flavius says:
"Strange, unusual blood,
When man's worst sin is, he does too much good!"
In the opening passage of "Cymbeline" it occurs in the same sense:
"You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods
No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers
Still seem as does the king,"
the meaning evidently being that "our dispositions no longer obey the
influences of heaven; they are courtiers, and still seem to resemble the
disposition the king is in."
Again, in "Much Ado About Nothing" (ii. 3): "wisdom and blood combating
in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, that blood hath the
victory."
Once more, in "King Lear" (iv. 2), the Duke of Albany says to Goneril:
"Were't my fitness
To let these hands obey my blood,
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear
Thy flesh and bones."
Again, the phrase "to be in blood" was a term of the chase, meaning, to
be in good condition, to be vigorous. In "1 Henry VI." (iv. 2), Talbot
exclaims:
"If we be English deer, be, then, in blood;
Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch"
--the expression being put in opposition to "rascal," which was the term
for the deer when lean and out of condition. In "Love's Labour's Lost"
(iv. 2), Holofernes says: "The deer was, as you know, _sanguis_,--in
blood."
The notion that the blood may be thickened by emotional influences is
mentioned by Polixenes in the "Winter's Tale" (i. 2), where he speaks of
"thoughts that would thick my blood." In King John's temptation of
Hubert to murder Arthur (iii. 3), it is thus referred to:
"Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy, thick,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins."
Red blood was considered a traditionary sign of courage. Hence, in the
"Merchant of Venice" (ii. 1), the Prince of Morocco, when addressing
himself to Portia, and urging his claims for her hand, says:
"Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,[899]
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine."
[899] Mr. Singer, in a note on this passage, says, "It was
customary, in the East, for lovers to testify the violence of
their passion by cutting themselves in the sight of their
mistresses; and the fashion seems to have been adopted here as
a mark of gallantry in Shakespeare's time, when young men
frequently stabbed their arms with daggers, and, mingling the
blood with wine, drank it off to the healths of their
mistresses."--Vol. ii. p. 417.
Again, in the same play, cowards are said to "have livers as white as
milk," and an effeminate man is termed a "milk-sop." Macbeth, too (v.
3), calls one of his frighted soldiers a "lily-liver'd boy." And in
"King Lear" (ii. 2), the Earl of Kent makes use of the same phrase. In
illustration of this notion Mr. Douce[900] quotes from Bartholomew
Glantville, who says: "Reed clothes have been layed upon deed men in
remembrance of theyr hardynes and boldnes, whyle they were in theyr
bloudde."
[900] "Illustrations of Shakspeare," 1839, p. 156.
The absence of blood in the liver as the supposed property of a coward,
originated, says Dr. Bucknill,[901] in the old theory of the circulation
of the blood, which explains Sir Toby's remarks on his dupe, in "Twelfth
Night" (iii. 2): "For Andrew, if he were opened, and you find so much
blood in his liver as will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of
the anatomy."
[901] "Medical Knowledge of Shakespeare," p. 124.
We may quote here a notion referred to in "Lucrece" (1744-50), that,
ever since the sad death of Lucrece, corrupted blood has watery
particles:
"About the mourning and congealed face
Of that black blood a watery rigol goes,
Which seems to weep upon the tainted place:
And ever since, as pitying Lucrece' woes,
Corrupted blood some watery token shows;
And blood untainted still doth red abide,
Blushing at that which is so putrefied."
_Brain._ By old anatomists the brain was divided into three ventricles,
in the hindermost of which they placed the memory. That this division
was not unknown to Shakespeare is apparent from "Love's Labour's Lost"
(iv. 2), where Holofernes says: "A foolish extravagant spirit, full of
forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions,
revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of memory." Again, Lady
Macbeth (i. 7), speaking of Duncan's two chamberlains, says:
"Will I with wine and wassail so convince,
That memory, the warder of the brain,
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason
A limbeck only."
The "third ventricle is the cerebellum, by which the brain is connected
with the spinal marrow and the rest of the body; the memory is posted in
the cerebellum, like a warder or sentinel, to warn the reason against
attack. Thus, when the memory is converted by intoxication into a mere
fume,[902] then it fills the brain itself--the receipt or receptacle of
reason, which thus becomes like an alembic, or cap of a still."[903]
[902] Cf. "Tempest," v. 1:
"the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason."
[903] Clark and Wright's "Notes to Macbeth," 1877, p. 101.
A popular nickname, in former times, for the skull, was "brain-pan;" to
which Cade, in "2 Henry VI." (iv. 10) refers: "many a time, but for a
sallet, my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill." The phrase "to
beat out the brains" is used by Shakespeare metaphorically in the sense
of defeat or destroy; just as nowadays we popularly speak of knocking a
scheme on the head. In "Measure for Measure" (v. 1), the Duke,
addressing Isabella, tells her:
"O most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose."
The expression "to bear a brain," which is used by the Nurse in "Romeo
and Juliet" (i. 3),
"Nay, I do bear a brain,"
denoted "much mental capacity either of attention, ingenuity, or
remembrance."[904] Thus, in Marston's "Dutch Courtezan" (1605), we read:
"My silly husband, alas! knows nothing of it, 'tis
I that must beare a braine for all."
[904] Singer's "Shakespeare," vol. viii. p. 123.
The notion of the brain as the seat of the soul is mentioned by Prince
Henry, who, referring to King John (v. 7), says:
"his pure brain,
Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality."
_Ear._ According to a well-known superstition, much credited in days
gone by, and still extensively believed, a tingling of the right ear is
considered lucky, being supposed to denote that a friend is speaking
well of one, whereas a tingling of the left is said to imply the
opposite. This notion, however, varies in different localities, as in
some places it is the tingling of the left ear which denotes the friend,
and the tingling of the right ear the enemy. In "Much Ado About Nothing"
(iii. 1), Beatrice asks Ursula and Hero, who had been talking of her:
"What fire is in mine ears?"
the reference, no doubt, being to this popular fancy. Sir Thomas
Browne[905] ascribes the idea to the belief in guardian angels, who
touch the right or left ear according as the conversation is favorable
or not to the person.
[905] "Vulgar Errors," book v. chap. 23 (Bohn's edition, 1852,
vol. ii. p. 82).
In Shakespeare's day it was customary for young gallants to wear a long
lock of hair dangling by the ear, known as a "love-lock." Hence, in
"Much Ado About Nothing" (iii. 3), the Watch identifies one of his
delinquents: "I know him; a' wears a lock."[906]
[906] Prynne attacked the fashion in his "Unloveliness of
Love-locks."
Again, further on (v. 1), Dogberry gives another allusion to this
practice: "He wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it."
An expression of endearment current in years gone by was "to bite the
ear." In "Romeo and Juliet" (ii. 4), Mercutio says:
"I will bite thee by the ear for that jest,"
a passage which is explained in Nares ("Glossary," vol. i. p. 81) by the
following one from Ben Jonson's "Alchemist" (ii. 3):
"_Mammon._ Th' hast witch'd me, rogue; take, go.
_Face._ Your jack, and all, sir.
_Mammon._ Slave, I could bite thine ear.... Away, thou dost
not care for me!"
Gifford, in his notes on Jonson's "Works" (vol. ii. p. 184), says the
odd mode of expressing pleasure by biting the ear seems "to be taken
from the practice of animals, who, in a playful mood, bite each other's
ears."
While speaking of the ear, it may be noted that the so-called want of
ear for music has been regarded as a sign of an austere disposition.
Thus Cæsar says of Cassius ("Julius Cæsar," i. 2):
"He hears no music
Seldom he smiles."
There is, too, the well-known passage in the "Merchant of Venice" (v.
1):
"The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."
According to the Italian proverb: "Whom God loves not, that man loves
not music."[907]
[907] See Douce's "Illustrations of Shakespeare," pp. 165, 166.
_Elbow._ According to a popular belief, the itching of the elbow denoted
an approaching change of some kind or other.[908] Thus, in "1 Henry IV."
(v. 1), the king speaks of
"Fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation."
[908] Ibid. p. 273.
With this idea we may compare similar ones connected with other parts of
the body. Thus, in "Macbeth" (iv. 1), one of the witches exclaims:
"By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes."
Again, in "Troilus and Cressida" (ii. 1), Ajax says: "My fingers
itch,"[909] and an itching palm was said to be an indication that the
person would shortly receive money. Hence, it denoted a hand ready to
receive bribes. Thus, in "Julius Cæsar" (iv. 3), Brutus says to Cassius:
"Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm;
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers."
[909] See "Romeo and Juliet" (iii. 5), where Capulet says, "My
fingers itch," denoting anxiety.
So, in "Merry Wives of Windsor" (ii. 3), Shallow says: "If I see a sword
out, my finger itches to make one."
Again, in "Othello" (iv. 3), poor Desdemona says to Emilia:
"Mine eyes do itch;
Doth that bode weeping?"
Grose alludes to this superstition, and says: "When the right eye
itches, the party affected will shortly cry; if the left, they will
laugh." The itching of the eye, as an omen, is spoken of by Theocritus,
who says:
"My right eye itches now, and I will see my love."
_Eyes._ A good deal of curious folk-lore has, at one time or another,
clustered round the eye; and the well-known superstition known as the
"evil eye" has already been described in the chapter on Birth and
Baptism. Blueness above the eye was, in days gone by, considered a sign
of love, and as such is alluded to by Rosalind in "As You Like It"
(iii. 2), where she enumerates the marks of love to Orlando: "A lean
cheek, which you have not; a blue eye, and sunken, which you have not."
The term "baby in the eye" was sportively applied by our forefathers to
the miniature reflection of himself which a person may see in the pupil
of another's eye. In "Timon of Athens" (i. 2), one of the lords says:
"Joy had the like conception in our eyes,
And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up,"
an allusion probably being made to this whimsical notion. It is often
referred to by old writers, as, for instance, by Drayton, in his
"Ideas:"
"But O, see, see! we need enquire no further,
Upon your lips the scarlet drops are found,
And, in your eye, the boy that did the murder."[910]
[910] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. i. p. 44.
We may compare the expression, "to look babies in the eyes," a common
amusement of lovers in days gone by. In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Loyal
Subject" (iii. 2), Theodore asks:
"Can ye look babies, sisters,
In the young gallants' eyes, and twirl their band-strings?"
And once more, to quote from Massinger's "Renegado" (ii. 4), where
Donusa says:
"When a young lady wrings you by the hand, thus,
Or with an amorous touch presses your foot;
Looks babies in your eyes, plays with your locks," etc.
Another old term for the eyes was "crystal," which is used by Pistol to
his wife, Mrs. Quickly, in "Henry V." (ii. 3):
"Therefore, _caveto_ be thy counsellor.
Go, clear thy crystals;"
that is, dry thine eyes.
In "Romeo and Juliet" (i. 2), the phrase is employed by Benvolio:
"Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by,
Herself pois'd with herself in either eye:
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd
Your lady's love against some other maid."
It also occurs in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Double Marriage" (v. 3),
where Juliana exclaims:
"Sleep you, sweet glasses!
An everlasting slumber crown those crystals."
The expression "wall-eyed" denotes, says Dyce ("Glossary," p. 486),
"eyes with a white or pale-gray iris--glaring-eyed." It is used by Lucius
in "Titus Andronicus" (v. 1):
"Say, wall-ey'd slave, whither wouldst thou convey
This growing image of thy fiend-like face?"
In "King John" (iv. 3), Salisbury speaks of "wall-eyed wrath."
Brockett, in his "Glossary of North Country Words," says: "In those
parts of the north with which I am best acquainted, persons are said to
be _wall-eyed_ when the white of the eye is very large and to one side;
on the borders 'sic folks' are considered lucky. The term is also
occasionally applied to horses with similar eyes, though its wider
general acceptation seems to be when the iris of the eye is white, or of
a very pale color. A _wall-eyed_ horse sees perfectly well."
_Face._ A common expression "to play the hypocrite," or feign, was "to
face." So, in "1 Henry VI." (v. 3), Suffolk declares how:
"Fair Margaret knows
That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign."
Hence the name of one of the characters in Ben Jonson's "Alchemist." So,
in the "Taming of the Shrew" (ii. 1):
"Yet I have faced it with a card of ten."
The phrase, also, "to face me down," implied insisting upon anything in
opposition. So, in the "Comedy of Errors" (iii. 1), Antipholus of
Ephesus says:
"But here's a villain that would face me down
He met me on the mart."
_Feet._ Stumbling has from the earliest period been considered
ominous.[911] Thus, Cicero mentions it among the superstitions of his
day; and numerous instances of this unlucky act have been handed down
from bygone times. We are told by Ovid how Myrrha, on her way to
Cinyra's chamber, stumbled thrice, but was not deterred by the omen from
an unnatural and fatal crime; and Tibullus (lib. I., eleg. iii. 20),
refers to it:
"O! quoties ingressus iter, mihi tristia dixi,
Offensum in porta signa dedisse pedem."
[911] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. p. 249;
Jones's "Credulities Past and Present," pp. 529-531; "Notes and
Queries," 5th series, vol. viii. p. 201.
This superstition is alluded to by Shakespeare, who, in "3 Henry VI."
(iv. 7), makes Gloster say:
"For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold that danger lurks within."
In "Richard III." (iii. 4), Hastings relates:[912]
"Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
And started when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house."
[912] The following is from Holinshed, who copies Sir Thomas
More: "In riding toward the Tower the same morning in which he
(Hastings) was beheaded his horse twice or thrice stumbled with
him, almost to the falling; which thing, albeit each man wot
well daily happeneth to them to whome no such mischance is
toward; yet hath it beene of an olde rite and custome observed
as a token oftentimes notablie foregoing some great
misfortune."
In the same way, stumbling at a grave has been regarded as equally
unlucky; and in "Romeo and Juliet" (v. 3), Friar Laurence says:
"how oft to-night
Have my old feet stumbled at graves."
_Hair._ From time immemorial there has been a strong antipathy to red
hair, which originated, according to some antiquarians, in a tradition
that Judas had hair of this color. One reason, it may be, why the
dislike to it arose, was that this color was considered ugly and
unfashionable, and on this account a person with red hair would soon be
regarded with contempt. It has been conjectured, too, that the odium
took its rise from the aversion to the red-haired Danes. In "As You Like
It" (iii. 4), Rosalind, when speaking of Orlando, refers to this
notion:[913] "His very hair is of the dissembling colour," whereupon
Celia replies: "Something browner than Judas's."
[913] See Nares's "Glossary," vol. i. p. 127; Dyce's
"Glossary," pp. 61, 230.
Yellow hair, too, was in years gone by regarded with ill-favor, and
esteemed a deformity. In ancient pictures and tapestries both Cain and
Judas are represented with yellow beards, in allusion to which Simple,
in the "Merry Wives of Windsor" (i. 4), when interrogated, says of his
master: "He hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard--a
Cain-coloured beard."[914]
[914] The quartos of 1602 read "a kane-coloured beard."
In speaking of beards, it may be noted that formerly they gave rise to
various customs. Thus, in Shakespeare's day, dyeing beards was a
fashionable custom, and so Bottom, in "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" (i.
2), is perplexed as to what beard he should wear when acting before the
duke. He says: "I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard,
your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your
French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow."[915]
[915] See Jaques's Description of the Seven Ages in "As You
Like It," (ii. 6).
To mutilate a beard in any way was considered an irreparable outrage, a
practice to which Hamlet refers (ii. 2):
"Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face?"
And in "King Lear" (iii. 7), Gloster exclaims:
"By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done
To pluck me by the beard."
Stroking the beard before a person spoke was preparatory to favor. Hence
in "Troilus and Cressida" (i. 3), Ulysses, when describing how Achilles
asks Patroclus to imitate certain of their chiefs, represents him as
saying:
"'Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard,
As he, being drest to some oration.'"
Again, the phrase "to beard" meant to oppose face to face in a hostile
manner. Thus, in "1 Henry IV." (iv. 1), Douglas declares:
"No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him."
And in "1 Henry VI." (i. 3), the Bishop of Winchester says to Gloster:
"Do what thou dar'st; I'll beard thee to thy face."
It seems also to have been customary to swear by the beard, an allusion
to which is made by Touchstone in "As You Like It" (i. 2): "stroke your
chins, and swear by your beards that I am a knave."
We may also compare what Nestor says in "Troilus and Cressida" (iv. 5):
"By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow."
Our ancestors paid great attention to the shape of their beards, certain
cuts being appropriated to certain professions and ranks. In "Henry V."
(iii. 6), Gower speaks of "a beard of the general's cut." As Mr.
Staunton remarks, "Not the least odd among the fantastic fashions of our
forefathers was the custom of distinguishing certain professions and
classes by the cut of the beard; thus we hear, _inter alia_, of the
bishop's beard, the judge's beard, the soldier's beard, the citizen's
beard, and even the clown's beard." Randle Holme tells us, "The broad or
cathedral beard [is] so-called because bishops or gown-men of the church
anciently did wear such beards." By the military man, the cut adopted
was known as the stiletto or spade. The beard of the citizen was usually
worn round, as Mrs. Quickly describes it in "Merry Wives of Windsor"
(i. 4), "like a glover's paring-knife." The clown's beard was left bushy
or untrimmed. Malone quotes from an old ballad entitled "Le Prince d'
Amour," 1660:
"Next the clown doth out-rush
With the beard of the bush."
According to an old superstition, much hair on the head has been
supposed to indicate an absence of intellect, a notion referred to by
Antipholus of Syracuse, in the "Comedy of Errors" (ii. 2): "there's many
a man hath more hair than wit." In the "Two Gentlemen of Verona" (iii.
1), the same proverbial sentence is mentioned by Speed. Malone quotes
the following lines upon Suckling's "Aglaura," as an illustration of
this saying:[916]
"This great voluminous pamphlet may be said
To be like one that hath more hair than head;
More excrement than body: trees which sprout
With broadest leaves have still the smallest fruit."
[916] "Parnassus Biceps," 1656.
Steevens gives an example from "Florio:" "A tisty-tosty wag-feather,
more haire than wit."
Excessive fear has been said to cause the hair to stand on end: an
instance of which Shakespeare records in "Hamlet" (iii. 4), in that
celebrated passage where the Queen, being at a loss to understand her
son's strange appearance during his conversation with the Ghost, which
is invisible to her, says:
"And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,
Starts up, and stands on end."
A further instance occurs in "The Tempest" (i. 2), where Ariel,
describing the shipwreck, graphically relates how
"All, but mariners,
Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,
Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring--then like reeds, not hair--
Was the first man that leap'd."
Again, Macbeth says (i. 3):
"why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair?"
And further on he says (v. 5):
"The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir
As life were in't."
In "2 Henry VI." (iii. 2) it is referred to by Suffolk as a sign of
madness:
"My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract."
And, once more, in "Richard III." (i. 3), Hastings declares:
"My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses."
Another popular notion mentioned by Shakespeare is, that sudden fright
or great sorrow will cause the hair to turn white. In "1 Henry IV." (ii.
4), Falstaff, in his speech to Prince Henry, tells him: "thy father's
beard is turned white with the news."
Among the many instances recorded to establish the truth of this idea,
it is said that the hair and beard of the Duke of Brunswick whitened in
twenty-four hours upon his hearing that his father had been mortally
wounded in the battle of Auerstadt. Marie Antoinette, the unfortunate
queen of Louis XVI., found her hair suddenly changed by her troubles;
and a similar change happened to Charles I., when he attempted to escape
from Carisbrooke Castle. Mr. Timbs, in his "Doctors and Patients" (1876,
p. 201), says that "chemists have discovered that hair contains an oil,
a mucous substance, iron, oxide of manganese, phosphate and carbonate of
iron, flint, and a large proportion of sulphur. White hair contains also
phosphate of magnesia, and its oil is nearly colourless. When hair
becomes suddenly white from terror, it is probably owing to the sulphur
absorbing the oil, as in the operation of whitening woollen cloths."
Hair was formerly used metaphorically for the color, complexion, or
nature of a thing. In "1 Henry IV." (iv. 1), Worcester says:
"I would your father had been here,
The quality and hair of our attempt
Brooks no division."
In Beaumont and Fletcher's "Nice Valour" it is so used:
"A lady of my hair cannot want pitying."
_Hands._ Various superstitions have, at different times, clustered round
the hand. Thus, in palmistry, a moist one is said to denote an amorous
constitution. In "Othello" (iii. 4) we have the following allusion to
this popular notion:
"_Othello._ Give me your hand. This hand is moist, my lady.
_Desdemona._ It yet has felt no age, nor known no sorrow.
_Othello._ This argues fruitfulness, and liberal heart."
Again, in "Antony and Cleopatra" (i. 2), Iras says: "There's a palm
presages chastity;" whereupon Charmian adds: "If an oily palm be not a
fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear." And, in the
"Comedy of Errors" (iii. 2), Dromio of Syracuse speaks of barrenness as
"hard in the palm of the hand."
A dry hand, however, has been supposed to denote age and debility. In "2
Henry IV." (i. 2) the Lord Chief Justice enumerates this among the
characteristics of such a constitution.[917]
[917] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. p. 179.
In the "Merchant of Venice" (ii. 2), Launcelot, referring to the
language of palmistry, calls the hand "the table," meaning thereby the
whole collection of lines on the skin within the hand: "Well, if any man
in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book, I
shall have good fortune." He then alludes to one of the lines in the
hand, known as the "line of life:" "Go to, here's a simple line of
life."
In the "Two Noble Kinsmen" (iii. 5) palmistry is further mentioned:
"_Gaoler's Daughter._ Give me your hand.
_Gerrold._ Why?
_Gaoler's Daughter._ I can tell your fortune."
It was once supposed that little worms were bred in the fingers of idle
servants. To this notion Mercutio refers in "Romeo and Juliet" (i. 4),
where, in his description of Queen Mab, he says:
"Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid."
This notion is alluded to by John Banister, a famous surgeon in
Shakespeare's day, in his "Compendious Chyrurgerie" (1585, p. 465): "We
commonly call them worms, which many women, sitting in the sunshine, can
cunningly picke out with needles, and are most common in the handes."
A popular term formerly in use for the nails on the ten fingers was the
"ten commandments," which, says Nares,[918] "doubtless led to the
swearing by them, as by the real commandments." Thus, in "2 Henry VI."
(i. 3), the Duchess of Gloster says to the queen:
"Could I come near your beauty with my nails
I'd set my ten commandments in your face."
[918] "Glossary," vol. ii. p. 871.
In the same way the fingers were also called the "ten bones," as a
little further on in the same play, where Peter swears "by these ten
bones."
The phrase "of his hands" was equivalent to "of his inches, or of his
size, a hand being the measure of four inches." So, in the "Merry Wives
of Windsor" (i. 4), Simple says: "Ay, forsooth: but he is as tall a man
of his hands as any is between this and his head," "the expression being
used probably for the sake of a jocular equivocation in the word tall,
which meant either bold or high."[919]
[919] Ibid. vol. i. p. 402.
Again, in the "Winter's Tale" (v. 2), the Clown tells the Shepherd:
"I'll swear to the prince, thou art a tall fellow of thy hands, and that
thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands,
and that thou wilt be drunk; but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst
be a tall fellow of thy hands."
A proverbial phrase for being tall from necessity was "to blow the
nail." In "3 Henry VI." (ii. 5) the king says:
"When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night."
It occurs in the song at the end of "Love's Labour's Lost:"
"And Dick the shepherd blows his nail."
"To bite the thumb" at a person implied an insult; hence, in "Romeo and
Juliet" (i. 1), Sampson says: "I will bite my thumb at them; which is a
disgrace to them, if they bear it."
The thumb, in this action, we are told, "represented a fig, and the
whole was equivalent to a _fig_ for you."[920] Decker, in his "Dead
Term" (1608), speaking of the various groups that daily frequented St.
Paul's Church, says: "What swearing is there, what shouldering, what
justling, what jeering, what byting of thumbs, to beget quarrels?"
[920] See page 218.
_Hare-lip._ A cleft lip, so called from its supposed resemblance to the
upper lip of a hare. It was popularly believed to be the mischievous act
of an elf or malicious fairy. So, in "King Lear" (iii. 4), Edgar says of
Gloster: "This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he ... squints the
eye, and makes the hare-lip." In "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" (v. 2),
Oberon, in blessing the bridal-bed of Theseus and Hippolyta, says:
"Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
* * * * *
Shall upon their children be."
The expression "hang the lip" meant to drop the lip in sullenness or
contempt. Thus, in "Troilus and Cressida" (iii. 1), Helen explains why
her brother Troilus is not abroad by saying: "He hangs the lip at
something." We may compare, too, the words in "1 Henry IV." (ii. 4): "a
foolish hanging of thy nether lip."
_Head._ According to the old writers on physiognomy, a round head
denoted foolishness, a notion to which reference is made in "Antony and
Cleopatra" (iii. 3), in the following dialogue, where Cleopatra,
inquiring about Octavia, says to the Messenger:
"Bear'st thou her face in mind? Is't long, or round?
_Messenger._ Round, even to faultiness.
_Cleopatra._ For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so."
In Hill's "Pleasant History," etc. (1613), we read: "The head very
round, to be forgetful and foolish." Again: "The head long, to be
prudent and wary."
_Heart._ The term "broken heart," as commonly applied to death from
excessive grief, is not a vulgar error, but may arise from violent
muscular exertion or strong mental emotions. In "Macbeth" (iv. 3),
Malcolm says:
"The grief, that does not speak,
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break."
We may compare, too, Queen Margaret's words to Buckingham, in "Richard
III." (i. 3), where she prophesies how Gloster
"Shall split thy very heart with sorrow."
Mr. Timbs, in his "Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity" (1861, p.
149), has given the following note on the subject: "This affection was,
it is believed, first described by Harvey; but since his day several
cases have been observed. Morgagni has recorded a few examples: among
them, that of George II., who died suddenly of this disease in 1760;
and, what is very curious, Morgagni himself fell a victim to the same
malady. Dr. Elliotson, in his Lumleyan Lectures on Diseases of the
Heart, in 1839, stated that he had only seen one instance; but in the
'Cyclopædia of Practical Medicine' Dr. Townsend gives a table of
twenty-five cases, collected from various authors."
In olden times the heart was esteemed the seat of the understanding.
Hence, in "Coriolanus" (i. 1), the Citizen speaks of "the counsellor
heart." With the ancients, also, the heart was considered the seat of
courage, to which Shakespeare refers in "Julius Cæsar" (ii. 2):
"_Servant._ Plucking the entrails of an offering forth,
They could not find a heart within the beast.
_Cæsar._ The gods do this in shame of cowardice:
Cæsar should be a beast without a heart,
If he should stay at home to-day for fear."
_Liver._ By a popular notion, the liver was anciently supposed to be the
seat of love, a superstition to which Shakespeare frequently alludes.
Thus, in "Love's Labour's Lost" (iv. 3), Biron, after listening to
Longaville's sonnet, remarks:
"This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose, a goddess; pure, pure idolatry."
In "Much Ado About Nothing" (iv. 1), Friar Francis says:
"If ever love had interest in his liver."
Again, in "As You Like It" (iii. 2), Rosalind, professing to be able to
cure love, which, he says, is "merely a madness," says to Orlando, "will
I take upon me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart,
that there shall not be one spot of love in't." In "Twelfth Night" (ii.
4), the Duke, speaking of women's love, says:
"Their love may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate," etc.
And Fabian (ii. 5), alluding to Olivia's supposed letter to Malvolio,
says: "This wins him, liver and all."
Once more, in "Merry Wives of Windsor" (ii. 1), Pistol alludes to the
liver as being the inspirer of amorous passions, for, speaking of
Falstaff, he refers to his loving Ford's wife "with liver burning
hot."[921] Douce says, "there is some reason for thinking that this
superstition was borrowed from the Arabian physicians, or at least
adopted by them; for, in the Turkish tales, an amorous tailor is made to
address his wife by the titles of 'thou corner of my liver, and soul of
my love;' and, in another place, the King of Syria, who had sustained a
temporary privation of his mistress, is said to have had 'his liver,
which had been burnt up by the loss of her, cooled and refreshed at the
sight of her.'"[922] According to an old Latin distich:
"Cor sapit, pulmo loquitur, fel commoret iras
Splen ridere facit, cogit amare jecur."
[921] Cf. "Antony and Cleopatra" (i. 2):
"_Soothsayer._ You shall be more beloving, than belov'd.
_Charmian._ I had rather heat my liver with drinking."
[922] "Illustrations of Shakespeare," 1839, pp. 38, 39.
Bartholomæus, in his "De Proprietatibus Rerum" (lib. v. 39), informs us
that "the liver is the place of voluptuousness and lyking of the flesh."
_Moles._ These have, from time immemorial, been regarded as ominous, and
special attention has been paid by the superstitious to their position
on the body.[923] In "A Midsummer-Night's Dream" (v. 1), a mole on a
child is spoken of by Oberon as a bad omen, who, speaking of the three
couples who had lately been married, says:
"And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare-lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be."
[923] See Brand's "Pop. Antiq.," 1849, vol. iii. pp. 252-255.
Iachimo ("Cymbeline," ii. 2) represents Imogen as having
"On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I' the bottom of a cowslip."
And we may also compare the words of Cymbeline (v. 5):
"Guiderius had
Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star;
It was a mark of wonder."
_Spleen._ This was once supposed to be the cause of laughter, a notion
probably referred to by Isabella in "Measure for Measure" (ii. 2),
where, telling how the angels weep over the follies of men, she adds:
"who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal."
In "Taming of the Shrew" (Induction, sc. i.), the Lord says:
"haply my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes."
And Maria says to Sir Toby, in "Twelfth Night" (iii. 2): "If you desire
the spleen, and will laugh yourselves into stitches, follow me."
_Wits._ With our early writers, the five senses were usually called the
"five wits." So, in "Much Ado About Nothing" (i. 1), Beatrice says: "In
our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the
whole man governed with one." In Sonnet cxli., Shakespeare makes a
distinction between wits and senses:
"But my five wits, nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee."
The five wits, says Staunton, are "common wit, imagination, fantasy,
estimation, memory." Johnson says, the "wits seem to have been reckoned
five, by analogy to the five senses, or the five inlets of ideas." In
"King Lear" (iii. 4) we find the expression, "Bless thy five wits."
According to a curious fancy, eating beef was supposed to impair the
intellect, to which notion Shakespeare has several allusions. Thus, in
"Twelfth Night" (i. 3), Sir Andrew says: "Methinks sometimes I have no
more wit than a Christian, or an ordinary man has: but I am a great
eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit." In "Troilus and
Cressida" (ii. 1), Thersites says to Ajax: "The plague of Greece upon
thee, thou mongrel beef-witted lord!"