Chapter 7

“we shall lose our time,And all be turn’d to barnacles.”

This vulgar error, no doubt, originated in mistaking the fleshy peduncle of the shell-fish for the neck of a goose, the shell for its head, and the tentacula for a tuft of feathers. These shell-fish, therefore, bearing, as seen out of the water, a resemblance to the goose’s neck, were ignorantly, and without investigation, confounded with geese themselves. In France, the barnacle-goose may be eaten on fast days, by virtue of this old belief in its fishy origin.[152]Like other fictions this one had its variations,[153]for sometime the barnacles were supposed to grow on trees, and thence to drop into the sea, and become geese, as in Drayton’s account of Furness (“Polyolb.” 1622, song 27, l. 1190). As early as the 12th century this idea[154]was promulgated by Giraldus Cambrensis in his “Topographia Hiberniæ.” Gerarde, who in the year 1597 published his “Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes,” narrates the following: “There are found in the north parts of Scotland, and the isles adjacent called Orcades, certain trees, whereon do grow certain shell-fishes, of a white color, tending to russet, wherein are contained little living creatures; which shells in time of maturity do open, and out of them grow those little living things which, falling into the water, do become fowls, whom we call barnacles, in the north of England brant geese, and in Lancashire tree geese; but the others that do fall upon the land perish, and do come to nothing. Thus much of the writings of others, and also from the mouths of people of those parts, which may very well accord with truth. But what our eyes have seen and hands have touched, we shall declare. There is a small island in Lancashire called the Pile of Foulders, wherein are found the broken pieces of old ships, some whereof have been cast thither by shipwreck, and also the trunks or bodies, with the branches, of old rotten trees, cast up there likewise,whereon is found a certain spume or froth, that in time breedeth into certain shells, in shape like those of the mussel, but sharper pointed, and of a whitish color: wherein is contained a thing in form like a lace of silk, one end whereof is fastened unto the inside of the shell, even as the fish of oysters and mussels are. The other end is made fast unto the belly of a rude mass or lump, which in time cometh to the shape and form of a bird; when it is perfectly formed the shell gapeth open, and the first thing that appeareth is the foresaid lace or string; next come the legs of the bird hanging out, and as it groweth greater it openeth the shell by degrees, till at length it is all come forth and hangeth only by the bill. In short space after it cometh to full maturity, and falleth into the sea, where it gathereth feathers and groweth to a fowl, bigger than a mallard, and lesser than a goose; having black legs and bill, or beak, and feathers black and white, spotted in such a manner as is our magpie, which the people of Lancashire call by no other name than a tree goose.” An interesting cut of these birds so growing is given by Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps from a manuscript of the 14th century, who is of opinion that the barnacle mentioned by Caliban was the tree-goose. It is not to be supposed, however, that there were none who doubted this marvellous story, or who took steps to refute it. Belon, so long ago as 1551, says Mr. Harting,[155]and others after him, treated it with ridicule, and a refutation may be found in Willughby’s “Ornithology,” which was edited by Ray in 1678.[156]This vulgar error is mentioned by many of the old writers. Thus Bishop Hall, in his “Virgidemiarum” (lib. iv. sat. 2), says:

“The Scottish barnacle, if I might choose,That of a worme doth waxe a winged goose.”

Butler, too, in his “Hudibras” (III. ii. l. 655), speaks of it;and Marston, in his “Malecontent” (1604), has the following: “Like your Scotch barnacle, now a block, instantly a worm, and presently a great goose.”

Blackbird.This favorite is called, in the “Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 1) an ousel (old French,oisel), a term still used in the neighborhood of Leeds:

“The ousel cock, so black of hue,With orange-tawny bill.”

In “2 Henry IV.” (iii. 2) when Justice Shallow inquires of Justice Silence, “And how doth my cousin?” he is answered: “Alas, a black ousel,[157]cousin Shallow,” a phrase which, no doubt, corresponded to our modern one, “a black sheep.” In Spenser’s “Epithalamium” (l. 82), the word occurs:

“The ousel shrills, the ruddock warbles soft.”

Buzzard.Mr. Staunton suggests that in the following passage of the “Taming of the Shrew” (ii. 1) a play is intended upon the words, and that in the second line “buzzard” means a beetle, from its peculiar buzzing noise:

“Pet.O slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?Kath.Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.”

“Pet.O slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

Kath.Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.”

The beetle was formerly called a buzzard; and in Staffordshire, a cockchafer is termed a hum-buz. In Northamptonshire we find a proverb, “I’m between a hawk and a buzzard,” which means, “I don’t know what to do, or how to act.”[158]

Chaffinch.Some think that this bird is alluded to in the song in the “Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 1), where the expression “finch” is used; the chaffinch having always been a favorite cage-bird with the lower classes.[159]In “Troilusand Cressida” (v. 1) Thersites calls Patroclus a “finch-egg,” which was evidently meant as a term of reproach. Others, again, consider the phrase as equivalent to coxcomb.

Chough.In using this word Shakespeare probably, in most cases, meant the jackdaw;[160]for in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 2) he says:

“russet-pated choughs, many in sort,Rising and cawing at the gun’s report;”

the term russet-pated being applicable to the jackdaw, but not to the real chough. In “1 Henry IV.” (v. 1). Prince Henry calls Falstaffchewet—“Peace, chewet, peace”—in allusion, no doubt, to the chough or jackdaw, for common birds have always had a variety of names.[161]Such an appellation would be a proper reproach to Falstaff, for his meddling and impertinent talk. Steevens and Malone, however, finding thatchewetswere little round pies made of minced meat, thought that the Prince compared Falstaff, for his unseasonable chattering, to a minced pie. Cotgrave[162]describes the Frenchchouetteas an owlet; also, a “chough,” which many consider to be the simple and satisfactory explanation ofchewet. Belon, in his “History of Birds” (Paris, 1855), speaks of thechouetteas the smallest kind of chough or crow. Again, in “1 Henry IV.” (ii. 2), in the amusing scene where Falstaff, with the Prince and Poins, meet to rob the travellers at Gadshill, Falstaff calls the victims “fat chuffs,” probably, saysMr. Harting, who connects the word with chough, from their strutting about with much noise. Nares,[163]too, in his explanation ofchuff, says, that some suppose it to be from chough, which is similarly pronounced, and means a kind of sea-bird, generally esteemed a stupid one. Various other meanings are given. Thus, Mr. Gifford[164]affirms thatchuffis always used in a bad sense, and means “a coarse, unmannered clown, at once sordid and wealthy;” and Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps explains it as spoken in contempt for a fat person.[165]In Northamptonshire,[166]we find the word chuff used to denote a person in good condition, as in Clare’s “Village Minstrel:”

“His chuff cheeks dimpling in a fondling smile.”

Shakespeare alludes to the practice of teaching choughs to talk, although from the following passages he does not appear to have esteemed their talking powers as of much value; for in “All’s Well That Ends Well” (iv. 1), he says: “Choughs’ language, gabble enough, and good enough.” And in “The Tempest” (ii. 1), he represents Antonio as saying:

“There be that can rule NaplesAs well as he that sleeps; lords that can prateAs amply and unnecessarilyAs this Gonzalo; I myself could makeA chough of as deep chat.”

Shakespeare always refers to the jackdaw as the “daw.”[167]The chough or jackdaw was one of the birds considered ominous by our forefathers, an allusion to which occurs in “Macbeth” (iii. 4):

“Augurs and understood relations have,By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forthThe secret’st man of blood.”

At the present day this bird is not without its folk-lore, and there is a Norwich rhyme to the following effect:[168]

“When three daws are seen on St. Peter’s vane together,Then we’re sure to have bad weather.”

In the north of England,[169]too, the flight of jackdaws down the chimney is held to presage death.

Cock.The beautiful notion which represents the cock as crowing all night long on Christmas Eve, and by its vigilance dispelling every kind of malignant spirit[170]and evil influence is graphically mentioned in “Hamlet” (i. 1), where Marcellus, speaking of the ghost, says:

“It faded on the crowing of the cock.Some say, that ever ’gainst that season comesWherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,The bird of dawning singeth all night long.And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad;The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,So hallow’d and so gracious is the time.”

In short, there is a complete prostration of the powers of darkness; and thus, for the time being, mankind is said to be released from the influence of all those evil forces which otherwise exert such sway. The notion that spirits fly at cock-crow is very ancient, and is mentioned by the Christian poet Prudentius, who flourished in the beginning of the fourth century. There is also a hymn, said to have been composed by St. Ambrose, and formerly used in the Salisbury Service, which so much resembles the following speech of Horatio (i. 1), that one might almost suppose Shakespeare had seen it:[171]

“The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throatAwake the god of day; and, at his warning,Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,The extravagant and erring spirit hiesTo his confine.”

This disappearance of spirits at cock-crow is further alluded to (i. 2):[172]

“the morning cock crew loud,And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,And vanished from our sight.”

Blair, too, in his “Grave,” has these graphic words:

“the taleOf horrid apparition, tall and ghastly,That walks at dead of night, or takes his standO’er some new-open’d grave, and, strange to tell,Evanishes at crowing of the cock.”

This superstition has not entirely died out in England, and a correspondent of “Notes and Queries”[173]relates an amusing legend current in Devonshire: “Mr. N. was a squire who had been so unfortunate as to sell his soul to the devil, with the condition that after his funeral the fiend should take possession of his skin. He had also persuaded a neighbor to be present on the occasion of the flaying. On the death of Mr. N. this man went, in a state of great alarm, to the parson of the parish, and asked his advice. By him he was told to fulfil his engagement, but he must be sure and carry a cock into the church with him. On the night after the funeral the man proceeded to the church, armed with the cock, and, as an additional security, took up his position in the parson’s pew. At twelve o’clock the devil arrived, opened the grave, took the corpse from the coffin, and flayed it. When the operation was concluded, he held the skin up before him and remarked, ‘Well, ’twas not worth coming for after all, for it is all full of holes!’ As he saidthis the cock crew, whereupon the fiend, turning round to the man, exclaimed, ‘If it had not been for the bird you have got there under your arm, I would have your skin too!’ But, thanks to the cock, the man got home safe again.” Various origins have been assigned to this superstition, which Hampson[174]regards as a misunderstood tradition of some Sabæan fable. The cock, he adds, which seems by its early voice to call forth the sun, was esteemed a sacred solar bird; hence it was also sacred to Mercury, one of the personifications of the sun.

A very general amusement, up to the end of the last century, was cock-fighting, a diversion of which mention is occasionally made by Shakespeare, as in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 3):

“His cocks do win the battle still of mine,When it is all to nought.”

And again Hamlet says (v. 2):

“O, I die, Horatio;The potent poison quite o’er-crows my spirit”—

meaning, the poison triumphs over him, as a cock over his beaten antagonist. Formerly, cock-fighting entered into the occupations of the old and young.[175]Schools had their cock-fights. Travellers agreed with coachmen that they were to wait a night if there was a cock-fight in any town through which they passed. When country gentlemen had sat long at table, and the conversation had turned upon the relative merits of their several birds, a cock-fight often resulted, as the birds in question were brought for the purpose into the dining-room. Cock-fighting was practised on Shrove Tuesday to a great extent, and in the time of Henry VII. seems to have been practised within the precincts of court. The earliest mention of this pastime in England is by Fitzstephens, in 1191. Happily, nowadays, cock-fighting is, by law,a misdemeanor, and punishable by penalty. One of the popular terms for a cock beaten in a fight was “a craven,” to which we find a reference in the “Taming of the Shrew” (ii. 1):

“No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.”

We may also compare the expression in “Henry V.” (iv. 7): “He is a craven and a villain else.” In the old appeal or wager of battle,[176]in our common law, we are told, on the authority of Lord Coke, that the party who confessed himself wrong, or refused to fight, was to pronounce the wordcravent, and judgment was at once given against him. Singer[177]says the term may be satisfactorily traced fromcrant,creant, the old French word for an act of submission. It is so written in the old metrical romance of “Ywaine and Gawaine” (Ritson, i. 133):

“Or yelde the til us als creant.”

And in “Richard Cœur de Lion” (Weber, ii. 208):

“On knees he fel down, and cryde, crêaunt.”

It then becamecravant,cravent, and at lengthcraven.

In the time of Shakespeare the wordcockwas used as a vulgar corruption or purposed disguise of the name of God, an instance of which occurs in “Hamlet” (iv. 5): “By cock, they are to blame.” This irreverent alteration of the sacred name is found at least a dozen times[178]in Heywood’s “Edward the Fourth,” where one passage is,

“Herald.Sweare on this booke, King Lewis, so help you God,You mean no otherwise then you have said.King Lewis.So helpe me Cock as I dissemble not.”

“Herald.Sweare on this booke, King Lewis, so help you God,You mean no otherwise then you have said.

King Lewis.So helpe me Cock as I dissemble not.”

We find, too, other allusions to the sacred name, as in “cock’s passion,” “cock’s body;” as in “Taming of the Shrew” (iv. 1): “Cock’s passion, silence!” A not uncommon oath, too,in Shakespeare’s time was “Cock and pie”—cockreferring to God, andpiebeing supposed to mean the service-book of the Romish Church; a meaning which, says Mr. Dyce, seems much more probable than Douce’s[179]supposition that this oath was connected with the making of solemn vows by knights in the days of chivalry, during entertainments at which a roasted peacock was served up. It is used by Justice Shallow (“2 Henry IV.,” v. 1): “By cock and pye, sir, you shall not away to-night.” We may also compare the expression in the old play of “Soliman and Perseda” (1599): “By cock and pye and mousefoot.” Mr. Harting[180]says the “Cock and Pye” (i. e., magpie) was an ordinary ale-house sign, and may have thus become a subject for the vulgar to swear by.

The phrase, “Cock-a-hoop”[181]—which occurs in “Romeo and Juliet” (i. 5),

“You’ll make a mutiny among my guests!You will set cock-a-hoop! you’ll be the man!”

—no doubt refers to a reckless person, who takes the cock or tap out of a cask, and lays it on the top or hoop of the barrel, thus letting all the contents of the cask run out. Formerly, a quart pot was called a hoop, being formed of staves bound together with hoops like barrels. There were generally three hoops to such a pot; hence, in “2 Henry VI.” (iv. 2), one of Jack Cade’s popular reformations was to increase their number: “the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small beer.” Some, however, consider the term Cock-a-hoop[182]refers to the boastful crowing of the cock.

In “King Lear” (iii. 2) Shakespeare speaks of the “cataracts and hurricanoes” as having

“drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!”

Vanes on the tops of steeples were in days gone by made inthe form of a cock—hence weathercocks—and put up, in papal times, to remind the clergy of watchfulness.[183]Apart, too, from symbolism, the large tail of the cock was well adapted to turn with the wind.[184]

Cormorant.The proverbial voracity of this bird[185]gave rise to a man of large appetite being likened to it, a sense in which Shakespeare employs the word, as in “Coriolanus” (i. 1): “the cormorant belly;” in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (i. 1): “cormorant devouring Time;” and in “Troilus and Cressida” (ii. 2): “this cormorant war.” “Although,” says Mr. Harting,[186]“Shakespeare mentions the cormorant in several of his plays, he has nowhere alluded to the sport of using these birds, when trained, for fishing; a fact which is singular, since he often speaks of the then popular pastime of hawking, and he did not die until some years after James I. had made fishing with cormorants a fashionable amusement.”

Crow.This has from the earliest times been reckoned a bird of bad omen; and in “Julius Cæsar” (v. 1), Cassius, on the eve of battle, predicted a defeat, because, to use his own words:

“crows and kitesFly o’er our heads and downward look on us,As we were sickly prey: their shadows seemA canopy most fatal, under whichOur army lies, ready to give up the ghost.”

Allusions to the same superstition occur in “Troilus and Cressida” (i. 2); “King John” (v. 2), etc. Vergil (“Bucolic,” i. 18) mentions the croaking of the crow as a badomen:

“Sæpe sinistra cava prædixit ab ilice cornix.”

And Butler, in his “Hudibras” (part ii. canto 3), remarks:

“Is it not ominous in all countries,When crows and ravens croak upon trees.”

Even children, nowadays, regard with no friendly feelings this bird of ill-omen;[187]and in the north of England there is a rhyme to the following effect:

“Crow, crow, get out of my sight,Or else I’ll eat thy liver and lights.”

Among other allusions made by Shakespeare to the crow may be noticed the crow-keeper—a person employed to drive away crows from the fields. At present,[188]in all the midland counties, a boy set to drive away the birds is said to keep birds; hence, a stuffed figure, now called ascarecrow, was also called a crow-keeper, as in “King Lear” (iv. 6): “That fellow handles his bow like a crow-keeper.”

One of Tusser’s directions for September is:

“No sooner a-sowing, but out by-and-by,With mother or boy that alarum can cry:And let them be armed with a sling or a bow,To scare away pigeon, the rook, or the crow.”

In “Romeo and Juliet” (i. 4) a scarecrow seems meant:

“Bearing a Tartar’s painted bow of lath,Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper.”

Among further references to this practice is that in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 4), where Lord Talbot relates that, when a prisoner in France, he was publicly exhibited in the market-place:

“Here, said they, is the terror of the French,The scarecrow that affrights our children so.”[189]

And once more, in “Measure for Measure” (ii. 1):

“We must not make a scarecrow of the law,Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,And let it keep one shape, till custom make itTheir perch and not their terror.”

The phrase “to pluck a crow” is to complain good-naturedly, but reproachfully, and to threaten retaliation.[190]It occurs in “Comedy of Errors” (iii. 1): “We’ll pluck a crow together.” Sometimes the wordpullis substituted for pluck, as in Butler’s “Hudibras” (part ii. canto 2):

“If not, resolve before we goThat you and I must pull a crow.”

The crow has been regarded as the emblem of darkness, which has not escaped the notice of Shakespeare, who, in “Pericles” (iv. introd.), speaking of the white dove, says:

“With the dove of Paphos might the crowVie feathers white.”[191]

Cuckoo.Many superstitions have clustered round the cuckoo, and both in this country and abroad it is looked upon as a mysterious bird, being supposed to possess the gift of second-sight, a notion referred to in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2):

“Cuckoo, cuckoo:[192]O word of fear,Unpleasing to a married ear.”

And again, in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (iii. 1), Bottom sings:

“The plain-song cuckoo gray,Whose note full many a man doth mark,And dares not answer nay.”

It is still a common idea that the cuckoo, if asked, will tell any one, by the repetition of its cries, how long he hasto live. The country lasses in Sweden count the cuckoo’s call to ascertain how many years they have to remain unmarried, but they generally shut their ears and run away on hearing it a few times.[193]Among the Germans the notes of the cuckoo, when heard in spring for the first time, are considered a good omen. Cæsarius (1222) tells us of a convertite who was about to become a monk, but changed his mind on hearing the cuckoo’s call, and counting twenty-two repetitions of it. “Come,” said he, “I have certainly twenty-two years still to live, and why should I mortify myself during all that time? I will go back to the world, enjoy its delights for twenty years, and devote the remaining two to penitence.”[194]In England the peasantry salute the cuckoo with the following invocation:

“Cuckoo, cherry-tree,Good bird, tell me,How many years have I to live”—

the allusion to the cherry-tree having probably originated in the popular fancy that before the cuckoo ceases its song it must eat three good meals of cherries. Pliny mentions the belief that when the cuckoo came to maturity it devoured the bird which had reared it, a superstition several times alluded to by Shakespeare. Thus, in “King Lear” (i. 4), the Fool remarks:

“The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long,That it had its head bit off by its young.”

Again, in “1 Henry IV.” (v. 1), Worcester says:

“And being fed by us you used us soAs that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird,Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest;Grew by our feeding to so great a bulkThat even our love durst not come near your sightFor fear of swallowing.”

Once more, the opinion that the cuckoo made no nest ofits own, but laid its eggs in that of another bird, is mentioned in “Antony and Cleopatra” (ii. 6):

“Thou dost o’er-count me of my father’s house;But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,Remain in’t as thou may’st.”

It has been remarked,[195]however, in reference to the common idea that the young cuckoo ill-treats its foster-mother, that if we watch the movements of the two birds, when the younger is being fed, we cannot much wonder at this piece of folk-lore. When the cuckoo opens its great mouth, the diminutive nurse places her own head so far within its precincts that it has the exact appearance of a voluntary surrender to decapitation.

The notion[196]“which couples the name of the cuckoo with the character of the man whose wife is unfaithful to him appears to have been derived from the Romans, and is first found in the Middle Ages in France, and in the countries of which the modern language is derived from the Latin. But the ancients more correctly gave the name of the bird, not to the husband of the faithless wife, but to her paramour, who might justly be supposed to be acting the part of the cuckoo. They applied the name of the bird in whose nest the cuckoo’s eggs were usually deposited—‘carruca’—to the husband. It is not quite clear how, in the passage from classic to mediæval, the application of the term was transferred to the husband.” In further allusion to this bird, we may quote the following from “All’s Well That Ends Well” (i. 3):

“For I the ballad will repeat,Which men full true shall find,Your marriage comes by destiny,Your cuckoo sings by kind.”

The cuckoo has generally been regarded as the harbinger of spring, and, according to a Gloucester rhyme:

“The cuckoo comes in April,Sings a song in May;Then in June another tune,And then she flies away.”

Thus, in “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 2), the king, alluding to his predecessor, says:

“So, when he had occasion to be seen,He was but as the cuckoo is in June,Heard, not regarded.”

In “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2) spring is maintained by the cuckoo, in those charming sonnets descriptive of the beauties of the country at this season.

The word cuckoo has, from the earliest times, been used as a term of reproach;[197]and Plautus[198]has introduced it on more than one occasion. In this sense we find it quoted by Shakespeare in “1 Henry IV.” (ii. 4): “O’ horseback, ye cuckoo.” The termcuckold, too, which so frequently occurs throughout Shakespeare’s plays, is generally derived from cuculus,[199]from the practice already alluded to of depositing its eggs in other birds’ nests.

Domestic Fowl.In “The Tempest” (v. 1), the word chick is used as a term of endearment: “My Ariel; chick,” etc.; and in “Macbeth” (iv. 3) Macduff speaks of his children as “all my pretty chickens.” In “Coriolanus” (v. 3), hen is applied to a woman: “poor hen, fond of no second brood;” and in “Taming of the Shrew” (ii. 1), Petruchio says: “so Kate will be my hen;” and, once more, “1 Henry IV.” (iii. 3), Falstaff says, “How now, Dame Partlet the hen?” In “Othello” (i. 3) Iago applies the term “guinea-hen” to Desdemona, a cant phrase in Shakespeare’s day for a fast woman.

Dove.Among the many beautiful allusions to this bird we may mention one in “Hamlet” (v. 1), where Shakespearespeaks of the dove only laying two eggs:[200]

“as patient as the female doveWhen that her golden couplets are disclosed.”

The young nestlings, when first disclosed, are only covered with a yellow down, and the mother rarely leaves the nest, in consequence of the tenderness of her young; hence the dove has been made an emblem of patience. In “2 Henry IV.” (iv. 1), it is spoken of as the symbol of peace:

“The dove and very blessed spirit of peace.”

Its love, too, is several times referred to, as in “Romeo and Juliet” (ii. 1), “Pronounce but—love and dove;” and in “1 Henry VI.” (ii. 2), Burgundy says:

“Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves,That could not live asunder, day or night.”

This bird has also been regarded as the emblem of fidelity, as in the following graphic passage in “Troilus and Cressida” (iii. 2):

“As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre;”

and in “Winter’s Tale” (iv. 4) we read:

“turtles pair,That never mean to part.”

Its modesty is alluded to in the “Taming of the Shrew” (ii. 1): “modest as the dove;” and its innocence in “2 Henry VI.” (iii. 1) is mentioned, where King Henry says:

“Our kinsman Gloster is as innocentFrom meaning treason to our royal personAs is the sucking lamb or harmless dove:The duke is virtuous, mild and too well givenTo dream on evil, or to work my downfall.”

The custom of giving a pair of doves or pigeons as a present or peace-offering is alluded to in “Titus Andronicus” (iv. 4),where the clown says, “God and Saint Stephen give you good den: I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here;” and when Gobbo tried to find favor with Bassanio, in “Merchant of Venice” (ii. 2), he began by saying, “I have here a dish of doves, that I would bestow upon your worship.” Shakespeare alludes in several places to the “doves of Venus,” as in “Venus and Adonis:”

“Thus weary of the world, away she [Venus] hies,And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aidTheir mistress, mounted, through the empty skiesIn her light chariot quickly is conveyed;Holding their course to Paphos, where their queenMeans to immure herself and not be seen;”

and in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (i. 1), where Hermia speaks of “the simplicity of Venus’ doves.” This will also explain, says Mr. Harting,[201]the reference to “the dove of Paphos,” in “Pericles” (iv. Introd.). The towns of Old and New Paphos are situated on the southwest extremity of the coast of Cyprus. Old Paphos is the one generally referred to by the poets, being the peculiar seat of the worship of Venus, who was fabled to have been wafted thither after her birth amid the waves. The “dove of Paphos” may therefore be considered as synonymous with the “dove of Venus.”

Mahomet, we are told, had a dove, which he used to feed with wheat out of his ear; when hungry, the dove lighted on his shoulder, and thrust its bill in to find its breakfast, Mahomet persuading the rude and simple Arabians that it was the Holy Ghost, that gave him advice.[202]Hence, in “1 Henry VI.” (i. 2), the question is asked:

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