Stage Directions
Stage directions are based on those of the early editions, where they vary in amplitude and in style. They have been amended where necessary in order to signal requisite action. Changes are not automatically signalled. Special brackets (⌈ ⌉) indicate that the action signalled, its placing, or the identity of the speaker, is, in the editor’s opinion, open to question.
Act and Scene Divisions
None of Shakespeare’s plays printed in his lifetime is divided into acts and scenes, and the scattered divisions in the Folio have no certain claim to authenticity. Up to about 1609, plays appear to have been given with no act breaks. For convenience of reference we follow the standard practice of dividing the plays into five acts and the acts into scenes, on the principle that a new scene begins after the stage is cleared. We have rethought the traditional divisions, resulting in a few divergences from the norm.
In plays such as The Tempest, where the practice, dating from around 1609, of observing act breaks was followed, the break is signalled by a Tudor rose (
).
For reasons explained elsewhere, Pericles, Edward III, Sir Thomas More, and The History of King Lear (based on the 1608 quarto) are divided only into scenes.
Titles
Titles have been rethought, so that for example the play printed in the Folio as The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eighth, and traditionally known as Henry VIII, is here given the title of All Is True, under which it was first acted. The Alphabetical List of Contents (pp. xi-xii) lists plays under traditional as well as rethought form.
THE LANGUAGE OF SHAKESPEARE
by DAVID CRYSTAL
ANY encounter with Shakespeare, on page or on stage, presents us with two related linguistic challenges:
• a semantic challenge: we have to work out what his language means, if we are to follow the plots, understand the descriptions of people and places, and take in what he (in the poems) or his characters (in the plays) are saying and thinking,
• a pragmatic challenge: we have to appreciate the effects that his choice of language conveys, if we are to explain the style in which he or his characters talk, see why other characters react in the way they do, and understand what is happening to our intellect and emotions as we read, watch, or listen to their exchanges.
Most of the time we respond to these challenges with unselfconscious ease, because the language of Shakespeare is the same, or only minimally different, from the language we use today. We need no explanatory linguistic notes, or specialist dictionaries or grammars, to understand the semantics of such lines as:
SIR JOHN Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
(I Henry IV, 1.2.1)
ORSINO
If music be the food of love, play on.
(Twelfth Night, 1.1.1)
HAMLET
To be, or not to be; that is the question.
(Hamlet, 3.1.58)
The thought may be demanding upon occasion; but the language is no barrier.
Nor do we need a corresponding scholarly apparatus to appreciate the pragmatic force underlying such lines as:
PRINCE HARRY [of Sir John] That villainous, abominable misleader of youth
(I Henry IV, 2.5.467)
MARINA
My name, sir, is Marina.
(Pericles, 21.131)
SHYLOCK [of a jewel] ... I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor.
(Merchant of Venice, 3.1.113)
If we refer to the context in which these lines occur, we find that they are, in turn, a jocular insult, a moment of revelation, and a nostalgic reflection; but we do not need to look up editorial notes to decide whether to laugh, cry, or sympathize as we take in what is said.
At the other extreme, there is Shakespearian language which is so far removed from our modern linguistic intuitions that without specialist help we are at a loss to know what to make of it, semantically or pragmatically. We have problems understanding what it means, or how we should react to it, or why it makes characters behave in the way they do:
SIR JOHN [to Prince Harry] What a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?
(I Henry IV, 1.2.45-6)
KENT [to Oswald . . . [you] lily-livered, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rogue.
(The Tragedy of King Lear, 2.2.15-17).
SIR TOBY [to Sir Andrew, of challenging Cesario] ... If thou ‘thou’st’ him some thrice, it shall not be amiss.
(Twelfth Night, 3.2.42-3)
The general meaning and force of these three utterances is plain: the first is a jocular expostulation; the second is a savage character assault; the third is an incitement to be insulting. But if we do not have a clear understanding of what the words mean or the impact they carry, we would be at a serious disadvantage if someone were to interrogate us on the point. Why should a buff jerkin upset Sir John? (We need to know they were worn by law officers.) How relevant an insult is finical? (The word meant ‘nit-picking’ or ‘over-fussy’ - a description, we might imagine, which a steward would find particularly irritating.) Why is thou such an asset in making a challenge? (Because courtiers would normally address each other as you, and their servants as thou; calling a fellow-courtier thou three times would be especially galling.) Difficulties of this kind have come about because of language change.