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II

In contrast to the treatment of historical place-names the guidelines used by Clark and Wright in handling significant names are more difficult to discern. Their treatment of these names may be called somewhat arbitrary even if one takes into account their general editorial policy of making the First Folio the basis of their text while regarding quarto forms and the alterations of subsequent folios, especially those of the Second, as readings with some authority. Under this policy many of the modernizations introduced into the tradition by their predecessors, notably Pope and Capell, were discarded again and replaced by readings from the quartos and folios. This process was not carried out consistently since quite a number of later modernizations were permitted to stand. The results are rather colorful. In some cases the folios eventually provide a completely modernized form which is then retained, e.g. Keepe-downe (MM Ff1-2), Keep-downe (F3), Keep down (F4), Keepdown (Cambridge). Frequently minor alterations are made silently in order to attain the modern form, but these take on an accidental character since they, too, are not consistently effected. A mute -e is often admitted or omitted, e.g. Ouer-don (MM F1), Over-don (Ff2-4) is changed to Overdone, Halfe-Canne (Ff1-2), Half(-)Canne (Ff3-4) to Half-can; Dumbe (2H4 Q), however, is retained in its Elizabethan form. Consonants are sometimes doubled, e.g. Dogbery (ADO Q, Ff) is changed to Dogberry, but Belman (SHR

Ff) is retained. A vowel may occasionally be altered without comment, as Sugersop (SHR Ff) is changed to Sugarsop, or the alteration may be justified in a textual note: Rebick (ROM Qq2-3, Ff3-4) or Rebicke (Ff1-2) is changed to Rebeck, following Rowe iii. Forms such as Ote(-) cake (ADO Q,Ff) and Sea(-)cole (ADO Q, Ff3-4), on the other hand, are retained. Since the New English Dictionary with its helpful listings of historic variants had not yet begun to appear, a certain inconsistency was perhaps inevitable at the time; in the light of modern textual advances it is certainly no longer defensible today.

Editorial policy in subsequent editions has been marked by a general, though not unanimous, effort to modernize significant names. It seems that without a single exception modern editors have adopted all those forms modernized in the Cambridge edition; even those editors who continue to record faithfully the old forms retained in the Cambridge do not return to copy-text readings when Clark and Wright have happened to modernize them: the reader will look in vain for Rebick, Teare-sheet or Bul-calfe in modern-spelling editions of the 20th century. Here, however, the common policy ends. There is not only a distinction to be made between the conservatives and the far larger group of modernizers, it is also virtually impossible to find two editors who modernize the same names. Most remarkable is the fact that none of them has dared to carry out a consistent and complete modernization of significant names that were left in their Elizabethan or 18th-century dress a hundred years ago,[10] although in all cases substantial bibliographical evidence can be brought forward in favor of modernization, not to mention attempts prior to the Cambridge Edition which can be cited as precedents for most names.

In pleading for complete modernization it is perhaps to the point to ask whether a graphic differentiation between a significant name and its corresponding common noun or adjective was intended by Shakespeare at all. The stylistic device in which the graphic appearance of a significant name is altered slightly while its phonetic identity remains untouched is particularly appropriate for modern English, and an array of modern literary characters passes in this thin disguise before the reader; in Dickens, for example, a broad procession (Airey, Buzfuz, Claypole, Dedlock) marches through the alphabet. It seems a mistake, however, to assume such an intention for Shakespeare. In the first

place the use of this device requires a fixed orthography which did not then exist; second, such a device can only be conceived with a reading public in mind since its intellectual charm depends upon the reader's ability to see through the phonetic spelling. Consequently, an anachronistic[11] and inaccurate impression is produced in the modern reader's mind when he is confronted with significant names in their accidental Elizabethan dress, and this impression can only be heightened when an editor retains the proper name in its Elizabethan form but modernizes the corresponding common noun or adjective. More critical are those cases in which a modern reader not conversant with Elizabethan spelling peculiarities is misled with regard to the significance of the name either because its significant character is no longer recognizable or, even more serious, because the allusion seems to be to a completely different word in modern English. It has to be emphasized that the modernization of these names has nothing to do with emendation; on the contrary, one might well ask if the occasional retention of Elizabethan forms in an otherwise completely modernized text does not assume the nature of "passive" or "contextual" emendation.

It may be asked further what authority the quarto and folio readings of significant names have and to what extent they can be expected to reflect authorial spelling. As far as "ordinary" words are concerned, we know that their spelling was largely a "compositorial prerogative"; a certain interference of the compositor's spelling preferences has to be assumed, no matter whether the printer's copy was a manuscript or a printed text.[12] Many other factors, such as the transcription by Ralph Crane, must be assumed to have already obscured the authorial spelling. There is some evidence that the forms of proper names were more carefully preserved on their way from the foul papers to the extant printed texts, but it is a question whether this also applies to significant names, which are, after all, capitalized common nouns or adjectives.[13]

If there is no evidence to the contrary, it seems safe to assume that the significant names in Shakespeare owe their ultimate printed forms to many factors, not the least of which may be compositorial preference.

In determining the significance of a name the modern editor is no longer restricted to the tools of literary and non-bibliographical textual criticism. In some cases bibliographical methods can contribute valuable independent evidence. The following criteria are considered to be decisive in establishing the actual meaning of an apparently significant name. In addition to the internal evidence all forms of the name in the early editions (Qq, F1) must be listed by the OED as Elizabethan variants for the common noun or adjective. They have further to be shown to coincide with the orthography of the corresponding common nouns or adjectives in the early texts if they occur there. Finally, the possibility of compositorial preference has to be investigated.[14] The significant character of several proper names which may have been doubtful on the basis of internal evidence alone can be established beyond reasonable doubt by reference to bibliographical methods; the meaning of many other names can be corroborated in this way. By combining all the available evidence the last impediments to modernization, doubts concerning the significance of certain names, can be removed.

As has been mentioned, the need for modernization becomes especially critical when proper noun and common noun occur in the same Elizabethan spelling. Modernizing only the common noun produces a differentiation not intended by the author and may result in obscuring the significance of the name. In ADO, for example, the name Sea-cole occurs three times in the authoritative quarto as the name of the night watchman and the sexton (3.3.10, 12; 3.5.52); Dogberry's comment "God hath bless'd you with a good name" leaves no doubt as to the name's significance. The allusion is to coal imported by sea from Newcastle with its considerably higher heating value and price than the charcoal offered by colliers. The forms sea-cole and sea-coale seem

to have been used interchangeably, and we find that in the Folio the name, which always occurs in long lines, has been changed to Sea-coale while the common noun continues to appear in the form sea-cole (WIV 1.4.8; 2H4 2.1.85<Q1 sea cole). Most editors have modernized the proper noun along with the common noun. The modernization of the parallel Ote-cake needs hardly to be discussed in detail since it also has been rather generally modernized. There are, however, at least two editions of this century which have modern Oatcake and Elizabethan Seacole side by side.

As with Seacoal and Oatcake there seems to be no reason why Elizabethan forms should be retained for Dumb (2H4 2.4.83) and Turf (SHR Ind.2.92). The phonetic similarity remains unaffected when the variants Dumbe and Turph are used, though the modern reader will undoubtedly see an attempt at disguise where none exists in fact. Such an impression must certainly be expected in the case of the incongruous juxtaposition of Mistress Quickly's "Master Dumb, our minister" if the Dumbe variant is retained. In the case of Peter Turf it is difficult to see why any special importance should be attached to the obvious coincidence of the copy-text form: turph (LLL 4.2.84: D<Q1 turph; AYL 3.4.44: C; CYM 5.3.14: B) and turfe (MND 2.2.41: C<Q2 turffe; H5 4.1.14: A; HAM 4.5.31: B) are used throughout the Folio without recognizable distinction and occur with equal frequency.

The graphic evidence should also be the determining factor in modernizing to Dizzy. The First Folio's Dizie (MM 4.3.11) is listed in the OED as an Elizabethan variant which is also used in the Folio for the adjective (LR 4.6.12). Both occurrences were set by Compositor B, who changed the Lear example from the Quarto's dizi. The other two instances of the adjective (1H6 4.7.11; TRO 5.2.172<Q1 dizzy) read dizzie and were set by Compositor A.[15] Though these four examples cannot be regarded as sufficient for determining compositorial preferences, there is at least the possibility that Dizie is Compositor B's preferred form and that the significance is indeed "dizzy". Semantically Dizzy may be understood either as "foolish, stupid" (OED a.1) or "mentally or morally unsteady, giddy" (OED a.4). There seems to be little support for the interpretation "gambler", a suggestion advanced in the New Arden, obviously in connection with Steevens' conjecture Dicey. The necessary prerequisite for this conclusion, i.e. that dize is an Elizabethan variant of dice, seems to be lacking: neither in the OED nor in the First Folio, where the form dice

occurs eight times, dicers and dic'd each once, is a variant form with -z- to be found. In addition, the differentiation of the vowel sounds of dicey [ßi] and dizzy [i] at Shakespeare's time would preclude this double allusion. Such an interpretation is further weakened by the fact that Steevens' conjecture was apparently based on a misreading.[16]

The retention of Belman (SHR Ind. 1.20; F1 short line), the name of a hound, offers an example of a form which tends to lead the modern reader astray since if there is an association, it is most likely to be with the French bel. The name, however, does not refer to the beauty of the animal but rather to the bell-like quality of its voice. Similar dogs' names are not infrequent in the Elizabethan period; in Shakespeare, for example, we find Ringwood (WIV 2.1.106), whose barking causes the wood to resound. An unquestionable reference to this connotation, strange perhaps nowadays, may be found in Theseus' words when he proudly refers to the euphony of his pack, "match'd in mouth like bells" (MND 4.1.120). In addition, the F1 distribution of variant spellings for the word bell supports the interpretation "bell-man". As a common noun the word in question occurs once in the Folio (MAC 2.2.3) and is spelled Bell-man by Compositor A; the form Belman, however, was set by Compositor B. There is only one parallel compound in Shakespeare, bell-wether, which is spelled Bel-/weather by Compositor B (AYL 3.2.71), though another compositor, probably A, uses the form Bell-weather (WIV 3.5.98). The noun "bell" shows a similar distribution of forms with one -l and with double -ll. The uninflected form reads bell, irrespective of compositor, but the plural form shows an interesting variation: Compositor A always uses the form with double -ll (1H6 1.6.11; 2H6 3.1.366; 3H6 1.1.47), whereas Compositor B exhibits a noticeable preference for the form bels, which he uses four times (AYL 2.7.114; 3.3.70; JN 2.1.312; HAM 3.1.158) as opposed to his use of belles (TN 5.1.34; 2H6 5.1.3) or bells (OTH 2.1.110). Both the internal and the typographical evidence in this case give equal support to the significance "bell-man" and to the consequent modernization of the copy-text form.

Though the retention of old spellings in the above instances may produce an anachronistic impression of a conscious graphic distinction or may obscure the true significance of the name, the phonetic similarity remains unchanged. In contrast, the readings Shootie (F1) or Shooty (F2) will probably mislead the reader both graphically and

phonetically. This significant name from Measure for Measure (4.3.15) presents one of the cases in which internal evidence alone (though this must have led Capell to suggest "Shoe-tie" originally) remains somewhat inconclusive, and additional criteria are necessary to establish the meaning beyond doubt. As Warburton's conjecture Shooter demonstrates, Pompey's reference to "braue Mr Shootie the great Traueller" gives rise to an association with bravado and shooting and may cause the reader to think of armed journeys. On the other hand, if braue is understood as "showy", Capell's suggestion Shoo-tye seems quite logical, particularly since there are many contemporary allusions to the extravagant foreign fashion of conspicuous shoe ornaments. It should also be noted that there is no parallel case in Shakespeare of a significant name derived from a verb in such a way.

In considering the bibliographical evidence it is not sufficient that both shoo and tie are listed in the OED as seventeenth-century forms; the evidence of the First Folio has to be examined in detail.[17] The common noun occurs only once (WT 4.4.591) and is spelled Shooe-tye on a page set by Compositor A; the proper noun, however, was set by Compositor B. The preferred spelling of both Compositors A and B for the uninflected form of "(un)tie" is (un)tye,[18] but Compositor B does use the form tie twice, one of these occurring on the same page as Shootie (G3a23). More important is the negative evidence that Compositor B "displays a consistently strong preference for the final -y form of all words [i.e. polysyllabic] which can vary between final -y and -ie."[19] This preference would lead one to expect the spelling Shooty in a disyllabic word derived from "to shoot", not however Shootie. The spelling of the first syllable of the name is also revealing. The plural of "shoe", except for the obsolete form shoon, appears as shooes or shoes; the uninflected form, noun and verb, always occurs in one of two variants: shooe, used eight times (TMP 3.2.22: B; TGV 2.3.13, 14, 14, 16, 22: C; LLL 1.2.159: C<Q1 shoo; H5 4.1.47: A), and shoo, used six times (ERR 3.2.101: B; MV 1.2.38: A or D<Q1 shoo; AYL 3.2.352: B; H5 4.7.137: B; HAM 2.2.229: C; LR 4.6.185: B<Q1 shoot). Of these last six examples four were set by Compositor B, who

uses the form shooe only once in a justified line. B, thus, shows a preference for the form shoo which the other compositors do not seem to share. In the light of Elizabethan spelling habits it is, therefore, possible that Shootie means "shoe-tie"; the fact that the form was set by Compositor B makes this meaning plausible to the exclusion of the meaning "shooty". By combining the bibliographical with the internal evidence the meaning of the name can be reasonably well established, and there should be no hesitation about modernizing to Shoetie if the original sense is to be retained.[20]

Another example of those forms which give neither graphic nor phonetic clues to their original significance is the name of Don Armado's page in Love's Labour's Lost. This name occurs four times in the text and once in the stage directions in the form Moth. It was Richard Grant White who first applied orthographic criteria and established that the significance of the name is actually "mote" since the corresponding common noun, modernized to mote by all editors, is also spelled moth in the quartos and the First Folio with the exception of H5 Q3 where the form moath appears; only the plural, used once, reads moats (PER Q1 4.4.21). Further, the copious allusions to the small stature of the page unmistakably point to this meaning. R. G. White's argumentation has been generally accepted, as explanatory and glossarial notes in several editions suggest; yet the necessary consequence, that the name should be modernized along with the common noun, has not yet been effected by a single editor — despite the widespread conviction that the traditional form no longer conveys the original Elizabethan sense.

This curious phenomenon presents another aspect of 20th-century modernization policy. Of the significant names retained in their Elizabethan forms by Clark and Wright only unobtrusive ones have been modernized. All editors have avoided changes affecting a well-known character in a noticeable way, especially since this would also mean defying the tradition of the last two hundred and fifty years.[21] If a

minor character is involved, there is not the same degree of hesitancy. An example is offered by the case of the elf in Midsummer Night's Dream with the same name as Armado's page: at least one editor has modernized to Mote though in an individual edition (Arden), thus sparing him from making the consequent change in Love's Labour's Lost. It is unfortunate that the impression of lightness, grace and minuteness which the significant name should convey in both of these instances is suggested to the modern reader by Moth rather than Mote and that the latter now seems to be inextricably connected with the biblical admonition. This change in connotative value may further explain the reluctance of editors to modernize this name though it is no secret that similar changes in connotation have affected many other words since Shakespeare's time. The fact that there is general scholarly agreement that Shakespeare intended Mote in both these plays should make modernization indispensable. The inconsistency of the prevalent policy becomes all too obvious when one considers that some editors would probably not hesitate to change both names to Mote if the Elizabethan form for both the insect and the particle did not happen to be identical with the modern form for the insect.

Unlike those names already treated in which an initial ambiguity can be removed by applying external and internal evidence, there are some names whose significant character cannot be established beyond doubt, but even in the face of a certain ambivalence the traditional forms no longer seem justified in a modern edition. Proteus' servant in The Two Gentlemen of Verona and Bassanio's servant in The Merchant of Venice are good examples; their names are usually given as Launce and Launcelot. The former may be the Christian name "Lance", a short form for Lancelot,[22] or may signify "lance", the weapon or the surgical instrument (cf. OED sb.1. & 3). In order to retain this ambiguous nature the form should be modernized to Lance, which leaves the modern reader with the same choice as the original.

The name of the servant in The Merchant of Venice presents a more difficult problem. The form Launcelot is Rowe's emendation; the authoritative text (Q1) has Launcelet throughout.[23] In Pavier's

reprint of 1619 and in the First Folio, both of which were set from Q1, the name is spelled Launcelet and Lancelet. The form Lancelot does occur once (Q2 2.2.77), but it is more than overbalanced by the approximately ninety occurrences in Q1, Q2 and F1, all ending in -et; it is, therefore, difficult not to regard this isolated instance in a derived text as a misprint. Not unlike Launce, the name may be significant and refer to the clownish witticisms of the character or it may be a contemporary variant of the Christian name Lancelot,[24] especially since it precedes the family name Iobbe. The exigencies of modern orthography, however, do not so happily coincide here as in the case of Launce/Lance, and a choice between Lancelet and Lancelot is necessary. The form Lancelot, which has been used in two modern editions,[25] precludes any allusion to "lancelet", whereas Lancelet is both closer to the copy-text form and will, in connection with the family name, undoubtedly also suggest "Lancelot". Either of these two modernized forms seems preferable to Rowe's Launcelot, which in modern usage refers exclusively to the hero of Arthurian legend, a questionable allusion in this case.