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The problem of emending semi-substantive readings is essentially the same whether in old-spelling or in modernized texts. The means of emendation may differ according to the editorial punctuation system adopted, but the transmission of meaning by emendation of the accidentals will produce the same result. However, the tendency in modernized editions not to record semi-substantive emendations (except as in Foakes's New Arden), despite their importance, stifles the reader's awareness of their presence. And this relaxation in modernized editions of the old-spelling rule that all variants should be recorded sometimes hides from the modernizing editor himself the fact that a very real problem exists, the more especially since most modernizing editors (as of Shakespeare) mark up a copy of some preceding edition for their printer's copy and hence are considerably influenced by traditional editorial accidentals, particularly of punctuation concealing problems in the original.

Sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century dramatic texts are often printed from type-cases that did not contain exclamation marks, or with so few such sorts that they could not be employed with any frequency. Hence it was customary for the obvious emphatic to be accompanied by perfectly ordinary punctuation. (For example, the common exclamation 'Ha' could be followed by a comma, a semicolon, colon, period, or a question mark.) Compositors intent on indicating an exclamation often used a question mark, thus posing a special problem for modernizing (and to a lesser degree old-spelling) editors in cases when the context was about as suitable for a partial query as for an exclamation. For a brief consideration of some of the problems, see Bowers, "Readability and Regularization in Old-

Spelling Texts of Shakespeare," Huntington Library Quarterly, 50 (1987), 213-215. Indeed, in some manuscripts, as in Ralph Crane's Barnavelt, the exact inscription whether a question or exclamation mark may be in legitimate doubt.

In modernized texts the neglected distinction between restrictive and non-restrictive relative clauses may usually be worth imposing. The habit of early writers and their printers of forming long speeches by piling up a number of independent clauses, one after another, separated either by semicolons or colons—sometimes confusingly intermixed with stray commas—may often be worth preserving, as exemplified in R. A. Foakes's New Arden edition of Henry VIII. Forming new sentences by capitalization from such a series of clauses can produce a rather choppy effect, even when in the original a colon, say, is followed by a capitol. What is and what is not a run-on line is often in question, given the convention of line-ending commas; not all unpunctuated line-endings need be run-on, but a lack of punctuation in the original may often be given the benefit of the doubt without contrary evidence. For an old-spelling editor the conservative alteration of the dramatic punctuation should be attempted always in terms of the original system of the print with due regard for the compositor setting the lines in question. The urge to insure maximum readability in old-spelling texts by what is actually a form of modernization is one to be resisted: many old-spelling editors tinker too freely with early punctuation that is admittedly irregular but nevertheless characteristic and not necessarily in danger of being misunderstood by a reader accustomed to the system.

All quotations transcribe the Folio except for indented part-lines, the correction of mislining, and the modernization of i-j and v-u as well as of the old long ſ. Emended passages will be found in my edition of the play in vol. 7 (1989) of the Cambridge University Press Dramatic Works in the Beaumont and Fletcher Canon.

Such a good modernized edition as that of Foakes's New Arden achieves an acceptable compromise between the Folio punctuation and the requirements of a modernized-text reader. In this passage the New Arden alters the colon after 'little' to a semicolon; drops the comma after 'present'; reduces the capital of 'But' to lower case; substitutes a semicolon for a comma after 'flesh'; removes the comma after 'opinions'; and substitutes a comma for the semicolon after 'Heresies'.

A typical example from Henry VIII comes in I.iv.43-45 (722-724), which reads in the Folio:

Here it is clear that the meaning is obstructed by the formality of an end-of-the-line comma after "em' in what is obviously a run-on line. In reverse, at I.ii.203-206 (556-559) when the Surveyor is quoting Buckingham's threats against the King, the compositor seems to have switched the proper line-ending comma to the caesura, thus distorting the sense, which is clarified in the New Arden's use of quotation marks when the Surveyor is repeating the Duke's words: 'After "the duke his father", with the "knife", | He stretch'd him'. Since this indication of quoting is a modernization, though useful, all an old-spelling editor need do is to move the comma after 'Father' to follow 'knife'. Such exchanges of position within a line or sometimes even between the ending of one line and the caesura or ending of the next are a commonplace that leads one to speculate that the compositor had settled on the punctuation but inadvertently switched positions when he was carrying too much text in his head. A more delicate transposition between line-endings probably comes in III.i.175-178 (1812-16): Most editors (the New Arden among the exceptions) emend to place a heavier mark, like a semicolon, after 'unmannerly' and a lighter mark after 'me'. Honest men may differ here, but by a hair it may seem very slightly better as in the Folio to associate the dependent clause 'If . . . unmannerly' as the stated reason for forgiveness. Nevertheless, the case is obscure and emendation of F is certainly not required. Earlier in this same scene Katherine furnishes another small but interesting possibility for a meaning different from F, one that also would affect the actress' delivery of her lines. A Gentleman has just announced the arrival of Wolsey and Campeius, to which Katherine responds, in the Folio: And then, in soliloquy: In the F1-4 reading Katherine expresses first puzzlement, which turns to dislike; but then, after reflection, she charitably alters her feeling since the Cardinals by their office ought to be good men, and their business with her (or their actions in their priestly capacity) as well-intended as their goodness. She thus ends by reconciling herself to the visitation, albeit in a spirit of caution that these priests may not be so pure in intention as would be expected from a devout and sheltered monastic. In a transposition (adopted recently by Oxford) Capell in TLN 1641 switched the semicolon and comma so that the line read 'I doe not like their comming, now I thinke on't;'. This changes the modification of 'now I thinke on't' to apply to her dislike of their arrival: Katherine is at first puzzled by the news of the Cardinals' visitation, but on thinking it over she decides she does not like it. The reason follows, that 'all Hoods, make not Monkes.' In her delivery it is obvious that an actress will differ according as she reads the Folio or the Capell emendation of the line. One may suggest that though the Capell version is the simpler and more straightforward, the motivation or line of reasoning is less revelatory of character and that the Folio is more consistent with Katherine's established character showing a combination of charity with 'burnt child'. Yet either syntactical modification created by the line's placement of the strong semicolon stop makes sense. Nonetheless, whatever one thinks of the virtues of Capell's sense, it is not so superior in its coherence as to lead to an overturning of whatever authority the Folio has in its pointing. The Folio line would seem to be the better acting one and it better fits Katherine's capitulation at the end of the scene. A conservative editor should think twice before being seduced by the surface plausibility of the Capell semi-substantive emendation.

Whether mistake, rhetorical pause, or convention is doubtful in the caesural comma in III.ii.407-409 (2319-22):

An old-spelling reader might perhaps be ready, after a hesitation, to see that 'In that one woman' is not the object of 'Glories' but of 'lost for ever', but it would be well to emend. The caesural convention is more glaring in V.i.131-133 (2932-34): Compositorial misunderstanding or too strong rhetorical punctuation interferes with intelligibility for a moment in V.iv.17-19 (3387-89): A modernizing editor must thoroughly repunctuate to make 'Heaven . . . her' parenthetical; but for an old-spelling editor it should be enough to substitute a comma for the caesural semicolon after 'Cradle'. Alternatively, a colon could take the place of the semicolon after 'her' with no other change in punctuation. As with Wolsey in his cradle (see below, IV.ii.50 [2608]; both passages by Fletcher), the ambiguous syntax needs straightening out.

This information I draw from the notes to the New Arden edition, but curiously this text is unusual in preserving the ambiguous punctuation of the Folio.

One final gnaw at this bone. Although the description of gold heathen gods as clinquant is well enough, the real association of clinquant is with the lace the French wore. Thus the intention of the passage as developed from its imagery is best realized by the emended punctuation 'All Clinquant, all in Gold like Heathen Gods,' which clarifies the parenthesis between subject (the French) and direct object (the English), and thus the French outshone the English.

Another example of a subtle but necessary exchange comes at I.iii.59-62 (647-651) adopted by editors from Theobald. Wolsey's bounty is being praised, to which Lord Sands responds:

Superficially this might stand, but Theobald saw truly that the sense requires sparing in him, and thus an editor must move the semicolon after 'him' to follow 'wherewithall', leaving 'him' without punctuation to show a run-on line. (Incidentally, one may notice the caesural comma after 'way', which here is innocuous.) The above was in a setting by Compositor I, but at I.i.68-72 (118-122) Compositor B makes an even grosser error of understanding and of mistaken punctuation: Once again it was Theobald who saw that the query after 'Hell' (120) and the start of a new sentence with 'The Divell' resulted from a misunderstanding and that the sense requires the exchange 'whence ha's he that? | If not from Hell, the Divell is a Niggard'.

For example, I.iv.103-108 (812-817) ends with the enamoured King and his party leaving for a private room to continue their revels:

The King first addresses his party, then Anne Bullen, then Wolsey; then comes the coy hint addressed to Anne or to the company—less likely to Wolsey—followed by a general command for the music. If the Folio punctuation is followed (as it is by the fourteen modern editions since the Globe that I have collated), the address to Wolsey begins with 'Let's be merry'. But Theobald, now ignored, perceived truly that what Henry has to say to the Cardinal starts, instead, with 'I have a halfe a dozen healths, | To drinke', prefixed as usual in such address by 'good', which singles out for attention the person spoken to. Henry's 'Let's be merry' should properly be spoken either to Anne Bullen after his promise not to forsake her in the revelry, or else, perhaps a shade more likely, as a cheering interjection to the company at large after his private speech to Anne. It is worth noting that even such a formula as 'My good Lord' is more likely than not to begin an address, or at least a new sentence, as in I.iv.56-57 (744-745), 'Good Lord Chamberlaine, | Go, give 'em welcome'; but when the inversion 'Good my Lord' or its equivalent appears, it almost invariably heads a new sentence or clause, as in 'O good my Lord, no Latin', III.i.42 (1664): 'good your Graces | Let me have time and Councell for my Cause', III.i.78-79 (1703-4); 'Good my Lord, | You are full of Heavenly stuffe', III.ii.136-137 (2004-5); 'Stay good my Lords, | I have a little yet to say', V.ii.131-132 (3160-61). The various syntactical parallels (broken only by V.iii.28 [3287], 'I shall be with you presently, good M. Puppy') suggest strongly the manner in which the actor playing Henry must manage the different addresses in this closing speech. Modern editors have allowed a conservative respect for the Folio punctuation (which in this play is far from trustworthy) to dull their sense of theatrical requirements. Read, 'Let's be merry; | Good my Lord Cardinall, I have a halfe a dozen healths, | To drinke'. In an old-spelling edition no urgent need exists to remove the line-ending comma after 'healths'.

Semi-substantives are most commonly found among the punctuation, but spelling can be semi-substantive as witness the frequent confusion between travail and travel.

In the broad sense semi-substantives certainly should identify accidentals that alter authorial intention in a meaningful manner comparable to faulty substantives, regardless of any editorial consensus. However, the most interesting editorially are those accidentals which constitute cruxes in meaning in that editors are in general not united either in declaring the original faulty for sense or in the most suitable means for repairing assumed corruption. Editorial disagreement, thus, is not necessary to turn accidentals into semi-substantives; merely, the most eligible accidentals for semi-substantive status are those that constitute cruxes. I argue only on practical grounds and on a case-by-case basis for touchstones, although with certain important considerations. A crux may be incipient in that it is potentially present although not currently admitted, as was true for the King's exit speech at I.iv considered above in footnote 11. Historicity cannot be ignored, however. For many years there appeared to be no question that Hamlet's flesh was solid and not sullied, but the reading is now debated with sullied gaining ground. Of course, not every variant may conceal future dispute, the lunatic fringe aside: it is unlikely that in I.ii.77 (258) Hamlet should address Gertrude as cold mother (Q2) instead of good mother (F1). Moreover, earlier editorial differences about a crucial reading may become so resolved by unanimity that thereafter a crux can scarcely be said to exist—at least at the present time, for the example of the close of I.iv may give us pause. On practical grounds, therefore, I suggest we may identify the most important critical sense of semi-substantives narrowly—and for purposes of discussion here—as differences of current or at least recent editorial opinion about the actual variable sense produced by accidentals, in their significance for variant meaning paralleling substantive cruxes.

If one tests the crux by the commonsense question what the words would signify to an ordinary audience hearing them from the stage, the answer is certainly that 'out' would mean 'without'. The exact circumstances discussed in the New Arden note would not be ascertainable or at all important; that is, whether the council was or was not sitting at the time (Johnson), or whether all mention of the council had been omitted from the letter (Steevens). It is the phrase 'his owne Letter' that shapes the audience's response, it being clear that it was this letter (written without the authority of the council) that brought in the recipient. Holinshed writes that "the peers, receiving letters to prepare themselves to attend the king in their journie . . . seemed to grudge, that such a costlie journie should be

taken in hand to their importunate charges and expenses, without consent of the whole boord of the councell." This source passage may be trusted to explicate 'out' as without. Read 'his owne Letter, | The Honourable Boord of Councell out, | Must fetch'.

See footnote 10 and the crux at I.i.69-70 (119-120) for Compositor B starting a new sentence in the wrong place. Some transpositions are so lacking in sense as to lead me to speculate that sometimes the transposition resulted from memorial failure by the compositor. That is, as in Moxon's advice, he would have read over several lines and decided on the punctuation, but when he turned to his cases and began setting from memory, he inadvertently transposed the selected punctuation. As a typical though minor example from Henry VIII we find in F

where 'assembly | This' should be the run-on line and the end-of-the-line comma should come after 'heere' instead. A more important example closer to the cradle crux, although set by Compositor I, comes when Campeius is presenting his Papal commission to Henry, a document that appoints Wolsey as the second judge in the Queen's trial. The Folio mistakenly reads: Here 'The Court of Rome commanding' is a parenthesis modifying 'vertue', part of an inverted phrase before the subject of the sentence 'You my Lord'. Read 'commanding, you my Lord | Cardinall of Yorke, are joyn'd', with retention of the caesural comma. More typical is Henry's aside in the Blackfriars court scene, also set by Compositor I: Transposition to read 'Prethee returne: with thy approch, I know' straightens out the compositorial error caused by memorial failure, although mistaken sense cannot be ruled out.

One may note the ambiguity of the question mark, which poses a problem for modernizing editors more than for old-spelling. Some take the question mark to be the Folio equivalent of an exclamation, as often, and like Alexander, Kittredge, and the New Penguin print 'him!' Others, like the New Arden, follow the Globe in retaining the query. Since in my opinion only in extreme cases of possible confusion of the sense should an old-spelling editor insert uncharacteristic exclamation points in texts normally wanting them, such an editor may well retain the question mark here. Although it is likely that Norfolk's is an exclamation, it is also possible that, with ellipsis, he is inquiring Has this priest no pride in him? which might be supported by Suffolk's response, although not necessarily so. Even if an old-spelling editor chooses to interpret the line as an exclamation, the conventional question mark conveys the sense well enough in an unmodernized text. Of course, a modernizing editor must make a choice.

To venture one may be closely associated but perhaps not idiomatically identical with to make one: see, for example, 'Ile make one in a dance', LLL, V.i.160 (1884) or 'I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one', MWW, II.iii.48 (1108-9), where 'make one' means to join a group.

It is true that the Folio is our sole authority and that its reading of Norfolk's line,

alone, makes sense. It is also true that Compositor I, who set the line, often introduces strong stops like a semicolon or even a period in inappropriate places (vide 'So if that quarrell. Fortune, do divorce', II.iii.14 [1217]) so that the Folio semicolon may be an error as required by a nominal have-at-him. But general suspicion of Compositor I's punctuation, no matter how well deserved, is no demonstration of error. Nor perhaps is the interesting fact that the F2 compositor failed to understand the idiom of 'Ile venture one' and by removing the semicolon and substituting 'heave' for 'have' he indicated that he thought 'one' was an adjective. In the end, the reading is likely subject only to opinion. I opt for 'have at him' as a noun and the emended deletion of the intrusive semicolon, in part moved by a question whether, in actuality, venture one is a true parallel here to make one. If it is not, except for the possible interpretation that 'Ile venture one' means I for one will venture (and I doubt it) the phrase is idiomatically suspect. It seems probable, therefore, that Randolph's nominal 'one have at all of mine' is the true parallel, in which case the possibility of 'have at him' as a noun, also, is the stronger and emendation in Henry VIII is advisable.