In Anthony and Cleopatra, Caesar, who is disciplined and ascetic, both envies and scorns Anthony. In one of the play's greatest moments, Caesar apostrophizes his hedonistic, indulgent rival. "Anthony," he begins, "Leave thy lascivious wassails." "Lascivious wassails" is a most marvelous phrase -- not only because of its serpentine hissing, but because it is so colorful. In another context, the word "wassails" might signify conviviality, but in this case it is so contaminated by the wickedness of "lascivious" that it can only be taken to signify bouts of drunken excess. "Lascivious wassails" is glancingly oxymoronic and consequently embodies Caesar's confused and contradictory feelings toward Anthony.
It's an especially pertinent phrase because the speech that follows celebrates those qualities of Anthony which Caesar most admires (and which he simultaneously finds most threatening) -- his Spartan, soldierly ability to put aside luxurious food and drink and to subsist on "the bark of trees," and, if necessary, to drink from "the gilded puddle that beasts would cough at."
"Lascivious wassails" is brilliant in its freestanding self and without doubt entirely appropriate to its context. It's one of Shakespeare's all-time-great encapsulations -- a condensed and beautiful phrase.
Except that it's not Shakespeare's. Or, more precisely, it is probably not Shakespeare.
The Folio text of Anthony and Cleopatra seems to have been set from a transcript of Shakespeare's manuscript. It's the only early printing (there are no Quartos). In the Folio, the line appears this way: "Anthony,/ Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes." "Vassailes" was, for the first hundred years of its existence, understood to mean "vassals." Caesar, it appears, wants Anthony to take leave of not his cups but his followers. In the fourth Folio of 1683, the irregular spelling "vassailes" was regularized to "vassals." "Wassails" did not arrive on the scene until 1724 and was the ingenious, inspired invention of Alexander Pope. Every single editor since Pope, no doubt taken with the beauty of the phrase, has printed "wassails."
It's not as though "vassals" doesn't make sense. It's perfectly fine. It's just the "wassails" is better. In this instance, let's face it, Pope outdid Shakespeare. If not for Pope, it is highly likely that it would have been "lascivious vassals" until the end of time. Who beside a great poet would have thought of "wassails?" Certainly not I.
Editors aim for authenticity -- to print what they believe Shakespeare wrote. Shakespeare probably wrote "vassals" -- but "wassails" is so clever that editors cannot help but succumb. They follow the illogic that if it's brilliant, it must be Shakespeare. And so authenticity gladly yields to beauty.
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