The plant-lore & garden-craft of Shakespeare
_Timon of Athens_, act iv, sc. 3 (263).
(12) _Timon._
The Oaks bear mast, the Briers scarlet hips.
_Ibid._ (422).
(13) _Montano._
What ribs of Oak, when mountains melt on them,
Can hold the mortise?
_Othello_, act ii, sc. 1 (7).
(14) _Iago._
She that so young could give out such a seeming
To seel her father's eyes up close as Oak.
_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 3 (209).
(15) _Marcius._
He that depends
Upon your favours swims with fins of lead
And hews down Oaks with rushes.
_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 1 (183).
(16) _Arviragus._
To thee the Reed is as the Oak.
_Cymbeline_, act iv, sc. 2 (267).
(17) _Lear._
Oak-cleaving thunderbolts.
_King Lear_, act iii, sc. 2 (5).
(18) _Nathaniel._
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;
Those thoughts to me were Oaks, to thee like Osiers bow'd.
_Love's Labour's Lost_, act iv, sc. 2 (111).
[The same lines in the "Passionate Pilgrim."]
(19) _Nestor._
When the splitting wind
Makes flexible the knees of knotted Oaks.
_Troilus and Cressida_, act i, sc. 3 (49).
(20) _Volumnia._
To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he returned, his brows
bound with Oak.
_Coriolanus_, act i, sc. 3 (14).
_Volumnia._
He comes the third time home with the Oaken garland.
_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 1 (137).
_Cominius._
He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed
Was brow-bound with the Oak.
_Ibid._, act ii, sc. 2 (101).
_2nd Senator._
The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock, the Oak, not
to be wind-shaken.
_Ibid._, act v, sc. 2 (116).
_Volumnia._
To charge thy sulphur with a bolt
That should but rive an Oak.
_Ibid._, act v, sc. 3 (152).
(21) _Casca._
I have seen tempests when the scolding winds
Have rived the knotty Oaks.
_Julius Cæsar_, act i, sc. 3 (5).
(22) _Celia._
I found him under a tree like a dropped Acorn.
_Rosalind._
It may well be called Jove's tree, when it drops forth such
fruit.
_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 2 (248).
(23) _Prospero._
Thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the Acorn cradled.
_Tempest_, act i, sc. 2 (462).
(24) _Puck._
All their elves for fear
Creep into Acorn-cups, and hide them there.
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act ii, sc. 1 (30).
(25) _Lysander._
Get you gone, you dwarf--you beed--you Acorn!
_Ibid._, act iii, sc. 2 (328).
(26) _Posthumus._
Like a full-Acorned boar--a German one.
_Cymbeline_, act ii, sc. 5 (16).
(27) _Messenger._
About his head he weares the winner's Oke.
_Two Noble Kinsmen_, act iv, sc. 2 (154).
(28)
Time's glory is . . . .
To dry the old Oak's sap.
_Lucrece_ (950).
Here are several very pleasant pictures, and there is so much of
historical and legendary lore gathered round the Oaks of England that it
is very tempting to dwell upon them. There are the historical Oaks
connected with the names of William Rufus, Queen Elizabeth, and Charles
II.; there are the wonderful Oaks of Wistman's Wood (certainly the most
weird and most curious wood in England, if not in Europe); there are the
many passages in which our old English writers have loved to descant on
the Oaks of England as the very emblems of unbroken strength and
unflinching constancy; there is all the national interest which has
linked the glories of the British navy with the steady and enduring
growth of her Oaks; there is the wonderful picturesqueness of the great
Oak plantations of the New Forest, the Forest of Dean, and other royal
forests; and the equally, if not greater, picturesqueness of the English
Oak as the chief ornament of our great English parks; there is the
scientific interest which suggested the growth of the Oak for the plan
of our lighthouses, and many other interesting points. It is very
tempting to stop on each and all of these, but the space is too limited,
and they can all be found ably treated of and at full length in any of
the books that have been written on the English forest trees.
OATS.
(1) _Iris._
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of Wheat, Rye, Barley, Vetches, Oats, and Pease.
_Tempest_, act iv, sc. 1 (60).
(2) _Spring Song._
When shepherds pipe on Oaten straws.
_Love's Labour's Lost_, act v, sc. 2 (913).
(3) _Bottom._
Truly a peck of provender; I could munch your good dry Oats.
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv, sc. 1 (35).
(4) _Grumio._
Ay, sir, they be ready; the Oats have eaten the horses.
_Taming of the Shrew_, act iii, sc. 2 (207).
(5) _First Carrier._
Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of Oats rose--it was
the death of him.
_1st Henry IV_, act ii, sc. 1 (13).
(6) _Captain._
I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried Oats,
If it be man's work, I'll do it.
_King Lear_, act v, sc. 3 (38).
Shakespeare's Oats need no comment, except to note that the older
English name for Oats was Haver (_see_ "Promptorium Parvulorum," p. 372;
and "Catholicon Anglicum," p. 178, with the notes). The word was in use
in Shakespeare's time, and still survives in the northern parts of
England.
OLIVE.
(1) _Clarence._
To whom the heavens in thy nativity
Adjudged an Olive branch.
_3rd Henry VI_, act iv, sc. 6 (33).
(_See_ LAUREL.)
(2) _Alcibiades._
Bring me into your city,
And I will use the Olive with my sword.
_Timon of Athens_, act v, sc. 4 (81).
(3) _Cæsar._
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world
Shall bear the Olive freely.
_Antony and Cleopatra_, act iv, sc. 6 (5).
(4) _Rosalind._
If you will know my house
'Tis at the tuft of Olives here hard by.
_As You Like It_, act iii, sc. 5 (74).
(5) _Oliver._
Where, in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheepcote fenced about with Olive trees?
_Ibid._, act iv, sc. 3 (77).
(6) _Viola._
I bring no overture of war, no taxation of homage; I hold the
Olive in my hand; my words are as full of peace as matter.
_Twelfth Night_, act i, sc. 5 (224).
(7) _Westmoreland._
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd,
But peace puts forth her Olive everywhere.
_2nd Henry IV_, act iv, sc. 4 (86).
(8)
And peace proclaims Olives of endless age.
_Sonnet_ cvii.
There is no certain record by which we can determine when the Olive
tree was first introduced into England. Miller gives 1648 as the
earliest date he could discover, at which time it was grown in the
Oxford Botanic Garden. But I have no doubt it was cultivated long before
that. Parkinson knew it as an English tree in 1640, for he says: "It
flowereth in the beginning of summer in the warmer countries, but very
late _with us_; the fruite ripeneth in autumne in Spain, &c., but
seldome _with us_" ("Herball," 1640). Gerard had an Oleaster in his
garden in 1596, which Mr. Jackson considers to have been the Olea
Europea, and with good reason, as in his account of the Olive in the
"Herbal" he gives Oleaster as one of the synonyms of Olea sylvestris,
the wild Olive tree. But I think its introduction is of a still earlier
date. In the Anglo-Saxon "Leech Book," of the tenth century, published
under the direction of the Master of the Rolls, I find this
prescription: "Pound Lovage and Elder rind and Oleaster, that is, wild
Olive tree, mix them with some clear ale and give to drink" (book i. c.
37, Cockayne's translation). As I have never heard that the bark of the
Olive tree was imported, it is only reasonable to suppose that the
leeches of the day had access to the living tree. If this be so, the
tree was probably imported by the Romans, which they are very likely to
have done. But it seems very certain that it was in cultivation in
England in Shakespeare's time and he may have seen it growing.
But in most of the eight passages in which he names the Olive, the
reference to it is mainly as the recognized emblem of peace; and it is
in that aspect, and with thoughts of its touching Biblical associations
that we must always think of the Olive. It is _the_ special plant of
honour in the Bible, by "whose fatness they honour God and man," linked
with the rescue of the one family in the ark, and with the rescue of the
whole family of man in the Mount of Olives. Every passage in which it is
named in the Bible tells the uniform tale of its usefulness, and the
emblematical lessons it was employed to teach; but I must not dwell on
them. Nor need I say how it was equally honoured by Greeks and Romans.
As a plant which produced an abundant and necessary crop of fruit with
little or no labour (+phyteum' acheirôton autopoion+, Sophocles; "non
ulla est oleis cultura," Virgil), it was looked upon with special pride,
as one of the most blessed gifts of the gods, and under the constant
protection of Minerva, to whom it was thankfully dedicated.[186:1]
We seldom see the Olive in English gardens, yet it is a good evergreen
tree to cover a south wall, and having grown it for many years, I can
say that there is no plant--except, perhaps, the Christ's Thorn--which
gives such universal interest to all who see it. It is quite hardy,
though the winter will often destroy the young shoots; but not even the
winter of 1860 did any serious mischief, and fine old trees may
occasionally be seen which attest its hardiness. There is one at Hanham
Hall, near Bristol, which must be of great age. It is at least 30ft.
high, against a south wall, and has a trunk of large girth; but I never
saw it fruit or flower in England until this year (1877), when the Olive
in my own garden flowered, but did not bear fruit. Miller records trees
at Campden House, Kensington, which, in 1719, produced a good number of
fruit large enough for pickling, and other instances have been recorded
lately. Perhaps if more attention were paid to the grafting, fruit would
follow. The Olive has the curious property that it seems to be a matter
of indifference whether, as with other fruit, the cultivated sort is
grafted on the wild one, or the wild on the cultivated one; the latter
plan was certainly sometimes the custom among the Greeks and Romans, as