12 
PLANT-LORE OF SHAKESPEARE 
(13) Petmchio. Nay, come, Kate, come, you must not look so sour. 
Katherine. It is my fashion, when I see a Crab. 
Petrucliio. Why, here’s no Crab, and therefore look not sour. 
Taming of the Shrew, ii. I, 229. 
(14) We have some old Crab-trees here at home that will not 
Be grafted to your relish.— Coriolanus , ii. 1, 205. 
(13) Noble stock 
Was graft with Crab-tree slip. 
2 nd Henry VI, iii. 2, 213. 
(16) Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staves, and strong ones. 
Henry VIII, v. 4, 7. 
(17) My skin hangs about me like an old lady’s loose gown; I am withered 
like an old Apple-john.— 1st Henry IV, iii. 3, 3. 
(18) \st Drawer. What the devil hast thou brought there ? Apple-johns? 
Thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an Apple-john. 
2nd Drawer. Mass ! thou sayest true; the prince once set a dish 
of Apple-johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir 
Johns ; and putting off his hat, said, I will now take my leave of 
these six dry, round, old, withered knights.— 2 nd Henry IV, ii. 4, 1. 
(19) Shallow. Nay, you shall see my orchard, where, in an arbour, we 
will eat a last year’s Pippin of my own graffing, with a dish of 
Caraways, and so forth. 
• • • • • • • 
Davey. There’s a dish of Leather-coats for you.— Ibid., v. 3, 144. 
(20) I pray you be gone; I will make an end of my dinner. There’s 
Pippins and cheese to come.— Merry Wives of Windsor, i. 2, 11. 
(21) The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe as the Pome- 
water, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of ccelo —the sky, 
the welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a Crab on the face of 
terra —the soil, the land, the earth.— Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 2, 3. 
(22) Mercutio. Thy wit is a very Bitter Sweeting ; it is a most sharp sauce. 
Romeo. And is it not well served in to a sweet goose ? 
Romeo and Juliet, ii. 4, 83. 
(23) What’s this? A sleeve? ’Tis like a demi-cannon. 
What ! up and down, carved like an Apple-tart? 
Taming of the Shrew, iv. 3, 88. 
How like Eve’s Apple doth thy beauty grow, 
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show !— Sonnet xciii. 
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