From c5fcf7179a83ef65c86c6a4a390029149e518649 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Franciszek Malinka Date: Tue, 5 Oct 2021 21:49:54 +0200 Subject: Duzy commit ze smieciami --- semestr-4/ask/lista0/Lista 0.pdf | Bin 0 -> 362255 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista0/ask21_lista_0.pdf | Bin 0 -> 94705 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista0/rozw.c | 78 + semestr-4/ask/lista1/ask21_lista_1.pdf | Bin 0 -> 118889 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista1/rozw.c | 217 + semestr-4/ask/lista1/test.c | 11 + semestr-4/ask/lista1/zad7.txt | 21 + .../ask/lista11/__pycache__/gen.cpython-38.pyc | Bin 0 -> 1323 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista11/gen.py | 65 + semestr-4/ask/lista11/zad8.c | 23 + semestr-4/ask/lista12/rozw.c | 71 + semestr-4/ask/lista13/186422.cpp | 47 + semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13.tgz | Bin 0 -> 2059455 bytes .../ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/._shakespeare.txt | Bin 0 -> 212 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/dictionary.c | 434 + semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/graph.png | Bin 0 -> 154292 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.c | 212 + semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.h | 28 + .../ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/shakespeare.txt | 172948 ++++++++++++++++++ semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/zad1.c | 16 + semestr-4/ask/lista13/sum.txt | 0 semestr-4/ask/lista2/ask21_lista_2.pdf | Bin 0 -> 137597 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista2/pom.c | 38 + semestr-4/ask/lista3/ask21_lista_3.pdf | Bin 0 -> 152374 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista4/ask21_lista_4.pdf | Bin 0 -> 149361 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista5/ask21_lista_5.pdf | Bin 0 -> 91135 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle3.s | 19 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle4.s | 24 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle5.s | 24 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.asm | 15 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.c | 25 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.s | 98 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.asm | 15 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.c | 44 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad3.c | 60 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad4.c | 66 + semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad5.c | 54 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.c | 28 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.s | 22 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle7.s | 29 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.c | 25 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.s | 30 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/test.c | 9 + semestr-4/ask/lista6/zad7.c | 18 + semestr-4/ask/lista7/eval.s | 18 + semestr-4/ask/lista7/wrap.s | 18 + semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.c | 38 + semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.s | 0 semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.cpp | 19 + semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.ll | 174 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/._lista_8 | Bin 0 -> 212 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista8/ask21_lista_8.tgz | Bin 0 -> 2136 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista8/bar.c | 5 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/even.c | 8 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/foo.c | 5 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/lazy.c | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/main.lds | 39 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-1.map | 300 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-2.map | 301 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-a.c | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-b.c | 8 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/odd.c | 8 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/relo3.c | 15 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/start.c | 8 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-a.c | 10 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-b.c | 9 + semestr-4/ask/lista8/swap.c | 18 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/gadget.s | 16 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/lazy.c | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/lista_9.tgz | Bin 0 -> 1278 bytes semestr-4/ask/lista9/relo3.c | 15 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.c | 31 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in (1).txt | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in.txt | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.map | 511 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.c | 7 + semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.s | 50 + .../materia\305\202y/ask21-05-machine-basics.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 930028 bytes .../materia\305\202y/ask21-06-machine-control.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 1673505 bytes .../ask21-07-machine-procedures.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 1096679 bytes .../ask/materia\305\202y/hackersdelight.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 25678006 bytes .../ask/materia\305\202y/x64_cheatsheet.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 192472 bytes .../ask/materia\305\202y/x86-64-psABI-1.0.pdf" | Bin 0 -> 496280 bytes semestr-4/ask/zadanie1/rozw.c | 21 + 84 files changed, 176501 insertions(+) create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista0/Lista 0.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista0/ask21_lista_0.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista0/rozw.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista1/ask21_lista_1.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista1/rozw.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista1/test.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista1/zad7.txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista11/__pycache__/gen.cpython-38.pyc create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista11/gen.py create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista11/zad8.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista12/rozw.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/186422.cpp create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13.tgz create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/._shakespeare.txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/dictionary.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/graph.png create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.h create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/shakespeare.txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/zad1.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista13/sum.txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista2/ask21_lista_2.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista2/pom.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista3/ask21_lista_3.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista4/ask21_lista_4.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/ask21_lista_5.pdf create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle3.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle4.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle5.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.asm create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.asm create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad3.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad4.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad5.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle7.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/test.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista6/zad7.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/eval.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/wrap.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.cpp create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.ll create mode 100755 semestr-4/ask/lista8/._lista_8 create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/ask21_lista_8.tgz create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/bar.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/even.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/foo.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/lazy.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/main.lds create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-1.map create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-2.map create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-a.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-b.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/odd.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/relo3.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/start.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-a.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-b.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista8/swap.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/gadget.s create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/lazy.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/lista_9.tgz create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/relo3.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in (1).txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in.txt create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.map create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.c create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.s create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-05-machine-basics.pdf" create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-06-machine-control.pdf" create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-07-machine-procedures.pdf" create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/hackersdelight.pdf" create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x64_cheatsheet.pdf" create mode 100644 "semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x86-64-psABI-1.0.pdf" create mode 100644 semestr-4/ask/zadanie1/rozw.c (limited to 'semestr-4/ask') diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista0/Lista 0.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/Lista 0.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bffa5cb Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/Lista 0.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista0/ask21_lista_0.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/ask21_lista_0.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc9b182 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/ask21_lista_0.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista0/rozw.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/rozw.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c71940a --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista0/rozw.c @@ -0,0 +1,78 @@ +#include +#include + + +int main() { + /* Zad. 3 */ + + uint32_t x, k; + scanf("%d%d", &x, &k); + + x &= ~(1<>= y; // floor(x / 2^y) + x &= (1<> y; // ceil(x/2^y) = floor((x + 2^y - 1)/2^y) + + /* Zad. 5 */ + + scanf("%d", &x); + /* jesli x = 2^k, to x = 1000...0. Wtedy x - 1 = 0111...1, zatem x & (x - 1) == 0 + * gdy x jest potęgą dwójki. Łatwo widać, że jeśli x nie jest potęgą dwójki, + * to wiodący bit będzie ten sam, więc koniunkcja bitowa będzie niezerowa */ + printf("%d", (x & (x - 1))); + + /* Zad. 6 */ + + int rev = ((0xff000000 & x) >> 24u) | // można pominąć tę koniunkcję. + ((0xff0000 & x) >> 8u) | + ((0xff00 & x) << 8u) | + ((0xff & x) << 24u); + + /* Zad. 7 */ + + /* Kod sterujący - kod, który nie niesie informacji o znaku, ale niesie jakąś + * instrukcję sterującą dla urządzenia, np. do terminala. + * ASCII (American Standard Code for Information Interchange) - zestaw znaków, + * który stał się standardem w komunikacji elektronicznej. + * 0, NUL - znak nie niosący żadnej informacji. Może informować np. o końcu danych tekstowych + * 4, EOT (end of thread/end of transmission), ^D - informuje o końcu transmisji danych, + * które mogły zawierać więcej niż jeden tekst. + * 7, BEL (bell), ^G - instruuje urządzenie do wysłania dźwięku. + * 10, LF (line feed), \n - instruuje urządzenie do przejścia do nowej linii, + * ale nie do jej początku. Z tego względu jest często wiązany z CR (carriage return), + * który instruuje urządzenie do powrotu do początku wiersza. W systemach UNIX sam \n + * wystarczy. + * 12, FF (Form feed) - instruuje np. drukarki do przejścia do pierwszego wiersza + * następnej kartkii. + */ + + /* Zad. 8 */ + + /* UTF-8 (8-bit Unicode Transformation Format) - alternatywny zestaw znaków, + * w pełni kompatybilny z ASCII. Wykorzystuje od 1 do 4 bajtów do zakodowania + * pojedyńczego znaku. ASCII ma do dyspozycji jedynie 128 możliwych znaków, co + * zdecydowanie jest mniejsze niż potrzebna liczba znaków do zakodowania. + * Wykorzystanie 4 bajtów pozwala na gwałtowne zwiększenie tej liczby. + * + * Proszę zapłacić 5€! ę - U+0119 (0000 0001 0001 1001), spacja - U+0020, + * ł - U+0142 (0000 0001 0100 0010), € - U+20AC (0010 0000 1010 1100) + * 01010000 01110010 01101111 01110011 01111010 [1100 0100 1001 1001] + * 00100000 + * 01111010 01010001 01110000 [1100 0101 1000 0010] 01010001 01010011 01011001 [1100 0100 1000 0111] + * 00100000 + * 00110101 [1110 0010 1000 0010 1010 1100] 00100001 + */ + + return 0; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista1/ask21_lista_1.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/ask21_lista_1.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9afcd65 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/ask21_lista_1.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista1/rozw.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/rozw.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b4c208 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/rozw.c @@ -0,0 +1,217 @@ +#include +#include + + +static const int S[] = {1, 2, 4, 8, 16}; // Magic Binary Numbers +static const int B[] = {0x55555555, 0x33333333, 0x0F0F0F0F, 0x00FF00FF, 0x0000FFFF}; + +char* utb(uint32_t x) { + static char rep[36]; + int cnt = 34; + for (int i = 0; i < 32; i += 1) { + if (i > 0 && i % 8 == 0) { + rep[cnt] = ' '; + cnt -= 1; + } + rep[cnt] = (x & 1) + '0'; + cnt -= 1; + x >>= 1; + } + rep[35] = '\0'; + return rep; +} + +void pb(uint32_t x) { + printf("%s : %d\n", utb(x), x); +} + +struct A { + int8_t a; + void *b; + int8_t c; + int16_t d; +}; + +struct B { + void *c; + double b; + int16_t a; +}; + +struct C { + int8_t a; + int8_t c; + int16_t d; + void *b; +}; + +// zaklada count > 0 +void secret(uint8_t *to, uint8_t *from, size_t count) { + size_t n = (count + 7) / 8; + switch (count % 8) { + case 0: do { *to++ = *from++; + case 7: *to++ = *from++; + case 6: *to++ = *from++; + case 5: *to++ = *from++; + case 4: *to++ = *from++; + case 3: *to++ = *from++; + case 2: *to++ = *from++; + case 1: *to++ = *from++; + } while (--n > 0); + } +} + +// zaklada count > 0 +void goto_secret(uint8_t *to, uint8_t *from, size_t count) { + size_t n = (count + 7) / 8; + static void *array[] = { &&finito, &&c0, &&c1, &&c2, &&c3, &&c4, &&c5, &&c6, &&c7 }; + goto *array[count % 8 + 1]; + c0: *to++ = *from++; + c7: *to++ = *from++; + c6: *to++ = *from++; + c5: *to++ = *from++; + c4: *to++ = *from++; + c3: *to++ = *from++; + c2: *to++ = *from++; + c1: *to++ = *from++; + goto *array[(--n > 0)]; + finito: return; +} + +int main() { + /* Zadanie 1 */ + printf("Zadanie 1:\n"); + + uint32_t i = 7, k = 15, x = 15689126; + + pb(x); + uint32_t c = (((1<> i) << k; // 0010 0000 + x = (x & ~(1<> 1) & B[0]); pb(c); + c = ((c >> S[1]) & B[1]) + (c & B[1]); pb(c); + c = ((c >> S[2]) + c) & B[2]; pb(c); + c = ((c >> S[3]) + c) & B[3]; pb(c); + c = ((c >> S[4]) + c) & B[4]; pb(c); + printf("-----------------\n"); + // wersja dla koksow + v = v - ((v >> 1) & 0x55555555); pb(v);// reuse input as temporary + v = ((v >> 2) & 0x33333333) + (v & 0x33333333); pb(v); // temp + c = ((v + (v >> 4) & 0xF0F0F0F) * 0x1010101) >> 24; pb(c); // count + + + /* Zadanie 3 */ + printf("Zadanie 3:\n"); + + struct A a; + struct B b; + struct C d; + int8_t x1; + void *x2; + int16_t x3; + printf("%lu %lu %lu\n", sizeof x1, sizeof x2, sizeof x3); + printf("%lu %lu %lu\n", sizeof a, sizeof b, sizeof d); + + + /* Zadanie 4 */ + + + /* Zadanie 5 */ + + /* s += b[j + 1] + b[--j]; + * + * t1 := j + 1 + * t2 := t1 * 4 + * t3 := b[t2] + * j := j - 1 + * t4 := j * 4 + * t5 := b[t4] + * t6 := t4 + t5 // Czy na pewno tak? + * s := s + t6 + * + * a[i++] -= *b * (c[j*2] + 1); + * + * t1 := *b + * t2 := j * 2 + * t3 := t2 * 4 + * t4 := c[t3] + * t5 := t4 + 1 + * t6 := t1 * t5 + * a := a - t6 + * i := i + 1 + */ + + /* Zadanie 6 */ + /* vs->d = us[1].a + us[j].c; + * t1 := 1 * 12 + * t2 := us + t1 + * t2' := us + 0 // chcemy dostać się do a, ale jest na poczatku, wiec nic dodawac nie trzeba + * t3 := *t2 + * t4 := j * 12 + * t5 := us + t4 + * t6 := t5 + 8 + * t7 := *t6 + * t8 := t3 + t7 + * t9 := vs + 9 + * *t9 := t8 + */ + + /* Zadanie 7 */ + + /* I := 0 ; <> + goto ITest + ILoop: J := I ; <> + goto WTest + WLoop: t1 := 4 * J ; <> + Temp := arr[t1] ; arr[J] + t2 := J - 1 + t3 := 4 * t2 + t4 := arr[t3] ; arr[J - 1] + arr[t1] := t4 ; arr[J] := arr[J - 1] + arr[t3] := Temp ; arr[J - 1] := Temp + J := J - 1 + WTest: if J <= 0 goto IPlus ; <> + t4 := 4 * J ; <> + t5 := arr[t4] + t6 := J - 1 + t7 = 4 * t6 + t8 := arr[t7] + if t5 >= t8 goto IPlus + goto WLoop ; <> + IPlus: I := I + 1 ; <> + ITest: if I < length goto ILoop ; <> + */ + + + /* Zadanie 8 */ + printf("Zadanie 8:\n"); + + // secret kopiuje wartości na które wskazuje from do miejsca w które wskazuje to, + // przesuwa oba wskaźniki i powtarza tak count razy (czyli efektywnie kopiuje np. tablice) + + uint8_t t1[10] = {1,2,3,0,5,100,7,8,9,10}, t2[10]; + uint8_t* to = t2 + 2, *from = t1 + 3; + size_t count = 4; + + goto_secret(to, from, count); + + for (int i = 0; i < 10; i++) + printf("%hhd ", t1[i]); + printf("\n"); + for (int i = 0; i < 10; i++) + printf("%hhd ", t2[i]); + printf("\n"); + + i = 3; + t1[i++] = i; + printf("%hhd\n", t1[i-1]); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista1/test.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/test.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f3c11e --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/test.c @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +#include +#include + +int main() +{ + int x; + short y; + x = -10; + y = (short)x; + printf("%d %hd", x, y); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista1/zad7.txt b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/zad7.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e9c4b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista1/zad7.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ + I := 0 + goto ITest +ILoop: J := I + goto WTest +WLoop: t1 := 4 * J + Temp := arr[t1] + t2 := J - 1 + t3 := 4 * t2 + arr[t1] := arr[t3] + arr[t3] := Temp + J := J - 1 +WTest: if J <= 0 goto IPlus + t4 := 4 * J + t5 := arr[t4] + t6 := J - 1 + t7 = 4 * t6 + t8 := arr[t7] + if t5 >= t8 goto IPlus + goto WLoop +IPlus: I := I + 1 +ITest: if I < length goto ILoop \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista11/__pycache__/gen.cpython-38.pyc b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/__pycache__/gen.cpython-38.pyc new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e27b7a7 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/__pycache__/gen.cpython-38.pyc differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista11/gen.py b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/gen.py new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4de762 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/gen.py @@ -0,0 +1,65 @@ +def next_permutation(a): + """Generate the lexicographically next permutation inplace. + + https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Permutation#Generation_in_lexicographic_order + Return false if there is no next permutation. + """ + # Find the largest index i such that a[i] < a[i + 1]. If no such + # index exists, the permutation is the last permutation + for i in reversed(range(len(a) - 1)): + if a[i] < a[i + 1]: + break # found + else: # no break: not found + return False # no next permutation + + # Find the largest index j greater than i such that a[i] < a[j] + j = next(j for j in reversed(range(i + 1, len(a))) if a[i] < a[j]) + + # Swap the value of a[i] with that of a[j] + a[i], a[j] = a[j], a[i] + + # Reverse sequence from a[i + 1] up to and including the final element a[n] + a[i + 1:] = reversed(a[i + 1:]) + return True + +def perm_to_str(a): + return ''.join(map(str, a)) + +def str_to_perm(s): + return [int(c) for c in s] + +t = [0,1,2,3] +perm_to_idx = dict() + +def bbin(x): + return bin(x)[2:] + +cnt = 23 +while True: + perm_to_idx[perm_to_str(t)] = cnt + cnt -= 1 + if not next_permutation(t): + break + +for p in perm_to_idx.keys(): + for i in range(4): + t = str_to_perm(p) + for j in range(4): + if t[j] > t[i]: + t[j] -= 1 + t[i] = 3 + print(p, 'x', i, '->', perm_to_str(t), ':\t', bbin(perm_to_idx[p]), '\t', bbin(i), '\t', bbin(perm_to_idx[perm_to_str(t)]), end='\t') + print(perm_to_idx[p], '\t', i, '\t', perm_to_idx[perm_to_str(t)]) + +print('\n-----\n') + + +for p in perm_to_idx.keys(): + for i in range(4): + t = str_to_perm(p) + for j in range(4): + if t[j] > t[i]: + t[j] -= 1 + t[i] = 3 + print(p, 'x', i, '->', perm_to_str(t), ':\t', bbin(perm_to_idx[p]), '\t', bbin(i), '\t', bbin(perm_to_idx[perm_to_str(t)]), end='\t') + print(perm_to_idx[p], '\t', i, '\t', perm_to_idx[perm_to_str(t)]) diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista11/zad8.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/zad8.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd8c2bf --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista11/zad8.c @@ -0,0 +1,23 @@ +#include +#include + +uint8_t victim(uint8_t s) { + s |= ((s & 0x55) << 1) | (s & 0xaa >> 1); + return ((s >> 2) && 1) | ((s >> 4) && 2) | ((s >> 6) && 3); +} + +uint8_t update(uint8_t s, uint8_t v) { + int8_t p0 = victim(s); + int8_t p1 = victim(s ^ 0b01010101); + int8_t p2 = victim(s ^ 0b10101010); + int8_t p3 = victim(s ^ 0b11111111); + uint8_t age = (3 << (v << 1)) & s; + + s -= (~((char)(age - 1) >> 7)) & (1 << (p1 << 1)); + s -= (~((char)(age - 2) >> 7)) & (1 << (p2 << 1)); + s -= (~((char)(age - 3) >> 7)) & (1 << (p3 << 1)); + s |= (3 << (v << 1)); + return s; +} + +int main() {} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista12/rozw.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista12/rozw.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..84d66c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista12/rozw.c @@ -0,0 +1,71 @@ +#include + +/* Zadanie 1 */ + +void swap(long *xp, long *yp) { + *xp = *xp + *yp; /* x+y */ + *yp = *xp - *yp; /* x+y-y = x */ + *xp = *xp - *yp; /* x+y-x = y */ +} + +void swap2(long *xp, long *yp) { + long x = *xp, y = *yp; + x = x + y, y = x - y, x = x - y; + *xp = x, *yp = y; +} + +/* Zadanie 2 */ + +__attribute__((noinline)) +size_t my_strlen(const char *s) { + size_t i = 0; + while (*s++) + i++; + return i; +} + +const char *my_index(const char *s, char v) { + for (size_t i = 0; i < my_strlen(s); i++) + if (s[i] == v) + return &s[i]; + return 0; +} + +/* Zadanie 3 */ +void foobar(long a[], size_t n, long y, long z) { + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + long x = y - z; + long j = 7 * i; + a[i] = j + x * x; + } +} + +void foobar_decomp(long a[], size_t n, long y, long z) { + z -= y; + z *= z; + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + a[i] = z; + z += 7; + } +} + +/* Zadanie 4 */ + +long neigh(long a[], long n, long i, long j) { + long ul = a[(i-1)*n + (j-1)]; + long ur = a[(i-1)*n + (j+1)]; + long dl = a[(i+1)*n - (j-1)]; + long dr = a[(i+1)*n - (j+1)]; + return ul + ur + dl + dr; +} + +long neigh_better(long a[], long n, long i, long j) { + long idx = (i-1) * n + (j-1); + // n *= 2; + long ul = a[idx]; + long dl = a[idx + n*2]; + idx += 2; + long ur = a[idx]; + long dr = a[idx + n*2]; + return ul + dl + ur + dr; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/186422.cpp b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/186422.cpp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3df2e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/186422.cpp @@ -0,0 +1,47 @@ +#include +using namespace std; +const int SIZE=101000; +void imax(int &a, int b){ + a=max(a, b); +} +void imin(int &a, int b){ + a=min(a, b); +} +void lmax(long long &a, long long b){ + a=max(a, b); +} +void lmin(long long &a, long long b){ + a=min(a, b); +} +/* + WARNING: I'm using strange bracket style! +*/ +vector > out; +vector v[SIZE], s; +int n, q, x, y; +int main() + { + ios::sync_with_stdio(0); + cin.tie(0); + cout.tie(0); + cin>>n>>q; + while (q--) + cin>>x>>y, v[min(x, y)].push_back(max(x, y)); + v[1].push_back(n); + for (int i=1; i<=n; i++) + { + sort(v[i].begin(), v[i].end()); + reverse(v[i].begin(), v[i].end()); + while (!s.empty() && s.back()<=i) + s.pop_back(); + if (!s.empty() && s.back()>i+1) + if (v[i].size()==0 || s.back()!=v[i][0]) + out.push_back({s.back(), i}); + for (auto j: v[i]) + s.push_back(j); + } + cout< +#include +#include + +#define USESTRLEN 1 +size_t Strlen(const char *s); + +/* Some statistics */ +int wcnt = 0; /* Number of words */ +int ucnt = 0; /* Number of unique words */ +int mcnt = 0; /* Count of Most frequent word */ +int scnt = 0; /* Count of number of singletons */ +char *mstring = ""; /* Most frequent word */ +int llen = 0; /* Length of the longest word */ +char *lstring = ""; /* A longest string */ +int lcnt = 0; /* Number of words having maximum length */ + +/* Use function pointers to keep track of which options we are using */ +typedef void (*lower_fun_t)(char *s); + +/* Lower case conversion routines */ + +/* Convert string to lower case: slow */ +void lower1(char *s) { + int i; + + for (i = 0; i < Strlen(s); i++) + if (s[i] >= 'A' && s[i] <= 'Z') + s[i] -= ('A' - 'a'); +} + +/* Convert string to lower case: faster */ +void lower2(char *s) { + int i; + int len = Strlen(s); + + for (i = 0; i < len; i++) + if (s[i] >= 'A' && s[i] <= 'Z') + s[i] -= ('A' - 'a'); +} + +/* Set of lower case functions */ +#define LCNT 2 +lower_fun_t lower_fun_set[LCNT] = {lower1, lower2}; +char *lower_fun_names[LCNT] = {"lower1", "lower2"}; + +/* Implementation of library function strlen */ +/* Compute length of string */ +size_t Strlen(const char *s) { +#ifdef USESTRLEN + return strlen(s); +#else + int length = 0; + while (*s != '\0') { + s++; + length++; + } + return length; +#endif +} + +/* The hash table */ + +typedef struct HELE { + char *word; + int freq; + struct HELE *next; +} h_rec, *h_ptr; + +/* The hash table */ +h_ptr *htable; +int tsize; + +static void new_table(int size) { + tsize = size; + htable = (h_ptr *)calloc(size, sizeof(h_ptr)); + if (!htable) { + fprintf(stderr, "Couldn't allocate hash array, exiting\n"); + exit(1); + } +} + +static h_ptr new_ele(char *s) { + h_ptr result = (h_ptr)malloc(sizeof(h_rec)); + int wlen = Strlen(s); + if (wlen > llen) { + lstring = s; + llen = wlen; + lcnt = 1; + } else if (wlen == llen) + lcnt++; + if (!result) { + fprintf(stderr, "Couldn't allocate hash element, exiting\n"); + exit(1); + } + + result->word = s; + result->freq = 1; + result->next = NULL; + return result; +} + +/* Some hash functions */ + +/* Division hashing */ + +typedef unsigned (*hash_fun_t)(char *s); + +unsigned h_mod(char *s) { + unsigned val = 0; + int c; + while ((c = *s++)) + val = (val * 128 + c) % tsize; + return val; +} + +/* Simply add characters together */ +unsigned h_add(char *s) { + unsigned val = 0; + int c; + while ((c = *s++)) + val += c; + return val % tsize; +} + +/* Combine with Xors */ +unsigned h_xor(char *s) { + unsigned val = 0; + int c; + while ((c = *s++)) + val = ((val ^ c) << 4) | ((val >> 28) & 0xF); + return val % tsize; +} + +#define HCNT 3 +hash_fun_t hash_fun_set[HCNT] = {h_mod, h_add, h_xor}; +char *hash_fun_names[HCNT] = {"h_mod", "h_add", "h_xor"}; + +char *save_string(char *s) { + char *result = (char *)malloc(Strlen(s) + 1); + if (!result) { + fprintf(stderr, "Couldn't allocate space for string, exiting\n"); + exit(1); + } + strcpy(result, s); + return result; +} + +/* Recursively find string in list. Add to end if not found */ +h_ptr find_ele_rec(h_ptr ls, char *s) { + if (!ls) { + /* Come to end of list. Insert this one */ + ucnt++; + return new_ele(save_string(s)); + } + if (strcmp(s, ls->word) == 0) { + ls->freq++; + if (ls->freq > mcnt) { + mcnt = ls->freq; + mstring = ls->word; + } + return ls; + } + ls->next = find_ele_rec(ls->next, s); + return ls; +} + +/* Iteratively find string in list. Add to front if not found */ +h_ptr find_ele_iter_f(h_ptr ls, char *s) { + h_ptr ele = ls; + for (ele = ls; ele; ele = ele->next) { + char *word = ele->word; + if (strcmp(s, word) == 0) { + int freq = ++ele->freq; + if (freq > mcnt) { + mcnt = freq; + mstring = word; + } + return ls; + } + } + ele = new_ele(save_string(s)); + ucnt++; + ele->next = ls; + return ele; +} + +/* Iteratively find string in list. Add to end if not found */ +h_ptr find_ele_iter_r(h_ptr ls, char *s) { + h_ptr ele = ls; + h_ptr last = NULL; + for (ele = ls; ele; ele = ele->next) { + char *word = ele->word; + if (strcmp(s, word) == 0) { + int freq = ++ele->freq; + if (freq > mcnt) { + mcnt = freq; + mstring = word; + } + return ls; + } + last = ele; + } + ele = new_ele(save_string(s)); + ucnt++; + ele->next = NULL; + if (last) { + last->next = ele; + return ls; + } else + return ele; +} + +typedef h_ptr (*find_ele_fun_t)(h_ptr, char *); + +#define FCNT 3 +find_ele_fun_t find_ele_fun_set[FCNT] = {find_ele_rec, find_ele_iter_f, + find_ele_iter_r}; +char *find_ele_fun_names[FCNT] = {"find_ele_rec", "find_ele_iter_f", + "find_ele_iter_r"}; + +/* Comparision function for sorting */ +int compare_ele(const void *vele1, const void *vele2) { + h_ptr ele1 = *(h_ptr *)vele1; + h_ptr ele2 = *(h_ptr *)vele2; + return ele2->freq - ele1->freq; +} + +/* Sort hash table elements by frequency */ +h_ptr sort_words(int quick) { + h_ptr ls = NULL; + h_ptr ele; + h_ptr *array = calloc(ucnt, sizeof(h_ptr)); + int i, j; + int cnt = 0; + scnt = 0; /* Count singletons */ + for (i = 0; i < tsize; i++) + for (ele = htable[i]; ele; ele = ele->next) { + if (ele->freq == 1) + scnt++; + if (quick) + array[cnt] = ele; + else { + for (j = cnt; j > 0 && ele->freq > array[j - 1]->freq; j--) + array[j] = array[j - 1]; + array[j] = ele; + } + cnt++; + } + if (quick) { + qsort((void *)array, cnt, sizeof(h_ptr), compare_ele); + } + ls = array[0]; + for (j = 0; j < cnt - 1; j++) + array[j]->next = array[j + 1]; + array[cnt - 1]->next = NULL; + free((void *)array); + return ls; +} + +void insert_string(char *s, hash_fun_t hash_fun, lower_fun_t lower_fun, + find_ele_fun_t find_ele_fun) { + int index; + lower_fun(s); + index = hash_fun(s); + htable[index] = find_ele_fun(htable[index], s); +} + +/* Extract word from file */ +#define BSIZE 1024 +char buf[BSIZE]; +int bufvalid = 0; +FILE *infile; + +void init_token(FILE *in) { + bufvalid = 0; + infile = in; +} + +/* Added some non-ASCII characters encountered in European parliament corpus */ +static char *skipchar = " \t\n\r.,:;/<>()[]{}?!\"-'\0xc2\0xa0"; + +/* Keep getting tokens. Return NULL when no more */ +char *get_word() { + char *s = NULL; + while (1) { + if (bufvalid) { + s = strtok(NULL, skipchar); + if (s) + break; + } + if (!fgets(buf, BSIZE, infile)) + return NULL; + bufvalid = 1; + s = strtok(buf, skipchar); + if (s) + break; + } + wcnt++; + return s; +} + +#define MAXNG 10 + +char *get_token(int ngram) { + /* Buffer of last ngram-1 tokens */ + static char token_buf[MAXNG][BSIZE]; + static int first = 1; + static int bindex = 0; /* In which buffer to insert next token */ + static char sbuf[BSIZE]; + char *nextpos = sbuf; + int i; + int index; + + if (ngram == 1) + return get_word(); + if (first) { + /* Get ngram-1 tokens */ + while (bindex < ngram - 1) { + char *word = get_word(); + if (!word) { + return NULL; /* Document doesn't have enough tokens */ + } + strcpy(token_buf[bindex++], word); + } + first = 0; + } + /* Get new token */ + char *word = get_word(); + if (!word) { + return NULL; /* No more ngrams */ + } + strcpy(token_buf[bindex++], word); + if (bindex >= MAXNG) + bindex = 0; + /* Generate string of last ngram-1 tokens */ + index = bindex - ngram; + if (index < 0) + index += MAXNG; + for (i = 0; i < ngram; i++) { + if (i != 0) + *nextpos++ = ' '; + word = token_buf[index]; + strcpy(nextpos, word); + nextpos += Strlen(word); + index++; + if (index >= MAXNG) + index = 0; + } +#if 0 + printf("Next n-gram = '%s'\n", sbuf); +#endif + return sbuf; +} + +/* Find statistics of word frequency in document */ +void word_freq(FILE *src, int verbose, int ngram, int size, int quick, + hash_fun_t hash_fun, lower_fun_t lower_fun, + find_ele_fun_t find_ele_fun) { + char *s; + h_ptr ls; + + init_token(src); + new_table(size); + + while ((s = get_token(ngram))) { + insert_string(s, hash_fun, lower_fun, find_ele_fun); + } + if (verbose > 0) { + ls = sort_words(quick); + while (ls && verbose--) { + printf("%d\t'%s'\n", ls->freq, ls->word); + ls = ls->next; + } + } + printf("%d n-grams, %d unique, %d singletons. Most common (%d) = '%s'. " + "Longest (%d have length %d) = '%s'\n", + wcnt, ucnt, scnt, mcnt, mstring, lcnt, llen, lstring); +} + +int main(int argc, char *argv[]) { + int verbose = 1; + int size = 1024; + int hash_fun_index = 0; + int lower_fun_index = 0; + int find_fun_index = 0; + int ngram = 1; + int quick = 0; + char *fname = NULL; + FILE *infile = stdin; + add_int_option("verbose", &verbose); + add_int_option("size", &size); + add_int_option("hash", &hash_fun_index); + add_int_option("lower", &lower_fun_index); + add_int_option("find", &find_fun_index); + add_int_option("ngram", &ngram); + add_int_option("quicksort", &quick); + add_string_option("file", &fname); + parse_options(argc, argv, NULL); + show_options(stdout); + printf("N-gram size %d\n", ngram); + printf("Lower case function %s\n", lower_fun_names[lower_fun_index]); + printf("Hash function %s\n", hash_fun_names[hash_fun_index]); + printf("Find element function %s\n", find_ele_fun_names[find_fun_index]); + if ((unsigned)hash_fun_index >= HCNT) { + fprintf(stderr, "Invalid hash function index %d\n", hash_fun_index); + exit(1); + } + if ((unsigned)lower_fun_index >= LCNT) { + fprintf(stderr, "Invalid lower function index %d\n", lower_fun_index); + exit(1); + } + if ((unsigned)find_fun_index >= FCNT) { + fprintf(stderr, "Invalid find function index %d\n", find_fun_index); + exit(1); + } + if (fname) { + infile = fopen(fname, "r"); + if (!infile) { + fprintf(stderr, "Couldn't open file '%s'\n", fname); + exit(1); + } + } + word_freq(infile, verbose, ngram, size, quick, hash_fun_set[hash_fun_index], + lower_fun_set[lower_fun_index], find_ele_fun_set[find_fun_index]); + printf("Total time = %f seconds\n", (double)clock() / CLOCKS_PER_SEC); + fclose(infile); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/graph.png b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/graph.png new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8f336e Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/graph.png differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da62cde --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.c @@ -0,0 +1,212 @@ +/* + * Code to process options from command line arguments. + * Option values can be integers, + * floats, or strings. Allow prefix of option name, as long as + * unambiguous. Also support printing of usage information. + */ +#include "options.h" +#include +#include +#include + +typedef enum { INT_OPTION, DOUBLE_OPTION, STRING_OPTION } option_t; + +typedef struct { + char *name; + option_t type; + union { + int *i; + double *d; + char **s; + } valp; +} option_entry; + +#define MAX_OPTION 100 +static option_entry options[MAX_OPTION]; + +static int option_count = 0; + +/* Determine length of string match */ +static int match_length(char *s, char *t) { + int result = 0; + while (*s == *t) { + result++; + if (*s == '\0') + break; + s++; + t++; + } + return result; +} + +void usage(char *prog) { + int j; + fprintf(stderr, "Usage: %s", prog); + for (j = 0; j < option_count; j++) { + switch (options[j].type) { + case INT_OPTION: + fprintf(stderr, " [-%s (%d)]", options[j].name, *(options[j].valp.i)); + break; + case DOUBLE_OPTION: + fprintf(stderr, " [-%s (%.2f)]", options[j].name, *(options[j].valp.d)); + break; + case STRING_OPTION: + fprintf(stderr, " [-%s (%s)]", options[j].name, *(options[j].valp.s)); + break; + } + } + fprintf(stderr, "\n"); + exit(1); +} + +/* Determine which option is best match. */ +static int find_option(char *prog, char *name) { + int sofar = -1; + int sofar_length = 0; + int i; + int ambiguous = 0; + for (i = 0; i < option_count; i++) { + int length = match_length(options[i].name, name); + if (length > sofar_length) { + sofar = i; + sofar_length = length; + ambiguous = 0; + } else if (length > 0 && length == sofar_length) { + ambiguous = 1; + } + } + if (sofar_length == 0) { + fprintf(stderr, "No match found to option '%s'\n", name); + usage(prog); + } else if (ambiguous) { + fprintf(stderr, "Ambiguous option: '%s'\n", name); + usage(prog); + } + return sofar; +} + +void add_int_option(char *name, int *var) { + options[option_count].name = name; + options[option_count].type = INT_OPTION; + options[option_count].valp.i = var; + option_count++; +} + +void add_double_option(char *name, double *var) { + options[option_count].name = name; + options[option_count].type = DOUBLE_OPTION; + options[option_count].valp.d = var; + option_count++; +} + +void add_string_option(char *name, char **var) { + options[option_count].name = name; + options[option_count].type = STRING_OPTION; + options[option_count].valp.s = var; + option_count++; +} + +int parse_options(int argc, char *argv[], char *otherargs[]) { + int i, j; + int ocount = 0; + float f; + char *prog = argv[0]; + for (i = 1; i < argc; i++) { + /* Look for options */ + if (*argv[i] != '-') { + /* Must be another class of argument */ + if (otherargs) + otherargs[ocount] = argv[i]; + ocount++; + continue; + } + j = find_option(prog, argv[i] + 1); + i++; /* Move to next argument */ + if (i >= argc) { + fprintf(stderr, "Missing value for option %s\n", options[j].name); + usage(prog); + } + switch (options[j].type) { + case INT_OPTION: + if (sscanf(argv[i], "%d", options[j].valp.i) != 1) { + fprintf(stderr, "Can't parse argument '%s' as integer\n", argv[i]); + usage(prog); + } + break; + case DOUBLE_OPTION: + if (sscanf(argv[i], "%f", &f) != 1) { + fprintf(stderr, "Can't parse argument '%s' as double\n", argv[i]); + usage(prog); + } + *options[j].valp.d = f; + break; + case STRING_OPTION: + *(options[j].valp.s) = argv[i]; + break; + default: + fprintf(stderr, "Internal error. Don't know option type %d\n", + options[j].type); + exit(1); + } + } + return ocount; +} + +static char *strsave(char *s) { + char *result = (char *)malloc(strlen(s) + 1); + strcpy(result, s); + return result; +} + +void parse_option_file(char *prog, FILE *option_file) { + int j; + float f; + char name[50], val[50]; + while (fscanf(option_file, "%s %s", name, val) == 2) { + if (name[0] != '-') { + fprintf(stderr, "Need '-' before option '%s'\n", name); + usage(prog); + } + j = find_option(prog, name + 1); + switch (options[j].type) { + case INT_OPTION: + if (sscanf(val, "%d", options[j].valp.i) != 1) { + fprintf(stderr, "Can't parse argument '%s' as integer\n", val); + usage(prog); + } + break; + case DOUBLE_OPTION: + if (sscanf(val, "%f", &f) != 1) { + fprintf(stderr, "Can't parse argument '%s' as double\n", val); + usage(prog); + } + *options[j].valp.d = f; + break; + case STRING_OPTION: + *(options[j].valp.s) = strsave(val); + break; + default: + fprintf(stderr, "Internal error. Don't know option type %d\n", + options[j].type); + exit(1); + } + } +} + +void show_options(FILE *outfile) { + int i; + for (i = 0; i < option_count; i++) { + switch (options[i].type) { + case INT_OPTION: + fprintf(outfile, "%s\t%d\n", options[i].name, *(options[i].valp.i)); + break; + case DOUBLE_OPTION: + fprintf(outfile, "%s\t%f\n", options[i].name, *(options[i].valp.d)); + break; + case STRING_OPTION: + if (*options[i].valp.s) + fprintf(outfile, "%s\t%s\n", options[i].name, *(options[i].valp.s)); + break; + } + } +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.h b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.h new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e3878d --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/options.h @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +/* + * Code to process options from + * command line arguments. Arguments can be integers, + * floats, or strings. Allow prefix of argument name, as long as + * unambigous. Also support printing of usage information. + */ + +#include + +void add_int_option(char *name, int *var); +void add_double_option(char *name, double *var); +void add_string_option(char *name, char **var); + +/* Print usage information and exit */ +void usage(char *prog); + +/* + * Parse option from arguments. Print error message & exit if any problems + * If otherargs nonnull, fill it with any nonoption arguments. + * Return number of such arguments. + */ +int parse_options(int argc, char *argv[], char *otherargs[]); + +/* Parse options from file */ +void parse_option_file(char *prog, FILE *option_file); + +/* Show which options are in effect */ +void show_options(FILE *outfile); diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/shakespeare.txt b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/shakespeare.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c851f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/shakespeare.txt @@ -0,0 +1,172948 @@ + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING OF FRANCE (KING:) + +DUKE OF FLORENCE (DUKE:) + +BERTRAM Count of Rousillon. + +LAFEU an old lord. + +PAROLLES a follower of Bertram. + + +Steward | + | servants to the Countess of Rousillon. +Clown | + + + A Page. (Page:) + +COUNTESS OF +ROUSILLON mother to Bertram. (COUNTESS:) + +HELENA a gentlewoman protected by the Countess. + + An old Widow of Florence. (Widow:) + +DIANA daughter to the Widow. + + +VIOLENTA | + | neighbours and friends to the Widow. +MARIANA | + + + Lords, Officers, Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine. + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (Fourth Lord:) + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + (First Soldier:) + (Gentleman:) + + + +SCENE Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles. + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS of Rousillon, HELENA, + and LAFEU, all in black] + +COUNTESS In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. + +BERTRAM And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death + anew: but I must attend his majesty's command, to + whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. + +LAFEU You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, + sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times + good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose + worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather + than lack it where there is such abundance. + +COUNTESS What hope is there of his majesty's amendment? + +LAFEU He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose + practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and + finds no other advantage in the process but only the + losing of hope by time. + +COUNTESS This young gentlewoman had a father,--O, that + 'had'! how sad a passage 'tis!--whose skill was + almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so + far, would have made nature immortal, and death + should have play for lack of work. Would, for the + king's sake, he were living! I think it would be + the death of the king's disease. + +LAFEU How called you the man you speak of, madam? + +COUNTESS He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was + his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. + +LAFEU He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very + lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he + was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge + could be set up against mortality. + +BERTRAM What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of? + +LAFEU A fistula, my lord. + +BERTRAM I heard not of it before. + +LAFEU I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman + the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? + +COUNTESS His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my + overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that + her education promises; her dispositions she + inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where + an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there + commendations go with pity; they are virtues and + traitors too; in her they are the better for their + simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness. + +LAFEU Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. + +COUNTESS 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise + in. The remembrance of her father never approaches + her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all + livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; + go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect + a sorrow than have it. + +HELENA I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. + +LAFEU Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, + excessive grief the enemy to the living. + +COUNTESS If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess + makes it soon mortal. + +BERTRAM Madam, I desire your holy wishes. + +LAFEU How understand we that? + +COUNTESS Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father + In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue + Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness + Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, + Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy + Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend + Under thy own life's key: be cheque'd for silence, + But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, + That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, + Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord; + 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, + Advise him. + +LAFEU He cannot want the best + That shall attend his love. + +COUNTESS Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. + + [Exit] + +BERTRAM [To HELENA] The best wishes that can be forged in + your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable + to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. + +LAFEU Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of + your father. + + [Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU] + +HELENA O, were that all! I think not on my father; + And these great tears grace his remembrance more + Than those I shed for him. What was he like? + I have forgot him: my imagination + Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. + I am undone: there is no living, none, + If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one + That I should love a bright particular star + And think to wed it, he is so above me: + In his bright radiance and collateral light + Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. + The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: + The hind that would be mated by the lion + Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though plague, + To see him every hour; to sit and draw + His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, + In our heart's table; heart too capable + Of every line and trick of his sweet favour: + But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy + Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here? + + [Enter PAROLLES] + + [Aside] + + One that goes with him: I love him for his sake; + And yet I know him a notorious liar, + Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; + Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him, + That they take place, when virtue's steely bones + Look bleak i' the cold wind: withal, full oft we see + Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. + +PAROLLES Save you, fair queen! + +HELENA And you, monarch! + +PAROLLES No. + +HELENA And no. + +PAROLLES Are you meditating on virginity? + +HELENA Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me + ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how + may we barricado it against him? + +PAROLLES Keep him out. + +HELENA But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, + in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some + warlike resistance. + +PAROLLES There is none: man, sitting down before you, will + undermine you and blow you up. + +HELENA Bless our poor virginity from underminers and + blowers up! Is there no military policy, how + virgins might blow up men? + +PAROLLES Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be + blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with + the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It + is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to + preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational + increase and there was never virgin got till + virginity was first lost. That you were made of is + metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost + may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is + ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with 't! + +HELENA I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. + +PAROLLES There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the + rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, + is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible + disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin: + virginity murders itself and should be buried in + highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate + offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, + much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very + paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. + Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of + self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the + canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose + by't: out with 't! within ten year it will make + itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the + principal itself not much the worse: away with 't! + +HELENA How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? + +PAROLLES Let me see: marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it + likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with + lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with 't + while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request. + Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out + of fashion: richly suited, but unsuitable: just + like the brooch and the tooth-pick, which wear not + now. Your date is better in your pie and your + porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, + your old virginity, is like one of our French + withered pears, it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, + 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; + marry, yet 'tis a withered pear: will you anything with it? + +HELENA Not my virginity yet [ ] + There shall your master have a thousand loves, + A mother and a mistress and a friend, + A phoenix, captain and an enemy, + A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, + A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; + His humble ambition, proud humility, + His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, + His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world + Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms, + That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-- + I know not what he shall. God send him well! + The court's a learning place, and he is one-- + +PAROLLES What one, i' faith? + +HELENA That I wish well. 'Tis pity-- + +PAROLLES What's pity? + +HELENA That wishing well had not a body in't, + Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, + Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, + Might with effects of them follow our friends, + And show what we alone must think, which never + Return us thanks. + + [Enter Page] + +Page Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. + + [Exit] + +PAROLLES Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I + will think of thee at court. + +HELENA Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. + +PAROLLES Under Mars, I. + +HELENA I especially think, under Mars. + +PAROLLES Why under Mars? + +HELENA The wars have so kept you under that you must needs + be born under Mars. + +PAROLLES When he was predominant. + +HELENA When he was retrograde, I think, rather. + +PAROLLES Why think you so? + +HELENA You go so much backward when you fight. + +PAROLLES That's for advantage. + +HELENA So is running away, when fear proposes the safety; + but the composition that your valour and fear makes + in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. + +PAROLLES I am so full of businesses, I cannot answer thee + acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the + which, my instruction shall serve to naturalize + thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's + counsel and understand what advice shall thrust upon + thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and + thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When + thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast + none, remember thy friends; get thee a good husband, + and use him as he uses thee; so, farewell. + + [Exit] + +HELENA Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull + Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. + What power is it which mounts my love so high, + That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? + The mightiest space in fortune nature brings + To join like likes and kiss like native things. + Impossible be strange attempts to those + That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose + What hath been cannot be: who ever strove + So show her merit, that did miss her love? + The king's disease--my project may deceive me, + But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me. + + [Exit] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Paris. The KING's palace. + + + [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING of France, + with letters, and divers Attendants] + +KING The Florentines and Senoys are by the ears; + Have fought with equal fortune and continue + A braving war. + +First Lord So 'tis reported, sir. + +KING Nay, 'tis most credible; we here received it + A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, + With caution that the Florentine will move us + For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend + Prejudicates the business and would seem + To have us make denial. + +First Lord His love and wisdom, + Approved so to your majesty, may plead + For amplest credence. + +KING He hath arm'd our answer, + And Florence is denied before he comes: + Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see + The Tuscan service, freely have they leave + To stand on either part. + +Second Lord It well may serve + A nursery to our gentry, who are sick + For breathing and exploit. + +KING What's he comes here? + + [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] + +First Lord It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, + Young Bertram. + +KING Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; + Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, + Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral parts + Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. + +BERTRAM My thanks and duty are your majesty's. + +KING I would I had that corporal soundness now, + As when thy father and myself in friendship + First tried our soldiership! He did look far + Into the service of the time and was + Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long; + But on us both did haggish age steal on + And wore us out of act. It much repairs me + To talk of your good father. In his youth + He had the wit which I can well observe + To-day in our young lords; but they may jest + Till their own scorn return to them unnoted + Ere they can hide their levity in honour; + So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness + Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, + His equal had awaked them, and his honour, + Clock to itself, knew the true minute when + Exception bid him speak, and at this time + His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him + He used as creatures of another place + And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, + Making them proud of his humility, + In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man + Might be a copy to these younger times; + Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them now + But goers backward. + +BERTRAM His good remembrance, sir, + Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; + So in approof lives not his epitaph + As in your royal speech. + +KING Would I were with him! He would always say-- + Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words + He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them, + To grow there and to bear,--'Let me not live,'-- + This his good melancholy oft began, + On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, + When it was out,--'Let me not live,' quoth he, + 'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff + Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses + All but new things disdain; whose judgments are + Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies + Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd; + I after him do after him wish too, + Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, + I quickly were dissolved from my hive, + To give some labourers room. + +Second Lord You are loved, sir: + They that least lend it you shall lack you first. + +KING I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, count, + Since the physician at your father's died? + He was much famed. + +BERTRAM Some six months since, my lord. + +KING If he were living, I would try him yet. + Lend me an arm; the rest have worn me out + With several applications; nature and sickness + Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; + My son's no dearer. + +BERTRAM Thank your majesty. + + [Exeunt. Flourish] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown] + +COUNTESS I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? + +Steward Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I + wish might be found in the calendar of my past + endeavours; for then we wound our modesty and make + foul the clearness of our deservings, when of + ourselves we publish them. + +COUNTESS What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: + the complaints I have heard of you I do not all + believe: 'tis my slowness that I do not; for I know + you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability + enough to make such knaveries yours. + +Clown 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. + +COUNTESS Well, sir. + +Clown No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though + many of the rich are damned: but, if I may have + your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel + the woman and I will do as we may. + +COUNTESS Wilt thou needs be a beggar? + +Clown I do beg your good will in this case. + +COUNTESS In what case? + +Clown In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no + heritage: and I think I shall never have the + blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; for + they say barnes are blessings. + +COUNTESS Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. + +Clown My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on + by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. + +COUNTESS Is this all your worship's reason? + +Clown Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons such as they + are. + +COUNTESS May the world know them? + +Clown I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and + all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry + that I may repent. + +COUNTESS Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. + +Clown I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have + friends for my wife's sake. + +COUNTESS Such friends are thine enemies, knave. + +Clown You're shallow, madam, in great friends; for the + knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. + He that ears my land spares my team and gives me + leave to in the crop; if I be his cuckold, he's my + drudge: he that comforts my wife is the cherisher + of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh + and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my + flesh and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses + my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to + be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; + for young Charbon the Puritan and old Poysam the + Papist, howsome'er their hearts are severed in + religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl + horns together, like any deer i' the herd. + +COUNTESS Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouthed and calumnious knave? + +Clown A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next + way: + For I the ballad will repeat, + Which men full true shall find; + Your marriage comes by destiny, + Your cuckoo sings by kind. + +COUNTESS Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. + +Steward May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to + you: of her I am to speak. + +COUNTESS Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; + Helen, I mean. + +Clown Was this fair face the cause, quoth she, + Why the Grecians sacked Troy? + Fond done, done fond, + Was this King Priam's joy? + With that she sighed as she stood, + With that she sighed as she stood, + And gave this sentence then; + Among nine bad if one be good, + Among nine bad if one be good, + There's yet one good in ten. + +COUNTESS What, one good in ten? you corrupt the song, sirrah. + +Clown One good woman in ten, madam; which is a purifying + o' the song: would God would serve the world so all + the year! we'ld find no fault with the tithe-woman, + if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth a'! An we + might have a good woman born but one every blazing + star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery + well: a man may draw his heart out, ere a' pluck + one. + +COUNTESS You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. + +Clown That man should be at woman's command, and yet no + hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it + will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of + humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am + going, forsooth: the business is for Helen to come hither. + + [Exit] + +COUNTESS Well, now. + +Steward I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. + +COUNTESS Faith, I do: her father bequeathed her to me; and + she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully + make title to as much love as she finds: there is + more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid + her than she'll demand. + +Steward Madam, I was very late more near her than I think + she wished me: alone she was, and did communicate + to herself her own words to her own ears; she + thought, I dare vow for her, they touched not any + stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son: + Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put + such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no + god, that would not extend his might, only where + qualities were level; Dian no queen of virgins, that + would suffer her poor knight surprised, without + rescue in the first assault or ransom afterward. + This she delivered in the most bitter touch of + sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in: which I + held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; + sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns + you something to know it. + +COUNTESS You have discharged this honestly; keep it to + yourself: many likelihoods informed me of this + before, which hung so tottering in the balance that + I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you, + leave me: stall this in your bosom; and I thank you + for your honest care: I will speak with you further anon. + + [Exit Steward] + + [Enter HELENA] + + Even so it was with me when I was young: + If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn + Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; + Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; + It is the show and seal of nature's truth, + Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: + By our remembrances of days foregone, + Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. + Her eye is sick on't: I observe her now. + +HELENA What is your pleasure, madam? + +COUNTESS You know, Helen, + I am a mother to you. + +HELENA Mine honourable mistress. + +COUNTESS Nay, a mother: + Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,' + Methought you saw a serpent: what's in 'mother,' + That you start at it? I say, I am your mother; + And put you in the catalogue of those + That were enwombed mine: 'tis often seen + Adoption strives with nature and choice breeds + A native slip to us from foreign seeds: + You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, + Yet I express to you a mother's care: + God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood + To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, + That this distemper'd messenger of wet, + The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? + Why? that you are my daughter? + +HELENA That I am not. + +COUNTESS I say, I am your mother. + +HELENA Pardon, madam; + The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: + I am from humble, he from honour'd name; + No note upon my parents, his all noble: + My master, my dear lord he is; and I + His servant live, and will his vassal die: + He must not be my brother. + +COUNTESS Nor I your mother? + +HELENA You are my mother, madam; would you were,-- + So that my lord your son were not my brother,-- + Indeed my mother! or were you both our mothers, + I care no more for than I do for heaven, + So I were not his sister. Can't no other, + But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? + +COUNTESS Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law: + God shield you mean it not! daughter and mother + So strive upon your pulse. What, pale again? + My fear hath catch'd your fondness: now I see + The mystery of your loneliness, and find + Your salt tears' head: now to all sense 'tis gross + You love my son; invention is ashamed, + Against the proclamation of thy passion, + To say thou dost not: therefore tell me true; + But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look thy cheeks + Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes + See it so grossly shown in thy behaviors + That in their kind they speak it: only sin + And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, + That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? + If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; + If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee, + As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, + Tell me truly. + +HELENA Good madam, pardon me! + +COUNTESS Do you love my son? + +HELENA Your pardon, noble mistress! + +COUNTESS Love you my son? + +HELENA Do not you love him, madam? + +COUNTESS Go not about; my love hath in't a bond, + Whereof the world takes note: come, come, disclose + The state of your affection; for your passions + Have to the full appeach'd. + +HELENA Then, I confess, + Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, + That before you, and next unto high heaven, + I love your son. + My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love: + Be not offended; for it hurts not him + That he is loved of me: I follow him not + By any token of presumptuous suit; + Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; + Yet never know how that desert should be. + I know I love in vain, strive against hope; + Yet in this captious and intenible sieve + I still pour in the waters of my love + And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, + Religious in mine error, I adore + The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, + But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, + Let not your hate encounter with my love + For loving where you do: but if yourself, + Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, + Did ever in so true a flame of liking + Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian + Was both herself and love: O, then, give pity + To her, whose state is such that cannot choose + But lend and give where she is sure to lose; + That seeks not to find that her search implies, + But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! + +COUNTESS Had you not lately an intent,--speak truly,-- + To go to Paris? + +HELENA Madam, I had. + +COUNTESS Wherefore? tell true. + +HELENA I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. + You know my father left me some prescriptions + Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading + And manifest experience had collected + For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me + In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, + As notes whose faculties inclusive were + More than they were in note: amongst the rest, + There is a remedy, approved, set down, + To cure the desperate languishings whereof + The king is render'd lost. + +COUNTESS This was your motive + For Paris, was it? speak. + +HELENA My lord your son made me to think of this; + Else Paris and the medicine and the king + Had from the conversation of my thoughts + Haply been absent then. + +COUNTESS But think you, Helen, + If you should tender your supposed aid, + He would receive it? he and his physicians + Are of a mind; he, that they cannot help him, + They, that they cannot help: how shall they credit + A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, + Embowell'd of their doctrine, have left off + The danger to itself? + +HELENA There's something in't, + More than my father's skill, which was the greatest + Of his profession, that his good receipt + Shall for my legacy be sanctified + By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your honour + But give me leave to try success, I'ld venture + The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure + By such a day and hour. + +COUNTESS Dost thou believe't? + +HELENA Ay, madam, knowingly. + +COUNTESS Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, + Means and attendants and my loving greetings + To those of mine in court: I'll stay at home + And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: + Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, + What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Paris. The KING's palace. + + + [Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING, attended + with divers young Lords taking leave for the + Florentine war; BERTRAM, and PAROLLES] + +KING Farewell, young lords; these warlike principles + Do not throw from you: and you, my lords, farewell: + Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain, all + The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis received, + And is enough for both. + +First Lord 'Tis our hope, sir, + After well enter'd soldiers, to return + And find your grace in health. + +KING No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart + Will not confess he owes the malady + That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; + Whether I live or die, be you the sons + Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy,-- + Those bated that inherit but the fall + Of the last monarchy,--see that you come + Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when + The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, + That fame may cry you loud: I say, farewell. + +Second Lord Health, at your bidding, serve your majesty! + +KING Those girls of Italy, take heed of them: + They say, our French lack language to deny, + If they demand: beware of being captives, + Before you serve. + +Both Our hearts receive your warnings. + +KING Farewell. Come hither to me. + + [Exit, attended] + +First Lord O, my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! + +PAROLLES 'Tis not his fault, the spark. + +Second Lord O, 'tis brave wars! + +PAROLLES Most admirable: I have seen those wars. + +BERTRAM I am commanded here, and kept a coil with + 'Too young' and 'the next year' and ''tis too early.' + +PAROLLES An thy mind stand to't, boy, steal away bravely. + +BERTRAM I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, + Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, + Till honour be bought up and no sword worn + But one to dance with! By heaven, I'll steal away. + +First Lord There's honour in the theft. + +PAROLLES Commit it, count. + +Second Lord I am your accessary; and so, farewell. + +BERTRAM I grow to you, and our parting is a tortured body. + +First Lord Farewell, captain. + +Second Lord Sweet Monsieur Parolles! + +PAROLLES Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good + sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall + find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain + Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here + on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword + entrenched it: say to him, I live; and observe his + reports for me. + +First Lord We shall, noble captain. + + [Exeunt Lords] + +PAROLLES Mars dote on you for his novices! what will ye do? + +BERTRAM Stay: the king. + + [Re-enter KING. BERTRAM and PAROLLES retire] + +PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] Use a more spacious ceremony to the + noble lords; you have restrained yourself within the + list of too cold an adieu: be more expressive to + them: for they wear themselves in the cap of the + time, there do muster true gait, eat, speak, and + move under the influence of the most received star; + and though the devil lead the measure, such are to + be followed: after them, and take a more dilated farewell. + +BERTRAM And I will do so. + +PAROLLES Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. + + [Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES] + + [Enter LAFEU] + +LAFEU [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. + +KING I'll fee thee to stand up. + +LAFEU Then here's a man stands, that has brought his pardon. + I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy, + And that at my bidding you could so stand up. + +KING I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, + And ask'd thee mercy for't. + +LAFEU Good faith, across: but, my good lord 'tis thus; + Will you be cured of your infirmity? + +KING No. + +LAFEU O, will you eat no grapes, my royal fox? + Yes, but you will my noble grapes, an if + My royal fox could reach them: I have seen a medicine + That's able to breathe life into a stone, + Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary + With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch, + Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, + To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand, + And write to her a love-line. + +KING What 'her' is this? + +LAFEU Why, Doctor She: my lord, there's one arrived, + If you will see her: now, by my faith and honour, + If seriously I may convey my thoughts + In this my light deliverance, I have spoke + With one that, in her sex, her years, profession, + Wisdom and constancy, hath amazed me more + Than I dare blame my weakness: will you see her + For that is her demand, and know her business? + That done, laugh well at me. + +KING Now, good Lafeu, + Bring in the admiration; that we with thee + May spend our wonder too, or take off thine + By wondering how thou took'st it. + +LAFEU Nay, I'll fit you, + And not be all day neither. + + [Exit] + +KING Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. + + [Re-enter LAFEU, with HELENA] + +LAFEU Nay, come your ways. + +KING This haste hath wings indeed. + +LAFEU Nay, come your ways: + This is his majesty; say your mind to him: + A traitor you do look like; but such traitors + His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's uncle, + That dare leave two together; fare you well. + + [Exit] + +KING Now, fair one, does your business follow us? + +HELENA Ay, my good lord. + Gerard de Narbon was my father; + In what he did profess, well found. + +KING I knew him. + +HELENA The rather will I spare my praises towards him: + Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death + Many receipts he gave me: chiefly one. + Which, as the dearest issue of his practise, + And of his old experience the oily darling, + He bade me store up, as a triple eye, + Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have so; + And hearing your high majesty is touch'd + With that malignant cause wherein the honour + Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, + I come to tender it and my appliance + With all bound humbleness. + +KING We thank you, maiden; + But may not be so credulous of cure, + When our most learned doctors leave us and + The congregated college have concluded + That labouring art can never ransom nature + From her inaidible estate; I say we must not + So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, + To prostitute our past-cure malady + To empirics, or to dissever so + Our great self and our credit, to esteem + A senseless help when help past sense we deem. + +HELENA My duty then shall pay me for my pains: + I will no more enforce mine office on you. + Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts + A modest one, to bear me back a again. + +KING I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful: + Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give + As one near death to those that wish him live: + But what at full I know, thou know'st no part, + I knowing all my peril, thou no art. + +HELENA What I can do can do no hurt to try, + Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. + He that of greatest works is finisher + Oft does them by the weakest minister: + So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, + When judges have been babes; great floods have flown + From simple sources, and great seas have dried + When miracles have by the greatest been denied. + Oft expectation fails and most oft there + Where most it promises, and oft it hits + Where hope is coldest and despair most fits. + +KING I must not hear thee; fare thee well, kind maid; + Thy pains not used must by thyself be paid: + Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. + +HELENA Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd: + It is not so with Him that all things knows + As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; + But most it is presumption in us when + The help of heaven we count the act of men. + Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; + Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. + I am not an impostor that proclaim + Myself against the level of mine aim; + But know I think and think I know most sure + My art is not past power nor you past cure. + +KING Are thou so confident? within what space + Hopest thou my cure? + +HELENA The great'st grace lending grace + Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring + Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, + Ere twice in murk and occidental damp + Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, + Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass + Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, + What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, + Health shall live free and sickness freely die. + +KING Upon thy certainty and confidence + What darest thou venture? + +HELENA Tax of impudence, + A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame + Traduced by odious ballads: my maiden's name + Sear'd otherwise; nay, worse--if worse--extended + With vilest torture let my life be ended. + +KING Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak + His powerful sound within an organ weak: + And what impossibility would slay + In common sense, sense saves another way. + Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate + Worth name of life in thee hath estimate, + Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all + That happiness and prime can happy call: + Thou this to hazard needs must intimate + Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. + Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, + That ministers thine own death if I die. + +HELENA If I break time, or flinch in property + Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die, + And well deserved: not helping, death's my fee; + But, if I help, what do you promise me? + +KING Make thy demand. + +HELENA But will you make it even? + +KING Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. + +HELENA Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand + What husband in thy power I will command: + Exempted be from me the arrogance + To choose from forth the royal blood of France, + My low and humble name to propagate + With any branch or image of thy state; + But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know + Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. + +KING Here is my hand; the premises observed, + Thy will by my performance shall be served: + So make the choice of thy own time, for I, + Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. + More should I question thee, and more I must, + Though more to know could not be more to trust, + From whence thou camest, how tended on: but rest + Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. + Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed + As high as word, my deed shall match thy meed. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] + +COUNTESS Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of + your breeding. + +Clown I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught: I + know my business is but to the court. + +COUNTESS To the court! why, what place make you special, + when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court! + +Clown Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he + may easily put it off at court: he that cannot make + a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand and say nothing, + has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed + such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the + court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all + men. + +COUNTESS Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all + questions. + +Clown It is like a barber's chair that fits all buttocks, + the pin-buttock, the quatch-buttock, the brawn + buttock, or any buttock. + +COUNTESS Will your answer serve fit to all questions? + +Clown As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, + as your French crown for your taffeta punk, as Tib's + rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove + Tuesday, a morris for May-day, as the nail to his + hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding queen + to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the + friar's mouth, nay, as the pudding to his skin. + +COUNTESS Have you, I say, an answer of such fitness for all + questions? + +Clown From below your duke to beneath your constable, it + will fit any question. + +COUNTESS It must be an answer of most monstrous size that + must fit all demands. + +Clown But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned + should speak truth of it: here it is, and all that + belongs to't. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall + do you no harm to learn. + +COUNTESS To be young again, if we could: I will be a fool in + question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I + pray you, sir, are you a courtier? + +Clown O Lord, sir! There's a simple putting off. More, + more, a hundred of them. + +COUNTESS Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. + +Clown O Lord, sir! Thick, thick, spare not me. + +COUNTESS I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. + +Clown O Lord, sir! Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. + +COUNTESS You were lately whipped, sir, as I think. + +Clown O Lord, sir! spare not me. + +COUNTESS Do you cry, 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and + 'spare not me?' Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very + sequent to your whipping: you would answer very well + to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. + +Clown I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, + sir!' I see things may serve long, but not serve ever. + +COUNTESS I play the noble housewife with the time + To entertain't so merrily with a fool. + +Clown O Lord, sir! why, there't serves well again. + +COUNTESS An end, sir; to your business. Give Helen this, + And urge her to a present answer back: + Commend me to my kinsmen and my son: + This is not much. + +Clown Not much commendation to them. + +COUNTESS Not much employment for you: you understand me? + +Clown Most fruitfully: I am there before my legs. + +COUNTESS Haste you again. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Paris. The KING's palace. + + + [Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES] + +LAFEU They say miracles are past; and we have our + philosophical persons, to make modern and familiar, + things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that + we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves + into seeming knowledge, when we should submit + ourselves to an unknown fear. + +PAROLLES Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath + shot out in our latter times. + +BERTRAM And so 'tis. + +LAFEU To be relinquish'd of the artists,-- + +PAROLLES So I say. + +LAFEU Both of Galen and Paracelsus. + +PAROLLES So I say. + +LAFEU Of all the learned and authentic fellows,-- + +PAROLLES Right; so I say. + +LAFEU That gave him out incurable,-- + +PAROLLES Why, there 'tis; so say I too. + +LAFEU Not to be helped,-- + +PAROLLES Right; as 'twere, a man assured of a-- + +LAFEU Uncertain life, and sure death. + +PAROLLES Just, you say well; so would I have said. + +LAFEU I may truly say, it is a novelty to the world. + +PAROLLES It is, indeed: if you will have it in showing, you + shall read it in--what do you call there? + +LAFEU A showing of a heavenly effect in an earthly actor. + +PAROLLES That's it; I would have said the very same. + +LAFEU Why, your dolphin is not lustier: 'fore me, + I speak in respect-- + +PAROLLES Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange, that is the + brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most + facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the-- + +LAFEU Very hand of heaven. + +PAROLLES Ay, so I say. + +LAFEU In a most weak-- + + [pausing] + + and debile minister, great power, great + transcendence: which should, indeed, give us a + further use to be made than alone the recovery of + the king, as to be-- + + [pausing] + + generally thankful. + +PAROLLES I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the king. + + [Enter KING, HELENA, and Attendants. LAFEU and + PAROLLES retire] + +LAFEU Lustig, as the Dutchman says: I'll like a maid the + better, whilst I have a tooth in my head: why, he's + able to lead her a coranto. + +PAROLLES Mort du vinaigre! is not this Helen? + +LAFEU 'Fore God, I think so. + +KING Go, call before me all the lords in court. + Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; + And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense + Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receive + The confirmation of my promised gift, + Which but attends thy naming. + + [Enter three or four Lords] + + Fair maid, send forth thine eye: this youthful parcel + Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, + O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice + I have to use: thy frank election make; + Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. + +HELENA To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress + Fall, when Love please! marry, to each, but one! + +LAFEU I'ld give bay Curtal and his furniture, + My mouth no more were broken than these boys', + And writ as little beard. + +KING Peruse them well: + Not one of those but had a noble father. + +HELENA Gentlemen, + Heaven hath through me restored the king to health. + +All We understand it, and thank heaven for you. + +HELENA I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest, + That I protest I simply am a maid. + Please it your majesty, I have done already: + The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me, + 'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, + Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever; + We'll ne'er come there again.' + +KING Make choice; and, see, + Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. + +HELENA Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, + And to imperial Love, that god most high, + Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? + +First Lord And grant it. + +HELENA Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. + +LAFEU I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace + for my life. + +HELENA The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, + Before I speak, too threateningly replies: + Love make your fortunes twenty times above + Her that so wishes and her humble love! + +Second Lord No better, if you please. + +HELENA My wish receive, + Which great Love grant! and so, I take my leave. + +LAFEU Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine, + I'd have them whipped; or I would send them to the + Turk, to make eunuchs of. + +HELENA Be not afraid that I your hand should take; + I'll never do you wrong for your own sake: + Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed + Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! + +LAFEU These boys are boys of ice, they'll none have her: + sure, they are bastards to the English; the French + ne'er got 'em. + +HELENA You are too young, too happy, and too good, + To make yourself a son out of my blood. + +Fourth Lord Fair one, I think not so. + +LAFEU There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk + wine: but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth + of fourteen; I have known thee already. + +HELENA [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give + Me and my service, ever whilst I live, + Into your guiding power. This is the man. + +KING Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. + +BERTRAM My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your highness, + In such a business give me leave to use + The help of mine own eyes. + +KING Know'st thou not, Bertram, + What she has done for me? + +BERTRAM Yes, my good lord; + But never hope to know why I should marry her. + +KING Thou know'st she has raised me from my sickly bed. + +BERTRAM But follows it, my lord, to bring me down + Must answer for your raising? I know her well: + She had her breeding at my father's charge. + A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain + Rather corrupt me ever! + +KING 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which + I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, + Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, + Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off + In differences so mighty. If she be + All that is virtuous, save what thou dislikest, + A poor physician's daughter, thou dislikest + Of virtue for the name: but do not so: + From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, + The place is dignified by the doer's deed: + Where great additions swell's, and virtue none, + It is a dropsied honour. Good alone + Is good without a name. Vileness is so: + The property by what it is should go, + Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; + In these to nature she's immediate heir, + And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, + Which challenges itself as honour's born + And is not like the sire: honours thrive, + When rather from our acts we them derive + Than our foregoers: the mere word's a slave + Debosh'd on every tomb, on every grave + A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb + Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb + Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? + If thou canst like this creature as a maid, + I can create the rest: virtue and she + Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. + +BERTRAM I cannot love her, nor will strive to do't. + +KING Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. + +HELENA That you are well restored, my lord, I'm glad: + Let the rest go. + +KING My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, + I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, + Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift; + That dost in vile misprision shackle up + My love and her desert; that canst not dream, + We, poising us in her defective scale, + Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know, + It is in us to plant thine honour where + We please to have it grow. Cheque thy contempt: + Obey our will, which travails in thy good: + Believe not thy disdain, but presently + Do thine own fortunes that obedient right + Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; + Or I will throw thee from my care for ever + Into the staggers and the careless lapse + Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate + Loosing upon thee, in the name of justice, + Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer. + +BERTRAM Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit + My fancy to your eyes: when I consider + What great creation and what dole of honour + Flies where you bid it, I find that she, which late + Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now + The praised of the king; who, so ennobled, + Is as 'twere born so. + +KING Take her by the hand, + And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise + A counterpoise, if not to thy estate + A balance more replete. + +BERTRAM I take her hand. + +KING Good fortune and the favour of the king + Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony + Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, + And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast + Shall more attend upon the coming space, + Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her, + Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. + + [Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES] + +LAFEU [Advancing] Do you hear, monsieur? a word with you. + +PAROLLES Your pleasure, sir? + +LAFEU Your lord and master did well to make his + recantation. + +PAROLLES Recantation! My lord! my master! + +LAFEU Ay; is it not a language I speak? + +PAROLLES A most harsh one, and not to be understood without + bloody succeeding. My master! + +LAFEU Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? + +PAROLLES To any count, to all counts, to what is man. + +LAFEU To what is count's man: count's master is of + another style. + +PAROLLES You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. + +LAFEU I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which + title age cannot bring thee. + +PAROLLES What I dare too well do, I dare not do. + +LAFEU I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty + wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy + travel; it might pass: yet the scarfs and the + bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from + believing thee a vessel of too great a burthen. I + have now found thee; when I lose thee again, I care + not: yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and + that thou't scarce worth. + +PAROLLES Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee,-- + +LAFEU Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou + hasten thy trial; which if--Lord have mercy on thee + for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee + well: thy casement I need not open, for I look + through thee. Give me thy hand. + +PAROLLES My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. + +LAFEU Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. + +PAROLLES I have not, my lord, deserved it. + +LAFEU Yes, good faith, every dram of it; and I will not + bate thee a scruple. + +PAROLLES Well, I shall be wiser. + +LAFEU Even as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at + a smack o' the contrary. If ever thou be'st bound + in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is + to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold + my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, + that I may say in the default, he is a man I know. + +PAROLLES My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. + +LAFEU I would it were hell-pains for thy sake, and my poor + doing eternal: for doing I am past: as I will by + thee, in what motion age will give me leave. + + [Exit] + +PAROLLES Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off + me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must + be patient; there is no fettering of authority. + I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with + any convenience, an he were double and double a + lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I + would of--I'll beat him, an if I could but meet him again. + + [Re-enter LAFEU] + +LAFEU Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news + for you: you have a new mistress. + +PAROLLES I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make + some reservation of your wrongs: he is my good + lord: whom I serve above is my master. + +LAFEU Who? God? + +PAROLLES Ay, sir. + +LAFEU The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou + garter up thy arms o' this fashion? dost make hose of + sleeves? do other servants so? Thou wert best set + thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine + honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'ld beat + thee: methinks, thou art a general offence, and + every man should beat thee: I think thou wast + created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. + +PAROLLES This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. + +LAFEU Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a + kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond and + no true traveller: you are more saucy with lords + and honourable personages than the commission of your + birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not + worth another word, else I'ld call you knave. I leave you. + + [Exit] + +PAROLLES Good, very good; it is so then: good, very good; + let it be concealed awhile. + + [Re-enter BERTRAM] + +BERTRAM Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! + +PAROLLES What's the matter, sweet-heart? + +BERTRAM Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, + I will not bed her. + +PAROLLES What, what, sweet-heart? + +BERTRAM O my Parolles, they have married me! + I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. + +PAROLLES France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits + The tread of a man's foot: to the wars! + +BERTRAM There's letters from my mother: what the import is, + I know not yet. + +PAROLLES Ay, that would be known. To the wars, my boy, to the wars! + He wears his honour in a box unseen, + That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, + Spending his manly marrow in her arms, + Which should sustain the bound and high curvet + Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions + France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; + Therefore, to the war! + +BERTRAM It shall be so: I'll send her to my house, + Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, + And wherefore I am fled; write to the king + That which I durst not speak; his present gift + Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, + Where noble fellows strike: war is no strife + To the dark house and the detested wife. + +PAROLLES Will this capriccio hold in thee? art sure? + +BERTRAM Go with me to my chamber, and advise me. + I'll send her straight away: to-morrow + I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. + +PAROLLES Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: + A young man married is a man that's marr'd: + Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go: + The king has done you wrong: but, hush, 'tis so. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Paris. The KING's palace. + + + [Enter HELENA and Clown] + +HELENA My mother greets me kindly; is she well? + +Clown She is not well; but yet she has her health: she's + very merry; but yet she is not well: but thanks be + given, she's very well and wants nothing i', the + world; but yet she is not well. + +HELENA If she be very well, what does she ail, that she's + not very well? + +Clown Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. + +HELENA What two things? + +Clown One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her + quickly! the other that she's in earth, from whence + God send her quickly! + + [Enter PAROLLES] + +PAROLLES Bless you, my fortunate lady! + +HELENA I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own + good fortunes. + +PAROLLES You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them + on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady? + +Clown So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, + I would she did as you say. + +PAROLLES Why, I say nothing. + +Clown Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's + tongue shakes out his master's undoing: to say + nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have + nothing, is to be a great part of your title; which + is within a very little of nothing. + +PAROLLES Away! thou'rt a knave. + +Clown You should have said, sir, before a knave thou'rt a + knave; that's, before me thou'rt a knave: this had + been truth, sir. + +PAROLLES Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. + +Clown Did you find me in yourself, sir? or were you + taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; + and much fool may you find in you, even to the + world's pleasure and the increase of laughter. + +PAROLLES A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. + Madam, my lord will go away to-night; + A very serious business calls on him. + The great prerogative and rite of love, + Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; + But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; + Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, + Which they distil now in the curbed time, + To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy + And pleasure drown the brim. + +HELENA What's his will else? + +PAROLLES That you will take your instant leave o' the king + And make this haste as your own good proceeding, + Strengthen'd with what apology you think + May make it probable need. + +HELENA What more commands he? + +PAROLLES That, having this obtain'd, you presently + Attend his further pleasure. + +HELENA In every thing I wait upon his will. + +PAROLLES I shall report it so. + +HELENA I pray you. + + [Exit PAROLLES] + + Come, sirrah. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Paris. The KING's palace. + + + [Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM] + +LAFEU But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. + +BERTRAM Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. + +LAFEU You have it from his own deliverance. + +BERTRAM And by other warranted testimony. + +LAFEU Then my dial goes not true: I took this lark for a bunting. + +BERTRAM I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in + knowledge and accordingly valiant. + +LAFEU I have then sinned against his experience and + transgressed against his valour; and my state that + way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my + heart to repent. Here he comes: I pray you, make + us friends; I will pursue the amity. + + [Enter PAROLLES] + +PAROLLES [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir. + +LAFEU Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? + +PAROLLES Sir? + +LAFEU O, I know him well, I, sir; he, sir, 's a good + workman, a very good tailor. + +BERTRAM [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the king? + +PAROLLES She is. + +BERTRAM Will she away to-night? + +PAROLLES As you'll have her. + +BERTRAM I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, + Given order for our horses; and to-night, + When I should take possession of the bride, + End ere I do begin. + +LAFEU A good traveller is something at the latter end of a + dinner; but one that lies three thirds and uses a + known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should + be once heard and thrice beaten. God save you, captain. + +BERTRAM Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? + +PAROLLES I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's + displeasure. + +LAFEU You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs + and all, like him that leaped into the custard; and + out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer + question for your residence. + +BERTRAM It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. + +LAFEU And shall do so ever, though I took him at 's + prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this + of me, there can be no kernel in this light nut; the + soul of this man is his clothes. Trust him not in + matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them + tame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur: + I have spoken better of you than you have or will to + deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. + + [Exit] + +PAROLLES An idle lord. I swear. + +BERTRAM I think so. + +PAROLLES Why, do you not know him? + +BERTRAM Yes, I do know him well, and common speech + Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. + + [Enter HELENA] + +HELENA I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, + Spoke with the king and have procured his leave + For present parting; only he desires + Some private speech with you. + +BERTRAM I shall obey his will. + You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, + Which holds not colour with the time, nor does + The ministration and required office + On my particular. Prepared I was not + For such a business; therefore am I found + So much unsettled: this drives me to entreat you + That presently you take our way for home; + And rather muse than ask why I entreat you, + For my respects are better than they seem + And my appointments have in them a need + Greater than shows itself at the first view + To you that know them not. This to my mother: + + [Giving a letter] + + 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you, so + I leave you to your wisdom. + +HELENA Sir, I can nothing say, + But that I am your most obedient servant. + +BERTRAM Come, come, no more of that. + +HELENA And ever shall + With true observance seek to eke out that + Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd + To equal my great fortune. + +BERTRAM Let that go: + My haste is very great: farewell; hie home. + +HELENA Pray, sir, your pardon. + +BERTRAM Well, what would you say? + +HELENA I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, + Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; + But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal + What law does vouch mine own. + +BERTRAM What would you have? + +HELENA Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed. + I would not tell you what I would, my lord: + Faith yes; + Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kiss. + +BERTRAM I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. + +HELENA I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. + +BERTRAM Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell. + + [Exit HELENA] + + Go thou toward home; where I will never come + Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. + Away, and for our flight. + +PAROLLES Bravely, coragio! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Florence. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence attended; + the two Frenchmen, with a troop of soldiers. + +DUKE So that from point to point now have you heard + The fundamental reasons of this war, + Whose great decision hath much blood let forth + And more thirsts after. + +First Lord Holy seems the quarrel + Upon your grace's part; black and fearful + On the opposer. + +DUKE Therefore we marvel much our cousin France + Would in so just a business shut his bosom + Against our borrowing prayers. + +Second Lord Good my lord, + The reasons of our state I cannot yield, + But like a common and an outward man, + That the great figure of a council frames + By self-unable motion: therefore dare not + Say what I think of it, since I have found + Myself in my incertain grounds to fail + As often as I guess'd. + +DUKE Be it his pleasure. + +First Lord But I am sure the younger of our nature, + That surfeit on their ease, will day by day + Come here for physic. + +DUKE Welcome shall they be; + And all the honours that can fly from us + Shall on them settle. You know your places well; + When better fall, for your avails they fell: + To-morrow to the field. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter COUNTESS and Clown] + +COUNTESS It hath happened all as I would have had it, save + that he comes not along with her. + +Clown By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very + melancholy man. + +COUNTESS By what observance, I pray you? + +Clown Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the + ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his + teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of + melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. + +COUNTESS Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. + + [Opening a letter] + +Clown I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court: our + old ling and our Isbels o' the country are nothing + like your old ling and your Isbels o' the court: + the brains of my Cupid's knocked out, and I begin to + love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. + +COUNTESS What have we here? + +Clown E'en that you have there. + + [Exit] + +COUNTESS [Reads] I have sent you a daughter-in-law: she hath + recovered the king, and undone me. I have wedded + her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the 'not' + eternal. You shall hear I am run away: know it + before the report come. If there be breadth enough + in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty + to you. Your unfortunate son, + BERTRAM. + This is not well, rash and unbridled boy. + To fly the favours of so good a king; + To pluck his indignation on thy head + By the misprising of a maid too virtuous + For the contempt of empire. + + [Re-enter Clown] + +Clown O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two + soldiers and my young lady! + +COUNTESS What is the matter? + +Clown Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some + comfort; your son will not be killed so soon as I + thought he would. + +COUNTESS Why should he be killed? + +Clown So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does: + the danger is in standing to't; that's the loss of + men, though it be the getting of children. Here + they come will tell you more: for my part, I only + hear your son was run away. + + [Exit] + + [Enter HELENA, and two Gentlemen] + +First Gentleman Save you, good madam. + +HELENA Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. + +Second Gentleman Do not say so. + +COUNTESS Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen, + I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief, + That the first face of neither, on the start, + Can woman me unto't: where is my son, I pray you? + +Second Gentleman Madam, he's gone to serve the duke of Florence: + We met him thitherward; for thence we came, + And, after some dispatch in hand at court, + Thither we bend again. + +HELENA Look on his letter, madam; here's my passport. + + [Reads] + + When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which + never shall come off, and show me a child begotten + of thy body that I am father to, then call me + husband: but in such a 'then' I write a 'never.' + This is a dreadful sentence. + +COUNTESS Brought you this letter, gentlemen? + +First Gentleman Ay, madam; + And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pain. + +COUNTESS I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; + If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, + Thou robb'st me of a moiety: he was my son; + But I do wash his name out of my blood, + And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? + +Second Gentleman Ay, madam. + +COUNTESS And to be a soldier? + +Second Gentleman Such is his noble purpose; and believe 't, + The duke will lay upon him all the honour + That good convenience claims. + +COUNTESS Return you thither? + +First Gentleman Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. + +HELENA [Reads] Till I have no wife I have nothing in France. + 'Tis bitter. + +COUNTESS Find you that there? + +HELENA Ay, madam. + +First Gentleman 'Tis but the boldness of his hand, haply, which his + heart was not consenting to. + +COUNTESS Nothing in France, until he have no wife! + There's nothing here that is too good for him + But only she; and she deserves a lord + That twenty such rude boys might tend upon + And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? + +First Gentleman A servant only, and a gentleman + Which I have sometime known. + +COUNTESS Parolles, was it not? + +First Gentleman Ay, my good lady, he. + +COUNTESS A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. + My son corrupts a well-derived nature + With his inducement. + +First Gentleman Indeed, good lady, + The fellow has a deal of that too much, + Which holds him much to have. + +COUNTESS You're welcome, gentlemen. + I will entreat you, when you see my son, + To tell him that his sword can never win + The honour that he loses: more I'll entreat you + Written to bear along. + +Second Gentleman We serve you, madam, + In that and all your worthiest affairs. + +COUNTESS Not so, but as we change our courtesies. + Will you draw near! + + [Exeunt COUNTESS and Gentlemen] + +HELENA 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' + Nothing in France, until he has no wife! + Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France; + Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't I + That chase thee from thy country and expose + Those tender limbs of thine to the event + Of the none-sparing war? and is it I + That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou + Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark + Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, + That ride upon the violent speed of fire, + Fly with false aim; move the still-peering air, + That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. + Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; + Whoever charges on his forward breast, + I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; + And, though I kill him not, I am the cause + His death was so effected: better 'twere + I met the ravin lion when he roar'd + With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere + That all the miseries which nature owes + Were mine at once. No, come thou home, Rousillon, + Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, + As oft it loses all: I will be gone; + My being here it is that holds thee hence: + Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although + The air of paradise did fan the house + And angels officed all: I will be gone, + That pitiful rumour may report my flight, + To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day! + For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. + + [Exit] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Florence. Before the DUKE's palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter the DUKE of Florence, BERTRAM, + PAROLLES, Soldiers, Drum, and Trumpets] + +DUKE The general of our horse thou art; and we, + Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence + Upon thy promising fortune. + +BERTRAM Sir, it is + A charge too heavy for my strength, but yet + We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake + To the extreme edge of hazard. + +DUKE Then go thou forth; + And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, + As thy auspicious mistress! + +BERTRAM This very day, + Great Mars, I put myself into thy file: + Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove + A lover of thy drum, hater of love. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter COUNTESS and Steward] + +COUNTESS Alas! and would you take the letter of her? + Might you not know she would do as she has done, + By sending me a letter? Read it again. + +Steward [Reads] + + I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone: + Ambitious love hath so in me offended, + That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, + With sainted vow my faults to have amended. + Write, write, that from the bloody course of war + My dearest master, your dear son, may hie: + Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far + His name with zealous fervor sanctify: + His taken labours bid him me forgive; + I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth + From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, + Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth: + He is too good and fair for death and me: + Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. + +COUNTESS Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! + Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much, + As letting her pass so: had I spoke with her, + I could have well diverted her intents, + Which thus she hath prevented. + +Steward Pardon me, madam: + If I had given you this at over-night, + She might have been o'erta'en; and yet she writes, + Pursuit would be but vain. + +COUNTESS What angel shall + Bless this unworthy husband? he cannot thrive, + Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear + And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath + Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, + To this unworthy husband of his wife; + Let every word weigh heavy of her worth + That he does weigh too light: my greatest grief. + Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. + Dispatch the most convenient messenger: + When haply he shall hear that she is gone, + He will return; and hope I may that she, + Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, + Led hither by pure love: which of them both + Is dearest to me. I have no skill in sense + To make distinction: provide this messenger: + My heart is heavy and mine age is weak; + Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Florence. Without the walls. A tucket afar off. + + + [Enter an old Widow of Florence, DIANA, VIOLENTA, + and MARIANA, with other Citizens] + +Widow Nay, come; for if they do approach the city, we + shall lose all the sight. + +DIANA They say the French count has done most honourable service. + +Widow It is reported that he has taken their greatest + commander; and that with his own hand he slew the + duke's brother. + + [Tucket] + + We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary + way: hark! you may know by their trumpets. + +MARIANA Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with + the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this + French earl: the honour of a maid is her name; and + no legacy is so rich as honesty. + +Widow I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited + by a gentleman his companion. + +MARIANA I know that knave; hang him! one Parolles: a + filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the + young earl. Beware of them, Diana; their promises, + enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of + lust, are not the things they go under: many a maid + hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, + example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of + maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, + but that they are limed with the twigs that threaten + them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but + I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, + though there were no further danger known but the + modesty which is so lost. + +DIANA You shall not need to fear me. + +Widow I hope so. + + [Enter HELENA, disguised like a Pilgrim] + + Look, here comes a pilgrim: I know she will lie at + my house; thither they send one another: I'll + question her. God save you, pilgrim! whither are you bound? + +HELENA To Saint Jaques le Grand. + Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? + +Widow At the Saint Francis here beside the port. + +HELENA Is this the way? + +Widow Ay, marry, is't. + + [A march afar] + + Hark you! they come this way. + If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, + But till the troops come by, + I will conduct you where you shall be lodged; + The rather, for I think I know your hostess + As ample as myself. + +HELENA Is it yourself? + +Widow If you shall please so, pilgrim. + +HELENA I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. + +Widow You came, I think, from France? + +HELENA I did so. + +Widow Here you shall see a countryman of yours + That has done worthy service. + +HELENA His name, I pray you. + +DIANA The Count Rousillon: know you such a one? + +HELENA But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him: + His face I know not. + +DIANA Whatsome'er he is, + He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, + As 'tis reported, for the king had married him + Against his liking: think you it is so? + +HELENA Ay, surely, mere the truth: I know his lady. + +DIANA There is a gentleman that serves the count + Reports but coarsely of her. + +HELENA What's his name? + +DIANA Monsieur Parolles. + +HELENA O, I believe with him, + In argument of praise, or to the worth + Of the great count himself, she is too mean + To have her name repeated: all her deserving + Is a reserved honesty, and that + I have not heard examined. + +DIANA Alas, poor lady! + 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife + Of a detesting lord. + +Widow I warrant, good creature, wheresoe'er she is, + Her heart weighs sadly: this young maid might do her + A shrewd turn, if she pleased. + +HELENA How do you mean? + May be the amorous count solicits her + In the unlawful purpose. + +Widow He does indeed; + And brokes with all that can in such a suit + Corrupt the tender honour of a maid: + But she is arm'd for him and keeps her guard + In honestest defence. + +MARIANA The gods forbid else! + +Widow So, now they come: + + [Drum and Colours] + + [Enter BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole army] + + That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son; + That, Escalus. + +HELENA Which is the Frenchman? + +DIANA He; + That with the plume: 'tis a most gallant fellow. + I would he loved his wife: if he were honester + He were much goodlier: is't not a handsome gentleman? + +HELENA I like him well. + +DIANA 'Tis pity he is not honest: yond's that same knave + That leads him to these places: were I his lady, + I would Poison that vile rascal. + +HELENA Which is he? + +DIANA That jack-an-apes with scarfs: why is he melancholy? + +HELENA Perchance he's hurt i' the battle. + +PAROLLES Lose our drum! well. + +MARIANA He's shrewdly vexed at something: look, he has spied us. + +Widow Marry, hang you! + +MARIANA And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! + + [Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and army] + +Widow The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you + Where you shall host: of enjoin'd penitents + There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, + Already at my house. + +HELENA I humbly thank you: + Please it this matron and this gentle maid + To eat with us to-night, the charge and thanking + Shall be for me; and, to requite you further, + I will bestow some precepts of this virgin + Worthy the note. + +BOTH We'll take your offer kindly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI Camp before Florence. + + + [Enter BERTRAM and the two French Lords] + +Second Lord Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his + way. + +First Lord If your lordship find him not a hilding, hold me no + more in your respect. + +Second Lord On my life, my lord, a bubble. + +BERTRAM Do you think I am so far deceived in him? + +Second Lord Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, + without any malice, but to speak of him as my + kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and + endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner + of no one good quality worthy your lordship's + entertainment. + +First Lord It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in + his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some + great and trusty business in a main danger fail you. + +BERTRAM I would I knew in what particular action to try him. + +First Lord None better than to let him fetch off his drum, + which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. + +Second Lord I, with a troop of Florentines, will suddenly + surprise him; such I will have, whom I am sure he + knows not from the enemy: we will bind and hoodwink + him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he + is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries, when + we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship + present at his examination: if he do not, for the + promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of + base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the + intelligence in his power against you, and that with + the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never + trust my judgment in any thing. + +First Lord O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; + he says he has a stratagem for't: when your + lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to + what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be + melted, if you give him not John Drum's + entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. + Here he comes. + + [Enter PAROLLES] + +Second Lord [Aside to BERTRAM] O, for the love of laughter, + hinder not the honour of his design: let him fetch + off his drum in any hand. + +BERTRAM How now, monsieur! this drum sticks sorely in your + disposition. + +First Lord A pox on't, let it go; 'tis but a drum. + +PAROLLES 'But a drum'! is't 'but a drum'? A drum so lost! + There was excellent command,--to charge in with our + horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! + +First Lord That was not to be blamed in the command of the + service: it was a disaster of war that Caesar + himself could not have prevented, if he had been + there to command. + +BERTRAM Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success: some + dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is + not to be recovered. + +PAROLLES It might have been recovered. + +BERTRAM It might; but it is not now. + +PAROLLES It is to be recovered: but that the merit of + service is seldom attributed to the true and exact + performer, I would have that drum or another, or + 'hic jacet.' + +BERTRAM Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur: if you + think your mystery in stratagem can bring this + instrument of honour again into his native quarter, + be magnanimous in the enterprise and go on; I will + grace the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you + speed well in it, the duke shall both speak of it. + and extend to you what further becomes his + greatness, even to the utmost syllable of your + worthiness. + +PAROLLES By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. + +BERTRAM But you must not now slumber in it. + +PAROLLES I'll about it this evening: and I will presently + pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my + certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; + and by midnight look to hear further from me. + +BERTRAM May I be bold to acquaint his grace you are gone about it? + +PAROLLES I know not what the success will be, my lord; but + the attempt I vow. + +BERTRAM I know thou'rt valiant; and, to the possibility of + thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. + +PAROLLES I love not many words. + + [Exit] + +Second Lord No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a + strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems + to undertake this business, which he knows is not to + be done; damns himself to do and dares better be + damned than to do't? + +First Lord You do not know him, my lord, as we do: certain it + is that he will steal himself into a man's favour and + for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but + when you find him out, you have him ever after. + +BERTRAM Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of + this that so seriously he does address himself unto? + +Second Lord None in the world; but return with an invention and + clap upon you two or three probable lies: but we + have almost embossed him; you shall see his fall + to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect. + +First Lord We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case + him. He was first smoked by the old lord Lafeu: + when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a + sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this + very night. + +Second Lord I must go look my twigs: he shall be caught. + +BERTRAM Your brother he shall go along with me. + +Second Lord As't please your lordship: I'll leave you. + + [Exit] + +BERTRAM Now will I lead you to the house, and show you + The lass I spoke of. + +First Lord But you say she's honest. + +BERTRAM That's all the fault: I spoke with her but once + And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, + By this same coxcomb that we have i' the wind, + Tokens and letters which she did re-send; + And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature: + Will you go see her? + +First Lord With all my heart, my lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII Florence. The Widow's house. + + + [Enter HELENA and Widow] + +HELENA If you misdoubt me that I am not she, + I know not how I shall assure you further, + But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. + +Widow Though my estate be fallen, I was well born, + Nothing acquainted with these businesses; + And would not put my reputation now + In any staining act. + +HELENA Nor would I wish you. + First, give me trust, the count he is my husband, + And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken + Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, + By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, + Err in bestowing it. + +Widow I should believe you: + For you have show'd me that which well approves + You're great in fortune. + +HELENA Take this purse of gold, + And let me buy your friendly help thus far, + Which I will over-pay and pay again + When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter, + Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, + Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent, + As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. + Now his important blood will nought deny + That she'll demand: a ring the county wears, + That downward hath succeeded in his house + From son to son, some four or five descents + Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds + In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire, + To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, + Howe'er repented after. + +Widow Now I see + The bottom of your purpose. + +HELENA You see it lawful, then: it is no more, + But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, + Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; + In fine, delivers me to fill the time, + Herself most chastely absent: after this, + To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns + To what is passed already. + +Widow I have yielded: + Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, + That time and place with this deceit so lawful + May prove coherent. Every night he comes + With musics of all sorts and songs composed + To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us + To chide him from our eaves; for he persists + As if his life lay on't. + +HELENA Why then to-night + Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, + Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed + And lawful meaning in a lawful act, + Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: + But let's about it. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Without the Florentine camp. + + + [Enter Second French Lord, with five or six other + Soldiers in ambush] + +Second Lord He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. + When you sally upon him, speak what terrible + language you will: though you understand it not + yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to + understand him, unless some one among us whom we + must produce for an interpreter. + +First Soldier Good captain, let me be the interpreter. + +Second Lord Art not acquainted with him? knows he not thy voice? + +First Soldier No, sir, I warrant you. + +Second Lord But what linsey-woolsey hast thou to speak to us again? + +First Soldier E'en such as you speak to me. + +Second Lord He must think us some band of strangers i' the + adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of + all neighbouring languages; therefore we must every + one be a man of his own fancy, not to know what we + speak one to another; so we seem to know, is to + know straight our purpose: choughs' language, + gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, + interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, + ho! here he comes, to beguile two hours in a sleep, + and then to return and swear the lies he forges. + + [Enter PAROLLES] + +PAROLLES Ten o'clock: within these three hours 'twill be + time enough to go home. What shall I say I have + done? It must be a very plausive invention that + carries it: they begin to smoke me; and disgraces + have of late knocked too often at my door. I find + my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the + fear of Mars before it and of his creatures, not + daring the reports of my tongue. + +Second Lord This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue + was guilty of. + +PAROLLES What the devil should move me to undertake the + recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the + impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I + must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in + exploit: yet slight ones will not carry it; they + will say, 'Came you off with so little?' and great + ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the + instance? Tongue, I must put you into a + butter-woman's mouth and buy myself another of + Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. + +Second Lord Is it possible he should know what he is, and be + that he is? + +PAROLLES I would the cutting of my garments would serve the + turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. + +Second Lord We cannot afford you so. + +PAROLLES Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in + stratagem. + +Second Lord 'Twould not do. + +PAROLLES Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripped. + +Second Lord Hardly serve. + +PAROLLES Though I swore I leaped from the window of the citadel. + +Second Lord How deep? + +PAROLLES Thirty fathom. + +Second Lord Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. + +PAROLLES I would I had any drum of the enemy's: I would swear + I recovered it. + +Second Lord You shall hear one anon. + +PAROLLES A drum now of the enemy's,-- + + [Alarum within] + +Second Lord Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. + +All Cargo, cargo, cargo, villiando par corbo, cargo. + +PAROLLES O, ransom, ransom! do not hide mine eyes. + + [They seize and blindfold him] + +First Soldier Boskos thromuldo boskos. + +PAROLLES I know you are the Muskos' regiment: + And I shall lose my life for want of language; + If there be here German, or Dane, low Dutch, + Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll + Discover that which shall undo the Florentine. + +First Soldier Boskos vauvado: I understand thee, and can speak + thy tongue. Kerely bonto, sir, betake thee to thy + faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. + +PAROLLES O! + +First Soldier O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche. + +Second Lord Oscorbidulchos volivorco. + +First Soldier The general is content to spare thee yet; + And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on + To gather from thee: haply thou mayst inform + Something to save thy life. + +PAROLLES O, let me live! + And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, + Their force, their purposes; nay, I'll speak that + Which you will wonder at. + +First Soldier But wilt thou faithfully? + +PAROLLES If I do not, damn me. + +First Soldier Acordo linta. + Come on; thou art granted space. + + [Exit, with PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within] + +Second Lord Go, tell the Count Rousillon, and my brother, + We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled + Till we do hear from them. + +Second Soldier Captain, I will. + +Second Lord A' will betray us all unto ourselves: + Inform on that. + +Second Soldier So I will, sir. + +Second Lord Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Florence. The Widow's house. + + + [Enter BERTRAM and DIANA] + +BERTRAM They told me that your name was Fontibell. + +DIANA No, my good lord, Diana. + +BERTRAM Titled goddess; + And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, + In your fine frame hath love no quality? + If quick fire of youth light not your mind, + You are no maiden, but a monument: + When you are dead, you should be such a one + As you are now, for you are cold and stem; + And now you should be as your mother was + When your sweet self was got. + +DIANA She then was honest. + +BERTRAM So should you be. + +DIANA No: + My mother did but duty; such, my lord, + As you owe to your wife. + +BERTRAM No more o' that; + I prithee, do not strive against my vows: + I was compell'd to her; but I love thee + By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever + Do thee all rights of service. + +DIANA Ay, so you serve us + Till we serve you; but when you have our roses, + You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves + And mock us with our bareness. + +BERTRAM How have I sworn! + +DIANA 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, + But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. + What is not holy, that we swear not by, + But take the High'st to witness: then, pray you, tell me, + If I should swear by God's great attributes, + I loved you dearly, would you believe my oaths, + When I did love you ill? This has no holding, + To swear by him whom I protest to love, + That I will work against him: therefore your oaths + Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd, + At least in my opinion. + +BERTRAM Change it, change it; + Be not so holy-cruel: love is holy; + And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts + That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, + But give thyself unto my sick desires, + Who then recover: say thou art mine, and ever + My love as it begins shall so persever. + +DIANA I see that men make ropes in such a scarre + That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. + +BERTRAM I'll lend it thee, my dear; but have no power + To give it from me. + +DIANA Will you not, my lord? + +BERTRAM It is an honour 'longing to our house, + Bequeathed down from many ancestors; + Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world + In me to lose. + +DIANA Mine honour's such a ring: + My chastity's the jewel of our house, + Bequeathed down from many ancestors; + Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world + In me to lose: thus your own proper wisdom + Brings in the champion Honour on my part, + Against your vain assault. + +BERTRAM Here, take my ring: + My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, + And I'll be bid by thee. + +DIANA When midnight comes, knock at my chamber-window: + I'll order take my mother shall not hear. + Now will I charge you in the band of truth, + When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, + Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: + My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them + When back again this ring shall be deliver'd: + And on your finger in the night I'll put + Another ring, that what in time proceeds + May token to the future our past deeds. + Adieu, till then; then, fail not. You have won + A wife of me, though there my hope be done. + +BERTRAM A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. + + [Exit] + +DIANA For which live long to thank both heaven and me! + You may so in the end. + My mother told me just how he would woo, + As if she sat in 's heart; she says all men + Have the like oaths: he had sworn to marry me + When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him + When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, + Marry that will, I live and die a maid: + Only in this disguise I think't no sin + To cozen him that would unjustly win. + + [Exit] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The Florentine camp. + + + [Enter the two French Lords and some two or three Soldiers] + +First Lord You have not given him his mother's letter? + +Second Lord I have delivered it an hour since: there is + something in't that stings his nature; for on the + reading it he changed almost into another man. + +First Lord He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking + off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. + +Second Lord Especially he hath incurred the everlasting + displeasure of the king, who had even tuned his + bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a + thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. + +First Lord When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the + grave of it. + +Second Lord He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in + Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he + fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour: he hath + given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself + made in the unchaste composition. + +First Lord Now, God delay our rebellion! as we are ourselves, + what things are we! + +Second Lord Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course + of all treasons, we still see them reveal + themselves, till they attain to their abhorred ends, + so he that in this action contrives against his own + nobility, in his proper stream o'erflows himself. + +First Lord Is it not meant damnable in us, to be trumpeters of + our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his + company to-night? + +Second Lord Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. + +First Lord That approaches apace; I would gladly have him see + his company anatomized, that he might take a measure + of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had + set this counterfeit. + +Second Lord We will not meddle with him till he come; for his + presence must be the whip of the other. + +First Lord In the mean time, what hear you of these wars? + +Second Lord I hear there is an overture of peace. + +First Lord Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. + +Second Lord What will Count Rousillon do then? will he travel + higher, or return again into France? + +First Lord I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether + of his council. + +Second Lord Let it be forbid, sir; so should I be a great deal + of his act. + +First Lord Sir, his wife some two months since fled from his + house: her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques + le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere + sanctimony she accomplished; and, there residing the + tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her + grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and + now she sings in heaven. + +Second Lord How is this justified? + +First Lord The stronger part of it by her own letters, which + makes her story true, even to the point of her + death: her death itself, which could not be her + office to say is come, was faithfully confirmed by + the rector of the place. + +Second Lord Hath the count all this intelligence? + +First Lord Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from + point, so to the full arming of the verity. + +Second Lord I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. + +First Lord How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! + +Second Lord And how mightily some other times we drown our gain + in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath + here acquired for him shall at home be encountered + with a shame as ample. + +First Lord The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and + ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our + faults whipped them not; and our crimes would + despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + How now! where's your master? + +Servant He met the duke in the street, sir, of whom he hath + taken a solemn leave: his lordship will next + morning for France. The duke hath offered him + letters of commendations to the king. + +Second Lord They shall be no more than needful there, if they + were more than they can commend. + +First Lord They cannot be too sweet for the king's tartness. + Here's his lordship now. + + [Enter BERTRAM] + + How now, my lord! is't not after midnight? + +BERTRAM I have to-night dispatched sixteen businesses, a + month's length a-piece, by an abstract of success: + I have congied with the duke, done my adieu with his + nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my + lady mother I am returning; entertained my convoy; + and between these main parcels of dispatch effected + many nicer needs; the last was the greatest, but + that I have not ended yet. + +Second Lord If the business be of any difficulty, and this + morning your departure hence, it requires haste of + your lordship. + +BERTRAM I mean, the business is not ended, as fearing to + hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this + dialogue between the fool and the soldier? Come, + bring forth this counterfeit module, he has deceived + me, like a double-meaning prophesier. + +Second Lord Bring him forth: has sat i' the stocks all night, + poor gallant knave. + +BERTRAM No matter: his heels have deserved it, in usurping + his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? + +Second Lord I have told your lordship already, the stocks carry + him. But to answer you as you would be understood; + he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk: he + hath confessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes + to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to + this very instant disaster of his setting i' the + stocks: and what think you he hath confessed? + +BERTRAM Nothing of me, has a'? + +Second Lord His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his + face: if your lordship be in't, as I believe you + are, you must have the patience to hear it. + + [Enter PAROLLES guarded, and First Soldier] + +BERTRAM A plague upon him! muffled! he can say nothing of + me: hush, hush! + +First Lord Hoodman comes! Portotartarosa + +First Soldier He calls for the tortures: what will you say + without 'em? + +PAROLLES I will confess what I know without constraint: if + ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. + +First Soldier Bosko chimurcho. + +First Lord Boblibindo chicurmurco. + +First Soldier You are a merciful general. Our general bids you + answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. + +PAROLLES And truly, as I hope to live. + +First Soldier [Reads] 'First demand of him how many horse the + duke is strong.' What say you to that? + +PAROLLES Five or six thousand; but very weak and + unserviceable: the troops are all scattered, and + the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation + and credit and as I hope to live. + +First Soldier Shall I set down your answer so? + +PAROLLES Do: I'll take the sacrament on't, how and which way you will. + +BERTRAM All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! + +First Lord You're deceived, my lord: this is Monsieur + Parolles, the gallant militarist,--that was his own + phrase,--that had the whole theoric of war in the + knot of his scarf, and the practise in the chape of + his dagger. + +Second Lord I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword + clean. nor believe he can have every thing in him + by wearing his apparel neatly. + +First Soldier Well, that's set down. + +PAROLLES Five or six thousand horse, I said,-- I will say + true,--or thereabouts, set down, for I'll speak truth. + +First Lord He's very near the truth in this. + +BERTRAM But I con him no thanks for't, in the nature he + delivers it. + +PAROLLES Poor rogues, I pray you, say. + +First Soldier Well, that's set down. + +PAROLLES I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a truth, the + rogues are marvellous poor. + +First Soldier [Reads] 'Demand of him, of what strength they are + a-foot.' What say you to that? + +PAROLLES By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present + hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a + hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so + many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, + and Gratii, two hundred and fifty each; mine own + company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred and + fifty each: so that the muster-file, rotten and + sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand + poll; half of the which dare not shake snow from off + their cassocks, lest they shake themselves to pieces. + +BERTRAM What shall be done to him? + +First Lord Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my + condition, and what credit I have with the duke. + +First Soldier Well, that's set down. + + [Reads] + + 'You shall demand of him, whether one Captain Dumain + be i' the camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is + with the duke; what his valour, honesty, and + expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not + possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to + corrupt him to revolt.' What say you to this? what + do you know of it? + +PAROLLES I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of + the inter'gatories: demand them singly. + +First Soldier Do you know this Captain Dumain? + +PAROLLES I know him: a' was a botcher's 'prentice in Paris, + from whence he was whipped for getting the shrieve's + fool with child,--a dumb innocent, that could not + say him nay. + +BERTRAM Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know + his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. + +First Soldier Well, is this captain in the duke of Florence's camp? + +PAROLLES Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. + +First Lord Nay look not so upon me; we shall hear of your + lordship anon. + +First Soldier What is his reputation with the duke? + +PAROLLES The duke knows him for no other but a poor officer + of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him + out o' the band: I think I have his letter in my pocket. + +First Soldier Marry, we'll search. + +PAROLLES In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there, + or it is upon a file with the duke's other letters + in my tent. + +First Soldier Here 'tis; here's a paper: shall I read it to you? + +PAROLLES I do not know if it be it or no. + +BERTRAM Our interpreter does it well. + +First Lord Excellently. + +First Soldier [Reads] 'Dian, the count's a fool, and full of gold,'-- + +PAROLLES That is not the duke's letter, sir; that is an + advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one + Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count + Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very + ruttish: I pray you, sir, put it up again. + +First Soldier Nay, I'll read it first, by your favour. + +PAROLLES My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the + behalf of the maid; for I knew the young count to be + a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to + virginity and devours up all the fry it finds. + +BERTRAM Damnable both-sides rogue! + +First Soldier [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; + After he scores, he never pays the score: + Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; + He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before; + And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this, + Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss: + For count of this, the count's a fool, I know it, + Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. + Thine, as he vowed to thee in thine ear, + PAROLLES.' + +BERTRAM He shall be whipped through the army with this rhyme + in's forehead. + +Second Lord This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold + linguist and the armipotent soldier. + +BERTRAM I could endure any thing before but a cat, and now + he's a cat to me. + +First Soldier I perceive, sir, by the general's looks, we shall be + fain to hang you. + +PAROLLES My life, sir, in any case: not that I am afraid to + die; but that, my offences being many, I would + repent out the remainder of nature: let me live, + sir, in a dungeon, i' the stocks, or any where, so I may live. + +First Soldier We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; + therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you + have answered to his reputation with the duke and to + his valour: what is his honesty? + +PAROLLES He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister: for + rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus: he + professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he + is stronger than Hercules: he will lie, sir, with + such volubility, that you would think truth were a + fool: drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will + be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little + harm, save to his bed-clothes about him; but they + know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but + little more to say, sir, of his honesty: he has + every thing that an honest man should not have; what + an honest man should have, he has nothing. + +First Lord I begin to love him for this. + +BERTRAM For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon + him for me, he's more and more a cat. + +First Soldier What say you to his expertness in war? + +PAROLLES Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English + tragedians; to belie him, I will not, and more of + his soldiership I know not; except, in that country + he had the honour to be the officer at a place there + called Mile-end, to instruct for the doubling of + files: I would do the man what honour I can, but of + this I am not certain. + +First Lord He hath out-villained villany so far, that the + rarity redeems him. + +BERTRAM A pox on him, he's a cat still. + +First Soldier His qualities being at this poor price, I need not + to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. + +PAROLLES Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee-simple + of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut the + entail from all remainders, and a perpetual + succession for it perpetually. + +First Soldier What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? + +Second Lord Why does be ask him of me? + +First Soldier What's he? + +PAROLLES E'en a crow o' the same nest; not altogether so + great as the first in goodness, but greater a great + deal in evil: he excels his brother for a coward, + yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is: + in a retreat he outruns any lackey; marry, in coming + on he has the cramp. + +First Soldier If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray + the Florentine? + +PAROLLES Ay, and the captain of his horse, Count Rousillon. + +First Soldier I'll whisper with the general, and know his pleasure. + +PAROLLES [Aside] I'll no more drumming; a plague of all + drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to + beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy + the count, have I run into this danger. Yet who + would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? + +First Soldier There is no remedy, sir, but you must die: the + general says, you that have so traitorously + discovered the secrets of your army and made such + pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can + serve the world for no honest use; therefore you + must die. Come, headsman, off with his head. + +PAROLLES O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! + +First Lord That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. + + [Unblinding him] + + So, look about you: know you any here? + +BERTRAM Good morrow, noble captain. + +Second Lord God bless you, Captain Parolles. + +First Lord God save you, noble captain. + +Second Lord Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? + I am for France. + +First Lord Good captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet + you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? + an I were not a very coward, I'ld compel it of you: + but fare you well. + + [Exeunt BERTRAM and Lords] + +First Soldier You are undone, captain, all but your scarf; that + has a knot on't yet + +PAROLLES Who cannot be crushed with a plot? + +First Soldier If you could find out a country where but women were + that had received so much shame, you might begin an + impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France + too: we shall speak of you there. + + [Exit with Soldiers] + +PAROLLES Yet am I thankful: if my heart were great, + 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; + But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft + As captain shall: simply the thing I am + Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, + Let him fear this, for it will come to pass + that every braggart shall be found an ass. + Rust, sword? cool, blushes! and, Parolles, live + Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! + There's place and means for every man alive. + I'll after them. + + [Exit] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Florence. The Widow's house. + + + [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA] + +HELENA That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you, + One of the greatest in the Christian world + Shall be my surety; 'fore whose throne 'tis needful, + Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel: + Time was, I did him a desired office, + Dear almost as his life; which gratitude + Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, + And answer, thanks: I duly am inform'd + His grace is at Marseilles; to which place + We have convenient convoy. You must know + I am supposed dead: the army breaking, + My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, + And by the leave of my good lord the king, + We'll be before our welcome. + +Widow Gentle madam, + You never had a servant to whose trust + Your business was more welcome. + +HELENA Nor you, mistress, + Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour + To recompense your love: doubt not but heaven + Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, + As it hath fated her to be my motive + And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! + That can such sweet use make of what they hate, + When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts + Defiles the pitchy night: so lust doth play + With what it loathes for that which is away. + But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, + Under my poor instructions yet must suffer + Something in my behalf. + +DIANA Let death and honesty + Go with your impositions, I am yours + Upon your will to suffer. + +HELENA Yet, I pray you: + But with the word the time will bring on summer, + When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns, + And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; + Our wagon is prepared, and time revives us: + All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown; + Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and Clown] + +LAFEU No, no, no, your son was misled with a snipt-taffeta + fellow there, whose villanous saffron would have + made all the unbaked and doughy youth of a nation in + his colour: your daughter-in-law had been alive at + this hour, and your son here at home, more advanced + by the king than by that red-tailed humble-bee I speak of. + +COUNTESS I would I had not known him; it was the death of the + most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had + praise for creating. If she had partaken of my + flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I + could not have owed her a more rooted love. + +LAFEU 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady: we may pick a + thousand salads ere we light on such another herb. + +Clown Indeed, sir, she was the sweet marjoram of the + salad, or rather, the herb of grace. + +LAFEU They are not herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. + +Clown I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much + skill in grass. + +LAFEU Whether dost thou profess thyself, a knave or a fool? + +Clown A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. + +LAFEU Your distinction? + +Clown I would cozen the man of his wife and do his service. + +LAFEU So you were a knave at his service, indeed. + +Clown And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. + +LAFEU I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knave and fool. + +Clown At your service. + +LAFEU No, no, no. + +Clown Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as + great a prince as you are. + +LAFEU Who's that? a Frenchman? + +Clown Faith, sir, a' has an English name; but his fisnomy + is more hotter in France than there. + +LAFEU What prince is that? + +Clown The black prince, sir; alias, the prince of + darkness; alias, the devil. + +LAFEU Hold thee, there's my purse: I give thee not this + to suggest thee from thy master thou talkest of; + serve him still. + +Clown I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a + great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a + good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the + world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for + the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be + too little for pomp to enter: some that humble + themselves may; but the many will be too chill and + tender, and they'll be for the flowery way that + leads to the broad gate and the great fire. + +LAFEU Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I + tell thee so before, because I would not fall out + with thee. Go thy ways: let my horses be well + looked to, without any tricks. + +Clown If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be + jades' tricks; which are their own right by the law of nature. + + [Exit] + +LAFEU A shrewd knave and an unhappy. + +COUNTESS So he is. My lord that's gone made himself much + sport out of him: by his authority he remains here, + which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and, + indeed, he has no pace, but runs where he will. + +LAFEU I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to + tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death and + that my lord your son was upon his return home, I + moved the king my master to speak in the behalf of + my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, + his majesty, out of a self-gracious remembrance, did + first propose: his highness hath promised me to do + it: and, to stop up the displeasure he hath + conceived against your son, there is no fitter + matter. How does your ladyship like it? + +COUNTESS With very much content, my lord; and I wish it + happily effected. + +LAFEU His highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able + body as when he numbered thirty: he will be here + to-morrow, or I am deceived by him that in such + intelligence hath seldom failed. + +COUNTESS It rejoices me, that I hope I shall see him ere I + die. I have letters that my son will be here + to-night: I shall beseech your lordship to remain + with me till they meet together. + +LAFEU Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might + safely be admitted. + +COUNTESS You need but plead your honourable privilege. + +LAFEU Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but I + thank my God it holds yet. + + [Re-enter Clown] + +Clown O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of + velvet on's face: whether there be a scar under't + or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of + velvet: his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a + half, but his right cheek is worn bare. + +LAFEU A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery + of honour; so belike is that. + +Clown But it is your carbonadoed face. + +LAFEU Let us go see your son, I pray you: I long to talk + with the young noble soldier. + +Clown Faith there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine + hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head + and nod at every man. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT V + + +SCENE I Marseilles. A street. + + + [Enter HELENA, Widow, and DIANA, with two + Attendants] + +HELENA But this exceeding posting day and night + Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it: + But since you have made the days and nights as one, + To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, + Be bold you do so grow in my requital + As nothing can unroot you. In happy time; + + [Enter a Gentleman] + + This man may help me to his majesty's ear, + If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. + +Gentleman And you. + +HELENA Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. + +Gentleman I have been sometimes there. + +HELENA I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen + From the report that goes upon your goodness; + An therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, + Which lay nice manners by, I put you to + The use of your own virtues, for the which + I shall continue thankful. + +Gentleman What's your will? + +HELENA That it will please you + To give this poor petition to the king, + And aid me with that store of power you have + To come into his presence. + +Gentleman The king's not here. + +HELENA Not here, sir! + +Gentleman Not, indeed: + He hence removed last night and with more haste + Than is his use. + +Widow Lord, how we lose our pains! + +HELENA ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL yet, + Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. + I do beseech you, whither is he gone? + +Gentleman Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; + Whither I am going. + +HELENA I do beseech you, sir, + Since you are like to see the king before me, + Commend the paper to his gracious hand, + Which I presume shall render you no blame + But rather make you thank your pains for it. + I will come after you with what good speed + Our means will make us means. + +Gentleman This I'll do for you. + +HELENA And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, + Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again. + Go, go, provide. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Rousillon. Before the COUNT's palace. + + + [Enter Clown, and PAROLLES, following] + +PAROLLES Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this + letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to + you, when I have held familiarity with fresher + clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's + mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong + displeasure. + +Clown Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it + smell so strongly as thou speakest of: I will + henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. + Prithee, allow the wind. + +PAROLLES Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake + but by a metaphor. + +Clown Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my + nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get + thee further. + +PAROLLES Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. + +Clown Foh! prithee, stand away: a paper from fortune's + close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he + comes himself. + + [Enter LAFEU] + + Here is a purr of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's + cat,--but not a musk-cat,--that has fallen into the + unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he + says, is muddied withal: pray you, sir, use the + carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, + ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his + distress in my similes of comfort and leave him to + your lordship. + + [Exit] + +PAROLLES My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly + scratched. + +LAFEU And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to + pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the + knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who + of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves + thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for + you: let the justices make you and fortune friends: + I am for other business. + +PAROLLES I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. + +LAFEU You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; + save your word. + +PAROLLES My name, my good lord, is Parolles. + +LAFEU You beg more than 'word,' then. Cox my passion! + give me your hand. How does your drum? + +PAROLLES O my good lord, you were the first that found me! + +LAFEU Was I, in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee. + +PAROLLES It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, + for you did bring me out. + +LAFEU Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me at once + both the office of God and the devil? One brings + thee in grace and the other brings thee out. + + [Trumpets sound] + + The king's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, + inquire further after me; I had talk of you last + night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall + eat; go to, follow. + +PAROLLES I praise God for you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Rousillon. The COUNT's palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two + French Lords, with Attendants] + +KING We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem + Was made much poorer by it: but your son, + As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know + Her estimation home. + +COUNTESS 'Tis past, my liege; + And I beseech your majesty to make it + Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; + When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, + O'erbears it and burns on. + +KING My honour'd lady, + I have forgiven and forgotten all; + Though my revenges were high bent upon him, + And watch'd the time to shoot. + +LAFEU This I must say, + But first I beg my pardon, the young lord + Did to his majesty, his mother and his lady + Offence of mighty note; but to himself + The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife + Whose beauty did astonish the survey + Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive, + Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve + Humbly call'd mistress. + +KING Praising what is lost + Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; + We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill + All repetition: let him not ask our pardon; + The nature of his great offence is dead, + And deeper than oblivion we do bury + The incensing relics of it: let him approach, + A stranger, no offender; and inform him + So 'tis our will he should. + +Gentleman I shall, my liege. + + [Exit] + +KING What says he to your daughter? have you spoke? + +LAFEU All that he is hath reference to your highness. + +KING Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me + That set him high in fame. + + [Enter BERTRAM] + +LAFEU He looks well on't. + +KING I am not a day of season, + For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail + In me at once: but to the brightest beams + Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; + The time is fair again. + +BERTRAM My high-repented blames, + Dear sovereign, pardon to me. + +KING All is whole; + Not one word more of the consumed time. + Let's take the instant by the forward top; + For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees + The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time + Steals ere we can effect them. You remember + The daughter of this lord? + +BERTRAM Admiringly, my liege, at first + I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart + Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue + Where the impression of mine eye infixing, + Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, + Which warp'd the line of every other favour; + Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen; + Extended or contracted all proportions + To a most hideous object: thence it came + That she whom all men praised and whom myself, + Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye + The dust that did offend it. + +KING Well excused: + That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away + From the great compt: but love that comes too late, + Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, + To the great sender turns a sour offence, + Crying, 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults + Make trivial price of serious things we have, + Not knowing them until we know their grave: + Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, + Destroy our friends and after weep their dust + Our own love waking cries to see what's done, + While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. + Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her. + Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin: + The main consents are had; and here we'll stay + To see our widower's second marriage-day. + +COUNTESS Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! + Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! + +LAFEU Come on, my son, in whom my house's name + Must be digested, give a favour from you + To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, + That she may quickly come. + + [BERTRAM gives a ring] + + By my old beard, + And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead, + Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this, + The last that e'er I took her at court, + I saw upon her finger. + +BERTRAM Hers it was not. + +KING Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, + While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. + This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, + I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood + Necessitied to help, that by this token + I would relieve her. Had you that craft, to reave + her + Of what should stead her most? + +BERTRAM My gracious sovereign, + Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, + The ring was never hers. + +COUNTESS Son, on my life, + I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it + At her life's rate. + +LAFEU I am sure I saw her wear it. + +BERTRAM You are deceived, my lord; she never saw it: + In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, + Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name + Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought + I stood engaged: but when I had subscribed + To mine own fortune and inform'd her fully + I could not answer in that course of honour + As she had made the overture, she ceased + In heavy satisfaction and would never + Receive the ring again. + +KING Plutus himself, + That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine, + Hath not in nature's mystery more science + Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's, + Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know + That you are well acquainted with yourself, + Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement + You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety + That she would never put it from her finger, + Unless she gave it to yourself in bed, + Where you have never come, or sent it us + Upon her great disaster. + +BERTRAM She never saw it. + +KING Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; + And makest conjectural fears to come into me + Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove + That thou art so inhuman,--'twill not prove so;-- + And yet I know not: thou didst hate her deadly, + And she is dead; which nothing, but to close + Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, + More than to see this ring. Take him away. + + [Guards seize BERTRAM] + + My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, + Shall tax my fears of little vanity, + Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him! + We'll sift this matter further. + +BERTRAM If you shall prove + This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy + Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, + Where yet she never was. + + [Exit, guarded] + +KING I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. + + [Enter a Gentleman] + +Gentleman Gracious sovereign, + Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: + Here's a petition from a Florentine, + Who hath for four or five removes come short + To tender it herself. I undertook it, + Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech + Of the poor suppliant, who by this I know + Is here attending: her business looks in her + With an importing visage; and she told me, + In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern + Your highness with herself. + +KING [Reads] Upon his many protestations to marry me + when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won + me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower: his vows + are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He + stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow + him to his country for justice: grant it me, O + king! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer + flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. + DIANA CAPILET. + +LAFEU I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for + this: I'll none of him. + +KING The heavens have thought well on thee Lafeu, + To bring forth this discovery. Seek these suitors: + Go speedily and bring again the count. + I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, + Was foully snatch'd. + +COUNTESS Now, justice on the doers! + + [Re-enter BERTRAM, guarded] + +KING I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you, + And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, + Yet you desire to marry. + + [Enter Widow and DIANA] + + What woman's that? + +DIANA I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, + Derived from the ancient Capilet: + My suit, as I do understand, you know, + And therefore know how far I may be pitied. + +Widow I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour + Both suffer under this complaint we bring, + And both shall cease, without your remedy. + +KING Come hither, count; do you know these women? + +BERTRAM My lord, I neither can nor will deny + But that I know them: do they charge me further? + +DIANA Why do you look so strange upon your wife? + +BERTRAM She's none of mine, my lord. + +DIANA If you shall marry, + You give away this hand, and that is mine; + You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; + You give away myself, which is known mine; + For I by vow am so embodied yours, + That she which marries you must marry me, + Either both or none. + +LAFEU Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you + are no husband for her. + +BERTRAM My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, + Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness + Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour + Than for to think that I would sink it here. + +KING Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend + Till your deeds gain them: fairer prove your honour + Than in my thought it lies. + +DIANA Good my lord, + Ask him upon his oath, if he does think + He had not my virginity. + +KING What say'st thou to her? + +BERTRAM She's impudent, my lord, + And was a common gamester to the camp. + +DIANA He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so, + He might have bought me at a common price: + Do not believe him. O, behold this ring, + Whose high respect and rich validity + Did lack a parallel; yet for all that + He gave it to a commoner o' the camp, + If I be one. + +COUNTESS He blushes, and 'tis it: + Of six preceding ancestors, that gem, + Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, + Hath it been owed and worn. This is his wife; + That ring's a thousand proofs. + +KING Methought you said + You saw one here in court could witness it. + +DIANA I did, my lord, but loath am to produce + So bad an instrument: his name's Parolles. + +LAFEU I saw the man to-day, if man he be. + +KING Find him, and bring him hither. + + [Exit an Attendant] + +BERTRAM What of him? + He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, + With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd; + Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. + Am I or that or this for what he'll utter, + That will speak any thing? + +KING She hath that ring of yours. + +BERTRAM I think she has: certain it is I liked her, + And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth: + She knew her distance and did angle for me, + Madding my eagerness with her restraint, + As all impediments in fancy's course + Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, + Her infinite cunning, with her modern grace, + Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; + And I had that which any inferior might + At market-price have bought. + +DIANA I must be patient: + You, that have turn'd off a first so noble wife, + May justly diet me. I pray you yet; + Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband; + Send for your ring, I will return it home, + And give me mine again. + +BERTRAM I have it not. + +KING What ring was yours, I pray you? + +DIANA Sir, much like + The same upon your finger. + +KING Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. + +DIANA And this was it I gave him, being abed. + +KING The story then goes false, you threw it him + Out of a casement. + +DIANA I have spoke the truth. + + [Enter PAROLLES] + +BERTRAM My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. + +KING You boggle shrewdly, every feather stars you. + Is this the man you speak of? + +DIANA Ay, my lord. + +KING Tell me, sirrah, but tell me true, I charge you, + Not fearing the displeasure of your master, + Which on your just proceeding I'll keep off, + By him and by this woman here what know you? + +PAROLLES So please your majesty, my master hath been an + honourable gentleman: tricks he hath had in him, + which gentlemen have. + +KING Come, come, to the purpose: did he love this woman? + +PAROLLES Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? + +KING How, I pray you? + +PAROLLES He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. + +KING How is that? + +PAROLLES He loved her, sir, and loved her not. + +KING As thou art a knave, and no knave. What an + equivocal companion is this! + +PAROLLES I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command. + +LAFEU He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. + +DIANA Do you know he promised me marriage? + +PAROLLES Faith, I know more than I'll speak. + +KING But wilt thou not speak all thou knowest? + +PAROLLES Yes, so please your majesty. I did go between them, + as I said; but more than that, he loved her: for + indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan and + of Limbo and of Furies and I know not what: yet I + was in that credit with them at that time that I + knew of their going to bed, and of other motions, + as promising her marriage, and things which would + derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not + speak what I know. + +KING Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say + they are married: but thou art too fine in thy + evidence; therefore stand aside. + This ring, you say, was yours? + +DIANA Ay, my good lord. + +KING Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? + +DIANA It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. + +KING Who lent it you? + +DIANA It was not lent me neither. + +KING Where did you find it, then? + +DIANA I found it not. + +KING If it were yours by none of all these ways, + How could you give it him? + +DIANA I never gave it him. + +LAFEU This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off + and on at pleasure. + +KING This ring was mine; I gave it his first wife. + +DIANA It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. + +KING Take her away; I do not like her now; + To prison with her: and away with him. + Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, + Thou diest within this hour. + +DIANA I'll never tell you. + +KING Take her away. + +DIANA I'll put in bail, my liege. + +KING I think thee now some common customer. + +DIANA By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. + +KING Wherefore hast thou accused him all this while? + +DIANA Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty: + He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't; + I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. + Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life; + I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. + +KING She does abuse our ears: to prison with her. + +DIANA Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir: + + [Exit Widow] + + The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, + And he shall surety me. But for this lord, + Who hath abused me, as he knows himself, + Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: + He knows himself my bed he hath defiled; + And at that time he got his wife with child: + Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick: + So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick: + And now behold the meaning. + + [Re-enter Widow, with HELENA] + +KING Is there no exorcist + Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? + Is't real that I see? + +HELENA No, my good lord; + 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, + The name and not the thing. + +BERTRAM Both, both. O, pardon! + +HELENA O my good lord, when I was like this maid, + I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring; + And, look you, here's your letter; this it says: + 'When from my finger you can get this ring + And are by me with child,' &c. This is done: + Will you be mine, now you are doubly won? + +BERTRAM If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, + I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. + +HELENA If it appear not plain and prove untrue, + Deadly divorce step between me and you! + O my dear mother, do I see you living? + +LAFEU Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon: + + [To PAROLLES] + + Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher: so, + I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: + Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. + +KING Let us from point to point this story know, + To make the even truth in pleasure flow. + + [To DIANA] + + If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, + Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; + For I can guess that by thy honest aid + Thou keep'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. + Of that and all the progress, more or less, + Resolvedly more leisure shall express: + All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, + The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. + + [Flourish] + + + + + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + EPILOGUE + + +KING The king's a beggar, now the play is done: + All is well ended, if this suit be won, + That you express content; which we will pay, + With strife to please you, day exceeding day: + Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; + Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. + + [Exeunt] + AS YOU LIKE IT + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DUKE SENIOR living in banishment. + +DUKE FREDERICK his brother, an usurper of his dominions. + + +AMIENS | + | lords attending on the banished duke. +JAQUES | + + +LE BEAU a courtier attending upon Frederick. + +CHARLES wrestler to Frederick. + + +OLIVER | + | +JAQUES (JAQUES DE BOYS:) | sons of Sir Rowland de Boys. + | +ORLANDO | + + +ADAM | + | servants to Oliver. +DENNIS | + + +TOUCHSTONE a clown. + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT a vicar. + + +CORIN | + | shepherds. +SILVIUS | + + +WILLIAM a country fellow in love with Audrey. + + A person representing HYMEN. (HYMEN:) + +ROSALIND daughter to the banished duke. + +CELIA daughter to Frederick. + +PHEBE a shepherdess. + +AUDREY a country wench. + + Lords, pages, and attendants, &c. + (Forester:) + (A Lord:) + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (First Page:) + (Second Page:) + + +SCENE Oliver's house; Duke Frederick's court; and the + Forest of Arden. + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Orchard of Oliver's house. + + + [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] + +ORLANDO As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion + bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, + and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his + blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my + sadness. My brother Jaques he keeps at school, and + report speaks goldenly of his profit: for my part, + he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak more + properly, stays me here at home unkept; for call you + that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that + differs not from the stalling of an ox? His horses + are bred better; for, besides that they are fair + with their feeding, they are taught their manage, + and to that end riders dearly hired: but I, his + brother, gain nothing under him but growth; for the + which his animals on his dunghills are as much + bound to him as I. Besides this nothing that he so + plentifully gives me, the something that nature gave + me his countenance seems to take from me: he lets + me feed with his hinds, bars me the place of a + brother, and, as much as in him lies, mines my + gentility with my education. This is it, Adam, that + grieves me; and the spirit of my father, which I + think is within me, begins to mutiny against this + servitude: I will no longer endure it, though yet I + know no wise remedy how to avoid it. + +ADAM Yonder comes my master, your brother. + +ORLANDO Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he will + shake me up. + + [Enter OLIVER] + +OLIVER Now, sir! what make you here? + +ORLANDO Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing. + +OLIVER What mar you then, sir? + +ORLANDO Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God + made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. + +OLIVER Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile. + +ORLANDO Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? + What prodigal portion have I spent, that I should + come to such penury? + +OLIVER Know you where your are, sir? + +ORLANDO O, sir, very well; here in your orchard. + +OLIVER Know you before whom, sir? + +ORLANDO Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know + you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle + condition of blood, you should so know me. The + courtesy of nations allows you my better, in that + you are the first-born; but the same tradition + takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers + betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as + you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is + nearer to his reverence. + +OLIVER What, boy! + +ORLANDO Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this. + +OLIVER Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain? + +ORLANDO I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir + Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice + a villain that says such a father begot villains. + Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand + from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy + tongue for saying so: thou hast railed on thyself. + +ADAM Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's + remembrance, be at accord. + +OLIVER Let me go, I say. + +ORLANDO I will not, till I please: you shall hear me. My + father charged you in his will to give me good + education: you have trained me like a peasant, + obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like + qualities. The spirit of my father grows strong in + me, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow + me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or + give me the poor allottery my father left me by + testament; with that I will go buy my fortunes. + +OLIVER And what wilt thou do? beg, when that is spent? + Well, sir, get you in: I will not long be troubled + with you; you shall have some part of your will: I + pray you, leave me. + +ORLANDO I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good. + +OLIVER Get you with him, you old dog. + +ADAM Is 'old dog' my reward? Most true, I have lost my + teeth in your service. God be with my old master! + he would not have spoke such a word. + + [Exeunt ORLANDO and ADAM] + +OLIVER Is it even so? begin you to grow upon me? I will + physic your rankness, and yet give no thousand + crowns neither. Holla, Dennis! + + [Enter DENNIS] + +DENNIS Calls your worship? + +OLIVER Was not Charles, the duke's wrestler, here to speak with me? + +DENNIS So please you, he is here at the door and importunes + access to you. + +OLIVER Call him in. + + [Exit DENNIS] + + 'Twill be a good way; and to-morrow the wrestling is. + + [Enter CHARLES] + +CHARLES Good morrow to your worship. + +OLIVER Good Monsieur Charles, what's the new news at the + new court? + +CHARLES There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: + that is, the old duke is banished by his younger + brother the new duke; and three or four loving lords + have put themselves into voluntary exile with him, + whose lands and revenues enrich the new duke; + therefore he gives them good leave to wander. + +OLIVER Can you tell if Rosalind, the duke's daughter, be + banished with her father? + +CHARLES O, no; for the duke's daughter, her cousin, so loves + her, being ever from their cradles bred together, + that she would have followed her exile, or have died + to stay behind her. She is at the court, and no + less beloved of her uncle than his own daughter; and + never two ladies loved as they do. + +OLIVER Where will the old duke live? + +CHARLES They say he is already in the forest of Arden, and + a many merry men with him; and there they live like + the old Robin Hood of England: they say many young + gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time + carelessly, as they did in the golden world. + +OLIVER What, you wrestle to-morrow before the new duke? + +CHARLES Marry, do I, sir; and I came to acquaint you with a + matter. I am given, sir, secretly to understand + that your younger brother Orlando hath a disposition + to come in disguised against me to try a fall. + To-morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he that + escapes me without some broken limb shall acquit him + well. Your brother is but young and tender; and, + for your love, I would be loath to foil him, as I + must, for my own honour, if he come in: therefore, + out of my love to you, I came hither to acquaint you + withal, that either you might stay him from his + intendment or brook such disgrace well as he shall + run into, in that it is a thing of his own search + and altogether against my will. + +OLIVER Charles, I thank thee for thy love to me, which + thou shalt find I will most kindly requite. I had + myself notice of my brother's purpose herein and + have by underhand means laboured to dissuade him from + it, but he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles: + it is the stubbornest young fellow of France, full + of ambition, an envious emulator of every man's + good parts, a secret and villanous contriver against + me his natural brother: therefore use thy + discretion; I had as lief thou didst break his neck + as his finger. And thou wert best look to't; for if + thou dost him any slight disgrace or if he do not + mightily grace himself on thee, he will practise + against thee by poison, entrap thee by some + treacherous device and never leave thee till he + hath ta'en thy life by some indirect means or other; + for, I assure thee, and almost with tears I speak + it, there is not one so young and so villanous this + day living. I speak but brotherly of him; but + should I anatomize him to thee as he is, I must + blush and weep and thou must look pale and wonder. + +CHARLES I am heartily glad I came hither to you. If he come + to-morrow, I'll give him his payment: if ever he go + alone again, I'll never wrestle for prize more: and + so God keep your worship! + +OLIVER Farewell, good Charles. + + [Exit CHARLES] + + Now will I stir this gamester: I hope I shall see + an end of him; for my soul, yet I know not why, + hates nothing more than he. Yet he's gentle, never + schooled and yet learned, full of noble device, of + all sorts enchantingly beloved, and indeed so much + in the heart of the world, and especially of my own + people, who best know him, that I am altogether + misprised: but it shall not be so long; this + wrestler shall clear all: nothing remains but that + I kindle the boy thither; which now I'll go about. + + [Exit] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Lawn before the Duke's palace. + + + [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] + +CELIA I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, be merry. + +ROSALIND Dear Celia, I show more mirth than I am mistress of; + and would you yet I were merrier? Unless you could + teach me to forget a banished father, you must not + learn me how to remember any extraordinary pleasure. + +CELIA Herein I see thou lovest me not with the full weight + that I love thee. If my uncle, thy banished father, + had banished thy uncle, the duke my father, so thou + hadst been still with me, I could have taught my + love to take thy father for mine: so wouldst thou, + if the truth of thy love to me were so righteously + tempered as mine is to thee. + +ROSALIND Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to + rejoice in yours. + +CELIA You know my father hath no child but I, nor none is + like to have: and, truly, when he dies, thou shalt + be his heir, for what he hath taken away from thy + father perforce, I will render thee again in + affection; by mine honour, I will; and when I break + that oath, let me turn monster: therefore, my + sweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. + +ROSALIND From henceforth I will, coz, and devise sports. Let + me see; what think you of falling in love? + +CELIA Marry, I prithee, do, to make sport withal: but + love no man in good earnest; nor no further in sport + neither than with safety of a pure blush thou mayst + in honour come off again. + +ROSALIND What shall be our sport, then? + +CELIA Let us sit and mock the good housewife Fortune from + her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. + +ROSALIND I would we could do so, for her benefits are + mightily misplaced, and the bountiful blind woman + doth most mistake in her gifts to women. + +CELIA 'Tis true; for those that she makes fair she scarce + makes honest, and those that she makes honest she + makes very ill-favouredly. + +ROSALIND Nay, now thou goest from Fortune's office to + Nature's: Fortune reigns in gifts of the world, + not in the lineaments of Nature. + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE] + +CELIA No? when Nature hath made a fair creature, may she + not by Fortune fall into the fire? Though Nature + hath given us wit to flout at Fortune, hath not + Fortune sent in this fool to cut off the argument? + +ROSALIND Indeed, there is Fortune too hard for Nature, when + Fortune makes Nature's natural the cutter-off of + Nature's wit. + +CELIA Peradventure this is not Fortune's work neither, but + Nature's; who perceiveth our natural wits too dull + to reason of such goddesses and hath sent this + natural for our whetstone; for always the dulness of + the fool is the whetstone of the wits. How now, + wit! whither wander you? + +TOUCHSTONE Mistress, you must come away to your father. + +CELIA Were you made the messenger? + +TOUCHSTONE No, by mine honour, but I was bid to come for you. + +ROSALIND Where learned you that oath, fool? + +TOUCHSTONE Of a certain knight that swore by his honour they + were good pancakes and swore by his honour the + mustard was naught: now I'll stand to it, the + pancakes were naught and the mustard was good, and + yet was not the knight forsworn. + +CELIA How prove you that, in the great heap of your + knowledge? + +ROSALIND Ay, marry, now unmuzzle your wisdom. + +TOUCHSTONE Stand you both forth now: stroke your chins, and + swear by your beards that I am a knave. + +CELIA By our beards, if we had them, thou art. + +TOUCHSTONE By my knavery, if I had it, then I were; but if you + swear by that that is not, you are not forsworn: no + more was this knight swearing by his honour, for he + never had any; or if he had, he had sworn it away + before ever he saw those pancakes or that mustard. + +CELIA Prithee, who is't that thou meanest? + +TOUCHSTONE One that old Frederick, your father, loves. + +CELIA My father's love is enough to honour him: enough! + speak no more of him; you'll be whipped for taxation + one of these days. + +TOUCHSTONE The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what + wise men do foolishly. + +CELIA By my troth, thou sayest true; for since the little + wit that fools have was silenced, the little foolery + that wise men have makes a great show. Here comes + Monsieur Le Beau. + +ROSALIND With his mouth full of news. + +CELIA Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. + +ROSALIND Then shall we be news-crammed. + +CELIA All the better; we shall be the more marketable. + + [Enter LE BEAU] + + Bon jour, Monsieur Le Beau: what's the news? + +LE BEAU Fair princess, you have lost much good sport. + +CELIA Sport! of what colour? + +LE BEAU What colour, madam! how shall I answer you? + +ROSALIND As wit and fortune will. + +TOUCHSTONE Or as the Destinies decree. + +CELIA Well said: that was laid on with a trowel. + +TOUCHSTONE Nay, if I keep not my rank,-- + +ROSALIND Thou losest thy old smell. + +LE BEAU You amaze me, ladies: I would have told you of good + wrestling, which you have lost the sight of. + +ROSALIND You tell us the manner of the wrestling. + +LE BEAU I will tell you the beginning; and, if it please + your ladyships, you may see the end; for the best is + yet to do; and here, where you are, they are coming + to perform it. + +CELIA Well, the beginning, that is dead and buried. + +LE BEAU There comes an old man and his three sons,-- + +CELIA I could match this beginning with an old tale. + +LE BEAU Three proper young men, of excellent growth and presence. + +ROSALIND With bills on their necks, 'Be it known unto all men + by these presents.' + +LE BEAU The eldest of the three wrestled with Charles, the + duke's wrestler; which Charles in a moment threw him + and broke three of his ribs, that there is little + hope of life in him: so he served the second, and + so the third. Yonder they lie; the poor old man, + their father, making such pitiful dole over them + that all the beholders take his part with weeping. + +ROSALIND Alas! + +TOUCHSTONE But what is the sport, monsieur, that the ladies + have lost? + +LE BEAU Why, this that I speak of. + +TOUCHSTONE Thus men may grow wiser every day: it is the first + time that ever I heard breaking of ribs was sport + for ladies. + +CELIA Or I, I promise thee. + +ROSALIND But is there any else longs to see this broken music + in his sides? is there yet another dotes upon + rib-breaking? Shall we see this wrestling, cousin? + +LE BEAU You must, if you stay here; for here is the place + appointed for the wrestling, and they are ready to + perform it. + +CELIA Yonder, sure, they are coming: let us now stay and see it. + + [Flourish. Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, ORLANDO, + CHARLES, and Attendants] + +DUKE FREDERICK Come on: since the youth will not be entreated, his + own peril on his forwardness. + +ROSALIND Is yonder the man? + +LE BEAU Even he, madam. + +CELIA Alas, he is too young! yet he looks successfully. + +DUKE FREDERICK How now, daughter and cousin! are you crept hither + to see the wrestling? + +ROSALIND Ay, my liege, so please you give us leave. + +DUKE FREDERICK You will take little delight in it, I can tell you; + there is such odds in the man. In pity of the + challenger's youth I would fain dissuade him, but he + will not be entreated. Speak to him, ladies; see if + you can move him. + +CELIA Call him hither, good Monsieur Le Beau. + +DUKE FREDERICK Do so: I'll not be by. + +LE BEAU Monsieur the challenger, the princesses call for you. + +ORLANDO I attend them with all respect and duty. + +ROSALIND Young man, have you challenged Charles the wrestler? + +ORLANDO No, fair princess; he is the general challenger: I + come but in, as others do, to try with him the + strength of my youth. + +CELIA Young gentleman, your spirits are too bold for your + years. You have seen cruel proof of this man's + strength: if you saw yourself with your eyes or + knew yourself with your judgment, the fear of your + adventure would counsel you to a more equal + enterprise. We pray you, for your own sake, to + embrace your own safety and give over this attempt. + +ROSALIND Do, young sir; your reputation shall not therefore + be misprised: we will make it our suit to the duke + that the wrestling might not go forward. + +ORLANDO I beseech you, punish me not with your hard + thoughts; wherein I confess me much guilty, to deny + so fair and excellent ladies any thing. But let + your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to my + trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one + shamed that was never gracious; if killed, but one + dead that was willing to be so: I shall do my + friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me, the + world no injury, for in it I have nothing; only in + the world I fill up a place, which may be better + supplied when I have made it empty. + +ROSALIND The little strength that I have, I would it were with you. + +CELIA And mine, to eke out hers. + +ROSALIND Fare you well: pray heaven I be deceived in you! + +CELIA Your heart's desires be with you! + +CHARLES Come, where is this young gallant that is so + desirous to lie with his mother earth? + +ORLANDO Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a more modest working. + +DUKE FREDERICK You shall try but one fall. + +CHARLES No, I warrant your grace, you shall not entreat him + to a second, that have so mightily persuaded him + from a first. + +ORLANDO An you mean to mock me after, you should not have + mocked me before: but come your ways. + +ROSALIND Now Hercules be thy speed, young man! + +CELIA I would I were invisible, to catch the strong + fellow by the leg. + + [They wrestle] + +ROSALIND O excellent young man! + +CELIA If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, I can tell who + should down. + + [Shout. CHARLES is thrown] + +DUKE FREDERICK No more, no more. + +ORLANDO Yes, I beseech your grace: I am not yet well breathed. + +DUKE FREDERICK How dost thou, Charles? + +LE BEAU He cannot speak, my lord. + +DUKE FREDERICK Bear him away. What is thy name, young man? + +ORLANDO Orlando, my liege; the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. + +DUKE FREDERICK I would thou hadst been son to some man else: + The world esteem'd thy father honourable, + But I did find him still mine enemy: + Thou shouldst have better pleased me with this deed, + Hadst thou descended from another house. + But fare thee well; thou art a gallant youth: + I would thou hadst told me of another father. + + [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, train, and LE BEAU] + +CELIA Were I my father, coz, would I do this? + +ORLANDO I am more proud to be Sir Rowland's son, + His youngest son; and would not change that calling, + To be adopted heir to Frederick. + +ROSALIND My father loved Sir Rowland as his soul, + And all the world was of my father's mind: + Had I before known this young man his son, + I should have given him tears unto entreaties, + Ere he should thus have ventured. + +CELIA Gentle cousin, + Let us go thank him and encourage him: + My father's rough and envious disposition + Sticks me at heart. Sir, you have well deserved: + If you do keep your promises in love + But justly, as you have exceeded all promise, + Your mistress shall be happy. + +ROSALIND Gentleman, + + [Giving him a chain from her neck] + + Wear this for me, one out of suits with fortune, + That could give more, but that her hand lacks means. + Shall we go, coz? + +CELIA Ay. Fare you well, fair gentleman. + +ORLANDO Can I not say, I thank you? My better parts + Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up + Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block. + +ROSALIND He calls us back: my pride fell with my fortunes; + I'll ask him what he would. Did you call, sir? + Sir, you have wrestled well and overthrown + More than your enemies. + +CELIA Will you go, coz? + +ROSALIND Have with you. Fare you well. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ORLANDO What passion hangs these weights upon my tongue? + I cannot speak to her, yet she urged conference. + O poor Orlando, thou art overthrown! + Or Charles or something weaker masters thee. + + [Re-enter LE BEAU] + +LE BEAU Good sir, I do in friendship counsel you + To leave this place. Albeit you have deserved + High commendation, true applause and love, + Yet such is now the duke's condition + That he misconstrues all that you have done. + The duke is humorous; what he is indeed, + More suits you to conceive than I to speak of. + +ORLANDO I thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell me this: + Which of the two was daughter of the duke + That here was at the wrestling? + +LE BEAU Neither his daughter, if we judge by manners; + But yet indeed the lesser is his daughter + The other is daughter to the banish'd duke, + And here detain'd by her usurping uncle, + To keep his daughter company; whose loves + Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. + But I can tell you that of late this duke + Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece, + Grounded upon no other argument + But that the people praise her for her virtues + And pity her for her good father's sake; + And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady + Will suddenly break forth. Sir, fare you well: + Hereafter, in a better world than this, + I shall desire more love and knowledge of you. + +ORLANDO I rest much bounden to you: fare you well. + + [Exit LE BEAU] + + Thus must I from the smoke into the smother; + From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother: + But heavenly Rosalind! + + [Exit] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in the palace. + + + [Enter CELIA and ROSALIND] + +CELIA Why, cousin! why, Rosalind! Cupid have mercy! not a word? + +ROSALIND Not one to throw at a dog. + +CELIA No, thy words are too precious to be cast away upon + curs; throw some of them at me; come, lame me with reasons. + +ROSALIND Then there were two cousins laid up; when the one + should be lamed with reasons and the other mad + without any. + +CELIA But is all this for your father? + +ROSALIND No, some of it is for my child's father. O, how + full of briers is this working-day world! + +CELIA They are but burs, cousin, thrown upon thee in + holiday foolery: if we walk not in the trodden + paths our very petticoats will catch them. + +ROSALIND I could shake them off my coat: these burs are in my heart. + +CELIA Hem them away. + +ROSALIND I would try, if I could cry 'hem' and have him. + +CELIA Come, come, wrestle with thy affections. + +ROSALIND O, they take the part of a better wrestler than myself! + +CELIA O, a good wish upon you! you will try in time, in + despite of a fall. But, turning these jests out of + service, let us talk in good earnest: is it + possible, on such a sudden, you should fall into so + strong a liking with old Sir Rowland's youngest son? + +ROSALIND The duke my father loved his father dearly. + +CELIA Doth it therefore ensue that you should love his son + dearly? By this kind of chase, I should hate him, + for my father hated his father dearly; yet I hate + not Orlando. + +ROSALIND No, faith, hate him not, for my sake. + +CELIA Why should I not? doth he not deserve well? + +ROSALIND Let me love him for that, and do you love him + because I do. Look, here comes the duke. + +CELIA With his eyes full of anger. + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] + +DUKE FREDERICK Mistress, dispatch you with your safest haste + And get you from our court. + +ROSALIND Me, uncle? + +DUKE FREDERICK You, cousin + Within these ten days if that thou be'st found + So near our public court as twenty miles, + Thou diest for it. + +ROSALIND I do beseech your grace, + Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me: + If with myself I hold intelligence + Or have acquaintance with mine own desires, + If that I do not dream or be not frantic,-- + As I do trust I am not--then, dear uncle, + Never so much as in a thought unborn + Did I offend your highness. + +DUKE FREDERICK Thus do all traitors: + If their purgation did consist in words, + They are as innocent as grace itself: + Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not. + +ROSALIND Yet your mistrust cannot make me a traitor: + Tell me whereon the likelihood depends. + +DUKE FREDERICK Thou art thy father's daughter; there's enough. + +ROSALIND So was I when your highness took his dukedom; + So was I when your highness banish'd him: + Treason is not inherited, my lord; + Or, if we did derive it from our friends, + What's that to me? my father was no traitor: + Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much + To think my poverty is treacherous. + +CELIA Dear sovereign, hear me speak. + +DUKE FREDERICK Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake, + Else had she with her father ranged along. + +CELIA I did not then entreat to have her stay; + It was your pleasure and your own remorse: + I was too young that time to value her; + But now I know her: if she be a traitor, + Why so am I; we still have slept together, + Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together, + And wheresoever we went, like Juno's swans, + Still we went coupled and inseparable. + +DUKE FREDERICK She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, + Her very silence and her patience + Speak to the people, and they pity her. + Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; + And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous + When she is gone. Then open not thy lips: + Firm and irrevocable is my doom + Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. + +CELIA Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege: + I cannot live out of her company. + +DUKE FREDERICK You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: + If you outstay the time, upon mine honour, + And in the greatness of my word, you die. + + [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK and Lords] + +CELIA O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? + Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. + I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. + +ROSALIND I have more cause. + +CELIA Thou hast not, cousin; + Prithee be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke + Hath banish'd me, his daughter? + +ROSALIND That he hath not. + +CELIA No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love + Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one: + Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? + No: let my father seek another heir. + Therefore devise with me how we may fly, + Whither to go and what to bear with us; + And do not seek to take your change upon you, + To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out; + For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale, + Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. + +ROSALIND Why, whither shall we go? + +CELIA To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden. + +ROSALIND Alas, what danger will it be to us, + Maids as we are, to travel forth so far! + Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. + +CELIA I'll put myself in poor and mean attire + And with a kind of umber smirch my face; + The like do you: so shall we pass along + And never stir assailants. + +ROSALIND Were it not better, + Because that I am more than common tall, + That I did suit me all points like a man? + A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh, + A boar-spear in my hand; and--in my heart + Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-- + We'll have a swashing and a martial outside, + As many other mannish cowards have + That do outface it with their semblances. + +CELIA What shall I call thee when thou art a man? + +ROSALIND I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page; + And therefore look you call me Ganymede. + But what will you be call'd? + +CELIA Something that hath a reference to my state + No longer Celia, but Aliena. + +ROSALIND But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal + The clownish fool out of your father's court? + Would he not be a comfort to our travel? + +CELIA He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; + Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away, + And get our jewels and our wealth together, + Devise the fittest time and safest way + To hide us from pursuit that will be made + After my flight. Now go we in content + To liberty and not to banishment. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I The Forest of Arden. + + + [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and two or three Lords, + like foresters] + +DUKE SENIOR Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, + Hath not old custom made this life more sweet + Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods + More free from peril than the envious court? + Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, + The seasons' difference, as the icy fang + And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, + Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, + Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say + 'This is no flattery: these are counsellors + That feelingly persuade me what I am.' + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; + And this our life exempt from public haunt + Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, + Sermons in stones and good in every thing. + I would not change it. + +AMIENS Happy is your grace, + That can translate the stubbornness of fortune + Into so quiet and so sweet a style. + +DUKE SENIOR Come, shall we go and kill us venison? + And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools, + Being native burghers of this desert city, + Should in their own confines with forked heads + Have their round haunches gored. + +First Lord Indeed, my lord, + The melancholy Jaques grieves at that, + And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp + Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. + To-day my Lord of Amiens and myself + Did steal behind him as he lay along + Under an oak whose antique root peeps out + Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: + To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, + That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, + Did come to languish, and indeed, my lord, + The wretched animal heaved forth such groans + That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat + Almost to bursting, and the big round tears + Coursed one another down his innocent nose + In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool + Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, + Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, + Augmenting it with tears. + +DUKE SENIOR But what said Jaques? + Did he not moralize this spectacle? + +First Lord O, yes, into a thousand similes. + First, for his weeping into the needless stream; + 'Poor deer,' quoth he, 'thou makest a testament + As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more + To that which had too much:' then, being there alone, + Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends, + ''Tis right:' quoth he; 'thus misery doth part + The flux of company:' anon a careless herd, + Full of the pasture, jumps along by him + And never stays to greet him; 'Ay' quoth Jaques, + 'Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; + 'Tis just the fashion: wherefore do you look + Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there?' + Thus most invectively he pierceth through + The body of the country, city, court, + Yea, and of this our life, swearing that we + Are mere usurpers, tyrants and what's worse, + To fright the animals and to kill them up + In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. + +DUKE SENIOR And did you leave him in this contemplation? + +Second Lord We did, my lord, weeping and commenting + Upon the sobbing deer. + +DUKE SENIOR Show me the place: + I love to cope him in these sullen fits, + For then he's full of matter. + +First Lord I'll bring you to him straight. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A room in the palace. + + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, with Lords] + +DUKE FREDERICK Can it be possible that no man saw them? + It cannot be: some villains of my court + Are of consent and sufferance in this. + +First Lord I cannot hear of any that did see her. + The ladies, her attendants of her chamber, + Saw her abed, and in the morning early + They found the bed untreasured of their mistress. + +Second Lord My lord, the roynish clown, at whom so oft + Your grace was wont to laugh, is also missing. + Hisperia, the princess' gentlewoman, + Confesses that she secretly o'erheard + Your daughter and her cousin much commend + The parts and graces of the wrestler + That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; + And she believes, wherever they are gone, + That youth is surely in their company. + +DUKE FREDERICK Send to his brother; fetch that gallant hither; + If he be absent, bring his brother to me; + I'll make him find him: do this suddenly, + And let not search and inquisition quail + To bring again these foolish runaways. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Before OLIVER'S house. + + + [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting] + +ORLANDO Who's there? + +ADAM What, my young master? O, my gentle master! + O my sweet master! O you memory + Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? + Why are you virtuous? why do people love you? + And wherefore are you gentle, strong and valiant? + Why would you be so fond to overcome + The bonny priser of the humorous duke? + Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. + Know you not, master, to some kind of men + Their graces serve them but as enemies? + No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master, + Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. + O, what a world is this, when what is comely + Envenoms him that bears it! + +ORLANDO Why, what's the matter? + +ADAM O unhappy youth! + Come not within these doors; within this roof + The enemy of all your graces lives: + Your brother--no, no brother; yet the son-- + Yet not the son, I will not call him son + Of him I was about to call his father-- + Hath heard your praises, and this night he means + To burn the lodging where you use to lie + And you within it: if he fail of that, + He will have other means to cut you off. + I overheard him and his practises. + This is no place; this house is but a butchery: + Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. + +ORLANDO Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? + +ADAM No matter whither, so you come not here. + +ORLANDO What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? + Or with a base and boisterous sword enforce + A thievish living on the common road? + This I must do, or know not what to do: + Yet this I will not do, do how I can; + I rather will subject me to the malice + Of a diverted blood and bloody brother. + +ADAM But do not so. I have five hundred crowns, + The thrifty hire I saved under your father, + Which I did store to be my foster-nurse + When service should in my old limbs lie lame + And unregarded age in corners thrown: + Take that, and He that doth the ravens feed, + Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, + Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; + And all this I give you. Let me be your servant: + Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility; + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; + I'll do the service of a younger man + In all your business and necessities. + +ORLANDO O good old man, how well in thee appears + The constant service of the antique world, + When service sweat for duty, not for meed! + Thou art not for the fashion of these times, + Where none will sweat but for promotion, + And having that, do choke their service up + Even with the having: it is not so with thee. + But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, + That cannot so much as a blossom yield + In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry + But come thy ways; well go along together, + And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, + We'll light upon some settled low content. + +ADAM Master, go on, and I will follow thee, + To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty. + From seventeen years till now almost fourscore + Here lived I, but now live here no more. + At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; + But at fourscore it is too late a week: + Yet fortune cannot recompense me better + Than to die well and not my master's debtor. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV The Forest of Arden. + + + [Enter ROSALIND for Ganymede, CELIA for Aliena, + and TOUCHSTONE] + +ROSALIND O Jupiter, how weary are my spirits! + +TOUCHSTONE I care not for my spirits, if my legs were not weary. + +ROSALIND I could find in my heart to disgrace my man's + apparel and to cry like a woman; but I must comfort + the weaker vessel, as doublet and hose ought to show + itself courageous to petticoat: therefore courage, + good Aliena! + +CELIA I pray you, bear with me; I cannot go no further. + +TOUCHSTONE For my part, I had rather bear with you than bear + you; yet I should bear no cross if I did bear you, + for I think you have no money in your purse. + +ROSALIND Well, this is the forest of Arden. + +TOUCHSTONE Ay, now am I in Arden; the more fool I; when I was + at home, I was in a better place: but travellers + must be content. + +ROSALIND Ay, be so, good Touchstone. + + [Enter CORIN and SILVIUS] + + Look you, who comes here; a young man and an old in + solemn talk. + +CORIN That is the way to make her scorn you still. + +SILVIUS O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her! + +CORIN I partly guess; for I have loved ere now. + +SILVIUS No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, + Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover + As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow: + But if thy love were ever like to mine-- + As sure I think did never man love so-- + How many actions most ridiculous + Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? + +CORIN Into a thousand that I have forgotten. + +SILVIUS O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! + If thou remember'st not the slightest folly + That ever love did make thee run into, + Thou hast not loved: + Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, + Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, + Thou hast not loved: + Or if thou hast not broke from company + Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, + Thou hast not loved. + O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe! + + [Exit] + +ROSALIND Alas, poor shepherd! searching of thy wound, + I have by hard adventure found mine own. + +TOUCHSTONE And I mine. I remember, when I was in love I broke + my sword upon a stone and bid him take that for + coming a-night to Jane Smile; and I remember the + kissing of her batlet and the cow's dugs that her + pretty chopt hands had milked; and I remember the + wooing of a peascod instead of her, from whom I took + two cods and, giving her them again, said with + weeping tears 'Wear these for my sake.' We that are + true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is + mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly. + +ROSALIND Thou speakest wiser than thou art ware of. + +TOUCHSTONE Nay, I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I + break my shins against it. + +ROSALIND Jove, Jove! this shepherd's passion + Is much upon my fashion. + +TOUCHSTONE And mine; but it grows something stale with me. + +CELIA I pray you, one of you question yond man + If he for gold will give us any food: + I faint almost to death. + +TOUCHSTONE Holla, you clown! + +ROSALIND Peace, fool: he's not thy kinsman. + +CORIN Who calls? + +TOUCHSTONE Your betters, sir. + +CORIN Else are they very wretched. + +ROSALIND Peace, I say. Good even to you, friend. + +CORIN And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. + +ROSALIND I prithee, shepherd, if that love or gold + Can in this desert place buy entertainment, + Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed: + Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd + And faints for succor. + +CORIN Fair sir, I pity her + And wish, for her sake more than for mine own, + My fortunes were more able to relieve her; + But I am shepherd to another man + And do not shear the fleeces that I graze: + My master is of churlish disposition + And little recks to find the way to heaven + By doing deeds of hospitality: + Besides, his cote, his flocks and bounds of feed + Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now, + By reason of his absence, there is nothing + That you will feed on; but what is, come see. + And in my voice most welcome shall you be. + +ROSALIND What is he that shall buy his flock and pasture? + +CORIN That young swain that you saw here but erewhile, + That little cares for buying any thing. + +ROSALIND I pray thee, if it stand with honesty, + Buy thou the cottage, pasture and the flock, + And thou shalt have to pay for it of us. + +CELIA And we will mend thy wages. I like this place. + And willingly could waste my time in it. + +CORIN Assuredly the thing is to be sold: + Go with me: if you like upon report + The soil, the profit and this kind of life, + I will your very faithful feeder be + And buy it with your gold right suddenly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V The Forest. + + + [Enter AMIENS, JAQUES, and others] + + SONG. +AMIENS Under the greenwood tree + Who loves to lie with me, + And turn his merry note + Unto the sweet bird's throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither: + Here shall he see No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES More, more, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS It will make you melancholy, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES I thank it. More, I prithee, more. I can suck + melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs. + More, I prithee, more. + +AMIENS My voice is ragged: I know I cannot please you. + +JAQUES I do not desire you to please me; I do desire you to + sing. Come, more; another stanzo: call you 'em stanzos? + +AMIENS What you will, Monsieur Jaques. + +JAQUES Nay, I care not for their names; they owe me + nothing. Will you sing? + +AMIENS More at your request than to please myself. + +JAQUES Well then, if ever I thank any man, I'll thank you; + but that they call compliment is like the encounter + of two dog-apes, and when a man thanks me heartily, + methinks I have given him a penny and he renders me + the beggarly thanks. Come, sing; and you that will + not, hold your tongues. + +AMIENS Well, I'll end the song. Sirs, cover the while; the + duke will drink under this tree. He hath been all + this day to look you. + +JAQUES And I have been all this day to avoid him. He is + too disputable for my company: I think of as many + matters as he, but I give heaven thanks and make no + boast of them. Come, warble, come. + + SONG. + Who doth ambition shun + + [All together here] + + And loves to live i' the sun, + Seeking the food he eats + And pleased with what he gets, + Come hither, come hither, come hither: + Here shall he see No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +JAQUES I'll give you a verse to this note that I made + yesterday in despite of my invention. + +AMIENS And I'll sing it. + +JAQUES Thus it goes:-- + + If it do come to pass + That any man turn ass, + Leaving his wealth and ease, + A stubborn will to please, + Ducdame, ducdame, ducdame: + Here shall he see + Gross fools as he, + An if he will come to me. + +AMIENS What's that 'ducdame'? + +JAQUES 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools into a + circle. I'll go sleep, if I can; if I cannot, I'll + rail against all the first-born of Egypt. + +AMIENS And I'll go seek the duke: his banquet is prepared. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI The forest. + + + [Enter ORLANDO and ADAM] + +ADAM Dear master, I can go no further. O, I die for food! + Here lie I down, and measure out my grave. Farewell, + kind master. + +ORLANDO Why, how now, Adam! no greater heart in thee? Live + a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little. + If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage, I + will either be food for it or bring it for food to + thee. Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers. + For my sake be comfortable; hold death awhile at + the arm's end: I will here be with thee presently; + and if I bring thee not something to eat, I will + give thee leave to die: but if thou diest before I + come, thou art a mocker of my labour. Well said! + thou lookest cheerly, and I'll be with thee quickly. + Yet thou liest in the bleak air: come, I will bear + thee to some shelter; and thou shalt not die for + lack of a dinner, if there live any thing in this + desert. Cheerly, good Adam! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VII The forest. + + + [A table set out. Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, and + Lords like outlaws] + +DUKE SENIOR I think he be transform'd into a beast; + For I can no where find him like a man. + +First Lord My lord, he is but even now gone hence: + Here was he merry, hearing of a song. + +DUKE SENIOR If he, compact of jars, grow musical, + We shall have shortly discord in the spheres. + Go, seek him: tell him I would speak with him. + + [Enter JAQUES] + +First Lord He saves my labour by his own approach. + +DUKE SENIOR Why, how now, monsieur! what a life is this, + That your poor friends must woo your company? + What, you look merrily! + +JAQUES A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest, + A motley fool; a miserable world! + As I do live by food, I met a fool + Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, + And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms, + In good set terms and yet a motley fool. + 'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he, + 'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:' + And then he drew a dial from his poke, + And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, + Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: + Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags: + 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, + And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; + And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, + And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; + And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear + The motley fool thus moral on the time, + My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, + That fools should be so deep-contemplative, + And I did laugh sans intermission + An hour by his dial. O noble fool! + A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. + +DUKE SENIOR What fool is this? + +JAQUES O worthy fool! One that hath been a courtier, + And says, if ladies be but young and fair, + They have the gift to know it: and in his brain, + Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit + After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd + With observation, the which he vents + In mangled forms. O that I were a fool! + I am ambitious for a motley coat. + +DUKE SENIOR Thou shalt have one. + +JAQUES It is my only suit; + Provided that you weed your better judgments + Of all opinion that grows rank in them + That I am wise. I must have liberty + Withal, as large a charter as the wind, + To blow on whom I please; for so fools have; + And they that are most galled with my folly, + They most must laugh. And why, sir, must they so? + The 'why' is plain as way to parish church: + He that a fool doth very wisely hit + Doth very foolishly, although he smart, + Not to seem senseless of the bob: if not, + The wise man's folly is anatomized + Even by the squandering glances of the fool. + Invest me in my motley; give me leave + To speak my mind, and I will through and through + Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, + If they will patiently receive my medicine. + +DUKE SENIOR Fie on thee! I can tell what thou wouldst do. + +JAQUES What, for a counter, would I do but good? + +DUKE SENIOR Most mischievous foul sin, in chiding sin: + For thou thyself hast been a libertine, + As sensual as the brutish sting itself; + And all the embossed sores and headed evils, + That thou with licence of free foot hast caught, + Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world. + +JAQUES Why, who cries out on pride, + That can therein tax any private party? + Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea, + Till that the weary very means do ebb? + What woman in the city do I name, + When that I say the city-woman bears + The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders? + Who can come in and say that I mean her, + When such a one as she such is her neighbour? + Or what is he of basest function + That says his bravery is not of my cost, + Thinking that I mean him, but therein suits + His folly to the mettle of my speech? + There then; how then? what then? Let me see wherein + My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, + Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free, + Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies, + Unclaim'd of any man. But who comes here? + + [Enter ORLANDO, with his sword drawn] + +ORLANDO Forbear, and eat no more. + +JAQUES Why, I have eat none yet. + +ORLANDO Nor shalt not, till necessity be served. + +JAQUES Of what kind should this cock come of? + +DUKE SENIOR Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy distress, + Or else a rude despiser of good manners, + That in civility thou seem'st so empty? + +ORLANDO You touch'd my vein at first: the thorny point + Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show + Of smooth civility: yet am I inland bred + And know some nurture. But forbear, I say: + He dies that touches any of this fruit + Till I and my affairs are answered. + +JAQUES An you will not be answered with reason, I must die. + +DUKE SENIOR What would you have? Your gentleness shall force + More than your force move us to gentleness. + +ORLANDO I almost die for food; and let me have it. + +DUKE SENIOR Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table. + +ORLANDO Speak you so gently? Pardon me, I pray you: + I thought that all things had been savage here; + And therefore put I on the countenance + Of stern commandment. But whate'er you are + That in this desert inaccessible, + Under the shade of melancholy boughs, + Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time + If ever you have look'd on better days, + If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, + If ever sat at any good man's feast, + If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear + And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, + Let gentleness my strong enforcement be: + In the which hope I blush, and hide my sword. + +DUKE SENIOR True is it that we have seen better days, + And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church + And sat at good men's feasts and wiped our eyes + Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd: + And therefore sit you down in gentleness + And take upon command what help we have + That to your wanting may be minister'd. + +ORLANDO Then but forbear your food a little while, + Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn + And give it food. There is an old poor man, + Who after me hath many a weary step + Limp'd in pure love: till he be first sufficed, + Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger, + I will not touch a bit. + +DUKE SENIOR Go find him out, + And we will nothing waste till you return. + +ORLANDO I thank ye; and be blest for your good comfort! + + [Exit] + +DUKE SENIOR Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: + This wide and universal theatre + Presents more woeful pageants than the scene + Wherein we play in. + +JAQUES All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts, + His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, + Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. + And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel + And shining morning face, creeping like snail + Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, + Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad + Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, + Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, + Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, + Seeking the bubble reputation + Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, + In fair round belly with good capon lined, + With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, + Full of wise saws and modern instances; + And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts + Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, + With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, + His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide + For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, + Turning again toward childish treble, pipes + And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, + That ends this strange eventful history, + Is second childishness and mere oblivion, + Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. + + [Re-enter ORLANDO, with ADAM] + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome. Set down your venerable burthen, + And let him feed. + +ORLANDO I thank you most for him. + +ADAM So had you need: + I scarce can speak to thank you for myself. + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome; fall to: I will not trouble you + As yet, to question you about your fortunes. + Give us some music; and, good cousin, sing. + + SONG. +AMIENS Blow, blow, thou winter wind. + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude; + Thy tooth is not so keen, + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. + Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: + Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: + Then, heigh-ho, the holly! + This life is most jolly. + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + That dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot: + Though thou the waters warp, + Thy sting is not so sharp + As friend remember'd not. + Heigh-ho! sing, &c. + +DUKE SENIOR If that you were the good Sir Rowland's son, + As you have whisper'd faithfully you were, + And as mine eye doth his effigies witness + Most truly limn'd and living in your face, + Be truly welcome hither: I am the duke + That loved your father: the residue of your fortune, + Go to my cave and tell me. Good old man, + Thou art right welcome as thy master is. + Support him by the arm. Give me your hand, + And let me all your fortunes understand. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A room in the palace. + + + [Enter DUKE FREDERICK, Lords, and OLIVER] + +DUKE FREDERICK Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: + But were I not the better part made mercy, + I should not seek an absent argument + Of my revenge, thou present. But look to it: + Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is; + Seek him with candle; bring him dead or living + Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more + To seek a living in our territory. + Thy lands and all things that thou dost call thine + Worth seizure do we seize into our hands, + Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth + Of what we think against thee. + +OLIVER O that your highness knew my heart in this! + I never loved my brother in my life. + +DUKE FREDERICK More villain thou. Well, push him out of doors; + And let my officers of such a nature + Make an extent upon his house and lands: + Do this expediently and turn him going. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [Enter ORLANDO, with a paper] + +ORLANDO Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love: + And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey + With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, + Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. + O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books + And in their barks my thoughts I'll character; + That every eye which in this forest looks + Shall see thy virtue witness'd every where. + Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree + The fair, the chaste and unexpressive she. + + [Exit] + + [Enter CORIN and TOUCHSTONE] + +CORIN And how like you this shepherd's life, Master Touchstone? + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, it is a good + life, but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, + it is naught. In respect that it is solitary, I + like it very well; but in respect that it is + private, it is a very vile life. Now, in respect it + is in the fields, it pleaseth me well; but in + respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. As + is it a spare life, look you, it fits my humour well; + but as there is no more plenty in it, it goes much + against my stomach. Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? + +CORIN No more but that I know the more one sickens the + worse at ease he is; and that he that wants money, + means and content is without three good friends; + that the property of rain is to wet and fire to + burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and that a + great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that + he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may + complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred. + +TOUCHSTONE Such a one is a natural philosopher. Wast ever in + court, shepherd? + +CORIN No, truly. + +TOUCHSTONE Then thou art damned. + +CORIN Nay, I hope. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, thou art damned like an ill-roasted egg, all + on one side. + +CORIN For not being at court? Your reason. + +TOUCHSTONE Why, if thou never wast at court, thou never sawest + good manners; if thou never sawest good manners, + then thy manners must be wicked; and wickedness is + sin, and sin is damnation. Thou art in a parlous + state, shepherd. + +CORIN Not a whit, Touchstone: those that are good manners + at the court are as ridiculous in the country as the + behavior of the country is most mockable at the + court. You told me you salute not at the court, but + you kiss your hands: that courtesy would be + uncleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. + +TOUCHSTONE Instance, briefly; come, instance. + +CORIN Why, we are still handling our ewes, and their + fells, you know, are greasy. + +TOUCHSTONE Why, do not your courtier's hands sweat? and is not + the grease of a mutton as wholesome as the sweat of + a man? Shallow, shallow. A better instance, I say; come. + +CORIN Besides, our hands are hard. + +TOUCHSTONE Your lips will feel them the sooner. Shallow again. + A more sounder instance, come. + +CORIN And they are often tarred over with the surgery of + our sheep: and would you have us kiss tar? The + courtier's hands are perfumed with civet. + +TOUCHSTONE Most shallow man! thou worms-meat, in respect of a + good piece of flesh indeed! Learn of the wise, and + perpend: civet is of a baser birth than tar, the + very uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance, shepherd. + +CORIN You have too courtly a wit for me: I'll rest. + +TOUCHSTONE Wilt thou rest damned? God help thee, shallow man! + God make incision in thee! thou art raw. + +CORIN Sir, I am a true labourer: I earn that I eat, get + that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's + happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my + harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see my ewes + graze and my lambs suck. + +TOUCHSTONE That is another simple sin in you, to bring the ewes + and the rams together and to offer to get your + living by the copulation of cattle; to be bawd to a + bell-wether, and to betray a she-lamb of a + twelvemonth to a crooked-pated, old, cuckoldly ram, + out of all reasonable match. If thou beest not + damned for this, the devil himself will have no + shepherds; I cannot see else how thou shouldst + 'scape. + +CORIN Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother. + + [Enter ROSALIND, with a paper, reading] + +ROSALIND From the east to western Ind, + No jewel is like Rosalind. + Her worth, being mounted on the wind, + Through all the world bears Rosalind. + All the pictures fairest lined + Are but black to Rosalind. + Let no fair be kept in mind + But the fair of Rosalind. + +TOUCHSTONE I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners and + suppers and sleeping-hours excepted: it is the + right butter-women's rank to market. + +ROSALIND Out, fool! + +TOUCHSTONE For a taste: + If a hart do lack a hind, + Let him seek out Rosalind. + If the cat will after kind, + So be sure will Rosalind. + Winter garments must be lined, + So must slender Rosalind. + They that reap must sheaf and bind; + Then to cart with Rosalind. + Sweetest nut hath sourest rind, + Such a nut is Rosalind. + He that sweetest rose will find + Must find love's prick and Rosalind. + This is the very false gallop of verses: why do you + infect yourself with them? + +ROSALIND Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. + +ROSALIND I'll graff it with you, and then I shall graff it + with a medlar: then it will be the earliest fruit + i' the country; for you'll be rotten ere you be half + ripe, and that's the right virtue of the medlar. + +TOUCHSTONE You have said; but whether wisely or no, let the + forest judge. + + [Enter CELIA, with a writing] + +ROSALIND Peace! Here comes my sister, reading: stand aside. + +CELIA [Reads] + + Why should this a desert be? + For it is unpeopled? No: + Tongues I'll hang on every tree, + That shall civil sayings show: + Some, how brief the life of man + Runs his erring pilgrimage, + That the stretching of a span + Buckles in his sum of age; + Some, of violated vows + 'Twixt the souls of friend and friend: + But upon the fairest boughs, + Or at every sentence end, + Will I Rosalinda write, + Teaching all that read to know + The quintessence of every sprite + Heaven would in little show. + Therefore Heaven Nature charged + That one body should be fill'd + With all graces wide-enlarged: + Nature presently distill'd + Helen's cheek, but not her heart, + Cleopatra's majesty, + Atalanta's better part, + Sad Lucretia's modesty. + Thus Rosalind of many parts + By heavenly synod was devised, + Of many faces, eyes and hearts, + To have the touches dearest prized. + Heaven would that she these gifts should have, + And I to live and die her slave. + +ROSALIND O most gentle pulpiter! what tedious homily of love + have you wearied your parishioners withal, and never + cried 'Have patience, good people!' + +CELIA How now! back, friends! Shepherd, go off a little. + Go with him, sirrah. + +TOUCHSTONE Come, shepherd, let us make an honourable retreat; + though not with bag and baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. + + [Exeunt CORIN and TOUCHSTONE] + +CELIA Didst thou hear these verses? + +ROSALIND O, yes, I heard them all, and more too; for some of + them had in them more feet than the verses would bear. + +CELIA That's no matter: the feet might bear the verses. + +ROSALIND Ay, but the feet were lame and could not bear + themselves without the verse and therefore stood + lamely in the verse. + +CELIA But didst thou hear without wondering how thy name + should be hanged and carved upon these trees? + +ROSALIND I was seven of the nine days out of the wonder + before you came; for look here what I found on a + palm-tree. I was never so be-rhymed since + Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat, which I + can hardly remember. + +CELIA Trow you who hath done this? + +ROSALIND Is it a man? + +CELIA And a chain, that you once wore, about his neck. + Change you colour? + +ROSALIND I prithee, who? + +CELIA O Lord, Lord! it is a hard matter for friends to + meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes + and so encounter. + +ROSALIND Nay, but who is it? + +CELIA Is it possible? + +ROSALIND Nay, I prithee now with most petitionary vehemence, + tell me who it is. + +CELIA O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful + wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, + out of all hooping! + +ROSALIND Good my complexion! dost thou think, though I am + caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet and hose in + my disposition? One inch of delay more is a + South-sea of discovery; I prithee, tell me who is it + quickly, and speak apace. I would thou couldst + stammer, that thou mightst pour this concealed man + out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of a narrow- + mouthed bottle, either too much at once, or none at + all. I prithee, take the cork out of thy mouth that + may drink thy tidings. + +CELIA So you may put a man in your belly. + +ROSALIND Is he of God's making? What manner of man? Is his + head worth a hat, or his chin worth a beard? + +CELIA Nay, he hath but a little beard. + +ROSALIND Why, God will send more, if the man will be + thankful: let me stay the growth of his beard, if + thou delay me not the knowledge of his chin. + +CELIA It is young Orlando, that tripped up the wrestler's + heels and your heart both in an instant. + +ROSALIND Nay, but the devil take mocking: speak, sad brow and + true maid. + +CELIA I' faith, coz, 'tis he. + +ROSALIND Orlando? + +CELIA Orlando. + +ROSALIND Alas the day! what shall I do with my doublet and + hose? What did he when thou sawest him? What said + he? How looked he? Wherein went he? What makes + him here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? + How parted he with thee? and when shalt thou see + him again? Answer me in one word. + +CELIA You must borrow me Gargantua's mouth first: 'tis a + word too great for any mouth of this age's size. To + say ay and no to these particulars is more than to + answer in a catechism. + +ROSALIND But doth he know that I am in this forest and in + man's apparel? Looks he as freshly as he did the + day he wrestled? + +CELIA It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the + propositions of a lover; but take a taste of my + finding him, and relish it with good observance. + 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. + +CELIA Give me audience, good madam. + +ROSALIND Proceed. + +CELIA There lay he, stretched along, like a wounded knight. + +ROSALIND Though it be pity to see such a sight, it well + becomes the ground. + +CELIA Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, I prithee; it curvets + unseasonably. He was furnished like a hunter. + +ROSALIND O, ominous! he comes to kill my heart. + +CELIA I would sing my song without a burden: thou bringest + me out of tune. + +ROSALIND Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must + speak. Sweet, say on. + +CELIA You bring me out. Soft! comes he not here? + + [Enter ORLANDO and JAQUES] + +ROSALIND 'Tis he: slink by, and note him. + +JAQUES I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had + as lief have been myself alone. + +ORLANDO And so had I; but yet, for fashion sake, I thank you + too for your society. + +JAQUES God be wi' you: let's meet as little as we can. + +ORLANDO I do desire we may be better strangers. + +JAQUES I pray you, mar no more trees with writing + love-songs in their barks. + +ORLANDO I pray you, mar no more of my verses with reading + them ill-favouredly. + +JAQUES Rosalind is your love's name? + +ORLANDO Yes, just. + +JAQUES I do not like her name. + +ORLANDO There was no thought of pleasing you when she was + christened. + +JAQUES What stature is she of? + +ORLANDO Just as high as my heart. + +JAQUES You are full of pretty answers. Have you not been + acquainted with goldsmiths' wives, and conned them + out of rings? + +ORLANDO Not so; but I answer you right painted cloth, from + whence you have studied your questions. + +JAQUES You have a nimble wit: I think 'twas made of + Atalanta's heels. Will you sit down with me? and + we two will rail against our mistress the world and + all our misery. + +ORLANDO I will chide no breather in the world but myself, + against whom I know most faults. + +JAQUES The worst fault you have is to be in love. + +ORLANDO 'Tis a fault I will not change for your best virtue. + I am weary of you. + +JAQUES By my troth, I was seeking for a fool when I found + you. + +ORLANDO He is drowned in the brook: look but in, and you + shall see him. + +JAQUES There I shall see mine own figure. + +ORLANDO Which I take to be either a fool or a cipher. + +JAQUES I'll tarry no longer with you: farewell, good + Signior Love. + +ORLANDO I am glad of your departure: adieu, good Monsieur + Melancholy. + + [Exit JAQUES] + +ROSALIND [Aside to CELIA] I will speak to him, like a saucy + lackey and under that habit play the knave with him. + Do you hear, forester? + +ORLANDO Very well: what would you? + +ROSALIND I pray you, what is't o'clock? + +ORLANDO You should ask me what time o' day: there's no clock + in the forest. + +ROSALIND Then there is no true lover in the forest; else + sighing every minute and groaning every hour would + detect the lazy foot of Time as well as a clock. + +ORLANDO And why not the swift foot of Time? had not that + been as proper? + +ROSALIND By no means, sir: Time travels in divers paces with + divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles + withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops + withal and who he stands still withal. + +ORLANDO I prithee, who doth he trot withal? + +ROSALIND Marry, he trots hard with a young maid between the + contract of her marriage and the day it is + solemnized: if the interim be but a se'nnight, + Time's pace is so hard that it seems the length of + seven year. + +ORLANDO Who ambles Time withal? + +ROSALIND With a priest that lacks Latin and a rich man that + hath not the gout, for the one sleeps easily because + he cannot study, and the other lives merrily because + he feels no pain, the one lacking the burden of lean + and wasteful learning, the other knowing no burden + of heavy tedious penury; these Time ambles withal. + +ORLANDO Who doth he gallop withal? + +ROSALIND With a thief to the gallows, for though he go as + softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon there. + +ORLANDO Who stays it still withal? + +ROSALIND With lawyers in the vacation, for they sleep between + term and term and then they perceive not how Time moves. + +ORLANDO Where dwell you, pretty youth? + +ROSALIND With this shepherdess, my sister; here in the + skirts of the forest, like fringe upon a petticoat. + +ORLANDO Are you native of this place? + +ROSALIND As the cony that you see dwell where she is kindled. + +ORLANDO Your accent is something finer than you could + purchase in so removed a dwelling. + +ROSALIND I have been told so of many: but indeed an old + religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was + in his youth an inland man; one that knew courtship + too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard + him read many lectures against it, and I thank God + I am not a woman, to be touched with so many + giddy offences as he hath generally taxed their + whole sex withal. + +ORLANDO Can you remember any of the principal evils that he + laid to the charge of women? + +ROSALIND There were none principal; they were all like one + another as half-pence are, every one fault seeming + monstrous till his fellow fault came to match it. + +ORLANDO I prithee, recount some of them. + +ROSALIND No, I will not cast away my physic but on those that + are sick. There is a man haunts the forest, that + abuses our young plants with carving 'Rosalind' on + their barks; hangs odes upon hawthorns and elegies + on brambles, all, forsooth, deifying the name of + Rosalind: if I could meet that fancy-monger I would + give him some good counsel, for he seems to have the + quotidian of love upon him. + +ORLANDO I am he that is so love-shaked: I pray you tell me + your remedy. + +ROSALIND There is none of my uncle's marks upon you: he + taught me how to know a man in love; in which cage + of rushes I am sure you are not prisoner. + +ORLANDO What were his marks? + +ROSALIND A lean cheek, which you have not, a blue eye and + sunken, which you have not, an unquestionable + spirit, which you have not, a beard neglected, + which you have not; but I pardon you for that, for + simply your having in beard is a younger brother's + revenue: then your hose should be ungartered, your + bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your shoe + untied and every thing about you demonstrating a + careless desolation; but you are no such man; you + are rather point-device in your accoutrements as + loving yourself than seeming the lover of any other. + +ORLANDO Fair youth, I would I could make thee believe I love. + +ROSALIND Me believe it! you may as soon make her that you + love believe it; which, I warrant, she is apter to + do than to confess she does: that is one of the + points in the which women still give the lie to + their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he + that hangs the verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind + is so admired? + +ORLANDO I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of + Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he. + +ROSALIND But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak? + +ORLANDO Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much. + +ROSALIND Love is merely a madness, and, I tell you, deserves + as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and + the reason why they are not so punished and cured + is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers + are in love too. Yet I profess curing it by counsel. + +ORLANDO Did you ever cure any so? + +ROSALIND Yes, one, and in this manner. He was to imagine me + his love, his mistress; and I set him every day to + woo me: at which time would I, being but a moonish + youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing + and liking, proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, + inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles, for every + passion something and for no passion truly any + thing, as boys and women are for the most part + cattle of this colour; would now like him, now loathe + him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep + for him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor + from his mad humour of love to a living humour of + madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of + the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic. + And thus I cured him; and this way will I take upon + me to wash your liver as clean as a sound sheep's + heart, that there shall not be one spot of love in't. + +ORLANDO I would not be cured, youth. + +ROSALIND I would cure you, if you would but call me Rosalind + and come every day to my cote and woo me. + +ORLANDO Now, by the faith of my love, I will: tell me + where it is. + +ROSALIND Go with me to it and I'll show it you and by the way + you shall tell me where in the forest you live. + Will you go? + +ORLANDO With all my heart, good youth. + +ROSALIND Nay you must call me Rosalind. Come, sister, will you go? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY; JAQUES behind] + +TOUCHSTONE Come apace, good Audrey: I will fetch up your + goats, Audrey. And how, Audrey? am I the man yet? + doth my simple feature content you? + +AUDREY Your features! Lord warrant us! what features! + +TOUCHSTONE I am here with thee and thy goats, as the most + capricious poet, honest Ovid, was among the Goths. + +JAQUES [Aside] O knowledge ill-inhabited, worse than Jove + in a thatched house! + +TOUCHSTONE When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a + man's good wit seconded with the forward child + Understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a + great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would + the gods had made thee poetical. + +AUDREY I do not know what 'poetical' is: is it honest in + deed and word? is it a true thing? + +TOUCHSTONE No, truly; for the truest poetry is the most + feigning; and lovers are given to poetry, and what + they swear in poetry may be said as lovers they do feign. + +AUDREY Do you wish then that the gods had made me poetical? + +TOUCHSTONE I do, truly; for thou swearest to me thou art + honest: now, if thou wert a poet, I might have some + hope thou didst feign. + +AUDREY Would you not have me honest? + +TOUCHSTONE No, truly, unless thou wert hard-favoured; for + honesty coupled to beauty is to have honey a sauce to sugar. + +JAQUES [Aside] A material fool! + +AUDREY Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods + make me honest. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, and to cast away honesty upon a foul slut + were to put good meat into an unclean dish. + +AUDREY I am not a slut, though I thank the gods I am foul. + +TOUCHSTONE Well, praised be the gods for thy foulness! + sluttishness may come hereafter. But be it as it may + be, I will marry thee, and to that end I have been + with Sir Oliver Martext, the vicar of the next + village, who hath promised to meet me in this place + of the forest and to couple us. + +JAQUES [Aside] I would fain see this meeting. + +AUDREY Well, the gods give us joy! + +TOUCHSTONE Amen. A man may, if he were of a fearful heart, + stagger in this attempt; for here we have no temple + but the wood, no assembly but horn-beasts. But what + though? Courage! As horns are odious, they are + necessary. It is said, 'many a man knows no end of + his goods:' right; many a man has good horns, and + knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowry of + his wife; 'tis none of his own getting. Horns? + Even so. Poor men alone? No, no; the noblest deer + hath them as huge as the rascal. Is the single man + therefore blessed? No: as a walled town is more + worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a + married man more honourable than the bare brow of a + bachelor; and by how much defence is better than no + skill, by so much is a horn more precious than to + want. Here comes Sir Oliver. + + [Enter SIR OLIVER MARTEXT] + + Sir Oliver Martext, you are well met: will you + dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go + with you to your chapel? + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Is there none here to give the woman? + +TOUCHSTONE I will not take her on gift of any man. + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. + +JAQUES [Advancing] + + Proceed, proceed I'll give her. + +TOUCHSTONE Good even, good Master What-ye-call't: how do you, + sir? You are very well met: God 'ild you for your + last company: I am very glad to see you: even a + toy in hand here, sir: nay, pray be covered. + +JAQUES Will you be married, motley? + +TOUCHSTONE As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb and + the falcon her bells, so man hath his desires; and + as pigeons bill, so wedlock would be nibbling. + +JAQUES And will you, being a man of your breeding, be + married under a bush like a beggar? Get you to + church, and have a good priest that can tell you + what marriage is: this fellow will but join you + together as they join wainscot; then one of you will + prove a shrunk panel and, like green timber, warp, warp. + +TOUCHSTONE [Aside] I am not in the mind but I were better to be + married of him than of another: for he is not like + to marry me well; and not being well married, it + will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. + +JAQUES Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. + +TOUCHSTONE 'Come, sweet Audrey: + We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. + Farewell, good Master Oliver: not,-- + O sweet Oliver, + O brave Oliver, + Leave me not behind thee: but,-- + Wind away, + Begone, I say, + I will not to wedding with thee. + + [Exeunt JAQUES, TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +SIR OLIVER MARTEXT 'Tis no matter: ne'er a fantastical knave of them + all shall flout me out of my calling. + + [Exit] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ROSALIND Never talk to me; I will weep. + +CELIA Do, I prithee; but yet have the grace to consider + that tears do not become a man. + +ROSALIND But have I not cause to weep? + +CELIA As good cause as one would desire; therefore weep. + +ROSALIND His very hair is of the dissembling colour. + +CELIA Something browner than Judas's marry, his kisses are + Judas's own children. + +ROSALIND I' faith, his hair is of a good colour. + +CELIA An excellent colour: your chestnut was ever the only colour. + +ROSALIND And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch + of holy bread. + +CELIA He hath bought a pair of cast lips of Diana: a nun + of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; + the very ice of chastity is in them. + +ROSALIND But why did he swear he would come this morning, and + comes not? + +CELIA Nay, certainly, there is no truth in him. + +ROSALIND Do you think so? + +CELIA Yes; I think he is not a pick-purse nor a + horse-stealer, but for his verity in love, I do + think him as concave as a covered goblet or a + worm-eaten nut. + +ROSALIND Not true in love? + +CELIA Yes, when he is in; but I think he is not in. + +ROSALIND You have heard him swear downright he was. + +CELIA 'Was' is not 'is:' besides, the oath of a lover is + no stronger than the word of a tapster; they are + both the confirmer of false reckonings. He attends + here in the forest on the duke your father. + +ROSALIND I met the duke yesterday and had much question with + him: he asked me of what parentage I was; I told + him, of as good as he; so he laughed and let me go. + But what talk we of fathers, when there is such a + man as Orlando? + +CELIA O, that's a brave man! he writes brave verses, + speaks brave words, swears brave oaths and breaks + them bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of + his lover; as a puisny tilter, that spurs his horse + but on one side, breaks his staff like a noble + goose: but all's brave that youth mounts and folly + guides. Who comes here? + + [Enter CORIN] + +CORIN Mistress and master, you have oft inquired + After the shepherd that complain'd of love, + Who you saw sitting by me on the turf, + Praising the proud disdainful shepherdess + That was his mistress. + +CELIA Well, and what of him? + +CORIN If you will see a pageant truly play'd, + Between the pale complexion of true love + And the red glow of scorn and proud disdain, + Go hence a little and I shall conduct you, + If you will mark it. + +ROSALIND O, come, let us remove: + The sight of lovers feedeth those in love. + Bring us to this sight, and you shall say + I'll prove a busy actor in their play. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Another part of the forest. + + + [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me; do not, Phebe; + Say that you love me not, but say not so + In bitterness. The common executioner, + Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard, + Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck + But first begs pardon: will you sterner be + Than he that dies and lives by bloody drops? + + [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and CORIN, behind] + +PHEBE I would not be thy executioner: + I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. + Thou tell'st me there is murder in mine eye: + 'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, + That eyes, that are the frail'st and softest things, + Who shut their coward gates on atomies, + Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers! + Now I do frown on thee with all my heart; + And if mine eyes can wound, now let them kill thee: + Now counterfeit to swoon; why now fall down; + Or if thou canst not, O, for shame, for shame, + Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers! + Now show the wound mine eye hath made in thee: + Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remains + Some scar of it; lean but upon a rush, + The cicatrice and capable impressure + Thy palm some moment keeps; but now mine eyes, + Which I have darted at thee, hurt thee not, + Nor, I am sure, there is no force in eyes + That can do hurt. + +SILVIUS O dear Phebe, + If ever,--as that ever may be near,-- + You meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, + Then shall you know the wounds invisible + That love's keen arrows make. + +PHEBE But till that time + Come not thou near me: and when that time comes, + Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not; + As till that time I shall not pity thee. + +ROSALIND And why, I pray you? Who might be your mother, + That you insult, exult, and all at once, + Over the wretched? What though you have no beauty,-- + As, by my faith, I see no more in you + Than without candle may go dark to bed-- + Must you be therefore proud and pitiless? + Why, what means this? Why do you look on me? + I see no more in you than in the ordinary + Of nature's sale-work. 'Od's my little life, + I think she means to tangle my eyes too! + No, faith, proud mistress, hope not after it: + 'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, + Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, + That can entame my spirits to your worship. + You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow her, + Like foggy south puffing with wind and rain? + You are a thousand times a properer man + Than she a woman: 'tis such fools as you + That makes the world full of ill-favour'd children: + 'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her; + And out of you she sees herself more proper + Than any of her lineaments can show her. + But, mistress, know yourself: down on your knees, + And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love: + For I must tell you friendly in your ear, + Sell when you can: you are not for all markets: + Cry the man mercy; love him; take his offer: + Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. + So take her to thee, shepherd: fare you well. + +PHEBE Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year together: + I had rather hear you chide than this man woo. + +ROSALIND He's fallen in love with your foulness and she'll + fall in love with my anger. If it be so, as fast as + she answers thee with frowning looks, I'll sauce her + with bitter words. Why look you so upon me? + +PHEBE For no ill will I bear you. + +ROSALIND I pray you, do not fall in love with me, + For I am falser than vows made in wine: + Besides, I like you not. If you will know my house, + 'Tis at the tuft of olives here hard by. + Will you go, sister? Shepherd, ply her hard. + Come, sister. Shepherdess, look on him better, + And be not proud: though all the world could see, + None could be so abused in sight as he. + Come, to our flock. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND, CELIA and CORIN] + +PHEBE Dead Shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, + 'Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?' + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe,-- + +PHEBE Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS Sweet Phebe, pity me. + +PHEBE Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. + +SILVIUS Wherever sorrow is, relief would be: + If you do sorrow at my grief in love, + By giving love your sorrow and my grief + Were both extermined. + +PHEBE Thou hast my love: is not that neighbourly? + +SILVIUS I would have you. + +PHEBE Why, that were covetousness. + Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, + And yet it is not that I bear thee love; + But since that thou canst talk of love so well, + Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, + I will endure, and I'll employ thee too: + But do not look for further recompense + Than thine own gladness that thou art employ'd. + +SILVIUS So holy and so perfect is my love, + And I in such a poverty of grace, + That I shall think it a most plenteous crop + To glean the broken ears after the man + That the main harvest reaps: loose now and then + A scatter'd smile, and that I'll live upon. + +PHEBE Know'st now the youth that spoke to me erewhile? + +SILVIUS Not very well, but I have met him oft; + And he hath bought the cottage and the bounds + That the old carlot once was master of. + +PHEBE Think not I love him, though I ask for him: + 'Tis but a peevish boy; yet he talks well; + But what care I for words? yet words do well + When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. + It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: + But, sure, he's proud, and yet his pride becomes him: + He'll make a proper man: the best thing in him + Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue + Did make offence his eye did heal it up. + He is not very tall; yet for his years he's tall: + His leg is but so so; and yet 'tis well: + There was a pretty redness in his lip, + A little riper and more lusty red + Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the difference + Between the constant red and mingled damask. + There be some women, Silvius, had they mark'd him + In parcels as I did, would have gone near + To fall in love with him; but, for my part, + I love him not nor hate him not; and yet + I have more cause to hate him than to love him: + For what had he to do to chide at me? + He said mine eyes were black and my hair black: + And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: + I marvel why I answer'd not again: + But that's all one; omittance is no quittance. + I'll write to him a very taunting letter, + And thou shalt bear it: wilt thou, Silvius? + +SILVIUS Phebe, with all my heart. + +PHEBE I'll write it straight; + The matter's in my head and in my heart: + I will be bitter with him and passing short. + Go with me, Silvius. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND, CELIA, and JAQUES] + +JAQUES I prithee, pretty youth, let me be better acquainted + with thee. + +ROSALIND They say you are a melancholy fellow. + +JAQUES I am so; I do love it better than laughing. + +ROSALIND Those that are in extremity of either are abominable + fellows and betray themselves to every modern + censure worse than drunkards. + +JAQUES Why, 'tis good to be sad and say nothing. + +ROSALIND Why then, 'tis good to be a post. + +JAQUES I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is + emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, + nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the + soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, + which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor + the lover's, which is all these: but it is a + melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, + extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry's + contemplation of my travels, in which my often + rumination wraps me m a most humorous sadness. + +ROSALIND A traveller! By my faith, you have great reason to + be sad: I fear you have sold your own lands to see + other men's; then, to have seen much and to have + nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. + +JAQUES Yes, I have gained my experience. + +ROSALIND And your experience makes you sad: I had rather have + a fool to make me merry than experience to make me + sad; and to travel for it too! + + [Enter ORLANDO] + +ORLANDO Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind! + +JAQUES Nay, then, God be wi' you, an you talk in blank verse. + + [Exit] + +ROSALIND Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: look you lisp and + wear strange suits, disable all the benefits of your + own country, be out of love with your nativity and + almost chide God for making you that countenance you + are, or I will scarce think you have swam in a + gondola. Why, how now, Orlando! where have you been + all this while? You a lover! An you serve me such + another trick, never come in my sight more. + +ORLANDO My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. + +ROSALIND Break an hour's promise in love! He that will + divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but + a part of the thousandth part of a minute in the + affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid + hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll warrant + him heart-whole. + +ORLANDO Pardon me, dear Rosalind. + +ROSALIND Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight: I + had as lief be wooed of a snail. + +ORLANDO Of a snail? + +ROSALIND Ay, of a snail; for though he comes slowly, he + carries his house on his head; a better jointure, + I think, than you make a woman: besides he brings + his destiny with him. + +ORLANDO What's that? + +ROSALIND Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be + beholding to your wives for: but he comes armed in + his fortune and prevents the slander of his wife. + +ORLANDO Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. + +ROSALIND And I am your Rosalind. + +CELIA It pleases him to call you so; but he hath a + Rosalind of a better leer than you. + +ROSALIND Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday + humour and like enough to consent. What would you + say to me now, an I were your very very Rosalind? + +ORLANDO I would kiss before I spoke. + +ROSALIND Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were + gravelled for lack of matter, you might take + occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are + out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking--God + warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss. + +ORLANDO How if the kiss be denied? + +ROSALIND Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter. + +ORLANDO Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? + +ROSALIND Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or + I should think my honesty ranker than my wit. + +ORLANDO What, of my suit? + +ROSALIND Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. + Am not I your Rosalind? + +ORLANDO I take some joy to say you are, because I would be + talking of her. + +ROSALIND Well in her person I say I will not have you. + +ORLANDO Then in mine own person I die. + +ROSALIND No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is + almost six thousand years old, and in all this time + there was not any man died in his own person, + videlicit, in a love-cause. Troilus had his brains + dashed out with a Grecian club; yet he did what he + could to die before, and he is one of the patterns + of love. Leander, he would have lived many a fair + year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had not been + for a hot midsummer night; for, good youth, he went + but forth to wash him in the Hellespont and being + taken with the cramp was drowned and the foolish + coroners of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos.' + But these are all lies: men have died from time to + time and worms have eaten them, but not for love. + +ORLANDO I would not have my right Rosalind of this mind, + for, I protest, her frown might kill me. + +ROSALIND By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now + I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on + disposition, and ask me what you will. I will grant + it. + +ORLANDO Then love me, Rosalind. + +ROSALIND Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. + +ORLANDO And wilt thou have me? + +ROSALIND Ay, and twenty such. + +ORLANDO What sayest thou? + +ROSALIND Are you not good? + +ORLANDO I hope so. + +ROSALIND Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? + Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. + Give me your hand, Orlando. What do you say, sister? + +ORLANDO Pray thee, marry us. + +CELIA I cannot say the words. + +ROSALIND You must begin, 'Will you, Orlando--' + +CELIA Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Rosalind? + +ORLANDO I will. + +ROSALIND Ay, but when? + +ORLANDO Why now; as fast as she can marry us. + +ROSALIND Then you must say 'I take thee, Rosalind, for wife.' + +ORLANDO I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. + +ROSALIND I might ask you for your commission; but I do take + thee, Orlando, for my husband: there's a girl goes + before the priest; and certainly a woman's thought + runs before her actions. + +ORLANDO So do all thoughts; they are winged. + +ROSALIND Now tell me how long you would have her after you + have possessed her. + +ORLANDO For ever and a day. + +ROSALIND Say 'a day,' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando; + men are April when they woo, December when they wed: + maids are May when they are maids, but the sky + changes when they are wives. I will be more jealous + of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen, + more clamorous than a parrot against rain, more + new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires + than a monkey: I will weep for nothing, like Diana + in the fountain, and I will do that when you are + disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and + that when thou art inclined to sleep. + +ORLANDO But will my Rosalind do so? + +ROSALIND By my life, she will do as I do. + +ORLANDO O, but she is wise. + +ROSALIND Or else she could not have the wit to do this: the + wiser, the waywarder: make the doors upon a woman's + wit and it will out at the casement; shut that and + 'twill out at the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly + with the smoke out at the chimney. + +ORLANDO A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say + 'Wit, whither wilt?' + +ROSALIND Nay, you might keep that cheque for it till you met + your wife's wit going to your neighbour's bed. + +ORLANDO And what wit could wit have to excuse that? + +ROSALIND Marry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall + never take her without her answer, unless you take + her without her tongue. O, that woman that cannot + make her fault her husband's occasion, let her + never nurse her child herself, for she will breed + it like a fool! + +ORLANDO For these two hours, Rosalind, I will leave thee. + +ROSALIND Alas! dear love, I cannot lack thee two hours. + +ORLANDO I must attend the duke at dinner: by two o'clock I + will be with thee again. + +ROSALIND Ay, go your ways, go your ways; I knew what you + would prove: my friends told me as much, and I + thought no less: that flattering tongue of yours + won me: 'tis but one cast away, and so, come, + death! Two o'clock is your hour? + +ORLANDO Ay, sweet Rosalind. + +ROSALIND By my troth, and in good earnest, and so God mend + me, and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, + if you break one jot of your promise or come one + minute behind your hour, I will think you the most + pathetical break-promise and the most hollow lover + and the most unworthy of her you call Rosalind that + may be chosen out of the gross band of the + unfaithful: therefore beware my censure and keep + your promise. + +ORLANDO With no less religion than if thou wert indeed my + Rosalind: so adieu. + +ROSALIND Well, Time is the old justice that examines all such + offenders, and let Time try: adieu. + + [Exit ORLANDO] + +CELIA You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate: + we must have your doublet and hose plucked over your + head, and show the world what the bird hath done to + her own nest. + +ROSALIND O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou + didst know how many fathom deep I am in love! But + it cannot be sounded: my affection hath an unknown + bottom, like the bay of Portugal. + +CELIA Or rather, bottomless, that as fast as you pour + affection in, it runs out. + +ROSALIND No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot + of thought, conceived of spleen and born of madness, + that blind rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes + because his own are out, let him be judge how deep I + am in love. I'll tell thee, Aliena, I cannot be out + of the sight of Orlando: I'll go find a shadow and + sigh till he come. + +CELIA And I'll sleep. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [Enter JAQUES, Lords, and Foresters] + +JAQUES Which is he that killed the deer? + +A Lord Sir, it was I. + +JAQUES Let's present him to the duke, like a Roman + conqueror; and it would do well to set the deer's + horns upon his head, for a branch of victory. Have + you no song, forester, for this purpose? + +Forester Yes, sir. + +JAQUES Sing it: 'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it + make noise enough. + + SONG. +Forester What shall he have that kill'd the deer? + His leather skin and horns to wear. + Then sing him home; + + [The rest shall bear this burden] + + Take thou no scorn to wear the horn; + It was a crest ere thou wast born: + Thy father's father wore it, + And thy father bore it: + The horn, the horn, the lusty horn + Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter ROSALIND and CELIA] + +ROSALIND How say you now? Is it not past two o'clock? and + here much Orlando! + +CELIA I warrant you, with pure love and troubled brain, he + hath ta'en his bow and arrows and is gone forth to + sleep. Look, who comes here. + + [Enter SILVIUS] + +SILVIUS My errand is to you, fair youth; + My gentle Phebe bid me give you this: + I know not the contents; but, as I guess + By the stern brow and waspish action + Which she did use as she was writing of it, + It bears an angry tenor: pardon me: + I am but as a guiltless messenger. + +ROSALIND Patience herself would startle at this letter + And play the swaggerer; bear this, bear all: + She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; + She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, + Were man as rare as phoenix. 'Od's my will! + Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: + Why writes she so to me? Well, shepherd, well, + This is a letter of your own device. + +SILVIUS No, I protest, I know not the contents: + Phebe did write it. + +ROSALIND Come, come, you are a fool + And turn'd into the extremity of love. + I saw her hand: she has a leathern hand. + A freestone-colour'd hand; I verily did think + That her old gloves were on, but 'twas her hands: + She has a huswife's hand; but that's no matter: + I say she never did invent this letter; + This is a man's invention and his hand. + +SILVIUS Sure, it is hers. + +ROSALIND Why, 'tis a boisterous and a cruel style. + A style for-challengers; why, she defies me, + Like Turk to Christian: women's gentle brain + Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention + Such Ethiope words, blacker in their effect + Than in their countenance. Will you hear the letter? + +SILVIUS So please you, for I never heard it yet; + Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. + +ROSALIND She Phebes me: mark how the tyrant writes. + + [Reads] + + Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, + That a maiden's heart hath burn'd? + Can a woman rail thus? + +SILVIUS Call you this railing? + +ROSALIND [Reads] + + Why, thy godhead laid apart, + Warr'st thou with a woman's heart? + Did you ever hear such railing? + Whiles the eye of man did woo me, + That could do no vengeance to me. + Meaning me a beast. + If the scorn of your bright eyne + Have power to raise such love in mine, + Alack, in me what strange effect + Would they work in mild aspect! + Whiles you chid me, I did love; + How then might your prayers move! + He that brings this love to thee + Little knows this love in me: + And by him seal up thy mind; + Whether that thy youth and kind + Will the faithful offer take + Of me and all that I can make; + Or else by him my love deny, + And then I'll study how to die. + +SILVIUS Call you this chiding? + +CELIA Alas, poor shepherd! + +ROSALIND Do you pity him? no, he deserves no pity. Wilt + thou love such a woman? What, to make thee an + instrument and play false strains upon thee! not to + be endured! Well, go your way to her, for I see + love hath made thee a tame snake, and say this to + her: that if she love me, I charge her to love + thee; if she will not, I will never have her unless + thou entreat for her. If you be a true lover, + hence, and not a word; for here comes more company. + + [Exit SILVIUS] + + [Enter OLIVER] + +OLIVER Good morrow, fair ones: pray you, if you know, + Where in the purlieus of this forest stands + A sheep-cote fenced about with olive trees? + +CELIA West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom: + The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream + Left on your right hand brings you to the place. + But at this hour the house doth keep itself; + There's none within. + +OLIVER If that an eye may profit by a tongue, + Then should I know you by description; + Such garments and such years: 'The boy is fair, + Of female favour, and bestows himself + Like a ripe sister: the woman low + And browner than her brother.' Are not you + The owner of the house I did inquire for? + +CELIA It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are. + +OLIVER Orlando doth commend him to you both, + And to that youth he calls his Rosalind + He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he? + +ROSALIND I am: what must we understand by this? + +OLIVER Some of my shame; if you will know of me + What man I am, and how, and why, and where + This handkercher was stain'd. + +CELIA I pray you, tell it. + +OLIVER When last the young Orlando parted from you + He left a promise to return again + Within an hour, and pacing through the forest, + Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy, + Lo, what befell! he threw his eye aside, + And mark what object did present itself: + Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age + And high top bald with dry antiquity, + A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair, + Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck + A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, + Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd + The opening of his mouth; but suddenly, + Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, + And with indented glides did slip away + Into a bush: under which bush's shade + A lioness, with udders all drawn dry, + Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch, + When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis + The royal disposition of that beast + To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead: + This seen, Orlando did approach the man + And found it was his brother, his elder brother. + +CELIA O, I have heard him speak of that same brother; + And he did render him the most unnatural + That lived amongst men. + +OLIVER And well he might so do, + For well I know he was unnatural. + +ROSALIND But, to Orlando: did he leave him there, + Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? + +OLIVER Twice did he turn his back and purposed so; + But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, + And nature, stronger than his just occasion, + Made him give battle to the lioness, + Who quickly fell before him: in which hurtling + From miserable slumber I awaked. + +CELIA Are you his brother? + +ROSALIND Wast you he rescued? + +CELIA Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him? + +OLIVER 'Twas I; but 'tis not I I do not shame + To tell you what I was, since my conversion + So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. + +ROSALIND But, for the bloody napkin? + +OLIVER By and by. + When from the first to last betwixt us two + Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed, + As how I came into that desert place:-- + In brief, he led me to the gentle duke, + Who gave me fresh array and entertainment, + Committing me unto my brother's love; + Who led me instantly unto his cave, + There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm + The lioness had torn some flesh away, + Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted + And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. + Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound; + And, after some small space, being strong at heart, + He sent me hither, stranger as I am, + To tell this story, that you might excuse + His broken promise, and to give this napkin + Dyed in his blood unto the shepherd youth + That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. + + [ROSALIND swoons] + +CELIA Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede! + +OLIVER Many will swoon when they do look on blood. + +CELIA There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede! + +OLIVER Look, he recovers. + +ROSALIND I would I were at home. + +CELIA We'll lead you thither. + I pray you, will you take him by the arm? + +OLIVER Be of good cheer, youth: you a man! you lack a + man's heart. + +ROSALIND I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would + think this was well counterfeited! I pray you, tell + your brother how well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho! + +OLIVER This was not counterfeit: there is too great + testimony in your complexion that it was a passion + of earnest. + +ROSALIND Counterfeit, I assure you. + +OLIVER Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man. + +ROSALIND So I do: but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by right. + +CELIA Come, you look paler and paler: pray you, draw + homewards. Good sir, go with us. + +OLIVER That will I, for I must bear answer back + How you excuse my brother, Rosalind. + +ROSALIND I shall devise something: but, I pray you, commend + my counterfeiting to him. Will you go? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +TOUCHSTONE We shall find a time, Audrey; patience, gentle Audrey. + +AUDREY Faith, the priest was good enough, for all the old + gentleman's saying. + +TOUCHSTONE A most wicked Sir Oliver, Audrey, a most vile + Martext. But, Audrey, there is a youth here in the + forest lays claim to you. + +AUDREY Ay, I know who 'tis; he hath no interest in me in + the world: here comes the man you mean. + +TOUCHSTONE It is meat and drink to me to see a clown: by my + troth, we that have good wits have much to answer + for; we shall be flouting; we cannot hold. + + [Enter WILLIAM] + +WILLIAM Good even, Audrey. + +AUDREY God ye good even, William. + +WILLIAM And good even to you, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE Good even, gentle friend. Cover thy head, cover thy + head; nay, prithee, be covered. How old are you, friend? + +WILLIAM Five and twenty, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE A ripe age. Is thy name William? + +WILLIAM William, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE A fair name. Wast born i' the forest here? + +WILLIAM Ay, sir, I thank God. + +TOUCHSTONE 'Thank God;' a good answer. Art rich? + +WILLIAM Faith, sir, so so. + +TOUCHSTONE 'So so' is good, very good, very excellent good; and + yet it is not; it is but so so. Art thou wise? + +WILLIAM Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. + +TOUCHSTONE Why, thou sayest well. I do now remember a saying, + 'The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man + knows himself to be a fool.' The heathen + philosopher, when he had a desire to eat a grape, + would open his lips when he put it into his mouth; + meaning thereby that grapes were made to eat and + lips to open. You do love this maid? + +WILLIAM I do, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE Give me your hand. Art thou learned? + +WILLIAM No, sir. + +TOUCHSTONE Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it + is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out + of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty + the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse + is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he. + +WILLIAM Which he, sir? + +TOUCHSTONE He, sir, that must marry this woman. Therefore, you + clown, abandon,--which is in the vulgar leave,--the + society,--which in the boorish is company,--of this + female,--which in the common is woman; which + together is, abandon the society of this female, or, + clown, thou perishest; or, to thy better + understanding, diest; or, to wit I kill thee, make + thee away, translate thy life into death, thy + liberty into bondage: I will deal in poison with + thee, or in bastinado, or in steel; I will bandy + with thee in faction; I will o'errun thee with + policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways: + therefore tremble and depart. + +AUDREY Do, good William. + +WILLIAM God rest you merry, sir. + + [Exit] + + [Enter CORIN] + +CORIN Our master and mistress seeks you; come, away, away! + +TOUCHSTONE Trip, Audrey! trip, Audrey! I attend, I attend. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The forest. + + + [Enter ORLANDO and OLIVER] + +ORLANDO Is't possible that on so little acquaintance you + should like her? that but seeing you should love + her? and loving woo? and, wooing, she should + grant? and will you persever to enjoy her? + +OLIVER Neither call the giddiness of it in question, the + poverty of her, the small acquaintance, my sudden + wooing, nor her sudden consenting; but say with me, + I love Aliena; say with her that she loves me; + consent with both that we may enjoy each other: it + shall be to your good; for my father's house and all + the revenue that was old Sir Rowland's will I + estate upon you, and here live and die a shepherd. + +ORLANDO You have my consent. Let your wedding be to-morrow: + thither will I invite the duke and all's contented + followers. Go you and prepare Aliena; for look + you, here comes my Rosalind. + + [Enter ROSALIND] + +ROSALIND God save you, brother. + +OLIVER And you, fair sister. + + [Exit] + +ROSALIND O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee + wear thy heart in a scarf! + +ORLANDO It is my arm. + +ROSALIND I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws + of a lion. + +ORLANDO Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady. + +ROSALIND Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to + swoon when he showed me your handkerchief? + +ORLANDO Ay, and greater wonders than that. + +ROSALIND O, I know where you are: nay, 'tis true: there was + never any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams + and Caesar's thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and + overcame:' for your brother and my sister no sooner + met but they looked, no sooner looked but they + loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner + sighed but they asked one another the reason, no + sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy; + and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs + to marriage which they will climb incontinent, or + else be incontinent before marriage: they are in + the very wrath of love and they will together; clubs + cannot part them. + +ORLANDO They shall be married to-morrow, and I will bid the + duke to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it + is to look into happiness through another man's + eyes! By so much the more shall I to-morrow be at + the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall + think my brother happy in having what he wishes for. + +ROSALIND Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind? + +ORLANDO I can live no longer by thinking. + +ROSALIND I will weary you then no longer with idle talking. + Know of me then, for now I speak to some purpose, + that I know you are a gentleman of good conceit: I + speak not this that you should bear a good opinion + of my knowledge, insomuch I say I know you are; + neither do I labour for a greater esteem than may in + some little measure draw a belief from you, to do + yourself good and not to grace me. Believe then, if + you please, that I can do strange things: I have, + since I was three year old, conversed with a + magician, most profound in his art and yet not + damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart + as your gesture cries it out, when your brother + marries Aliena, shall you marry her: I know into + what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is + not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient + to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow human + as she is and without any danger. + +ORLANDO Speakest thou in sober meanings? + +ROSALIND By my life, I do; which I tender dearly, though I + say I am a magician. Therefore, put you in your + best array: bid your friends; for if you will be + married to-morrow, you shall, and to Rosalind, if you will. + + [Enter SILVIUS and PHEBE] + + Look, here comes a lover of mine and a lover of hers. + +PHEBE Youth, you have done me much ungentleness, + To show the letter that I writ to you. + +ROSALIND I care not if I have: it is my study + To seem despiteful and ungentle to you: + You are there followed by a faithful shepherd; + Look upon him, love him; he worships you. + +PHEBE Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. + +SILVIUS It is to be all made of sighs and tears; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS It is to be all made of faith and service; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And I for no woman. + +SILVIUS It is to be all made of fantasy, + All made of passion and all made of wishes, + All adoration, duty, and observance, + All humbleness, all patience and impatience, + All purity, all trial, all observance; + And so am I for Phebe. + +PHEBE And so am I for Ganymede. + +ORLANDO And so am I for Rosalind. + +ROSALIND And so am I for no woman. + +PHEBE If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +SILVIUS If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +ORLANDO If this be so, why blame you me to love you? + +ROSALIND Who do you speak to, 'Why blame you me to love you?' + +ORLANDO To her that is not here, nor doth not hear. + +ROSALIND Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling + of Irish wolves against the moon. + + [To SILVIUS] + + I will help you, if I can: + + [To PHEBE] + + I would love you, if I could. To-morrow meet me all together. + + [To PHEBE] + + I will marry you, if ever I marry woman, and I'll be + married to-morrow: + + [To ORLANDO] + + I will satisfy you, if ever I satisfied man, and you + shall be married to-morrow: + + [To SILVIUS] + + I will content you, if what pleases you contents + you, and you shall be married to-morrow. + + [To ORLANDO] + + As you love Rosalind, meet: + + [To SILVIUS] + + as you love Phebe, meet: and as I love no woman, + I'll meet. So fare you well: I have left you commands. + +SILVIUS I'll not fail, if I live. + +PHEBE Nor I. + +ORLANDO Nor I. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The forest. + + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +TOUCHSTONE To-morrow is the joyful day, Audrey; to-morrow will + we be married. + +AUDREY I do desire it with all my heart; and I hope it is + no dishonest desire to desire to be a woman of the + world. Here comes two of the banished duke's pages. + + [Enter two Pages] + +First Page Well met, honest gentleman. + +TOUCHSTONE By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a song. + +Second Page We are for you: sit i' the middle. + +First Page Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or + spitting or saying we are hoarse, which are the only + prologues to a bad voice? + +Second Page I'faith, i'faith; and both in a tune, like two + gipsies on a horse. + + SONG. + It was a lover and his lass, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + That o'er the green corn-field did pass + In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, + When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding: + Sweet lovers love the spring. + + Between the acres of the rye, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino + These pretty country folks would lie, + In spring time, &c. + + This carol they began that hour, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, + How that a life was but a flower + In spring time, &c. + + And therefore take the present time, + With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino; + For love is crowned with the prime + In spring time, &c. + +TOUCHSTONE Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great + matter in the ditty, yet the note was very + untuneable. + +First Page You are deceived, sir: we kept time, we lost not our time. + +TOUCHSTONE By my troth, yes; I count it but time lost to hear + such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and God mend + your voices! Come, Audrey. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV The forest. + + + [Enter DUKE SENIOR, AMIENS, JAQUES, ORLANDO, OLIVER, + and CELIA] + +DUKE SENIOR Dost thou believe, Orlando, that the boy + Can do all this that he hath promised? + +ORLANDO I sometimes do believe, and sometimes do not; + As those that fear they hope, and know they fear. + + [Enter ROSALIND, SILVIUS, and PHEBE] + +ROSALIND Patience once more, whiles our compact is urged: + You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, + You will bestow her on Orlando here? + +DUKE SENIOR That would I, had I kingdoms to give with her. + +ROSALIND And you say, you will have her, when I bring her? + +ORLANDO That would I, were I of all kingdoms king. + +ROSALIND You say, you'll marry me, if I be willing? + +PHEBE That will I, should I die the hour after. + +ROSALIND But if you do refuse to marry me, + You'll give yourself to this most faithful shepherd? + +PHEBE So is the bargain. + +ROSALIND You say, that you'll have Phebe, if she will? + +SILVIUS Though to have her and death were both one thing. + +ROSALIND I have promised to make all this matter even. + Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter; + You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter: + Keep your word, Phebe, that you'll marry me, + Or else refusing me, to wed this shepherd: + Keep your word, Silvius, that you'll marry her. + If she refuse me: and from hence I go, + To make these doubts all even. + + [Exeunt ROSALIND and CELIA] + +DUKE SENIOR I do remember in this shepherd boy + Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. + +ORLANDO My lord, the first time that I ever saw him + Methought he was a brother to your daughter: + But, my good lord, this boy is forest-born, + And hath been tutor'd in the rudiments + Of many desperate studies by his uncle, + Whom he reports to be a great magician, + Obscured in the circle of this forest. + + [Enter TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY] + +JAQUES There is, sure, another flood toward, and these + couples are coming to the ark. Here comes a pair of + very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. + +TOUCHSTONE Salutation and greeting to you all! + +JAQUES Good my lord, bid him welcome: this is the + motley-minded gentleman that I have so often met in + the forest: he hath been a courtier, he swears. + +TOUCHSTONE If any man doubt that, let him put me to my + purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered + a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth + with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have + had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. + +JAQUES And how was that ta'en up? + +TOUCHSTONE Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the + seventh cause. + +JAQUES How seventh cause? Good my lord, like this fellow. + +DUKE SENIOR I like him very well. + +TOUCHSTONE God 'ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I + press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country + copulatives, to swear and to forswear: according as + marriage binds and blood breaks: a poor virgin, + sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor + humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else + will: rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a + poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster. + +DUKE SENIOR By my faith, he is very swift and sententious. + +TOUCHSTONE According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such dulcet diseases. + +JAQUES But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the + quarrel on the seventh cause? + +TOUCHSTONE Upon a lie seven times removed:--bear your body more + seeming, Audrey:--as thus, sir. I did dislike the + cut of a certain courtier's beard: he sent me word, + if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the + mind it was: this is called the Retort Courteous. + If I sent him word again 'it was not well cut,' he + would send me word, he cut it to please himself: + this is called the Quip Modest. If again 'it was + not well cut,' he disabled my judgment: this is + called the Reply Churlish. If again 'it was not + well cut,' he would answer, I spake not true: this + is called the Reproof Valiant. If again 'it was not + well cut,' he would say I lied: this is called the + Counter-cheque Quarrelsome: and so to the Lie + Circumstantial and the Lie Direct. + +JAQUES And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? + +TOUCHSTONE I durst go no further than the Lie Circumstantial, + nor he durst not give me the Lie Direct; and so we + measured swords and parted. + +JAQUES Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? + +TOUCHSTONE O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have + books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. + The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the + Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the + fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the + Countercheque Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with + Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct. All + these you may avoid but the Lie Direct; and you may + avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven + justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the + parties were met themselves, one of them thought but + of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and + they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the + only peacemaker; much virtue in If. + +JAQUES Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at + any thing and yet a fool. + +DUKE SENIOR He uses his folly like a stalking-horse and under + the presentation of that he shoots his wit. + + [Enter HYMEN, ROSALIND, and CELIA] + + [Still Music] + +HYMEN Then is there mirth in heaven, + When earthly things made even + Atone together. + Good duke, receive thy daughter + Hymen from heaven brought her, + Yea, brought her hither, + That thou mightst join her hand with his + Whose heart within his bosom is. + +ROSALIND [To DUKE SENIOR] To you I give myself, for I am yours. + + [To ORLANDO] + + To you I give myself, for I am yours. + +DUKE SENIOR If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter. + +ORLANDO If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. + +PHEBE If sight and shape be true, + Why then, my love adieu! + +ROSALIND I'll have no father, if you be not he: + I'll have no husband, if you be not he: + Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she. + +HYMEN Peace, ho! I bar confusion: + 'Tis I must make conclusion + Of these most strange events: + Here's eight that must take hands + To join in Hymen's bands, + If truth holds true contents. + You and you no cross shall part: + You and you are heart in heart + You to his love must accord, + Or have a woman to your lord: + You and you are sure together, + As the winter to foul weather. + Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing, + Feed yourselves with questioning; + That reason wonder may diminish, + How thus we met, and these things finish. + + SONG. + Wedding is great Juno's crown: + O blessed bond of board and bed! + 'Tis Hymen peoples every town; + High wedlock then be honoured: + Honour, high honour and renown, + To Hymen, god of every town! + +DUKE SENIOR O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! + Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. + +PHEBE I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; + Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. + + [Enter JAQUES DE BOYS] + +JAQUES DE BOYS Let me have audience for a word or two: + I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, + That bring these tidings to this fair assembly. + Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day + Men of great worth resorted to this forest, + Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, + In his own conduct, purposely to take + His brother here and put him to the sword: + And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; + Where meeting with an old religious man, + After some question with him, was converted + Both from his enterprise and from the world, + His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, + And all their lands restored to them again + That were with him exiled. This to be true, + I do engage my life. + +DUKE SENIOR Welcome, young man; + Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: + To one his lands withheld, and to the other + A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. + First, in this forest, let us do those ends + That here were well begun and well begot: + And after, every of this happy number + That have endured shrewd days and nights with us + Shall share the good of our returned fortune, + According to the measure of their states. + Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity + And fall into our rustic revelry. + Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, + With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. + +JAQUES Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly, + The duke hath put on a religious life + And thrown into neglect the pompous court? + +JAQUES DE BOYS He hath. + +JAQUES To him will I : out of these convertites + There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. + + [To DUKE SENIOR] + + You to your former honour I bequeath; + Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: + + [To ORLANDO] + + You to a love that your true faith doth merit: + + [To OLIVER] + + You to your land and love and great allies: + + [To SILVIUS] + + You to a long and well-deserved bed: + + [To TOUCHSTONE] + + And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage + Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures: + I am for other than for dancing measures. + +DUKE SENIOR Stay, Jaques, stay. + +JAQUES To see no pastime I what you would have + I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. + + [Exit] + +DUKE SENIOR Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, + As we do trust they'll end, in true delights. + + [A dance] + + + + + AS YOU LIKE IT + + EPILOGUE + + +ROSALIND It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; + but it is no more unhandsome than to see the lord + the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs + no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no + epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, + and good plays prove the better by the help of good + epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am + neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with + you in the behalf of a good play! I am not + furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not + become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin + with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love + you bear to men, to like as much of this play as + please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love + you bear to women--as I perceive by your simpering, + none of you hates them--that between you and the + women the play may please. If I were a woman I + would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased + me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I + defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good + beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my + kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. + + [Exeunt] + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +SOLINUS Duke of Ephesus. (DUKE SOLINUS:) + +AEGEON a merchant of Syracuse. + + +ANTIPHOLUS | +OF EPHESUS | + | twin brothers, and sons to AEgeon and AEmilia. +ANTIPHOLUS | +OF SYRACUSE | + + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS | + | twin brothers, and attendants on the two Antipholuses. +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE | + + +BALTHAZAR a merchant + +ANGELO a goldsmith. + +First Merchant friend to Antipholus of Syracuse. + +Second Merchant to whom Angelo is a debtor. + +PINCH a schoolmaster. + +AEMILIA wife to AEgeon, an abbess at Ephesus. + +ADRIANA wife to Antipholus of Ephesus. + +LUCIANA her sister. + +LUCE servant to Adriana. + + A Courtezan. + + Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants + (Gaoler:) + (Officer:) + (Servant:) + +SCENE Ephesus. + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I A hall in DUKE SOLINUS'S palace. + + + [Enter DUKE SOLINUS, AEGEON, Gaoler, Officers, and other + Attendants] + +AEGEON Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall + And by the doom of death end woes and all. + +DUKE SOLINUS Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more; + I am not partial to infringe our laws: + The enmity and discord which of late + Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your duke + To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen, + Who wanting guilders to redeem their lives + Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their bloods, + Excludes all pity from our threatening looks. + For, since the mortal and intestine jars + 'Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us, + It hath in solemn synods been decreed + Both by the Syracusians and ourselves, + To admit no traffic to our adverse towns Nay, more, + If any born at Ephesus be seen + At any Syracusian marts and fairs; + Again: if any Syracusian born + Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, + His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose, + Unless a thousand marks be levied, + To quit the penalty and to ransom him. + Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, + Cannot amount unto a hundred marks; + Therefore by law thou art condemned to die. + +AEGEON Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, + My woes end likewise with the evening sun. + +DUKE SOLINUS Well, Syracusian, say in brief the cause + Why thou departed'st from thy native home + And for what cause thou camest to Ephesus. + +AEGEON A heavier task could not have been imposed + Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable: + Yet, that the world may witness that my end + Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, + I'll utter what my sorrows give me leave. + In Syracusa was I born, and wed + Unto a woman, happy but for me, + And by me, had not our hap been bad. + With her I lived in joy; our wealth increased + By prosperous voyages I often made + To Epidamnum; till my factor's death + And the great care of goods at random left + Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse: + From whom my absence was not six months old + Before herself, almost at fainting under + The pleasing punishment that women bear, + Had made provision for her following me + And soon and safe arrived where I was. + There had she not been long, but she became + A joyful mother of two goodly sons; + And, which was strange, the one so like the other, + As could not be distinguish'd but by names. + That very hour, and in the self-same inn, + A meaner woman was delivered + Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: + Those,--for their parents were exceeding poor,-- + I bought and brought up to attend my sons. + My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys, + Made daily motions for our home return: + Unwilling I agreed. Alas! too soon, + We came aboard. + A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd, + Before the always wind-obeying deep + Gave any tragic instance of our harm: + But longer did we not retain much hope; + For what obscured light the heavens did grant + Did but convey unto our fearful minds + A doubtful warrant of immediate death; + Which though myself would gladly have embraced, + Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, + Weeping before for what she saw must come, + And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, + That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, + Forced me to seek delays for them and me. + And this it was, for other means was none: + The sailors sought for safety by our boat, + And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us: + My wife, more careful for the latter-born, + Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast, + Such as seafaring men provide for storms; + To him one of the other twins was bound, + Whilst I had been like heedful of the other: + The children thus disposed, my wife and I, + Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, + Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast; + And floating straight, obedient to the stream, + Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. + At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, + Dispersed those vapours that offended us; + And by the benefit of his wished light, + The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered + Two ships from far making amain to us, + Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this: + But ere they came,--O, let me say no more! + Gather the sequel by that went before. + +DUKE SOLINUS Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so; + For we may pity, though not pardon thee. + +AEGEON O, had the gods done so, I had not now + Worthily term'd them merciless to us! + For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, + We were encounterd by a mighty rock; + Which being violently borne upon, + Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; + So that, in this unjust divorce of us, + Fortune had left to both of us alike + What to delight in, what to sorrow for. + Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened + With lesser weight but not with lesser woe, + Was carried with more speed before the wind; + And in our sight they three were taken up + By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. + At length, another ship had seized on us; + And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, + Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck'd guests; + And would have reft the fishers of their prey, + Had not their bark been very slow of sail; + And therefore homeward did they bend their course. + Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss; + That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd, + To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. + +DUKE SOLINUS And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, + Do me the favour to dilate at full + What hath befall'n of them and thee till now. + +AEGEON My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, + At eighteen years became inquisitive + After his brother: and importuned me + That his attendant--so his case was like, + Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name-- + Might bear him company in the quest of him: + Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see, + I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. + Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece, + Roaming clean through the bounds of Asia, + And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus; + Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought + Or that or any place that harbours men. + But here must end the story of my life; + And happy were I in my timely death, + Could all my travels warrant me they live. + +DUKE SOLINUS Hapless AEgeon, whom the fates have mark'd + To bear the extremity of dire mishap! + Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, + Against my crown, my oath, my dignity, + Which princes, would they, may not disannul, + My soul would sue as advocate for thee. + But, though thou art adjudged to the death + And passed sentence may not be recall'd + But to our honour's great disparagement, + Yet I will favour thee in what I can. + Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day + To seek thy life by beneficial help: + Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus; + Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum, + And live; if no, then thou art doom'd to die. + Gaoler, take him to thy custody. + +Gaoler I will, my lord. + +AEGEON Hopeless and helpless doth AEgeon wend, + But to procrastinate his lifeless end. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The Mart. + + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse, DROMIO of Syracuse, + and First Merchant] + +First Merchant Therefore give out you are of Epidamnum, + Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. + This very day a Syracusian merchant + Is apprehended for arrival here; + And not being able to buy out his life + According to the statute of the town, + Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. + There is your money that I had to keep. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host, + And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. + Within this hour it will be dinner-time: + Till that, I'll view the manners of the town, + Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, + And then return and sleep within mine inn, + For with long travel I am stiff and weary. + Get thee away. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Many a man would take you at your word, + And go indeed, having so good a mean. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE A trusty villain, sir, that very oft, + When I am dull with care and melancholy, + Lightens my humour with his merry jests. + What, will you walk with me about the town, + And then go to my inn and dine with me? + +First Merchant I am invited, sir, to certain merchants, + Of whom I hope to make much benefit; + I crave your pardon. Soon at five o'clock, + Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart + And afterward consort you till bed-time: + My present business calls me from you now. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Farewell till then: I will go lose myself + And wander up and down to view the city. + +First Merchant Sir, I commend you to your own content. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE He that commends me to mine own content + Commends me to the thing I cannot get. + I to the world am like a drop of water + That in the ocean seeks another drop, + Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, + Unseen, inquisitive, confounds himself: + So I, to find a mother and a brother, + In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. + + [Enter DROMIO of Ephesus] + + Here comes the almanac of my true date. + What now? how chance thou art return'd so soon? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Return'd so soon! rather approach'd too late: + The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit, + The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell; + My mistress made it one upon my cheek: + She is so hot because the meat is cold; + The meat is cold because you come not home; + You come not home because you have no stomach; + You have no stomach having broke your fast; + But we that know what 'tis to fast and pray + Are penitent for your default to-day. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Stop in your wind, sir: tell me this, I pray: + Where have you left the money that I gave you? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS O,--sixpence, that I had o' Wednesday last + To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper? + The saddler had it, sir; I kept it not. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I am not in a sportive humour now: + Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? + We being strangers here, how darest thou trust + So great a charge from thine own custody? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I pray you, air, as you sit at dinner: + I from my mistress come to you in post; + If I return, I shall be post indeed, + For she will score your fault upon my pate. + Methinks your maw, like mine, should be your clock, + And strike you home without a messenger. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season; + Reserve them till a merrier hour than this. + Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS To me, sir? why, you gave no gold to me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness, + And tell me how thou hast disposed thy charge. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS My charge was but to fetch you from the mart + Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to dinner: + My mistress and her sister stays for you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE In what safe place you have bestow'd my money, + Or I shall break that merry sconce of yours + That stands on tricks when I am undisposed: + Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I have some marks of yours upon my pate, + Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, + But not a thousand marks between you both. + If I should pay your worship those again, + Perchance you will not bear them patiently. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thy mistress' marks? what mistress, slave, hast thou? + + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; + She that doth fast till you come home to dinner, + And prays that you will hie you home to dinner. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face, + Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS What mean you, sir? for God's sake, hold your hands! + Nay, and you will not, sir, I'll take my heels. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Upon my life, by some device or other + The villain is o'er-raught of all my money. + They say this town is full of cozenage, + As, nimble jugglers that deceive the eye, + Dark-working sorcerers that change the mind, + Soul-killing witches that deform the body, + Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks, + And many such-like liberties of sin: + If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. + I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave: + I greatly fear my money is not safe. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I The house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus. + + + [Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA] + +ADRIANA Neither my husband nor the slave return'd, + That in such haste I sent to seek his master! + Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock. + +LUCIANA Perhaps some merchant hath invited him, + And from the mart he's somewhere gone to dinner. + Good sister, let us dine and never fret: + A man is master of his liberty: + Time is their master, and, when they see time, + They'll go or come: if so, be patient, sister. + +ADRIANA Why should their liberty than ours be more? + +LUCIANA Because their business still lies out o' door. + +ADRIANA Look, when I serve him so, he takes it ill. + +LUCIANA O, know he is the bridle of your will. + +ADRIANA There's none but asses will be bridled so. + +LUCIANA Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd with woe. + There's nothing situate under heaven's eye + But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: + The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls, + Are their males' subjects and at their controls: + Men, more divine, the masters of all these, + Lords of the wide world and wild watery seas, + Indued with intellectual sense and souls, + Of more preeminence than fish and fowls, + Are masters to their females, and their lords: + Then let your will attend on their accords. + +ADRIANA This servitude makes you to keep unwed. + +LUCIANA Not this, but troubles of the marriage-bed. + +ADRIANA But, were you wedded, you would bear some sway. + +LUCIANA Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. + +ADRIANA How if your husband start some other where? + +LUCIANA Till he come home again, I would forbear. + +ADRIANA Patience unmoved! no marvel though she pause; + They can be meek that have no other cause. + A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, + We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; + But were we burdened with like weight of pain, + As much or more would we ourselves complain: + So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, + With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me, + But, if thou live to see like right bereft, + This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. + +LUCIANA Well, I will marry one day, but to try. + Here comes your man; now is your husband nigh. + + [Enter DROMIO of Ephesus] + +ADRIANA Say, is your tardy master now at hand? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, he's at two hands with me, and that my two ears + can witness. + +ADRIANA Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine ear: + Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand it. + +LUCIANA Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst not feel his meaning? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, he struck so plainly, I could too well feel his + blows; and withal so doubtfully that I could scarce + understand them. + +ADRIANA But say, I prithee, is he coming home? It seems he + hath great care to please his wife. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. + +ADRIANA Horn-mad, thou villain! + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I mean not cuckold-mad; + But, sure, he is stark mad. + When I desired him to come home to dinner, + He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold: + ''Tis dinner-time,' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he; + 'Your meat doth burn,' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he: + 'Will you come home?' quoth I; 'My gold!' quoth he. + 'Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, villain?' + 'The pig,' quoth I, 'is burn'd;' 'My gold!' quoth he: + 'My mistress, sir' quoth I; 'Hang up thy mistress! + I know not thy mistress; out on thy mistress!' + +LUCIANA Quoth who? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Quoth my master: + 'I know,' quoth he, 'no house, no wife, no mistress.' + So that my errand, due unto my tongue, + I thank him, I bare home upon my shoulders; + For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. + +ADRIANA Go back again, thou slave, and fetch him home. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Go back again, and be new beaten home? + For God's sake, send some other messenger. + +ADRIANA Back, slave, or I will break thy pate across. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS And he will bless that cross with other beating: + Between you I shall have a holy head. + +ADRIANA Hence, prating peasant! fetch thy master home. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Am I so round with you as you with me, + That like a football you do spurn me thus? + You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me hither: + If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. + + [Exit] + +LUCIANA Fie, how impatience loureth in your face! + +ADRIANA His company must do his minions grace, + Whilst I at home starve for a merry look. + Hath homely age the alluring beauty took + From my poor cheek? then he hath wasted it: + Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? + If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, + Unkindness blunts it more than marble hard: + Do their gay vestments his affections bait? + That's not my fault: he's master of my state: + What ruins are in me that can be found, + By him not ruin'd? then is he the ground + Of my defeatures. My decayed fair + A sunny look of his would soon repair + But, too unruly deer, he breaks the pale + And feeds from home; poor I am but his stale. + +LUCIANA Self-harming jealousy! fie, beat it hence! + +ADRIANA Unfeeling fools can with such wrongs dispense. + I know his eye doth homage otherwhere, + Or else what lets it but he would be here? + Sister, you know he promised me a chain; + Would that alone, alone he would detain, + So he would keep fair quarter with his bed! + I see the jewel best enamelled + Will lose his beauty; yet the gold bides still, + That others touch, and often touching will + Wear gold: and no man that hath a name, + By falsehood and corruption doth it shame. + Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, + I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. + +LUCIANA How many fond fools serve mad jealousy! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A public place. + + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE The gold I gave to Dromio is laid up + Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave + Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out + By computation and mine host's report. + I could not speak with Dromio since at first + I sent him from the mart. See, here he comes. + + [Enter DROMIO of Syracuse] + + How now sir! is your merry humour alter'd? + As you love strokes, so jest with me again. + You know no Centaur? you received no gold? + Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? + My house was at the Phoenix? Wast thou mad, + That thus so madly thou didst answer me? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE What answer, sir? when spake I such a word? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Even now, even here, not half an hour since. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I did not see you since you sent me hence, + Home to the Centaur, with the gold you gave me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Villain, thou didst deny the gold's receipt, + And told'st me of a mistress and a dinner; + For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeased. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am glad to see you in this merry vein: + What means this jest? I pray you, master, tell me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Yea, dost thou jeer and flout me in the teeth? + Think'st thou I jest? Hold, take thou that, and that. + + [Beating him] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Hold, sir, for God's sake! now your jest is earnest: + Upon what bargain do you give it me? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Because that I familiarly sometimes + Do use you for my fool and chat with you, + Your sauciness will jest upon my love + And make a common of my serious hours. + When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport, + But creep in crannies when he hides his beams. + If you will jest with me, know my aspect, + And fashion your demeanor to my looks, + Or I will beat this method in your sconce. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Sconce call you it? so you would leave battering, I + had rather have it a head: an you use these blows + long, I must get a sconce for my head and ensconce + it too; or else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. + But, I pray, sir why am I beaten? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Dost thou not know? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nothing, sir, but that I am beaten. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Shall I tell you why? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Ay, sir, and wherefore; for they say every why hath + a wherefore. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why, first,--for flouting me; and then, wherefore-- + For urging it the second time to me. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Was there ever any man thus beaten out of season, + When in the why and the wherefore is neither rhyme + nor reason? + Well, sir, I thank you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thank me, sir, for what? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, for this something that you gave me for nothing. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I'll make you amends next, to give you nothing for + something. But say, sir, is it dinner-time? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, sir; I think the meat wants that I have. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE In good time, sir; what's that? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Basting. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, then 'twill be dry. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE If it be, sir, I pray you, eat none of it. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Your reason? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Lest it make you choleric and purchase me another + dry basting. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, learn to jest in good time: there's a + time for all things. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I durst have denied that, before you were so choleric. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE By what rule, sir? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the plain bald + pate of father Time himself. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Let's hear it. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There's no time for a man to recover his hair that + grows bald by nature. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE May he not do it by fine and recovery? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Yes, to pay a fine for a periwig and recover the + lost hair of another man. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why is Time such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, + so plentiful an excrement? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Because it is a blessing that he bestows on beasts; + and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in wit. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why, but there's many a man hath more hair than wit. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not a man of those but he hath the wit to lose his hair. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why, thou didst conclude hairy men plain dealers without wit. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The plainer dealer, the sooner lost: yet he loseth + it in a kind of jollity. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE For what reason? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE For two; and sound ones too. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Nay, not sound, I pray you. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Sure ones, then. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Certain ones then. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Name them. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE The one, to save the money that he spends in + trimming; the other, that at dinner they should not + drop in his porridge. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE You would all this time have proved there is no + time for all things. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, and did, sir; namely, no time to recover hair + lost by nature. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE But your reason was not substantial, why there is no + time to recover. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Thus I mend it: Time himself is bald and therefore + to the world's end will have bald followers. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I knew 'twould be a bald conclusion: + But, soft! who wafts us yonder? + + [Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA] + +ADRIANA Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange and frown: + Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects; + I am not Adriana nor thy wife. + The time was once when thou unurged wouldst vow + That never words were music to thine ear, + That never object pleasing in thine eye, + That never touch well welcome to thy hand, + That never meat sweet-savor'd in thy taste, + Unless I spake, or look'd, or touch'd, or carved to thee. + How comes it now, my husband, O, how comes it, + That thou art thus estranged from thyself? + Thyself I call it, being strange to me, + That, undividable, incorporate, + Am better than thy dear self's better part. + Ah, do not tear away thyself from me! + For know, my love, as easy mayest thou fall + A drop of water in the breaking gulf, + And take unmingled that same drop again, + Without addition or diminishing, + As take from me thyself and not me too. + How dearly would it touch me to the quick, + Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious + And that this body, consecrate to thee, + By ruffian lust should be contaminate! + Wouldst thou not spit at me and spurn at me + And hurl the name of husband in my face + And tear the stain'd skin off my harlot-brow + And from my false hand cut the wedding-ring + And break it with a deep-divorcing vow? + I know thou canst; and therefore see thou do it. + I am possess'd with an adulterate blot; + My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: + For if we too be one and thou play false, + I do digest the poison of thy flesh, + Being strumpeted by thy contagion. + Keep then far league and truce with thy true bed; + I live unstain'd, thou undishonoured. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Plead you to me, fair dame? I know you not: + In Ephesus I am but two hours old, + As strange unto your town as to your talk; + Who, every word by all my wit being scann'd, + Want wit in all one word to understand. + +LUCIANA Fie, brother! how the world is changed with you! + When were you wont to use my sister thus? + She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE By Dromio? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE By me? + +ADRIANA By thee; and this thou didst return from him, + That he did buffet thee, and, in his blows, + Denied my house for his, me for his wife. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Did you converse, sir, with this gentlewoman? + What is the course and drift of your compact? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir? I never saw her till this time. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Villain, thou liest; for even her very words + Didst thou deliver to me on the mart. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I never spake with her in all my life. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE How can she thus then call us by our names, + Unless it be by inspiration. + +ADRIANA How ill agrees it with your gravity + To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave, + Abetting him to thwart me in my mood! + Be it my wrong you are from me exempt, + But wrong not that wrong with a more contempt. + Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine: + Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, + Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, + Makes me with thy strength to communicate: + If aught possess thee from me, it is dross, + Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss; + Who, all for want of pruning, with intrusion + Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE To me she speaks; she moves me for her theme: + What, was I married to her in my dream? + Or sleep I now and think I hear all this? + What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? + Until I know this sure uncertainty, + I'll entertain the offer'd fallacy. + +LUCIANA Dromio, go bid the servants spread for dinner. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, for my beads! I cross me for a sinner. + This is the fairy land: O spite of spites! + We talk with goblins, owls and sprites: + If we obey them not, this will ensue, + They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and blue. + +LUCIANA Why pratest thou to thyself and answer'st not? + Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou sot! + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am transformed, master, am I not? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I think thou art in mind, and so am I. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, master, both in mind and in my shape. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thou hast thine own form. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, I am an ape. + +LUCIANA If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an ass. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 'Tis true; she rides me and I long for grass. + 'Tis so, I am an ass; else it could never be + But I should know her as well as she knows me. + +ADRIANA Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, + To put the finger in the eye and weep, + Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn. + Come, sir, to dinner. Dromio, keep the gate. + Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day + And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks. + Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, + Say he dines forth, and let no creature enter. + Come, sister. Dromio, play the porter well. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? + Sleeping or waking? mad or well-advised? + Known unto these, and to myself disguised! + I'll say as they say and persever so, + And in this mist at all adventures go. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, shall I be porter at the gate? + +ADRIANA Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate. + +LUCIANA Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Before the house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus. + + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus, DROMIO of Ephesus, + ANGELO, and BALTHAZAR] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Good Signior Angelo, you must excuse us all; + My wife is shrewish when I keep not hours: + Say that I linger'd with you at your shop + To see the making of her carcanet, + And that to-morrow you will bring it home. + But here's a villain that would face me down + He met me on the mart, and that I beat him, + And charged him with a thousand marks in gold, + And that I did deny my wife and house. + Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know; + That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show: + If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, + Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I think thou art an ass. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Marry, so it doth appear + By the wrongs I suffer and the blows I bear. + I should kick, being kick'd; and, being at that pass, + You would keep from my heels and beware of an ass. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS You're sad, Signior Balthazar: pray God our cheer + May answer my good will and your good welcome here. + +BALTHAZAR I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your + welcome dear. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS O, Signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, + A table full of welcome make scarce one dainty dish. + +BALTHAZAR Good meat, sir, is common; that every churl affords. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS And welcome more common; for that's nothing but words. + +BALTHAZAR Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Ay, to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest: + But though my cates be mean, take them in good part; + Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. + But, soft! my door is lock'd. Go bid them let us in. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicel, Gillian, Ginn! + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, + idiot, patch! + Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch. + Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st + for such store, + When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS What patch is made our porter? My master stays in + the street. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Let him walk from whence he came, lest he + catch cold on's feet. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Who talks within there? ho, open the door! + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Right, sir; I'll tell you when, an you tell + me wherefore. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Wherefore? for my dinner: I have not dined to-day. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Nor to-day here you must not; come again + when you may. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS What art thou that keepest me out from the house I owe? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] The porter for this time, sir, and my name + is Dromio. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS O villain! thou hast stolen both mine office and my name. + The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. + If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place, + Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a name or thy + name for an ass. + +LUCE [Within] What a coil is there, Dromio? who are those + at the gate? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Let my master in, Luce. + +LUCE [Within] Faith, no; he comes too late; + And so tell your master. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS O Lord, I must laugh! + Have at you with a proverb--Shall I set in my staff? + +LUCE [Within] Have at you with another; that's--When? + can you tell? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] If thy name be call'd Luce--Luce, thou hast + answered him well. + +ANTIPHOLUS Do you hear, you minion? you'll let us in, I hope? +OF EPHESUS + +LUCE [Within] I thought to have asked you. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] And you said no. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS So, come, help: well struck! there was blow for blow. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Thou baggage, let me in. + +LUCE [Within] Can you tell for whose sake? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, knock the door hard. + +LUCE [Within] Let him knock till it ache. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS You'll cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. + +LUCE [Within] What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town? + +ADRIANA [Within] Who is that at the door that keeps all + this noise? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] By my troth, your town is troubled with + unruly boys. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Are you there, wife? you might have come before. + +ADRIANA [Within] Your wife, sir knave! go get you from the door. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS If you went in pain, master, this 'knave' would go sore. + +ANGELO Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome: we would + fain have either. + +BALTHAZAR In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS They stand at the door, master; bid them welcome hither. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. + Your cake there is warm within; you stand here in the cold: + It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Go fetch me something: I'll break ope the gate. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Break any breaking here, and I'll break your + knave's pate. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind, + Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] It seems thou want'st breaking: out upon + thee, hind! + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Here's too much 'out upon thee!' I pray thee, + let me in. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE [Within] Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Well, I'll break in: go borrow me a crow. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS A crow without feather? Master, mean you so? + For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without a feather; + If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow together. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Go get thee gone; fetch me an iron crow. + +BALTHAZAR Have patience, sir; O, let it not be so! + Herein you war against your reputation + And draw within the compass of suspect + The unviolated honour of your wife. + Once this,--your long experience of her wisdom, + Her sober virtue, years and modesty, + Plead on her part some cause to you unknown: + And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse + Why at this time the doors are made against you. + Be ruled by me: depart in patience, + And let us to the Tiger all to dinner, + And about evening come yourself alone + To know the reason of this strange restraint. + If by strong hand you offer to break in + Now in the stirring passage of the day, + A vulgar comment will be made of it, + And that supposed by the common rout + Against your yet ungalled estimation + That may with foul intrusion enter in + And dwell upon your grave when you are dead; + For slander lives upon succession, + For ever housed where it gets possession. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS You have prevailed: I will depart in quiet, + And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. + I know a wench of excellent discourse, + Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle: + There will we dine. This woman that I mean, + My wife--but, I protest, without desert-- + Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal: + To her will we to dinner. + + [To Angelo] + + Get you home + And fetch the chain; by this I know 'tis made: + Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine; + For there's the house: that chain will I bestow-- + Be it for nothing but to spite my wife-- + Upon mine hostess there: good sir, make haste. + Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, + I'll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain me. + +ANGELO I'll meet you at that place some hour hence. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter LUCIANA and ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse] + +LUCIANA And may it be that you have quite forgot + A husband's office? shall, Antipholus. + Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot? + Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous? + If you did wed my sister for her wealth, + Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness: + Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth; + Muffle your false love with some show of blindness: + Let not my sister read it in your eye; + Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; + Look sweet, be fair, become disloyalty; + Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger; + Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted; + Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; + Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted? + What simple thief brags of his own attaint? + 'Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed + And let her read it in thy looks at board: + Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed; + Ill deeds are doubled with an evil word. + Alas, poor women! make us but believe, + Being compact of credit, that you love us; + Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve; + We in your motion turn and you may move us. + Then, gentle brother, get you in again; + Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife: + 'Tis holy sport to be a little vain, + When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Sweet mistress--what your name is else, I know not, + Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,-- + Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not + Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. + Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; + Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, + Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, + The folded meaning of your words' deceit. + Against my soul's pure truth why labour you + To make it wander in an unknown field? + Are you a god? would you create me new? + Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. + But if that I am I, then well I know + Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, + Nor to her bed no homage do I owe + Far more, far more to you do I decline. + O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, + To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears: + Sing, siren, for thyself and I will dote: + Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, + And as a bed I'll take them and there lie, + And in that glorious supposition think + He gains by death that hath such means to die: + Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink! + +LUCIANA What, are you mad, that you do reason so? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Not mad, but mated; how, I do not know. + +LUCIANA It is a fault that springeth from your eye. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. + +LUCIANA Gaze where you should, and that will clear your sight. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE As good to wink, sweet love, as look on night. + + +LUCIANA Why call you me love? call my sister so. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thy sister's sister. + + +LUCIANA That's my sister. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE No; + It is thyself, mine own self's better part, + Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart, + My food, my fortune and my sweet hope's aim, + My sole earth's heaven and my heaven's claim. + +LUCIANA All this my sister is, or else should be. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Call thyself sister, sweet, for I am thee. + Thee will I love and with thee lead my life: + Thou hast no husband yet nor I no wife. + Give me thy hand. + +LUCIANA O, soft, air! hold you still: + I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. + + [Exit] + + [Enter DROMIO of Syracuse] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why, how now, Dromio! where runn'st thou so fast? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I your man? + am I myself? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thou art Dromio, thou art my man, thou art thyself. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I am an ass, I am a woman's man and besides myself. + +ANTIPHOLUS What woman's man? and how besides thyself? besides thyself? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one + that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What claim lays she to thee? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry sir, such claim as you would lay to your + horse; and she would have me as a beast: not that, I + being a beast, she would have me; but that she, + being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What is she? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A very reverent body; ay, such a one as a man may + not speak of without he say 'Sir-reverence.' I have + but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a + wondrous fat marriage. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE How dost thou mean a fat marriage? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, sir, she's the kitchen wench and all grease; + and I know not what use to put her to but to make a + lamp of her and run from her by her own light. I + warrant, her rags and the tallow in them will burn a + Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, + she'll burn a week longer than the whole world. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What complexion is she of? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Swart, like my shoe, but her face nothing half so + clean kept: for why, she sweats; a man may go over + shoes in the grime of it. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE That's a fault that water will mend. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, sir, 'tis in grain; Noah's flood could not do it. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What's her name? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nell, sir; but her name and three quarters, that's + an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from + hip to hip. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Then she bears some breadth? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip: + she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out + countries in her. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE In what part of her body stands Ireland? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, in her buttocks: I found it out by the bogs. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where Scotland? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I found it by the barrenness; hard in the palm of the hand. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where France? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE In her forehead; armed and reverted, making war + against her heir. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where England? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I looked for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no + whiteness in them; but I guess it stood in her chin, + by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where Spain? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Faith, I saw it not; but I felt it hot in her breath. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where America, the Indies? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Oh, sir, upon her nose all o'er embellished with + rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich + aspect to the hot breath of Spain; who sent whole + armadoes of caracks to be ballast at her nose. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Oh, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this + drudge, or diviner, laid claim to me, call'd me + Dromio; swore I was assured to her; told me what + privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my + shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my + left arm, that I amazed ran from her as a witch: + And, I think, if my breast had not been made of + faith and my heart of steel, + She had transform'd me to a curtal dog and made + me turn i' the wheel. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Go hie thee presently, post to the road: + An if the wind blow any way from shore, + I will not harbour in this town to-night: + If any bark put forth, come to the mart, + Where I will walk till thou return to me. + If every one knows us and we know none, + 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack and be gone. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE As from a bear a man would run for life, + So fly I from her that would be my wife. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE There's none but witches do inhabit here; + And therefore 'tis high time that I were hence. + She that doth call me husband, even my soul + Doth for a wife abhor. But her fair sister, + Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, + Of such enchanting presence and discourse, + Hath almost made me traitor to myself: + But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, + I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. + + [Enter ANGELO with the chain] + +ANGELO Master Antipholus,-- + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Ay, that's my name. + +ANGELO I know it well, sir, lo, here is the chain. + I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine: + The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What is your will that I shall do with this? + +ANGELO What please yourself, sir: I have made it for you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Made it for me, sir! I bespoke it not. + +ANGELO Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have. + Go home with it and please your wife withal; + And soon at supper-time I'll visit you + And then receive my money for the chain. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I pray you, sir, receive the money now, + For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. + +ANGELO You are a merry man, sir: fare you well. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What I should think of this, I cannot tell: + But this I think, there's no man is so vain + That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. + I see a man here needs not live by shifts, + When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. + I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay + If any ship put out, then straight away. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A public place. + + + [Enter Second Merchant, ANGELO, and an Officer] + +Second Merchant You know since Pentecost the sum is due, + And since I have not much importuned you; + Nor now I had not, but that I am bound + To Persia, and want guilders for my voyage: + Therefore make present satisfaction, + Or I'll attach you by this officer. + +ANGELO Even just the sum that I do owe to you + Is growing to me by Antipholus, + And in the instant that I met with you + He had of me a chain: at five o'clock + I shall receive the money for the same. + Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, + I will discharge my bond and thank you too. + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and DROMIO of Ephesus + from the courtezan's] + +Officer That labour may you save: see where he comes. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS While I go to the goldsmith's house, go thou + And buy a rope's end: that will I bestow + Among my wife and her confederates, + For locking me out of my doors by day. + But, soft! I see the goldsmith. Get thee gone; + Buy thou a rope and bring it home to me. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I buy a thousand pound a year: I buy a rope. + + [Exit] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS A man is well holp up that trusts to you: + I promised your presence and the chain; + But neither chain nor goldsmith came to me. + Belike you thought our love would last too long, + If it were chain'd together, and therefore came not. + +ANGELO Saving your merry humour, here's the note + How much your chain weighs to the utmost carat, + The fineness of the gold and chargeful fashion. + Which doth amount to three odd ducats more + Than I stand debted to this gentleman: + I pray you, see him presently discharged, + For he is bound to sea and stays but for it. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I am not furnish'd with the present money; + Besides, I have some business in the town. + Good signior, take the stranger to my house + And with you take the chain and bid my wife + Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof: + Perchance I will be there as soon as you. + +ANGELO Then you will bring the chain to her yourself? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS No; bear it with you, lest I come not time enough. + +ANGELO Well, sir, I will. Have you the chain about you? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS An if I have not, sir, I hope you have; + Or else you may return without your money. + +ANGELO Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me the chain: + Both wind and tide stays for this gentleman, + And I, to blame, have held him here too long. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Good Lord! you use this dalliance to excuse + Your breach of promise to the Porpentine. + I should have chid you for not bringing it, + But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. + +Second Merchant The hour steals on; I pray you, sir, dispatch. + +ANGELO You hear how he importunes me;--the chain! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Why, give it to my wife and fetch your money. + +ANGELO Come, come, you know I gave it you even now. + Either send the chain or send me by some token. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Fie, now you run this humour out of breath, + where's the chain? I pray you, let me see it. + +Second Merchant My business cannot brook this dalliance. + Good sir, say whether you'll answer me or no: + If not, I'll leave him to the officer. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I answer you! what should I answer you? + +ANGELO The money that you owe me for the chain. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I owe you none till I receive the chain. + +ANGELO You know I gave it you half an hour since. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS You gave me none: you wrong me much to say so. + +ANGELO You wrong me more, sir, in denying it: + Consider how it stands upon my credit. + +Second Merchant Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. + +Officer I do; and charge you in the duke's name to obey me. + +ANGELO This touches me in reputation. + Either consent to pay this sum for me + Or I attach you by this officer. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Consent to pay thee that I never had! + Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou darest. + +ANGELO Here is thy fee; arrest him, officer, + I would not spare my brother in this case, + If he should scorn me so apparently. + +Officer I do arrest you, sir: you hear the suit. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I do obey thee till I give thee bail. + But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear + As all the metal in your shop will answer. + +ANGELO Sir, sir, I will have law in Ephesus, + To your notorious shame; I doubt it not. + + [Enter DROMIO of Syracuse, from the bay] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, there is a bark of Epidamnum + That stays but till her owner comes aboard, + And then, sir, she bears away. Our fraughtage, sir, + I have convey'd aboard; and I have bought + The oil, the balsamum and aqua-vitae. + The ship is in her trim; the merry wind + Blows fair from land: they stay for nought at all + But for their owner, master, and yourself. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS How now! a madman! Why, thou peevish sheep, + What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE A ship you sent me to, to hire waftage. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for a rope; + And told thee to what purpose and what end. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE You sent me for a rope's end as soon: + You sent me to the bay, sir, for a bark. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I will debate this matter at more leisure + And teach your ears to list me with more heed. + To Adriana, villain, hie thee straight: + Give her this key, and tell her, in the desk + That's cover'd o'er with Turkish tapestry, + There is a purse of ducats; let her send it: + Tell her I am arrested in the street + And that shall bail me; hie thee, slave, be gone! + On, officer, to prison till it come. + + [Exeunt Second Merchant, Angelo, Officer, and + Antipholus of Ephesus] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE To Adriana! that is where we dined, + Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband: + She is too big, I hope, for me to compass. + Thither I must, although against my will, + For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The house of ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus. + + + [Enter ADRIANA and LUCIANA] + +ADRIANA Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? + Mightst thou perceive austerely in his eye + That he did plead in earnest? yea or no? + Look'd he or red or pale, or sad or merrily? + What observation madest thou in this case + Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face? + +LUCIANA First he denied you had in him no right. + +ADRIANA He meant he did me none; the more my spite. + +LUCIANA Then swore he that he was a stranger here. + +ADRIANA And true he swore, though yet forsworn he were. + +LUCIANA Then pleaded I for you. + +ADRIANA And what said he? + +LUCIANA That love I begg'd for you he begg'd of me. + +ADRIANA With what persuasion did he tempt thy love? + +LUCIANA With words that in an honest suit might move. + First he did praise my beauty, then my speech. + +ADRIANA Didst speak him fair? + +LUCIANA Have patience, I beseech. + +ADRIANA I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still; + My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. + He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, + Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; + Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; + Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. + +LUCIANA Who would be jealous then of such a one? + No evil lost is wail'd when it is gone. + +ADRIANA Ah, but I think him better than I say, + And yet would herein others' eyes were worse. + Far from her nest the lapwing cries away: + My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse. + + [Enter DROMIO of Syracuse] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Here! go; the desk, the purse! sweet, now, make haste. + +LUCIANA How hast thou lost thy breath? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE By running fast. + +ADRIANA Where is thy master, Dromio? is he well? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, he's in Tartar limbo, worse than hell. + A devil in an everlasting garment hath him; + One whose hard heart is button'd up with steel; + A fiend, a fury, pitiless and rough; + A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; + A back-friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that + countermands + The passages of alleys, creeks and narrow lands; + A hound that runs counter and yet draws dryfoot well; + One that before the judgement carries poor souls to hell. + +ADRIANA Why, man, what is the matter? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I do not know the matter: he is 'rested on the case. + +ADRIANA What, is he arrested? Tell me at whose suit. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I know not at whose suit he is arrested well; + But he's in a suit of buff which 'rested him, that can I tell. + Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the money in his desk? + +ADRIANA Go fetch it, sister. + + [Exit Luciana] + + This I wonder at, + That he, unknown to me, should be in debt. + Tell me, was he arrested on a band? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not on a band, but on a stronger thing; + A chain, a chain! Do you not hear it ring? + +ADRIANA What, the chain? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No, no, the bell: 'tis time that I were gone: + It was two ere I left him, and now the clock + strikes one. + +ADRIANA The hours come back! that did I never hear. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, yes; if any hour meet a sergeant, a' turns back for + very fear. + +ADRIANA As if Time were in debt! how fondly dost thou reason! + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's + worth, to season. + Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say + That Time comes stealing on by night and day? + If Time be in debt and theft, and a sergeant in the way, + Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? + + [Re-enter LUCIANA with a purse] + +ADRIANA Go, Dromio; there's the money, bear it straight; + And bring thy master home immediately. + Come, sister: I am press'd down with conceit-- + Conceit, my comfort and my injury. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A public place. + + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE There's not a man I meet but doth salute me + As if I were their well-acquainted friend; + And every one doth call me by my name. + Some tender money to me; some invite me; + Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; + Some offer me commodities to buy: + Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop + And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, + And therewithal took measure of my body. + Sure, these are but imaginary wiles + And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. + + [Enter DROMIO OF SYRACUSE] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, here's the gold you sent me for. What, have + you got the picture of old Adam new-apparelled? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What gold is this? what Adam dost thou mean? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not that Adam that kept the Paradise but that Adam + that keeps the prison: he that goes in the calf's + skin that was killed for the Prodigal; he that came + behind you, sir, like an evil angel, and bid you + forsake your liberty. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I understand thee not. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE No? why, 'tis a plain case: he that went, like a + bass-viol, in a case of leather; the man, sir, + that, when gentlemen are tired, gives them a sob + and 'rests them; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed + men and gives them suits of durance; he that sets up + his rest to do more exploits with his mace than a + morris-pike. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE What, thou meanest an officer? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band, he that brings + any man to answer it that breaks his band; one that + thinks a man always going to bed, and says, 'God + give you good rest!' + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Why, sir, I brought you word an hour since that the + bark Expedition put forth to-night; and then were + you hindered by the sergeant, to tarry for the hoy + Delay. Here are the angels that you sent for to + deliver you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE The fellow is distract, and so am I; + And here we wander in illusions: + Some blessed power deliver us from hence! + + [Enter a Courtezan] + +Courtezan Well met, well met, Master Antipholus. + I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now: + Is that the chain you promised me to-day? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Satan, avoid! I charge thee, tempt me not. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, is this Mistress Satan? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE It is the devil. + + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam; and here + she comes in the habit of a light wench: and thereof + comes that the wenches say 'God damn me;' that's as + much to say 'God make me a light wench.' It is + written, they appear to men like angels of light: + light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; + ergo, light wenches will burn. Come not near her. + +Courtezan Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. + Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner here? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat; or bespeak a + long spoon. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Why, Dromio? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Marry, he must have a long spoon that must eat with + the devil. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Avoid then, fiend! what tell'st thou me of supping? + Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress: + I conjure thee to leave me and be gone. + +Courtezan Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, + Or, for my diamond, the chain you promised, + And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, + A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, + A nut, a cherry-stone; + But she, more covetous, would have a chain. + Master, be wise: an if you give it her, + The devil will shake her chain and fright us with it. + +Courtezan I pray you, sir, my ring, or else the chain: + I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Avaunt, thou witch! Come, Dromio, let us go. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE 'Fly pride,' says the peacock: mistress, that you know. + + [Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse] + +Courtezan Now, out of doubt Antipholus is mad, + Else would he never so demean himself. + A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats, + And for the same he promised me a chain: + Both one and other he denies me now. + The reason that I gather he is mad, + Besides this present instance of his rage, + Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner, + Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. + Belike his wife, acquainted with his fits, + On purpose shut the doors against his way. + My way is now to hie home to his house, + And tell his wife that, being lunatic, + He rush'd into my house and took perforce + My ring away. This course I fittest choose; + For forty ducats is too much to lose. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV A street. + + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and the Officer] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Fear me not, man; I will not break away: + I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, + To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. + My wife is in a wayward mood to-day, + And will not lightly trust the messenger + That I should be attach'd in Ephesus, + I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. + + [Enter DROMIO of Ephesus with a rope's-end] + + Here comes my man; I think he brings the money. + How now, sir! have you that I sent you for? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Here's that, I warrant you, will pay them all. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS But where's the money? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS To what end did I bid thee hie thee home? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS To a rope's-end, sir; and to that end am I returned. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. + + [Beating him] + +Officer Good sir, be patient. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, 'tis for me to be patient; I am in adversity. + +Officer Good, now, hold thy tongue. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Thou whoreson, senseless villain! + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel + your blows. + +ANTIPHOLUS Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an + ass. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I am an ass, indeed; you may prove it by my long + ears. I have served him from the hour of my + nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his + hands for my service but blows. When I am cold, he + heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me + with beating; I am waked with it when I sleep; + raised with it when I sit; driven out of doors with + it when I go from home; welcomed home with it when + I return; nay, I bear it on my shoulders, as a + beggar wont her brat; and, I think when he hath + lamed me, I shall beg with it from door to door. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder. + + [Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the Courtezan, and PINCH] + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Mistress, 'respice finem,' respect your end; or + rather, the prophecy like the parrot, 'beware the + rope's-end.' + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Wilt thou still talk? + + [Beating him] + +Courtezan How say you now? is not your husband mad? + +ADRIANA His incivility confirms no less. + Good Doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; + Establish him in his true sense again, + And I will please you what you will demand. + +LUCIANA Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks! + +Courtezan Mark how he trembles in his ecstasy! + +PINCH Give me your hand and let me feel your pulse. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS There is my hand, and let it feel your ear. + + [Striking him] + +PINCH I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man, + To yield possession to my holy prayers + And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight: + I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Peace, doting wizard, peace! I am not mad. + +ADRIANA O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS You minion, you, are these your customers? + Did this companion with the saffron face + Revel and feast it at my house to-day, + Whilst upon me the guilty doors were shut + And I denied to enter in my house? + +ADRIANA O husband, God doth know you dined at home; + Where would you had remain'd until this time, + Free from these slanders and this open shame! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Dined at home! Thou villain, what sayest thou? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Were not my doors lock'd up and I shut out? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Perdie, your doors were lock'd and you shut out. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS And did not she herself revile me there? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sans fable, she herself reviled you there. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Certes, she did; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS And did not I in rage depart from thence? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS In verity you did; my bones bear witness, + That since have felt the vigour of his rage. + +ADRIANA Is't good to soothe him in these contraries? + +PINCH It is no shame: the fellow finds his vein, + And yielding to him humours well his frenzy. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Thou hast suborn'd the goldsmith to arrest me. + +ADRIANA Alas, I sent you money to redeem you, + By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Money by me! heart and goodwill you might; + But surely master, not a rag of money. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats? + +ADRIANA He came to me and I deliver'd it. + +LUCIANA And I am witness with her that she did. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS God and the rope-maker bear me witness + That I was sent for nothing but a rope! + +PINCH Mistress, both man and master is possess'd; + I know it by their pale and deadly looks: + They must be bound and laid in some dark room. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day? + And why dost thou deny the bag of gold? + +ADRIANA I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS And, gentle master, I received no gold; + But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. + +ADRIANA Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all; + And art confederate with a damned pack + To make a loathsome abject scorn of me: + But with these nails I'll pluck out these false eyes + That would behold in me this shameful sport. + + [Enter three or four, and offer to bind him. + He strives] + +ADRIANA O, bind him, bind him! let him not come near me. + +PINCH More company! The fiend is strong within him. + +LUCIANA Ay me, poor man, how pale and wan he looks! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS What, will you murder me? Thou gaoler, thou, + I am thy prisoner: wilt thou suffer them + To make a rescue? + +Officer Masters, let him go + He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. + +PINCH Go bind this man, for he is frantic too. + + [They offer to bind Dromio of Ephesus] + +ADRIANA What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer? + Hast thou delight to see a wretched man + Do outrage and displeasure to himself? + +Officer He is my prisoner: if I let him go, + The debt he owes will be required of me. + +ADRIANA I will discharge thee ere I go from thee: + Bear me forthwith unto his creditor, + And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. + Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd + Home to my house. O most unhappy day! + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS O most unhappy strumpet! + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Master, I am here entered in bond for you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Out on thee, villain! wherefore dost thou mad me? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Will you be bound for nothing? be mad, good master: + cry 'The devil!' + +LUCIANA God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk! + +ADRIANA Go bear him hence. Sister, go you with me. + + [Exeunt all but Adriana, Luciana, Officer and + Courtezan] + + Say now, whose suit is he arrested at? + +Officer One Angelo, a goldsmith: do you know him? + +ADRIANA I know the man. What is the sum he owes? + +Officer Two hundred ducats. + +ADRIANA Say, how grows it due? + +Officer Due for a chain your husband had of him. + +ADRIANA He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not. + +Courtezan When as your husband all in rage to-day + Came to my house and took away my ring-- + The ring I saw upon his finger now-- + Straight after did I meet him with a chain. + +ADRIANA It may be so, but I did never see it. + Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is: + I long to know the truth hereof at large. + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse with his rapier drawn, + and DROMIO of Syracuse] + +LUCIANA God, for thy mercy! they are loose again. + +ADRIANA And come with naked swords. + Let's call more help to have them bound again. + +Officer Away! they'll kill us. + + [Exeunt all but Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio + of Syracuse] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I see these witches are afraid of swords. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE She that would be your wife now ran from you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence: + I long that we were safe and sound aboard. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us + no harm: you saw they speak us fair, give us gold: + methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for + the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of + me, I could find in my heart to stay here still and + turn witch. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I will not stay to-night for all the town; + Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I A street before a Priory. + + + [Enter Second Merchant and ANGELO] + +ANGELO I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder'd you; + But, I protest, he had the chain of me, + Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. + +Second Merchant How is the man esteemed here in the city? + +ANGELO Of very reverend reputation, sir, + Of credit infinite, highly beloved, + Second to none that lives here in the city: + His word might bear my wealth at any time. + +Second Merchant Speak softly; yonder, as I think, he walks. + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and DROMIO of Syracuse] + +ANGELO 'Tis so; and that self chain about his neck + Which he forswore most monstrously to have. + Good sir, draw near to me, I'll speak to him. + Signior Antipholus, I wonder much + That you would put me to this shame and trouble; + And, not without some scandal to yourself, + With circumstance and oaths so to deny + This chain which now you wear so openly: + Beside the charge, the shame, imprisonment, + You have done wrong to this my honest friend, + Who, but for staying on our controversy, + Had hoisted sail and put to sea to-day: + This chain you had of me; can you deny it? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I think I had; I never did deny it. + +Second Merchant Yes, that you did, sir, and forswore it too. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Who heard me to deny it or forswear it? + +Second Merchant These ears of mine, thou know'st did hear thee. + Fie on thee, wretch! 'tis pity that thou livest + To walk where any honest man resort. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE Thou art a villain to impeach me thus: + I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty + Against thee presently, if thou darest stand. + +Second Merchant I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. + + [They draw] + + [Enter ADRIANA, LUCIANA, the Courtezan, and others] + +ADRIANA Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake! he is mad. + Some get within him, take his sword away: + Bind Dromio too, and bear them to my house. + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Run, master, run; for God's sake, take a house! + This is some priory. In, or we are spoil'd! + + [Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse + to the Priory] + + [Enter the Lady Abbess, AEMILIA] + +AEMELIA Be quiet, people. Wherefore throng you hither? + +ADRIANA To fetch my poor distracted husband hence. + Let us come in, that we may bind him fast + And bear him home for his recovery. + +ANGELO I knew he was not in his perfect wits. + +Second Merchant I am sorry now that I did draw on him. + +AEMELIA How long hath this possession held the man? + +ADRIANA This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad, + And much different from the man he was; + But till this afternoon his passion + Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. + +AEMELIA Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? + Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye + Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? + A sin prevailing much in youthful men, + Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. + Which of these sorrows is he subject to? + +ADRIANA To none of these, except it be the last; + Namely, some love that drew him oft from home. + +AEMELIA You should for that have reprehended him. + +ADRIANA Why, so I did. + +AEMELIA Ay, but not rough enough. + +ADRIANA As roughly as my modesty would let me. + +AEMELIA Haply, in private. + +ADRIANA And in assemblies too. + +AEMELIA Ay, but not enough. + +ADRIANA It was the copy of our conference: + In bed he slept not for my urging it; + At board he fed not for my urging it; + Alone, it was the subject of my theme; + In company I often glanced it; + Still did I tell him it was vile and bad. + +AEMELIA And thereof came it that the man was mad. + The venom clamours of a jealous woman + Poisons more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. + It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing, + And therefore comes it that his head is light. + Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: + Unquiet meals make ill digestions; + Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; + And what's a fever but a fit of madness? + Thou say'st his sports were hinderd by thy brawls: + Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue + But moody and dull melancholy, + Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, + And at her heels a huge infectious troop + Of pale distemperatures and foes to life? + In food, in sport and life-preserving rest + To be disturb'd, would mad or man or beast: + The consequence is then thy jealous fits + Have scared thy husband from the use of wits. + +LUCIANA She never reprehended him but mildly, + When he demean'd himself rough, rude and wildly. + Why bear you these rebukes and answer not? + +ADRIANA She did betray me to my own reproof. + Good people enter and lay hold on him. + +AEMELIA No, not a creature enters in my house. + +ADRIANA Then let your servants bring my husband forth. + +AEMELIA Neither: he took this place for sanctuary, + And it shall privilege him from your hands + Till I have brought him to his wits again, + Or lose my labour in assaying it. + +ADRIANA I will attend my husband, be his nurse, + Diet his sickness, for it is my office, + And will have no attorney but myself; + And therefore let me have him home with me. + +AEMELIA Be patient; for I will not let him stir + Till I have used the approved means I have, + With wholesome syrups, drugs and holy prayers, + To make of him a formal man again: + It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, + A charitable duty of my order. + Therefore depart and leave him here with me. + +ADRIANA I will not hence and leave my husband here: + And ill it doth beseem your holiness + To separate the husband and the wife. + +AEMELIA Be quiet and depart: thou shalt not have him. + + [Exit] + +LUCIANA Complain unto the duke of this indignity. + +ADRIANA Come, go: I will fall prostrate at his feet + And never rise until my tears and prayers + Have won his grace to come in person hither + And take perforce my husband from the abbess. + +Second Merchant By this, I think, the dial points at five: + Anon, I'm sure, the duke himself in person + Comes this way to the melancholy vale, + The place of death and sorry execution, + Behind the ditches of the abbey here. + +ANGELO Upon what cause? + +Second Merchant To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, + Who put unluckily into this bay + Against the laws and statutes of this town, + Beheaded publicly for his offence. + +ANGELO See where they come: we will behold his death. + +LUCIANA Kneel to the duke before he pass the abbey. + + [Enter DUKE SOLINUS, attended; AEGEON bareheaded; with the + Headsman and other Officers] + +DUKE SOLINUS Yet once again proclaim it publicly, + If any friend will pay the sum for him, + He shall not die; so much we tender him. + +ADRIANA Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess! + +DUKE SOLINUS She is a virtuous and a reverend lady: + It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. + +ADRIANA May it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband, + Whom I made lord of me and all I had, + At your important letters,--this ill day + A most outrageous fit of madness took him; + That desperately he hurried through the street, + With him his bondman, all as mad as he-- + Doing displeasure to the citizens + By rushing in their houses, bearing thence + Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. + Once did I get him bound and sent him home, + Whilst to take order for the wrongs I went, + That here and there his fury had committed. + Anon, I wot not by what strong escape, + He broke from those that had the guard of him; + And with his mad attendant and himself, + Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords, + Met us again and madly bent on us, + Chased us away; till, raising of more aid, + We came again to bind them. Then they fled + Into this abbey, whither we pursued them: + And here the abbess shuts the gates on us + And will not suffer us to fetch him out, + Nor send him forth that we may bear him hence. + Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command + Let him be brought forth and borne hence for help. + +DUKE SOLINUS Long since thy husband served me in my wars, + And I to thee engaged a prince's word, + When thou didst make him master of thy bed, + To do him all the grace and good I could. + Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate + And bid the lady abbess come to me. + I will determine this before I stir. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself! + My master and his man are both broke loose, + Beaten the maids a-row and bound the doctor + Whose beard they have singed off with brands of fire; + And ever, as it blazed, they threw on him + Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair: + My master preaches patience to him and the while + His man with scissors nicks him like a fool, + And sure, unless you send some present help, + Between them they will kill the conjurer. + +ADRIANA Peace, fool! thy master and his man are here, + And that is false thou dost report to us. + +Servant Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true; + I have not breathed almost since I did see it. + He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, + To scorch your face and to disfigure you. + + [Cry within] + + Hark, hark! I hear him, mistress. fly, be gone! + +DUKE SOLINUS Come, stand by me; fear nothing. Guard with halberds! + +ADRIANA Ay me, it is my husband! Witness you, + That he is borne about invisible: + Even now we housed him in the abbey here; + And now he's there, past thought of human reason. + + [Enter ANTIPHOLUS of Ephesus and DROMIO of Ephesus] + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Justice, most gracious duke, O, grant me justice! + Even for the service that long since I did thee, + When I bestrid thee in the wars and took + Deep scars to save thy life; even for the blood + That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. + +AEGEON Unless the fear of death doth make me dote, + I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there! + She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife, + That hath abused and dishonour'd me + Even in the strength and height of injury! + Beyond imagination is the wrong + That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. + +DUKE SOLINUS Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me, + While she with harlots feasted in my house. + +DUKE SOLINUS A grievous fault! Say, woman, didst thou so? + +ADRIANA No, my good lord: myself, he and my sister + To-day did dine together. So befall my soul + As this is false he burdens me withal! + +LUCIANA Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night, + But she tells to your highness simple truth! + +ANGELO O perjured woman! They are both forsworn: + In this the madman justly chargeth them. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS My liege, I am advised what I say, + Neither disturbed with the effect of wine, + Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire, + Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. + This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner: + That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, + Could witness it, for he was with me then; + Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, + Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, + Where Balthazar and I did dine together. + Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, + I went to seek him: in the street I met him + And in his company that gentleman. + There did this perjured goldsmith swear me down + That I this day of him received the chain, + Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which + He did arrest me with an officer. + I did obey, and sent my peasant home + For certain ducats: he with none return'd + Then fairly I bespoke the officer + To go in person with me to my house. + By the way we met + My wife, her sister, and a rabble more + Of vile confederates. Along with them + They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, + A mere anatomy, a mountebank, + A threadbare juggler and a fortune-teller, + A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, + A dead-looking man: this pernicious slave, + Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, + And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, + And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me, + Cries out, I was possess'd. Then all together + They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence + And in a dark and dankish vault at home + There left me and my man, both bound together; + Till, gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, + I gain'd my freedom, and immediately + Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech + To give me ample satisfaction + For these deep shames and great indignities. + +ANGELO My lord, in truth, thus far I witness with him, + That he dined not at home, but was lock'd out. + +DUKE SOLINUS But had he such a chain of thee or no? + +ANGELO He had, my lord: and when he ran in here, + These people saw the chain about his neck. + +Second Merchant Besides, I will be sworn these ears of mine + Heard you confess you had the chain of him + After you first forswore it on the mart: + And thereupon I drew my sword on you; + And then you fled into this abbey here, + From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I never came within these abbey-walls, + Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: + I never saw the chain, so help me Heaven! + And this is false you burden me withal. + +DUKE SOLINUS Why, what an intricate impeach is this! + I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup. + If here you housed him, here he would have been; + If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly: + You say he dined at home; the goldsmith here + Denies that saying. Sirrah, what say you? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Sir, he dined with her there, at the Porpentine. + +Courtezan He did, and from my finger snatch'd that ring. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS 'Tis true, my liege; this ring I had of her. + +DUKE SOLINUS Saw'st thou him enter at the abbey here? + +Courtezan As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. + +DUKE SOLINUS Why, this is strange. Go call the abbess hither. + I think you are all mated or stark mad. + + [Exit one to Abbess] + +AEGEON Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word: + Haply I see a friend will save my life + And pay the sum that may deliver me. + +DUKE SOLINUS Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. + +AEGEON Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus? + And is not that your bondman, Dromio? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Within this hour I was his bondman sir, + But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords: + Now am I Dromio and his man unbound. + +AEGEON I am sure you both of you remember me. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ourselves we do remember, sir, by you; + For lately we were bound, as you are now + You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir? + +AEGEON Why look you strange on me? you know me well. + +ANTIPHOLUS I never saw you in my life till now. + +AEGEON O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, + And careful hours with time's deformed hand + Have written strange defeatures in my face: + But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Neither. + +AEGEON Dromio, nor thou? + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, trust me, sir, nor I. + +AEGEON I am sure thou dost. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not; and whatsoever a + man denies, you are now bound to believe him. + +AEGEON Not know my voice! O time's extremity, + Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor tongue + In seven short years, that here my only son + Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares? + Though now this grained face of mine be hid + In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, + And all the conduits of my blood froze up, + Yet hath my night of life some memory, + My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, + My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: + All these old witnesses--I cannot err-- + Tell me thou art my son Antipholus. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I never saw my father in my life. + +AEGEON But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, + Thou know'st we parted: but perhaps, my son, + Thou shamest to acknowledge me in misery. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS The duke and all that know me in the city + Can witness with me that it is not so + I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. + +DUKE SOLINUS I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years + Have I been patron to Antipholus, + During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa: + I see thy age and dangers make thee dote. + + [Re-enter AEMILIA, with ANTIPHOLUS of Syracuse and + DROMIO of Syracuse] + +AEMELIA Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. + + [All gather to see them] + +ADRIANA I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. + +DUKE SOLINUS One of these men is Genius to the other; + And so of these. Which is the natural man, + And which the spirit? who deciphers them? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE I, sir, am Dromio; command him away. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS I, sir, am Dromio; pray, let me stay. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE AEgeon art thou not? or else his ghost? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE O, my old master! who hath bound him here? + +AEMELIA Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds + And gain a husband by his liberty. + Speak, old AEgeon, if thou be'st the man + That hadst a wife once call'd AEmilia + That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: + O, if thou be'st the same AEgeon, speak, + And speak unto the same AEmilia! + +AEGEON If I dream not, thou art AEmilia: + If thou art she, tell me where is that son + That floated with thee on the fatal raft? + +AEMELIA By men of Epidamnum he and I + And the twin Dromio all were taken up; + But by and by rude fishermen of Corinth + By force took Dromio and my son from them + And me they left with those of Epidamnum. + What then became of them I cannot tell + I to this fortune that you see me in. + +DUKE SOLINUS Why, here begins his morning story right; + These two Antipholuses, these two so like, + And these two Dromios, one in semblance,-- + Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,-- + These are the parents to these children, + Which accidentally are met together. + Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE No, sir, not I; I came from Syracuse. + +DUKE SOLINUS Stay, stand apart; I know not which is which. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord,-- + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS And I with him. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Brought to this town by that most famous warrior, + Duke Menaphon, your most renowned uncle. + +ADRIANA Which of you two did dine with me to-day? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I, gentle mistress. + +ADRIANA And are not you my husband? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS No; I say nay to that. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE And so do I; yet did she call me so: + And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, + Did call me brother. + + [To Luciana] + + What I told you then, + I hope I shall have leisure to make good; + If this be not a dream I see and hear. + +ANGELO That is the chain, sir, which you had of me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE I think it be, sir; I deny it not. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. + +ANGELO I think I did, sir; I deny it not. + +ADRIANA I sent you money, sir, to be your bail, + By Dromio; but I think he brought it not. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS No, none by me. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE This purse of ducats I received from you, + And Dromio, my man, did bring them me. + I see we still did meet each other's man, + And I was ta'en for him, and he for me, + And thereupon these errors are arose. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS These ducats pawn I for my father here. + +DUKE SOLINUS It shall not need; thy father hath his life. + +Courtezan Sir, I must have that diamond from you. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS There, take it; and much thanks for my good cheer. + +AEMELIA Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains + To go with us into the abbey here + And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes: + And all that are assembled in this place, + That by this sympathized one day's error + Have suffer'd wrong, go keep us company, + And we shall make full satisfaction. + Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail + Of you, my sons; and till this present hour + My heavy burden ne'er delivered. + The duke, my husband and my children both, + And you the calendars of their nativity, + Go to a gossips' feast and go with me; + After so long grief, such festivity! + +DUKE SOLINUS With all my heart, I'll gossip at this feast. + + [Exeunt all but Antipholus of Syracuse, Antipholus + of Ephesus, Dromio of Syracuse and Dromio of Ephesus] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Master, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard? + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF EPHESUS Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Your goods that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. + +ANTIPHOLUS +OF SYRACUSE He speaks to me. I am your master, Dromio: + Come, go with us; we'll look to that anon: + Embrace thy brother there; rejoice with him. + + [Exeunt Antipholus of Syracuse and Antipholus of Ephesus] + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE There is a fat friend at your master's house, + That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner: + She now shall be my sister, not my wife. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: + I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth. + Will you walk in to see their gossiping? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE Not I, sir; you are my elder. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS That's a question: how shall we try it? + +DROMIO OF SYRACUSE We'll draw cuts for the senior: till then lead thou first. + +DROMIO OF EPHESUS Nay, then, thus: + We came into the world like brother and brother; + And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another. + + [Exeunt] + CYMBELINE + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +CYMBELINE king of Britain. + +CLOTEN son to the Queen by a former husband. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS a gentleman, husband to Imogen. + +BELARIUS a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. + + +GUIDERIUS | sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names + | of Polydote and Cadwal, supposed sons to +ARVIRAGUS | Morgan. + + +PHILARIO friend to Posthumus, | + | Italians. +IACHIMO friend to Philario, | + + +CAIUS LUCIUS general of the Roman forces. + +PISANIO servant to Posthumus. + +CORNELIUS a physician. + + A Roman Captain. (Captain:) + + Two British Captains. + (First Captain:) + (Second Captain:) + + A Frenchman, friend to Philario. + (Frenchman:) + + Two Lords of Cymbeline's court. + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + + Two Gentlemen of the same. + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + + Two Gaolers. + (First Gaoler:) + (Second Gaoler:) + +QUEEN wife to Cymbeline. + +IMOGEN daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen. + +HELEN a lady attending on Imogen. + + Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, + a Soothsayer, a Dutchman, a Spaniard, Musicians, + Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, + and other Attendants. (Lord:) + (Lady:) + (First Lady:) + (First Senator:) + (Second Senator:) + (First Tribune:) + (Soothsayer:) + (Messenger:) + + Apparitions. + (Sicilius Leonatus:) + (Mother:) + (First Brother:) + (Second Brother:) + (Jupiter:) + +SCENE Britain; Rome. + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Britain. The garden of Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter two Gentlemen] + +First Gentleman You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods + No more obey the heavens than our courtiers + Still seem as does the king. + +Second Gentleman But what's the matter? + +First Gentleman His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom + He purposed to his wife's sole son--a widow + That late he married--hath referr'd herself + Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's wedded; + Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd: all + Is outward sorrow; though I think the king + Be touch'd at very heart. + +Second Gentleman None but the king? + +First Gentleman He that hath lost her too; so is the queen, + That most desired the match; but not a courtier, + Although they wear their faces to the bent + Of the king's look's, hath a heart that is not + Glad at the thing they scowl at. + +Second Gentleman And why so? + +First Gentleman He that hath miss'd the princess is a thing + Too bad for bad report: and he that hath her-- + I mean, that married her, alack, good man! + And therefore banish'd--is a creature such + As, to seek through the regions of the earth + For one his like, there would be something failing + In him that should compare. I do not think + So fair an outward and such stuff within + Endows a man but he. + +Second Gentleman You speak him far. + +First Gentleman I do extend him, sir, within himself, + Crush him together rather than unfold + His measure duly. + +Second Gentleman What's his name and birth? + +First Gentleman I cannot delve him to the root: his father + Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour + Against the Romans with Cassibelan, + But had his titles by Tenantius whom + He served with glory and admired success, + So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; + And had, besides this gentleman in question, + Two other sons, who in the wars o' the time + Died with their swords in hand; for which + their father, + Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow + That he quit being, and his gentle lady, + Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased + As he was born. The king he takes the babe + To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, + Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, + Puts to him all the learnings that his time + Could make him the receiver of; which he took, + As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd, + And in's spring became a harvest, lived in court-- + Which rare it is to do--most praised, most loved, + A sample to the youngest, to the more mature + A glass that feated them, and to the graver + A child that guided dotards; to his mistress, + For whom he now is banish'd, her own price + Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; + By her election may be truly read + What kind of man he is. + +Second Gentleman I honour him + Even out of your report. But, pray you, tell me, + Is she sole child to the king? + +First Gentleman His only child. + He had two sons: if this be worth your hearing, + Mark it: the eldest of them at three years old, + I' the swathing-clothes the other, from their nursery + Were stol'n, and to this hour no guess in knowledge + Which way they went. + +Second Gentleman How long is this ago? + +First Gentleman Some twenty years. + +Second Gentleman That a king's children should be so convey'd, + So slackly guarded, and the search so slow, + That could not trace them! + +First Gentleman Howsoe'er 'tis strange, + Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, + Yet is it true, sir. + +Second Gentleman I do well believe you. + +First Gentleman We must forbear: here comes the gentleman, + The queen, and princess. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and IMOGEN] + +QUEEN No, be assured you shall not find me, daughter, + After the slander of most stepmothers, + Evil-eyed unto you: you're my prisoner, but + Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys + That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, + So soon as I can win the offended king, + I will be known your advocate: marry, yet + The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good + You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience + Your wisdom may inform you. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Please your highness, + I will from hence to-day. + +QUEEN You know the peril. + I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying + The pangs of barr'd affections, though the king + Hath charged you should not speak together. + + [Exit] + +IMOGEN O + Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant + Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, + I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing-- + Always reserved my holy duty--what + His rage can do on me: you must be gone; + And I shall here abide the hourly shot + Of angry eyes, not comforted to live, + But that there is this jewel in the world + That I may see again. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS My queen! my mistress! + O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause + To be suspected of more tenderness + Than doth become a man. I will remain + The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth: + My residence in Rome at one Philario's, + Who to my father was a friend, to me + Known but by letter: thither write, my queen, + And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send, + Though ink be made of gall. + + [Re-enter QUEEN] + +QUEEN Be brief, I pray you: + If the king come, I shall incur I know not + How much of his displeasure. + + [Aside] + + Yet I'll move him + To walk this way: I never do him wrong, + But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; + Pays dear for my offences. + + [Exit] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Should we be taking leave + As long a term as yet we have to live, + The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! + +IMOGEN Nay, stay a little: + Were you but riding forth to air yourself, + Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; + This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; + But keep it till you woo another wife, + When Imogen is dead. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How, how! another? + You gentle gods, give me but this I have, + And sear up my embracements from a next + With bonds of death! + + [Putting on the ring] + + Remain, remain thou here + While sense can keep it on. And, sweetest, fairest, + As I my poor self did exchange for you, + To your so infinite loss, so in our trifles + I still win of you: for my sake wear this; + It is a manacle of love; I'll place it + Upon this fairest prisoner. + + [Putting a bracelet upon her arm] + +IMOGEN O the gods! + When shall we see again? + + [Enter CYMBELINE and Lords] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Alack, the king! + +CYMBELINE Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from my sight! + If after this command thou fraught the court + With thy unworthiness, thou diest: away! + Thou'rt poison to my blood. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The gods protect you! + And bless the good remainders of the court! I am gone. + + [Exit] + +IMOGEN There cannot be a pinch in death + More sharp than this is. + +CYMBELINE O disloyal thing, + That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap'st + A year's age on me. + +IMOGEN I beseech you, sir, + Harm not yourself with your vexation + I am senseless of your wrath; a touch more rare + Subdues all pangs, all fears. + +CYMBELINE Past grace? obedience? + +IMOGEN Past hope, and in despair; that way, past grace. + +CYMBELINE That mightst have had the sole son of my queen! + +IMOGEN O blest, that I might not! I chose an eagle, + And did avoid a puttock. + +CYMBELINE Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have made my throne + A seat for baseness. + +IMOGEN No; I rather added + A lustre to it. + +CYMBELINE O thou vile one! + +IMOGEN Sir, + It is your fault that I have loved Posthumus: + You bred him as my playfellow, and he is + A man worth any woman, overbuys me + Almost the sum he pays. + +CYMBELINE What, art thou mad? + +IMOGEN Almost, sir: heaven restore me! Would I were + A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus + Our neighbour shepherd's son! + +CYMBELINE Thou foolish thing! + + [Re-enter QUEEN] + + They were again together: you have done + Not after our command. Away with her, + And pen her up. + +QUEEN Beseech your patience. Peace, + Dear lady daughter, peace! Sweet sovereign, + Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some comfort + Out of your best advice. + +CYMBELINE Nay, let her languish + A drop of blood a day; and, being aged, + Die of this folly! + + [Exeunt CYMBELINE and Lords] + +QUEEN Fie! you must give way. + + [Enter PISANIO] + + Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news? + +PISANIO My lord your son drew on my master. + +QUEEN Ha! + No harm, I trust, is done? + +PISANIO There might have been, + But that my master rather play'd than fought + And had no help of anger: they were parted + By gentlemen at hand. + +QUEEN I am very glad on't. + +IMOGEN Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part. + To draw upon an exile! O brave sir! + I would they were in Afric both together; + Myself by with a needle, that I might prick + The goer-back. Why came you from your master? + +PISANIO On his command: he would not suffer me + To bring him to the haven; left these notes + Of what commands I should be subject to, + When 't pleased you to employ me. + +QUEEN This hath been + Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour + He will remain so. + +PISANIO I humbly thank your highness. + +QUEEN Pray, walk awhile. + +IMOGEN About some half-hour hence, + I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least + Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. A public place. + + + [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] + +First Lord Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the + violence of action hath made you reek as a + sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in: + there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent. + +CLOTEN If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him? + +Second Lord [Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience. + +First Lord Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be + not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt. + +Second Lord [Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the + backside the town. + +CLOTEN The villain would not stand me. + +Second Lord [Aside] No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. + +First Lord Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but + he added to your having; gave you some ground. + +Second Lord [Aside] As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies! + +CLOTEN I would they had not come between us. + +Second Lord [Aside] So would I, till you had measured how long + a fool you were upon the ground. + +CLOTEN And that she should love this fellow and refuse me! + +Second Lord [Aside] If it be a sin to make a true election, she + is damned. + +First Lord Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain + go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen + small reflection of her wit. + +Second Lord [Aside] She shines not upon fools, lest the + reflection should hurt her. + +CLOTEN Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had been some + hurt done! + +Second Lord [Aside] I wish not so; unless it had been the fall + of an ass, which is no great hurt. + +CLOTEN You'll go with us? + +First Lord I'll attend your lordship. + +CLOTEN Nay, come, let's go together. + +Second Lord Well, my lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter IMOGEN and PISANIO] + +IMOGEN I would thou grew'st unto the shores o' the haven, + And question'dst every sail: if he should write + And not have it, 'twere a paper lost, + As offer'd mercy is. What was the last + That he spake to thee? + +PISANIO It was his queen, his queen! + +IMOGEN Then waved his handkerchief? + +PISANIO And kiss'd it, madam. + +IMOGEN Senseless Linen! happier therein than I! + And that was all? + +PISANIO No, madam; for so long + As he could make me with this eye or ear + Distinguish him from others, he did keep + The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, + Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind + Could best express how slow his soul sail'd on, + How swift his ship. + +IMOGEN Thou shouldst have made him + As little as a crow, or less, ere left + To after-eye him. + +PISANIO Madam, so I did. + +IMOGEN I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd them, but + To look upon him, till the diminution + Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle, + Nay, follow'd him, till he had melted from + The smallness of a gnat to air, and then + Have turn'd mine eye and wept. But, good Pisanio, + When shall we hear from him? + +PISANIO Be assured, madam, + With his next vantage. + +IMOGEN I did not take my leave of him, but had + Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him + How I would think on him at certain hours + Such thoughts and such, or I could make him swear + The shes of Italy should not betray + Mine interest and his honour, or have charged him, + At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, + To encounter me with orisons, for then + I am in heaven for him; or ere I could + Give him that parting kiss which I had set + Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father + And like the tyrannous breathing of the north + Shakes all our buds from growing. + + [Enter a Lady] + +Lady The queen, madam, + Desires your highness' company. + +IMOGEN Those things I bid you do, get them dispatch'd. + I will attend the queen. + +PISANIO Madam, I shall. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. + + + [Enter PHILARIO, IACHIMO, a Frenchman, a + Dutchman, and a Spaniard] + +IACHIMO Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Britain: he was + then of a crescent note, expected to prove so worthy + as since he hath been allowed the name of; but I + could then have looked on him without the help of + admiration, though the catalogue of his endowments + had been tabled by his side and I to peruse him by items. + +PHILARIO You speak of him when he was less furnished than now + he is with that which makes him both without and within. + +Frenchman I have seen him in France: we had very many there + could behold the sun with as firm eyes as he. + +IACHIMO This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein + he must be weighed rather by her value than his own, + words him, I doubt not, a great deal from the matter. + +Frenchman And then his banishment. + +IACHIMO Ay, and the approbation of those that weep this + lamentable divorce under her colours are wonderfully + to extend him; be it but to fortify her judgment, + which else an easy battery might lay flat, for + taking a beggar without less quality. But how comes + it he is to sojourn with you? How creeps + acquaintance? + +PHILARIO His father and I were soldiers together; to whom I + have been often bound for no less than my life. + Here comes the Briton: let him be so entertained + amongst you as suits, with gentlemen of your + knowing, to a stranger of his quality. + + [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] + + I beseech you all, be better known to this + gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble friend + of mine: how worthy he is I will leave to appear + hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing. + +Frenchman Sir, we have known together in Orleans. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies, + which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still. + +Frenchman Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: I was glad I + did atone my countryman and you; it had been pity + you should have been put together with so mortal a + purpose as then each bore, upon importance of so + slight and trivial a nature. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS By your pardon, sir, I was then a young traveller; + rather shunned to go even with what I heard than in + my every action to be guided by others' experiences: + but upon my mended judgment--if I offend not to say + it is mended--my quarrel was not altogether slight. + +Frenchman 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitrement of swords, + and by such two that would by all likelihood have + confounded one the other, or have fallen both. + +IACHIMO Can we, with manners, ask what was the difference? + +Frenchman Safely, I think: 'twas a contention in public, + which may, without contradiction, suffer the report. + It was much like an argument that fell out last + night, where each of us fell in praise of our + country mistresses; this gentleman at that time + vouching--and upon warrant of bloody + affirmation--his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, + chaste, constant-qualified and less attemptable + than any the rarest of our ladies in France. + +IACHIMO That lady is not now living, or this gentleman's + opinion by this worn out. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS She holds her virtue still and I my mind. + +IACHIMO You must not so far prefer her 'fore ours of Italy. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Being so far provoked as I was in France, I would + abate her nothing, though I profess myself her + adorer, not her friend. + +IACHIMO As fair and as good--a kind of hand-in-hand + comparison--had been something too fair and too good + for any lady in Britain. If she went before others + I have seen, as that diamond of yours outlustres + many I have beheld. I could not but believe she + excelled many: but I have not seen the most + precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I praised her as I rated her: so do I my stone. + +IACHIMO What do you esteem it at? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS More than the world enjoys. + +IACHIMO Either your unparagoned mistress is dead, or she's + outprized by a trifle. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are mistaken: the one may be sold, or given, if + there were wealth enough for the purchase, or merit + for the gift: the other is not a thing for sale, + and only the gift of the gods. + +IACHIMO Which the gods have given you? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Which, by their graces, I will keep. + +IACHIMO You may wear her in title yours: but, you know, + strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds. Your + ring may be stolen too: so your brace of unprizable + estimations; the one is but frail and the other + casual; a cunning thief, or a that way accomplished + courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your Italy contains none so accomplished a courtier + to convince the honour of my mistress, if, in the + holding or loss of that, you term her frail. I do + nothing doubt you have store of thieves; + notwithstanding, I fear not my ring. + +PHILARIO Let us leave here, gentlemen. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Sir, with all my heart. This worthy signior, I + thank him, makes no stranger of me; we are familiar at first. + +IACHIMO With five times so much conversation, I should get + ground of your fair mistress, make her go back, even + to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to friend. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No, no. + +IACHIMO I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to + your ring; which, in my opinion, o'ervalues it + something: but I make my wager rather against your + confidence than her reputation: and, to bar your + offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any + lady in the world. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS You are a great deal abused in too bold a + persuasion; and I doubt not you sustain what you're + worthy of by your attempt. + +IACHIMO What's that? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A repulse: though your attempt, as you call it, + deserve more; a punishment too. + +PHILARIO Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in too suddenly; + let it die as it was born, and, I pray you, be + better acquainted. + +IACHIMO Would I had put my estate and my neighbour's on the + approbation of what I have spoke! + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS What lady would you choose to assail? + +IACHIMO Yours; whom in constancy you think stands so safe. + I will lay you ten thousand ducats to your ring, + that, commend me to the court where your lady is, + with no more advantage than the opportunity of a + second conference, and I will bring from thence + that honour of hers which you imagine so reserved. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I will wage against your gold, gold to it: my ring + I hold dear as my finger; 'tis part of it. + +IACHIMO You are afraid, and therein the wiser. If you buy + ladies' flesh at a million a dram, you cannot + preserve it from tainting: but I see you have some + religion in you, that you fear. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is but a custom in your tongue; you bear a + graver purpose, I hope. + +IACHIMO I am the master of my speeches, and would undergo + what's spoken, I swear. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Will you? I shall but lend my diamond till your + return: let there be covenants drawn between's: my + mistress exceeds in goodness the hugeness of your + unworthy thinking: I dare you to this match: here's my ring. + +PHILARIO I will have it no lay. + +IACHIMO By the gods, it is one. If I bring you no + sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest + bodily part of your mistress, my ten thousand ducats + are yours; so is your diamond too: if I come off, + and leave her in such honour as you have trust in, + she your jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are + yours: provided I have your commendation for my more + free entertainment. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I embrace these conditions; let us have articles + betwixt us. Only, thus far you shall answer: if + you make your voyage upon her and give me directly + to understand you have prevailed, I am no further + your enemy; she is not worth our debate: if she + remain unseduced, you not making it appear + otherwise, for your ill opinion and the assault you + have made to her chastity you shall answer me with + your sword. + +IACHIMO Your hand; a covenant: we will have these things set + down by lawful counsel, and straight away for + Britain, lest the bargain should catch cold and + starve: I will fetch my gold and have our two + wagers recorded. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Agreed. + + [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and IACHIMO] + +Frenchman Will this hold, think you? + +PHILARIO Signior Iachimo will not from it. + Pray, let us follow 'em. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Britain. A room in Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter QUEEN, Ladies, and CORNELIUS] + +QUEEN Whiles yet the dew's on ground, gather those flowers; + Make haste: who has the note of them? + +First Lady I, madam. + +QUEEN Dispatch. + + [Exeunt Ladies] + + Now, master doctor, have you brought those drugs? + +CORNELIUS Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they are, madam: + + [Presenting a small box] + + But I beseech your grace, without offence,-- + My conscience bids me ask--wherefore you have + Commanded of me those most poisonous compounds, + Which are the movers of a languishing death; + But though slow, deadly? + +QUEEN I wonder, doctor, + Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not been + Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learn'd me how + To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so + That our great king himself doth woo me oft + For my confections? Having thus far proceeded,-- + Unless thou think'st me devilish--is't not meet + That I did amplify my judgment in + Other conclusions? I will try the forces + Of these thy compounds on such creatures as + We count not worth the hanging, but none human, + To try the vigour of them and apply + Allayments to their act, and by them gather + Their several virtues and effects. + +CORNELIUS Your highness + Shall from this practise but make hard your heart: + Besides, the seeing these effects will be + Both noisome and infectious. + +QUEEN O, content thee. + + [Enter PISANIO] + + [Aside] + + Here comes a flattering rascal; upon him + Will I first work: he's for his master, + An enemy to my son. How now, Pisanio! + Doctor, your service for this time is ended; + Take your own way. + +CORNELIUS [Aside] I do suspect you, madam; + But you shall do no harm. + +QUEEN [To PISANIO] Hark thee, a word. + +CORNELIUS [Aside] I do not like her. She doth think she has + Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit, + And will not trust one of her malice with + A drug of such damn'd nature. Those she has + Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile; + Which first, perchance, she'll prove on + cats and dogs, + Then afterward up higher: but there is + No danger in what show of death it makes, + More than the locking-up the spirits a time, + To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd + With a most false effect; and I the truer, + So to be false with her. + +QUEEN No further service, doctor, + Until I send for thee. + +CORNELIUS I humbly take my leave. + + [Exit] + +QUEEN Weeps she still, say'st thou? Dost thou think in time + She will not quench and let instructions enter + Where folly now possesses? Do thou work: + When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son, + I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then + As great as is thy master, greater, for + His fortunes all lie speechless and his name + Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor + Continue where he is: to shift his being + Is to exchange one misery with another, + And every day that comes comes to decay + A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect, + To be depender on a thing that leans, + Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends, + So much as but to prop him? + + [The QUEEN drops the box: PISANIO takes it up] + + Thou takest up + Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy labour: + It is a thing I made, which hath the king + Five times redeem'd from death: I do not know + What is more cordial. Nay, I prethee, take it; + It is an earnest of a further good + That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how + The case stands with her; do't as from thyself. + Think what a chance thou changest on, but think + Thou hast thy mistress still, to boot, my son, + Who shall take notice of thee: I'll move the king + To any shape of thy preferment such + As thou'lt desire; and then myself, I chiefly, + That set thee on to this desert, am bound + To load thy merit richly. Call my women: + Think on my words. + + [Exit PISANIO] + + A sly and constant knave, + Not to be shaked; the agent for his master + And the remembrancer of her to hold + The hand-fast to her lord. I have given him that + Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her + Of liegers for her sweet, and which she after, + Except she bend her humour, shall be assured + To taste of too. + + [Re-enter PISANIO and Ladies] + + So, so: well done, well done: + The violets, cowslips, and the primroses, + Bear to my closet. Fare thee well, Pisanio; + Think on my words. + + [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies] + +PISANIO And shall do: + But when to my good lord I prove untrue, + I'll choke myself: there's all I'll do for you. + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VI The same. Another room in the palace. + + + [Enter IMOGEN] + +IMOGEN A father cruel, and a step-dame false; + A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, + That hath her husband banish'd;--O, that husband! + My supreme crown of grief! and those repeated + Vexations of it! Had I been thief-stol'n, + As my two brothers, happy! but most miserable + Is the desire that's glorious: blest be those, + How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, + Which seasons comfort. Who may this be? Fie! + + [Enter PISANIO and IACHIMO] + +PISANIO Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome, + Comes from my lord with letters. + +IACHIMO Change you, madam? + The worthy Leonatus is in safety + And greets your highness dearly. + + [Presents a letter] + +IMOGEN Thanks, good sir: + You're kindly welcome. + +IACHIMO [Aside] All of her that is out of door most rich! + If she be furnish'd with a mind so rare, + She is alone the Arabian bird, and I + Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! + Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! + Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; + Rather directly fly. + +IMOGEN [Reads] 'He is one of the noblest note, to whose + kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect upon + him accordingly, as you value your trust-- + LEONATUS.' + So far I read aloud: + But even the very middle of my heart + Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully. + You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I + Have words to bid you, and shall find it so + In all that I can do. + +IACHIMO Thanks, fairest lady. + What, are men mad? Hath nature given them eyes + To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop + Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt + The fiery orbs above and the twinn'd stones + Upon the number'd beach? and can we not + Partition make with spectacles so precious + 'Twixt fair and foul? + +IMOGEN What makes your admiration? + +IACHIMO It cannot be i' the eye, for apes and monkeys + 'Twixt two such shes would chatter this way and + Contemn with mows the other; nor i' the judgment, + For idiots in this case of favour would + Be wisely definite; nor i' the appetite; + Sluttery to such neat excellence opposed + Should make desire vomit emptiness, + Not so allured to feed. + +IMOGEN What is the matter, trow? + +IACHIMO The cloyed will, + That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub + Both fill'd and running, ravening first the lamb + Longs after for the garbage. + +IMOGEN What, dear sir, + Thus raps you? Are you well? + +IACHIMO Thanks, madam; well. + + [To PISANIO] + + Beseech you, sir, desire + My man's abode where I did leave him: he + Is strange and peevish. + +PISANIO I was going, sir, + To give him welcome. + + [Exit] + +IMOGEN Continues well my lord? His health, beseech you? + +IACHIMO Well, madam. + +IMOGEN Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. + +IACHIMO Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger there + So merry and so gamesome: he is call'd + The Briton reveller. + +IMOGEN When he was here, + He did incline to sadness, and oft-times + Not knowing why. + +IACHIMO I never saw him sad. + There is a Frenchman his companion, one + An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves + A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces + The thick sighs from him, whiles the jolly Briton-- + Your lord, I mean--laughs from's free lungs, cries 'O, + Can my sides hold, to think that man, who knows + By history, report, or his own proof, + What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose + But must be, will his free hours languish for + Assured bondage?' + +IMOGEN Will my lord say so? + +IACHIMO Ay, madam, with his eyes in flood with laughter: + It is a recreation to be by + And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, heavens know, + Some men are much to blame. + +IMOGEN Not he, I hope. + +IACHIMO Not he: but yet heaven's bounty towards him might + Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis much; + In you, which I account his beyond all talents, + Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound + To pity too. + +IMOGEN What do you pity, sir? + +IACHIMO Two creatures heartily. + +IMOGEN Am I one, sir? + You look on me: what wreck discern you in me + Deserves your pity? + +IACHIMO Lamentable! What, + To hide me from the radiant sun and solace + I' the dungeon by a snuff? + +IMOGEN I pray you, sir, + Deliver with more openness your answers + To my demands. Why do you pity me? + +IACHIMO That others do-- + I was about to say--enjoy your--But + It is an office of the gods to venge it, + Not mine to speak on 't. + +IMOGEN You do seem to know + Something of me, or what concerns me: pray you,-- + Since doubling things go ill often hurts more + Than to be sure they do; for certainties + Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, + The remedy then born--discover to me + What both you spur and stop. + +IACHIMO Had I this cheek + To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, + Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul + To the oath of loyalty; this object, which + Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, + Fixing it only here; should I, damn'd then, + Slaver with lips as common as the stairs + That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands + Made hard with hourly falsehood--falsehood, as + With labour; then by-peeping in an eye + Base and unlustrous as the smoky light + That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit + That all the plagues of hell should at one time + Encounter such revolt. + +IMOGEN My lord, I fear, + Has forgot Britain. + +IACHIMO And himself. Not I, + Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce + The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces + That from pay mutest conscience to my tongue + Charms this report out. + +IMOGEN Let me hear no more. + +IACHIMO O dearest soul! your cause doth strike my heart + With pity, that doth make me sick. A lady + So fair, and fasten'd to an empery, + Would make the great'st king double,--to be partner'd + With tomboys hired with that self-exhibition + Which your own coffers yield! with diseased ventures + That play with all infirmities for gold + Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd stuff + As well might poison poison! Be revenged; + Or she that bore you was no queen, and you + Recoil from your great stock. + +IMOGEN Revenged! + How should I be revenged? If this be true,-- + As I have such a heart that both mine ears + Must not in haste abuse--if it be true, + How should I be revenged? + +IACHIMO Should he make me + Live, like Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets, + Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps, + In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge it. + I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure, + More noble than that runagate to your bed, + And will continue fast to your affection, + Still close as sure. + +IMOGEN What, ho, Pisanio! + +IACHIMO Let me my service tender on your lips. + +IMOGEN Away! I do condemn mine ears that have + So long attended thee. If thou wert honourable, + Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not + For such an end thou seek'st,--as base as strange. + Thou wrong'st a gentleman, who is as far + From thy report as thou from honour, and + Solicit'st here a lady that disdains + Thee and the devil alike. What ho, Pisanio! + The king my father shall be made acquainted + Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit, + A saucy stranger in his court to mart + As in a Romish stew and to expound + His beastly mind to us, he hath a court + He little cares for and a daughter who + He not respects at all. What, ho, Pisanio! + +IACHIMO O happy Leonatus! I may say + The credit that thy lady hath of thee + Deserves thy trust, and thy most perfect goodness + Her assured credit. Blessed live you long! + A lady to the worthiest sir that ever + Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only + For the most worthiest fit! Give me your pardon. + I have spoke this, to know if your affiance + Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, + That which he is, new o'er: and he is one + The truest manner'd; such a holy witch + That he enchants societies into him; + Half all men's hearts are his. + +IMOGEN You make amends. + +IACHIMO He sits 'mongst men like a descended god: + He hath a kind of honour sets him off, + More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, + Most mighty princess, that I have adventured + To try your taking a false report; which hath + Honour'd with confirmation your great judgment + In the election of a sir so rare, + Which you know cannot err: the love I bear him + Made me to fan you thus, but the gods made you, + Unlike all others, chaffless. Pray, your pardon. + +IMOGEN All's well, sir: take my power i' the court + for yours. + +IACHIMO My humble thanks. I had almost forgot + To entreat your grace but in a small request, + And yet of moment to, for it concerns + Your lord; myself and other noble friends, + Are partners in the business. + +IMOGEN Pray, what is't? + +IACHIMO Some dozen Romans of us and your lord-- + The best feather of our wing--have mingled sums + To buy a present for the emperor + Which I, the factor for the rest, have done + In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels + Of rich and exquisite form; their values great; + And I am something curious, being strange, + To have them in safe stowage: may it please you + To take them in protection? + +IMOGEN Willingly; + And pawn mine honour for their safety: since + My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them + In my bedchamber. + +IACHIMO They are in a trunk, + Attended by my men: I will make bold + To send them to you, only for this night; + I must aboard to-morrow. + +IMOGEN O, no, no. + +IACHIMO Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my word + By lengthening my return. From Gallia + I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise + To see your grace. + +IMOGEN I thank you for your pains: + But not away to-morrow! + +IACHIMO O, I must, madam: + Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please + To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night: + I have outstood my time; which is material + To the tender of our present. + +IMOGEN I will write. + Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, + And truly yielded you. You're very welcome. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Britain. Before Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter CLOTEN and two Lords] + +CLOTEN Was there ever man had such luck! when I kissed the + jack, upon an up-cast to be hit away! I had a + hundred pound on't: and then a whoreson jackanapes + must take me up for swearing; as if I borrowed mine + oaths of him and might not spend them at my pleasure. + +First Lord What got he by that? You have broke his pate with + your bowl. + +Second Lord [Aside] If his wit had been like him that broke it, + it would have run all out. + +CLOTEN When a gentleman is disposed to swear, it is not for + any standers-by to curtail his oaths, ha? + +Second Lord No my lord; + + [Aside] + + nor crop the ears of them. + +CLOTEN Whoreson dog! I give him satisfaction? + Would he had been one of my rank! + +Second Lord [Aside] To have smelt like a fool. + +CLOTEN I am not vexed more at any thing in the earth: a + pox on't! I had rather not be so noble as I am; + they dare not fight with me, because of the queen my + mother: every Jack-slave hath his bellyful of + fighting, and I must go up and down like a cock that + nobody can match. + +Second Lord [Aside] You are cock and capon too; and you crow, + cock, with your comb on. + +CLOTEN Sayest thou? + +Second Lord It is not fit your lordship should undertake every + companion that you give offence to. + +CLOTEN No, I know that: but it is fit I should commit + offence to my inferiors. + +Second Lord Ay, it is fit for your lordship only. + +CLOTEN Why, so I say. + +First Lord Did you hear of a stranger that's come to court to-night? + +CLOTEN A stranger, and I not know on't! + +Second Lord [Aside] He's a strange fellow himself, and knows it + not. + +First Lord There's an Italian come; and, 'tis thought, one of + Leonatus' friends. + +CLOTEN Leonatus! a banished rascal; and he's another, + whatsoever he be. Who told you of this stranger? + +First Lord One of your lordship's pages. + +CLOTEN Is it fit I went to look upon him? is there no + derogation in't? + +Second Lord You cannot derogate, my lord. + +CLOTEN Not easily, I think. + +Second Lord [Aside] You are a fool granted; therefore your + issues, being foolish, do not derogate. + +CLOTEN Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I have lost + to-day at bowls I'll win to-night of him. Come, go. + +Second Lord I'll attend your lordship. + + [Exeunt CLOTEN and First Lord] + + That such a crafty devil as is his mother + Should yield the world this ass! a woman that + Bears all down with her brain; and this her son + Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, + And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, + Thou divine Imogen, what thou endurest, + Betwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd, + A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer + More hateful than the foul expulsion is + Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act + Of the divorce he'ld make! The heavens hold firm + The walls of thy dear honour, keep unshaked + That temple, thy fair mind, that thou mayst stand, + To enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Imogen's bedchamber in Cymbeline's palace: + a trunk in one corner of it. + + + [IMOGEN in bed, reading; a Lady attending] + +IMOGEN Who's there? my woman Helen? + +Lady Please you, madam + +IMOGEN What hour is it? + +Lady Almost midnight, madam. + +IMOGEN I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak: + Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed: + Take not away the taper, leave it burning; + And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, + I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly + + [Exit Lady] + + To your protection I commend me, gods. + From fairies and the tempters of the night + Guard me, beseech ye. + + [Sleeps. IACHIMO comes from the trunk] + +IACHIMO The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd sense + Repairs itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus + Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd + The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, + How bravely thou becomest thy bed, fresh lily, + And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! + But kiss; one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd, + How dearly they do't! 'Tis her breathing that + Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the taper + Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, + To see the enclosed lights, now canopied + Under these windows, white and azure laced + With blue of heaven's own tinct. But my design, + To note the chamber: I will write all down: + Such and such pictures; there the window; such + The adornment of her bed; the arras; figures, + Why, such and such; and the contents o' the story. + Ah, but some natural notes about her body, + Above ten thousand meaner moveables + Would testify, to enrich mine inventory. + O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! + And be her sense but as a monument, + Thus in a chapel lying! Come off, come off: + + [Taking off her bracelet] + + As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard! + 'Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, + As strongly as the conscience does within, + To the madding of her lord. On her left breast + A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops + I' the bottom of a cowslip: here's a voucher, + Stronger than ever law could make: this secret + Will force him think I have pick'd the lock and ta'en + The treasure of her honour. No more. To what end? + Why should I write this down, that's riveted, + Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late + The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down + Where Philomel gave up. I have enough: + To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. + Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that dawning + May bare the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; + Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. + + [Clock strikes] + + One, two, three: time, time! + + [Goes into the trunk. The scene closes] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III An ante-chamber adjoining Imogen's apartments. + + + [Enter CLOTEN and Lords] + +First Lord Your lordship is the most patient man in loss, the + most coldest that ever turned up ace. + +CLOTEN It would make any man cold to lose. + +First Lord But not every man patient after the noble temper of + your lordship. You are most hot and furious when you win. + +CLOTEN Winning will put any man into courage. If I could + get this foolish Imogen, I should have gold enough. + It's almost morning, is't not? + +First Lord Day, my lord. + +CLOTEN I would this music would come: I am advised to give + her music o' mornings; they say it will penetrate. + + [Enter Musicians] + + Come on; tune: if you can penetrate her with your + fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: if none + will do, let her remain; but I'll never give o'er. + First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; + after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich + words to it: and then let her consider. + [SONG] + + Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs + On chaliced flowers that lies; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes: + With every thing that pretty is, + My lady sweet, arise: + Arise, arise. + +CLOTEN So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will + consider your music the better: if it do not, it is + a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs and + calves'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to + boot, can never amend. + + [Exeunt Musicians] + +Second Lord Here comes the king. + +CLOTEN I am glad I was up so late; for that's the reason I + was up so early: he cannot choose but take this + service I have done fatherly. + + [Enter CYMBELINE and QUEEN] + + Good morrow to your majesty and to my gracious mother. + +CYMBELINE Attend you here the door of our stern daughter? + Will she not forth? + +CLOTEN I have assailed her with music, but she vouchsafes no notice. + +CYMBELINE The exile of her minion is too new; + She hath not yet forgot him: some more time + Must wear the print of his remembrance out, + And then she's yours. + +QUEEN You are most bound to the king, + Who lets go by no vantages that may + Prefer you to his daughter. Frame yourself + To orderly soliciting, and be friended + With aptness of the season; make denials + Increase your services; so seem as if + You were inspired to do those duties which + You tender to her; that you in all obey her, + Save when command to your dismission tends, + And therein you are senseless. + +CLOTEN Senseless! not so. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger So like you, sir, ambassadors from Rome; + The one is Caius Lucius. + +CYMBELINE A worthy fellow, + Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; + But that's no fault of his: we must receive him + According to the honour of his sender; + And towards himself, his goodness forespent on us, + We must extend our notice. Our dear son, + When you have given good morning to your mistress, + Attend the queen and us; we shall have need + To employ you towards this Roman. Come, our queen. + + [Exeunt all but CLOTEN] + +CLOTEN If she be up, I'll speak with her; if not, + Let her lie still and dream. + + [Knocks] + + By your leave, ho! + I Know her women are about her: what + If I do line one of their hands? 'Tis gold + Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes + Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up + Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 'tis gold + Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; + Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true man: what + Can it not do and undo? I will make + One of her women lawyer to me, for + I yet not understand the case myself. + + [Knocks] + + By your leave. + + [Enter a Lady] + +Lady Who's there that knocks? + +CLOTEN A gentleman. + +Lady No more? + +CLOTEN Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. + +Lady That's more + Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours, + Can justly boast of. What's your lordship's pleasure? + +CLOTEN Your lady's person: is she ready? + +Lady Ay, + To keep her chamber. + +CLOTEN There is gold for you; + Sell me your good report. + +Lady How! my good name? or to report of you + What I shall think is good?--The princess! + + [Enter IMOGEN] + +CLOTEN Good morrow, fairest: sister, your sweet hand. + + [Exit Lady] + +IMOGEN Good morrow, sir. You lay out too much pains + For purchasing but trouble; the thanks I give + Is telling you that I am poor of thanks + And scarce can spare them. + +CLOTEN Still, I swear I love you. + +IMOGEN If you but said so, 'twere as deep with me: + If you swear still, your recompense is still + That I regard it not. + +CLOTEN This is no answer. + +IMOGEN But that you shall not say I yield being silent, + I would not speak. I pray you, spare me: 'faith, + I shall unfold equal discourtesy + To your best kindness: one of your great knowing + Should learn, being taught, forbearance. + +CLOTEN To leave you in your madness, 'twere my sin: + I will not. + +IMOGEN Fools are not mad folks. + +CLOTEN Do you call me fool? + +IMOGEN As I am mad, I do: + If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad; + That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, + You put me to forget a lady's manners, + By being so verbal: and learn now, for all, + That I, which know my heart, do here pronounce, + By the very truth of it, I care not for you, + And am so near the lack of charity-- + To accuse myself--I hate you; which I had rather + You felt than make't my boast. + +CLOTEN You sin against + Obedience, which you owe your father. For + The contract you pretend with that base wretch, + One bred of alms and foster'd with cold dishes, + With scraps o' the court, it is no contract, none: + And though it be allow'd in meaner parties-- + Yet who than he more mean?--to knit their souls, + On whom there is no more dependency + But brats and beggary, in self-figured knot; + Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by + The consequence o' the crown, and must not soil + The precious note of it with a base slave. + A hilding for a livery, a squire's cloth, + A pantler, not so eminent. + +IMOGEN Profane fellow + Wert thou the son of Jupiter and no more + But what thou art besides, thou wert too base + To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough, + Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made + Comparative for your virtues, to be styled + The under-hangman of his kingdom, and hated + For being preferred so well. + +CLOTEN The south-fog rot him! + +IMOGEN He never can meet more mischance than come + To be but named of thee. His meanest garment, + That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer + In my respect than all the hairs above thee, + Were they all made such men. How now, Pisanio! + + [Enter PISANIO] + +CLOTEN 'His garment!' Now the devil-- + +IMOGEN To Dorothy my woman hie thee presently-- + +CLOTEN 'His garment!' + +IMOGEN I am sprited with a fool. + Frighted, and anger'd worse: go bid my woman + Search for a jewel that too casually + Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's: 'shrew me, + If I would lose it for a revenue + Of any king's in Europe. I do think + I saw't this morning: confident I am + Last night 'twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: + I hope it be not gone to tell my lord + That I kiss aught but he. + +PISANIO 'Twill not be lost. + +IMOGEN I hope so: go and search. + + [Exit PISANIO] + +CLOTEN You have abused me: + 'His meanest garment!' + +IMOGEN Ay, I said so, sir: + If you will make't an action, call witness to't. + +CLOTEN I will inform your father. + +IMOGEN Your mother too: + She's my good lady, and will conceive, I hope, + But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir, + To the worst of discontent. + + [Exit] + +CLOTEN I'll be revenged: + 'His meanest garment!' Well. + + [Exit] + + + +CYMBELINE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Rome. Philario's house. + + + [Enter POSTHUMUS and PHILARIO] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure + To win the king as I am bold her honour + Will remain hers. + +PHILARIO What means do you make to him? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Not any, but abide the change of time, + Quake in the present winter's state and wish + That warmer days would come: in these sear'd hopes, + I barely gratify your love; they failing, + I must die much your debtor. + +PHILARIO Your very goodness and your company + O'erpays all I can do. By this, your king + Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius + Will do's commission throughly: and I think + He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages, + Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance + Is yet fresh in their grief. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I do believe, + Statist though I am none, nor like to be, + That this will prove a war; and you shall hear + The legions now in Gallia sooner landed + In our not-fearing Britain than have tidings + Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen + Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar + Smiled at their lack of skill, but found + their courage + Worthy his frowning at: their discipline, + Now mingled with their courages, will make known + To their approvers they are people such + That mend upon the world. + + [Enter IACHIMO] + +PHILARIO See! Iachimo! + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The swiftest harts have posted you by land; + And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails, + To make your vessel nimble. + +PHILARIO Welcome, sir. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I hope the briefness of your answer made + The speediness of your return. + +IACHIMO Your lady + Is one of the fairest that I have look'd upon. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS And therewithal the best; or let her beauty + Look through a casement to allure false hearts + And be false with them. + +IACHIMO Here are letters for you. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Their tenor good, I trust. + +IACHIMO 'Tis very like. + +PHILARIO Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court + When you were there? + +IACHIMO He was expected then, + But not approach'd. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS All is well yet. + Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not + Too dull for your good wearing? + +IACHIMO If I had lost it, + I should have lost the worth of it in gold. + I'll make a journey twice as far, to enjoy + A second night of such sweet shortness which + Was mine in Britain, for the ring is won. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS The stone's too hard to come by. + +IACHIMO Not a whit, + Your lady being so easy. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Make not, sir, + Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we + Must not continue friends. + +IACHIMO Good sir, we must, + If you keep covenant. Had I not brought + The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant + We were to question further: but I now + Profess myself the winner of her honour, + Together with your ring; and not the wronger + Of her or you, having proceeded but + By both your wills. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS If you can make't apparent + That you have tasted her in bed, my hand + And ring is yours; if not, the foul opinion + You had of her pure honour gains or loses + Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both + To who shall find them. + +IACHIMO Sir, my circumstances, + Being so near the truth as I will make them, + Must first induce you to believe: whose strength + I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, + You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall find + You need it not. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Proceed. + +IACHIMO First, her bedchamber,-- + Where, I confess, I slept not, but profess + Had that was well worth watching--it was hang'd + With tapesty of silk and silver; the story + Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, + And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for + The press of boats or pride: a piece of work + So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive + In workmanship and value; which I wonder'd + Could be so rarely and exactly wrought, + Since the true life on't was-- + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is true; + And this you might have heard of here, by me, + Or by some other. + +IACHIMO More particulars + Must justify my knowledge. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So they must, + Or do your honour injury. + +IACHIMO The chimney + Is south the chamber, and the chimney-piece + Chaste Dian bathing: never saw I figures + So likely to report themselves: the cutter + Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her, + Motion and breath left out. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is a thing + Which you might from relation likewise reap, + Being, as it is, much spoke of. + +IACHIMO The roof o' the chamber + With golden cherubins is fretted: her andirons-- + I had forgot them--were two winking Cupids + Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely + Depending on their brands. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS This is her honour! + Let it be granted you have seen all this--and praise + Be given to your remembrance--the description + Of what is in her chamber nothing saves + The wager you have laid. + +IACHIMO Then, if you can, + + [Showing the bracelet] + + Be pale: I beg but leave to air this jewel; see! + And now 'tis up again: it must be married + To that your diamond; I'll keep them. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Jove! + Once more let me behold it: is it that + Which I left with her? + +IACHIMO Sir--I thank her--that: + She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; + Her pretty action did outsell her gift, + And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and said + She prized it once. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS May be she pluck'd it off + To send it me. + +IACHIMO She writes so to you, doth she? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, no, no, no! 'tis true. Here, take this too; + + [Gives the ring] + + It is a basilisk unto mine eye, + Kills me to look on't. Let there be no honour + Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; love, + Where there's another man: the vows of women + Of no more bondage be, to where they are made, + Than they are to their virtues; which is nothing. + O, above measure false! + +PHILARIO Have patience, sir, + And take your ring again; 'tis not yet won: + It may be probable she lost it; or + Who knows if one of her women, being corrupted, + Hath stol'n it from her? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Very true; + And so, I hope, he came by't. Back my ring: + Render to me some corporal sign about her, + More evident than this; for this was stolen. + +IACHIMO By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he swears. + 'Tis true:--nay, keep the ring--'tis true: I am sure + She would not lose it: her attendants are + All sworn and honourable:--they induced to steal it! + And by a stranger!--No, he hath enjoyed her: + The cognizance of her incontinency + Is this: she hath bought the name of whore + thus dearly. + There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of hell + Divide themselves between you! + +PHILARIO Sir, be patient: + This is not strong enough to be believed + Of one persuaded well of-- + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Never talk on't; + She hath been colted by him. + +IACHIMO If you seek + For further satisfying, under her breast-- + Worthy the pressing--lies a mole, right proud + Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, + I kiss'd it; and it gave me present hunger + To feed again, though full. You do remember + This stain upon her? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Ay, and it doth confirm + Another stain, as big as hell can hold, + Were there no more but it. + +IACHIMO Will you hear more? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Spare your arithmetic: never count the turns; + Once, and a million! + +IACHIMO I'll be sworn-- + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No swearing. + If you will swear you have not done't, you lie; + And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny + Thou'st made me cuckold. + +IACHIMO I'll deny nothing. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal! + I will go there and do't, i' the court, before + Her father. I'll do something-- + + [Exit] + +PHILARIO Quite besides + The government of patience! You have won: + Let's follow him, and pervert the present wrath + He hath against himself. + +IACHIMO With an my heart. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Another room in Philario's house. + + + [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Is there no way for men to be but women + Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; + And that most venerable man which I + Did call my father, was I know not where + When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools + Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd + The Dian of that time so doth my wife + The nonpareil of this. O, vengeance, vengeance! + Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd + And pray'd me oft forbearance; did it with + A pudency so rosy the sweet view on't + Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought her + As chaste as unsunn'd snow. O, all the devils! + This yellow Iachimo, in an hour,--wast not?-- + Or less,--at first?--perchance he spoke not, but, + Like a full-acorn'd boar, a German one, + Cried 'O!' and mounted; found no opposition + But what he look'd for should oppose and she + Should from encounter guard. Could I find out + The woman's part in me! For there's no motion + That tends to vice in man, but I affirm + It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, + The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; + Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, hers; + Ambitions, covetings, change of prides, disdain, + Nice longing, slanders, mutability, + All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, + Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, all; + For even to vice + They are not constant but are changing still + One vice, but of a minute old, for one + Not half so old as that. I'll write against them, + Detest them, curse them: yet 'tis greater skill + In a true hate, to pray they have their will: + The very devils cannot plague them better. + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Britain. A hall in Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter in state, CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, + and Lords at one door, and at another, + CAIUS LUCIUS and Attendants] + +CYMBELINE Now say, what would Augustus Caesar with us? + +CAIUS LUCIUS When Julius Caesar, whose remembrance yet + Lives in men's eyes and will to ears and tongues + Be theme and hearing ever, was in this Britain + And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle,-- + Famous in Caesar's praises, no whit less + Than in his feats deserving it--for him + And his succession granted Rome a tribute, + Yearly three thousand pounds, which by thee lately + Is left untender'd. + +QUEEN And, to kill the marvel, + Shall be so ever. + +CLOTEN There be many Caesars, + Ere such another Julius. Britain is + A world by itself; and we will nothing pay + For wearing our own noses. + +QUEEN That opportunity + Which then they had to take from 's, to resume + We have again. Remember, sir, my liege, + The kings your ancestors, together with + The natural bravery of your isle, which stands + As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in + With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, + With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats, + But suck them up to the topmast. A kind of conquest + Caesar made here; but made not here his brag + Of 'Came' and 'saw' and 'overcame: ' with shame-- + That first that ever touch'd him--he was carried + From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping-- + Poor ignorant baubles!-- upon our terrible seas, + Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd + As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof + The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point-- + O giglot fortune!--to master Caesar's sword, + Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright + And Britons strut with courage. + +CLOTEN Come, there's no more tribute to be paid: our + kingdom is stronger than it was at that time; and, + as I said, there is no moe such Caesars: other of + them may have crook'd noses, but to owe such + straight arms, none. + +CYMBELINE Son, let your mother end. + +CLOTEN We have yet many among us can gripe as hard as + Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; but I have a + hand. Why tribute? why should we pay tribute? If + Caesar can hide the sun from us with a blanket, or + put the moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute + for light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. + +CYMBELINE You must know, + Till the injurious Romans did extort + This tribute from us, we were free: + Caesar's ambition, + Which swell'd so much that it did almost stretch + The sides o' the world, against all colour here + Did put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off + Becomes a warlike people, whom we reckon + Ourselves to be. + +CLOTEN | + | We do. +Lords | + +CYMBELINE Say, then, to Caesar, + Our ancestor was that Mulmutius which + Ordain'd our laws, whose use the sword of Caesar + Hath too much mangled; whose repair and franchise + Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, + Though Rome be therefore angry: Mulmutius made our laws, + Who was the first of Britain which did put + His brows within a golden crown and call'd + Himself a king. + +CAIUS LUCIUS I am sorry, Cymbeline, + That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar-- + Caesar, that hath more kings his servants than + Thyself domestic officers--thine enemy: + Receive it from me, then: war and confusion + In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look + For fury not to be resisted. Thus defied, + I thank thee for myself. + +CYMBELINE Thou art welcome, Caius. + Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent + Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; + Which he to seek of me again, perforce, + Behoves me keep at utterance. I am perfect + That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for + Their liberties are now in arms; a precedent + Which not to read would show the Britons cold: + So Caesar shall not find them. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Let proof speak. + +CLOTEN His majesty bids you welcome. Make + pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if + you seek us afterwards in other terms, you + shall find us in our salt-water girdle: if you + beat us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in + the adventure, our crows shall fare the better + for you; and there's an end. + +CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir. + +CYMBELINE I know your master's pleasure and he mine: + All the remain is 'Welcome!' + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Another room in the palace. + + + [Enter PISANIO, with a letter] + +PISANIO How? of adultery? Wherefore write you not + What monster's her accuser? Leonatus, + O master! what a strange infection + Is fall'n into thy ear! What false Italian, + As poisonous-tongued as handed, hath prevail'd + On thy too ready hearing? Disloyal! No: + She's punish'd for her truth, and undergoes, + More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults + As would take in some virtue. O my master! + Thy mind to her is now as low as were + Thy fortunes. How! that I should murder her? + Upon the love and truth and vows which I + Have made to thy command? I, her? her blood? + If it be so to do good service, never + Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, + That I should seem to lack humanity + so much as this fact comes to? + + [Reading] + + 'Do't: the letter + that I have sent her, by her own command + Shall give thee opportunity.' O damn'd paper! + Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless bauble, + Art thou a feodary for this act, and look'st + So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. + I am ignorant in what I am commanded. + + [Enter IMOGEN] + +IMOGEN How now, Pisanio! + +PISANIO Madam, here is a letter from my lord. + +IMOGEN Who? thy lord? that is my lord, Leonatus! + O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer + That knew the stars as I his characters; + He'ld lay the future open. You good gods, + Let what is here contain'd relish of love, + Of my lord's health, of his content, yet not + That we two are asunder; let that grieve him: + Some griefs are med'cinable; that is one of them, + For it doth physic love: of his content, + All but in that! Good wax, thy leave. Blest be + You bees that make these locks of counsel! Lovers + And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike: + Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet + You clasp young Cupid's tables. Good news, gods! + + [Reads] + + 'Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take me + in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, as + you, O the dearest of creatures, would even renew me + with your eyes. Take notice that I am in Cambria, + at Milford-Haven: what your own love will out of + this advise you, follow. So he wishes you all + happiness, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, + increasing in love, + LEONATUS POSTHUMUS.' + O, for a horse with wings! Hear'st thou, Pisanio? + He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me + How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs + May plod it in a week, why may not I + Glide thither in a day? Then, true Pisanio,-- + Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who long'st,-- + let me bate,-but not like me--yet long'st, + But in a fainter kind:--O, not like me; + For mine's beyond beyond--say, and speak thick; + Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, + To the smothering of the sense--how far it is + To this same blessed Milford: and by the way + Tell me how Wales was made so happy as + To inherit such a haven: but first of all, + How we may steal from hence, and for the gap + That we shall make in time, from our hence-going + And our return, to excuse: but first, how get hence: + Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? + We'll talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, + How many score of miles may we well ride + 'Twixt hour and hour? + +PISANIO One score 'twixt sun and sun, + Madam, 's enough for you: + + [Aside] + + and too much too. + +IMOGEN Why, one that rode to's execution, man, + Could never go so slow: I have heard of + riding wagers, + Where horses have been nimbler than the sands + That run i' the clock's behalf. But this is foolery: + Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say + She'll home to her father: and provide me presently + A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit + A franklin's housewife. + +PISANIO Madam, you're best consider. + +IMOGEN I see before me, man: nor here, nor here, + Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them, + That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; + Do as I bid thee: there's no more to say, + Accessible is none but Milford way. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Wales: a mountainous country with a cave. + + + [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS; GUIDERIUS, + and ARVIRAGUS following] + +BELARIUS A goodly day not to keep house, with such + Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys; this gate + Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you + To a morning's holy office: the gates of monarchs + Are arch'd so high that giants may jet through + And keep their impious turbans on, without + Good morrow to the sun. Hail, thou fair heaven! + We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly + As prouder livers do. + +GUIDERIUS Hail, heaven! + +ARVIRAGUS Hail, heaven! + +BELARIUS Now for our mountain sport: up to yond hill; + Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, + When you above perceive me like a crow, + That it is place which lessens and sets off; + And you may then revolve what tales I have told you + Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: + This service is not service, so being done, + But being so allow'd: to apprehend thus, + Draws us a profit from all things we see; + And often, to our comfort, shall we find + The sharded beetle in a safer hold + Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life + Is nobler than attending for a cheque, + Richer than doing nothing for a bauble, + Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: + Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, + Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours. + +GUIDERIUS Out of your proof you speak: we, poor unfledged, + Have never wing'd from view o' the nest, nor know not + What air's from home. Haply this life is best, + If quiet life be best; sweeter to you + That have a sharper known; well corresponding + With your stiff age: but unto us it is + A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; + A prison for a debtor, that not dares + To stride a limit. + +ARVIRAGUS What should we speak of + When we are old as you? when we shall hear + The rain and wind beat dark December, how, + In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse + The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing; + We are beastly, subtle as the fox for prey, + Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat; + Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage + We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird, + And sing our bondage freely. + +BELARIUS How you speak! + Did you but know the city's usuries + And felt them knowingly; the art o' the court + As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb + Is certain falling, or so slippery that + The fear's as bad as falling; the toil o' the war, + A pain that only seems to seek out danger + I' the name of fame and honour; which dies i' + the search, + And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph + As record of fair act; nay, many times, + Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, + Must court'sy at the censure:--O boys, this story + The world may read in me: my body's mark'd + With Roman swords, and my report was once + First with the best of note: Cymbeline loved me, + And when a soldier was the theme, my name + Was not far off: then was I as a tree + Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night, + A storm or robbery, call it what you will, + Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, + And left me bare to weather. + +GUIDERIUS Uncertain favour! + +BELARIUS My fault being nothing--as I have told you oft-- + But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd + Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline + I was confederate with the Romans: so + Follow'd my banishment, and this twenty years + This rock and these demesnes have been my world; + Where I have lived at honest freedom, paid + More pious debts to heaven than in all + The fore-end of my time. But up to the mountains! + This is not hunters' language: he that strikes + The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast; + To him the other two shall minister; + And we will fear no poison, which attends + In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the valleys. + + [Exeunt GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] + + How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! + These boys know little they are sons to the king; + Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. + They think they are mine; and though train'd + up thus meanly + I' the cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit + The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them + In simple and low things to prince it much + Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, + The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who + The king his father call'd Guiderius,--Jove! + When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell + The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out + Into my story: say 'Thus, mine enemy fell, + And thus I set my foot on 's neck;' even then + The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, + Strains his young nerves and puts himself in posture + That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, + Once Arviragus, in as like a figure, + Strikes life into my speech and shows much more + His own conceiving.--Hark, the game is roused! + O Cymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows + Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, + At three and two years old, I stole these babes; + Thinking to bar thee of succession, as + Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, + Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for + their mother, + And every day do honour to her grave: + Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call'd, + They take for natural father. The game is up. + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Country near Milford-Haven. + + + [Enter PISANIO and IMOGEN] + +IMOGEN Thou told'st me, when we came from horse, the place + Was near at hand: ne'er long'd my mother so + To see me first, as I have now. Pisanio! man! + Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind, + That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks that sigh + From the inward of thee? One, but painted thus, + Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd + Beyond self-explication: put thyself + Into a havior of less fear, ere wildness + Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? + Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with + A look untender? If't be summer news, + Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st + But keep that countenance still. My husband's hand! + That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him, + And he's at some hard point. Speak, man: thy tongue + May take off some extremity, which to read + Would be even mortal to me. + +PISANIO Please you, read; + And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing + The most disdain'd of fortune. + +IMOGEN [Reads] 'Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath played the + strumpet in my bed; the testimonies whereof lie + bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises, + but from proof as strong as my grief and as certain + as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, + must act for me, if thy faith be not tainted with + the breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away + her life: I shall give thee opportunity at + Milford-Haven. She hath my letter for the purpose + where, if thou fear to strike and to make me certain + it is done, thou art the pandar to her dishonour and + equally to me disloyal.' + +PISANIO What shall I need to draw my sword? the paper + Hath cut her throat already. No, 'tis slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath + Rides on the posting winds and doth belie + All corners of the world: kings, queens and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave + This viperous slander enters. What cheer, madam? + +IMOGEN False to his bed! What is it to be false? + To lie in watch there and to think on him? + To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep + charge nature, + To break it with a fearful dream of him + And cry myself awake? that's false to's bed, is it? + +PISANIO Alas, good lady! + +IMOGEN I false! Thy conscience witness: Iachimo, + Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; + Thou then look'dst like a villain; now methinks + Thy favour's good enough. Some jay of Italy + Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him: + Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; + And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, + I must be ripp'd:--to pieces with me!--O, + Men's vows are women's traitors! All good seeming, + By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought + Put on for villany; not born where't grows, + But worn a bait for ladies. + +PISANIO Good madam, hear me. + +IMOGEN True honest men being heard, like false Aeneas, + Were in his time thought false, and Sinon's weeping + Did scandal many a holy tear, took pity + From most true wretchedness: so thou, Posthumus, + Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men; + Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjured + From thy great fall. Come, fellow, be thou honest: + Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st him, + A little witness my obedience: look! + I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit + The innocent mansion of my love, my heart; + Fear not; 'tis empty of all things but grief; + Thy master is not there, who was indeed + The riches of it: do his bidding; strike + Thou mayst be valiant in a better cause; + But now thou seem'st a coward. + +PISANIO Hence, vile instrument! + Thou shalt not damn my hand. + +IMOGEN Why, I must die; + And if I do not by thy hand, thou art + No servant of thy master's. Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine + That cravens my weak hand. Come, here's my heart. + Something's afore't. Soft, soft! we'll no defence; + Obedient as the scabbard. What is here? + The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus, + All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, + Corrupters of my faith! you shall no more + Be stomachers to my heart. Thus may poor fools + Believe false teachers: though those that + are betray'd + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + And thou, Posthumus, thou that didst set up + My disobedience 'gainst the king my father + And make me put into contempt the suits + Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find + It is no act of common passage, but + A strain of rareness: and I grieve myself + To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her + That now thou tirest on, how thy memory + Will then be pang'd by me. Prithee, dispatch: + The lamb entreats the butcher: where's thy knife? + Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding, + When I desire it too. + +PISANIO O gracious lady, + Since I received command to do this business + I have not slept one wink. + +IMOGEN Do't, and to bed then. + +PISANIO I'll wake mine eye-balls blind first. + +IMOGEN Wherefore then + Didst undertake it? Why hast thou abused + So many miles with a pretence? this place? + Mine action and thine own? our horses' labour? + The time inviting thee? the perturb'd court, + For my being absent? whereunto I never + Purpose return. Why hast thou gone so far, + To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand, + The elected deer before thee? + +PISANIO But to win time + To lose so bad employment; in the which + I have consider'd of a course. Good lady, + Hear me with patience. + +IMOGEN Talk thy tongue weary; speak + I have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear + Therein false struck, can take no greater wound, + Nor tent to bottom that. But speak. + +PISANIO Then, madam, + I thought you would not back again. + +IMOGEN Most like; + Bringing me here to kill me. + +PISANIO Not so, neither: + But if I were as wise as honest, then + My purpose would prove well. It cannot be + But that my master is abused: + Some villain, ay, and singular in his art. + Hath done you both this cursed injury. + +IMOGEN Some Roman courtezan. + +PISANIO No, on my life. + I'll give but notice you are dead and send him + Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded + I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court, + And that will well confirm it. + +IMOGEN Why good fellow, + What shall I do the where? where bide? how live? + Or in my life what comfort, when I am + Dead to my husband? + +PISANIO If you'll back to the court-- + +IMOGEN No court, no father; nor no more ado + With that harsh, noble, simple nothing, + That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me + As fearful as a siege. + +PISANIO If not at court, + Then not in Britain must you bide. + +IMOGEN Where then + Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, night, + Are they not but in Britain? I' the world's volume + Our Britain seems as of it, but not in 't; + In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think + There's livers out of Britain. + +PISANIO I am most glad + You think of other place. The ambassador, + Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven + To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind + Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise + That which, to appear itself, must not yet be + But by self-danger, you should tread a course + Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near + The residence of Posthumus; so nigh at least + That though his actions were not visible, yet + Report should render him hourly to your ear + As truly as he moves. + +IMOGEN O, for such means! + Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, + I would adventure. + +PISANIO Well, then, here's the point: + You must forget to be a woman; change + Command into obedience: fear and niceness-- + The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, + Woman its pretty self--into a waggish courage: + Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy and + As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must + Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, + Exposing it--but, O, the harder heart! + Alack, no remedy!--to the greedy touch + Of common-kissing Titan, and forget + Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein + You made great Juno angry. + +IMOGEN Nay, be brief + I see into thy end, and am almost + A man already. + +PISANIO First, make yourself but like one. + Fore-thinking this, I have already fit-- + 'Tis in my cloak-bag--doublet, hat, hose, all + That answer to them: would you in their serving, + And with what imitation you can borrow + From youth of such a season, 'fore noble Lucius + Present yourself, desire his service, tell him + wherein you're happy,--which you'll make him know, + If that his head have ear in music,--doubtless + With joy he will embrace you, for he's honourable + And doubling that, most holy. Your means abroad, + You have me, rich; and I will never fail + Beginning nor supplyment. + +IMOGEN Thou art all the comfort + The gods will diet me with. Prithee, away: + There's more to be consider'd; but we'll even + All that good time will give us: this attempt + I am soldier to, and will abide it with + A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. + +PISANIO Well, madam, we must take a short farewell, + Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of + Your carriage from the court. My noble mistress, + Here is a box; I had it from the queen: + What's in't is precious; if you are sick at sea, + Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this + Will drive away distemper. To some shade, + And fit you to your manhood. May the gods + Direct you to the best! + +IMOGEN Amen: I thank thee. + + [Exeunt, severally] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V A room in Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter CYMBELINE, QUEEN, CLOTEN, LUCIUS, + Lords, and Attendants] + +CYMBELINE Thus far; and so farewell. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Thanks, royal sir. + My emperor hath wrote, I must from hence; + And am right sorry that I must report ye + My master's enemy. + +CYMBELINE Our subjects, sir, + Will not endure his yoke; and for ourself + To show less sovereignty than they, must needs + Appear unkinglike. + +CAIUS LUCIUS So, sir: I desire of you + A conduct over-land to Milford-Haven. + Madam, all joy befal your grace! + +QUEEN And you! + +CYMBELINE My lords, you are appointed for that office; + The due of honour in no point omit. + So farewell, noble Lucius. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Your hand, my lord. + +CLOTEN Receive it friendly; but from this time forth + I wear it as your enemy. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Sir, the event + Is yet to name the winner: fare you well. + +CYMBELINE Leave not the worthy Lucius, good my lords, + Till he have cross'd the Severn. Happiness! + + [Exeunt LUCIUS and Lords] + +QUEEN He goes hence frowning: but it honours us + That we have given him cause. + +CLOTEN 'Tis all the better; + Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. + +CYMBELINE Lucius hath wrote already to the emperor + How it goes here. It fits us therefore ripely + Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: + The powers that he already hath in Gallia + Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he moves + His war for Britain. + +QUEEN 'Tis not sleepy business; + But must be look'd to speedily and strongly. + +CYMBELINE Our expectation that it would be thus + Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen, + Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd + Before the Roman, nor to us hath tender'd + The duty of the day: she looks us like + A thing more made of malice than of duty: + We have noted it. Call her before us; for + We have been too slight in sufferance. + + [Exit an Attendant] + +QUEEN Royal sir, + Since the exile of Posthumus, most retired + Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, + 'Tis time must do. Beseech your majesty, + Forbear sharp speeches to her: she's a lady + So tender of rebukes that words are strokes + And strokes death to her. + + [Re-enter Attendant] + +CYMBELINE Where is she, sir? How + Can her contempt be answer'd? + +Attendant Please you, sir, + Her chambers are all lock'd; and there's no answer + That will be given to the loudest noise we make. + +QUEEN My lord, when last I went to visit her, + She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close, + Whereto constrain'd by her infirmity, + She should that duty leave unpaid to you, + Which daily she was bound to proffer: this + She wish'd me to make known; but our great court + Made me to blame in memory. + +CYMBELINE Her doors lock'd? + Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which I fear + Prove false! + + [Exit] + +QUEEN Son, I say, follow the king. + +CLOTEN That man of hers, Pisanio, her old servant, + have not seen these two days. + +QUEEN Go, look after. + + [Exit CLOTEN] + + Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumus! + He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence + Proceed by swallowing that, for he believes + It is a thing most precious. But for her, + Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seized her, + Or, wing'd with fervor of her love, she's flown + To her desired Posthumus: gone she is + To death or to dishonour; and my end + Can make good use of either: she being down, + I have the placing of the British crown. + + [Re-enter CLOTEN] + + How now, my son! + +CLOTEN 'Tis certain she is fled. + Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none + Dare come about him. + +QUEEN [Aside] All the better: may + This night forestall him of the coming day! + + [Exit] + +CLOTEN I love and hate her: for she's fair and royal, + And that she hath all courtly parts more exquisite + Than lady, ladies, woman; from every one + The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, + Outsells them all; I love her therefore: but + Disdaining me and throwing favours on + The low Posthumus slanders so her judgment + That what's else rare is choked; and in that point + I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed, + To be revenged upon her. For when fools Shall-- + + [Enter PISANIO] + + Who is here? What, are you packing, sirrah? + Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Villain, + Where is thy lady? In a word; or else + Thou art straightway with the fiends. + +PISANIO O, good my lord! + +CLOTEN Where is thy lady? Or, by Jupiter,-- + I will not ask again. Close villain, + I'll have this secret from thy heart, or rip + Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? + From whose so many weights of baseness cannot + A dram of worth be drawn. + +PISANIO Alas, my lord, + How can she be with him? When was she missed? + He is in Rome. + +CLOTEN Where is she, sir? Come nearer; + No further halting: satisfy me home + What is become of her. + +PISANIO O, my all-worthy lord! + +CLOTEN All-worthy villain! + Discover where thy mistress is at once, + At the next word: no more of 'worthy lord!' + Speak, or thy silence on the instant is + Thy condemnation and thy death. + +PISANIO Then, sir, + This paper is the history of my knowledge + Touching her flight. + + [Presenting a letter] + +CLOTEN Let's see't. I will pursue her + Even to Augustus' throne. + +PISANIO [Aside] Or this, or perish. + She's far enough; and what he learns by this + May prove his travel, not her danger. + +CLOTEN Hum! + +PISANIO [Aside] I'll write to my lord she's dead. O Imogen, + Safe mayst thou wander, safe return again! + +CLOTEN Sirrah, is this letter true? + +PISANIO Sir, as I think. + +CLOTEN It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. Sirrah, if thou + wouldst not be a villain, but do me true service, + undergo those employments wherein I should have + cause to use thee with a serious industry, that is, + what villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it + directly and truly, I would think thee an honest + man: thou shouldst neither want my means for thy + relief nor my voice for thy preferment. + +PISANIO Well, my good lord. + +CLOTEN Wilt thou serve me? for since patiently and + constantly thou hast stuck to the bare fortune of + that beggar Posthumus, thou canst not, in the + course of gratitude, but be a diligent follower of + mine: wilt thou serve me? + +PISANIO Sir, I will. + +CLOTEN Give me thy hand; here's my purse. Hast any of thy + late master's garments in thy possession? + +PISANIO I have, my lord, at my lodging, the same suit he + wore when he took leave of my lady and mistress. + +CLOTEN The first service thou dost me, fetch that suit + hither: let it be thy lint service; go. + +PISANIO I shall, my lord. + + [Exit] + +CLOTEN Meet thee at Milford-Haven!--I forgot to ask him one + thing; I'll remember't anon:--even there, thou + villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these + garments were come. She said upon a time--the + bitterness of it I now belch from my heart--that she + held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect + than my noble and natural person together with the + adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my + back, will I ravish her: first kill him, and in her + eyes; there shall she see my valour, which will then + be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my + speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and + when my lust hath dined,--which, as I say, to vex + her I will execute in the clothes that she so + praised,--to the court I'll knock her back, foot + her home again. She hath despised me rejoicingly, + and I'll be merry in my revenge. + + [Re-enter PISANIO, with the clothes] + + Be those the garments? + +PISANIO Ay, my noble lord. + +CLOTEN How long is't since she went to Milford-Haven? + +PISANIO She can scarce be there yet. + +CLOTEN Bring this apparel to my chamber; that is the second + thing that I have commanded thee: the third is, + that thou wilt be a voluntary mute to my design. Be + but duteous, and true preferment shall tender itself + to thee. My revenge is now at Milford: would I had + wings to follow it! Come, and be true. + + [Exit] + +PISANIO Thou bid'st me to my loss: for true to thee + Were to prove false, which I will never be, + To him that is most true. To Milford go, + And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, flow, + You heavenly blessings, on her! This fool's speed + Be cross'd with slowness; labour be his meed! + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI Wales. Before the cave of Belarius. + + + [Enter IMOGEN, in boy's clothes] + +IMOGEN I see a man's life is a tedious one: + I have tired myself, and for two nights together + Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, + But that my resolution helps me. Milford, + When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, + Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think + Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, + Where they should be relieved. Two beggars told me + I could not miss my way: will poor folks lie, + That have afflictions on them, knowing 'tis + A punishment or trial? Yes; no wonder, + When rich ones scarce tell true. To lapse in fulness + Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood + Is worse in kings than beggars. My dear lord! + Thou art one o' the false ones. Now I think on thee, + My hunger's gone; but even before, I was + At point to sink for food. But what is this? + Here is a path to't: 'tis some savage hold: + I were best not to call; I dare not call: + yet famine, + Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant, + Plenty and peace breeds cowards: hardness ever + Of hardiness is mother. Ho! who's here? + If any thing that's civil, speak; if savage, + Take or lend. Ho! No answer? Then I'll enter. + Best draw my sword: and if mine enemy + But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look on't. + Such a foe, good heavens! + + [Exit, to the cave] + + [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] + +BELARIUS You, Polydote, have proved best woodman and + Are master of the feast: Cadwal and I + Will play the cook and servant; 'tis our match: + The sweat of industry would dry and die, + But for the end it works to. Come; our stomachs + Will make what's homely savoury: weariness + Can snore upon the flint, when resty sloth + Finds the down pillow hard. Now peace be here, + Poor house, that keep'st thyself! + +GUIDERIUS I am thoroughly weary. + +ARVIRAGUS I am weak with toil, yet strong in appetite. + +GUIDERIUS There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll browse on that, + Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. + +BELARIUS [Looking into the cave] + + Stay; come not in. + But that it eats our victuals, I should think + Here were a fairy. + +GUIDERIUS What's the matter, sir? + +BELARIUS By Jupiter, an angel! or, if not, + An earthly paragon! Behold divineness + No elder than a boy! + + [Re-enter IMOGEN] + +IMOGEN Good masters, harm me not: + Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought + To have begg'd or bought what I have took: + good troth, + I have stol'n nought, nor would not, though I had found + Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here's money for my meat: + I would have left it on the board so soon + As I had made my meal, and parted + With prayers for the provider. + +GUIDERIUS Money, youth? + +ARVIRAGUS All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! + As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those + Who worship dirty gods. + +IMOGEN I see you're angry: + Know, if you kill me for my fault, I should + Have died had I not made it. + +BELARIUS Whither bound? + +IMOGEN To Milford-Haven. + +BELARIUS What's your name? + +IMOGEN Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who + Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; + To whom being going, almost spent with hunger, + I am fall'n in this offence. + +BELARIUS Prithee, fair youth, + Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds + By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd! + 'Tis almost night: you shall have better cheer + Ere you depart: and thanks to stay and eat it. + Boys, bid him welcome. + +GUIDERIUS Were you a woman, youth, + I should woo hard but be your groom. In honesty, + I bid for you as I'd buy. + +ARVIRAGUS I'll make't my comfort + He is a man; I'll love him as my brother: + And such a welcome as I'd give to him + After long absence, such is yours: most welcome! + Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. + +IMOGEN 'Mongst friends, + If brothers. + + [Aside] + + Would it had been so, that they + Had been my father's sons! then had my prize + Been less, and so more equal ballasting + To thee, Posthumus. + +BELARIUS He wrings at some distress. + +GUIDERIUS Would I could free't! + +ARVIRAGUS Or I, whate'er it be, + What pain it cost, what danger. God's! + +BELARIUS Hark, boys. + + [Whispering] + +IMOGEN Great men, + That had a court no bigger than this cave, + That did attend themselves and had the virtue + Which their own conscience seal'd them--laying by + That nothing-gift of differing multitudes-- + Could not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, gods! + I'd change my sex to be companion with them, + Since Leonatus's false. + +BELARIUS It shall be so. + Boys, we'll go dress our hunt. Fair youth, come in: + Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have supp'd, + We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, + So far as thou wilt speak it. + +GUIDERIUS Pray, draw near. + +ARVIRAGUS The night to the owl and morn to the lark + less welcome. + +IMOGEN Thanks, sir. + +ARVIRAGUS I pray, draw near. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII Rome. A public place. + + + [Enter two Senators and Tribunes] + +First Senator This is the tenor of the emperor's writ: + That since the common men are now in action + 'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians, + And that the legions now in Gallia are + Full weak to undertake our wars against + The fall'n-off Britons, that we do incite + The gentry to this business. He creates + Lucius preconsul: and to you the tribunes, + For this immediate levy, he commends + His absolute commission. Long live Caesar! + +First Tribune Is Lucius general of the forces? + +Second Senator Ay. + +First Tribune Remaining now in Gallia? + +First Senator With those legions + Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy + Must be supplyant: the words of your commission + Will tie you to the numbers and the time + Of their dispatch. + +First Tribune We will discharge our duty. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Wales: near the cave of Belarius. + + + [Enter CLOTEN] + +CLOTEN I am near to the place where they should meet, if + Pisanio have mapped it truly. How fit his garments + serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by + him that made the tailor, not be fit too? the + rather--saving reverence of the word--for 'tis said + a woman's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must + play the workman. I dare speak it to myself--for it + is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer + in his own chamber--I mean, the lines of my body are + as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, + not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the + advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike + conversant in general services, and more remarkable + in single oppositions: yet this imperceiverant + thing loves him in my despite. What mortality is! + Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy + shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy + mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before + thy face: and all this done, spurn her home to her + father; who may haply be a little angry for my so + rough usage; but my mother, having power of his + testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My + horse is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore + purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand! This is + the very description of their meeting-place; and + the fellow dares not deceive me. + + [Exit] + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Before the cave of Belarius. + + + [Enter, from the cave, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, + ARVIRAGUS, and IMOGEN] + +BELARIUS [To IMOGEN] You are not well: remain here in the cave; + We'll come to you after hunting. + +ARVIRAGUS [To IMOGEN] Brother, stay here + Are we not brothers? + +IMOGEN So man and man should be; + But clay and clay differs in dignity, + Whose dust is both alike. I am very sick. + +GUIDERIUS Go you to hunting; I'll abide with him. + +IMOGEN So sick I am not, yet I am not well; + But not so citizen a wanton as + To seem to die ere sick: so please you, leave me; + Stick to your journal course: the breach of custom + Is breach of all. I am ill, but your being by me + Cannot amend me; society is no comfort + To one not sociable: I am not very sick, + Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me here: + I'll rob none but myself; and let me die, + Stealing so poorly. + +GUIDERIUS I love thee; I have spoke it + How much the quantity, the weight as much, + As I do love my father. + +BELARIUS What! how! how! + +ARVIRAGUS If it be sin to say so, I yoke me + In my good brother's fault: I know not why + I love this youth; and I have heard you say, + Love's reason's without reason: the bier at door, + And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say + 'My father, not this youth.' + +BELARIUS [Aside] O noble strain! + O worthiness of nature! breed of greatness! + Cowards father cowards and base things sire base: + Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. + I'm not their father; yet who this should be, + Doth miracle itself, loved before me. + 'Tis the ninth hour o' the morn. + +ARVIRAGUS Brother, farewell. + +IMOGEN I wish ye sport. + +ARVIRAGUS You health. So please you, sir. + +IMOGEN [Aside] These are kind creatures. Gods, what lies + I have heard! + Our courtiers say all's savage but at court: + Experience, O, thou disprovest report! + The imperious seas breed monsters, for the dish + Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. + I am sick still; heart-sick. Pisanio, + I'll now taste of thy drug. + + [Swallows some] + +GUIDERIUS I could not stir him: + He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; + Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. + +ARVIRAGUS Thus did he answer me: yet said, hereafter + I might know more. + +BELARIUS To the field, to the field! + We'll leave you for this time: go in and rest. + +ARVIRAGUS We'll not be long away. + +BELARIUS Pray, be not sick, + For you must be our housewife. + +IMOGEN Well or ill, + I am bound to you. + +BELARIUS And shalt be ever. + + [Exit IMOGEN, to the cave] + + This youth, how'er distress'd, appears he hath had + Good ancestors. + +ARVIRAGUS How angel-like he sings! + +GUIDERIUS But his neat cookery! he cut our roots + In characters, + And sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick + And he her dieter. + +ARVIRAGUS Nobly he yokes + A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh + Was that it was, for not being such a smile; + The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly + From so divine a temple, to commix + With winds that sailors rail at. + +GUIDERIUS I do note + That grief and patience, rooted in him both, + Mingle their spurs together. + +ARVIRAGUS Grow, patience! + And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine + His perishing root with the increasing vine! + +BELARIUS It is great morning. Come, away!-- + Who's there? + + [Enter CLOTEN] + +CLOTEN I cannot find those runagates; that villain + Hath mock'd me. I am faint. + +BELARIUS 'Those runagates!' + Means he not us? I partly know him: 'tis + Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear some ambush. + I saw him not these many years, and yet + I know 'tis he. We are held as outlaws: hence! + +GUIDERIUS He is but one: you and my brother search + What companies are near: pray you, away; + Let me alone with him. + + [Exeunt BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] + +CLOTEN Soft! What are you + That fly me thus? some villain mountaineers? + I have heard of such. What slave art thou? + +GUIDERIUS A thing + More slavish did I ne'er than answering + A slave without a knock. + +CLOTEN Thou art a robber, + A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. + +GUIDERIUS To who? to thee? What art thou? Have not I + An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? + Thy words, I grant, are bigger, for I wear not + My dagger in my mouth. Say what thou art, + Why I should yield to thee? + +CLOTEN Thou villain base, + Know'st me not by my clothes? + +GUIDERIUS No, nor thy tailor, rascal, + Who is thy grandfather: he made those clothes, + Which, as it seems, make thee. + +CLOTEN Thou precious varlet, + My tailor made them not. + +GUIDERIUS Hence, then, and thank + The man that gave them thee. Thou art some fool; + I am loath to beat thee. + +CLOTEN Thou injurious thief, + Hear but my name, and tremble. + +GUIDERIUS What's thy name? + +CLOTEN Cloten, thou villain. + +GUIDERIUS Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name, + I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or + Adder, Spider, + 'Twould move me sooner. + +CLOTEN To thy further fear, + Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know + I am son to the queen. + +GUIDERIUS I am sorry for 't; not seeming + So worthy as thy birth. + +CLOTEN Art not afeard? + +GUIDERIUS Those that I reverence those I fear, the wise: + At fools I laugh, not fear them. + +CLOTEN Die the death: + When I have slain thee with my proper hand, + I'll follow those that even now fled hence, + And on the gates of Lud's-town set your heads: + Yield, rustic mountaineer. + + [Exeunt, fighting] + + [Re-enter BELARIUS and ARVIRAGUS] + +BELARIUS No companies abroad? + +ARVIRAGUS None in the world: you did mistake him, sure. + +BELARIUS I cannot tell: long is it since I saw him, + But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines of favour + Which then he wore; the snatches in his voice, + And burst of speaking, were as his: I am absolute + 'Twas very Cloten. + +ARVIRAGUS In this place we left them: + I wish my brother make good time with him, + You say he is so fell. + +BELARIUS Being scarce made up, + I mean, to man, he had not apprehension + Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment + Is oft the cause of fear. But, see, thy brother. + + [Re-enter GUIDERIUS, with CLOTEN'S head] + +GUIDERIUS This Cloten was a fool, an empty purse; + There was no money in't: not Hercules + Could have knock'd out his brains, for he had none: + Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne + My head as I do his. + +BELARIUS What hast thou done? + +GUIDERIUS I am perfect what: cut off one Cloten's head, + Son to the queen, after his own report; + Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer, and swore + With his own single hand he'ld take us in + Displace our heads where--thank the gods!--they grow, + And set them on Lud's-town. + +BELARIUS We are all undone. + +GUIDERIUS Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, + But that he swore to take, our lives? The law + Protects not us: then why should we be tender + To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us, + Play judge and executioner all himself, + For we do fear the law? What company + Discover you abroad? + +BELARIUS No single soul + Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason + He must have some attendants. Though his humour + Was nothing but mutation, ay, and that + From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not + Absolute madness could so far have raved + To bring him here alone; although perhaps + It may be heard at court that such as we + Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time + May make some stronger head; the which he hearing-- + As it is like him--might break out, and swear + He'ld fetch us in; yet is't not probable + To come alone, either he so undertaking, + Or they so suffering: then on good ground we fear, + If we do fear this body hath a tail + More perilous than the head. + +ARVIRAGUS Let ordinance + Come as the gods foresay it: howsoe'er, + My brother hath done well. + +BELARIUS I had no mind + To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sickness + Did make my way long forth. + +GUIDERIUS With his own sword, + Which he did wave against my throat, I have ta'en + His head from him: I'll throw't into the creek + Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, + And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten: + That's all I reck. + + [Exit] + +BELARIUS I fear 'twill be revenged: + Would, Polydote, thou hadst not done't! though valour + Becomes thee well enough. + +ARVIRAGUS Would I had done't + So the revenge alone pursued me! Polydore, + I love thee brotherly, but envy much + Thou hast robb'd me of this deed: I would revenges, + That possible strength might meet, would seek us through + And put us to our answer. + +BELARIUS Well, 'tis done: + We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger + Where there's no profit. I prithee, to our rock; + You and Fidele play the cooks: I'll stay + Till hasty Polydote return, and bring him + To dinner presently. + +ARVIRAGUS Poor sick Fidele! + I'll weringly to him: to gain his colour + I'ld let a parish of such Clotens' blood, + And praise myself for charity. + + [Exit] + +BELARIUS O thou goddess, + Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st + In these two princely boys! They are as gentle + As zephyrs blowing below the violet, + Not wagging his sweet head; and yet as rough, + Their royal blood enchafed, as the rudest wind, + That by the top doth take the mountain pine, + And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder + That an invisible instinct should frame them + To royalty unlearn'd, honour untaught, + Civility not seen from other, valour + That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop + As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it's strange + What Cloten's being here to us portends, + Or what his death will bring us. + + [Re-enter GUIDERIUS] + +GUIDERIUS Where's my brother? + I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, + In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage + For his return. + + [Solemn music] + +BELARIUS My ingenious instrument! + Hark, Polydore, it sounds! But what occasion + Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! + +GUIDERIUS Is he at home? + +BELARIUS He went hence even now. + +GUIDERIUS What does he mean? since death of my dear'st mother + it did not speak before. All solemn things + Should answer solemn accidents. The matter? + Triumphs for nothing and lamenting toys + Is jollity for apes and grief for boys. + Is Cadwal mad? + +BELARIUS Look, here he comes, + And brings the dire occasion in his arms + Of what we blame him for. + + [Re-enter ARVIRAGUS, with IMOGEN, as dead, + bearing her in his arms] + +ARVIRAGUS The bird is dead + That we have made so much on. I had rather + Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, + To have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, + Than have seen this. + +GUIDERIUS O sweetest, fairest lily! + My brother wears thee not the one half so well + As when thou grew'st thyself. + +BELARIUS O melancholy! + Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? find + The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare + Might easiliest harbour in? Thou blessed thing! + Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; but I, + Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy. + How found you him? + +ARVIRAGUS Stark, as you see: + Thus smiling, as some fly hid tickled slumber, + Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at; his + right cheek + Reposing on a cushion. + +GUIDERIUS Where? + +ARVIRAGUS O' the floor; + His arms thus leagued: I thought he slept, and put + My clouted brogues from off my feet, whose rudeness + Answer'd my steps too loud. + +GUIDERIUS Why, he but sleeps: + If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; + With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, + And worms will not come to thee. + +ARVIRAGUS With fairest flowers + Whilst summer lasts and I live here, Fidele, + I'll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack + The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, nor + The azured harebell, like thy veins, no, nor + The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, + Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the ruddock would, + With charitable bill,--O bill, sore-shaming + Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie + Without a monument!--bring thee all this; + Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, + To winter-ground thy corse. + +GUIDERIUS Prithee, have done; + And do not play in wench-like words with that + Which is so serious. Let us bury him, + And not protract with admiration what + Is now due debt. To the grave! + +ARVIRAGUS Say, where shall's lay him? + +GUIDERIUS By good Euriphile, our mother. + +ARVIRAGUS Be't so: + And let us, Polydore, though now our voices + Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, + As once our mother; use like note and words, + Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. + +GUIDERIUS Cadwal, + I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with thee; + For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse + Than priests and fanes that lie. + +ARVIRAGUS We'll speak it, then. + +BELARIUS Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; for Cloten + Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys; + And though he came our enemy, remember + He was paid for that: though mean and + mighty, rotting + Together, have one dust, yet reverence, + That angel of the world, doth make distinction + Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely + And though you took his life, as being our foe, + Yet bury him as a prince. + +GUIDERIUS Pray You, fetch him hither. + Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', + When neither are alive. + +ARVIRAGUS If you'll go fetch him, + We'll say our song the whilst. Brother, begin. + + [Exit BELARIUS] + +GUIDERIUS Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head to the east; + My father hath a reason for't. + +ARVIRAGUS 'Tis true. + +GUIDERIUS Come on then, and remove him. + +ARVIRAGUS So. Begin. + [SONG] + +GUIDERIUS Fear no more the heat o' the sun, + Nor the furious winter's rages; + Thou thy worldly task hast done, + Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: + Golden lads and girls all must, + As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. + +ARVIRAGUS Fear no more the frown o' the great; + Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; + Care no more to clothe and eat; + To thee the reed is as the oak: + The sceptre, learning, physic, must + All follow this, and come to dust. + +GUIDERIUS Fear no more the lightning flash, + +ARVIRAGUS Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; + +GUIDERIUS Fear not slander, censure rash; + +ARVIRAGUS Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: + + +GUIDERIUS | + | All lovers young, all lovers must +ARVIRAGUS | Consign to thee, and come to dust. + + +GUIDERIUS No exorciser harm thee! + +ARVIRAGUS Nor no witchcraft charm thee! + +GUIDERIUS Ghost unlaid forbear thee! + +ARVIRAGUS Nothing ill come near thee! + + +GUIDERIUS | + | Quiet consummation have; +ARVIRAGUS | And renowned be thy grave! + + + [Re-enter BELARIUS, with the body of CLOTEN] + +GUIDERIUS We have done our obsequies: come, lay him down. + +BELARIUS Here's a few flowers; but 'bout midnight, more: + The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the night + Are strewings fitt'st for graves. Upon their faces. + You were as flowers, now wither'd: even so + These herblets shall, which we upon you strew. + Come on, away: apart upon our knees. + The ground that gave them first has them again: + Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. + + [Exeunt BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] + +IMOGEN [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; which is + the way?-- + I thank you.--By yond bush?--Pray, how far thither? + 'Ods pittikins! can it be six mile yet?-- + I have gone all night. 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep. + But, soft! no bedfellow!--O gods and goddesses! + + [Seeing the body of CLOTEN] + + These flowers are like the pleasures of the world; + This bloody man, the care on't. I hope I dream; + For so I thought I was a cave-keeper, + And cook to honest creatures: but 'tis not so; + 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing, + Which the brain makes of fumes: our very eyes + Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good faith, + I tremble stiff with fear: but if there be + Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity + As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! + The dream's here still: even when I wake, it is + Without me, as within me; not imagined, felt. + A headless man! The garments of Posthumus! + I know the shape of's leg: this is his hand; + His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; + The brawns of Hercules: but his Jovial face + Murder in heaven?--How!--'Tis gone. Pisanio, + All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, + And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, + Conspired with that irregulous devil, Cloten, + Hast here cut off my lord. To write and read + Be henceforth treacherous! Damn'd Pisanio + Hath with his forged letters,--damn'd Pisanio-- + From this most bravest vessel of the world + Struck the main-top! O Posthumus! alas, + Where is thy head? where's that? Ay me! + where's that? + Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, + And left this head on. How should this be? Pisanio? + 'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them + Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, pregnant! + The drug he gave me, which he said was precious + And cordial to me, have I not found it + Murderous to the senses? That confirms it home: + This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's: O! + Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood, + That we the horrider may seem to those + Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! + + [Falls on the body] + + [Enter LUCIUS, a Captain and other Officers, + and a Soothsayer] + +Captain To them the legions garrison'd in Gailia, + After your will, have cross'd the sea, attending + You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: + They are in readiness. + +CAIUS LUCIUS But what from Rome? + +Captain The senate hath stirr'd up the confiners + And gentlemen of Italy, most willing spirits, + That promise noble service: and they come + Under the conduct of bold Iachimo, + Syenna's brother. + +CAIUS LUCIUS When expect you them? + +Captain With the next benefit o' the wind. + +CAIUS LUCIUS This forwardness + Makes our hopes fair. Command our present numbers + Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. Now, sir, + What have you dream'd of late of this war's purpose? + +Soothsayer Last night the very gods show'd me a vision-- + I fast and pray'd for their intelligence--thus: + I saw Jove's bird, the Roman eagle, wing'd + From the spongy south to this part of the west, + There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which portends-- + Unless my sins abuse my divination-- + Success to the Roman host. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Dream often so, + And never false. Soft, ho! what trunk is here + Without his top? The ruin speaks that sometime + It was a worthy building. How! a page! + Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead rather; + For nature doth abhor to make his bed + With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. + Let's see the boy's face. + +Captain He's alive, my lord. + +CAIUS LUCIUS He'll then instruct us of this body. Young one, + Inform us of thy fortunes, for it seems + They crave to be demanded. Who is this + Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he + That, otherwise than noble nature did, + Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy interest + In this sad wreck? How came it? Who is it? + What art thou? + +IMOGEN I am nothing: or if not, + Nothing to be were better. This was my master, + A very valiant Briton and a good, + That here by mountaineers lies slain. Alas! + There is no more such masters: I may wander + From east to occident, cry out for service, + Try many, all good, serve truly, never + Find such another master. + +CAIUS LUCIUS 'Lack, good youth! + Thou movest no less with thy complaining than + Thy master in bleeding: say his name, good friend. + +IMOGEN Richard du Champ. + + [Aside] + + If I do lie and do + No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope + They'll pardon it.--Say you, sir? + +CAIUS LUCIUS Thy name? + +IMOGEN Fidele, sir. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Thou dost approve thyself the very same: + Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. + Wilt take thy chance with me? I will not say + Thou shalt be so well master'd, but, be sure, + No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters, + Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner + Than thine own worth prefer thee: go with me. + +IMOGEN I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please the gods, + I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep + As these poor pickaxes can dig; and when + With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' strew'd his grave, + And on it said a century of prayers, + Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep and sigh; + And leaving so his service, follow you, + So please you entertain me. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Ay, good youth! + And rather father thee than master thee. + My friends, + The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us + Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, + And make him with our pikes and partisans + A grave: come, arm him. Boy, he is preferr'd + By thee to us, and he shall be interr'd + As soldiers can. Be cheerful; wipe thine eyes + Some falls are means the happier to arise. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A room in Cymbeline's palace. + + + [Enter CYMBELINE, Lords, PISANIO, and Attendants] + +CYMBELINE Again; and bring me word how 'tis with her. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + A fever with the absence of her son, + A madness, of which her life's in danger. Heavens, + How deeply you at once do touch me! Imogen, + The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen + Upon a desperate bed, and in a time + When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, + So needful for this present: it strikes me, past + The hope of comfort. But for thee, fellow, + Who needs must know of her departure and + Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee + By a sharp torture. + +PISANIO Sir, my life is yours; + I humbly set it at your will; but, for my mistress, + I nothing know where she remains, why gone, + Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your highness, + Hold me your loyal servant. + +First Lord Good my liege, + The day that she was missing he was here: + I dare be bound he's true and shall perform + All parts of his subjection loyally. For Cloten, + There wants no diligence in seeking him, + And will, no doubt, be found. + +CYMBELINE The time is troublesome. + + [To PISANIO] + + We'll slip you for a season; but our jealousy + Does yet depend. + +First Lord So please your majesty, + The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn, + Are landed on your coast, with a supply + Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. + +CYMBELINE Now for the counsel of my son and queen! + I am amazed with matter. + +First Lord Good my liege, + Your preparation can affront no less + Than what you hear of: come more, for more + you're ready: + The want is but to put those powers in motion + That long to move. + +CYMBELINE I thank you. Let's withdraw; + And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not + What can from Italy annoy us; but + We grieve at chances here. Away! + + [Exeunt all but PISANIO] + +PISANIO I heard no letter from my master since + I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange: + Nor hear I from my mistress who did promise + To yield me often tidings: neither know I + What is betid to Cloten; but remain + Perplex'd in all. The heavens still must work. + Wherein I am false I am honest; not true, to be true. + These present wars shall find I love my country, + Even to the note o' the king, or I'll fall in them. + All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: + Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer'd. + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Wales: before the cave of Belarius. + + + [Enter BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS. + +GUIDERIUS The noise is round about us. + +BELARIUS Let us from it. + +ARVIRAGUS What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to lock it + From action and adventure? + +GUIDERIUS Nay, what hope + Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans + Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us + For barbarous and unnatural revolts + During their use, and slay us after. + +BELARIUS Sons, + We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. + To the king's party there's no going: newness + Of Cloten's death--we being not known, not muster'd + Among the bands--may drive us to a render + Where we have lived, and so extort from's that + Which we have done, whose answer would be death + Drawn on with torture. + +GUIDERIUS This is, sir, a doubt + In such a time nothing becoming you, + Nor satisfying us. + +ARVIRAGUS It is not likely + That when they hear the Roman horses neigh, + Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their eyes + And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, + That they will waste their time upon our note, + To know from whence we are. + +BELARIUS O, I am known + Of many in the army: many years, + Though Cloten then but young, you see, not wore him + From my remembrance. And, besides, the king + Hath not deserved my service nor your loves; + Who find in my exile the want of breeding, + The certainty of this hard life; aye hopeless + To have the courtesy your cradle promised, + But to be still hot summer's tamings and + The shrinking slaves of winter. + +GUIDERIUS Than be so + Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army: + I and my brother are not known; yourself + So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown, + Cannot be question'd. + +ARVIRAGUS By this sun that shines, + I'll thither: what thing is it that I never + Did see man die! scarce ever look'd on blood, + But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! + Never bestrid a horse, save one that had + A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel + Nor iron on his heel! I am ashamed + To look upon the holy sun, to have + The benefit of his blest beams, remaining + So long a poor unknown. + +GUIDERIUS By heavens, I'll go: + If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, + I'll take the better care, but if you will not, + The hazard therefore due fall on me by + The hands of Romans! + +ARVIRAGUS So say I amen. + +BELARIUS No reason I, since of your lives you set + So slight a valuation, should reserve + My crack'd one to more care. Have with you, boys! + If in your country wars you chance to die, + That is my bed too, lads, an there I'll lie: + Lead, lead. + + [Aside] + + The time seems long; their blood + thinks scorn, + Till it fly out and show them princes born. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Britain. The Roman camp. + + + [Enter POSTHUMUS, with a bloody handkerchief] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yea, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee, for I wish'd + Thou shouldst be colour'd thus. You married ones, + If each of you should take this course, how many + Must murder wives much better than themselves + For wrying but a little! O Pisanio! + Every good servant does not all commands: + No bond but to do just ones. Gods! if you + Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never + Had lived to put on this: so had you saved + The noble Imogen to repent, and struck + Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, alack, + You snatch some hence for little faults; that's love, + To have them fall no more: you some permit + To second ills with ills, each elder worse, + And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift. + But Imogen is your own: do your best wills, + And make me blest to obey! I am brought hither + Among the Italian gentry, and to fight + Against my lady's kingdom: 'tis enough + That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! + I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heavens, + Hear patiently my purpose: I'll disrobe me + Of these Italian weeds and suit myself + As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight + Against the part I come with; so I'll die + For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life + Is every breath a death; and thus, unknown, + Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril + Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know + More valour in me than my habits show. + Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me! + To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin + The fashion, less without and more within. + + [Exit] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Field of battle between the British and Roman camps. + + + [Enter, from one side, LUCIUS, IACHIMO, and + the Roman Army: from the other side, the + British Army; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS following, + like a poor soldier. They march over and go + out. Then enter again, in skirmish, IACHIMO + and POSTHUMUS LEONATUS he vanquisheth and disarmeth + IACHIMO, and then leaves him] + +IACHIMO The heaviness and guilt within my bosom + Takes off my manhood: I have belied a lady, + The princess of this country, and the air on't + Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl, + A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me + In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne + As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. + If that thy gentry, Britain, go before + This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds + Is that we scarce are men and you are gods. + + [Exit] + + [The battle continues; the Britons fly; CYMBELINE is + taken: then enter, to his rescue, BELARIUS, + GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] + +BELARIUS Stand, stand! We have the advantage of the ground; + The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but + The villany of our fears. + + +GUIDERIUS | + | Stand, stand, and fight! +ARVIRAGUS | + + + [Re-enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, and seconds the + Britons: they rescue CYMBELINE, and exeunt. Then + re-enter LUCIUS, and IACHIMO, with IMOGEN] + +CAIUS LUCIUS Away, boy, from the troops, and save thyself; + For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such + As war were hoodwink'd. + +IACHIMO 'Tis their fresh supplies. + +CAIUS LUCIUS It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes + Let's reinforce, or fly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Another part of the field. + + + [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and a British Lord] + +Lord Camest thou from where they made the stand? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I did. + Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. + +Lord I did. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, + But that the heavens fought: the king himself + Of his wings destitute, the army broken, + And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying + Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, + Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having work + More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down + Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling + Merely through fear; that the straight pass was damm'd + With dead men hurt behind, and cowards living + To die with lengthen'd shame. + +Lord Where was this lane? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd with turf; + Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, + An honest one, I warrant; who deserved + So long a breeding as his white beard came to, + In doing this for's country: athwart the lane, + He, with two striplings-lads more like to run + The country base than to commit such slaughter + With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer + Than those for preservation cased, or shame-- + Made good the passage; cried to those that fled, + 'Our Britain s harts die flying, not our men: + To darkness fleet souls that fly backwards. Stand; + Or we are Romans and will give you that + Like beasts which you shun beastly, and may save, + But to look back in frown: stand, stand.' + These three, + Three thousand confident, in act as many-- + For three performers are the file when all + The rest do nothing--with this word 'Stand, stand,' + Accommodated by the place, more charming + With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd + A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks, + Part shame, part spirit renew'd; that some, + turn'd coward + But by example--O, a sin in war, + Damn'd in the first beginners!--gan to look + The way that they did, and to grin like lions + Upon the pikes o' the hunters. Then began + A stop i' the chaser, a retire, anon + A rout, confusion thick; forthwith they fly + Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves, + The strides they victors made: and now our cowards, + Like fragments in hard voyages, became + The life o' the need: having found the backdoor open + Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they wound! + Some slain before; some dying; some their friends + O'er borne i' the former wave: ten, chased by one, + Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: + Those that would die or ere resist are grown + The mortal bugs o' the field. + +Lord This was strange chance + A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made + Rather to wonder at the things you hear + Than to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, + And vent it for a mockery? Here is one: + 'Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, + Preserved the Britons, was the Romans' bane.' + +Lord Nay, be not angry, sir. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS 'Lack, to what end? + Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend; + For if he'll do as he is made to do, + I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too. + You have put me into rhyme. + +Lord Farewell; you're angry. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Still going? + + [Exit Lord] + + This is a lord! O noble misery, + To be i' the field, and ask 'what news?' of me! + To-day how many would have given their honours + To have saved their carcasses! took heel to do't, + And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, + Could not find death where I did hear him groan, + Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly monster, + 'Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds, + Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we + That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will find him + For being now a favourer to the Briton, + No more a Briton, I have resumed again + The part I came in: fight I will no more, + But yield me to the veriest hind that shall + Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughter is + Here made by the Roman; great the answer be + Britons must take. For me, my ransom's death; + On either side I come to spend my breath; + Which neither here I'll keep nor bear again, + But end it by some means for Imogen. + + [Enter two British Captains and Soldiers] + +First Captain Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is taken. + 'Tis thought the old man and his sons were angels. + +Second Captain There was a fourth man, in a silly habit, + That gave the affront with them. + +First Captain So 'tis reported: + But none of 'em can be found. Stand! who's there? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS A Roman, + Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds + Had answer'd him. + +Second Captain Lay hands on him; a dog! + A leg of Rome shall not return to tell + What crows have peck'd them here. He brags + his service + As if he were of note: bring him to the king. + + [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, + PISANIO, Soldiers, Attendants, and Roman Captives. + The Captains present POSTHUMUS LEONATUS to + CYMBELINE, who delivers him over to a Gaoler: + then exeunt omnes] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV A British prison. + + + [Enter POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and two Gaolers] + +First Gaoler You shall not now be stol'n, you have locks upon you; + So graze as you find pasture. + +Second Gaoler Ay, or a stomach. + + [Exeunt Gaolers] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Most welcome, bondage! for thou art away, + think, to liberty: yet am I better + Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had rather + Groan so in perpetuity than be cured + By the sure physician, death, who is the key + To unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art fetter'd + More than my shanks and wrists: you good gods, give me + The penitent instrument to pick that bolt, + Then, free for ever! Is't enough I am sorry? + So children temporal fathers do appease; + Gods are more full of mercy. Must I repent? + I cannot do it better than in gyves, + Desired more than constrain'd: to satisfy, + If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take + No stricter render of me than my all. + I know you are more clement than vile men, + Who of their broken debtors take a third, + A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again + On their abatement: that's not my desire: + For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though + 'Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: + 'Tween man and man they weigh not every stamp; + Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: + You rather mine, being yours: and so, great powers, + If you will take this audit, take this life, + And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! + I'll speak to thee in silence. + + [Sleeps] + + [Solemn music. Enter, as in an apparition, + SICILIUS LEONATUS, father to Posthumus Leonatus, + an old man, attired like a warrior; leading in + his hand an ancient matron, his wife, and mother + to Posthumus Leonatus, with music before them: + then, after other music, follow the two young + Leonati, brothers to Posthumus Leonatus, with + wounds as they died in the wars. They circle + Posthumus Leonatus round, as he lies sleeping] + +Sicilius Leonatus No more, thou thunder-master, show + Thy spite on mortal flies: + With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, + That thy adulteries + Rates and revenges. + Hath my poor boy done aught but well, + Whose face I never saw? + I died whilst in the womb he stay'd + Attending nature's law: + Whose father then, as men report + Thou orphans' father art, + Thou shouldst have been, and shielded him + From this earth-vexing smart. + +Mother Lucina lent not me her aid, + But took me in my throes; + That from me was Posthumus ript, + Came crying 'mongst his foes, + A thing of pity! + +Sicilius Leonatus Great nature, like his ancestry, + Moulded the stuff so fair, + That he deserved the praise o' the world, + As great Sicilius' heir. + +First Brother When once he was mature for man, + In Britain where was he + That could stand up his parallel; + Or fruitful object be + In eye of Imogen, that best + Could deem his dignity? + +Mother With marriage wherefore was he mock'd, + To be exiled, and thrown + From Leonati seat, and cast + From her his dearest one, + Sweet Imogen? + +Sicilius Leonatus Why did you suffer Iachimo, + Slight thing of Italy, + To taint his nobler heart and brain + With needless jealosy; + And to become the geck and scorn + O' th' other's villany? + +Second Brother For this from stiller seats we came, + Our parents and us twain, + That striking in our country's cause + Fell bravely and were slain, + Our fealty and Tenantius' right + With honour to maintain. + +First Brother Like hardiment Posthumus hath + To Cymbeline perform'd: + Then, Jupiter, thou king of gods, + Why hast thou thus adjourn'd + The graces for his merits due, + Being all to dolours turn'd? + +Sicilius Leonatus Thy crystal window ope; look out; + No longer exercise + Upon a valiant race thy harsh + And potent injuries. + +Mother Since, Jupiter, our son is good, + Take off his miseries. + +Sicilius Leonatus Peep through thy marble mansion; help; + Or we poor ghosts will cry + To the shining synod of the rest + Against thy deity. + + +First Brother | Help, Jupiter; or we appeal, + | And from thy justice fly. +Second Brother | + + + [Jupiter descends in thunder and lightning, sitting + upon an eagle: he throws a thunderbolt. The + Apparitions fall on their knees] + +Jupiter No more, you petty spirits of region low, + Offend our hearing; hush! How dare you ghosts + Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt, you know, + Sky-planted batters all rebelling coasts? + Poor shadows of Elysium, hence, and rest + Upon your never-withering banks of flowers: + Be not with mortal accidents opprest; + No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. + Whom best I love I cross; to make my gift, + The more delay'd, delighted. Be content; + Your low-laid son our godhead will uplift: + His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. + Our Jovial star reign'd at his birth, and in + Our temple was he married. Rise, and fade. + He shall be lord of lady Imogen, + And happier much by his affliction made. + This tablet lay upon his breast, wherein + Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine: + and so, away: no further with your din + Express impatience, lest you stir up mine. + Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. + + [Ascends] + +Sicilius Leonatus He came in thunder; his celestial breath + Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle + Stoop'd as to foot us: his ascension is + More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird + Prunes the immortal wing and cloys his beak, + As when his god is pleased. + +All Thanks, Jupiter! + +Sicilius Leonatus The marble pavement closes, he is enter'd + His radiant root. Away! and, to be blest, + Let us with care perform his great behest. + + [The Apparitions vanish] + +Posthumus Leonatus [Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grandsire, and begot + A father to me; and thou hast created + A mother and two brothers: but, O scorn! + Gone! they went hence so soon as they were born: + And so I am awake. Poor wretches that depend + On greatness' favour dream as I have done, + Wake and find nothing. But, alas, I swerve: + Many dream not to find, neither deserve, + And yet are steep'd in favours: so am I, + That have this golden chance and know not why. + What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O rare one! + Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment + Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects + So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, + As good as promise. + + [Reads] + + 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, + without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of + tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be + lopped branches, which, being dead many years, + shall after revive, be jointed to the old stock and + freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, + Britain be fortunate and flourish in peace and plenty.' + 'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as madmen + Tongue and brain not; either both or nothing; + Or senseless speaking or a speaking such + As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, + The action of my life is like it, which + I'll keep, if but for sympathy. + + [Re-enter First Gaoler] + +First Gaoler Come, sir, are you ready for death? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Over-roasted rather; ready long ago. + +First Gaoler Hanging is the word, sir: if + you be ready for that, you are well cooked. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS So, if I prove a good repast to the + spectators, the dish pays the shot. + +First Gaoler A heavy reckoning for you, sir. But the comfort is, + you shall be called to no more payments, fear no + more tavern-bills; which are often the sadness of + parting, as the procuring of mirth: you come in + flint for want of meat, depart reeling with too + much drink; sorry that you have paid too much, and + sorry that you are paid too much; purse and brain + both empty; the brain the heavier for being too + light, the purse too light, being drawn of + heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now be + quit. O, the charity of a penny cord! It sums up + thousands in a trice: you have no true debitor and + creditor but it; of what's past, is, and to come, + the discharge: your neck, sir, is pen, book and + counters; so the acquittance follows. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am merrier to die than thou art to live. + +First Gaoler Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the + tooth-ache: but a man that were to sleep your + sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he + would change places with his officer; for, look you, + sir, you know not which way you shall go. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Yes, indeed do I, fellow. + +First Gaoler Your death has eyes in 's head then; I have not seen + him so pictured: you must either be directed by + some that take upon them to know, or do take upon + yourself that which I am sure you do not know, or + jump the after inquiry on your own peril: and how + you shall speed in your journey's end, I think you'll + never return to tell one. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I tell thee, fellow, there are none want eyes to + direct them the way I am going, but such as wink and + will not use them. + +First Gaoler What an infinite mock is this, that a man should + have the best use of eyes to see the way of + blindness! I am sure hanging's the way of winking. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Knock off his manacles; bring your prisoner to the king. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou bring'st good news; I am called to be made free. + +First Gaoler I'll be hang'd then. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; no bolts for the dead. + + [Exeunt POSTHUMUS LEONATUS and Messenger] + +First Gaoler Unless a man would marry a gallows and beget young + gibbets, I never saw one so prone. Yet, on my + conscience, there are verier knaves desire to live, + for all he be a Roman: and there be some of them + too that die against their wills; so should I, if I + were one. I would we were all of one mind, and one + mind good; O, there were desolation of gaolers and + gallowses! I speak against my present profit, but + my wish hath a preferment in 't. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CYMBELINE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Cymbeline's tent. + + + [Enter CYMBELINE, BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, ARVIRAGUS, + PISANIO, Lords, Officers, and Attendants] + +CYMBELINE Stand by my side, you whom the gods have made + Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart + That the poor soldier that so richly fought, + Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked breast + Stepp'd before larges of proof, cannot be found: + He shall be happy that can find him, if + Our grace can make him so. + +BELARIUS I never saw + Such noble fury in so poor a thing; + Such precious deeds in one that promises nought + But beggary and poor looks. + +CYMBELINE No tidings of him? + +PISANIO He hath been search'd among the dead and living, + But no trace of him. + +CYMBELINE To my grief, I am + The heir of his reward; + + [To BELARIUS, GUIDERIUS, and ARVIRAGUS] + + which I will add + To you, the liver, heart and brain of Britain, + By whom I grant she lives. 'Tis now the time + To ask of whence you are. Report it. + +BELARIUS Sir, + In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: + Further to boast were neither true nor modest, + Unless I add, we are honest. + +CYMBELINE Bow your knees. + Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you + Companions to our person and will fit you + With dignities becoming your estates. + + [Enter CORNELIUS and Ladies] + + There's business in these faces. Why so sadly + Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, + And not o' the court of Britain. + +CORNELIUS Hail, great king! + To sour your happiness, I must report + The queen is dead. + +CYMBELINE Who worse than a physician + Would this report become? But I consider, + By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. How ended she? + +CORNELIUS With horror, madly dying, like her life, + Which, being cruel to the world, concluded + Most cruel to herself. What she confess'd + I will report, so please you: these her women + Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks + Were present when she finish'd. + +CYMBELINE Prithee, say. + +CORNELIUS First, she confess'd she never loved you, only + Affected greatness got by you, not you: + Married your royalty, was wife to your place; + Abhorr'd your person. + +CYMBELINE She alone knew this; + And, but she spoke it dying, I would not + Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. + +CORNELIUS Your daughter, whom she bore in hand to love + With such integrity, she did confess + Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life, + But that her flight prevented it, she had + Ta'en off by poison. + +CYMBELINE O most delicate fiend! + Who is 't can read a woman? Is there more? + +CORNELIUS More, sir, and worse. She did confess she had + For you a mortal mineral; which, being took, + Should by the minute feed on life and lingering + By inches waste you: in which time she purposed, + By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to + O'ercome you with her show, and in time, + When she had fitted you with her craft, to work + Her son into the adoption of the crown: + But, failing of her end by his strange absence, + Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite + Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented + The evils she hatch'd were not effected; so + Despairing died. + +CYMBELINE Heard you all this, her women? + +First Lady We did, so please your highness. + +CYMBELINE Mine eyes + Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; + Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart, + That thought her like her seeming; it had + been vicious + To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! + That it was folly in me, thou mayst say, + And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend all! + + [Enter LUCIUS, IACHIMO, the Soothsayer, and other + Roman Prisoners, guarded; POSTHUMUS LEONATUS + behind, and IMOGEN] + + Thou comest not, Caius, now for tribute that + The Britons have razed out, though with the loss + Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have made suit + That their good souls may be appeased with slaughter + Of you their captives, which ourself have granted: + So think of your estate. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Consider, sir, the chance of war: the day + Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, + We should not, when the blood was cool, + have threaten'd + Our prisoners with the sword. But since the gods + Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives + May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth + A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer: + Augustus lives to think on't: and so much + For my peculiar care. This one thing only + I will entreat; my boy, a Briton born, + Let him be ransom'd: never master had + A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, + So tender over his occasions, true, + So feat, so nurse-like: let his virtue join + With my request, which I make bold your highness + Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, + Though he have served a Roman: save him, sir, + And spare no blood beside. + +CYMBELINE I have surely seen him: + His favour is familiar to me. Boy, + Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, + And art mine own. I know not why, wherefore, + To say 'live, boy:' ne'er thank thy master; live: + And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, + Fitting my bounty and thy state, I'll give it; + Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner, + The noblest ta'en. + +IMOGEN I humbly thank your highness. + +CAIUS LUCIUS I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; + And yet I know thou wilt. + +IMOGEN No, no: alack, + There's other work in hand: I see a thing + Bitter to me as death: your life, good master, + Must shuffle for itself. + +CAIUS LUCIUS The boy disdains me, + He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys + That place them on the truth of girls and boys. + Why stands he so perplex'd? + +CYMBELINE What wouldst thou, boy? + I love thee more and more: think more and more + What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st on? speak, + Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy friend? + +IMOGEN He is a Roman; no more kin to me + Than I to your highness; who, being born your vassal, + Am something nearer. + +CYMBELINE Wherefore eyest him so? + +IMOGEN I'll tell you, sir, in private, if you please + To give me hearing. + +CYMBELINE Ay, with all my heart, + And lend my best attention. What's thy name? + +IMOGEN Fidele, sir. + +CYMBELINE Thou'rt my good youth, my page; + I'll be thy master: walk with me; speak freely. + + [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN converse apart] + +BELARIUS Is not this boy revived from death? + +ARVIRAGUS One sand another + Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad + Who died, and was Fidele. What think you? + +GUIDERIUS The same dead thing alive. + +BELARIUS Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us not; forbear; + Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I am sure + He would have spoke to us. + +GUIDERIUS But we saw him dead. + +BELARIUS Be silent; let's see further. + +PISANIO [Aside] It is my mistress: + Since she is living, let the time run on + To good or bad. + + [CYMBELINE and IMOGEN come forward] + +CYMBELINE Come, stand thou by our side; + Make thy demand aloud. + + [To IACHIMO] + Sir, step you forth; + Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; + Or, by our greatness and the grace of it, + Which is our honour, bitter torture shall + Winnow the truth from falsehood. On, speak to him. + +IMOGEN My boon is, that this gentleman may render + Of whom he had this ring. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Aside] What's that to him? + +CYMBELINE That diamond upon your finger, say + How came it yours? + +IACHIMO Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken that + Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. + +CYMBELINE How! me? + +IACHIMO I am glad to be constrain'd to utter that + Which torments me to conceal. By villany + I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; + Whom thou didst banish; and--which more may + grieve thee, + As it doth me--a nobler sir ne'er lived + 'Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, my lord? + +CYMBELINE All that belongs to this. + +IACHIMO That paragon, thy daughter,-- + For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits + Quail to remember--Give me leave; I faint. + +CYMBELINE My daughter! what of her? Renew thy strength: + I had rather thou shouldst live while nature will + Than die ere I hear more: strive, man, and speak. + +IACHIMO Upon a time,--unhappy was the clock + That struck the hour!--it was in Rome,--accursed + The mansion where!--'twas at a feast,--O, would + Our viands had been poison'd, or at least + Those which I heaved to head!--the good Posthumus-- + What should I say? he was too good to be + Where ill men were; and was the best of all + Amongst the rarest of good ones,--sitting sadly, + Hearing us praise our loves of Italy + For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast + Of him that best could speak, for feature, laming + The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Minerva. + Postures beyond brief nature, for condition, + A shop of all the qualities that man + Loves woman for, besides that hook of wiving, + Fairness which strikes the eye-- + +CYMBELINE I stand on fire: + Come to the matter. + +IACHIMO All too soon I shall, + Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. This Posthumus, + Most like a noble lord in love and one + That had a royal lover, took his hint; + And, not dispraising whom we praised,--therein + He was as calm as virtue--he began + His mistress' picture; which by his tongue + being made, + And then a mind put in't, either our brags + Were crack'd of kitchen-trolls, or his description + Proved us unspeaking sots. + +CYMBELINE Nay, nay, to the purpose. + +IACHIMO Your daughter's chastity--there it begins. + He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, + And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, + Made scruple of his praise; and wager'd with him + Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore + Upon his honour'd finger, to attain + In suit the place of's bed and win this ring + By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, + No lesser of her honour confident + Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; + And would so, had it been a carbuncle + Of Phoebus' wheel, and might so safely, had it + Been all the worth of's car. Away to Britain + Post I in this design: well may you, sir, + Remember me at court; where I was taught + Of your chaste daughter the wide difference + 'Twixt amorous and villanous. Being thus quench'd + Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain + 'Gan in your duller Britain operate + Most vilely; for my vantage, excellent: + And, to be brief, my practise so prevail'd, + That I return'd with simular proof enough + To make the noble Leonatus mad, + By wounding his belief in her renown + With tokens thus, and thus; averting notes + Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,-- + O cunning, how I got it!--nay, some marks + Of secret on her person, that he could not + But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, + I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon-- + Methinks, I see him now-- + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS [Advancing] Ay, so thou dost, + Italian fiend! Ay me, most credulous fool, + Egregious murderer, thief, any thing + That's due to all the villains past, in being, + To come! O, give me cord, or knife, or poison, + Some upright justicer! Thou, king, send out + For torturers ingenious: it is I + That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend + By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, + That kill'd thy daughter:--villain-like, I lie-- + That caused a lesser villain than myself, + A sacrilegious thief, to do't: the temple + Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself. + Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set + The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain + Be call'd Posthumus Leonitus; and + Be villany less than 'twas! O Imogen! + My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, + Imogen, Imogen! + +IMOGEN Peace, my lord; hear, hear-- + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Shall's have a play of this? Thou scornful page, + There lie thy part. + + [Striking her: she falls] + +PISANIO O, gentlemen, help! + Mine and your mistress! O, my lord Posthumus! + You ne'er kill'd Imogen til now. Help, help! + Mine honour'd lady! + +CYMBELINE Does the world go round? + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS How come these staggers on me? + +PISANIO Wake, my mistress! + +CYMBELINE If this be so, the gods do mean to strike me + To death with mortal joy. + +PISANIO How fares thy mistress? + +IMOGEN O, get thee from my sight; + Thou gavest me poison: dangerous fellow, hence! + Breathe not where princes are. + +CYMBELINE The tune of Imogen! + +PISANIO Lady, + The gods throw stones of sulphur on me, if + That box I gave you was not thought by me + A precious thing: I had it from the queen. + +CYMBELINE New matter still? + +IMOGEN It poison'd me. + +CORNELIUS O gods! + I left out one thing which the queen confess'd. + Which must approve thee honest: 'If Pisanio + Have,' said she, 'given his mistress that confection + Which I gave him for cordial, she is served + As I would serve a rat.' + +CYMBELINE What's this, Comelius? + +CORNELIUS The queen, sir, very oft importuned me + To temper poisons for her, still pretending + The satisfaction of her knowledge only + In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, + Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose + Was of more danger, did compound for her + A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease + The present power of life, but in short time + All offices of nature should again + Do their due functions. Have you ta'en of it? + +IMOGEN Most like I did, for I was dead. + +BELARIUS My boys, + There was our error. + +GUIDERIUS This is, sure, Fidele. + +IMOGEN Why did you throw your wedded lady from you? + Think that you are upon a rock; and now + Throw me again. + + [Embracing him] + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Hang there like a fruit, my soul, + Till the tree die! + +CYMBELINE How now, my flesh, my child! + What, makest thou me a dullard in this act? + Wilt thou not speak to me? + +IMOGEN [Kneeling] Your blessing, sir. + +BELARIUS [To GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS] Though you did love + this youth, I blame ye not: + You had a motive for't. + +CYMBELINE My tears that fall + Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, + Thy mother's dead. + +IMOGEN I am sorry for't, my lord. + +CYMBELINE O, she was nought; and long of her it was + That we meet here so strangely: but her son + Is gone, we know not how nor where. + +PISANIO My lord, + Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten, + Upon my lady's missing, came to me + With his sword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and swore, + If I discover'd not which way she was gone, + It was my instant death. By accident, + had a feigned letter of my master's + Then in my pocket; which directed him + To seek her on the mountains near to Milford; + Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, + Which he enforced from me, away he posts + With unchaste purpose and with oath to violate + My lady's honour: what became of him + I further know not. + +GUIDERIUS Let me end the story: + I slew him there. + +CYMBELINE Marry, the gods forfend! + I would not thy good deeds should from my lips + Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, + Deny't again. + +GUIDERIUS I have spoke it, and I did it. + +CYMBELINE He was a prince. + +GUIDERIUS A most incivil one: the wrongs he did me + Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me + With language that would make me spurn the sea, + If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; + And am right glad he is not standing here + To tell this tale of mine. + +CYMBELINE I am sorry for thee: + By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must + Endure our law: thou'rt dead. + +IMOGEN That headless man + I thought had been my lord. + +CYMBELINE Bind the offender, + And take him from our presence. + +BELARIUS Stay, sir king: + This man is better than the man he slew, + As well descended as thyself; and hath + More of thee merited than a band of Clotens + Had ever scar for. + + [To the Guard] + + Let his arms alone; + They were not born for bondage. + +CYMBELINE Why, old soldier, + Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, + By tasting of our wrath? How of descent + As good as we? + +ARVIRAGUS In that he spake too far. + +CYMBELINE And thou shalt die for't. + +BELARIUS We will die all three: + But I will prove that two on's are as good + As I have given out him. My sons, I must, + For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, + Though, haply, well for you. + +ARVIRAGUS Your danger's ours. + +GUIDERIUS And our good his. + +BELARIUS Have at it then, by leave. + Thou hadst, great king, a subject who + Was call'd Belarius. + +CYMBELINE What of him? he is + A banish'd traitor. + +BELARIUS He it is that hath + Assumed this age; indeed a banish'd man; + I know not how a traitor. + +CYMBELINE Take him hence: + The whole world shall not save him. + +BELARIUS Not too hot: + First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; + And let it be confiscate all, so soon + As I have received it. + +CYMBELINE Nursing of my sons! + +BELARIUS I am too blunt and saucy: here's my knee: + Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; + Then spare not the old father. Mighty sir, + These two young gentlemen, that call me father + And think they are my sons, are none of mine; + They are the issue of your loins, my liege, + And blood of your begetting. + +CYMBELINE How! my issue! + +BELARIUS So sure as you your father's. I, old Morgan, + Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd: + Your pleasure was my mere offence, my punishment + Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd + Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes-- + For such and so they are--these twenty years + Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I + Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as + Your highness knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, + Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these children + Upon my banishment: I moved her to't, + Having received the punishment before, + For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty + Excited me to treason: their dear loss, + The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped + Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious sir, + Here are your sons again; and I must lose + Two of the sweet'st companions in the world. + The benediction of these covering heavens + Fall on their heads like dew! for they are worthy + To inlay heaven with stars. + +CYMBELINE Thou weep'st, and speak'st. + The service that you three have done is more + Unlike than this thou tell'st. I lost my children: + If these be they, I know not how to wish + A pair of worthier sons. + +BELARIUS Be pleased awhile. + This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, + Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: + This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, + Your younger princely son; he, sir, was lapp'd + In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand + Of his queen mother, which for more probation + I can with ease produce. + +CYMBELINE Guiderius had + Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; + It was a mark of wonder. + +BELARIUS This is he; + Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: + It was wise nature's end in the donation, + To be his evidence now. + +CYMBELINE O, what, am I + A mother to the birth of three? Ne'er mother + Rejoiced deliverance more. Blest pray you be, + That, after this strange starting from your orbs, + may reign in them now! O Imogen, + Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. + +IMOGEN No, my lord; + I have got two worlds by 't. O my gentle brothers, + Have we thus met? O, never say hereafter + But I am truest speaker you call'd me brother, + When I was but your sister; I you brothers, + When ye were so indeed. + +CYMBELINE Did you e'er meet? + +ARVIRAGUS Ay, my good lord. + +GUIDERIUS And at first meeting loved; + Continued so, until we thought he died. + +CORNELIUS By the queen's dram she swallow'd. + +CYMBELINE O rare instinct! + When shall I hear all through? This fierce + abridgement + Hath to it circumstantial branches, which + Distinction should be rich in. Where? how lived You? + And when came you to serve our Roman captive? + How parted with your brothers? how first met them? + Why fled you from the court? and whither? These, + And your three motives to the battle, with + I know not how much more, should be demanded; + And all the other by-dependencies, + From chance to chance: but nor the time nor place + Will serve our long inter'gatories. See, + Posthumus anchors upon Imogen, + And she, like harmless lightning, throws her eye + On him, her brother, me, her master, hitting + Each object with a joy: the counterchange + Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground, + And smoke the temple with our sacrifices. + + [To BELARIUS] + + Thou art my brother; so we'll hold thee ever. + +IMOGEN You are my father too, and did relieve me, + To see this gracious season. + +CYMBELINE All o'erjoy'd, + Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too, + For they shall taste our comfort. + +IMOGEN My good master, + I will yet do you service. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Happy be you! + +CYMBELINE The forlorn soldier, that so nobly fought, + He would have well becomed this place, and graced + The thankings of a king. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS I am, sir, + The soldier that did company these three + In poor beseeming; 'twas a fitment for + The purpose I then follow'd. That I was he, + Speak, Iachimo: I had you down and might + Have made you finish. + +IACHIMO [Kneeling] I am down again: + But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, + As then your force did. Take that life, beseech you, + Which I so often owe: but your ring first; + And here the bracelet of the truest princess + That ever swore her faith. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Kneel not to me: + The power that I have on you is, to spare you; + The malice towards you to forgive you: live, + And deal with others better. + +CYMBELINE Nobly doom'd! + We'll learn our freeness of a son-in-law; + Pardon's the word to all. + +ARVIRAGUS You holp us, sir, + As you did mean indeed to be our brother; + Joy'd are we that you are. + +POSTHUMUS LEONATUS Your servant, princes. Good my lord of Rome, + Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, methought + Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, + Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows + Of mine own kindred: when I waked, I found + This label on my bosom; whose containing + Is so from sense in hardness, that I can + Make no collection of it: let him show + His skill in the construction. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Philarmonus! + +Soothsayer Here, my good lord. + +CAIUS LUCIUS Read, and declare the meaning. + +Soothsayer [Reads] 'When as a lion's whelp shall, to himself + unknown, without seeking find, and be embraced by a + piece of tender air; and when from a stately cedar + shall be lopped branches, which, being dead many + years, shall after revive, be jointed to the old + stock, and freshly grow; then shall Posthumus end + his miseries, Britain be fortunate and flourish in + peace and plenty.' + Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; + The fit and apt construction of thy name, + Being Leonatus, doth import so much. + + [To CYMBELINE] + + The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter, + Which we call 'mollis aer;' and 'mollis aer' + We term it 'mulier:' which 'mulier' I divine + Is this most constant wife; who, even now, + Answering the letter of the oracle, + Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about + With this most tender air. + +CYMBELINE This hath some seeming. + +Soothsayer The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, + Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point + Thy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n, + For many years thought dead, are now revived, + To the majestic cedar join'd, whose issue + Promises Britain peace and plenty. + +CYMBELINE Well + My peace we will begin. And, Caius Lucius, + Although the victor, we submit to Caesar, + And to the Roman empire; promising + To pay our wonted tribute, from the which + We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; + Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers, + Have laid most heavy hand. + +Soothsayer The fingers of the powers above do tune + The harmony of this peace. The vision + Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke + Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant + Is full accomplish'd; for the Roman eagle, + From south to west on wing soaring aloft, + Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun + So vanish'd: which foreshow'd our princely eagle, + The imperial Caesar, should again unite + His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, + Which shines here in the west. + +CYMBELINE Laud we the gods; + And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils + From our blest altars. Publish we this peace + To all our subjects. Set we forward: let + A Roman and a British ensign wave + Friendly together: so through Lud's-town march: + And in the temple of great Jupiter + Our peace we'll ratify; seal it with feasts. + Set on there! Never was a war did cease, + Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace. + + [Exeunt] + LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +FERDINAND king of Navarre. + + +BIRON | + | +LONGAVILLE | lords attending on the King. + | +DUMAIN | + + +BOYET | + | lords attending on the Princess of France. +MERCADE | + + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO a fantastical Spaniard. + +SIR NATHANIEL a curate. + +HOLOFERNES a schoolmaster. + +DULL a constable. + +COSTARD a clown. + +MOTH page to Armado. + + A Forester. + + The PRINCESS of France: (PRINCESS:) + + +ROSALINE | + | +MARIA | ladies attending on the Princess. + | +KATHARINE | + + +JAQUENETTA a country wench. + + Lords, Attendants, &c. + (First Lord:) + + +SCENE Navarre. + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I The king of Navarre's park. + + + [Enter FERDINAND king of Navarre, BIRON, LONGAVILLE + and DUMAIN] + +FERDINAND Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, + Live register'd upon our brazen tombs + And then grace us in the disgrace of death; + When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, + The endeavor of this present breath may buy + That honour which shall bate his scythe's keen edge + And make us heirs of all eternity. + Therefore, brave conquerors,--for so you are, + That war against your own affections + And the huge army of the world's desires,-- + Our late edict shall strongly stand in force: + Navarre shall be the wonder of the world; + Our court shall be a little Academe, + Still and contemplative in living art. + You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville, + Have sworn for three years' term to live with me + My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes + That are recorded in this schedule here: + Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names, + That his own hand may strike his honour down + That violates the smallest branch herein: + If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do, + Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too. + +LONGAVILLE I am resolved; 'tis but a three years' fast: + The mind shall banquet, though the body pine: + Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits + Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits. + +DUMAIN My loving lord, Dumain is mortified: + The grosser manner of these world's delights + He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves: + To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die; + With all these living in philosophy. + +BIRON I can but say their protestation over; + So much, dear liege, I have already sworn, + That is, to live and study here three years. + But there are other strict observances; + As, not to see a woman in that term, + Which I hope well is not enrolled there; + And one day in a week to touch no food + And but one meal on every day beside, + The which I hope is not enrolled there; + And then, to sleep but three hours in the night, + And not be seen to wink of all the day-- + When I was wont to think no harm all night + And make a dark night too of half the day-- + Which I hope well is not enrolled there: + O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep, + Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep! + +FERDINAND Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these. + +BIRON Let me say no, my liege, an if you please: + I only swore to study with your grace + And stay here in your court for three years' space. + +LONGAVILLE You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest. + +BIRON By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest. + What is the end of study? let me know. + +FERDINAND Why, that to know, which else we should not know. + +BIRON Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense? + +FERDINAND Ay, that is study's godlike recompense. + +BIRON Come on, then; I will swear to study so, + To know the thing I am forbid to know: + As thus,--to study where I well may dine, + When I to feast expressly am forbid; + Or study where to meet some mistress fine, + When mistresses from common sense are hid; + Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, + Study to break it and not break my troth. + If study's gain be thus and this be so, + Study knows that which yet it doth not know: + Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no. + +FERDINAND These be the stops that hinder study quite + And train our intellects to vain delight. + +BIRON Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, + Which with pain purchased doth inherit pain: + As, painfully to pore upon a book + To seek the light of truth; while truth the while + Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look: + Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: + So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, + Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. + Study me how to please the eye indeed + By fixing it upon a fairer eye, + Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed + And give him light that it was blinded by. + Study is like the heaven's glorious sun + That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks: + Small have continual plodders ever won + Save base authority from others' books + These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights + That give a name to every fixed star + Have no more profit of their shining nights + Than those that walk and wot not what they are. + Too much to know is to know nought but fame; + And every godfather can give a name. + +FERDINAND How well he's read, to reason against reading! + +DUMAIN Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding! + +LONGAVILLE He weeds the corn and still lets grow the weeding. + +BIRON The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding. + +DUMAIN How follows that? + +BIRON Fit in his place and time. + +DUMAIN In reason nothing. + +BIRON Something then in rhyme. + +FERDINAND Biron is like an envious sneaping frost, + That bites the first-born infants of the spring. + +BIRON Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast + Before the birds have any cause to sing? + Why should I joy in any abortive birth? + At Christmas I no more desire a rose + Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; + But like of each thing that in season grows. + So you, to study now it is too late, + Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. + +FERDINAND Well, sit you out: go home, Biron: adieu. + +BIRON No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you: + And though I have for barbarism spoke more + Than for that angel knowledge you can say, + Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore + And bide the penance of each three years' day. + Give me the paper; let me read the same; + And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name. + +FERDINAND How well this yielding rescues thee from shame! + +BIRON [Reads] 'Item, That no woman shall come within a + mile of my court:' Hath this been proclaimed? + +LONGAVILLE Four days ago. + +BIRON Let's see the penalty. + + [Reads] + + 'On pain of losing her tongue.' Who devised this penalty? + +LONGAVILLE Marry, that did I. + +BIRON Sweet lord, and why? + +LONGAVILLE To fright them hence with that dread penalty. + +BIRON A dangerous law against gentility! + + [Reads] + + 'Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman + within the term of three years, he shall endure such + public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.' + This article, my liege, yourself must break; + For well you know here comes in embassy + The French king's daughter with yourself to speak-- + A maid of grace and complete majesty-- + About surrender up of Aquitaine + To her decrepit, sick and bedrid father: + Therefore this article is made in vain, + Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. + +FERDINAND What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot. + +BIRON So study evermore is overshot: + While it doth study to have what it would + It doth forget to do the thing it should, + And when it hath the thing it hunteth most, + 'Tis won as towns with fire, so won, so lost. + +FERDINAND We must of force dispense with this decree; + She must lie here on mere necessity. + +BIRON Necessity will make us all forsworn + Three thousand times within this three years' space; + For every man with his affects is born, + Not by might master'd but by special grace: + If I break faith, this word shall speak for me; + I am forsworn on 'mere necessity.' + So to the laws at large I write my name: + + [Subscribes] + + And he that breaks them in the least degree + Stands in attainder of eternal shame: + Suggestions are to other as to me; + But I believe, although I seem so loath, + I am the last that will last keep his oath. + But is there no quick recreation granted? + +FERDINAND Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted + With a refined traveller of Spain; + A man in all the world's new fashion planted, + That hath a mint of phrases in his brain; + One whom the music of his own vain tongue + Doth ravish like enchanting harmony; + A man of complements, whom right and wrong + Have chose as umpire of their mutiny: + This child of fancy, that Armado hight, + For interim to our studies shall relate + In high-born words the worth of many a knight + From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate. + How you delight, my lords, I know not, I; + But, I protest, I love to hear him lie + And I will use him for my minstrelsy. + +BIRON Armado is a most illustrious wight, + A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. + +LONGAVILLE Costard the swain and he shall be our sport; + And so to study, three years is but short. + + [Enter DULL with a letter, and COSTARD] + +DULL Which is the duke's own person? + +BIRON This, fellow: what wouldst? + +DULL I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his + grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person + in flesh and blood. + +BIRON This is he. + +DULL Signior Arme--Arme--commends you. There's villany + abroad: this letter will tell you more. + +COSTARD Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me. + +FERDINAND A letter from the magnificent Armado. + +BIRON How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words. + +LONGAVILLE A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience! + +BIRON To hear? or forbear laughing? + +LONGAVILLE To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to + forbear both. + +BIRON Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to + climb in the merriness. + +COSTARD The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta. + The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner. + +BIRON In what manner? + +COSTARD In manner and form following, sir; all those three: + I was seen with her in the manor-house, sitting with + her upon the form, and taken following her into the + park; which, put together, is in manner and form + following. Now, sir, for the manner,--it is the + manner of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,-- + in some form. + +BIRON For the following, sir? + +COSTARD As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend + the right! + +FERDINAND Will you hear this letter with attention? + +BIRON As we would hear an oracle. + +COSTARD Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh. + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and + sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god, + and body's fostering patron.' + +COSTARD Not a word of Costard yet. + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'So it is,'-- + +COSTARD It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in + telling true, but so. + +FERDINAND Peace! + +COSTARD Be to me and every man that dares not fight! + +FERDINAND No words! + +COSTARD Of other men's secrets, I beseech you. + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'So it is, besieged with sable-coloured + melancholy, I did commend the black-oppressing humour + to the most wholesome physic of thy health-giving + air; and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to + walk. The time when. About the sixth hour; when + beasts most graze, birds best peck, and men sit down + to that nourishment which is called supper: so much + for the time when. Now for the ground which; which, + I mean, I walked upon: it is y-cleped thy park. Then + for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter + that obscene and preposterous event, that draweth + from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which + here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest; + but to the place where; it standeth north-north-east + and by east from the west corner of thy curious- + knotted garden: there did I see that low-spirited + swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,'-- + +COSTARD Me? + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'that unlettered small-knowing soul,'-- + +COSTARD Me? + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'that shallow vassal,'-- + +COSTARD Still me? + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'which, as I remember, hight Costard,'-- + +COSTARD O, me! + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'sorted and consorted, contrary to thy + established proclaimed edict and continent canon, + which with,--O, with--but with this I passion to say + wherewith,-- + +COSTARD With a wench. + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'with a child of our grandmother Eve, a + female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a + woman. Him I, as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on, + have sent to thee, to receive the meed of + punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Anthony + Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and + estimation.' + +DULL 'Me, an't shall please you; I am Anthony Dull. + +FERDINAND [Reads] 'For Jaquenetta,--so is the weaker vessel + called which I apprehended with the aforesaid + swain,--I keep her as a vessel of the law's fury; + and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring + her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted + and heart-burning heat of duty. + DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.' + +BIRON This is not so well as I looked for, but the best + that ever I heard. + +FERDINAND Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say + you to this? + +COSTARD Sir, I confess the wench. + +FERDINAND Did you hear the proclamation? + +COSTARD I do confess much of the hearing it but little of + the marking of it. + +FERDINAND It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, to be taken + with a wench. + +COSTARD I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damsel. + +FERDINAND Well, it was proclaimed 'damsel.' + +COSTARD This was no damsel, neither, sir; she was a virgin. + +FERDINAND It is so varied, too; for it was proclaimed 'virgin.' + +COSTARD If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid. + +FERDINAND This maid will not serve your turn, sir. + +COSTARD This maid will serve my turn, sir. + +FERDINAND Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast + a week with bran and water. + +COSTARD I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge. + +FERDINAND And Don Armado shall be your keeper. + My Lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er: + And go we, lords, to put in practise that + Which each to other hath so strongly sworn. + + [Exeunt FERDINAND, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN] + +BIRON I'll lay my head to any good man's hat, + These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn. + Sirrah, come on. + +COSTARD I suffer for the truth, sir; for true it is, I was + taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true + girl; and therefore welcome the sour cup of + prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and + till then, sit thee down, sorrow! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit + grows melancholy? + +MOTH A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp. + +MOTH No, no; O Lord, sir, no. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my + tender juvenal? + +MOTH By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Why tough senior? why tough senior? + +MOTH Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton + appertaining to thy young days, which we may + nominate tender. + +MOTH And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your + old time, which we may name tough. + +DON ADRIANO DE +ARMADO Pretty and apt. + +MOTH How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or + I apt, and my saying pretty? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Thou pretty, because little. + +MOTH Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO And therefore apt, because quick. + +MOTH Speak you this in my praise, master? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO In thy condign praise. + +MOTH I will praise an eel with the same praise. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO What, that an eel is ingenious? + +MOTH That an eel is quick. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood. + +MOTH I am answered, sir. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I love not to be crossed. + +MOTH [Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I have promised to study three years with the duke. + +MOTH You may do it in an hour, sir. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Impossible. + +MOTH How many is one thrice told? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster. + +MOTH You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I confess both: they are both the varnish of a + complete man. + +MOTH Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of + deuce-ace amounts to. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO It doth amount to one more than two. + +MOTH Which the base vulgar do call three. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO True. + +MOTH Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here + is three studied, ere ye'll thrice wink: and how + easy it is to put 'years' to the word 'three,' and + study three years in two words, the dancing horse + will tell you. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO A most fine figure! + +MOTH To prove you a cipher. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is + base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a + base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour + of affection would deliver me from the reprobate + thought of it, I would take Desire prisoner, and + ransom him to any French courtier for a new-devised + courtesy. I think scorn to sigh: methinks I should + outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men + have been in love? + +MOTH Hercules, master. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name + more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good + repute and carriage. + +MOTH Samson, master: he was a man of good carriage, great + carriage, for he carried the town-gates on his back + like a porter: and he was in love. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO O well-knit Samson! strong-jointed Samson! I do + excel thee in my rapier as much as thou didst me in + carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Samson's + love, my dear Moth? + +MOTH A woman, master. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Of what complexion? + +MOTH Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Tell me precisely of what complexion. + +MOTH Of the sea-water green, sir. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Is that one of the four complexions? + +MOTH As I have read, sir; and the best of them too. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Green indeed is the colour of lovers; but to have a + love of that colour, methinks Samson had small reason + for it. He surely affected her for her wit. + +MOTH It was so, sir; for she had a green wit. +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO My love is most immaculate white and red. + +MOTH Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under + such colours. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Define, define, well-educated infant. + +MOTH My father's wit and my mother's tongue, assist me! + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and + pathetical! + +MOTH If she be made of white and red, + Her faults will ne'er be known, + For blushing cheeks by faults are bred + And fears by pale white shown: + Then if she fear, or be to blame, + By this you shall not know, + For still her cheeks possess the same + Which native she doth owe. + A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of + white and red. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar? + +MOTH The world was very guilty of such a ballad some + three ages since: but I think now 'tis not to be + found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for + the writing nor the tune. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I may + example my digression by some mighty precedent. + Boy, I do love that country girl that I took in the + park with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well. + +MOTH [Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love than + my master. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love. + +MOTH And that's great marvel, loving a light wench. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I say, sing. + +MOTH Forbear till this company be past. + + [Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA] + +DULL Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard + safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight + nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a week. + For this damsel, I must keep her at the park: she + is allowed for the day-woman. Fare you well. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I do betray myself with blushing. Maid! + +JAQUENETTA Man? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I will visit thee at the lodge. + +JAQUENETTA That's hereby. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I know where it is situate. + +JAQUENETTA Lord, how wise you are! + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I will tell thee wonders. + +JAQUENETTA With that face? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I love thee. + +JAQUENETTA So I heard you say. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO And so, farewell. + +JAQUENETTA Fair weather after you! + +DULL Come, Jaquenetta, away! + + [Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou + be pardoned. + +COSTARD Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a + full stomach. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Thou shalt be heavily punished. + +COSTARD I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they + are but lightly rewarded. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Take away this villain; shut him up. + +MOTH Come, you transgressing slave; away! + +COSTARD Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose. + +MOTH No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison. + +COSTARD Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation + that I have seen, some shall see. + +MOTH What shall some see? + +COSTARD Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon. + It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their + words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank + God I have as little patience as another man; and + therefore I can be quiet. + + [Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I do affect the very ground, which is base, where + her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which + is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which + is a great argument of falsehood, if I love. And + how can that be true love which is falsely + attempted? Love is a familiar; Love is a devil: + there is no evil angel but Love. Yet was Samson so + tempted, and he had an excellent strength; yet was + Solomon so seduced, and he had a very good wit. + Cupid's butt-shaft is too hard for Hercules' club; + and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. + The first and second cause will not serve my turn; + the passado he respects not, the duello he regards + not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his + glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust rapier! + be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea, + he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, + for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit; + write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. + + [Exit] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I The same. + + + [Enter the PRINCESS of France, ROSALINE, MARIA, + KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, and other Attendants] + +BOYET Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits: + Consider who the king your father sends, + To whom he sends, and what's his embassy: + Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem, + To parley with the sole inheritor + Of all perfections that a man may owe, + Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight + Than Aquitaine, a dowry for a queen. + Be now as prodigal of all dear grace + As Nature was in making graces dear + When she did starve the general world beside + And prodigally gave them all to you. + +PRINCESS Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, + Needs not the painted flourish of your praise: + Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye, + Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues: + I am less proud to hear you tell my worth + Than you much willing to be counted wise + In spending your wit in the praise of mine. + But now to task the tasker: good Boyet, + You are not ignorant, all-telling fame + Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow, + Till painful study shall outwear three years, + No woman may approach his silent court: + Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course, + Before we enter his forbidden gates, + To know his pleasure; and in that behalf, + Bold of your worthiness, we single you + As our best-moving fair solicitor. + Tell him, the daughter of the King of France, + On serious business, craving quick dispatch, + Importunes personal conference with his grace: + Haste, signify so much; while we attend, + Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will. + +BOYET Proud of employment, willingly I go. + +PRINCESS All pride is willing pride, and yours is so. + + [Exit BOYET] + + Who are the votaries, my loving lords, + That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? + +First Lord Lord Longaville is one. + +PRINCESS Know you the man? + +MARIA I know him, madam: at a marriage-feast, + Between Lord Perigort and the beauteous heir + Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized + In Normandy, saw I this Longaville: + A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd; + Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms: + Nothing becomes him ill that he would well. + The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, + If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil, + Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will; + Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills + It should none spare that come within his power. + +PRINCESS Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so? + +MARIA They say so most that most his humours know. + +PRINCESS Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow. + Who are the rest? + +KATHARINE The young Dumain, a well-accomplished youth, + Of all that virtue love for virtue loved: + Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill; + For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, + And shape to win grace though he had no wit. + I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once; + And much too little of that good I saw + Is my report to his great worthiness. + +ROSALINE Another of these students at that time + Was there with him, if I have heard a truth. + Biron they call him; but a merrier man, + Within the limit of becoming mirth, + I never spent an hour's talk withal: + His eye begets occasion for his wit; + For every object that the one doth catch + The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, + Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, + Delivers in such apt and gracious words + That aged ears play truant at his tales + And younger hearings are quite ravished; + So sweet and voluble is his discourse. + +PRINCESS God bless my ladies! are they all in love, + That every one her own hath garnished + With such bedecking ornaments of praise? + +First Lord Here comes Boyet. + + [Re-enter BOYET] + +PRINCESS Now, what admittance, lord? + +BOYET Navarre had notice of your fair approach; + And he and his competitors in oath + Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady, + Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt: + He rather means to lodge you in the field, + Like one that comes here to besiege his court, + Than seek a dispensation for his oath, + To let you enter his unpeopled house. + Here comes Navarre. + + [Enter FERDINAND, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BIRON, and + Attendants] + +FERDINAND Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre. + +PRINCESS 'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have + not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be + yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine. + +FERDINAND You shall be welcome, madam, to my court. + +PRINCESS I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither. + +FERDINAND Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath. + +PRINCESS Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn. + +FERDINAND Not for the world, fair madam, by my will. + +PRINCESS Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else. + +FERDINAND Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. + +PRINCESS Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise, + Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance. + I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping: + Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, + And sin to break it. + But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold: + To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. + Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming, + And suddenly resolve me in my suit. + +FERDINAND Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. + +PRINCESS You will the sooner, that I were away; + For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay. + +BIRON Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? + +ROSALINE Did not I dance with you in Brabant once? + +BIRON I know you did. + +ROSALINE How needless was it then to ask the question! + +BIRON You must not be so quick. + +ROSALINE 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such questions. + +BIRON Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire. + +ROSALINE Not till it leave the rider in the mire. + +BIRON What time o' day? + +ROSALINE The hour that fools should ask. + +BIRON Now fair befall your mask! + +ROSALINE Fair fall the face it covers! + +BIRON And send you many lovers! + +ROSALINE Amen, so you be none. + +BIRON Nay, then will I be gone. + +FERDINAND Madam, your father here doth intimate + The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; + Being but the one half of an entire sum + Disbursed by my father in his wars. + But say that he or we, as neither have, + Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid + A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which, + One part of Aquitaine is bound to us, + Although not valued to the money's worth. + If then the king your father will restore + But that one half which is unsatisfied, + We will give up our right in Aquitaine, + And hold fair friendship with his majesty. + But that, it seems, he little purposeth, + For here he doth demand to have repaid + A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands, + On payment of a hundred thousand crowns, + To have his title live in Aquitaine; + Which we much rather had depart withal + And have the money by our father lent + Than Aquitaine so gelded as it is. + Dear Princess, were not his requests so far + From reason's yielding, your fair self should make + A yielding 'gainst some reason in my breast + And go well satisfied to France again. + +PRINCESS You do the king my father too much wrong + And wrong the reputation of your name, + In so unseeming to confess receipt + Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. + +FERDINAND I do protest I never heard of it; + And if you prove it, I'll repay it back + Or yield up Aquitaine. + +PRINCESS We arrest your word. + Boyet, you can produce acquittances + For such a sum from special officers + Of Charles his father. + +FERDINAND Satisfy me so. + +BOYET So please your grace, the packet is not come + Where that and other specialties are bound: + To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. + +FERDINAND It shall suffice me: at which interview + All liberal reason I will yield unto. + Meantime receive such welcome at my hand + As honour without breach of honour may + Make tender of to thy true worthiness: + You may not come, fair princess, in my gates; + But here without you shall be so received + As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart, + Though so denied fair harbour in my house. + Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell: + To-morrow shall we visit you again. + +PRINCESS Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace! + +FERDINAND Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! + + [Exit] + +BIRON Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart. + +ROSALINE Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it. + +BIRON I would you heard it groan. + +ROSALINE Is the fool sick? + +BIRON Sick at the heart. + +ROSALINE Alack, let it blood. + +BIRON Would that do it good? + +ROSALINE My physic says 'ay.' + +BIRON Will you prick't with your eye? + +ROSALINE No point, with my knife. + +BIRON Now, God save thy life! + +ROSALINE And yours from long living! + +BIRON I cannot stay thanksgiving. + + [Retiring] + +DUMAIN Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same? + +BOYET The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name. + +DUMAIN A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well. + + [Exit] + +LONGAVILLE I beseech you a word: what is she in the white? + +BOYET A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light. + +LONGAVILLE Perchance light in the light. I desire her name. + +BOYET She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame. + +LONGAVILLE Pray you, sir, whose daughter? + +BOYET Her mother's, I have heard. + +LONGAVILLE God's blessing on your beard! + +BOYET Good sir, be not offended. + She is an heir of Falconbridge. + +LONGAVILLE Nay, my choler is ended. + She is a most sweet lady. + +BOYET Not unlike, sir, that may be. + + [Exit LONGAVILLE] + +BIRON What's her name in the cap? + +BOYET Rosaline, by good hap. + +BIRON Is she wedded or no? + +BOYET To her will, sir, or so. + +BIRON You are welcome, sir: adieu. + +BOYET Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. + + [Exit BIRON] + +MARIA That last is Biron, the merry madcap lord: + Not a word with him but a jest. + +BOYET And every jest but a word. + +PRINCESS It was well done of you to take him at his word. + +BOYET I was as willing to grapple as he was to board. + +MARIA Two hot sheeps, marry. + +BOYET And wherefore not ships? + No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips. + +MARIA You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest? + +BOYET So you grant pasture for me. + + [Offering to kiss her] + +MARIA Not so, gentle beast: + My lips are no common, though several they be. + +BOYET Belonging to whom? + +MARIA To my fortunes and me. + +PRINCESS Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree: + This civil war of wits were much better used + On Navarre and his book-men; for here 'tis abused. + +BOYET If my observation, which very seldom lies, + By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes, + Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. + +PRINCESS With what? + +BOYET With that which we lovers entitle affected. + +PRINCESS Your reason? + +BOYET Why, all his behaviors did make their retire + To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire: + His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd, + Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd: + His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see, + Did stumble with haste in his eyesight to be; + All senses to that sense did make their repair, + To feel only looking on fairest of fair: + Methought all his senses were lock'd in his eye, + As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy; + Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass'd, + Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd: + His face's own margent did quote such amazes + That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes. + I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his, + An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss. + +PRINCESS Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed. + +BOYET But to speak that in words which his eye hath + disclosed. + I only have made a mouth of his eye, + By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. + +ROSALINE Thou art an old love-monger and speakest skilfully. + +MARIA He is Cupid's grandfather and learns news of him. + +ROSALINE Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim. + +BOYET Do you hear, my mad wenches? + +MARIA No. + +BOYET What then, do you see? + +ROSALINE Ay, our way to be gone. + +BOYET You are too hard for me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I The same. + + + [Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing. + +MOTH Concolinel. + + [Singing] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key, + give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately + hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love. + +MOTH Master, will you win your love with a French brawl? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO How meanest thou? brawling in French? + +MOTH No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at + the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour + it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and + sing a note, sometime through the throat, as if you + swallowed love with singing love, sometime through + the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling + love; with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of + your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin-belly + doublet like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in + your pocket like a man after the old painting; and + keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away. + These are complements, these are humours; these + betray nice wenches, that would be betrayed without + these; and make them men of note--do you note + me?--that most are affected to these. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO How hast thou purchased this experience? + +MOTH By my penny of observation. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO But O,--but O,-- + +MOTH 'The hobby-horse is forgot.' + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'? + +MOTH No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your + love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Almost I had. + +MOTH Negligent student! learn her by heart. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO By heart and in heart, boy. + +MOTH And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO What wilt thou prove? + +MOTH A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without, upon + the instant: by heart you love her, because your + heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, + because your heart is in love with her; and out of + heart you love her, being out of heart that you + cannot enjoy her. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I am all these three. + +MOTH And three times as much more, and yet nothing at + all. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter. + +MOTH A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador + for an ass. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Ha, ha! what sayest thou? + +MOTH Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, + for he is very slow-gaited. But I go. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The way is but short: away! + +MOTH As swift as lead, sir. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The meaning, pretty ingenious? + Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? + +MOTH Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I say lead is slow. + +MOTH You are too swift, sir, to say so: + Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet smoke of rhetoric! + He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he: + I shoot thee at the swain. + +MOTH Thump then and I flee. + + [Exit] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace! + By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face: + Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. + My herald is return'd. + + [Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD] + +MOTH A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin. + +COSTARD No enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the + mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no + l'envoy, no l'envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain! + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly + thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes + me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars! + Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and + the word l'envoy for a salve? + +MOTH Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain + Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain. + I will example it: + The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. + There's the moral. Now the l'envoy. + +MOTH I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. + +MOTH Until the goose came out of door, + And stay'd the odds by adding four. + Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with + my l'envoy. + The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, + Were still at odds, being but three. +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Until the goose came out of door, + Staying the odds by adding four. + +MOTH A good l'envoy, ending in the goose: would you + desire more? + +COSTARD The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat. + Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat. + To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose: + Let me see; a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin? + +MOTH By saying that a costard was broken in a shin. + Then call'd you for the l'envoy. + +COSTARD True, and I for a plantain: thus came your + argument in; + Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought; + And he ended the market. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO But tell me; how was there a costard broken in a shin? + +MOTH I will tell you sensibly. + +COSTARD Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak that l'envoy: + I Costard, running out, that was safely within, + Fell over the threshold and broke my shin. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO We will talk no more of this matter. + +COSTARD Till there be more matter in the shin. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. + +COSTARD O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some l'envoy, + some goose, in this. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty, + enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, + restrained, captivated, bound. + +COSTARD True, true; and now you will be my purgation and let me loose. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and, + in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: + bear this significant + + [Giving a letter] + + to the country maid Jaquenetta: + there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine + honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow. + + [Exit] + +MOTH Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu. + +COSTARD My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew! + + [Exit MOTH] + + Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration! + O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three + farthings--remuneration.--'What's the price of this + inkle?'--'One penny.'--'No, I'll give you a + remuneration:' why, it carries it. Remuneration! + why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will + never buy and sell out of this word. + + [Enter BIRON] + +BIRON O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met. + +COSTARD Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man + buy for a remuneration? + +BIRON What is a remuneration? + +COSTARD Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing. + +BIRON Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk. + +COSTARD I thank your worship: God be wi' you! + +BIRON Stay, slave; I must employ thee: + As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave, + Do one thing for me that I shall entreat. + +COSTARD When would you have it done, sir? + +BIRON This afternoon. + +COSTARD Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well. + +BIRON Thou knowest not what it is. + +COSTARD I shall know, sir, when I have done it. + +BIRON Why, villain, thou must know first. + +COSTARD I will come to your worship to-morrow morning. + +BIRON It must be done this afternoon. + Hark, slave, it is but this: + The princess comes to hunt here in the park, + And in her train there is a gentle lady; + When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name, + And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; + And to her white hand see thou do commend + This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go. + + [Giving him a shilling] + +COSTARD Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration, + a'leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I + will do it sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration! + + [Exit] + +BIRON And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip; + A very beadle to a humorous sigh; + A critic, nay, a night-watch constable; + A domineering pedant o'er the boy; + Than whom no mortal so magnificent! + This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; + This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; + Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, + The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, + Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, + Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, + Sole imperator and great general + Of trotting 'paritors:--O my little heart:-- + And I to be a corporal of his field, + And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! + What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! + A woman, that is like a German clock, + Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, + And never going aright, being a watch, + But being watch'd that it may still go right! + Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all; + And, among three, to love the worst of all; + A wightly wanton with a velvet brow, + With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes; + Ay, and by heaven, one that will do the deed + Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard: + And I to sigh for her! to watch for her! + To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague + That Cupid will impose for my neglect + Of his almighty dreadful little might. + Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue and groan: + Some men must love my lady and some Joan. + + [Exit] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The same. + + + [Enter the PRINCESS, and her train, a Forester, + BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE] + +PRINCESS Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard + Against the steep uprising of the hill? + +BOYET I know not; but I think it was not he. + +PRINCESS Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind. + Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch: + On Saturday we will return to France. + Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush + That we must stand and play the murderer in? + +Forester Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice; + A stand where you may make the fairest shoot. + +PRINCESS I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot, + And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot. + +Forester Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so. + +PRINCESS What, what? first praise me and again say no? + O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe! + +Forester Yes, madam, fair. + +PRINCESS Nay, never paint me now: + Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow. + Here, good my glass, take this for telling true: + Fair payment for foul words is more than due. + +Forester Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. + +PRINCESS See see, my beauty will be saved by merit! + O heresy in fair, fit for these days! + A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. + But come, the bow: now mercy goes to kill, + And shooting well is then accounted ill. + Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: + Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; + If wounding, then it was to show my skill, + That more for praise than purpose meant to kill. + And out of question so it is sometimes, + Glory grows guilty of detested crimes, + When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part, + We bend to that the working of the heart; + As I for praise alone now seek to spill + The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill. + +BOYET Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty + Only for praise sake, when they strive to be + Lords o'er their lords? + +PRINCESS Only for praise: and praise we may afford + To any lady that subdues a lord. + +BOYET Here comes a member of the commonwealth. + + [Enter COSTARD] + +COSTARD God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady? + +PRINCESS Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads. + +COSTARD Which is the greatest lady, the highest? + +PRINCESS The thickest and the tallest. + +COSTARD The thickest and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth. + An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit, + One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit. + Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here. + +PRINCESS What's your will, sir? what's your will? + +COSTARD I have a letter from Monsieur Biron to one Lady Rosaline. + +PRINCESS O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine: + Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve; + Break up this capon. + +BOYET I am bound to serve. + This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; + It is writ to Jaquenetta. + +PRINCESS We will read it, I swear. + Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. + + [Reads] + +BOYET 'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; + true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that + thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful + than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have + commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The + magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set + eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar + Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, + Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the + vulgar,--O base and obscure vulgar!--videlicet, He + came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two; + overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he + come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to + whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the + beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The + conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's. + The captive is enriched: on whose side? the + beggar's. The catastrophe is a nuptial: on whose + side? the king's: no, on both in one, or one in + both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: + thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy lowliness. + Shall I command thy love? I may: shall I enforce + thy love? I could: shall I entreat thy love? I + will. What shalt thou exchange for rags? robes; + for tittles? titles; for thyself? me. Thus, + expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy foot, + my eyes on thy picture. and my heart on thy every + part. Thine, in the dearest design of industry, + DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO.' + + Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar + 'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey. + Submissive fall his princely feet before, + And he from forage will incline to play: + But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then? + Food for his rage, repasture for his den. + +PRINCESS What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter? + What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better? + +BOYET I am much deceived but I remember the style. + +PRINCESS Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile. + +BOYET This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court; + A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport + To the prince and his bookmates. + +PRINCESS Thou fellow, a word: + Who gave thee this letter? + +COSTARD I told you; my lord. + +PRINCESS To whom shouldst thou give it? + +COSTARD From my lord to my lady. + +PRINCESS From which lord to which lady? + +COSTARD From my lord Biron, a good master of mine, + To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline. + +PRINCESS Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away. + + [To ROSALINE] + + Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day. + + [Exeunt PRINCESS and train] + +BOYET Who is the suitor? who is the suitor? + +ROSALINE Shall I teach you to know? + +BOYET Ay, my continent of beauty. + +ROSALINE Why, she that bears the bow. + Finely put off! + +BOYET My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry, + Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry. + Finely put on! + +ROSALINE Well, then, I am the shooter. + +BOYET And who is your deer? + +ROSALINE If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near. + Finely put on, indeed! + +MARIA You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes + at the brow. + +BOYET But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now? + +ROSALINE Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was + a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as + touching the hit it? + +BOYET So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a + woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little + wench, as touching the hit it. + +ROSALINE Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it, + Thou canst not hit it, my good man. + +BOYET An I cannot, cannot, cannot, + An I cannot, another can. + + [Exeunt ROSALINE and KATHARINE] + +COSTARD By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it! + +MARIA A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it. + +BOYET A mark! O, mark but that mark! A mark, says my lady! + Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be. + +MARIA Wide o' the bow hand! i' faith, your hand is out. + +COSTARD Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout. + +BOYET An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in. + +COSTARD Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin. + +MARIA Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul. + +COSTARD She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl. + +BOYET I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl. + + [Exeunt BOYET and MARIA] + +COSTARD By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! + Lord, Lord, how the ladies and I have put him down! + O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony + vulgar wit! + When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it + were, so fit. + Armado o' th' one side,--O, a most dainty man! + To see him walk before a lady and to bear her fan! + To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' + will swear! + And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit! + Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! + Sola, sola! + + [Shout within] + + [Exit COSTARD, running] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL] + +SIR NATHANIEL Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony + of a good conscience. + +HOLOFERNES The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe + as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in + the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven; + and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra, + the soil, the land, the earth. + +SIR NATHANIEL Truly, Master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly + varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I + assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. + +HOLOFERNES Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. + +DULL 'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket. + +HOLOFERNES Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of + insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of + explication; facere, as it were, replication, or + rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his + inclination, after his undressed, unpolished, + uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather, + unlettered, or ratherest, unconfirmed fashion, to + insert again my haud credo for a deer. + +DULL I said the deer was not a haud credo; twas a pricket. + +HOLOFERNES Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus! + O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look! + +SIR NATHANIEL Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred + in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he + hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not + replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in + the duller parts: + And such barren plants are set before us, that we + thankful should be, + Which we of taste and feeling are, for those parts that + do fructify in us more than he. + For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool, + So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school: + But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind, + Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. + +DULL You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit + What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five + weeks old as yet? + +HOLOFERNES Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull. + +DULL What is Dictynna? + +SIR NATHANIEL A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon. + +HOLOFERNES The moon was a month old when Adam was no more, + And raught not to five weeks when he came to + five-score. + The allusion holds in the exchange. + +DULL 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange. + +HOLOFERNES God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds + in the exchange. + +DULL And I say, the pollusion holds in the exchange; for + the moon is never but a month old: and I say beside + that, 'twas a pricket that the princess killed. + +HOLOFERNES Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph + on the death of the deer? And, to humour the + ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed a pricket. + +SIR NATHANIEL Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it shall + please you to abrogate scurrility. + +HOLOFERNES I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility. + The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty + pleasing pricket; + Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made + sore with shooting. + The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel jumps + from thicket; + Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a-hooting. + If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores + one sorel. + Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L. + +SIR NATHANIEL A rare talent! + +DULL [Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws + him with a talent. + +HOLOFERNES This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a + foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, + shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, + revolutions: these are begot in the ventricle of + memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and + delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. But the + gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am + thankful for it. + +SIR NATHANIEL Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may my + parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by + you, and their daughters profit very greatly under + you: you are a good member of the commonwealth. + +HOLOFERNES Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall + want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, + I will put it to them: but vir sapit qui pauca + loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us. + + [Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD] + +JAQUENETTA God give you good morrow, master Parson. + +HOLOFERNES Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if one should be + pierced, which is the one? + +COSTARD Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead. + +HOLOFERNES Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a + tuft of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough + for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well. + +JAQUENETTA Good master Parson, be so good as read me this + letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent me + from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it. + +HOLOFERNES Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra + Ruminat,--and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I + may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice; + Venetia, Venetia, + Chi non ti vede non ti pretia. + Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who understandeth thee + not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa. + Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather, + as Horace says in his--What, my soul, verses? + +SIR NATHANIEL Ay, sir, and very learned. + +HOLOFERNES Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine. + +SIR NATHANIEL [Reads] + + If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? + Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd! + Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove: + Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like + osiers bow'd. + Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes, + Where all those pleasures live that art would + comprehend: + If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; + Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, + All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; + Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire: + Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder, + Which not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. + Celestial as thou art, O, pardon, love, this wrong, + That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. + +HOLOFERNES You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the + accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are + only numbers ratified; but, for the elegancy, + facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. + Ovidius Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso, + but for smelling out the odouriferous flowers of + fancy, the jerks of invention? Imitari is nothing: + so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, + the tired horse his rider. But, damosella virgin, + was this directed to you? + +JAQUENETTA Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange + queen's lords. + +HOLOFERNES I will overglance the superscript: 'To the + snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady + Rosaline.' I will look again on the intellect of + the letter, for the nomination of the party writing + to the person written unto: 'Your ladyship's in all + desired employment, BIRON.' Sir Nathaniel, this + Biron is one of the votaries with the king; and here + he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the stranger + queen's, which accidentally, or by the way of + progression, hath miscarried. Trip and go, my + sweet; deliver this paper into the royal hand of the + king: it may concern much. Stay not thy + compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu. + +JAQUENETTA Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life! + +COSTARD Have with thee, my girl. + + [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA] + +SIR NATHANIEL Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very + religiously; and, as a certain father saith,-- + +HOLOFERNES Sir tell me not of the father; I do fear colourable + colours. But to return to the verses: did they + please you, Sir Nathaniel? + +SIR NATHANIEL Marvellous well for the pen. + +HOLOFERNES I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil + of mine; where, if, before repast, it shall please + you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my + privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid + child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I + will prove those verses to be very unlearned, + neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I + beseech your society. + +SIR NATHANIEL And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is + the happiness of life. + +HOLOFERNES And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it. + + [To DULL] + + Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not + say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at + their game, and we will to our recreation. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Enter BIRON, with a paper] + +BIRON The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing + myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in + a pitch,--pitch that defiles: defile! a foul + word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say + the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well + proved, wit! By the Lord, this love is as mad as + Ajax: it kills sheep; it kills me, I a sheep: + well proved again o' my side! I will not love: if + I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not. O, but her + eye,--by this light, but for her eye, I would not + love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing + in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By + heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme + and to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, + and here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o' my + sonnets already: the clown bore it, the fool sent + it, and the lady hath it: sweet clown, sweeter + fool, sweetest lady! By the world, I would not care + a pin, if the other three were in. Here comes one + with a paper: God give him grace to groan! + + [Stands aside] + + [Enter FERDINAND, with a paper] + +FERDINAND Ay me! + +BIRON [Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid: + thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the + left pap. In faith, secrets! + +FERDINAND [Reads] + + So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not + To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, + As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote + The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows: + Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright + Through the transparent bosom of the deep, + As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; + Thou shinest in every tear that I do weep: + No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; + So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. + Do but behold the tears that swell in me, + And they thy glory through my grief will show: + But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep + My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. + O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel, + No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. + How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper: + Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here? + + [Steps aside] + + What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. + +BIRON Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear! + + [Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper] + +LONGAVILLE Ay me, I am forsworn! + +BIRON Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers. + +FERDINAND In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame! + +BIRON One drunkard loves another of the name. + +LONGAVILLE Am I the first that have been perjured so? + +BIRON I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know: + Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, + The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity. + +LONGAVILLE I fear these stubborn lines lack power to move: + O sweet Maria, empress of my love! + These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. + +BIRON O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: + Disfigure not his slop. + +LONGAVILLE This same shall go. + + [Reads] + + Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, + 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, + Persuade my heart to this false perjury? + Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. + A woman I forswore; but I will prove, + Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: + My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; + Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. + Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: + Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, + Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is: + If broken then, it is no fault of mine: + If by me broke, what fool is not so wise + To lose an oath to win a paradise? + +BIRON This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity, + A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. + God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way. + +LONGAVILLE By whom shall I send this?--Company! stay. + + [Steps aside] + +BIRON All hid, all hid; an old infant play. + Like a demigod here sit I in the sky. + And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye. + More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish! + + [Enter DUMAIN, with a paper] + + Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish! + +DUMAIN O most divine Kate! + +BIRON O most profane coxcomb! + +DUMAIN By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! + +BIRON By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie. + +DUMAIN Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted. + +BIRON An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. + +DUMAIN As upright as the cedar. + +BIRON Stoop, I say; + Her shoulder is with child. + +DUMAIN As fair as day. + +BIRON Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. + +DUMAIN O that I had my wish! + +LONGAVILLE And I had mine! + +FERDINAND And I mine too, good Lord! + +BIRON Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word? + +DUMAIN I would forget her; but a fever she + Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be. + +BIRON A fever in your blood! why, then incision + Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision! + +DUMAIN Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. + +BIRON Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. + +DUMAIN [Reads] + + On a day--alack the day!-- + Love, whose month is ever May, + Spied a blossom passing fair + Playing in the wanton air: + Through the velvet leaves the wind, + All unseen, can passage find; + That the lover, sick to death, + Wish himself the heaven's breath. + Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; + Air, would I might triumph so! + But, alack, my hand is sworn + Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn; + Vow, alack, for youth unmeet, + Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! + Do not call it sin in me, + That I am forsworn for thee; + Thou for whom Jove would swear + Juno but an Ethiope were; + And deny himself for Jove, + Turning mortal for thy love. + This will I send, and something else more plain, + That shall express my true love's fasting pain. + O, would the king, Biron, and Longaville, + Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill, + Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note; + For none offend where all alike do dote. + +LONGAVILLE [Advancing] Dumain, thy love is far from charity. + You may look pale, but I should blush, I know, + To be o'erheard and taken napping so. + +FERDINAND [Advancing] Come, sir, you blush; as his your case is such; + You chide at him, offending twice as much; + You do not love Maria; Longaville + Did never sonnet for her sake compile, + Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart + His loving bosom to keep down his heart. + I have been closely shrouded in this bush + And mark'd you both and for you both did blush: + I heard your guilty rhymes, observed your fashion, + Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion: + Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries; + One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes: + + [To LONGAVILLE] + + You would for paradise break faith, and troth; + + [To DUMAIN] + + And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath. + What will Biron say when that he shall hear + Faith so infringed, which such zeal did swear? + How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit! + How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it! + For all the wealth that ever I did see, + I would not have him know so much by me. + +BIRON Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy. + + [Advancing] + + Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me! + Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove + These worms for loving, that art most in love? + Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears + There is no certain princess that appears; + You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing; + Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting! + But are you not ashamed? nay, are you not, + All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? + You found his mote; the king your mote did see; + But I a beam do find in each of three. + O, what a scene of foolery have I seen, + Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow and of teen! + O me, with what strict patience have I sat, + To see a king transformed to a gnat! + To see great Hercules whipping a gig, + And profound Solomon to tune a jig, + And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys, + And critic Timon laugh at idle toys! + Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain? + And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? + And where my liege's? all about the breast: + A caudle, ho! + +FERDINAND Too bitter is thy jest. + Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view? + +BIRON Not you to me, but I betray'd by you: + I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin + To break the vow I am engaged in; + I am betray'd, by keeping company + With men like men of inconstancy. + When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? + Or groan for love? or spend a minute's time + In pruning me? When shall you hear that I + Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, + A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist, + A leg, a limb? + +FERDINAND Soft! whither away so fast? + A true man or a thief that gallops so? + +BIRON I post from love: good lover, let me go. + + [Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD] + +JAQUENETTA God bless the king! + +FERDINAND What present hast thou there? + +COSTARD Some certain treason. + +FERDINAND What makes treason here? + +COSTARD Nay, it makes nothing, sir. + +FERDINAND If it mar nothing neither, + The treason and you go in peace away together. + +JAQUENETTA I beseech your grace, let this letter be read: + Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. + +FERDINAND Biron, read it over. + + [Giving him the paper] + + Where hadst thou it? + +JAQUENETTA Of Costard. + +FERDINAND Where hadst thou it? + +COSTARD Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. + + [BIRON tears the letter] + +FERDINAND How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it? + +BIRON A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it. + +LONGAVILLE It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it. + +DUMAIN It is Biron's writing, and here is his name. + + [Gathering up the pieces] + +BIRON [To COSTARD] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were + born to do me shame. + Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess. + +FERDINAND What? + +BIRON That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess: + He, he, and you, and you, my liege, and I, + Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. + O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more. + +DUMAIN Now the number is even. + +BIRON True, true; we are four. + Will these turtles be gone? + +FERDINAND Hence, sirs; away! + +COSTARD Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay. + + [Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA] + +BIRON Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! + As true we are as flesh and blood can be: + The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; + Young blood doth not obey an old decree: + We cannot cross the cause why we were born; + Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. + +FERDINAND What, did these rent lines show some love of thine? + +BIRON Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, + That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, + At the first opening of the gorgeous east, + Bows not his vassal head and strucken blind + Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? + What peremptory eagle-sighted eye + Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, + That is not blinded by her majesty? + +FERDINAND What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now? + My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; + She an attending star, scarce seen a light. + +BIRON My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron: + O, but for my love, day would turn to night! + Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty + Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, + Where several worthies make one dignity, + Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. + Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,-- + Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not: + To things of sale a seller's praise belongs, + She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. + A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, + Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye: + Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, + And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy: + O, 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine. + +FERDINAND By heaven, thy love is black as ebony. + +BIRON Is ebony like her? O wood divine! + A wife of such wood were felicity. + O, who can give an oath? where is a book? + That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack, + If that she learn not of her eye to look: + No face is fair that is not full so black. + +FERDINAND O paradox! Black is the badge of hell, + The hue of dungeons and the suit of night; + And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. + +BIRON Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light. + O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd, + It mourns that painting and usurping hair + Should ravish doters with a false aspect; + And therefore is she born to make black fair. + Her favour turns the fashion of the days, + For native blood is counted painting now; + And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise, + Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. + +DUMAIN To look like her are chimney-sweepers black. + +LONGAVILLE And since her time are colliers counted bright. + +FERDINAND And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack. + +DUMAIN Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light. + +BIRON Your mistresses dare never come in rain, + For fear their colours should be wash'd away. + +FERDINAND 'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain, + I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. + +BIRON I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here. + +FERDINAND No devil will fright thee then so much as she. + +DUMAIN I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear. + +LONGAVILLE Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face see. + +BIRON O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes, + Her feet were much too dainty for such tread! + +DUMAIN O, vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies + The street should see as she walk'd overhead. + +FERDINAND But what of this? are we not all in love? + +BIRON Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn. + +FERDINAND Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove + Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn. + +DUMAIN Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil. + +LONGAVILLE O, some authority how to proceed; + Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil. + +DUMAIN Some salve for perjury. + +BIRON 'Tis more than need. + Have at you, then, affection's men at arms. + Consider what you first did swear unto, + To fast, to study, and to see no woman; + Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth. + Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young; + And abstinence engenders maladies. + And where that you have vow'd to study, lords, + In that each of you have forsworn his book, + Can you still dream and pore and thereon look? + For when would you, my lord, or you, or you, + Have found the ground of study's excellence + Without the beauty of a woman's face? + [From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; + They are the ground, the books, the academes + From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire] + Why, universal plodding poisons up + The nimble spirits in the arteries, + As motion and long-during action tires + The sinewy vigour of the traveller. + Now, for not looking on a woman's face, + You have in that forsworn the use of eyes + And study too, the causer of your vow; + For where is any author in the world + Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? + Learning is but an adjunct to ourself + And where we are our learning likewise is: + Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes, + Do we not likewise see our learning there? + O, we have made a vow to study, lords, + And in that vow we have forsworn our books. + For when would you, my liege, or you, or you, + In leaden contemplation have found out + Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes + Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with? + Other slow arts entirely keep the brain; + And therefore, finding barren practisers, + Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: + But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, + Lives not alone immured in the brain; + But, with the motion of all elements, + Courses as swift as thought in every power, + And gives to every power a double power, + Above their functions and their offices. + It adds a precious seeing to the eye; + A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; + A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, + When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd: + Love's feeling is more soft and sensible + Than are the tender horns of cockl'd snails; + Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: + For valour, is not Love a Hercules, + Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? + Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical + As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair: + And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods + Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. + Never durst poet touch a pen to write + Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; + O, then his lines would ravish savage ears + And plant in tyrants mild humility. + From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: + They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; + They are the books, the arts, the academes, + That show, contain and nourish all the world: + Else none at all in ought proves excellent. + Then fools you were these women to forswear, + Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools. + For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love, + Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men, + Or for men's sake, the authors of these women, + Or women's sake, by whom we men are men, + Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, + Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. + It is religion to be thus forsworn, + For charity itself fulfills the law, + And who can sever love from charity? + +FERDINAND Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field! + +BIRON Advance your standards, and upon them, lords; + Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advised, + In conflict that you get the sun of them. + +LONGAVILLE Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by: + Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France? + +FERDINAND And win them too: therefore let us devise + Some entertainment for them in their tents. + +BIRON First, from the park let us conduct them thither; + Then homeward every man attach the hand + Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon + We will with some strange pastime solace them, + Such as the shortness of the time can shape; + For revels, dances, masks and merry hours + Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers. + +FERDINAND Away, away! no time shall be omitted + That will betime, and may by us be fitted. + +BIRON Allons! allons! Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn; + And justice always whirls in equal measure: + Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn; + If so, our copper buys no better treasure. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The same. + + + [Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL] + +HOLOFERNES Satis quod sufficit. + +SIR NATHANIEL I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner + have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without + scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without + impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with- + out heresy. I did converse this quondam day with + a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nomi- + nated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado. + +HOLOFERNES Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his + discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye + ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general + behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is + too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it + were, too peregrinate, as I may call it. + +SIR NATHANIEL A most singular and choice epithet. + + [Draws out his table-book] + +HOLOFERNES He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer + than the staple of his argument. I abhor such + fanatical phantasimes, such insociable and + point-devise companions; such rackers of + orthography, as to speak dout, fine, when he should + say doubt; det, when he should pronounce debt,--d, + e, b, t, not d, e, t: he clepeth a calf, cauf; + half, hauf; neighbour vocatur nebor; neigh + abbreviated ne. This is abhominable,--which he + would call abbominable: it insinuateth me of + insanie: anne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic. + +SIR NATHANIEL Laus Deo, bene intelligo. + +HOLOFERNES Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratch'd, + 'twill serve. + +SIR NATHANIEL Videsne quis venit? + +HOLOFERNES Video, et gaudeo. + + [Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Chirrah! + + [To MOTH] + +HOLOFERNES Quare chirrah, not sirrah? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Men of peace, well encountered. + +HOLOFERNES Most military sir, salutation. + +MOTH [Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast + of languages, and stolen the scraps. + +COSTARD O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words. + I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word; + for thou art not so long by the head as + honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier + swallowed than a flap-dragon. + +MOTH Peace! the peal begins. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO [To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lettered? + +MOTH Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a, + b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head? + +HOLOFERNES Ba, pueritia, with a horn added. + +MOTH Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning. + +HOLOFERNES Quis, quis, thou consonant? + +MOTH The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or + the fifth, if I. + +HOLOFERNES I will repeat them,--a, e, i,-- + +MOTH The sheep: the other two concludes it,--o, u. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet + touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and + home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit! + +MOTH Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old. + +HOLOFERNES What is the figure? what is the figure? + +MOTH Horns. + +HOLOFERNES Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig. + +MOTH Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about + your infamy circum circa,--a gig of a cuckold's horn. + +COSTARD An I had but one penny in the world, thou shouldst + have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the very + remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny + purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an + the heavens were so pleased that thou wert but my + bastard, what a joyful father wouldst thou make me! + Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' + ends, as they say. + +HOLOFERNES O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the + barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the + charge-house on the top of the mountain? + +HOLOFERNES Or mons, the hill. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain. + +HOLOFERNES I do, sans question. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and + affection to congratulate the princess at her + pavilion in the posteriors of this day, which the + rude multitude call the afternoon. + +HOLOFERNES The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is + liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon: + the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do + assure you, sir, I do assure. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar, + I do assure ye, very good friend: for what is + inward between us, let it pass. I do beseech thee, + remember thy courtesy; I beseech thee, apparel thy + head: and among other important and most serious + designs, and of great import indeed, too, but let + that pass: for I must tell thee, it will please his + grace, by the world, sometime to lean upon my poor + shoulder, and with his royal finger, thus, dally + with my excrement, with my mustachio; but, sweet + heart, let that pass. By the world, I recount no + fable: some certain special honours it pleaseth his + greatness to impart to Armado, a soldier, a man of + travel, that hath seen the world; but let that pass. + The very all of all is,--but, sweet heart, I do + implore secrecy,--that the king would have me + present the princess, sweet chuck, with some + delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or + antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the + curate and your sweet self are good at such + eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it + were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to + crave your assistance. + +HOLOFERNES Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies. + Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some + show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by + our assistants, at the king's command, and this most + gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before + the princess; I say none so fit as to present the + Nine Worthies. + +SIR NATHANIEL Where will you find men worthy enough to present them? + +HOLOFERNES Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman, + Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great + limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the + page, Hercules,-- + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for + that Worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club. + +HOLOFERNES Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules in + minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling a + snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose. + +MOTH An excellent device! so, if any of the audience + hiss, you may cry 'Well done, Hercules! now thou + crushest the snake!' that is the way to make an + offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO For the rest of the Worthies?-- + +HOLOFERNES I will play three myself. + +MOTH Thrice-worthy gentleman! + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Shall I tell you a thing? + +HOLOFERNES We attend. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I + beseech you, follow. + +HOLOFERNES Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while. + +DULL Nor understood none neither, sir. + +HOLOFERNES Allons! we will employ thee. + +DULL I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play + On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay. + +HOLOFERNES Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + LOVE'S LABOURS LOST + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA] + +PRINCESS Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart, + If fairings come thus plentifully in: + A lady wall'd about with diamonds! + Look you what I have from the loving king. + +ROSALINE Madame, came nothing else along with that? + +PRINCESS Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme + As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, + Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all, + That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. + +ROSALINE That was the way to make his godhead wax, + For he hath been five thousand years a boy. + +KATHARINE Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too. + +ROSALINE You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister. + +KATHARINE He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; + And so she died: had she been light, like you, + Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, + She might ha' been a grandam ere she died: + And so may you; for a light heart lives long. + +ROSALINE What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word? + +KATHARINE A light condition in a beauty dark. + +ROSALINE We need more light to find your meaning out. + +KATHARINE You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff; + Therefore I'll darkly end the argument. + +ROSALINE Look what you do, you do it still i' the dark. + +KATHARINE So do not you, for you are a light wench. + +ROSALINE Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light. + +KATHARINE You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me. + +ROSALINE Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.' + +PRINCESS Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd. + But Rosaline, you have a favour too: + Who sent it? and what is it? + +ROSALINE I would you knew: + An if my face were but as fair as yours, + My favour were as great; be witness this. + Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron: + The numbers true; and, were the numbering too, + I were the fairest goddess on the ground: + I am compared to twenty thousand fairs. + O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter! + +PRINCESS Any thing like? + +ROSALINE Much in the letters; nothing in the praise. + +PRINCESS Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion. + +KATHARINE Fair as a text B in a copy-book. + +ROSALINE 'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor, + My red dominical, my golden letter: + O, that your face were not so full of O's! + +KATHARINE A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows. + +PRINCESS But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain? + +KATHARINE Madam, this glove. + +PRINCESS Did he not send you twain? + +KATHARINE Yes, madam, and moreover + Some thousand verses of a faithful lover, + A huge translation of hypocrisy, + Vilely compiled, profound simplicity. + +MARIA This and these pearls to me sent Longaville: + The letter is too long by half a mile. + +PRINCESS I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart + The chain were longer and the letter short? + +MARIA Ay, or I would these hands might never part. + +PRINCESS We are wise girls to mock our lovers so. + +ROSALINE They are worse fools to purchase mocking so. + That same Biron I'll torture ere I go: + O that I knew he were but in by the week! + How I would make him fawn and beg and seek + And wait the season and observe the times + And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes + And shape his service wholly to my hests + And make him proud to make me proud that jests! + So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state + That he should be my fool and I his fate. + +PRINCESS None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd, + As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd, + Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school + And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. + +ROSALINE The blood of youth burns not with such excess + As gravity's revolt to wantonness. + +MARIA Folly in fools bears not so strong a note + As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote; + Since all the power thereof it doth apply + To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity. + +PRINCESS Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face. + + [Enter BOYET] + +BOYET O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace? + +PRINCESS Thy news Boyet? + +BOYET Prepare, madam, prepare! + Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are + Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised, + Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised: + Muster your wits; stand in your own defence; + Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence. + +PRINCESS Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they + That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say. + +BOYET Under the cool shade of a sycamore + I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour; + When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest, + Toward that shade I might behold addrest + The king and his companions: warily + I stole into a neighbour thicket by, + And overheard what you shall overhear, + That, by and by, disguised they will be here. + Their herald is a pretty knavish page, + That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage: + Action and accent did they teach him there; + 'Thus must thou speak,' and 'thus thy body bear:' + And ever and anon they made a doubt + Presence majestical would put him out, + 'For,' quoth the king, 'an angel shalt thou see; + Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.' + The boy replied, 'An angel is not evil; + I should have fear'd her had she been a devil.' + With that, all laugh'd and clapp'd him on the shoulder, + Making the bold wag by their praises bolder: + One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd and swore + A better speech was never spoke before; + Another, with his finger and his thumb, + Cried, 'Via! we will do't, come what will come;' + The third he caper'd, and cried, 'All goes well;' + The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell. + With that, they all did tumble on the ground, + With such a zealous laughter, so profound, + That in this spleen ridiculous appears, + To cheque their folly, passion's solemn tears. + +PRINCESS But what, but what, come they to visit us? + +BOYET They do, they do: and are apparell'd thus. + Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess. + Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance; + And every one his love-feat will advance + Unto his several mistress, which they'll know + By favours several which they did bestow. + +PRINCESS And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd; + For, ladies, we shall every one be mask'd; + And not a man of them shall have the grace, + Despite of suit, to see a lady's face. + Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear, + And then the king will court thee for his dear; + Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine, + So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. + And change your favours too; so shall your loves + Woo contrary, deceived by these removes. + +ROSALINE Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight. + +KATHARINE But in this changing what is your intent? + +PRINCESS The effect of my intent is to cross theirs: + They do it but in mocking merriment; + And mock for mock is only my intent. + Their several counsels they unbosom shall + To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal + Upon the next occasion that we meet, + With visages displayed, to talk and greet. + +ROSALINE But shall we dance, if they desire to't? + +PRINCESS No, to the death, we will not move a foot; + Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace, + But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face. + +BOYET Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart, + And quite divorce his memory from his part. + +PRINCESS Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt + The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out + There's no such sport as sport by sport o'erthrown, + To make theirs ours and ours none but our own: + So shall we stay, mocking intended game, + And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame. + + [Trumpets sound within] + +BOYET The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the maskers come. + + [The Ladies mask] + + [Enter Blackamoors with music; MOTH; FERDINAND, + BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits, + and masked] + +MOTH All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!-- + +BOYET Beauties no richer than rich taffeta. + +MOTH A holy parcel of the fairest dames. + + [The Ladies turn their backs to him] + + That ever turn'd their--backs--to mortal views! + +BIRON [Aside to MOTH] Their eyes, villain, their eyes! + +MOTH That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!--Out-- + +BOYET True; out indeed. + +MOTH Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe + Not to behold-- + +BIRON [Aside to MOTH] Once to behold, rogue. + +MOTH Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes, + --with your sun-beamed eyes-- + +BOYET They will not answer to that epithet; + You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.' + +MOTH They do not mark me, and that brings me out. + +BIRON Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! + + [Exit MOTH] + +ROSALINE What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet: + If they do speak our language, 'tis our will: + That some plain man recount their purposes + Know what they would. + +BOYET What would you with the princess? + +BIRON Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. + +ROSALINE What would they, say they? + +BOYET Nothing but peace and gentle visitation. + +ROSALINE Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone. + +BOYET She says, you have it, and you may be gone. + +FERDINAND Say to her, we have measured many miles + To tread a measure with her on this grass. + +BOYET They say, that they have measured many a mile + To tread a measure with you on this grass. + +ROSALINE It is not so. Ask them how many inches + Is in one mile: if they have measured many, + The measure then of one is easily told. + +BOYET If to come hither you have measured miles, + And many miles, the princess bids you tell + How many inches doth fill up one mile. + +BIRON Tell her, we measure them by weary steps. + +BOYET She hears herself. + +ROSALINE How many weary steps, + Of many weary miles you have o'ergone, + Are number'd in the travel of one mile? + +BIRON We number nothing that we spend for you: + Our duty is so rich, so infinite, + That we may do it still without accompt. + Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, + That we, like savages, may worship it. + +ROSALINE My face is but a moon, and clouded too. + +FERDINAND Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do! + Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine, + Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne. + +ROSALINE O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; + Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. + +FERDINAND Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change. + Thou bid'st me beg: this begging is not strange. + +ROSALINE Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. + + [Music plays] + + Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon. + +FERDINAND Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged? + +ROSALINE You took the moon at full, but now she's changed. + +FERDINAND Yet still she is the moon, and I the man. + The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it. + +ROSALINE Our ears vouchsafe it. + +FERDINAND But your legs should do it. + +ROSALINE Since you are strangers and come here by chance, + We'll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance. + +FERDINAND Why take we hands, then? + +ROSALINE Only to part friends: + Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends. + +FERDINAND More measure of this measure; be not nice. + +ROSALINE We can afford no more at such a price. + +FERDINAND Prize you yourselves: what buys your company? + +ROSALINE Your absence only. + +FERDINAND That can never be. + +ROSALINE Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu; + Twice to your visor, and half once to you. + +FERDINAND If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat. + +ROSALINE In private, then. + +FERDINAND I am best pleased with that. + + [They converse apart] + +BIRON White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee. + +PRINCESS Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three. + +BIRON Nay then, two treys, and if you grow so nice, + Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice! + There's half-a-dozen sweets. + +PRINCESS Seventh sweet, adieu: + Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you. + +BIRON One word in secret. + +PRINCESS Let it not be sweet. + +BIRON Thou grievest my gall. + +PRINCESS Gall! bitter. + +BIRON Therefore meet. + + [They converse apart] + +DUMAIN Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word? + +MARIA Name it. + +DUMAIN Fair lady,-- + +MARIA Say you so? Fair lord,-- + Take that for your fair lady. + +DUMAIN Please it you, + As much in private, and I'll bid adieu. + + [They converse apart] + +KATHARINE What, was your vizard made without a tongue? + +LONGAVILLE I know the reason, lady, why you ask. + +KATHARINE O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long. + +LONGAVILLE You have a double tongue within your mask, + And would afford my speechless vizard half. + +KATHARINE Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf? + +LONGAVILLE A calf, fair lady! + +KATHARINE No, a fair lord calf. + +LONGAVILLE Let's part the word. + +KATHARINE No, I'll not be your half + Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. + +LONGAVILLE Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks! + Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so. + +KATHARINE Then die a calf, before your horns do grow. + +LONGAVILLE One word in private with you, ere I die. + +KATHARINE Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry. + + [They converse apart] + +BOYET The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen + As is the razor's edge invisible, + Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen, + Above the sense of sense; so sensible + Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings + Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things. + +ROSALINE Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off. + +BIRON By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff! + +FERDINAND Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits. + +PRINCESS Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. + + [Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors] + + Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at? + +BOYET Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out. + +ROSALINE Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat. + +PRINCESS O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! + Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight? + Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces? + This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. + +ROSALINE O, they were all in lamentable cases! + The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. + +PRINCESS Biron did swear himself out of all suit. + +MARIA Dumain was at my service, and his sword: + No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute. + +KATHARINE Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart; + And trow you what he called me? + +PRINCESS Qualm, perhaps. + +KATHARINE Yes, in good faith. + +PRINCESS Go, sickness as thou art! + +ROSALINE Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps. + But will you hear? the king is my love sworn. + +PRINCESS And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me. + +KATHARINE And Longaville was for my service born. + +MARIA Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree. + +BOYET Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear: + Immediately they will again be here + In their own shapes; for it can never be + They will digest this harsh indignity. + +PRINCESS Will they return? + +BOYET They will, they will, God knows, + And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: + Therefore change favours; and, when they repair, + Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. + +PRINCESS How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. + +BOYET Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud; + Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, + Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. + +PRINCESS Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, + If they return in their own shapes to woo? + +ROSALINE Good madam, if by me you'll be advised, + Let's, mock them still, as well known as disguised: + Let us complain to them what fools were here, + Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear; + And wonder what they were and to what end + Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn'd + And their rough carriage so ridiculous, + Should be presented at our tent to us. + +BOYET Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand. + +PRINCESS Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land. + + [Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA] + + [Re-enter FERDINAND, BIRON, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, + in their proper habits] + +FERDINAND Fair sir, God save you! Where's the princess? + +BOYET Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty + Command me any service to her thither? + +FERDINAND That she vouchsafe me audience for one word. + +BOYET I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. + + [Exit] + +BIRON This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease, + And utters it again when God doth please: + He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares + At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs; + And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, + Have not the grace to grace it with such show. + This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; + Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve; + A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he + That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy; + This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, + That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice + In honourable terms: nay, he can sing + A mean most meanly; and in ushering + Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet; + The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet: + This is the flower that smiles on every one, + To show his teeth as white as whale's bone; + And consciences, that will not die in debt, + Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. + +FERDINAND A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, + That put Armado's page out of his part! + +BIRON See where it comes! Behavior, what wert thou + Till this madman show'd thee? and what art thou now? + + [Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET, ROSALINE, + MARIA, and KATHARINE] + +FERDINAND All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! + +PRINCESS 'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive. + +FERDINAND Construe my speeches better, if you may. + +PRINCESS Then wish me better; I will give you leave. + +FERDINAND We came to visit you, and purpose now + To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then. + +PRINCESS This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow: + Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men. + +FERDINAND Rebuke me not for that which you provoke: + The virtue of your eye must break my oath. + +PRINCESS You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke; + For virtue's office never breaks men's troth. + Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure + As the unsullied lily, I protest, + A world of torments though I should endure, + I would not yield to be your house's guest; + So much I hate a breaking cause to be + Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. + +FERDINAND O, you have lived in desolation here, + Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. + +PRINCESS Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear; + We have had pastimes here and pleasant game: + A mess of Russians left us but of late. + +FERDINAND How, madam! Russians! + +PRINCESS Ay, in truth, my lord; + Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state. + +ROSALINE Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord: + My lady, to the manner of the days, + In courtesy gives undeserving praise. + We four indeed confronted were with four + In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour, + And talk'd apace; and in that hour, my lord, + They did not bless us with one happy word. + I dare not call them fools; but this I think, + When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. + +BIRON This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet, + Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet, + With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye, + By light we lose light: your capacity + Is of that nature that to your huge store + Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor. + +ROSALINE This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,-- + +BIRON I am a fool, and full of poverty. + +ROSALINE But that you take what doth to you belong, + It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. + +BIRON O, I am yours, and all that I possess! + +ROSALINE All the fool mine? + +BIRON I cannot give you less. + +ROSALINE Which of the vizards was it that you wore? + +BIRON Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this? + +ROSALINE There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case + That hid the worse and show'd the better face. + +FERDINAND We are descried; they'll mock us now downright. + +DUMAIN Let us confess and turn it to a jest. + +PRINCESS Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad? + +ROSALINE Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale? + Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. + +BIRON Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury. + Can any face of brass hold longer out? + Here stand I lady, dart thy skill at me; + Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout; + Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance; + Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit; + And I will wish thee never more to dance, + Nor never more in Russian habit wait. + O, never will I trust to speeches penn'd, + Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue, + Nor never come in vizard to my friend, + Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song! + Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, + Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation, + Figures pedantical; these summer-flies + Have blown me full of maggot ostentation: + I do forswear them; and I here protest, + By this white glove;--how white the hand, God knows!-- + Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd + In russet yeas and honest kersey noes: + And, to begin, wench,--so God help me, la!-- + My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. + +ROSALINE Sans sans, I pray you. + +BIRON Yet I have a trick + Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick; + I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see: + Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' on those three; + They are infected; in their hearts it lies; + They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes; + These lords are visited; you are not free, + For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. + +PRINCESS No, they are free that gave these tokens to us. + +BIRON Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us. + +ROSALINE It is not so; for how can this be true, + That you stand forfeit, being those that sue? + +BIRON Peace! for I will not have to do with you. + +ROSALINE Nor shall not, if I do as I intend. + +BIRON Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end. + +FERDINAND Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression + Some fair excuse. + +PRINCESS The fairest is confession. + Were not you here but even now disguised? + +FERDINAND Madam, I was. + +PRINCESS And were you well advised? + +FERDINAND I was, fair madam. + +PRINCESS When you then were here, + What did you whisper in your lady's ear? + +FERDINAND That more than all the world I did respect her. + +PRINCESS When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. + +FERDINAND Upon mine honour, no. + +PRINCESS Peace, peace! forbear: + Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear. + +FERDINAND Despise me, when I break this oath of mine. + +PRINCESS I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline, + What did the Russian whisper in your ear? + +ROSALINE Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear + As precious eyesight, and did value me + Above this world; adding thereto moreover + That he would wed me, or else die my lover. + +PRINCESS God give thee joy of him! the noble lord + Most honourably doth unhold his word. + +FERDINAND What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth, + I never swore this lady such an oath. + +ROSALINE By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain, + You gave me this: but take it, sir, again. + +FERDINAND My faith and this the princess I did give: + I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. + +PRINCESS Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; + And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear. + What, will you have me, or your pearl again? + +BIRON Neither of either; I remit both twain. + I see the trick on't: here was a consent, + Knowing aforehand of our merriment, + To dash it like a Christmas comedy: + Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany, + Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick, + That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick + To make my lady laugh when she's disposed, + Told our intents before; which once disclosed, + The ladies did change favours: and then we, + Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she. + Now, to our perjury to add more terror, + We are again forsworn, in will and error. + Much upon this it is: and might not you + + [To BOYET] + + Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue? + Do not you know my lady's foot by the squier, + And laugh upon the apple of her eye? + And stand between her back, sir, and the fire, + Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? + You put our page out: go, you are allow'd; + Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud. + You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye + Wounds like a leaden sword. + +BOYET Full merrily + Hath this brave manage, this career, been run. + +BIRON Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done. + + [Enter COSTARD] + + Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray. + +COSTARD O Lord, sir, they would know + Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no. + +BIRON What, are there but three? + +COSTARD No, sir; but it is vara fine, + For every one pursents three. + +BIRON And three times thrice is nine. + +COSTARD Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so. + You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir we know + what we know: + I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,-- + +BIRON Is not nine. + +COSTARD Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount. + +BIRON By Jove, I always took three threes for nine. + +COSTARD O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living + by reckoning, sir. + +BIRON How much is it? + +COSTARD O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, + sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine + own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man + in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir. + +BIRON Art thou one of the Worthies? + +COSTARD It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the + Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of + the Worthy, but I am to stand for him. + +BIRON Go, bid them prepare. + +COSTARD We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take + some care. + + [Exit] + +FERDINAND Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach. + +BIRON We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy + To have one show worse than the king's and his company. + +FERDINAND I say they shall not come. + +PRINCESS Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now: + That sport best pleases that doth least know how: + Where zeal strives to content, and the contents + Dies in the zeal of that which it presents: + Their form confounded makes most form in mirth, + When great things labouring perish in their birth. + +BIRON A right description of our sport, my lord. + + [Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal + sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. + + [Converses apart with FERDINAND, and delivers him a paper] + +PRINCESS Doth this man serve God? + +BIRON Why ask you? + +PRINCESS He speaks not like a man of God's making. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, + I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding + fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we + will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. + I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! + + [Exit] + +FERDINAND Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He + presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the + Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, + Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus: And if + these four Worthies in their first show thrive, + These four will change habits, and present the other five. + +BIRON There is five in the first show. + +FERDINAND You are deceived; 'tis not so. + +BIRON The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool + and the boy:-- + Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again + Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein. + +FERDINAND The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain. + + [Enter COSTARD, for Pompey] + +COSTARD I Pompey am,-- + +BOYET You lie, you are not he. + +COSTARD I Pompey am,-- + +BOYET With libbard's head on knee. + +BIRON Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends + with thee. + +COSTARD I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big-- + +DUMAIN The Great. + +COSTARD It is, 'Great,' sir:-- + Pompey surnamed the Great; + That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make + my foe to sweat: + And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance, + And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France, + If your ladyship would say, 'Thanks, Pompey,' I had done. + +PRINCESS Great thanks, great Pompey. + +COSTARD 'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I + made a little fault in 'Great.' + +BIRON My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy. + + [Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for Alexander] + +SIR NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world's + commander; + By east, west, north, and south, I spread my + conquering might: + My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,-- + +BOYET Your nose says, no, you are not for it stands too right. + +BIRON Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight. + +PRINCESS The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander. + +SIR NATHANIEL When in the world I lived, I was the world's + commander,-- + +BOYET Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander. + +BIRON Pompey the Great,-- + +COSTARD Your servant, and Costard. + +BIRON Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander. + +COSTARD [To SIR NATHANIEL] O, sir, you have overthrown + Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of + the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds + his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given + to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, + and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. + + [SIR NATHANIEL retires] + + There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an + honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a + marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good + bowler: but, for Alisander,--alas, you see how + 'tis,--a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies + a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort. + + [Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas; and MOTH, for Hercules] + +HOLOFERNES Great Hercules is presented by this imp, + Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canis; + And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp, + Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus. + Quoniam he seemeth in minority, + Ergo I come with this apology. + Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. + + [MOTH retires] + + Judas I am,-- + +DUMAIN A Judas! + +HOLOFERNES Not Iscariot, sir. + Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus. + +DUMAIN Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas. + +BIRON A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas? + +HOLOFERNES Judas I am,-- + +DUMAIN The more shame for you, Judas. + +HOLOFERNES What mean you, sir? + +BOYET To make Judas hang himself. + +HOLOFERNES Begin, sir; you are my elder. + +BIRON Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder. + +HOLOFERNES I will not be put out of countenance. + +BIRON Because thou hast no face. + +HOLOFERNES What is this? + +BOYET A cittern-head. + +DUMAIN The head of a bodkin. + +BIRON A Death's face in a ring. + +LONGAVILLE The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen. + +BOYET The pommel of Caesar's falchion. + +DUMAIN The carved-bone face on a flask. + +BIRON Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch. + +DUMAIN Ay, and in a brooch of lead. + +BIRON Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. + And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance. + +HOLOFERNES You have put me out of countenance. + +BIRON False; we have given thee faces. + +HOLOFERNES But you have out-faced them all. + +BIRON An thou wert a lion, we would do so. + +BOYET Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go. + And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay? + +DUMAIN For the latter end of his name. + +BIRON For the ass to the Jude; give it him:--Jud-as, away! + +HOLOFERNES This is not generous, not gentle, not humble. + +BOYET A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. + + [HOLOFERNES retires] + +PRINCESS Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited! + + [Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, for Hector] + +BIRON Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms. + +DUMAIN Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry. + +FERDINAND Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this. + +BOYET But is this Hector? + +FERDINAND I think Hector was not so clean-timbered. + +LONGAVILLE His leg is too big for Hector's. + +DUMAIN More calf, certain. + +BOYET No; he is best endued in the small. + +BIRON This cannot be Hector. + +DUMAIN He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, + Gave Hector a gift,-- + +DUMAIN A gilt nutmeg. + +BIRON A lemon. + +LONGAVILLE Stuck with cloves. + +DUMAIN No, cloven. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Peace!-- + The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty + Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; + A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea + From morn till night, out of his pavilion. + I am that flower,-- + +DUMAIN That mint. + +LONGAVILLE That columbine. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue. + +LONGAVILLE I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector. + +DUMAIN Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, + beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, + he was a man. But I will forward with my device. + + [To the PRINCESS] + + Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing. + +PRINCESS Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. + +BOYET [Aside to DUMAIN] Loves her by the foot,-- + +DUMAIN [Aside to BOYET] He may not by the yard. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,-- + +COSTARD The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she + is two months on her way. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO What meanest thou? + +COSTARD Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor + wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in + her belly already: tis yours. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt + die. + +COSTARD Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is + quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is dead by + him. + +DUMAIN Most rare Pompey! + +BOYET Renowned Pompey! + +BIRON Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! + Pompey the Huge! + +DUMAIN Hector trembles. + +BIRON Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them + on! stir them on! + +DUMAIN Hector will challenge him. + +BIRON Ay, if a' have no man's blood in's belly than will + sup a flea. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO By the north pole, I do challenge thee. + +COSTARD I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: + I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you, + let me borrow my arms again. + +DUMAIN Room for the incensed Worthies! + +COSTARD I'll do it in my shirt. + +DUMAIN Most resolute Pompey! + +MOTH Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you + not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean + you? You will lose your reputation. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat + in my shirt. + +DUMAIN You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet bloods, I both may and will. + +BIRON What reason have you for't? + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go + woolward for penance. + +BOYET True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of + linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but + a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next + his heart for a favour. + + [Enter MERCADE] + +MERCADE God save you, madam! + +PRINCESS Welcome, Mercade; + But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. + +MERCADE I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring + Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-- + +PRINCESS Dead, for my life! + +MERCADE Even so; my tale is told. + +BIRON Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have + seen the day of wrong through the little hole of + discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. + + [Exeunt Worthies] + +FERDINAND How fares your majesty? + +PRINCESS Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight. + +FERDINAND Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay. + +PRINCESS Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords, + For all your fair endeavors; and entreat, + Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe + In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide + The liberal opposition of our spirits, + If over-boldly we have borne ourselves + In the converse of breath: your gentleness + Was guilty of it. Farewell worthy lord! + A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue: + Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks + For my great suit so easily obtain'd. + +FERDINAND The extreme parts of time extremely forms + All causes to the purpose of his speed, + And often at his very loose decides + That which long process could not arbitrate: + And though the mourning brow of progeny + Forbid the smiling courtesy of love + The holy suit which fain it would convince, + Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, + Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it + From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost + Is not by much so wholesome-profitable + As to rejoice at friends but newly found. + +PRINCESS I understand you not: my griefs are double. + +BIRON Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief; + And by these badges understand the king. + For your fair sakes have we neglected time, + Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies, + Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours + Even to the opposed end of our intents: + And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,-- + As love is full of unbefitting strains, + All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, + Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, + Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, + Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll + To every varied object in his glance: + Which parti-coated presence of loose love + Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes, + Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities, + Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults, + Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies, + Our love being yours, the error that love makes + Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false, + By being once false for ever to be true + To those that make us both,--fair ladies, you: + And even that falsehood, in itself a sin, + Thus purifies itself and turns to grace. + +PRINCESS We have received your letters full of love; + Your favours, the ambassadors of love; + And, in our maiden council, rated them + At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy, + As bombast and as lining to the time: + But more devout than this in our respects + Have we not been; and therefore met your loves + In their own fashion, like a merriment. + +DUMAIN Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest. + +LONGAVILLE So did our looks. + +ROSALINE We did not quote them so. + +FERDINAND Now, at the latest minute of the hour, + Grant us your loves. + +PRINCESS A time, methinks, too short + To make a world-without-end bargain in. + No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much, + Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this: + If for my love, as there is no such cause, + You will do aught, this shall you do for me: + Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed + To some forlorn and naked hermitage, + Remote from all the pleasures of the world; + There stay until the twelve celestial signs + Have brought about the annual reckoning. + If this austere insociable life + Change not your offer made in heat of blood; + If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds + Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, + But that it bear this trial and last love; + Then, at the expiration of the year, + Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts, + And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine + I will be thine; and till that instant shut + My woeful self up in a mourning house, + Raining the tears of lamentation + For the remembrance of my father's death. + If this thou do deny, let our hands part, + Neither entitled in the other's heart. + +FERDINAND If this, or more than this, I would deny, + To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, + The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! + Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. + +BIRON [And what to me, my love? and what to me? + +ROSALINE You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd, + You are attaint with faults and perjury: + Therefore if you my favour mean to get, + A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, + But seek the weary beds of people sick] + +DUMAIN But what to me, my love? but what to me? A wife? + +KATHARINE A beard, fair health, and honesty; + With three-fold love I wish you all these three. + +DUMAIN O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife? + +KATHARINE Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day + I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say: + Come when the king doth to my lady come; + Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some. + +DUMAIN I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. + +KATHARINE Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again. + +LONGAVILLE What says Maria? + +MARIA At the twelvemonth's end + I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. + +LONGAVILLE I'll stay with patience; but the time is long. + +MARIA The liker you; few taller are so young. + +BIRON Studies my lady? mistress, look on me; + Behold the window of my heart, mine eye, + What humble suit attends thy answer there: + Impose some service on me for thy love. + +ROSALINE Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron, + Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue + Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks, + Full of comparisons and wounding flouts, + Which you on all estates will execute + That lie within the mercy of your wit. + To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain, + And therewithal to win me, if you please, + Without the which I am not to be won, + You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day + Visit the speechless sick and still converse + With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, + With all the fierce endeavor of your wit + To enforce the pained impotent to smile. + +BIRON To move wild laughter in the throat of death? + It cannot be; it is impossible: + Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. + +ROSALINE Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, + Whose influence is begot of that loose grace + Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + Of him that hears it, never in the tongue + Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears, + Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans, + Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, + And I will have you and that fault withal; + But if they will not, throw away that spirit, + And I shall find you empty of that fault, + Right joyful of your reformation. + +BIRON A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall, + I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. + +PRINCESS [To FERDINAND] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. + +FERDINAND No, madam; we will bring you on your way. + +BIRON Our wooing doth not end like an old play; + Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy + Might well have made our sport a comedy. + +FERDINAND Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day, + And then 'twill end. + +BIRON That's too long for a play. + + [Re-enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO] + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,-- + +PRINCESS Was not that Hector? + +DUMAIN The worthy knight of Troy. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am + a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the + plough for her sweet love three years. But, most + esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that + the two learned men have compiled in praise of the + owl and the cuckoo? It should have followed in the + end of our show. + +FERDINAND Call them forth quickly; we will do so. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO Holla! approach. + + [Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, MOTH, COSTARD, + and others] + + This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; + the one maintained by the owl, the other by the + cuckoo. Ver, begin. + + [THE SONG] + + SPRING. + When daisies pied and violets blue + And lady-smocks all silver-white + And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue + Do paint the meadows with delight, + The cuckoo then, on every tree, + Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; + Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, + Unpleasing to a married ear! + + When shepherds pipe on oaten straws + And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, + When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, + And maidens bleach their summer smocks + The cuckoo then, on every tree, + Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; + Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, + Unpleasing to a married ear! + + WINTER. + When icicles hang by the wall + And Dick the shepherd blows his nail + And Tom bears logs into the hall + And milk comes frozen home in pail, + When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, + Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; + Tu-who, a merry note, + While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. + + When all aloud the wind doth blow + And coughing drowns the parson's saw + And birds sit brooding in the snow + And Marian's nose looks red and raw, + When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, + Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; + Tu-who, a merry note, + While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. + +DON +ADRIANO DE ARMADO The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of + Apollo. You that way: we this way. + + [Exeunt] + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +VINCENTIO the Duke. (DUKE VINCENTIO:) + +ANGELO Deputy. + +ESCALUS an ancient Lord. + +CLAUDIO a young gentleman. + +LUCIO a fantastic. + + Two other gentlemen. + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + Provost. + + +PETER (FRIAR PETER:) | + | two friars. +THOMAS (FRIAR THOMAS:) | + + + A Justice. + +VARRIUS: + +ELBOW a simple constable. + +FROTH a foolish gentleman. + +POMPEY servant to Mistress Overdone. + +ABHORSON an executioner. + +BARNARDINE a dissolute prisoner. + +ISABELLA sister to Claudio. + +MARIANA betrothed to Angelo. + +JULIET beloved of Claudio. + +FRANCISCA a nun. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE a bawd. + + Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendant. + (Servant:) + (Messenger:) + + +SCENE Vienna. + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT I + + +SCENE I An apartment in the DUKE'S palace. + + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, ESCALUS, Lords and + Attendants] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Escalus. + +ESCALUS My lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Of government the properties to unfold, + Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse; + Since I am put to know that your own science + Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice + My strength can give you: then no more remains, + But that to your sufficiency [ ] + [ ] as your Worth is able, + And let them work. The nature of our people, + Our city's institutions, and the terms + For common justice, you're as pregnant in + As art and practise hath enriched any + That we remember. There is our commission, + From which we would not have you warp. Call hither, + I say, bid come before us Angelo. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + What figure of us think you he will bear? + For you must know, we have with special soul + Elected him our absence to supply, + Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love, + And given his deputation all the organs + Of our own power: what think you of it? + +ESCALUS If any in Vienna be of worth + To undergo such ample grace and honour, + It is Lord Angelo. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Look where he comes. + + [Enter ANGELO] + +ANGELO Always obedient to your grace's will, + I come to know your pleasure. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Angelo, + There is a kind of character in thy life, + That to the observer doth thy history + Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings + Are not thine own so proper as to waste + Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. + Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, + Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues + Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike + As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd + But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends + The smallest scruple of her excellence + But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines + Herself the glory of a creditor, + Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech + To one that can my part in him advertise; + Hold therefore, Angelo:-- + In our remove be thou at full ourself; + Mortality and mercy in Vienna + Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus, + Though first in question, is thy secondary. + Take thy commission. + +ANGELO Now, good my lord, + Let there be some more test made of my metal, + Before so noble and so great a figure + Be stamp'd upon it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO No more evasion: + We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice + Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours. + Our haste from hence is of so quick condition + That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd + Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, + As time and our concernings shall importune, + How it goes with us, and do look to know + What doth befall you here. So, fare you well; + To the hopeful execution do I leave you + Of your commissions. + +ANGELO Yet give leave, my lord, + That we may bring you something on the way. + +DUKE VINCENTIO My haste may not admit it; + Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do + With any scruple; your scope is as mine own + So to enforce or qualify the laws + As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand: + I'll privily away. I love the people, + But do not like to stage me to their eyes: + Through it do well, I do not relish well + Their loud applause and Aves vehement; + Nor do I think the man of safe discretion + That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. + +ANGELO The heavens give safety to your purposes! + +ESCALUS Lead forth and bring you back in happiness! + +DUKE I thank you. Fare you well. + + [Exit] + +ESCALUS I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave + To have free speech with you; and it concerns me + To look into the bottom of my place: + A power I have, but of what strength and nature + I am not yet instructed. + +ANGELO 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, + And we may soon our satisfaction have + Touching that point. + +ESCALUS I'll wait upon your honour. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT I + + +SCENE II A Street. + + + [Enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] + +LUCIO If the duke with the other dukes come not to + composition with the King of Hungary, why then all + the dukes fall upon the king. + +First Gentleman Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of + Hungary's! + +Second Gentleman Amen. + +LUCIO Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that + went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped + one out of the table. + +Second Gentleman 'Thou shalt not steal'? + +LUCIO Ay, that he razed. + +First Gentleman Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and + all the rest from their functions: they put forth + to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in + the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition + well that prays for peace. + +Second Gentleman I never heard any soldier dislike it. + +LUCIO I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where + grace was said. + +Second Gentleman No? a dozen times at least. + +First Gentleman What, in metre? + +LUCIO In any proportion or in any language. + +First Gentleman I think, or in any religion. + +LUCIO Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all + controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a + wicked villain, despite of all grace. + +First Gentleman Well, there went but a pair of shears between us. + +LUCIO I grant; as there may between the lists and the + velvet. Thou art the list. + +First Gentleman And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt + a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief + be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou + art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak + feelingly now? + +LUCIO I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful + feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own + confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I + live, forget to drink after thee. + +First Gentleman I think I have done myself wrong, have I not? + +Second Gentleman Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. + +LUCIO Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I + have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to-- + +Second Gentleman To what, I pray? + +LUCIO Judge. + +Second Gentleman To three thousand dolours a year. + +First Gentleman Ay, and more. + +LUCIO A French crown more. + +First Gentleman Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou + art full of error; I am sound. + +LUCIO Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as + things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; + impiety has made a feast of thee. + + [Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE] + +First Gentleman How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica? + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried + to prison was worth five thousand of you all. + +Second Gentleman Who's that, I pray thee? + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio. + +First Gentleman Claudio to prison? 'tis not so. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw + him carried away; and, which is more, within these + three days his head to be chopped off. + +LUCIO But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. + Art thou sure of this? + +MISTRESS OVERDONE I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam + Julietta with child. + +LUCIO Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two + hours since, and he was ever precise in + promise-keeping. + +Second Gentleman Besides, you know, it draws something near to the + speech we had to such a purpose. + +First Gentleman But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation. + +LUCIO Away! let's go learn the truth of it. + + [Exeunt LUCIO and Gentlemen] + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what + with the gallows and what with poverty, I am + custom-shrunk. + + [Enter POMPEY] + + How now! what's the news with you? + +POMPEY Yonder man is carried to prison. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Well; what has he done? + +POMPEY A woman. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE But what's his offence? + +POMPEY Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE What, is there a maid with child by him? + +POMPEY No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have + not heard of the proclamation, have you? + +MISTRESS OVERDONE What proclamation, man? + +POMPEY All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE And what shall become of those in the city? + +POMPEY They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too, + but that a wise burgher put in for them. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be + pulled down? + +POMPEY To the ground, mistress. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth! + What shall become of me? + +POMPEY Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no + clients: though you change your place, you need not + change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. + Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that + have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you + will be considered. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw. + +POMPEY Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to + prison; and there's Madam Juliet. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter Provost, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers] + +CLAUDIO Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world? + Bear me to prison, where I am committed. + +Provost I do it not in evil disposition, + But from Lord Angelo by special charge. + +CLAUDIO Thus can the demigod Authority + Make us pay down for our offence by weight + The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; + On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. + + [Re-enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen] + +LUCIO Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint? + +CLAUDIO From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty: + As surfeit is the father of much fast, + So every scope by the immoderate use + Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, + Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, + A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die. + +LUCIO If could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would + send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say + the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom + as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy + offence, Claudio? + +CLAUDIO What but to speak of would offend again. + +LUCIO What, is't murder? + +CLAUDIO No. + +LUCIO Lechery? + +CLAUDIO Call it so. + +Provost Away, sir! you must go. + +CLAUDIO One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you. + +LUCIO A hundred, if they'll do you any good. + Is lechery so look'd after? + +CLAUDIO Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract + I got possession of Julietta's bed: + You know the lady; she is fast my wife, + Save that we do the denunciation lack + Of outward order: this we came not to, + Only for propagation of a dower + Remaining in the coffer of her friends, + From whom we thought it meet to hide our love + Till time had made them for us. But it chances + The stealth of our most mutual entertainment + With character too gross is writ on Juliet. + +LUCIO With child, perhaps? + +CLAUDIO Unhappily, even so. + And the new deputy now for the duke-- + Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, + Or whether that the body public be + A horse whereon the governor doth ride, + Who, newly in the seat, that it may know + He can command, lets it straight feel the spur; + Whether the tyranny be in his place, + Or in his emmence that fills it up, + I stagger in:--but this new governor + Awakes me all the enrolled penalties + Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall + So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round + And none of them been worn; and, for a name, + Now puts the drowsy and neglected act + Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name. + +LUCIO I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on + thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, + may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to + him. + +CLAUDIO I have done so, but he's not to be found. + I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: + This day my sister should the cloister enter + And there receive her approbation: + Acquaint her with the danger of my state: + Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends + To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him: + I have great hope in that; for in her youth + There is a prone and speechless dialect, + Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art + When she will play with reason and discourse, + And well she can persuade. + +LUCIO I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the + like, which else would stand under grievous + imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I + would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a + game of tick-tack. I'll to her. + +CLAUDIO I thank you, good friend Lucio. + +LUCIO Within two hours. + +CLAUDIO Come, officer, away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT I + + +SCENE III A monastery. + + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO and FRIAR THOMAS] + +DUKE VINCENTIO No, holy father; throw away that thought; + Believe not that the dribbling dart of love + Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee + To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose + More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends + Of burning youth. + +FRIAR THOMAS May your grace speak of it? + +DUKE VINCENTIO My holy sir, none better knows than you + How I have ever loved the life removed + And held in idle price to haunt assemblies + Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps. + I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo, + A man of stricture and firm abstinence, + My absolute power and place here in Vienna, + And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; + For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, + And so it is received. Now, pious sir, + You will demand of me why I do this? + +FRIAR THOMAS Gladly, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO We have strict statutes and most biting laws. + The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds, + Which for this nineteen years we have let slip; + Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, + That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers, + Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, + Only to stick it in their children's sight + For terror, not to use, in time the rod + Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees, + Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; + And liberty plucks justice by the nose; + The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart + Goes all decorum. + +FRIAR THOMAS It rested in your grace + To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased: + And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd + Than in Lord Angelo. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I do fear, too dreadful: + Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, + 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them + For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, + When evil deeds have their permissive pass + And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father, + I have on Angelo imposed the office; + Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, + And yet my nature never in the fight + To do in slander. And to behold his sway, + I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, + Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee, + Supply me with the habit and instruct me + How I may formally in person bear me + Like a true friar. More reasons for this action + At our more leisure shall I render you; + Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise; + Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses + That his blood flows, or that his appetite + Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, + If power change purpose, what our seemers be. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT I + + +SCENE IV A nunnery. + + + [Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA] + +ISABELLA And have you nuns no farther privileges? + +FRANCISCA Are not these large enough? + +ISABELLA Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more; + But rather wishing a more strict restraint + Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. + +LUCIO [Within] Ho! Peace be in this place! + +ISABELLA Who's that which calls? + +FRANCISCA It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, + Turn you the key, and know his business of him; + You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn. + When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men + But in the presence of the prioress: + Then, if you speak, you must not show your face, + Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. + He calls again; I pray you, answer him. + + [Exit] + +ISABELLA Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls + + [Enter LUCIO] + +LUCIO Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses + Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me + As bring me to the sight of Isabella, + A novice of this place and the fair sister + To her unhappy brother Claudio? + +ISABELLA Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask, + The rather for I now must make you know + I am that Isabella and his sister. + +LUCIO Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: + Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. + +ISABELLA Woe me! for what? + +LUCIO For that which, if myself might be his judge, + He should receive his punishment in thanks: + He hath got his friend with child. + +ISABELLA Sir, make me not your story. + +LUCIO It is true. + I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin + With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest, + Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so: + I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted. + By your renouncement an immortal spirit, + And to be talk'd with in sincerity, + As with a saint. + +ISABELLA You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. + +LUCIO Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: + Your brother and his lover have embraced: + As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time + That from the seedness the bare fallow brings + To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb + Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. + +ISABELLA Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet? + +LUCIO Is she your cousin? + +ISABELLA Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names + By vain though apt affection. + +LUCIO She it is. + +ISABELLA O, let him marry her. + +LUCIO This is the point. + The duke is very strangely gone from hence; + Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, + In hand and hope of action: but we do learn + By those that know the very nerves of state, + His givings-out were of an infinite distance + From his true-meant design. Upon his place, + And with full line of his authority, + Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood + Is very snow-broth; one who never feels + The wanton stings and motions of the sense, + But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge + With profits of the mind, study and fast. + He--to give fear to use and liberty, + Which have for long run by the hideous law, + As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act, + Under whose heavy sense your brother's life + Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; + And follows close the rigour of the statute, + To make him an example. All hope is gone, + Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer + To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business + 'Twixt you and your poor brother. + +ISABELLA Doth he so seek his life? + +LUCIO Has censured him + Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath + A warrant for his execution. + +ISABELLA Alas! what poor ability's in me + To do him good? + +LUCIO Assay the power you have. + +ISABELLA My power? Alas, I doubt-- + +LUCIO Our doubts are traitors + And make us lose the good we oft might win + By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, + And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, + Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, + All their petitions are as freely theirs + As they themselves would owe them. + +ISABELLA I'll see what I can do. + +LUCIO But speedily. + +ISABELLA I will about it straight; + No longer staying but to give the mother + Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you: + Commend me to my brother: soon at night + I'll send him certain word of my success. + +LUCIO I take my leave of you. + +ISABELLA Good sir, adieu. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I A hall In ANGELO's house. + + + [Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, and a Justice, Provost, + Officers, and other Attendants, behind] + +ANGELO We must not make a scarecrow of the law, + Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, + And let it keep one shape, till custom make it + Their perch and not their terror. + +ESCALUS Ay, but yet + Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, + Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman + Whom I would save, had a most noble father! + Let but your honour know, + Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, + That, in the working of your own affections, + Had time cohered with place or place with wishing, + Or that the resolute acting of your blood + Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose, + Whether you had not sometime in your life + Err'd in this point which now you censure him, + And pull'd the law upon you. + +ANGELO 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, + Another thing to fall. I not deny, + The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, + May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two + Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice, + That justice seizes: what know the laws + That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, + The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't + Because we see it; but what we do not see + We tread upon, and never think of it. + You may not so extenuate his offence + For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, + When I, that censure him, do so offend, + Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, + And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. + +ESCALUS Be it as your wisdom will. + +ANGELO Where is the provost? + +Provost Here, if it like your honour. + +ANGELO See that Claudio + Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: + Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; + For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. + + [Exit Provost] + +ESCALUS [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! + Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: + Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: + And some condemned for a fault alone. + + [Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and POMPEY] + +ELBOW Come, bring them away: if these be good people in + a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in + common houses, I know no law: bring them away. + +ANGELO How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter? + +ELBOW If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's + constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon + justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good + honour two notorious benefactors. + +ANGELO Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are + they not malefactors? + +ELBOW If it? please your honour, I know not well what they + are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure + of; and void of all profanation in the world that + good Christians ought to have. + +ESCALUS This comes off well; here's a wise officer. + +ANGELO Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your + name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow? + +POMPEY He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. + +ANGELO What are you, sir? + +ELBOW He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that + serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they + say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she + professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too. + +ESCALUS How know you that? + +ELBOW My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,-- + +ESCALUS How? thy wife? + +ELBOW Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,-- + +ESCALUS Dost thou detest her therefore? + +ELBOW I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as + she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, + it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. + +ESCALUS How dost thou know that, constable? + +ELBOW Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman + cardinally given, might have been accused in + fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. + +ESCALUS By the woman's means? + +ELBOW Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she + spit in his face, so she defied him. + +POMPEY Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. + +ELBOW Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable + man; prove it. + +ESCALUS Do you hear how he misplaces? + +POMPEY Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, + saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes; + sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very + distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a + dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen + such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very + good dishes,-- + +ESCALUS Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. + +POMPEY No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in + the right: but to the point. As I say, this + Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and + being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for + prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, + Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the + rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very + honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could + not give you three-pence again. + +FROTH No, indeed. + +POMPEY Very well: you being then, if you be remembered, + cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,-- + +FROTH Ay, so I did indeed. + +POMPEY Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be + remembered, that such a one and such a one were past + cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very + good diet, as I told you,-- + +FROTH All this is true. + +POMPEY Why, very well, then,-- + +ESCALUS Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What + was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to + complain of? Come me to what was done to her. + +POMPEY Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. + +ESCALUS No, sir, nor I mean it not. + +POMPEY Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's + leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth + here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose + father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas, + Master Froth? + +FROTH All-hallond eve. + +POMPEY Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, + sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in + the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight + to sit, have you not? + +FROTH I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter. + +POMPEY Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths. + +ANGELO This will last out a night in Russia, + When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave. + And leave you to the hearing of the cause; + Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. + +ESCALUS I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. + + [Exit ANGELO] + + Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more? + +POMPEY Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. + +ELBOW I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. + +POMPEY I beseech your honour, ask me. + +ESCALUS Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her? + +POMPEY I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face. + Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a + good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face? + +ESCALUS Ay, sir, very well. + +POMPEY Nay; I beseech you, mark it well. + +ESCALUS Well, I do so. + +POMPEY Doth your honour see any harm in his face? + +ESCALUS Why, no. + +POMPEY I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst + thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the + worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the + constable's wife any harm? I would know that of + your honour. + +ESCALUS He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it? + +ELBOW First, an it like you, the house is a respected + house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his + mistress is a respected woman. + +POMPEY By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected + person than any of us all. + +ELBOW Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the + time has yet to come that she was ever respected + with man, woman, or child. + +POMPEY Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. + +ESCALUS Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is + this true? + +ELBOW O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked + Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married + to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she + with me, let not your worship think me the poor + duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or + I'll have mine action of battery on thee. + +ESCALUS If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your + action of slander too. + +ELBOW Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't + your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? + +ESCALUS Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him + that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him + continue in his courses till thou knowest what they + are. + +ELBOW Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou + wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art + to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. + +ESCALUS Where were you born, friend? + +FROTH Here in Vienna, sir. + +ESCALUS Are you of fourscore pounds a year? + +FROTH Yes, an't please you, sir. + +ESCALUS So. What trade are you of, sir? + +POMPHEY Tapster; a poor widow's tapster. + +ESCALUS Your mistress' name? + +POMPHEY Mistress Overdone. + +ESCALUS Hath she had any more than one husband? + +POMPEY Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. + +ESCALUS Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master + Froth, I would not have you acquainted with + tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you + will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no + more of you. + +FROTH I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never + come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn + in. + +ESCALUS Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. + + [Exit FROTH] + + Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your + name, Master tapster? + +POMPEY Pompey. + +ESCALUS What else? + +POMPEY Bum, sir. + +ESCALUS Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; + so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the + Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, + howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you + not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you. + +POMPEY Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. + +ESCALUS How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What + do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade? + +POMPEY If the law would allow it, sir. + +ESCALUS But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall + not be allowed in Vienna. + +POMPEY Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the + youth of the city? + +ESCALUS No, Pompey. + +POMPEY Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. + If your worship will take order for the drabs and + the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. + +ESCALUS There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: + it is but heading and hanging. + +POMPEY If you head and hang all that offend that way but + for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a + commission for more heads: if this law hold in + Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it + after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this + come to pass, say Pompey told you so. + +ESCALUS Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your + prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find + you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; + no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, + I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd + Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall + have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well. + +POMPEY I thank your worship for your good counsel: + + [Aside] + + but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall + better determine. + Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade: + The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade. + + [Exit] + +ESCALUS Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master + constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? + +ELBOW Seven year and a half, sir. + +ESCALUS I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had + continued in it some time. You say, seven years together? + +ELBOW And a half, sir. + +ESCALUS Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you + wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men + in your ward sufficient to serve it? + +ELBOW Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they + are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I + do it for some piece of money, and go through with + all. + +ESCALUS Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, + the most sufficient of your parish. + +ELBOW To your worship's house, sir? + +ESCALUS To my house. Fare you well. + + [Exit ELBOW] + + What's o'clock, think you? + +Justice Eleven, sir. + +ESCALUS I pray you home to dinner with me. + +Justice I humbly thank you. + +ESCALUS It grieves me for the death of Claudio; + But there's no remedy. + +Justice Lord Angelo is severe. + +ESCALUS It is but needful: + Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; + Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: + But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy. + Come, sir. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT II + + +SCENE II Another room in the same. + + + [Enter Provost and a Servant] + +Servant He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight + I'll tell him of you. + +Provost Pray you, do. + + [Exit Servant] + + I'll know + His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, + He hath but as offended in a dream! + All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he + To die for't! + + [Enter ANGELO] + +ANGELO Now, what's the matter. Provost? + +Provost Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow? + +ANGELO Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? + Why dost thou ask again? + +Provost Lest I might be too rash: + Under your good correction, I have seen, + When, after execution, judgment hath + Repented o'er his doom. + +ANGELO Go to; let that be mine: + Do you your office, or give up your place, + And you shall well be spared. + +Provost I crave your honour's pardon. + What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? + She's very near her hour. + +ANGELO Dispose of her + To some more fitter place, and that with speed. + + [Re-enter Servant] + +Servant Here is the sister of the man condemn'd + Desires access to you. + +ANGELO Hath he a sister? + +Provost Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, + And to be shortly of a sisterhood, + If not already. + +ANGELO Well, let her be admitted. + + [Exit Servant] + + See you the fornicatress be removed: + Let have needful, but not lavish, means; + There shall be order for't. + + [Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO] + +Provost God save your honour! + +ANGELO Stay a little while. + + [To ISABELLA] + + You're welcome: what's your will? + +ISABELLA I am a woeful suitor to your honour, + Please but your honour hear me. + +ANGELO Well; what's your suit? + +ISABELLA There is a vice that most I do abhor, + And most desire should meet the blow of justice; + For which I would not plead, but that I must; + For which I must not plead, but that I am + At war 'twixt will and will not. + +ANGELO Well; the matter? + +ISABELLA I have a brother is condemn'd to die: + I do beseech you, let it be his fault, + And not my brother. + +Provost [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces! + +ANGELO Condemn the fault and not the actor of it? + Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done: + Mine were the very cipher of a function, + To fine the faults whose fine stands in record, + And let go by the actor. + +ISABELLA O just but severe law! + I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour! + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so: to him + again, entreat him; + Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: + You are too cold; if you should need a pin, + You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: + To him, I say! + +ISABELLA Must he needs die? + +ANGELO Maiden, no remedy. + +ISABELLA Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, + And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. + +ANGELO I will not do't. + +ISABELLA But can you, if you would? + +ANGELO Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. + +ISABELLA But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, + If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse + As mine is to him? + +ANGELO He's sentenced; 'tis too late. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You are too cold. + +ISABELLA Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word. + May call it back again. Well, believe this, + No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, + Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, + The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, + Become them with one half so good a grace + As mercy does. + If he had been as you and you as he, + You would have slipt like him; but he, like you, + Would not have been so stern. + +ANGELO Pray you, be gone. + +ISABELLA I would to heaven I had your potency, + And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? + No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, + And what a prisoner. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] + + Ay, touch him; there's the vein. + +ANGELO Your brother is a forfeit of the law, + And you but waste your words. + +ISABELLA Alas, alas! + Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; + And He that might the vantage best have took + Found out the remedy. How would you be, + If He, which is the top of judgment, should + But judge you as you are? O, think on that; + And mercy then will breathe within your lips, + Like man new made. + +ANGELO Be you content, fair maid; + It is the law, not I condemn your brother: + Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, + It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow. + +ISABELLA To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! + He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens + We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven + With less respect than we do minister + To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you; + Who is it that hath died for this offence? + There's many have committed it. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, well said. + +ANGELO The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: + Those many had not dared to do that evil, + If the first that did the edict infringe + Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake + Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, + Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, + Either new, or by remissness new-conceived, + And so in progress to be hatch'd and born, + Are now to have no successive degrees, + But, ere they live, to end. + +ISABELLA Yet show some pity. + +ANGELO I show it most of all when I show justice; + For then I pity those I do not know, + Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall; + And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, + Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; + Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. + +ISABELLA So you must be the first that gives this sentence, + And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent + To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous + To use it like a giant. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] That's well said. + +ISABELLA Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder; + Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, + Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt + Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak + Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, + Drest in a little brief authority, + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence, like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven + As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, + Would all themselves laugh mortal. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! he + will relent; + He's coming; I perceive 't. + +Provost [Aside] Pray heaven she win him! + +ISABELLA We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: + Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, + But in the less foul profanation. + +LUCIO Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that. + +ISABELLA That in the captain's but a choleric word, + Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Art avised o' that? more on 't. + +ANGELO Why do you put these sayings upon me? + +ISABELLA Because authority, though it err like others, + Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, + That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom; + Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know + That's like my brother's fault: if it confess + A natural guiltiness such as is his, + Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue + Against my brother's life. + +ANGELO [Aside] She speaks, and 'tis + Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well. + +ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back. + +ANGELO I will bethink me: come again tomorrow. + +ISABELLA Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. + +ANGELO How! bribe me? + +ISABELLA Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] You had marr'd all else. + +ISABELLA Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, + Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor + As fancy values them; but with true prayers + That shall be up at heaven and enter there + Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, + From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate + To nothing temporal. + +ANGELO Well; come to me to-morrow. + +LUCIO [Aside to ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away! + +ISABELLA Heaven keep your honour safe! + +ANGELO [Aside] Amen: + For I am that way going to temptation, + Where prayers cross. + +ISABELLA At what hour to-morrow + Shall I attend your lordship? + +ANGELO At any time 'fore noon. + +ISABELLA 'Save your honour! + + [Exeunt ISABELLA, LUCIO, and Provost] + +ANGELO From thee, even from thy virtue! + What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? + The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? + Ha! + Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I + That, lying by the violet in the sun, + Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, + Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be + That modesty may more betray our sense + Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, + Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary + And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie! + What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? + Dost thou desire her foully for those things + That make her good? O, let her brother live! + Thieves for their robbery have authority + When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, + That I desire to hear her speak again, + And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? + O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, + With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous + Is that temptation that doth goad us on + To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, + With all her double vigour, art and nature, + Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid + Subdues me quite. Even till now, + When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how. + + [Exit] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT II + + +SCENE III A room in a prison. + + + [Enter, severally, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as a + friar, and Provost] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. + +Provost I am the provost. What's your will, good friar? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Bound by my charity and my blest order, + I come to visit the afflicted spirits + Here in the prison. Do me the common right + To let me see them and to make me know + The nature of their crimes, that I may minister + To them accordingly. + +Provost I would do more than that, if more were needful. + + [Enter JULIET] + + Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine, + Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, + Hath blister'd her report: she is with child; + And he that got it, sentenced; a young man + More fit to do another such offence + Than die for this. + +DUKE VINCENTIO When must he die? + +Provost As I do think, to-morrow. + I have provided for you: stay awhile, + + [To JULIET] + + And you shall be conducted. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? + +JULIET I do; and bear the shame most patiently. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, + And try your penitence, if it be sound, + Or hollowly put on. + +JULIET I'll gladly learn. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Love you the man that wrong'd you? + +JULIET Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. + +DUKE VINCENTIO So then it seems your most offenceful act + Was mutually committed? + +JULIET Mutually. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. + +JULIET I do confess it, and repent it, father. + +DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent, + As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, + Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven, + Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it, + But as we stand in fear,-- + +JULIET I do repent me, as it is an evil, + And take the shame with joy. + +DUKE VINCENTIO There rest. + Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, + And I am going with instruction to him. + Grace go with you, Benedicite! + + [Exit] + +JULIET Must die to-morrow! O injurious love, + That respites me a life, whose very comfort + Is still a dying horror! + +Provost 'Tis pity of him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT II + + +SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. + + + [Enter ANGELO] + +ANGELO When I would pray and think, I think and pray + To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words; + Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, + Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, + As if I did but only chew his name; + And in my heart the strong and swelling evil + Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied + Is like a good thing, being often read, + Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, + Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride, + Could I with boot change for an idle plume, + Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, + How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, + Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls + To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood: + Let's write good angel on the devil's horn: + 'Tis not the devil's crest. + + [Enter a Servant] + + How now! who's there? + +Servant One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. + +ANGELO Teach her the way. + + [Exit Servant] + + O heavens! + Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, + Making both it unable for itself, + And dispossessing all my other parts + Of necessary fitness? + So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; + Come all to help him, and so stop the air + By which he should revive: and even so + The general, subject to a well-wish'd king, + Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness + Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love + Must needs appear offence. + + [Enter ISABELLA] + + How now, fair maid? + +ISABELLA I am come to know your pleasure. + +ANGELO That you might know it, would much better please me + Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. + +ISABELLA Even so. Heaven keep your honour! + +ANGELO Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be, + As long as you or I yet he must die. + +ISABELLA Under your sentence? + +ANGELO Yea. + +ISABELLA When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, + Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted + That his soul sicken not. + +ANGELO Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good + To pardon him that hath from nature stolen + A man already made, as to remit + Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image + In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy + Falsely to take away a life true made + As to put metal in restrained means + To make a false one. + +ISABELLA 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. + +ANGELO Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly. + Which had you rather, that the most just law + Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, + Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness + As she that he hath stain'd? + +ISABELLA Sir, believe this, + I had rather give my body than my soul. + +ANGELO I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins + Stand more for number than for accompt. + +ISABELLA How say you? + +ANGELO Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak + Against the thing I say. Answer to this: + I, now the voice of the recorded law, + Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life: + Might there not be a charity in sin + To save this brother's life? + +ISABELLA Please you to do't, + I'll take it as a peril to my soul, + It is no sin at all, but charity. + +ANGELO Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul, + Were equal poise of sin and charity. + +ISABELLA That I do beg his life, if it be sin, + Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit, + If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer + To have it added to the faults of mine, + And nothing of your answer. + +ANGELO Nay, but hear me. + Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, + Or seem so craftily; and that's not good. + +ISABELLA Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, + But graciously to know I am no better. + +ANGELO Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright + When it doth tax itself; as these black masks + Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder + Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me; + To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: + Your brother is to die. + +ISABELLA So. + +ANGELO And his offence is so, as it appears, + Accountant to the law upon that pain. + +ISABELLA True. + +ANGELO Admit no other way to save his life,-- + As I subscribe not that, nor any other, + But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister, + Finding yourself desired of such a person, + Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, + Could fetch your brother from the manacles + Of the all-building law; and that there were + No earthly mean to save him, but that either + You must lay down the treasures of your body + To this supposed, or else to let him suffer; + What would you do? + +ISABELLA As much for my poor brother as myself: + That is, were I under the terms of death, + The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies, + And strip myself to death, as to a bed + That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield + My body up to shame. + +ANGELO Then must your brother die. + +ISABELLA And 'twere the cheaper way: + Better it were a brother died at once, + Than that a sister, by redeeming him, + Should die for ever. + +ANGELO Were not you then as cruel as the sentence + That you have slander'd so? + +ISABELLA Ignomy in ransom and free pardon + Are of two houses: lawful mercy + Is nothing kin to foul redemption. + +ANGELO You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; + And rather proved the sliding of your brother + A merriment than a vice. + +ISABELLA O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, + To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean: + I something do excuse the thing I hate, + For his advantage that I dearly love. + +ANGELO We are all frail. + +ISABELLA Else let my brother die, + If not a feodary, but only he + Owe and succeed thy weakness. + +ANGELO Nay, women are frail too. + +ISABELLA Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; + Which are as easy broke as they make forms. + Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar + In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; + For we are soft as our complexions are, + And credulous to false prints. + +ANGELO I think it well: + And from this testimony of your own sex,-- + Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger + Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold; + I do arrest your words. Be that you are, + That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; + If you be one, as you are well express'd + By all external warrants, show it now, + By putting on the destined livery. + +ISABELLA I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, + Let me entreat you speak the former language. + +ANGELO Plainly conceive, I love you. + +ISABELLA My brother did love Juliet, + And you tell me that he shall die for it. + +ANGELO He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. + +ISABELLA I know your virtue hath a licence in't, + Which seems a little fouler than it is, + To pluck on others. + +ANGELO Believe me, on mine honour, + My words express my purpose. + +ISABELLA Ha! little honour to be much believed, + And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! + I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: + Sign me a present pardon for my brother, + Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud + What man thou art. + +ANGELO Who will believe thee, Isabel? + My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, + My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, + Will so your accusation overweigh, + That you shall stifle in your own report + And smell of calumny. I have begun, + And now I give my sensual race the rein: + Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; + Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes, + That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother + By yielding up thy body to my will; + Or else he must not only die the death, + But thy unkindness shall his death draw out + To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, + Or, by the affection that now guides me most, + I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, + Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. + + [Exit] + +ISABELLA To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, + Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, + That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, + Either of condemnation or approof; + Bidding the law make court'sy to their will: + Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, + To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother: + Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, + Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour. + That, had he twenty heads to tender down + On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up, + Before his sister should her body stoop + To such abhorr'd pollution. + Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: + More than our brother is our chastity. + I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, + And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. + + [Exit] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I A room in the prison. + + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before, CLAUDIO, + and Provost] + +DUKE VINCENTIO So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? + +CLAUDIO The miserable have no other medicine + But only hope: + I've hope to live, and am prepared to die. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Be absolute for death; either death or life + Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: + If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing + That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, + Servile to all the skyey influences, + That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, + Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; + For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun + And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble; + For all the accommodations that thou bear'st + Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant; + For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork + Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, + And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st + Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; + For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains + That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; + For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, + And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain; + For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, + After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; + For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, + Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey, + And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; + For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, + The mere effusion of thy proper loins, + Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, + For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, + But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, + Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth + Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms + Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, + Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, + To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this + That bears the name of life? Yet in this life + Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear, + That makes these odds all even. + +CLAUDIO I humbly thank you. + To sue to live, I find I seek to die; + And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. + +ISABELLA [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company! + +Provost Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. + +CLAUDIO Most holy sir, I thank you. + + [Enter ISABELLA] + +ISABELLA My business is a word or two with Claudio. + +Provost And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Provost, a word with you. + +Provost As many as you please. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. + + [Exeunt DUKE VINCENTIO and Provost] + +CLAUDIO Now, sister, what's the comfort? + +ISABELLA Why, + As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. + Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, + Intends you for his swift ambassador, + Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: + Therefore your best appointment make with speed; + To-morrow you set on. + +CLAUDIO Is there no remedy? + +ISABELLA None, but such remedy as, to save a head, + To cleave a heart in twain. + +CLAUDIO But is there any? + +ISABELLA Yes, brother, you may live: + There is a devilish mercy in the judge, + If you'll implore it, that will free your life, + But fetter you till death. + +CLAUDIO Perpetual durance? + +ISABELLA Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, + Though all the world's vastidity you had, + To a determined scope. + +CLAUDIO But in what nature? + +ISABELLA In such a one as, you consenting to't, + Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, + And leave you naked. + +CLAUDIO Let me know the point. + +ISABELLA O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, + Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, + And six or seven winters more respect + Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? + The sense of death is most in apprehension; + And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, + In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great + As when a giant dies. + +CLAUDIO Why give you me this shame? + Think you I can a resolution fetch + From flowery tenderness? If I must die, + I will encounter darkness as a bride, + And hug it in mine arms. + +ISABELLA There spake my brother; there my father's grave + Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: + Thou art too noble to conserve a life + In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, + Whose settled visage and deliberate word + Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew + As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil + His filth within being cast, he would appear + A pond as deep as hell. + +CLAUDIO The prenzie Angelo! + +ISABELLA O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, + The damned'st body to invest and cover + In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio? + If I would yield him my virginity, + Thou mightst be freed. + +CLAUDIO O heavens! it cannot be. + +ISABELLA Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence, + So to offend him still. This night's the time + That I should do what I abhor to name, + Or else thou diest to-morrow. + +CLAUDIO Thou shalt not do't. + +ISABELLA O, were it but my life, + I'ld throw it down for your deliverance + As frankly as a pin. + +CLAUDIO Thanks, dear Isabel. + +ISABELLA Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow. + +CLAUDIO Yes. Has he affections in him, + That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, + When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin, + Or of the deadly seven, it is the least. + +ISABELLA Which is the least? + +CLAUDIO If it were damnable, he being so wise, + Why would he for the momentary trick + Be perdurably fined? O Isabel! + +ISABELLA What says my brother? + +CLAUDIO Death is a fearful thing. + +ISABELLA And shamed life a hateful. + +CLAUDIO Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; + To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; + This sensible warm motion to become + A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit + To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside + In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; + To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, + And blown with restless violence round about + The pendent world; or to be worse than worst + Of those that lawless and incertain thought + Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible! + The weariest and most loathed worldly life + That age, ache, penury and imprisonment + Can lay on nature is a paradise + To what we fear of death. + +ISABELLA Alas, alas! + +CLAUDIO Sweet sister, let me live: + What sin you do to save a brother's life, + Nature dispenses with the deed so far + That it becomes a virtue. + +ISABELLA O you beast! + O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! + Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? + Is't not a kind of incest, to take life + From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? + Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair! + For such a warped slip of wilderness + Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance! + Die, perish! Might but my bending down + Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed: + I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, + No word to save thee. + +CLAUDIO Nay, hear me, Isabel. + +ISABELLA O, fie, fie, fie! + Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade. + Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: + 'Tis best thou diest quickly. + +CLAUDIO O hear me, Isabella! + + [Re-enter DUKE VINCENTIO] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. + +ISABELLA What is your will? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and + by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I + would require is likewise your own benefit. + +ISABELLA I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be + stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. + + [Walks apart] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you + and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to + corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her + virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition + of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, + hath made him that gracious denial which he is most + glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I + know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to + death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes + that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to + your knees and make ready. + +CLAUDIO Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love + with life that I will sue to be rid of it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Hold you there: farewell. + + [Exit CLAUDIO] + + Provost, a word with you! + + [Re-enter Provost] + +Provost What's your will, father + +DUKE VINCENTIO That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me + awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my + habit no loss shall touch her by my company. + +Provost In good time. + + [Exit Provost. ISABELLA comes forward] + +DUKE VINCENTIO The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: + the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty + brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of + your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever + fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, + fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but + that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should + wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this + substitute, and to save your brother? + +ISABELLA I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my + brother die by the law than my son should be + unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke + deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can + speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or + discover his government. + +DUKE VINCENTIO That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter + now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made + trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my + advisings: to the love I have in doing good a + remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe + that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged + lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from + the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious + person; and much please the absent duke, if + peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of + this business. + +ISABELLA Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do + anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have + you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of + Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea? + +ISABELLA I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. + +DUKE VINCENTIO She should this Angelo have married; was affianced + to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between + which time of the contract and limit of the + solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, + having in that perished vessel the dowry of his + sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the + poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and + renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most + kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of + her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her + combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. + +ISABELLA Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them + with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, + pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few, + bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet + wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, + is washed with them, but relents not. + +ISABELLA What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid + from the world! What corruption in this life, that + it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the + cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps + you from dishonour in doing it. + +ISABELLA Show me how, good father. + +DUKE VINCENTIO This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance + of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that + in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, + like an impediment in the current, made it more + violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his + requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with + his demands to the point; only refer yourself to + this advantage, first, that your stay with him may + not be long; that the time may have all shadow and + silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. + This being granted in course,--and now follows + all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up + your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter + acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to + her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother + saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana + advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid + will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you + think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness + of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. + What think you of it? + +ISABELLA The image of it gives me content already; and I + trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily + to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his + bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will + presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated + grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that + place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that + it may be quickly. + +ISABELLA I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The street before the prison. + + + [Enter, on one side, DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as + before; on the other, ELBOW, and Officers with POMPEY] + +ELBOW Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will + needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we + shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. + +DUKE VINCENTIO O heavens! what stuff is here + +POMPEY 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the + merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by + order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and + furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that + craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. + +ELBOW Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar. + +DUKE VINCENTIO And you, good brother father. What offence hath + this man made you, sir? + +ELBOW Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we + take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found + upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have + sent to the deputy. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! + The evil that thou causest to be done, + That is thy means to live. Do thou but think + What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back + From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, + From their abominable and beastly touches + I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. + Canst thou believe thy living is a life, + So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. + +POMPEY Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, + sir, I would prove-- + +DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, + Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer: + Correction and instruction must both work + Ere this rude beast will profit. + +ELBOW He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him + warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if + he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were + as good go a mile on his errand. + +DUKE VINCENTIO That we were all, as some would seem to be, + From our faults, as faults from seeming, free! + +ELBOW His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir. + +POMPEY I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a + friend of mine. + + [Enter LUCIO] + +LUCIO How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of + Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there + none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be + had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and + extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What + sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't + not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest + thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is + the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The + trick of it? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Still thus, and thus; still worse! + +LUCIO How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she + still, ha? + +POMPEY Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she + is herself in the tub. + +LUCIO Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be + so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: + an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going + to prison, Pompey? + +POMPEY Yes, faith, sir. + +LUCIO Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I + sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how? + +ELBOW For being a bawd, for being a bawd. + +LUCIO Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the + due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he + doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. + Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, + Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you + will keep the house. + +POMPEY I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. + +LUCIO No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. + I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If + you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the + more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar. + +DUKE VINCENTIO And you. + +LUCIO Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? + +ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. + +POMPEY You will not bail me, then, sir? + +LUCIO Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? + what news? + +ELBOW Come your ways, sir; come. + +LUCIO Go to kennel, Pompey; go. + + [Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and Officers] + + What news, friar, of the duke? + +DUKE VINCENTIO I know none. Can you tell me of any? + +LUCIO Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other + some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you? + +DUKE VINCENTIO I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well. + +LUCIO It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from + the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born + to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he + puts transgression to 't. + +DUKE VINCENTIO He does well in 't. + +LUCIO A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in + him: something too crabbed that way, friar. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. + +LUCIO Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; + it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp + it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put + down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and + woman after this downright way of creation: is it + true, think you? + +DUKE VINCENTIO How should he be made, then? + +LUCIO Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he + was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is + certain that when he makes water his urine is + congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a + motion generative; that's infallible. + +DUKE VINCENTIO You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. + +LUCIO Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the + rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a + man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? + Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a + hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing + a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he + knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I never heard the absent duke much detected for + women; he was not inclined that way. + +LUCIO O, sir, you are deceived. + +DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis not possible. + +LUCIO Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and + his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the + duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; + that let me inform you. + +DUKE VINCENTIO You do him wrong, surely. + +LUCIO Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the + duke: and I believe I know the cause of his + withdrawing. + +DUKE VINCENTIO What, I prithee, might be the cause? + +LUCIO No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the + teeth and the lips: but this I can let you + understand, the greater file of the subject held the + duke to be wise. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Wise! why, no question but he was. + +LUCIO A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking: + the very stream of his life and the business he hath + helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better + proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own + bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the + envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier. + Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your + knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice. + +LUCIO Sir, I know him, and I love him. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with + dearer love. + +LUCIO Come, sir, I know what I know. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I can hardly believe that, since you know not what + you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our + prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your + answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, + you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call + upon you; and, I pray you, your name? + +LUCIO Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke. + +DUKE VINCENTIO He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to + report you. + +LUCIO I fear you not. + +DUKE VINCENTIO O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you + imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I + can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again. + +LUCIO I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, + friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if + Claudio die to-morrow or no? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Why should he die, sir? + +LUCIO Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would + the duke we talk of were returned again: the + ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with + continency; sparrows must not build in his + house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke + yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would + never bring them to light: would he were returned! + Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. + Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The + duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on + Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee, + he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown + bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell. + + [Exit] + +DUKE VINCENTIO No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + But who comes here? + + [Enter ESCALUS, Provost, and Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] + +ESCALUS Go; away with her to prison! + +MISTRESS OVERDONE Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted + a merciful man; good my lord. + +ESCALUS Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in + the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play + the tyrant. + +Provost A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please + your honour. + +MISTRESS OVERDONE My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. + Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the + duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child + is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: + I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me! + +ESCALUS That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be + called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; + no more words. + + [Exeunt Officers with MISTRESS OVERDONE] + + Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; + Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished + with divines, and have all charitable preparation. + if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be + so with him. + +Provost So please you, this friar hath been with him, and + advised him for the entertainment of death. + +ESCALUS Good even, good father. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Bliss and goodness on you! + +ESCALUS Of whence are you? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Not of this country, though my chance is now + To use it for my time: I am a brother + Of gracious order, late come from the See + In special business from his holiness. + +ESCALUS What news abroad i' the world? + +DUKE VINCENTIO None, but that there is so great a fever on + goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: + novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous + to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous + to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce + truth enough alive to make societies secure; but + security enough to make fellowships accurst: much + upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This + news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I + pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke? + +ESCALUS One that, above all other strifes, contended + especially to know himself. + +DUKE VINCENTIO What pleasure was he given to? + +ESCALUS Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at + any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a + gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to + his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; + and let me desire to know how you find Claudio + prepared. I am made to understand that you have + lent him visitation. + +DUKE VINCENTIO He professes to have received no sinister measure + from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself + to the determination of justice: yet had he framed + to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many + deceiving promises of life; which I by my good + leisure have discredited to him, and now is he + resolved to die. + +ESCALUS You have paid the heavens your function, and the + prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have + laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest + shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I + found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him + he is indeed Justice. + +DUKE VINCENTIO If his own life answer the straitness of his + proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he + chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. + +ESCALUS I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Peace be with you! + + [Exeunt ESCALUS and Provost] + + He who the sword of heaven will bear + Should be as holy as severe; + Pattern in himself to know, + Grace to stand, and virtue go; + More nor less to others paying + Than by self-offences weighing. + Shame to him whose cruel striking + Kills for faults of his own liking! + Twice treble shame on Angelo, + To weed my vice and let his grow! + O, what may man within him hide, + Though angel on the outward side! + How may likeness made in crimes, + Making practise on the times, + To draw with idle spiders' strings + Most ponderous and substantial things! + Craft against vice I must apply: + With Angelo to-night shall lie + His old betrothed but despised; + So disguise shall, by the disguised, + Pay with falsehood false exacting, + And perform an old contracting. + + [Exit] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE I The moated grange at ST. LUKE's. + + + [Enter MARIANA and a Boy] + + [Boy sings] + + Take, O, take those lips away, + That so sweetly were forsworn; + And those eyes, the break of day, + Lights that do mislead the morn: + But my kisses bring again, bring again; + Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. + +MARIANA Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away: + Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice + Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. + + [Exit Boy] + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] + + I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish + You had not found me here so musical: + Let me excuse me, and believe me so, + My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe. + +DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm + To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. + I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired + for me here to-day? much upon this time have + I promised here to meet. + +MARIANA You have not been inquired after: + I have sat here all day. + + [Enter ISABELLA] + +DUKE VINCENTIO I do constantly believe you. The time is come even + now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may + be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself. + +MARIANA I am always bound to you. + + [Exit] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Very well met, and well come. + What is the news from this good deputy? + +ISABELLA He hath a garden circummured with brick, + Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd; + And to that vineyard is a planched gate, + That makes his opening with this bigger key: + This other doth command a little door + Which from the vineyard to the garden leads; + There have I made my promise + Upon the heavy middle of the night + To call upon him. + +DUKE VINCENTIO But shall you on your knowledge find this way? + +ISABELLA I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't: + With whispering and most guilty diligence, + In action all of precept, he did show me + The way twice o'er. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Are there no other tokens + Between you 'greed concerning her observance? + +ISABELLA No, none, but only a repair i' the dark; + And that I have possess'd him my most stay + Can be but brief; for I have made him know + I have a servant comes with me along, + That stays upon me, whose persuasion is + I come about my brother. + +DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis well borne up. + I have not yet made known to Mariana + A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth! + + [Re-enter MARIANA] + + I pray you, be acquainted with this maid; + She comes to do you good. + +ISABELLA I do desire the like. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? + +MARIANA Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Take, then, this your companion by the hand, + Who hath a story ready for your ear. + I shall attend your leisure: but make haste; + The vaporous night approaches. + +MARIANA Will't please you walk aside? + + [Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA] + +DUKE VINCENTIO O place and greatness! millions of false eyes + Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report + Run with these false and most contrarious quests + Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit + Make thee the father of their idle dreams + And rack thee in their fancies. + + [Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA] + + Welcome, how agreed? + +ISABELLA She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, + If you advise it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is not my consent, + But my entreaty too. + +ISABELLA Little have you to say + When you depart from him, but, soft and low, + 'Remember now my brother.' + +MARIANA Fear me not. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. + He is your husband on a pre-contract: + To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin, + Sith that the justice of your title to him + Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go: + Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE II A room in the prison. + + + [Enter Provost and POMPEY] + +Provost Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? + +POMPEY If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a + married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never + cut off a woman's head. + +Provost Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a + direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio + and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common + executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if + you will take it on you to assist him, it shall + redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have + your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance + with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a + notorious bawd. + +POMPEY Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; + but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I + would be glad to receive some instruction from my + fellow partner. + +Provost What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there? + + [Enter ABHORSON] + +ABHORSON Do you call, sir? + +Provost Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in + your execution. If you think it meet, compound with + him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if + not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He + cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. + +ABHORSON A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery. + +Provost Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn + the scale. + + [Exit] + +POMPEY Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a + good favour you have, but that you have a hanging + look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? + +ABHORSON Ay, sir; a mystery + +POMPEY Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and + your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, + using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: + but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I + should be hanged, I cannot imagine. + +ABHORSON Sir, it is a mystery. + +POMPEY Proof? + +ABHORSON Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be + too little for your thief, your true man thinks it + big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your + thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's + apparel fits your thief. + + [Re-enter Provost] + +Provost Are you agreed? + +POMPEY Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is + a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth + oftener ask forgiveness. + +Provost You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe + to-morrow four o'clock. + +ABHORSON Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow. + +POMPEY I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have + occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find + me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you + a good turn. + +Provost Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: + + [Exeunt POMPEY and ABHORSON] + + The one has my pity; not a jot the other, + Being a murderer, though he were my brother. + + [Enter CLAUDIO] + + Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death: + 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow + Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? + +CLAUDIO As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour + When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones: + He will not wake. + +Provost Who can do good on him? + Well, go, prepare yourself. + + [Knocking within] + + But, hark, what noise? + Heaven give your spirits comfort! + + [Exit CLAUDIO] + + By and by. + I hope it is some pardon or reprieve + For the most gentle Claudio. + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] + + Welcome father. + +DUKE VINCENTIO The best and wholesomest spirts of the night + Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late? + +Provost None, since the curfew rung. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Not Isabel? + +Provost No. + +DUKE VINCENTIO They will, then, ere't be long. + +Provost What comfort is for Claudio? + +DUKE VINCENTIO There's some in hope. + +Provost It is a bitter deputy. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd + Even with the stroke and line of his great justice: + He doth with holy abstinence subdue + That in himself which he spurs on his power + To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that + Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; + But this being so, he's just. + + [Knocking within] + + Now are they come. + + [Exit Provost] + + This is a gentle provost: seldom when + The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. + + [Knocking within] + + How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste + That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes. + + [Re-enter Provost] + +Provost There he must stay until the officer + Arise to let him in: he is call'd up. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, + But he must die to-morrow? + +Provost None, sir, none. + +DUKE VINCENTIO As near the dawning, provost, as it is, + You shall hear more ere morning. + +Provost Happily + You something know; yet I believe there comes + No countermand; no such example have we: + Besides, upon the very siege of justice + Lord Angelo hath to the public ear + Profess'd the contrary. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + This is his lordship's man. + +DUKE VINCENTIO And here comes Claudio's pardon. + +Messenger [Giving a paper] + + My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this + further charge, that you swerve not from the + smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or + other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, + it is almost day. + +Provost I shall obey him. + + [Exit Messenger] + +DUKE VINCENTIO [Aside] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin + For which the pardoner himself is in. + Hence hath offence his quick celerity, + When it is born in high authority: + When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended, + That for the fault's love is the offender friended. + Now, sir, what news? + +Provost I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss + in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted + putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Pray you, let's hear. + +Provost [Reads] + + 'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let + Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the + afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction, + let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let + this be duly performed; with a thought that more + depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail + not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.' + What say you to this, sir? + +DUKE VINCENTIO What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the + afternoon? + +Provost A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one + that is a prisoner nine years old. + +DUKE VINCENTIO How came it that the absent duke had not either + delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I + have heard it was ever his manner to do so. + +Provost His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and, + indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord + Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is now apparent? + +Provost Most manifest, and not denied by himself. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Hath he born himself penitently in prison? how + seems he to be touched? + +Provost A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but + as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless + of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of + mortality, and desperately mortal. + +DUKE VINCENTIO He wants advice. + +Provost He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty + of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he + would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days + entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if + to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming + warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all. + +DUKE VINCENTIO More of him anon. There is written in your brow, + provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not + truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the + boldness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. + Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is + no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath + sentenced him. To make you understand this in a + manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite; + for the which you are to do me both a present and a + dangerous courtesy. + +Provost Pray, sir, in what? + +DUKE VINCENTIO In the delaying death. + +Provost A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, + and an express command, under penalty, to deliver + his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case + as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. + +DUKE VINCENTIO By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my + instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine + be this morning executed, and his head born to Angelo. + +Provost Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. + +DUKE VINCENTIO O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. + Shave the head, and tie the beard; and say it was + the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his + death: you know the course is common. If any thing + fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good + fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead + against it with my life. + +Provost Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy? + +Provost To him, and to his substitutes. + +DUKE VINCENTIO You will think you have made no offence, if the duke + avouch the justice of your dealing? + +Provost But what likelihood is in that? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see + you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor + persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go + further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. + Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the + duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the + signet is not strange to you. + +Provost I know them both. + +DUKE VINCENTIO The contents of this is the return of the duke: you + shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you + shall find, within these two days he will be here. + This is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this + very day receives letters of strange tenor; + perchance of the duke's death; perchance entering + into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what + is writ. Look, the unfolding star calls up the + shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these + things should be: all difficulties are but easy + when they are known. Call your executioner, and off + with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present + shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you + are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. + Come away; it is almost clear dawn. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE III Another room in the same. + + + [Enter POMPEY] + +POMPEY I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house + of profession: one would think it were Mistress + Overdone's own house, for here be many of her old + customers. First, here's young Master Rash; he's in + for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, + ninescore and seventeen pounds; of which he made + five marks, ready money: marry, then ginger was not + much in request, for the old women were all dead. + Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of + Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of + peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a + beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young + Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master + Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young + Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master + Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shooty the + great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed + Pots, and, I think, forty more; all great doers in + our trade, and are now 'for the Lord's sake.' + + [Enter ABHORSON] + +ABHORSON Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. + +POMPEY Master Barnardine! you must rise and be hanged. + Master Barnardine! + +ABHORSON What, ho, Barnardine! + +BARNARDINE [Within] A pox o' your throats! Who makes that + noise there? What are you? + +POMPEY Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so + good, sir, to rise and be put to death. + +BARNARDINE [Within] Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. + +ABHORSON Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. + +POMPEY Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are + executed, and sleep afterwards. + +ABHORSON Go in to him, and fetch him out. + +POMPEY He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle. + +ABHORSON Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? + +POMPEY Very ready, sir. + + [Enter BARNARDINE] + +BARNARDINE How now, Abhorson? what's the news with you? + +ABHORSON Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your + prayers; for, look you, the warrant's come. + +BARNARDINE You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not + fitted for 't. + +POMPEY O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night, + and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the + sounder all the next day. + +ABHORSON Look you, sir; here comes your ghostly father: do + we jest now, think you? + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO disguised as before] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily + you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort + you and pray with you. + +BARNARDINE Friar, not I I have been drinking hard all night, + and I will have more time to prepare me, or they + shall beat out my brains with billets: I will not + consent to die this day, that's certain. + +DUKE VINCENTIO O, sir, you must: and therefore I beseech you + Look forward on the journey you shall go. + +BARNARDINE I swear I will not die to-day for any man's + persuasion. + +DUKE VINCENTIO But hear you. + +BARNARDINE Not a word: if you have any thing to say to me, + come to my ward; for thence will not I to-day. + + [Exit] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Unfit to live or die: O gravel heart! + After him, fellows; bring him to the block. + + [Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY] + + [Re-enter Provost] + +Provost Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? + +DUKE VINCENTIO A creature unprepared, unmeet for death; + And to transport him in the mind he is + Were damnable. + +Provost Here in the prison, father, + There died this morning of a cruel fever + One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, + A man of Claudio's years; his beard and head + Just of his colour. What if we do omit + This reprobate till he were well inclined; + And satisfy the deputy with the visage + Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? + +DUKE VINCENTIO O, 'tis an accident that heaven provides! + Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on + Prefix'd by Angelo: see this be done, + And sent according to command; whiles I + Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. + +Provost This shall be done, good father, presently. + But Barnardine must die this afternoon: + And how shall we continue Claudio, + To save me from the danger that might come + If he were known alive? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Let this be done. + Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio: + Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting + To the under generation, you shall find + Your safety manifested. + +Provost I am your free dependant. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. + + [Exit Provost] + + Now will I write letters to Angelo,-- + The provost, he shall bear them, whose contents + Shall witness to him I am near at home, + And that, by great injunctions, I am bound + To enter publicly: him I'll desire + To meet me at the consecrated fount + A league below the city; and from thence, + By cold gradation and well-balanced form, + We shall proceed with Angelo. + + [Re-enter Provost] + +Provost Here is the head; I'll carry it myself. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Convenient is it. Make a swift return; + For I would commune with you of such things + That want no ear but yours. + +Provost I'll make all speed. + + [Exit] + +ISABELLA [Within] Peace, ho, be here! + +DUKE VINCENTIO The tongue of Isabel. She's come to know + If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: + But I will keep her ignorant of her good, + To make her heavenly comforts of despair, + When it is least expected. + + [Enter ISABELLA] + +ISABELLA Ho, by your leave! + +DUKE VINCENTIO Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. + +ISABELLA The better, given me by so holy a man. + Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon? + +DUKE VINCENTIO He hath released him, Isabel, from the world: + His head is off and sent to Angelo. + +ISABELLA Nay, but it is not so. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is no other: show your wisdom, daughter, + In your close patience. + +ISABELLA O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! + +DUKE VINCENTIO You shall not be admitted to his sight. + +ISABELLA Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel! + Injurious world! most damned Angelo! + +DUKE VINCENTIO This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; + Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. + Mark what I say, which you shall find + By every syllable a faithful verity: + The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes; + One of our convent, and his confessor, + Gives me this instance: already he hath carried + Notice to Escalus and Angelo, + Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, + There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom + In that good path that I would wish it go, + And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, + Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, + And general honour. + +ISABELLA I am directed by you. + +DUKE VINCENTIO This letter, then, to Friar Peter give; + 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return: + Say, by this token, I desire his company + At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours + I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you + Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo + Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, + I am combined by a sacred vow + And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter: + Command these fretting waters from your eyes + With a light heart; trust not my holy order, + If I pervert your course. Who's here? + + [Enter LUCIO] + +LUCIO Good even. Friar, where's the provost? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Not within, sir. + +LUCIO O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see + thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain + to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for + my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set + me to 't. But they say the duke will be here + to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother: + if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been + at home, he had lived. + + [Exit ISABELLA] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your + reports; but the best is, he lives not in them. + +LUCIO Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do: + he's a better woodman than thou takest him for. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well. + +LUCIO Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee + I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. + +DUKE VINCENTIO You have told me too many of him already, sir, if + they be true; if not true, none were enough. + +LUCIO I was once before him for getting a wench with child. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Did you such a thing? + +LUCIO Yes, marry, did I but I was fain to forswear it; + they would else have married me to the rotten medlar. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. + +LUCIO By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end: + if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of + it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE IV A room in ANGELO's house. + + + [Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS] + +ESCALUS Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other. + +ANGELO In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions + show much like to madness: pray heaven his wisdom be + not tainted! And why meet him at the gates, and + redeliver our authorities there + +ESCALUS I guess not. + +ANGELO And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his + entering, that if any crave redress of injustice, + they should exhibit their petitions in the street? + +ESCALUS He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of + complaints, and to deliver us from devices + hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand + against us. + +ANGELO Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed betimes + i' the morn; I'll call you at your house: give + notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet + him. + +ESCALUS I shall, sir. Fare you well. + +ANGELO Good night. + + [Exit ESCALUS] + + This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant + And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid! + And by an eminent body that enforced + The law against it! But that her tender shame + Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, + How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no; + For my authority bears of a credent bulk, + That no particular scandal once can touch + But it confounds the breather. He should have lived, + Save that riotous youth, with dangerous sense, + Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge, + By so receiving a dishonour'd life + With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived! + A lack, when once our grace we have forgot, + Nothing goes right: we would, and we would not. + + [Exit] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE V Fields without the town. + + + [Enter DUKE VINCENTIO in his own habit, and FRIAR PETER] + +DUKE VINCENTIO These letters at fit time deliver me + + [Giving letters] + + The provost knows our purpose and our plot. + The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, + And hold you ever to our special drift; + Though sometimes you do blench from this to that, + As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius' house, + And tell him where I stay: give the like notice + To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, + And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; + But send me Flavius first. + +FRIAR PETER It shall be speeded well. + + [Exit] + + [Enter VARRIUS] + +DUKE VINCENTIO I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste: + Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends + Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE VI Street near the city gate. + + + [Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA] + +ISABELLA To speak so indirectly I am loath: + I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, + That is your part: yet I am advised to do it; + He says, to veil full purpose. + +MARIANA Be ruled by him. + +ISABELLA Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure + He speak against me on the adverse side, + I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physic + That's bitter to sweet end. + +MARIANA I would Friar Peter-- + +ISABELLA O, peace! the friar is come. + + [Enter FRIAR PETER] + +FRIAR PETER Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, + Where you may have such vantage on the duke, + He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded; + The generous and gravest citizens + Have hent the gates, and very near upon + The duke is entering: therefore, hence, away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + +ACT V + + +SCENE I The city gate. + + + [MARIANA veiled, ISABELLA, and FRIAR PETER, at their + stand. Enter DUKE VINCENTIO, VARRIUS, Lords, + ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and + Citizens, at several doors] + +DUKE VINCENTIO My very worthy cousin, fairly met! + Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. + + +ANGELO | + | Happy return be to your royal grace! +ESCALUS | + + +DUKE VINCENTIO Many and hearty thankings to you both. + We have made inquiry of you; and we hear + Such goodness of your justice, that our soul + Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, + Forerunning more requital. + +ANGELO You make my bonds still greater. + +DUKE VINCENTIO O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, + To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, + When it deserves, with characters of brass, + A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time + And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand, + And let the subject see, to make them know + That outward courtesies would fain proclaim + Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, + You must walk by us on our other hand; + And good supporters are you. + + [FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA come forward] + +FRIAR PETER Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him. + +ISABELLA Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard + Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid! + O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye + By throwing it on any other object + Till you have heard me in my true complaint + And given me justice, justice, justice, justice! + +DUKE VINCENTIO Relate your wrongs; in what? by whom? be brief. + Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice: + Reveal yourself to him. + +ISABELLA O worthy duke, + You bid me seek redemption of the devil: + Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak + Must either punish me, not being believed, + Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, here! + +ANGELO My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: + She hath been a suitor to me for her brother + Cut off by course of justice,-- + +ISABELLA By course of justice! + +ANGELO And she will speak most bitterly and strange. + +ISABELLA Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: + That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? + That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange? + That Angelo is an adulterous thief, + An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; + Is it not strange and strange? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Nay, it is ten times strange. + +ISABELLA It is not truer he is Angelo + Than this is all as true as it is strange: + Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth + To the end of reckoning. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Away with her! Poor soul, + She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. + +ISABELLA O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest + There is another comfort than this world, + That thou neglect me not, with that opinion + That I am touch'd with madness! Make not impossible + That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible + But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, + May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute + As Angelo; even so may Angelo, + In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, + Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: + If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, + Had I more name for badness. + +DUKE VINCENTIO By mine honesty, + If she be mad,--as I believe no other,-- + Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, + Such a dependency of thing on thing, + As e'er I heard in madness. + +ISABELLA O gracious duke, + Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason + For inequality; but let your reason serve + To make the truth appear where it seems hid, + And hide the false seems true. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Many that are not mad + Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? + +ISABELLA I am the sister of one Claudio, + Condemn'd upon the act of fornication + To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: + I, in probation of a sisterhood, + Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio + As then the messenger,-- + +LUCIO That's I, an't like your grace: + I came to her from Claudio, and desired her + To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo + For her poor brother's pardon. + +ISABELLA That's he indeed. + +DUKE VINCENTIO You were not bid to speak. + +LUCIO No, my good lord; + Nor wish'd to hold my peace. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I wish you now, then; + Pray you, take note of it: and when you have + A business for yourself, pray heaven you then + Be perfect. + +LUCIO I warrant your honour. + +DUKE VINCENTIO The warrants for yourself; take heed to't. + +ISABELLA This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,-- + +LUCIO Right. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It may be right; but you are i' the wrong + To speak before your time. Proceed. + +ISABELLA I went + To this pernicious caitiff deputy,-- + +DUKE VINCENTIO That's somewhat madly spoken. + +ISABELLA Pardon it; + The phrase is to the matter. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Mended again. The matter; proceed. + +ISABELLA In brief, to set the needless process by, + How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, + How he refell'd me, and how I replied,-- + For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion + I now begin with grief and shame to utter: + He would not, but by gift of my chaste body + To his concupiscible intemperate lust, + Release my brother; and, after much debatement, + My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, + And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes, + His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant + For my poor brother's head. + +DUKE VINCENTIO This is most likely! + +ISABELLA O, that it were as like as it is true! + +DUKE VINCENTIO By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st, + Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour + In hateful practise. First, his integrity + Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason + That with such vehemency he should pursue + Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, + He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself + And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on: + Confess the truth, and say by whose advice + Thou camest here to complain. + +ISABELLA And is this all? + Then, O you blessed ministers above, + Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time + Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up + In countenance! Heaven shield your grace from woe, + As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! + +DUKE VINCENTIO I know you'ld fain be gone. An officer! + To prison with her! Shall we thus permit + A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall + On him so near us? This needs must be a practise. + Who knew of Your intent and coming hither? + +ISABELLA One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. + +DUKE VINCENTIO A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? + +LUCIO My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar; + I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord + For certain words he spake against your grace + In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Words against me? this is a good friar, belike! + And to set on this wretched woman here + Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. + +LUCIO But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, + I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, + A very scurvy fellow. + +FRIAR PETER Blessed be your royal grace! + I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard + Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman + Most wrongfully accused your substitute, + Who is as free from touch or soil with her + As she from one ungot. + +DUKE VINCENTIO We did believe no less. + Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? + +FRIAR PETER I know him for a man divine and holy; + Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, + As he's reported by this gentleman; + And, on my trust, a man that never yet + Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. + +LUCIO My lord, most villanously; believe it. + +FRIAR PETER Well, he in time may come to clear himself; + But at this instant he is sick my lord, + Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, + Being come to knowledge that there was complaint + Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, + To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know + Is true and false; and what he with his oath + And all probation will make up full clear, + Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman. + To justify this worthy nobleman, + So vulgarly and personally accused, + Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, + Till she herself confess it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Good friar, let's hear it. + + [ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and MARIANA comes forward] + + Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? + O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! + Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; + In this I'll be impartial; be you judge + Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar? + First, let her show her face, and after speak. + +MARIANA Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face + Until my husband bid me. + +DUKE VINCENTIO What, are you married? + +MARIANA No, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Are you a maid? + +MARIANA No, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO A widow, then? + +MARIANA Neither, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife? + +LUCIO My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are + neither maid, widow, nor wife. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause + To prattle for himself. + +LUCIO Well, my lord. + +MARIANA My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married; + And I confess besides I am no maid: + I have known my husband; yet my husband + Knows not that ever he knew me. + +LUCIO He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better. + +DUKE VINCENTIO For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! + +LUCIO Well, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO This is no witness for Lord Angelo. + +MARIANA Now I come to't my lord + She that accuses him of fornication, + In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, + And charges him my lord, with such a time + When I'll depose I had him in mine arms + With all the effect of love. + +ANGELO Charges she more than me? + +MARIANA Not that I know. + +DUKE VINCENTIO No? you say your husband. + +MARIANA Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, + Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, + But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. + +ANGELO This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. + +MARIANA My husband bids me; now I will unmask. + + [Unveiling] + + This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, + Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on; + This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, + Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body + That took away the match from Isabel, + And did supply thee at thy garden-house + In her imagined person. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Know you this woman? + +LUCIO Carnally, she says. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Sirrah, no more! + +LUCIO Enough, my lord. + +ANGELO My lord, I must confess I know this woman: + And five years since there was some speech of marriage + Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, + Partly for that her promised proportions + Came short of composition, but in chief + For that her reputation was disvalued + In levity: since which time of five years + I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, + Upon my faith and honour. + +MARIANA Noble prince, + As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, + As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, + I am affianced this man's wife as strongly + As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, + But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house + He knew me as a wife. As this is true, + Let me in safety raise me from my knees + Or else for ever be confixed here, + A marble monument! + +ANGELO I did but smile till now: + Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice + My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive + These poor informal women are no more + But instruments of some more mightier member + That sets them on: let me have way, my lord, + To find this practise out. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Ay, with my heart + And punish them to your height of pleasure. + Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, + Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy oaths, + Though they would swear down each particular saint, + Were testimonies against his worth and credit + That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Escalus, + Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains + To find out this abuse, whence 'tis derived. + There is another friar that set them on; + Let him be sent for. + +FRIAR PETER Would he were here, my lord! for he indeed + Hath set the women on to this complaint: + Your provost knows the place where he abides + And he may fetch him. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Go do it instantly. + + [Exit Provost] + + And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, + Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, + Do with your injuries as seems you best, + In any chastisement: I for a while will leave you; + But stir not you till you have well determined + Upon these slanderers. + +ESCALUS My lord, we'll do it throughly. + + [Exit DUKE] + + Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that + Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? + +LUCIO 'Cucullus non facit monachum:' honest in nothing + but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most + villanous speeches of the duke. + +ESCALUS We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and + enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a + notable fellow. + +LUCIO As any in Vienna, on my word. + +ESCALUS Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with her. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you + shall see how I'll handle her. + +LUCIO Not better than he, by her own report. + +ESCALUS Say you? + +LUCIO Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, + she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly, + she'll be ashamed. + +ESCALUS I will go darkly to work with her. + +LUCIO That's the way; for women are light at midnight. + + [Re-enter Officers with ISABELLA; and Provost with + the DUKE VINCENTIO in his friar's habit] + +ESCALUS Come on, mistress: here's a gentlewoman denies all + that you have said. + +LUCIO My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of; here with + the provost. + +ESCALUS In very good time: speak not you to him till we + call upon you. + +LUCIO Mum. + +ESCALUS Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander + Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did. + +DUKE VINCENTIO 'Tis false. + +ESCALUS How! know you where you are? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Respect to your great place! and let the devil + Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne! + Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me speak. + +ESCALUS The duke's in us; and we will hear you speak: + Look you speak justly. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, + Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox? + Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone? + Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust, + Thus to retort your manifest appeal, + And put your trial in the villain's mouth + Which here you come to accuse. + +LUCIO This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. + +ESCALUS Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar, + Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these women + To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth + And in the witness of his proper ear, + To call him villain? and then to glance from him + To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice? + Take him hence; to the rack with him! We'll touse you + Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. + What 'unjust'! + +DUKE VINCENTIO Be not so hot; the duke + Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he + Dare rack his own: his subject am I not, + Nor here provincial. My business in this state + Made me a looker on here in Vienna, + Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble + Till it o'er-run the stew; laws for all faults, + But faults so countenanced, that the strong statutes + Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, + As much in mock as mark. + +ESCALUS Slander to the state! Away with him to prison! + +ANGELO What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? + Is this the man that you did tell us of? + +LUCIO 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman baldpate: + do you know me? + +DUKE VINCENTIO I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I + met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke. + +LUCIO O, did you so? And do you remember what you said of the duke? + +DUKE VINCENTIO Most notedly, sir. + +LUCIO Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a + fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? + +DUKE VINCENTIO You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make + that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and + much more, much worse. + +LUCIO O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the + nose for thy speeches? + +DUKE VINCENTIO I protest I love the duke as I love myself. + +ANGELO Hark, how the villain would close now, after his + treasonable abuses! + +ESCALUS Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with + him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him + to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him + speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and + with the other confederate companion! + +DUKE VINCENTIO [To Provost] Stay, sir; stay awhile. + +ANGELO What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. + +LUCIO Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you + bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must + you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! + show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! + Will't not off? + + [Pulls off the friar's hood, and discovers DUKE + VINCENTIO] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke. + First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. + + [To LUCIO] + + Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you + Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. + +LUCIO This may prove worse than hanging. + +DUKE VINCENTIO [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon: sit you down: + We'll borrow place of him. + + [To ANGELO] + + Sir, by your leave. + Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, + That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, + Rely upon it till my tale be heard, + And hold no longer out. + +ANGELO O my dread lord, + I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, + To think I can be undiscernible, + When I perceive your grace, like power divine, + Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince, + No longer session hold upon my shame, + But let my trial be mine own confession: + Immediate sentence then and sequent death + Is all the grace I beg. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Mariana. + Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? + +ANGELO I was, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. + Do you the office, friar; which consummate, + Return him here again. Go with him, provost. + + [Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER and Provost] + +ESCALUS My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour + Than at the strangeness of it. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Come hither, Isabel. + Your friar is now your prince: as I was then + Advertising and holy to your business, + Not changing heart with habit, I am still + Attorney'd at your service. + +ISABELLA O, give me pardon, + That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd + Your unknown sovereignty! + +DUKE VINCENTIO You are pardon'd, Isabel: + And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. + Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; + And you may marvel why I obscured myself, + Labouring to save his life, and would not rather + Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power + Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, + It was the swift celerity of his death, + Which I did think with slower foot came on, + That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him! + That life is better life, past fearing death, + Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, + So happy is your brother. + +ISABELLA I do, my lord. + + [Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and Provost] + +DUKE VINCENTIO For this new-married man approaching here, + Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd + Your well defended honour, you must pardon + For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,-- + Being criminal, in double violation + Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach + Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,-- + The very mercy of the law cries out + Most audible, even from his proper tongue, + 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' + Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; + Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE. + Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; + Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. + We do condemn thee to the very block + Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. + Away with him! + +MARIANA O my most gracious lord, + I hope you will not mock me with a husband. + +DUKE VINCENTIO It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. + Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, + I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, + For that he knew you, might reproach your life + And choke your good to come; for his possessions, + Although by confiscation they are ours, + We do instate and widow you withal, + To buy you a better husband. + +MARIANA O my dear lord, + I crave no other, nor no better man. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Never crave him; we are definitive. + +MARIANA Gentle my liege,-- + + [Kneeling] + +DUKE VINCENTIO You do but lose your labour. + Away with him to death! + + [To LUCIO] + + Now, sir, to you. + +MARIANA O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; + Lend me your knees, and all my life to come + I'll lend you all my life to do you service. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Against all sense you do importune her: + Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, + Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, + And take her hence in horror. + +MARIANA Isabel, + Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; + Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. + They say, best men are moulded out of faults; + And, for the most, become much more the better + For being a little bad: so may my husband. + O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? + +DUKE VINCENTIO He dies for Claudio's death. + +ISABELLA Most bounteous sir, + + [Kneeling] + + Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, + As if my brother lived: I partly think + A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, + Till he did look on me: since it is so, + Let him not die. My brother had but justice, + In that he did the thing for which he died: + For Angelo, + His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, + And must be buried but as an intent + That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects; + Intents but merely thoughts. + +MARIANA Merely, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. + I have bethought me of another fault. + Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded + At an unusual hour? + +Provost It was commanded so. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Had you a special warrant for the deed? + +Provost No, my good lord; it was by private message. + +DUKE VINCENTIO For which I do discharge you of your office: + Give up your keys. + +Provost Pardon me, noble lord: + I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; + Yet did repent me, after more advice; + For testimony whereof, one in the prison, + That should by private order else have died, + I have reserved alive. + +DUKE VINCENTIO What's he? + +Provost His name is Barnardine. + +DUKE VINCENTIO I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. + Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. + + [Exit Provost] + +ESCALUS I am sorry, one so learned and so wise + As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, + Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. + And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. + +ANGELO I am sorry that such sorrow I procure: + And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart + That I crave death more willingly than mercy; + 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. + + [Re-enter Provost, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO muffled, + and JULIET] + +DUKE VINCENTIO Which is that Barnardine? + +Provost This, my lord. + +DUKE VINCENTIO There was a friar told me of this man. + Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. + That apprehends no further than this world, + And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd: + But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; + And pray thee take this mercy to provide + For better times to come. Friar, advise him; + I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that? + +Provost This is another prisoner that I saved. + Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; + As like almost to Claudio as himself. + + [Unmuffles CLAUDIO] + +DUKE VINCENTIO [To ISABELLA] If he be like your brother, for his sake + Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake, + Give me your hand and say you will be mine. + He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. + By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; + Methinks I see a quickening in his eye. + Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: + Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. + I find an apt remission in myself; + And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. + + [To LUCIO] + + You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, + One all of luxury, an ass, a madman; + Wherein have I so deserved of you, + That you extol me thus? + +LUCIO 'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the + trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I + had rather it would please you I might be whipt. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. + Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. + Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow, + As I have heard him swear himself there's one + Whom he begot with child, let her appear, + And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, + Let him be whipt and hang'd. + +LUCIO I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. + Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: + good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. + Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal + Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; + And see our pleasure herein executed. + +LUCIO Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, + whipping, and hanging. + +DUKE VINCENTIO Slandering a prince deserves it. + + [Exit Officers with LUCIO] + + She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. + Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: + I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. + Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: + There's more behind that is more gratulate. + Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy: + We shill employ thee in a worthier place. + Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home + The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: + The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, + I have a motion much imports your good; + Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, + What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine. + So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show + What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. + + [Exeunt] + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +The DUKE OF VENICE. (DUKE:) + + +The PRINCE OF | +MOROCCO (MOROCCO:) | + | suitors to Portia. +The PRINCE OF | +ARRAGON (ARRAGON:) | + + +ANTONIO a merchant of Venice. + +BASSANIO his friend, suitor likewise to Portia. + + +SALANIO | + | +SALARINO | + | friends to Antonio and Bassanio. +GRATIANO | + | +SALERIO | + + +LORENZO in love with Jessica. + +SHYLOCK a rich Jew. + +TUBAL a Jew, his friend. + +LAUNCELOT GOBBO the clown, servant to SHYLOCK. (LAUNCELOT:) + +OLD GOBBO father to Launcelot. (GOBBO:) + +LEONARDO servant to BASSANIO. + + +BALTHASAR | + | servants to PORTIA. +STEPHANO | + + +PORTIA a rich heiress. + +NERISSA her waiting-maid. + +JESSICA daughter to SHYLOCK. + + Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the Court of Justice, + Gaoler, Servants to Portia, and other Attendants. + (Servant:) + (Clerk:) + +SCENE Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, + the seat of PORTIA, on the Continent. + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Venice. A street. + + + [Enter ANTONIO, SALARINO, and SALANIO] + +ANTONIO In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: + It wearies me; you say it wearies you; + But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, + What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, + I am to learn; + And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, + That I have much ado to know myself. + +SALARINO Your mind is tossing on the ocean; + There, where your argosies with portly sail, + Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, + Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, + Do overpeer the petty traffickers, + That curtsy to them, do them reverence, + As they fly by them with their woven wings. + +SALANIO Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, + The better part of my affections would + Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still + Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind, + Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads; + And every object that might make me fear + Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt + Would make me sad. + +SALARINO My wind cooling my broth + Would blow me to an ague, when I thought + What harm a wind too great at sea might do. + I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, + But I should think of shallows and of flats, + And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, + Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs + To kiss her burial. Should I go to church + And see the holy edifice of stone, + And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, + Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, + Would scatter all her spices on the stream, + Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, + And, in a word, but even now worth this, + And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought + To think on this, and shall I lack the thought + That such a thing bechanced would make me sad? + But tell not me; I know, Antonio + Is sad to think upon his merchandise. + +ANTONIO Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it, + My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, + Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate + Upon the fortune of this present year: + Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. + +SALARINO Why, then you are in love. + +ANTONIO Fie, fie! + +SALARINO Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad, + Because you are not merry: and 'twere as easy + For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, + Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, + Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: + Some that will evermore peep through their eyes + And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, + And other of such vinegar aspect + That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, + Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. + + [Enter BASSANIO, LORENZO, and GRATIANO] + +SALANIO Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, + Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well: + We leave you now with better company. + +SALARINO I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, + If worthier friends had not prevented me. + +ANTONIO Your worth is very dear in my regard. + I take it, your own business calls on you + And you embrace the occasion to depart. + +SALARINO Good morrow, my good lords. + +BASSANIO Good signiors both, when shall we laugh? say, when? + You grow exceeding strange: must it be so? + +SALARINO We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. + + [Exeunt Salarino and Salanio] + +LORENZO My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, + We two will leave you: but at dinner-time, + I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. + +BASSANIO I will not fail you. + +GRATIANO You look not well, Signior Antonio; + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it that do buy it with much care: + Believe me, you are marvellously changed. + +ANTONIO I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; + A stage where every man must play a part, + And mine a sad one. + +GRATIANO Let me play the fool: + With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, + And let my liver rather heat with wine + Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. + Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, + Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? + Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice + By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio-- + I love thee, and it is my love that speaks-- + There are a sort of men whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a wilful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say 'I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips let no dog bark!' + O my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore only are reputed wise + For saying nothing; when, I am very sure, + If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + I'll tell thee more of this another time: + But fish not, with this melancholy bait, + For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. + Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile: + I'll end my exhortation after dinner. + +LORENZO Well, we will leave you then till dinner-time: + I must be one of these same dumb wise men, + For Gratiano never lets me speak. + +GRATIANO Well, keep me company but two years moe, + Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. + +ANTONIO Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. + +GRATIANO Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable + In a neat's tongue dried and a maid not vendible. + + [Exeunt GRATIANO and LORENZO] + +ANTONIO Is that any thing now? + +BASSANIO Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more + than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two + grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you + shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you + have them, they are not worth the search. + +ANTONIO Well, tell me now what lady is the same + To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, + That you to-day promised to tell me of? + +BASSANIO 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, + How much I have disabled mine estate, + By something showing a more swelling port + Than my faint means would grant continuance: + Nor do I now make moan to be abridged + From such a noble rate; but my chief care + Is to come fairly off from the great debts + Wherein my time something too prodigal + Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, + I owe the most, in money and in love, + And from your love I have a warranty + To unburden all my plots and purposes + How to get clear of all the debts I owe. + +ANTONIO I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; + And if it stand, as you yourself still do, + Within the eye of honour, be assured, + My purse, my person, my extremest means, + Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. + +BASSANIO In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, + I shot his fellow of the self-same flight + The self-same way with more advised watch, + To find the other forth, and by adventuring both + I oft found both: I urge this childhood proof, + Because what follows is pure innocence. + I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, + That which I owe is lost; but if you please + To shoot another arrow that self way + Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, + As I will watch the aim, or to find both + Or bring your latter hazard back again + And thankfully rest debtor for the first. + +ANTONIO You know me well, and herein spend but time + To wind about my love with circumstance; + And out of doubt you do me now more wrong + In making question of my uttermost + Than if you had made waste of all I have: + Then do but say to me what I should do + That in your knowledge may by me be done, + And I am prest unto it: therefore, speak. + +BASSANIO In Belmont is a lady richly left; + And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, + Of wondrous virtues: sometimes from her eyes + I did receive fair speechless messages: + Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued + To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia: + Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, + For the four winds blow in from every coast + Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks + Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; + Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand, + And many Jasons come in quest of her. + O my Antonio, had I but the means + To hold a rival place with one of them, + I have a mind presages me such thrift, + That I should questionless be fortunate! + +ANTONIO Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea; + Neither have I money nor commodity + To raise a present sum: therefore go forth; + Try what my credit can in Venice do: + That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, + To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. + Go, presently inquire, and so will I, + Where money is, and I no question make + To have it of my trust or for my sake. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II: Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Enter PORTIA and NERISSA] + +PORTIA By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of + this great world. + +NERISSA You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in + the same abundance as your good fortunes are: and + yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit + with too much as they that starve with nothing. It + is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the + mean: superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but + competency lives longer. + +PORTIA Good sentences and well pronounced. + +NERISSA They would be better, if well followed. + +PORTIA If to do were as easy as to know what were good to + do, chapels had been churches and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a hare is madness the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the + cripple. But this reasoning is not in the fashion to + choose me a husband. O me, the word 'choose!' I may + neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I + dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed + by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, + Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor refuse none? + +NERISSA Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at their + death have good inspirations: therefore the lottery, + that he hath devised in these three chests of gold, + silver and lead, whereof who chooses his meaning + chooses you, will, no doubt, never be chosen by any + rightly but one who shall rightly love. But what + warmth is there in your affection towards any of + these princely suitors that are already come? + +PORTIA I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest + them, I will describe them; and, according to my + description, level at my affection. + +NERISSA First, there is the Neapolitan prince. + +PORTIA Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but + talk of his horse; and he makes it a great + appropriation to his own good parts, that he can + shoe him himself. I am much afeard my lady his + mother played false with a smith. + +NERISSA Then there is the County Palatine. + +PORTIA He doth nothing but frown, as who should say 'If you + will not have me, choose:' he hears merry tales and + smiles not: I fear he will prove the weeping + philosopher when he grows old, being so full of + unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be + married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth + than to either of these. God defend me from these + two! + +NERISSA How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon? + +PORTIA God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. + In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, + he! why, he hath a horse better than the + Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of frowning than + the Count Palatine; he is every man in no man; if a + throstle sing, he falls straight a capering: he will + fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I + should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise me + I would forgive him, for if he love me to madness, I + shall never requite him. + +NERISSA What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young baron + of England? + +PORTIA You know I say nothing to him, for he understands + not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, + nor Italian, and you will come into the court and + swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. + He is a proper man's picture, but, alas, who can + converse with a dumb-show? How oddly he is suited! + I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round + hose in France, his bonnet in Germany and his + behavior every where. + +NERISSA What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour? + +PORTIA That he hath a neighbourly charity in him, for he + borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and + swore he would pay him again when he was able: I + think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed + under for another. + +NERISSA How like you the young German, the Duke of Saxony's nephew? + +PORTIA Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and + most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk: when + he is best, he is a little worse than a man, and + when he is worst, he is little better than a beast: + and the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I shall + make shift to go without him. + +NERISSA If he should offer to choose, and choose the right + casket, you should refuse to perform your father's + will, if you should refuse to accept him. + +PORTIA Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a + deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket, + for if the devil be within and that temptation + without, I know he will choose it. I will do any + thing, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge. + +NERISSA You need not fear, lady, the having any of these + lords: they have acquainted me with their + determinations; which is, indeed, to return to their + home and to trouble you with no more suit, unless + you may be won by some other sort than your father's + imposition depending on the caskets. + +PORTIA If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as + chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner + of my father's will. I am glad this parcel of wooers + are so reasonable, for there is not one among them + but I dote on his very absence, and I pray God grant + them a fair departure. + +NERISSA Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a + Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither + in company of the Marquis of Montferrat? + +PORTIA Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, he was so called. + +NERISSA True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my foolish + eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. + +PORTIA I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of + thy praise. + + [Enter a Serving-man] + + How now! what news? + +Servant The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take + their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a + fifth, the Prince of Morocco, who brings word the + prince his master will be here to-night. + +PORTIA If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a + heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I should + be glad of his approach: if he have the condition + of a saint and the complexion of a devil, I had + rather he should shrive me than wive me. Come, + Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. + Whiles we shut the gates + upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III Venice. A public place. + + + [Enter BASSANIO and SHYLOCK] + +SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats; well. + +BASSANIO Ay, sir, for three months. + +SHYLOCK For three months; well. + +BASSANIO For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. + +SHYLOCK Antonio shall become bound; well. + +BASSANIO May you stead me? will you pleasure me? shall I + know your answer? + +SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats for three months and Antonio bound. + +BASSANIO Your answer to that. + +SHYLOCK Antonio is a good man. + +BASSANIO Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? + +SHYLOCK Oh, no, no, no, no: my meaning in saying he is a + good man is to have you understand me that he is + sufficient. Yet his means are in supposition: he + hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the + Indies; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he + hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and + other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships + are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats + and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves, I + mean pirates, and then there is the peril of waters, + winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, + sufficient. Three thousand ducats; I think I may + take his bond. + +BASSANIO Be assured you may. + +SHYLOCK I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, + I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? + +BASSANIO If it please you to dine with us. + +SHYLOCK Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the habitation which + your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I + will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, + walk with you, and so following, but I will not eat + with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What + news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here? + + [Enter ANTONIO] + +BASSANIO This is Signior Antonio. + +SHYLOCK [Aside] How like a fawning publican he looks! + I hate him for he is a Christian, + But more for that in low simplicity + He lends out money gratis and brings down + The rate of usance here with us in Venice. + If I can catch him once upon the hip, + I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. + He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, + Even there where merchants most do congregate, + On me, my bargains and my well-won thrift, + Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, + If I forgive him! + +BASSANIO Shylock, do you hear? + +SHYLOCK I am debating of my present store, + And, by the near guess of my memory, + I cannot instantly raise up the gross + Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? + Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, + Will furnish me. But soft! how many months + Do you desire? + + [To ANTONIO] + + Rest you fair, good signior; + Your worship was the last man in our mouths. + +ANTONIO Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow + By taking nor by giving of excess, + Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, + I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd + How much ye would? + +SHYLOCK Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. + +ANTONIO And for three months. + +SHYLOCK I had forgot; three months; you told me so. + Well then, your bond; and let me see; but hear you; + Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow + Upon advantage. + +ANTONIO I do never use it. + +SHYLOCK When Jacob grazed his uncle Laban's sheep-- + This Jacob from our holy Abram was, + As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, + The third possessor; ay, he was the third-- + +ANTONIO And what of him? did he take interest? + +SHYLOCK No, not take interest, not, as you would say, + Directly interest: mark what Jacob did. + When Laban and himself were compromised + That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied + Should fall as Jacob's hire, the ewes, being rank, + In the end of autumn turned to the rams, + And, when the work of generation was + Between these woolly breeders in the act, + The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, + And, in the doing of the deed of kind, + He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, + Who then conceiving did in eaning time + Fall parti-colour'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. + This was a way to thrive, and he was blest: + And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. + +ANTONIO This was a venture, sir, that Jacob served for; + A thing not in his power to bring to pass, + But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. + Was this inserted to make interest good? + Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams? + +SHYLOCK I cannot tell; I make it breed as fast: + But note me, signior. + +ANTONIO Mark you this, Bassanio, + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul producing holy witness + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, + A goodly apple rotten at the heart: + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + +SHYLOCK Three thousand ducats; 'tis a good round sum. + Three months from twelve; then, let me see; the rate-- + +ANTONIO Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you? + +SHYLOCK Signior Antonio, many a time and oft + In the Rialto you have rated me + About my moneys and my usances: + Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, + For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. + You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, + And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, + And all for use of that which is mine own. + Well then, it now appears you need my help: + Go to, then; you come to me, and you say + 'Shylock, we would have moneys:' you say so; + You, that did void your rheum upon my beard + And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur + Over your threshold: moneys is your suit + What should I say to you? Should I not say + 'Hath a dog money? is it possible + A cur can lend three thousand ducats?' Or + Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, + With bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this; + 'Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; + You spurn'd me such a day; another time + You call'd me dog; and for these courtesies + I'll lend you thus much moneys'? + +ANTONIO I am as like to call thee so again, + To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. + If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not + As to thy friends; for when did friendship take + A breed for barren metal of his friend? + But lend it rather to thine enemy, + Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face + Exact the penalty. + +SHYLOCK Why, look you, how you storm! + I would be friends with you and have your love, + Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, + Supply your present wants and take no doit + Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me: + This is kind I offer. + + +BASSANIO This were kindness. + +SHYLOCK This kindness will I show. + Go with me to a notary, seal me there + Your single bond; and, in a merry sport, + If you repay me not on such a day, + In such a place, such sum or sums as are + Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit + Be nominated for an equal pound + Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken + In what part of your body pleaseth me. + +ANTONIO Content, i' faith: I'll seal to such a bond + And say there is much kindness in the Jew. + +BASSANIO You shall not seal to such a bond for me: + I'll rather dwell in my necessity. + +ANTONIO Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it: + Within these two months, that's a month before + This bond expires, I do expect return + Of thrice three times the value of this bond. + +SHYLOCK O father Abram, what these Christians are, + Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect + The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this; + If he should break his day, what should I gain + By the exaction of the forfeiture? + A pound of man's flesh taken from a man + Is not so estimable, profitable neither, + As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, + To buy his favour, I extend this friendship: + If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; + And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. + +ANTONIO Yes Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. + +SHYLOCK Then meet me forthwith at the notary's; + Give him direction for this merry bond, + And I will go and purse the ducats straight, + See to my house, left in the fearful guard + Of an unthrifty knave, and presently + I will be with you. + +ANTONIO Hie thee, gentle Jew. + + [Exit Shylock] + + The Hebrew will turn Christian: he grows kind. + +BASSANIO I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. + +ANTONIO Come on: in this there can be no dismay; + My ships come home a month before the day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF MOROCCO + and his train; PORTIA, NERISSA, and others + attending] + +MOROCCO Mislike me not for my complexion, + The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, + To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. + Bring me the fairest creature northward born, + Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, + And let us make incision for your love, + To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. + I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine + Hath fear'd the valiant: by my love I swear + The best-regarded virgins of our clime + Have loved it too: I would not change this hue, + Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. + +PORTIA In terms of choice I am not solely led + By nice direction of a maiden's eyes; + Besides, the lottery of my destiny + Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: + But if my father had not scanted me + And hedged me by his wit, to yield myself + His wife who wins me by that means I told you, + Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair + As any comer I have look'd on yet + For my affection. + +MOROCCO Even for that I thank you: + Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets + To try my fortune. By this scimitar + That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince + That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, + I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, + Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, + Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, + Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, + To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! + If Hercules and Lichas play at dice + Which is the better man, the greater throw + May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: + So is Alcides beaten by his page; + And so may I, blind fortune leading me, + Miss that which one unworthier may attain, + And die with grieving. + +PORTIA You must take your chance, + And either not attempt to choose at all + Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong + Never to speak to lady afterward + In way of marriage: therefore be advised. + +MOROCCO Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. + +PORTIA First, forward to the temple: after dinner + Your hazard shall be made. + +MOROCCO Good fortune then! + To make me blest or cursed'st among men. + + [Cornets, and exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Venice. A street. + + + [Enter LAUNCELOT] + +LAUNCELOT Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from + this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and + tempts me saying to me 'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good + Launcelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good Launcelot + Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My + conscience says 'No; take heed,' honest Launcelot; + take heed, honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest + Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy + heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend bids me + pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the + fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,' + says the fiend, 'and run.' Well, my conscience, + hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely + to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest + man's son,' or rather an honest woman's son; for, + indeed, my father did something smack, something + grow to, he had a kind of taste; well, my conscience + says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,' says the + fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience. + 'Conscience,' say I, 'you counsel well;' ' Fiend,' + say I, 'you counsel well:' to be ruled by my + conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, + who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to + run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the + fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil + himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil + incarnal; and, in my conscience, my conscience is + but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel + me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more + friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my heels are + at your command; I will run. + + [Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket] + +GOBBO Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way + to master Jew's? + +LAUNCELOT [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! + who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, + knows me not: I will try confusions with him. + +GOBBO Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way + to master Jew's? + +LAUNCELOT Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but, + at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at + the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn + down indirectly to the Jew's house. + +GOBBO By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can + you tell me whether one Launcelot, + that dwells with him, dwell with him or no? + +LAUNCELOT Talk you of young Master Launcelot? + + [Aside] + + Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you + of young Master Launcelot? + +GOBBO No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father, + though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man + and, God be thanked, well to live. + +LAUNCELOT Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of + young Master Launcelot. + +GOBBO Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. + +LAUNCELOT But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, + talk you of young Master Launcelot? + +GOBBO Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. + +LAUNCELOT Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master + Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, + according to Fates and Destinies and such odd + sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of + learning, is indeed deceased, or, as you would say + in plain terms, gone to heaven. + +GOBBO Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my + age, my very prop. + +LAUNCELOT Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or + a prop? Do you know me, father? + +GOBBO Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman: + but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his + soul, alive or dead? + +LAUNCELOT Do you not know me, father? + +GOBBO Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not. + +LAUNCELOT Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of + the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his + own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of + your son: give me your blessing: truth will come + to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son + may, but at the length truth will out. + +GOBBO Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not + Launcelot, my boy. + +LAUNCELOT Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but + give me your blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy + that was, your son that is, your child that shall + be. + +GOBBO I cannot think you are my son. + +LAUNCELOT I know not what I shall think of that: but I am + Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your + wife is my mother. + +GOBBO Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou + be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. + Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou + got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than + Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail. + +LAUNCELOT It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows + backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail + than I have of my face when I last saw him. + +GOBBO Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy + master agree? I have brought him a present. How + 'gree you now? + +LAUNCELOT Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set + up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I + have run some ground. My master's a very Jew: give + him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in + his service; you may tell every finger I have with + my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me + your present to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, + gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, I + will run as far as God has any ground. O rare + fortune! here comes the man: to him, father; for I + am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. + + [Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers] + +BASSANIO You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper + be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See + these letters delivered; put the liveries to making, + and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. + + [Exit a Servant] + +LAUNCELOT To him, father. + +GOBBO God bless your worship! + +BASSANIO Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? + +GOBBO Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,-- + +LAUNCELOT Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that + would, sir, as my father shall specify-- + +GOBBO He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve-- + +LAUNCELOT Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, + and have a desire, as my father shall specify-- + +GOBBO His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, + are scarce cater-cousins-- + +LAUNCELOT To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having + done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I + hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you-- + +GOBBO I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon + your worship, and my suit is-- + +LAUNCELOT In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as + your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, + though I say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father. + +BASSANIO One speak for both. What would you? + +LAUNCELOT Serve you, sir. + +GOBBO That is the very defect of the matter, sir. + +BASSANIO I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit: + Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, + And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment + To leave a rich Jew's service, to become + The follower of so poor a gentleman. + +LAUNCELOT The old proverb is very well parted between my + master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of + God, sir, and he hath enough. + +BASSANIO Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. + Take leave of thy old master and inquire + My lodging out. Give him a livery + More guarded than his fellows': see it done. + +LAUNCELOT Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have + ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in + Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear + upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go to, + here's a simple line of life: here's a small trifle + of wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven + widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one + man: and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be + in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed; + here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a + woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, + come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. + + [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo] + +BASSANIO I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this: + These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, + Return in haste, for I do feast to-night + My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go. + +LEONARDO My best endeavours shall be done herein. + + [Enter GRATIANO] + +GRATIANO Where is your master? + +LEONARDO Yonder, sir, he walks. + + [Exit] + +GRATIANO Signior Bassanio! + +BASSANIO Gratiano! + +GRATIANO I have a suit to you. + +BASSANIO You have obtain'd it. + +GRATIANO You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont. + +BASSANIO Why then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano; + Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice; + Parts that become thee happily enough + And in such eyes as ours appear not faults; + But where thou art not known, why, there they show + Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain + To allay with some cold drops of modesty + Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior + I be misconstrued in the place I go to, + And lose my hopes. + +GRATIANO Signior Bassanio, hear me: + If I do not put on a sober habit, + Talk with respect and swear but now and then, + Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely, + Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes + Thus with my hat, and sigh and say 'amen,' + Use all the observance of civility, + Like one well studied in a sad ostent + To please his grandam, never trust me more. + +BASSANIO Well, we shall see your bearing. + +GRATIANO Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me + By what we do to-night. + +BASSANIO No, that were pity: + I would entreat you rather to put on + Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends + That purpose merriment. But fare you well: + I have some business. + +GRATIANO And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: + But we will visit you at supper-time. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. A room in SHYLOCK'S house. + + + [Enter JESSICA and LAUNCELOT] + +JESSICA I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so: + Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, + Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. + But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee: + And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see + Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest: + Give him this letter; do it secretly; + And so farewell: I would not have my father + See me in talk with thee. + +LAUNCELOT Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful + pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play + the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, + adieu: these foolish drops do something drown my + manly spirit: adieu. + +JESSICA Farewell, good Launcelot. + + [Exit Launcelot] + + Alack, what heinous sin is it in me + To be ashamed to be my father's child! + But though I am a daughter to his blood, + I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, + If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, + Become a Christian and thy loving wife. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV The same. A street. + + + [Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALARINO, and SALANIO] + +LORENZO Nay, we will slink away in supper-time, + Disguise us at my lodging and return, + All in an hour. + +GRATIANO We have not made good preparation. + +SALARINO We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers. + +SALANIO 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, + And better in my mind not undertook. + +LORENZO 'Tis now but four o'clock: we have two hours + To furnish us. + + [Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter] + + Friend Launcelot, what's the news? + +LAUNCELOT An it shall please you to break up + this, it shall seem to signify. + +LORENZO I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair hand; + And whiter than the paper it writ on + Is the fair hand that writ. + +GRATIANO Love-news, in faith. + +LAUNCELOT By your leave, sir. + +LORENZO Whither goest thou? + +LAUNCELOT Marry, sir, to bid my old master the + Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. + +LORENZO Hold here, take this: tell gentle Jessica + I will not fail her; speak it privately. + Go, gentlemen, + + [Exit Launcelot] + + Will you prepare you for this masque tonight? + I am provided of a torch-bearer. + +SALANIO Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. + +SALANIO And so will I. + +LORENZO Meet me and Gratiano + At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. + +SALARINO 'Tis good we do so. + + [Exeunt SALARINO and SALANIO] + +GRATIANO Was not that letter from fair Jessica? + +LORENZO I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed + How I shall take her from her father's house, + What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with, + What page's suit she hath in readiness. + If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, + It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: + And never dare misfortune cross her foot, + Unless she do it under this excuse, + That she is issue to a faithless Jew. + Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest: + Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V The same. Before SHYLOCK'S house. + + + [Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT] + +SHYLOCK Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, + The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio:-- + What, Jessica!--thou shalt not gormandise, + As thou hast done with me:--What, Jessica!-- + And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out;-- + Why, Jessica, I say! + +LAUNCELOT Why, Jessica! + +SHYLOCK Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call. + +LAUNCELOT Your worship was wont to tell me that + I could do nothing without bidding. + + [Enter Jessica] + +JESSICA Call you? what is your will? + +SHYLOCK I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: + There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? + I am not bid for love; they flatter me: + But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon + The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, + Look to my house. I am right loath to go: + There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, + For I did dream of money-bags to-night. + +LAUNCELOT I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth expect + your reproach. + +SHYLOCK So do I his. + +LAUNCELOT An they have conspired together, I will not say you + shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not + for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on + Black-Monday last at six o'clock i' the morning, + falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four + year, in the afternoon. + +SHYLOCK What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: + Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum + And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, + Clamber not you up to the casements then, + Nor thrust your head into the public street + To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces, + But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements: + Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter + My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear, + I have no mind of feasting forth to-night: + But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah; + Say I will come. + +LAUNCELOT I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at + window, for all this, There will come a Christian + boy, will be worth a Jewess' eye. + + [Exit] + +SHYLOCK What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? + + +JESSICA His words were 'Farewell mistress;' nothing else. + +SHYLOCK The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder; + Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day + More than the wild-cat: drones hive not with me; + Therefore I part with him, and part with him + To one that would have him help to waste + His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in; + Perhaps I will return immediately: + Do as I bid you; shut doors after you: + Fast bind, fast find; + A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. + + [Exit] + +JESSICA Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, + I have a father, you a daughter, lost. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI The same. + + + [Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued] + +GRATIANO This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo + Desired us to make stand. + +SALARINO His hour is almost past. + +GRATIANO And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, + For lovers ever run before the clock. + +SALARINO O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly + To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont + To keep obliged faith unforfeited! + +GRATIANO That ever holds: who riseth from a feast + With that keen appetite that he sits down? + Where is the horse that doth untread again + His tedious measures with the unbated fire + That he did pace them first? All things that are, + Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. + How like a younker or a prodigal + The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, + Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! + How like the prodigal doth she return, + With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, + Lean, rent and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! + +SALARINO Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter. + + [Enter LORENZO] + +LORENZO Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; + Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait: + When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, + I'll watch as long for you then. Approach; + Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within? + + [Enter JESSICA, above, in boy's clothes] + +JESSICA Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty, + Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. + +LORENZO Lorenzo, and thy love. + +JESSICA Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, + For who love I so much? And now who knows + But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? + +LORENZO Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. + +JESSICA Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. + I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, + For I am much ashamed of my exchange: + But love is blind and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit; + For if they could, Cupid himself would blush + To see me thus transformed to a boy. + +LORENZO Descend, for you must be my torchbearer. + +JESSICA What, must I hold a candle to my shames? + They in themselves, good-sooth, are too too light. + Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; + And I should be obscured. + +LORENZO So are you, sweet, + Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. + But come at once; + For the close night doth play the runaway, + And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. + +JESSICA I will make fast the doors, and gild myself + With some more ducats, and be with you straight. + + [Exit above] + +GRATIANO Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. + +LORENZO Beshrew me but I love her heartily; + For she is wise, if I can judge of her, + And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, + And true she is, as she hath proved herself, + And therefore, like herself, wise, fair and true, + Shall she be placed in my constant soul. + + [Enter JESSICA, below] + + What, art thou come? On, gentlemen; away! + Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. + + [Exit with Jessica and Salarino] + + [Enter ANTONIO] + +ANTONIO Who's there? + +GRATIANO Signior Antonio! + +ANTONIO Fie, fie, Gratiano! where are all the rest? + 'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you. + No masque to-night: the wind is come about; + Bassanio presently will go aboard: + I have sent twenty out to seek for you. + +GRATIANO I am glad on't: I desire no more delight + Than to be under sail and gone to-night. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VII Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the + PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and their trains] + +PORTIA Go draw aside the curtains and discover + The several caskets to this noble prince. + Now make your choice. + +MOROCCO The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;' + The second, silver, which this promise carries, + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;' + This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + How shall I know if I do choose the right? + +PORTIA The one of them contains my picture, prince: + If you choose that, then I am yours withal. + +MOROCCO Some god direct my judgment! Let me see; + I will survey the inscriptions back again. + What says this leaden casket? + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + Must give: for what? for lead? hazard for lead? + This casket threatens. Men that hazard all + Do it in hope of fair advantages: + A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross; + I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. + What says the silver with her virgin hue? + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco, + And weigh thy value with an even hand: + If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, + Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough + May not extend so far as to the lady: + And yet to be afeard of my deserving + Were but a weak disabling of myself. + As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady: + I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, + In graces and in qualities of breeding; + But more than these, in love I do deserve. + What if I stray'd no further, but chose here? + Let's see once more this saying graved in gold + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' + Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her; + From the four corners of the earth they come, + To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint: + The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds + Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now + For princes to come view fair Portia: + The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head + Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar + To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, + As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. + One of these three contains her heavenly picture. + Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation + To think so base a thought: it were too gross + To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. + Or shall I think in silver she's immured, + Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? + O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem + Was set in worse than gold. They have in England + A coin that bears the figure of an angel + Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon; + But here an angel in a golden bed + Lies all within. Deliver me the key: + Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! + +PORTIA There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there, + Then I am yours. + + [He unlocks the golden casket] + +MOROCCO O hell! what have we here? + A carrion Death, within whose empty eye + There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. + + [Reads] + + All that glitters is not gold; + Often have you heard that told: + Many a man his life hath sold + But my outside to behold: + Gilded tombs do worms enfold. + Had you been as wise as bold, + Young in limbs, in judgment old, + Your answer had not been inscroll'd: + Fare you well; your suit is cold. + Cold, indeed; and labour lost: + Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! + Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart + To take a tedious leave: thus losers part. + + [Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets] + +PORTIA A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. + Let all of his complexion choose me so. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VIII Venice. A street. + + + [Enter SALARINO and SALANIO] + +SALARINO Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: + With him is Gratiano gone along; + And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. + +SALANIO The villain Jew with outcries raised the duke, + Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. + +SALARINO He came too late, the ship was under sail: + But there the duke was given to understand + That in a gondola were seen together + Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica: + Besides, Antonio certified the duke + They were not with Bassanio in his ship. + +SALANIO I never heard a passion so confused, + So strange, outrageous, and so variable, + As the dog Jew did utter in the streets: + 'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter! + Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats! + Justice! the law! my ducats, and my daughter! + A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, + Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter! + And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, + Stolen by my daughter! Justice! find the girl; + She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.' + +SALARINO Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, + Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. + +SALANIO Let good Antonio look he keep his day, + Or he shall pay for this. + +SALARINO Marry, well remember'd. + I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday, + Who told me, in the narrow seas that part + The French and English, there miscarried + A vessel of our country richly fraught: + I thought upon Antonio when he told me; + And wish'd in silence that it were not his. + +SALANIO You were best to tell Antonio what you hear; + Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. + +SALARINO A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. + I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: + Bassanio told him he would make some speed + Of his return: he answer'd, 'Do not so; + Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio + But stay the very riping of the time; + And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, + Let it not enter in your mind of love: + Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts + To courtship and such fair ostents of love + As shall conveniently become you there:' + And even there, his eye being big with tears, + Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, + And with affection wondrous sensible + He wrung Bassanio's hand; and so they parted. + +SALANIO I think he only loves the world for him. + I pray thee, let us go and find him out + And quicken his embraced heaviness + With some delight or other. + +SALARINO Do we so. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IX Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Enter NERISSA with a Servitor] + +NERISSA Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight: + The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, + And comes to his election presently. + + [Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, + PORTIA, and their trains] + +PORTIA Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: + If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, + Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: + But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, + You must be gone from hence immediately. + +ARRAGON I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: + First, never to unfold to any one + Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail + Of the right casket, never in my life + To woo a maid in way of marriage: Lastly, + If I do fail in fortune of my choice, + Immediately to leave you and be gone. + +PORTIA To these injunctions every one doth swear + That comes to hazard for my worthless self. + +ARRAGON And so have I address'd me. Fortune now + To my heart's hope! Gold; silver; and base lead. + 'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.' + You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. + What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: + 'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.' + What many men desire! that 'many' may be meant + By the fool multitude, that choose by show, + Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; + Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, + Builds in the weather on the outward wall, + Even in the force and road of casualty. + I will not choose what many men desire, + Because I will not jump with common spirits + And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. + Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; + Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:' + And well said too; for who shall go about + To cozen fortune and be honourable + Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + O, that estates, degrees and offices + Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honour + Were purchased by the merit of the wearer! + How many then should cover that stand bare! + How many be commanded that command! + How much low peasantry would then be glean'd + From the true seed of honour! and how much honour + Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times + To be new-varnish'd! Well, but to my choice: + 'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.' + I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, + And instantly unlock my fortunes here. + + [He opens the silver casket] + +PORTIA Too long a pause for that which you find there. + +ARRAGON What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, + Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. + How much unlike art thou to Portia! + How much unlike my hopes and my deservings! + 'Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves.' + Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? + Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? + +PORTIA To offend, and judge, are distinct offices + And of opposed natures. + +ARRAGON What is here? + + [Reads] + + The fire seven times tried this: + Seven times tried that judgment is, + That did never choose amiss. + Some there be that shadows kiss; + Such have but a shadow's bliss: + There be fools alive, I wis, + Silver'd o'er; and so was this. + Take what wife you will to bed, + I will ever be your head: + So be gone: you are sped. + Still more fool I shall appear + By the time I linger here + With one fool's head I came to woo, + But I go away with two. + Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, + Patiently to bear my wroth. + + [Exeunt Arragon and train] + +PORTIA Thus hath the candle singed the moth. + O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, + They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. + +NERISSA The ancient saying is no heresy, + Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. + +PORTIA Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant Where is my lady? + +PORTIA Here: what would my lord? + +Servant Madam, there is alighted at your gate + A young Venetian, one that comes before + To signify the approaching of his lord; + From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, + To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, + Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen + So likely an ambassador of love: + A day in April never came so sweet, + To show how costly summer was at hand, + As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. + +PORTIA No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard + Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, + Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. + Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see + Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. + +NERISSA Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Venice. A street. + + + [Enter SALANIO and SALARINO] + +SALANIO Now, what news on the Rialto? + +SALARINO Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath + a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; + the Goodwins, I think they call the place; a very + dangerous flat and fatal, where the carcasses of many + a tall ship lie buried, as they say, if my gossip + Report be an honest woman of her word. + +SALANIO I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever + knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she + wept for the death of a third husband. But it is + true, without any slips of prolixity or crossing the + plain highway of talk, that the good Antonio, the + honest Antonio,--O that I had a title good enough + to keep his name company!-- + +SALARINO Come, the full stop. + +SALANIO Ha! what sayest thou? Why, the end is, he hath + lost a ship. + +SALARINO I would it might prove the end of his losses. + +SALANIO Let me say 'amen' betimes, lest the devil cross my + prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. + + [Enter SHYLOCK] + + How now, Shylock! what news among the merchants? + +SHYLOCK You know, none so well, none so well as you, of my + daughter's flight. + +SALARINO That's certain: I, for my part, knew the tailor + that made the wings she flew withal. + +SALANIO And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was + fledged; and then it is the complexion of them all + to leave the dam. + +SHYLOCK She is damned for it. + +SALANIO That's certain, if the devil may be her judge. + +SHYLOCK My own flesh and blood to rebel! + +SALANIO Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years? + +SHYLOCK I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. + +SALARINO There is more difference between thy flesh and hers + than between jet and ivory; more between your bloods + than there is between red wine and rhenish. But + tell us, do you hear whether Antonio have had any + loss at sea or no? + +SHYLOCK There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a + prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the + Rialto; a beggar, that was used to come so smug upon + the mart; let him look to his bond: he was wont to + call me usurer; let him look to his bond: he was + wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy; let him + look to his bond. + +SALARINO Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take + his flesh: what's that good for? + +SHYLOCK To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, + it will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and + hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, + mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my + bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine + enemies; and what's his reason? I am a Jew. Hath + not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, + dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with + the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject + to the same diseases, healed by the same means, + warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as + a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? + if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison + us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not + revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will + resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, + what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian + wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by + Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you + teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard but I + will better the instruction. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and + desires to speak with you both. + +SALARINO We have been up and down to seek him. + + [Enter TUBAL] + +SALANIO Here comes another of the tribe: a third cannot be + matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. + + [Exeunt SALANIO, SALARINO, and Servant] + +SHYLOCK How now, Tubal! what news from Genoa? hast thou + found my daughter? + +TUBAL I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find her. + +SHYLOCK Why, there, there, there, there! a diamond gone, + cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort! The curse + never fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it + till now: two thousand ducats in that; and other + precious, precious jewels. I would my daughter + were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear! + would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in + her coffin! No news of them? Why, so: and I know + not what's spent in the search: why, thou loss upon + loss! the thief gone with so much, and so much to + find the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge: + nor no in luck stirring but what lights on my + shoulders; no sighs but of my breathing; no tears + but of my shedding. + +TUBAL Yes, other men have ill luck too: Antonio, as I + heard in Genoa,-- + +SHYLOCK What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? + +TUBAL Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. + +SHYLOCK I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true? + +TUBAL I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the wreck. + +SHYLOCK I thank thee, good Tubal: good news, good news! + ha, ha! where? in Genoa? + +TUBAL Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one + night fourscore ducats. + +SHYLOCK Thou stickest a dagger in me: I shall never see my + gold again: fourscore ducats at a sitting! + fourscore ducats! + +TUBAL There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my + company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. + +SHYLOCK I am very glad of it: I'll plague him; I'll torture + him: I am glad of it. + +TUBAL One of them showed me a ring that he had of your + daughter for a monkey. + +SHYLOCK Out upon her! Thou torturest me, Tubal: it was my + turquoise; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor: + I would not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. + +TUBAL But Antonio is certainly undone. + +SHYLOCK Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee + me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before. I + will have the heart of him, if he forfeit; for, were + he out of Venice, I can make what merchandise I + will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at our synagogue; + go, good Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Enter BASSANIO, PORTIA, GRATIANO, NERISSA, and + Attendants] + +PORTIA I pray you, tarry: pause a day or two + Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong, + I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile. + There's something tells me, but it is not love, + I would not lose you; and you know yourself, + Hate counsels not in such a quality. + But lest you should not understand me well,-- + And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,-- + I would detain you here some month or two + Before you venture for me. I could teach you + How to choose right, but I am then forsworn; + So will I never be: so may you miss me; + But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, + That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, + They have o'erlook'd me and divided me; + One half of me is yours, the other half yours, + Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, + And so all yours. O, these naughty times + Put bars between the owners and their rights! + And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, + Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. + I speak too long; but 'tis to peize the time, + To eke it and to draw it out in length, + To stay you from election. + +BASSANIO Let me choose + For as I am, I live upon the rack. + +PORTIA Upon the rack, Bassanio! then confess + What treason there is mingled with your love. + +BASSANIO None but that ugly treason of mistrust, + Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love: + There may as well be amity and life + 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. + +PORTIA Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, + Where men enforced do speak anything. + +BASSANIO Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. + +PORTIA Well then, confess and live. + +BASSANIO 'Confess' and 'love' + Had been the very sum of my confession: + O happy torment, when my torturer + Doth teach me answers for deliverance! + But let me to my fortune and the caskets. + +PORTIA Away, then! I am lock'd in one of them: + If you do love me, you will find me out. + Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. + Let music sound while he doth make his choice; + Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like end, + Fading in music: that the comparison + May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream + And watery death-bed for him. He may win; + And what is music then? Then music is + Even as the flourish when true subjects bow + To a new-crowned monarch: such it is + As are those dulcet sounds in break of day + That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, + And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, + With no less presence, but with much more love, + Than young Alcides, when he did redeem + The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy + To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice + The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, + With bleared visages, come forth to view + The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules! + Live thou, I live: with much, much more dismay + I view the fight than thou that makest the fray. + + [Music, whilst BASSANIO comments on the caskets to himself] + + SONG. + Tell me where is fancy bred, + Or in the heart, or in the head? + How begot, how nourished? + Reply, reply. + It is engender'd in the eyes, + With gazing fed; and fancy dies + In the cradle where it lies. + Let us all ring fancy's knell + I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell. + +ALL Ding, dong, bell. + +BASSANIO So may the outward shows be least themselves: + The world is still deceived with ornament. + In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, + But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, + Obscures the show of evil? In religion, + What damned error, but some sober brow + Will bless it and approve it with a text, + Hiding the grossness with fair ornament? + There is no vice so simple but assumes + Some mark of virtue on his outward parts: + How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false + As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins + The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars; + Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk; + And these assume but valour's excrement + To render them redoubted! Look on beauty, + And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; + Which therein works a miracle in nature, + Making them lightest that wear most of it: + So are those crisped snaky golden locks + Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, + Upon supposed fairness, often known + To be the dowry of a second head, + The skull that bred them in the sepulchre. + Thus ornament is but the guiled shore + To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf + Veiling an Indian beauty; in a word, + The seeming truth which cunning times put on + To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, + Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee; + Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge + 'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre lead, + Which rather threatenest than dost promise aught, + Thy paleness moves me more than eloquence; + And here choose I; joy be the consequence! + +PORTIA [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, + As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced despair, + And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy! O love, + Be moderate; allay thy ecstasy, + In measure rein thy joy; scant this excess. + I feel too much thy blessing: make it less, + For fear I surfeit. + +BASSANIO What find I here? + + [Opening the leaden casket] + + Fair Portia's counterfeit! What demi-god + Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? + Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, + Seem they in motion? Here are sever'd lips, + Parted with sugar breath: so sweet a bar + Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs + The painter plays the spider and hath woven + A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, + Faster than gnats in cobwebs; but her eyes,-- + How could he see to do them? having made one, + Methinks it should have power to steal both his + And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far + The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow + In underprizing it, so far this shadow + Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll, + The continent and summary of my fortune. + + [Reads] + + You that choose not by the view, + Chance as fair and choose as true! + Since this fortune falls to you, + Be content and seek no new, + If you be well pleased with this + And hold your fortune for your bliss, + Turn you where your lady is + And claim her with a loving kiss. + A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave; + I come by note, to give and to receive. + Like one of two contending in a prize, + That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, + Hearing applause and universal shout, + Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt + Whether these pearls of praise be his or no; + So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so; + As doubtful whether what I see be true, + Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. + +PORTIA You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, + Such as I am: though for myself alone + I would not be ambitious in my wish, + To wish myself much better; yet, for you + I would be trebled twenty times myself; + A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich; + That only to stand high in your account, + I might in virtue, beauties, livings, friends, + Exceed account; but the full sum of me + Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, + Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised; + Happy in this, she is not yet so old + But she may learn; happier than this, + She is not bred so dull but she can learn; + Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit + Commits itself to yours to be directed, + As from her lord, her governor, her king. + Myself and what is mine to you and yours + Is now converted: but now I was the lord + Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, + Queen o'er myself: and even now, but now, + This house, these servants and this same myself + Are yours, my lord: I give them with this ring; + Which when you part from, lose, or give away, + Let it presage the ruin of your love + And be my vantage to exclaim on you. + +BASSANIO Madam, you have bereft me of all words, + Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; + And there is such confusion in my powers, + As after some oration fairly spoke + By a beloved prince, there doth appear + Among the buzzing pleased multitude; + Where every something, being blent together, + Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, + Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring + Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence: + O, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead! + +NERISSA My lord and lady, it is now our time, + That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, + To cry, good joy: good joy, my lord and lady! + +GRATIANO My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, + I wish you all the joy that you can wish; + For I am sure you can wish none from me: + And when your honours mean to solemnize + The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, + Even at that time I may be married too. + +BASSANIO With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. + +GRATIANO I thank your lordship, you have got me one. + My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours: + You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid; + You loved, I loved for intermission. + No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. + Your fortune stood upon the casket there, + And so did mine too, as the matter falls; + For wooing here until I sweat again, + And sweating until my very roof was dry + With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, + I got a promise of this fair one here + To have her love, provided that your fortune + Achieved her mistress. + +PORTIA Is this true, Nerissa? + +NERISSA Madam, it is, so you stand pleased withal. + +BASSANIO And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith? + +GRATIANO Yes, faith, my lord. + +BASSANIO Our feast shall be much honour'd in your marriage. + +GRATIANO We'll play with them the first boy for a thousand ducats. + +NERISSA What, and stake down? + +GRATIANO No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, and stake down. + But who comes here? Lorenzo and his infidel? What, + and my old Venetian friend Salerio? + + [Enter LORENZO, JESSICA, and SALERIO, a Messenger + from Venice] + +BASSANIO Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither; + If that the youth of my new interest here + Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, + I bid my very friends and countrymen, + Sweet Portia, welcome. + +PORTIA So do I, my lord: + They are entirely welcome. + +LORENZO I thank your honour. For my part, my lord, + My purpose was not to have seen you here; + But meeting with Salerio by the way, + He did entreat me, past all saying nay, + To come with him along. + +SALERIO I did, my lord; + And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio + Commends him to you. + + [Gives Bassanio a letter] + +BASSANIO Ere I ope his letter, + I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. + +SALERIO Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind; + Nor well, unless in mind: his letter there + Will show you his estate. + +GRATIANO Nerissa, cheer yon stranger; bid her welcome. + Your hand, Salerio: what's the news from Venice? + How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? + I know he will be glad of our success; + We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. + +SALERIO I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. + +PORTIA There are some shrewd contents in yon same paper, + That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek: + Some dear friend dead; else nothing in the world + Could turn so much the constitution + Of any constant man. What, worse and worse! + With leave, Bassanio: I am half yourself, + And I must freely have the half of anything + That this same paper brings you. + +BASSANIO O sweet Portia, + Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words + That ever blotted paper! Gentle lady, + When I did first impart my love to you, + I freely told you, all the wealth I had + Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman; + And then I told you true: and yet, dear lady, + Rating myself at nothing, you shall see + How much I was a braggart. When I told you + My state was nothing, I should then have told you + That I was worse than nothing; for, indeed, + I have engaged myself to a dear friend, + Engaged my friend to his mere enemy, + To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady; + The paper as the body of my friend, + And every word in it a gaping wound, + Issuing life-blood. But is it true, Salerio? + Have all his ventures fail'd? What, not one hit? + From Tripolis, from Mexico and England, + From Lisbon, Barbary and India? + And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch + Of merchant-marring rocks? + +SALERIO Not one, my lord. + Besides, it should appear, that if he had + The present money to discharge the Jew, + He would not take it. Never did I know + A creature, that did bear the shape of man, + So keen and greedy to confound a man: + He plies the duke at morning and at night, + And doth impeach the freedom of the state, + If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, + The duke himself, and the magnificoes + Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him; + But none can drive him from the envious plea + Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond. + +JESSICA When I was with him I have heard him swear + To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, + That he would rather have Antonio's flesh + Than twenty times the value of the sum + That he did owe him: and I know, my lord, + If law, authority and power deny not, + It will go hard with poor Antonio. + +PORTIA Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble? + +BASSANIO The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, + The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit + In doing courtesies, and one in whom + The ancient Roman honour more appears + Than any that draws breath in Italy. + +PORTIA What sum owes he the Jew? + +BASSANIO For me three thousand ducats. + +PORTIA What, no more? + Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond; + Double six thousand, and then treble that, + Before a friend of this description + Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. + First go with me to church and call me wife, + And then away to Venice to your friend; + For never shall you lie by Portia's side + With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold + To pay the petty debt twenty times over: + When it is paid, bring your true friend along. + My maid Nerissa and myself meantime + Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! + For you shall hence upon your wedding-day: + Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer: + Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. + But let me hear the letter of your friend. + +BASSANIO [Reads] Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all + miscarried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is + very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit; and since + in paying it, it is impossible I should live, all + debts are cleared between you and I, if I might but + see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your + pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, + let not my letter. + +PORTIA O love, dispatch all business, and be gone! + +BASSANIO Since I have your good leave to go away, + I will make haste: but, till I come again, + No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, + No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Venice. A street. + + + [Enter SHYLOCK, SALARINO, ANTONIO, and Gaoler] + +SHYLOCK Gaoler, look to him: tell not me of mercy; + This is the fool that lent out money gratis: + Gaoler, look to him. + +ANTONIO Hear me yet, good Shylock. + +SHYLOCK I'll have my bond; speak not against my bond: + I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. + Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause; + But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs: + The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, + Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond + To come abroad with him at his request. + +ANTONIO I pray thee, hear me speak. + +SHYLOCK I'll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak: + I'll have my bond; and therefore speak no more. + I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, + To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield + To Christian intercessors. Follow not; + I'll have no speaking: I will have my bond. + + [Exit] + +SALARINO It is the most impenetrable cur + That ever kept with men. + +ANTONIO Let him alone: + I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. + He seeks my life; his reason well I know: + I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures + Many that have at times made moan to me; + Therefore he hates me. + +SALARINO I am sure the duke + Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. + +ANTONIO The duke cannot deny the course of law: + For the commodity that strangers have + With us in Venice, if it be denied, + Will much impeach the justice of his state; + Since that the trade and profit of the city + Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go: + These griefs and losses have so bated me, + That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh + To-morrow to my bloody creditor. + Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come + To see me pay his debt, and then I care not! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Belmont. A room in PORTIA'S house. + + + [Enter PORTIA, NERISSA, LORENZO, JESSICA, and + BALTHASAR] + +LORENZO Madam, although I speak it in your presence, + You have a noble and a true conceit + Of godlike amity; which appears most strongly + In bearing thus the absence of your lord. + But if you knew to whom you show this honour, + How true a gentleman you send relief, + How dear a lover of my lord your husband, + I know you would be prouder of the work + Than customary bounty can enforce you. + +PORTIA I never did repent for doing good, + Nor shall not now: for in companions + That do converse and waste the time together, + Whose souls do bear an equal yoke Of love, + There must be needs a like proportion + Of lineaments, of manners and of spirit; + Which makes me think that this Antonio, + Being the bosom lover of my lord, + Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, + How little is the cost I have bestow'd + In purchasing the semblance of my soul + From out the state of hellish misery! + This comes too near the praising of myself; + Therefore no more of it: hear other things. + Lorenzo, I commit into your hands + The husbandry and manage of my house + Until my lord's return: for mine own part, + I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow + To live in prayer and contemplation, + Only attended by Nerissa here, + Until her husband and my lord's return: + There is a monastery two miles off; + And there will we abide. I do desire you + Not to deny this imposition; + The which my love and some necessity + Now lays upon you. + +LORENZO Madam, with all my heart; + I shall obey you in all fair commands. + +PORTIA My people do already know my mind, + And will acknowledge you and Jessica + In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. + And so farewell, till we shall meet again. + +LORENZO Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you! + +JESSICA I wish your ladyship all heart's content. + +PORTIA I thank you for your wish, and am well pleased + To wish it back on you: fare you well Jessica. + + [Exeunt JESSICA and LORENZO] + + Now, Balthasar, + As I have ever found thee honest-true, + So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, + And use thou all the endeavour of a man + In speed to Padua: see thou render this + Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario; + And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee, + Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed + Unto the tranect, to the common ferry + Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, + But get thee gone: I shall be there before thee. + +BALTHASAR Madam, I go with all convenient speed. + + [Exit] + +PORTIA Come on, Nerissa; I have work in hand + That you yet know not of: we'll see our husbands + Before they think of us. + +NERISSA Shall they see us? + +PORTIA They shall, Nerissa; but in such a habit, + That they shall think we are accomplished + With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, + When we are both accoutred like young men, + I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, + And wear my dagger with the braver grace, + And speak between the change of man and boy + With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps + Into a manly stride, and speak of frays + Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies, + How honourable ladies sought my love, + Which I denying, they fell sick and died; + I could not do withal; then I'll repent, + And wish for all that, that I had not killed them; + And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, + That men shall swear I have discontinued school + Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind + A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, + Which I will practise. + +NERISSA Why, shall we turn to men? + +PORTIA Fie, what a question's that, + If thou wert near a lewd interpreter! + But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device + When I am in my coach, which stays for us + At the park gate; and therefore haste away, + For we must measure twenty miles to-day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V The same. A garden. + + + [Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA] + +LAUNCELOT Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father + are to be laid upon the children: therefore, I + promise ye, I fear you. I was always plain with + you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: + therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you + are damned. There is but one hope in it that can do + you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard + hope neither. + +JESSICA And what hope is that, I pray thee? + +LAUNCELOT Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you + not, that you are not the Jew's daughter. + +JESSICA That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed: so the + sins of my mother should be visited upon me. + +LAUNCELOT Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and + mother: thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I + fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are + gone both ways. + +JESSICA I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a + Christian. + +LAUNCELOT Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christians + enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by + another. This making Christians will raise the + price of hogs: if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we + shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money. + + [Enter LORENZO] + +JESSICA I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes. + +LORENZO I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if + you thus get my wife into corners. + +JESSICA Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo: Launcelot and I + are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for + me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he + says, you are no good member of the commonwealth, + for in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the + price of pork. + +LORENZO I shall answer that better to the commonwealth than + you can the getting up of the negro's belly: the + Moor is with child by you, Launcelot. + +LAUNCELOT It is much that the Moor should be more than reason: + but if she be less than an honest woman, she is + indeed more than I took her for. + +LORENZO How every fool can play upon the word! I think the + best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, + and discourse grow commendable in none only but + parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner. + +LAUNCELOT That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. + +LORENZO Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid + them prepare dinner. + +LAUNCELOT That is done too, sir; only 'cover' is the word. + +LORENZO Will you cover then, sir? + +LAUNCELOT Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. + +LORENZO Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show + the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray + tree, understand a plain man in his plain meaning: + go to thy fellows; bid them cover the table, serve + in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. + +LAUNCELOT For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the + meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in + to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and + conceits shall govern. + + [Exit] + +LORENZO O dear discretion, how his words are suited! + The fool hath planted in his memory + An army of good words; and I do know + A many fools, that stand in better place, + Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word + Defy the matter. How cheerest thou, Jessica? + And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, + How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife? + +JESSICA Past all expressing. It is very meet + The Lord Bassanio live an upright life; + For, having such a blessing in his lady, + He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; + And if on earth he do not mean it, then + In reason he should never come to heaven + Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match + And on the wager lay two earthly women, + And Portia one, there must be something else + Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world + Hath not her fellow. + +LORENZO Even such a husband + Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. + +JESSICA Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. + +LORENZO I will anon: first, let us go to dinner. + +JESSICA Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. + +LORENZO No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; +' Then, howso'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things + I shall digest it. + +JESSICA Well, I'll set you forth. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Venice. A court of justice. + + + [Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO, + GRATIANO, SALERIO, and others] + +DUKE What, is Antonio here? + +ANTONIO Ready, so please your grace. + +DUKE I am sorry for thee: thou art come to answer + A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch + uncapable of pity, void and empty + From any dram of mercy. + +ANTONIO I have heard + Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify + His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate + And that no lawful means can carry me + Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose + My patience to his fury, and am arm'd + To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, + The very tyranny and rage of his. + +DUKE Go one, and call the Jew into the court. + +SALERIO He is ready at the door: he comes, my lord. + + [Enter SHYLOCK] + +DUKE Make room, and let him stand before our face. + Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, + That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice + To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought + Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange + Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; + And where thou now exact'st the penalty, + Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, + Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, + But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, + Forgive a moiety of the principal; + Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, + That have of late so huddled on his back, + Enow to press a royal merchant down + And pluck commiseration of his state + From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, + From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd + To offices of tender courtesy. + We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. + +SHYLOCK I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose; + And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn + To have the due and forfeit of my bond: + If you deny it, let the danger light + Upon your charter and your city's freedom. + You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have + A weight of carrion flesh than to receive + Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: + But, say, it is my humour: is it answer'd? + What if my house be troubled with a rat + And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats + To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet? + Some men there are love not a gaping pig; + Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; + And others, when the bagpipe sings i' the nose, + Cannot contain their urine: for affection, + Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood + Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: + As there is no firm reason to be render'd, + Why he cannot abide a gaping pig; + Why he, a harmless necessary cat; + Why he, a woollen bagpipe; but of force + Must yield to such inevitable shame + As to offend, himself being offended; + So can I give no reason, nor I will not, + More than a lodged hate and a certain loathing + I bear Antonio, that I follow thus + A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? + +BASSANIO This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, + To excuse the current of thy cruelty. + +SHYLOCK I am not bound to please thee with my answers. + +BASSANIO Do all men kill the things they do not love? + +SHYLOCK Hates any man the thing he would not kill? + +BASSANIO Every offence is not a hate at first. + +SHYLOCK What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? + +ANTONIO I pray you, think you question with the Jew: + You may as well go stand upon the beach + And bid the main flood bate his usual height; + You may as well use question with the wolf + Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; + You may as well forbid the mountain pines + To wag their high tops and to make no noise, + When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; + You may as well do anything most hard, + As seek to soften that--than which what's harder?-- + His Jewish heart: therefore, I do beseech you, + Make no more offers, use no farther means, + But with all brief and plain conveniency + Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. + +BASSANIO For thy three thousand ducats here is six. + +SHYLOCK What judgment shall I dread, doing + Were in six parts and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them; I would have my bond. + +DUKE How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? + +SHYLOCK What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? + You have among you many a purchased slave, + Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, + You use in abject and in slavish parts, + Because you bought them: shall I say to you, + Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? + Why sweat they under burthens? let their beds + Be made as soft as yours and let their palates + Be season'd with such viands? You will answer + 'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you: + The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, + Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it. + If you deny me, fie upon your law! + There is no force in the decrees of Venice. + I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it? + +DUKE Upon my power I may dismiss this court, + Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, + Whom I have sent for to determine this, + Come here to-day. + +SALERIO My lord, here stays without + A messenger with letters from the doctor, + New come from Padua. + +DUKE Bring us the letter; call the messenger. + +BASSANIO Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet! + The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all, + Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. + +ANTONIO I am a tainted wether of the flock, + Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit + Drops earliest to the ground; and so let me + You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, + Than to live still and write mine epitaph. + + [Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer's clerk] + +DUKE Came you from Padua, from Bellario? + +NERISSA From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. + + [Presenting a letter] + +BASSANIO Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? + +SHYLOCK To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. + +GRATIANO Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, + Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can, + No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness + Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee? + +SHYLOCK No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. + +GRATIANO O, be thou damn'd, inexecrable dog! + And for thy life let justice be accused. + Thou almost makest me waver in my faith + To hold opinion with Pythagoras, + That souls of animals infuse themselves + Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit + Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, + Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, + And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, + Infused itself in thee; for thy desires + Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous. + +SHYLOCK Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, + Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud: + Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall + To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. + +DUKE This letter from Bellario doth commend + A young and learned doctor to our court. + Where is he? + +NERISSA He attendeth here hard by, + To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. + +DUKE With all my heart. Some three or four of you + Go give him courteous conduct to this place. + Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. + +Clerk [Reads] + + Your grace shall understand that at the receipt of + your letter I am very sick: but in the instant that + your messenger came, in loving visitation was with + me a young doctor of Rome; his name is Balthasar. I + acquainted him with the cause in controversy between + the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turned o'er + many books together: he is furnished with my + opinion; which, bettered with his own learning, the + greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes + with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's + request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of + years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend + estimation; for I never knew so young a body with so + old a head. I leave him to your gracious + acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his + commendation. + +DUKE You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes: + And here, I take it, is the doctor come. + + [Enter PORTIA, dressed like a doctor of laws] + + Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario? + +PORTIA I did, my lord. + +DUKE You are welcome: take your place. + Are you acquainted with the difference + That holds this present question in the court? + +PORTIA I am informed thoroughly of the cause. + Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? + +DUKE Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. + +PORTIA Is your name Shylock? + +SHYLOCK Shylock is my name. + +PORTIA Of a strange nature is the suit you follow; + Yet in such rule that the Venetian law + Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. + You stand within his danger, do you not? + +ANTONIO Ay, so he says. + +PORTIA Do you confess the bond? + +ANTONIO I do. + +PORTIA Then must the Jew be merciful. + +SHYLOCK On what compulsion must I? tell me that. + +PORTIA The quality of mercy is not strain'd, + It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven + Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; + It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown; + His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptred sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's + When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, + Though justice be thy plea, consider this, + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much + To mitigate the justice of thy plea; + Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice + Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. + +SHYLOCK My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, + The penalty and forfeit of my bond. + +PORTIA Is he not able to discharge the money? + +BASSANIO Yes, here I tender it for him in the court; + Yea, twice the sum: if that will not suffice, + I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, + On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: + If this will not suffice, it must appear + That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, + Wrest once the law to your authority: + To do a great right, do a little wrong, + And curb this cruel devil of his will. + +PORTIA It must not be; there is no power in Venice + Can alter a decree established: + 'Twill be recorded for a precedent, + And many an error by the same example + Will rush into the state: it cannot be. + +SHYLOCK A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! + O wise young judge, how I do honour thee! + +PORTIA I pray you, let me look upon the bond. + +SHYLOCK Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. + +PORTIA Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. + +SHYLOCK An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven: + Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? + No, not for Venice. + +PORTIA Why, this bond is forfeit; + And lawfully by this the Jew may claim + A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off + Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful: + Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. + +SHYLOCK When it is paid according to the tenor. + It doth appear you are a worthy judge; + You know the law, your exposition + Hath been most sound: I charge you by the law, + Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, + Proceed to judgment: by my soul I swear + There is no power in the tongue of man + To alter me: I stay here on my bond. + +ANTONIO Most heartily I do beseech the court + To give the judgment. + +PORTIA Why then, thus it is: + You must prepare your bosom for his knife. + +SHYLOCK O noble judge! O excellent young man! + +PORTIA For the intent and purpose of the law + Hath full relation to the penalty, + Which here appeareth due upon the bond. + +SHYLOCK 'Tis very true: O wise and upright judge! + How much more elder art thou than thy looks! + +PORTIA Therefore lay bare your bosom. + +SHYLOCK Ay, his breast: + So says the bond: doth it not, noble judge? + 'Nearest his heart:' those are the very words. + +PORTIA It is so. Are there balance here to weigh + The flesh? + +SHYLOCK I have them ready. + +PORTIA Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, + To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. + +SHYLOCK Is it so nominated in the bond? + +PORTIA It is not so express'd: but what of that? + 'Twere good you do so much for charity. + +SHYLOCK I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. + +PORTIA You, merchant, have you any thing to say? + +ANTONIO But little: I am arm'd and well prepared. + Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well! + Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you; + For herein Fortune shows herself more kind + Than is her custom: it is still her use + To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, + To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow + An age of poverty; from which lingering penance + Of such misery doth she cut me off. + Commend me to your honourable wife: + Tell her the process of Antonio's end; + Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death; + And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge + Whether Bassanio had not once a love. + Repent but you that you shall lose your friend, + And he repents not that he pays your debt; + For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, + I'll pay it presently with all my heart. + +BASSANIO Antonio, I am married to a wife + Which is as dear to me as life itself; + But life itself, my wife, and all the world, + Are not with me esteem'd above thy life: + I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all + Here to this devil, to deliver you. + +PORTIA Your wife would give you little thanks for that, + If she were by, to hear you make the offer. + +GRATIANO I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love: + I would she were in heaven, so she could + Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. + +NERISSA 'Tis well you offer it behind her back; + The wish would make else an unquiet house. + +SHYLOCK These be the Christian husbands. I have a daughter; + Would any of the stock of Barrabas + Had been her husband rather than a Christian! + + [Aside] + + We trifle time: I pray thee, pursue sentence. + +PORTIA A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine: + The court awards it, and the law doth give it. + +SHYLOCK Most rightful judge! + +PORTIA And you must cut this flesh from off his breast: + The law allows it, and the court awards it. + +SHYLOCK Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare! + +PORTIA Tarry a little; there is something else. + This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; + The words expressly are 'a pound of flesh:' + Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; + But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed + One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods + Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate + Unto the state of Venice. + +GRATIANO O upright judge! Mark, Jew: O learned judge! + +SHYLOCK Is that the law? + +PORTIA Thyself shalt see the act: + For, as thou urgest justice, be assured + Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. + +GRATIANO O learned judge! Mark, Jew: a learned judge! + +SHYLOCK I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice + And let the Christian go. + +BASSANIO Here is the money. + +PORTIA Soft! + The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste: + He shall have nothing but the penalty. + +GRATIANO O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! + +PORTIA Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. + Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more + But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut'st more + Or less than a just pound, be it but so much + As makes it light or heavy in the substance, + Or the division of the twentieth part + Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn + But in the estimation of a hair, + Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. + +GRATIANO A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! + Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. + +PORTIA Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. + +SHYLOCK Give me my principal, and let me go. + +BASSANIO I have it ready for thee; here it is. + +PORTIA He hath refused it in the open court: + He shall have merely justice and his bond. + +GRATIANO A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel! + I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. + +SHYLOCK Shall I not have barely my principal? + +PORTIA Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, + To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. + +SHYLOCK Why, then the devil give him good of it! + I'll stay no longer question. + +PORTIA Tarry, Jew: + The law hath yet another hold on you. + It is enacted in the laws of Venice, + If it be proved against an alien + That by direct or indirect attempts + He seek the life of any citizen, + The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive + Shall seize one half his goods; the other half + Comes to the privy coffer of the state; + And the offender's life lies in the mercy + Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. + In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st; + For it appears, by manifest proceeding, + That indirectly and directly too + Thou hast contrived against the very life + Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr'd + The danger formerly by me rehearsed. + Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke. + +GRATIANO Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself: + And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, + Thou hast not left the value of a cord; + Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. + +DUKE That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits, + I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it: + For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; + The other half comes to the general state, + Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. + +PORTIA Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. + +SHYLOCK Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that: + You take my house when you do take the prop + That doth sustain my house; you take my life + When you do take the means whereby I live. + +PORTIA What mercy can you render him, Antonio? + +GRATIANO A halter gratis; nothing else, for God's sake. + +ANTONIO So please my lord the duke and all the court + To quit the fine for one half of his goods, + I am content; so he will let me have + The other half in use, to render it, + Upon his death, unto the gentleman + That lately stole his daughter: + Two things provided more, that, for this favour, + He presently become a Christian; + The other, that he do record a gift, + Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, + Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. + +DUKE He shall do this, or else I do recant + The pardon that I late pronounced here. + +PORTIA Art thou contented, Jew? what dost thou say? + +SHYLOCK I am content. + +PORTIA Clerk, draw a deed of gift. + +SHYLOCK I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; + I am not well: send the deed after me, + And I will sign it. + +DUKE Get thee gone, but do it. + +GRATIANO In christening shalt thou have two god-fathers: + Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, + To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. + + [Exit SHYLOCK] + +DUKE Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. + +PORTIA I humbly do desire your grace of pardon: + I must away this night toward Padua, + And it is meet I presently set forth. + +DUKE I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. + Antonio, gratify this gentleman, + For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. + + [Exeunt Duke and his train] + +BASSANIO Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend + Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted + Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, + Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, + We freely cope your courteous pains withal. + +ANTONIO And stand indebted, over and above, + In love and service to you evermore. + +PORTIA He is well paid that is well satisfied; + And I, delivering you, am satisfied + And therein do account myself well paid: + My mind was never yet more mercenary. + I pray you, know me when we meet again: + I wish you well, and so I take my leave. + +BASSANIO Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: + Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, + Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you, + Not to deny me, and to pardon me. + +PORTIA You press me far, and therefore I will yield. + + [To ANTONIO] + + Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake; + + [To BASSANIO] + + And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you: + Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more; + And you in love shall not deny me this. + +BASSANIO This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle! + I will not shame myself to give you this. + +PORTIA I will have nothing else but only this; + And now methinks I have a mind to it. + +BASSANIO There's more depends on this than on the value. + The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, + And find it out by proclamation: + Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. + +PORTIA I see, sir, you are liberal in offers + You taught me first to beg; and now methinks + You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. + +BASSANIO Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; + And when she put it on, she made me vow + That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. + +PORTIA That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. + An if your wife be not a mad-woman, + And know how well I have deserved the ring, + She would not hold out enemy for ever, + For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! + + [Exeunt Portia and Nerissa] + +ANTONIO My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring: + Let his deservings and my love withal + Be valued against your wife's commandment. + +BASSANIO Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; + Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, + Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste. + + [Exit Gratiano] + + Come, you and I will thither presently; + And in the morning early will we both + Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The same. A street. + + + [Enter PORTIA and NERISSA] + +PORTIA Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed + And let him sign it: we'll away to-night + And be a day before our husbands home: + This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. + + [Enter GRATIANO] + +GRATIANO Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en + My Lord Bassanio upon more advice + Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat + Your company at dinner. + +PORTIA That cannot be: + His ring I do accept most thankfully: + And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore, + I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. + +GRATIANO That will I do. + +NERISSA Sir, I would speak with you. + + [Aside to PORTIA] + + I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, + Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. + +PORTIA [Aside to NERISSA] Thou mayst, I warrant. + We shall have old swearing + That they did give the rings away to men; + But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. + + [Aloud] + + Away! make haste: thou knowist where I will tarry. + +NERISSA Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA'S house. + + + [Enter LORENZO and JESSICA] + +LORENZO The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, + When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees + And they did make no noise, in such a night + Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls + And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, + Where Cressid lay that night. + +JESSICA In such a night + Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew + And saw the lion's shadow ere himself + And ran dismay'd away. + +LORENZO In such a night + Stood Dido with a willow in her hand + Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love + To come again to Carthage. + +JESSICA In such a night + Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs + That did renew old AEson. + +LORENZO In such a night + Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew + And with an unthrift love did run from Venice + As far as Belmont. + +JESSICA In such a night + Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, + Stealing her soul with many vows of faith + And ne'er a true one. + +LORENZO In such a night + Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, + Slander her love, and he forgave it her. + +JESSICA I would out-night you, did no body come; + But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. + + [Enter STEPHANO] + +LORENZO Who comes so fast in silence of the night? + +STEPHANO A friend. + +LORENZO A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend? + +STEPHANO Stephano is my name; and I bring word + My mistress will before the break of day + Be here at Belmont; she doth stray about + By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays + For happy wedlock hours. + +LORENZO Who comes with her? + +STEPHANO None but a holy hermit and her maid. + I pray you, is my master yet return'd? + +LORENZO He is not, nor we have not heard from him. + But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, + And ceremoniously let us prepare + Some welcome for the mistress of the house. + + [Enter LAUNCELOT] + +LAUNCELOT Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! + +LORENZO Who calls? + +LAUNCELOT Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? + Master Lorenzo, sola, sola! + +LORENZO Leave hollaing, man: here. + +LAUNCELOT Sola! where? where? + +LORENZO Here. + +LAUNCELOT Tell him there's a post come from my master, with + his horn full of good news: my master will be here + ere morning. + + [Exit] + +LORENZO Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. + And yet no matter: why should we go in? + My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, + Within the house, your mistress is at hand; + And bring your music forth into the air. + + [Exit Stephano] + + How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! + Here will we sit and let the sounds of music + Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night + Become the touches of sweet harmony. + Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven + Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: + There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st + But in his motion like an angel sings, + Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; + Such harmony is in immortal souls; + But whilst this muddy vesture of decay + Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. + + [Enter Musicians] + + Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn! + With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, + And draw her home with music. + + [Music] + +JESSICA I am never merry when I hear sweet music. + +LORENZO The reason is, your spirits are attentive: + For do but note a wild and wanton herd, + Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, + Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, + Which is the hot condition of their blood; + If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, + Or any air of music touch their ears, + You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, + Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze + By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet + Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods; + Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, + But music for the time doth change his nature. + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. + + [Enter PORTIA and NERISSA] + +PORTIA That light we see is burning in my hall. + How far that little candle throws his beams! + So shines a good deed in a naughty world. + +NERISSA When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + +PORTIA So doth the greater glory dim the less: + A substitute shines brightly as a king + Unto the king be by, and then his state + Empties itself, as doth an inland brook + Into the main of waters. Music! hark! + +NERISSA It is your music, madam, of the house. + +PORTIA Nothing is good, I see, without respect: + Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. + +NERISSA Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. + +PORTIA The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, + When neither is attended, and I think + The nightingale, if she should sing by day, + When every goose is cackling, would be thought + No better a musician than the wren. + How many things by season season'd are + To their right praise and true perfection! + Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion + And would not be awaked. + + [Music ceases] + +LORENZO That is the voice, + Or I am much deceived, of Portia. + +PORTIA He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, + By the bad voice. + +LORENZO Dear lady, welcome home. + +PORTIA We have been praying for our husbands' healths, + Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. + Are they return'd? + +LORENZO Madam, they are not yet; + But there is come a messenger before, + To signify their coming. + +PORTIA Go in, Nerissa; + Give order to my servants that they take + No note at all of our being absent hence; + Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. + + [A tucket sounds] + +LORENZO Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet: + We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. + +PORTIA This night methinks is but the daylight sick; + It looks a little paler: 'tis a day, + Such as the day is when the sun is hid. + + [Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and + their followers] + +BASSANIO We should hold day with the Antipodes, + If you would walk in absence of the sun. + +PORTIA Let me give light, but let me not be light; + For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, + And never be Bassanio so for me: + But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. + +BASSANIO I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. + This is the man, this is Antonio, + To whom I am so infinitely bound. + +PORTIA You should in all sense be much bound to him. + For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. + +ANTONIO No more than I am well acquitted of. + +PORTIA Sir, you are very welcome to our house: + It must appear in other ways than words, + Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. + +GRATIANO [To NERISSA] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; + In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: + Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, + Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. + +PORTIA A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter? + +GRATIANO About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring + That she did give me, whose posy was + For all the world like cutler's poetry + Upon a knife, 'Love me, and leave me not.' + +NERISSA What talk you of the posy or the value? + You swore to me, when I did give it you, + That you would wear it till your hour of death + And that it should lie with you in your grave: + Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, + You should have been respective and have kept it. + Gave it a judge's clerk! no, God's my judge, + The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. + +GRATIANO He will, an if he live to be a man. + +NERISSA Ay, if a woman live to be a man. + +GRATIANO Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, + A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, + No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk, + A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee: + I could not for my heart deny it him. + +PORTIA You were to blame, I must be plain with you, + To part so slightly with your wife's first gift: + A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger + And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. + I gave my love a ring and made him swear + Never to part with it; and here he stands; + I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it + Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth + That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, + You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: + An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. + +BASSANIO [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off + And swear I lost the ring defending it. + +GRATIANO My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away + Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed + Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk, + That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine; + And neither man nor master would take aught + But the two rings. + +PORTIA What ring gave you my lord? + Not that, I hope, which you received of me. + +BASSANIO If I could add a lie unto a fault, + I would deny it; but you see my finger + Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone. + +PORTIA Even so void is your false heart of truth. + By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed + Until I see the ring. + +NERISSA Nor I in yours + Till I again see mine. + +BASSANIO Sweet Portia, + If you did know to whom I gave the ring, + If you did know for whom I gave the ring + And would conceive for what I gave the ring + And how unwillingly I left the ring, + When nought would be accepted but the ring, + You would abate the strength of your displeasure. + +PORTIA If you had known the virtue of the ring, + Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, + Or your own honour to contain the ring, + You would not then have parted with the ring. + What man is there so much unreasonable, + If you had pleased to have defended it + With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty + To urge the thing held as a ceremony? + Nerissa teaches me what to believe: + I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. + +BASSANIO No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, + No woman had it, but a civil doctor, + Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me + And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him + And suffer'd him to go displeased away; + Even he that did uphold the very life + Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? + I was enforced to send it after him; + I was beset with shame and courtesy; + My honour would not let ingratitude + So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady; + For, by these blessed candles of the night, + Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd + The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. + +PORTIA Let not that doctor e'er come near my house: + Since he hath got the jewel that I loved, + And that which you did swear to keep for me, + I will become as liberal as you; + I'll not deny him any thing I have, + No, not my body nor my husband's bed: + Know him I shall, I am well sure of it: + Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus: + If you do not, if I be left alone, + Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own, + I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. + +NERISSA And I his clerk; therefore be well advised + How you do leave me to mine own protection. + +GRATIANO Well, do you so; let not me take him, then; + For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. + +ANTONIO I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. + +PORTIA Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding. + +BASSANIO Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; + And, in the hearing of these many friends, + I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, + Wherein I see myself-- + +PORTIA Mark you but that! + In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; + In each eye, one: swear by your double self, + And there's an oath of credit. + +BASSANIO Nay, but hear me: + Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear + I never more will break an oath with thee. + +ANTONIO I once did lend my body for his wealth; + Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, + Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, + My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord + Will never more break faith advisedly. + +PORTIA Then you shall be his surety. Give him this + And bid him keep it better than the other. + +ANTONIO Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. + +BASSANIO By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor! + +PORTIA I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; + For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. + +NERISSA And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; + For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's clerk, + In lieu of this last night did lie with me. + +GRATIANO Why, this is like the mending of highways + In summer, where the ways are fair enough: + What, are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it? + +PORTIA Speak not so grossly. You are all amazed: + Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; + It comes from Padua, from Bellario: + There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, + Nerissa there her clerk: Lorenzo here + Shall witness I set forth as soon as you + And even but now return'd; I have not yet + Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; + And I have better news in store for you + Than you expect: unseal this letter soon; + There you shall find three of your argosies + Are richly come to harbour suddenly: + You shall not know by what strange accident + I chanced on this letter. + +ANTONIO I am dumb. + +BASSANIO Were you the doctor and I knew you not? + +GRATIANO Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? + +NERISSA Ay, but the clerk that never means to do it, + Unless he live until he be a man. + +BASSANIO Sweet doctor, you shall be my bed-fellow: + When I am absent, then lie with my wife. + +ANTONIO Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; + For here I read for certain that my ships + Are safely come to road. + +PORTIA How now, Lorenzo! + My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. + +NERISSA Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. + There do I give to you and Jessica, + From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, + After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. + +LORENZO Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way + Of starved people. + +PORTIA It is almost morning, + And yet I am sure you are not satisfied + Of these events at full. Let us go in; + And charge us there upon inter'gatories, + And we will answer all things faithfully. + +GRATIANO Let it be so: the first inter'gatory + That my Nerissa shall be sworn on is, + Whether till the next night she had rather stay, + Or go to bed now, being two hours to day: + But were the day come, I should wish it dark, + That I were couching with the doctor's clerk. + Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing + So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. + + [Exeunt] + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +SIR JOHN FALSTAFF (FALSTAFF:) + +FENTON a gentleman. + +SHALLOW a country justice. + +SLENDER cousin to Shallow. + + +FORD | + | two gentlemen dwelling at Windsor. +PAGE | + + +WILLIAM PAGE a boy, son to Page. + +SIR HUGH EVANS a Welsh parson. + +DOCTOR CAIUS a French physician. + + Host of the Garter Inn. (Host:) + + +BARDOLPH | + | +PISTOL | sharpers attending on Falstaff. + | +NYM | + + +ROBIN page to Falstaff. + +SIMPLE servant to Slender. + +RUGBY servant to Doctor Caius. + +MISTRESS FORD: + +MISTRESS PAGE: + +ANNE PAGE her daughter. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY servant to Doctor Caius. + + Servants to Page, Ford, &c. + (Servant:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + + +SCENE Windsor, and the neighbourhood. + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Windsor. Before PAGE's house. + + + [Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +SHALLOW Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star- + chamber matter of it: if he were twenty Sir John + Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire. + +SLENDER In the county of Gloucester, justice of peace and + 'Coram.' + +SHALLOW Ay, cousin Slender, and 'Custalourum. + +SLENDER Ay, and 'Rato-lorum' too; and a gentleman born, + master parson; who writes himself 'Armigero,' in any + bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, 'Armigero.' + +SHALLOW Ay, that I do; and have done any time these three + hundred years. + +SLENDER All his successors gone before him hath done't; and + all his ancestors that come after him may: they may + give the dozen white luces in their coat. + +SHALLOW It is an old coat. + +SIR HUGH EVANS The dozen white louses do become an old coat well; + it agrees well, passant; it is a familiar beast to + man, and signifies love. + +SHALLOW The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old coat. + +SLENDER I may quarter, coz. + +SHALLOW You may, by marrying. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. + +SHALLOW Not a whit. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Yes, py'r lady; if he has a quarter of your coat, + there is but three skirts for yourself, in my + simple conjectures: but that is all one. If Sir + John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto + you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my + benevolence to make atonements and compremises + between you. + +SHALLOW The council shall bear it; it is a riot. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is not meet the council hear a riot; there is no + fear of Got in a riot: the council, look you, shall + desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a + riot; take your vizaments in that. + +SHALLOW Ha! o' my life, if I were young again, the sword + should end it. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it: + and there is also another device in my prain, which + peradventure prings goot discretions with it: there + is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master Thomas + Page, which is pretty virginity. + +SLENDER Mistress Anne Page? She has brown hair, and speaks + small like a woman. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is that fery person for all the orld, as just as + you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, + and gold and silver, is her grandsire upon his + death's-bed--Got deliver to a joyful resurrections! + --give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years + old: it were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles + and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master + Abraham and Mistress Anne Page. + +SLENDER Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pound? + +SIR HUGH EVANS Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny. + +SLENDER I know the young gentlewoman; she has good gifts. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Seven hundred pounds and possibilities is goot gifts. + +SHALLOW Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Falstaff there? + +SIR HUGH EVANS Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a liar as I do + despise one that is false, or as I despise one that + is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there; and, I + beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will + peat the door for Master Page. + + [Knocks] + + What, hoa! Got pless your house here! + +PAGE [Within] Who's there? + + [Enter PAGE] + +SIR HUGH EVANS Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice + Shallow; and here young Master Slender, that + peradventures shall tell you another tale, if + matters grow to your likings. + +PAGE I am glad to see your worships well. + I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good do it + your good heart! I wished your venison better; it + was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page?--and I + thank you always with my heart, la! with my heart. + +PAGE Sir, I thank you. + +SHALLOW Sir, I thank you; by yea and no, I do. + +PAGE I am glad to see you, good Master Slender. + +SLENDER How does your fallow greyhound, sir? I heard say he + was outrun on Cotsall. + +PAGE It could not be judged, sir. + +SLENDER You'll not confess, you'll not confess. + +SHALLOW That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault; + 'tis a good dog. + +PAGE A cur, sir. + +SHALLOW Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog: can there be + more said? he is good and fair. Is Sir John + Falstaff here? + +PAGE Sir, he is within; and I would I could do a good + office between you. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. + +SHALLOW He hath wronged me, Master Page. + +PAGE Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. + +SHALLOW If it be confessed, it is not redress'd: is not that + so, Master Page? He hath wronged me; indeed he + hath, at a word, he hath, believe me: Robert + Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wronged. + +PAGE Here comes Sir John. + + [Enter FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, NYM, and PISTOL] + +FALSTAFF Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to the king? + +SHALLOW Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and + broke open my lodge. + +FALSTAFF But not kissed your keeper's daughter? + +SHALLOW Tut, a pin! this shall be answered. + +FALSTAFF I will answer it straight; I have done all this. + That is now answered. + +SHALLOW The council shall know this. + +FALSTAFF 'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel: + you'll be laughed at. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Pauca verba, Sir John; goot worts. + +FALSTAFF Good worts! good cabbage. Slender, I broke your + head: what matter have you against me? + +SLENDER Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you; + and against your cony-catching rascals, Bardolph, + Nym, and Pistol. + +BARDOLPH You Banbury cheese! + +SLENDER Ay, it is no matter. + +PISTOL How now, Mephostophilus! + +SLENDER Ay, it is no matter. + +NYM Slice, I say! pauca, pauca: slice! that's my humour. + +SLENDER Where's Simple, my man? Can you tell, cousin? + +SIR HUGH EVANS Peace, I pray you. Now let us understand. There is + three umpires in this matter, as I understand; that + is, Master Page, fidelicet Master Page; and there is + myself, fidelicet myself; and the three party is, + lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter. + +PAGE We three, to hear it and end it between them. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Fery goot: I will make a prief of it in my note- + book; and we will afterwards ork upon the cause with + as great discreetly as we can. + +FALSTAFF Pistol! + +PISTOL He hears with ears. + +SIR HUGH EVANS The tevil and his tam! what phrase is this, 'He + hears with ear'? why, it is affectations. + +FALSTAFF Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse? + +SLENDER Ay, by these gloves, did he, or I would I might + never come in mine own great chamber again else, of + seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward + shovel-boards, that cost me two shilling and two + pence apiece of Yead Miller, by these gloves. + +FALSTAFF Is this true, Pistol? + +SIR HUGH EVANS No; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. + +PISTOL Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! Sir John and Master mine, + I combat challenge of this latten bilbo. + Word of denial in thy labras here! + Word of denial: froth and scum, thou liest! + +SLENDER By these gloves, then, 'twas he. + +NYM Be avised, sir, and pass good humours: I will say + 'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's + humour on me; that is the very note of it. + +SLENDER By this hat, then, he in the red face had it; for + though I cannot remember what I did when you made me + drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass. + +FALSTAFF What say you, Scarlet and John? + +BARDOLPH Why, sir, for my part I say the gentleman had drunk + himself out of his five sentences. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is his five senses: fie, what the ignorance is! + +BARDOLPH And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashiered; and + so conclusions passed the careires. + +SLENDER Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 'tis no + matter: I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, + but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick: + if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have + the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves. + +SIR HUGH EVANS So Got udge me, that is a virtuous mind. + +FALSTAFF You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen; you hear it. + + [Enter ANNE PAGE, with wine; MISTRESS FORD + and MISTRESS PAGE, following] + +PAGE Nay, daughter, carry the wine in; we'll drink within. + + [Exit ANNE PAGE] + +SLENDER O heaven! this is Mistress Anne Page. + +PAGE How now, Mistress Ford! + +FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are very well met: + by your leave, good mistress. + + [Kisses her] + +PAGE Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. Come, we have a + hot venison pasty to dinner: come, gentlemen, I hope + we shall drink down all unkindness. + + [Exeunt all except SHALLOW, SLENDER, and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +SLENDER I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of + Songs and Sonnets here. + + [Enter SIMPLE] + + How now, Simple! where have you been? I must wait + on myself, must I? You have not the Book of Riddles + about you, have you? + +SIMPLE Book of Riddles! why, did you not lend it to Alice + Shortcake upon All-hallowmas last, a fortnight + afore Michaelmas? + +SHALLOW Come, coz; come, coz; we stay for you. A word with + you, coz; marry, this, coz: there is, as 'twere, a + tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh + here. Do you understand me? + +SLENDER Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable; if it be so, + I shall do that that is reason. + +SHALLOW Nay, but understand me. + +SLENDER So I do, sir. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Give ear to his motions, Master Slender: I will + description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it. + +SLENDER Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow says: I pray + you, pardon me; he's a justice of peace in his + country, simple though I stand here. + +SIR HUGH EVANS But that is not the question: the question is + concerning your marriage. + +SHALLOW Ay, there's the point, sir. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Marry, is it; the very point of it; to Mistress Anne Page. + +SLENDER Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any + reasonable demands. + +SIR HUGH EVANS But can you affection the 'oman? Let us command to + know that of your mouth or of your lips; for divers + philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the + mouth. Therefore, precisely, can you carry your + good will to the maid? + +SHALLOW Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her? + +SLENDER I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that + would do reason. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Nay, Got's lords and his ladies! you must speak + possitable, if you can carry her your desires + towards her. + +SHALLOW That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, marry her? + +SLENDER I will do a greater thing than that, upon your + request, cousin, in any reason. + +SHALLOW Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz: what I do + is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid? + +SLENDER I will marry her, sir, at your request: but if there + be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may + decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are + married and have more occasion to know one another; + I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt: + but if you say, 'Marry her,' I will marry her; that + I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is a fery discretion answer; save the fall is in + the ort 'dissolutely:' the ort is, according to our + meaning, 'resolutely:' his meaning is good. + +SHALLOW Ay, I think my cousin meant well. + +SLENDER Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la! + +SHALLOW Here comes fair Mistress Anne. + + [Re-enter ANNE PAGE] + + Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne! + +ANNE PAGE The dinner is on the table; my father desires your + worships' company. + +SHALLOW I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Od's plessed will! I will not be absence at the grace. + + [Exeunt SHALLOW and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +ANNE PAGE Will't please your worship to come in, sir? + +SLENDER No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; I am very well. + +ANNE PAGE The dinner attends you, sir. + +SLENDER I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go, + sirrah, for all you are my man, go wait upon my + cousin Shallow. + + [Exit SIMPLE] + + A justice of peace sometimes may be beholding to his + friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy + yet, till my mother be dead: but what though? Yet I + live like a poor gentleman born. + +ANNE PAGE I may not go in without your worship: they will not + sit till you come. + +SLENDER I' faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as + though I did. + +ANNE PAGE I pray you, sir, walk in. + +SLENDER I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruised + my shin th' other day with playing at sword and + dagger with a master of fence; three veneys for a + dish of stewed prunes; and, by my troth, I cannot + abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your + dogs bark so? be there bears i' the town? + +ANNE PAGE I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of. + +SLENDER I love the sport well but I shall as soon quarrel at + it as any man in England. You are afraid, if you see + the bear loose, are you not? + +ANNE PAGE Ay, indeed, sir. + +SLENDER That's meat and drink to me, now. I have seen + Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by + the chain; but, I warrant you, the women have so + cried and shrieked at it, that it passed: but women, + indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill-favored + rough things. + + [Re-enter PAGE] + +PAGE Come, gentle Master Slender, come; we stay for you. + +SLENDER I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir. + +PAGE By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir! come, come. + +SLENDER Nay, pray you, lead the way. + +PAGE Come on, sir. + +SLENDER Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. + +ANNE PAGE Not I, sir; pray you, keep on. + +SLENDER I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome. + You do yourself wrong, indeed, la! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE] + +SIR HUGH EVANS Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which + is the way: and there dwells one Mistress Quickly, + which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry + nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and + his wringer. + +SIMPLE Well, sir. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Nay, it is petter yet. Give her this letter; for it + is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with + Mistress Anne Page: and the letter is, to desire + and require her to solicit your master's desires to + Mistress Anne Page. I pray you, be gone: I will + make an end of my dinner; there's pippins and cheese to come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF, Host, BARDOLPH, NYM, PISTOL, + and ROBIN] + +FALSTAFF Mine host of the Garter! + +Host What says my bully-rook? speak scholarly and wisely. + +FALSTAFF Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my + followers. + +Host Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let them wag; trot, trot. + +FALSTAFF I sit at ten pounds a week. + +Host Thou'rt an emperor, Caesar, Keisar, and Pheezar. I + will entertain Bardolph; he shall draw, he shall + tap: said I well, bully Hector? + +FALSTAFF Do so, good mine host. + +Host I have spoke; let him follow. + + [To BARDOLPH] + + Let me see thee froth and lime: I am at a word; follow. + + [Exit] + +FALSTAFF Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade: + an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered + serving-man a fresh tapster. Go; adieu. + +BARDOLPH It is a life that I have desired: I will thrive. + +PISTOL O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + +NYM He was gotten in drink: is not the humour conceited? + +FALSTAFF I am glad I am so acquit of this tinderbox: his + thefts were too open; his filching was like an + unskilful singer; he kept not time. + +NYM The good humour is to steal at a minute's rest. + +PISTOL 'Convey,' the wise it call. 'Steal!' foh! a fico + for the phrase! + +FALSTAFF Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. + +PISTOL Why, then, let kibes ensue. + +FALSTAFF There is no remedy; I must cony-catch; I must shift. + +PISTOL Young ravens must have food. + +FALSTAFF Which of you know Ford of this town? + +PISTOL I ken the wight: he is of substance good. + +FALSTAFF My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about. + +PISTOL Two yards, and more. + +FALSTAFF No quips now, Pistol! Indeed, I am in the waist two + yards about; but I am now about no waste; I am about + thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's + wife: I spy entertainment in her; she discourses, + she carves, she gives the leer of invitation: I + can construe the action of her familiar style; and + the hardest voice of her behavior, to be Englished + rightly, is, 'I am Sir John Falstaff's.' + +PISTOL He hath studied her will, and translated her will, + out of honesty into English. + +NYM The anchor is deep: will that humour pass? + +FALSTAFF Now, the report goes she has all the rule of her + husband's purse: he hath a legion of angels. + +PISTOL As many devils entertain; and 'To her, boy,' say I. + +NYM The humour rises; it is good: humour me the angels. + +FALSTAFF I have writ me here a letter to her: and here + another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good + eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious + oeillades; sometimes the beam of her view gilded my + foot, sometimes my portly belly. + +PISTOL Then did the sun on dunghill shine. + +NYM I thank thee for that humour. + +FALSTAFF O, she did so course o'er my exteriors with such a + greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye did + seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass! Here's + another letter to her: she bears the purse too; she + is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will + be cheater to them both, and they shall be + exchequers to me; they shall be my East and West + Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go bear thou + this letter to Mistress Page; and thou this to + Mistress Ford: we will thrive, lads, we will thrive. + +PISTOL Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become, + And by my side wear steel? then, Lucifer take all! + +NYM I will run no base humour: here, take the + humour-letter: I will keep the havior of reputation. + +FALSTAFF [To ROBIN] Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; + Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. + Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hailstones, go; + Trudge, plod away o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack! + Falstaff will learn the humour of the age, + French thrift, you rogues; myself and skirted page. + + [Exeunt FALSTAFF and ROBIN] + +PISTOL Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd and fullam holds, + And high and low beguiles the rich and poor: + Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, + Base Phrygian Turk! + +NYM I have operations which be humours of revenge. + +PISTOL Wilt thou revenge? + +NYM By welkin and her star! + +PISTOL With wit or steel? + +NYM With both the humours, I: + I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. + +PISTOL And I to Ford shall eke unfold + How Falstaff, varlet vile, + His dove will prove, his gold will hold, + And his soft couch defile. + +NYM My humour shall not cool: I will incense Page to + deal with poison; I will possess him with + yellowness, for the revolt of mine is dangerous: + that is my true humour. + +PISTOL Thou art the Mars of malecontents: I second thee; troop on. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV A room in DOCTOR CAIUS' house. + + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, SIMPLE, and RUGBY] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY What, John Rugby! I pray thee, go to the casement, + and see if you can see my master, Master Doctor + Caius, coming. If he do, i' faith, and find any + body in the house, here will be an old abusing of + God's patience and the king's English. + +RUGBY I'll go watch. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Go; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in + faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. + + [Exit RUGBY] + + An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant + shall come in house withal, and, I warrant you, no + tell-tale nor no breed-bate: his worst fault is, + that he is given to prayer; he is something peevish + that way: but nobody but has his fault; but let + that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is? + +SIMPLE Ay, for fault of a better. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY And Master Slender's your master? + +SIMPLE Ay, forsooth. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Does he not wear a great round beard, like a + glover's paring-knife? + +SIMPLE No, forsooth: he hath but a little wee face, with a + little yellow beard, a Cain-coloured beard. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY A softly-sprighted man, is he not? + +SIMPLE Ay, forsooth: but he is as tall a man of his hands + as any is between this and his head; he hath fought + with a warrener. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY How say you? O, I should remember him: does he not + hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait? + +SIMPLE Yes, indeed, does he. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse fortune! Tell + Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your + master: Anne is a good girl, and I wish-- + + [Re-enter RUGBY] + +RUGBY Out, alas! here comes my master. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY We shall all be shent. Run in here, good young man; + go into this closet: he will not stay long. + + [Shuts SIMPLE in the closet] + + What, John Rugby! John! what, John, I say! + Go, John, go inquire for my master; I doubt + he be not well, that he comes not home. + + [Singing] + + And down, down, adown-a, &c. + + [Enter DOCTOR CAIUS] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vat is you sing? I do not like des toys. Pray you, + go and vetch me in my closet un boitier vert, a box, + a green-a box: do intend vat I speak? a green-a box. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth; I'll fetch it you. + + [Aside] + + I am glad he went not in himself: if he had found + the young man, he would have been horn-mad. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Fe, fe, fe, fe! ma foi, il fait fort chaud. Je + m'en vais a la cour--la grande affaire. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Is it this, sir? + +DOCTOR CAIUS Oui; mette le au mon pocket: depeche, quickly. Vere + is dat knave Rugby? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY What, John Rugby! John! + +RUGBY Here, sir! + +DOCTOR CAIUS You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rugby. Come, + take-a your rapier, and come after my heel to the court. + +RUGBY 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me! + Qu'ai-j'oublie! dere is some simples in my closet, + dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay me, he'll find the young man here, and be mad! + +DOCTOR CAIUS O diable, diable! vat is in my closet? Villain! larron! + + [Pulling SIMPLE out] + + Rugby, my rapier! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Good master, be content. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Wherefore shall I be content-a? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY The young man is an honest man. + +DOCTOR CAIUS What shall de honest man do in my closet? dere is + no honest man dat shall come in my closet. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic. Hear the truth + of it: he came of an errand to me from Parson Hugh. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vell. + +SIMPLE Ay, forsooth; to desire her to-- + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Peace, I pray you. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Peace-a your tongue. Speak-a your tale. + +SIMPLE To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to + speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my + master in the way of marriage. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY This is all, indeed, la! but I'll ne'er put my + finger in the fire, and need not. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Sir Hugh send-a you? Rugby, baille me some paper. + Tarry you a little-a while. + + [Writes] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY [Aside to SIMPLE] I am glad he is so quiet: if he + had been thoroughly moved, you should have heard him + so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, + man, I'll do you your master what good I can: and + the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my + master,--I may call him my master, look you, for I + keep his house; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, + scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds and do + all myself,-- + +SIMPLE [Aside to MISTRESS QUICKLY] 'Tis a great charge to + come under one body's hand. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY [Aside to SIMPLE] Are you avised o' that? you + shall find it a great charge: and to be up early + and down late; but notwithstanding,--to tell you in + your ear; I would have no words of it,--my master + himself is in love with Mistress Anne Page: but + notwithstanding that, I know Anne's mind,--that's + neither here nor there. + +DOCTOR CAIUS You jack'nape, give-a this letter to Sir Hugh; by + gar, it is a shallenge: I will cut his troat in dee + park; and I will teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest + to meddle or make. You may be gone; it is not good + you tarry here. By gar, I will cut all his two + stones; by gar, he shall not have a stone to throw + at his dog: + + [Exit SIMPLE] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Alas, he speaks but for his friend. + +DOCTOR CAIUS It is no matter-a ver dat: do not you tell-a me + dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? By gar, I + vill kill de Jack priest; and I have appointed mine + host of de Jarteer to measure our weapon. By gar, I + will myself have Anne Page. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well. We + must give folks leave to prate: what, the good-jer! + +DOCTOR CAIUS Rugby, come to the court with me. By gar, if I have + not Anne Page, I shall turn your head out of my + door. Follow my heels, Rugby. + + [Exeunt DOCTOR CAIUS and RUGBY] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY You shall have An fool's-head of your own. No, I + know Anne's mind for that: never a woman in Windsor + knows more of Anne's mind than I do; nor can do more + than I do with her, I thank heaven. + +FENTON [Within] Who's within there? ho! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Who's there, I trow! Come near the house, I pray you. + + [Enter FENTON] + +FENTON How now, good woman? how dost thou? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY The better that it pleases your good worship to ask. + +FENTON What news? how does pretty Mistress Anne? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY In truth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and + gentle; and one that is your friend, I can tell you + that by the way; I praise heaven for it. + +FENTON Shall I do any good, thinkest thou? shall I not lose my suit? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Troth, sir, all is in his hands above: but + notwithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a + book, she loves you. Have not your worship a wart + above your eye? + +FENTON Yes, marry, have I; what of that? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, thereby hangs a tale: good faith, it is such + another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever + broke bread: we had an hour's talk of that wart. I + shall never laugh but in that maid's company! But + indeed she is given too much to allicholy and + musing: but for you--well, go to. + +FENTON Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money + for thee; let me have thy voice in my behalf: if + thou seest her before me, commend me. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Will I? i'faith, that we will; and I will tell your + worship more of the wart the next time we have + confidence; and of other wooers. + +FENTON Well, farewell; I am in great haste now. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Farewell to your worship. + + [Exit FENTON] + + Truly, an honest gentleman: but Anne loves him not; + for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. Out + upon't! what have I forgot? + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Before PAGE'S house. + + + [Enter MISTRESS PAGE, with a letter] + +MISTRESS PAGE What, have I scaped love-letters in the holiday- + time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them? + Let me see. + + [Reads] + + 'Ask me no reason why I love you; for though + Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him + not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more + am I; go to then, there's sympathy: you are merry, + so am I; ha, ha! then there's more sympathy: you + love sack, and so do I; would you desire better + sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page,--at + the least, if the love of soldier can suffice,-- + that I love thee. I will not say, pity me; 'tis + not a soldier-like phrase: but I say, love me. By me, + Thine own true knight, + By day or night, + Or any kind of light, + With all his might + For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF' + What a Herod of Jewry is this! O wicked + world! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with + age to show himself a young gallant! What an + unweighed behavior hath this Flemish drunkard + picked--with the devil's name!--out of my + conversation, that he dares in this manner assay me? + Why, he hath not been thrice in my company! What + should I say to him? I was then frugal of my + mirth: Heaven forgive me! Why, I'll exhibit a bill + in the parliament for the putting down of men. How + shall I be revenged on him? for revenged I will be, + as sure as his guts are made of puddings. + + [Enter MISTRESS FORD] + +MISTRESS FORD Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house. + +MISTRESS PAGE And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very + ill. + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, I'll ne'er believe that; I have to show to the contrary. + +MISTRESS PAGE Faith, but you do, in my mind. + +MISTRESS FORD Well, I do then; yet I say I could show you to the + contrary. O Mistress Page, give me some counsel! + +MISTRESS PAGE What's the matter, woman? + +MISTRESS FORD O woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I + could come to such honour! + +MISTRESS PAGE Hang the trifle, woman! take the honour. What is + it? dispense with trifles; what is it? + +MISTRESS FORD If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment or so, + I could be knighted. + +MISTRESS PAGE What? thou liest! Sir Alice Ford! These knights + will hack; and so thou shouldst not alter the + article of thy gentry. + +MISTRESS FORD We burn daylight: here, read, read; perceive how I + might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat + men, as long as I have an eye to make difference of + men's liking: and yet he would not swear; praised + women's modesty; and gave such orderly and + well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that I + would have sworn his disposition would have gone to + the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere + and keep place together than the Hundredth Psalm to + the tune of 'Green Sleeves.' What tempest, I trow, + threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his + belly, ashore at Windsor? How shall I be revenged + on him? I think the best way were to entertain him + with hope, till the wicked fire of lust have melted + him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like? + +MISTRESS PAGE Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and + Ford differs! To thy great comfort in this mystery + of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy + letter: but let thine inherit first; for, I + protest, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a + thousand of these letters, writ with blank space for + different names--sure, more,--and these are of the + second edition: he will print them, out of doubt; + for he cares not what he puts into the press, when + he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, + and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you + twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man. + +MISTRESS FORD Why, this is the very same; the very hand, the very + words. What doth he think of us? + +MISTRESS PAGE Nay, I know not: it makes me almost ready to + wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll entertain + myself like one that I am not acquainted withal; + for, sure, unless he know some strain in me, that I + know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury. + +MISTRESS FORD 'Boarding,' call you it? I'll be sure to keep him + above deck. + +MISTRESS PAGE So will I if he come under my hatches, I'll never + to sea again. Let's be revenged on him: let's + appoint him a meeting; give him a show of comfort in + his suit and lead him on with a fine-baited delay, + till he hath pawned his horses to mine host of the Garter. + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, I will consent to act any villany against him, + that may not sully the chariness of our honesty. O, + that my husband saw this letter! it would give + eternal food to his jealousy. + +MISTRESS PAGE Why, look where he comes; and my good man too: he's + as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause; + and that I hope is an unmeasurable distance. + +MISTRESS FORD You are the happier woman. + +MISTRESS PAGE Let's consult together against this greasy knight. + Come hither. + + [They retire] + + [Enter FORD with PISTOL, and PAGE with NYM] + +FORD Well, I hope it be not so. + +PISTOL Hope is a curtal dog in some affairs: + Sir John affects thy wife. + +FORD Why, sir, my wife is not young. + +PISTOL He wooes both high and low, both rich and poor, + Both young and old, one with another, Ford; + He loves the gallimaufry: Ford, perpend. + +FORD Love my wife! + +PISTOL With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, + Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels: + O, odious is the name! + +FORD What name, sir? + +PISTOL The horn, I say. Farewell. + Take heed, have open eye, for thieves do foot by night: + Take heed, ere summer comes or cuckoo-birds do sing. + Away, Sir Corporal Nym! + Believe it, Page; he speaks sense. + + [Exit] + +FORD [Aside] I will be patient; I will find out this. + +NYM [To PAGE] And this is true; I like not the humour + of lying. He hath wronged me in some humours: I + should have borne the humoured letter to her; but I + have a sword and it shall bite upon my necessity. + He loves your wife; there's the short and the long. + My name is Corporal Nym; I speak and I avouch; 'tis + true: my name is Nym and Falstaff loves your wife. + Adieu. I love not the humour of bread and cheese, + and there's the humour of it. Adieu. + + [Exit] + +PAGE 'The humour of it,' quoth a'! here's a fellow + frights English out of his wits. + +FORD I will seek out Falstaff. + +PAGE I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue. + +FORD If I do find it: well. + +PAGE I will not believe such a Cataian, though the priest + o' the town commended him for a true man. + +FORD 'Twas a good sensible fellow: well. + +PAGE How now, Meg! + + [MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD come forward] + +MISTRESS PAGE Whither go you, George? Hark you. + +MISTRESS FORD How now, sweet Frank! why art thou melancholy? + +FORD I melancholy! I am not melancholy. Get you home, go. + +MISTRESS FORD Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head. Now, + will you go, Mistress Page? + +MISTRESS PAGE Have with you. You'll come to dinner, George. + + [Aside to MISTRESS FORD] + + Look who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger + to this paltry knight. + +MISTRESS FORD [Aside to MISTRESS PAGE] Trust me, I thought on her: + she'll fit it. + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +MISTRESS PAGE You are come to see my daughter Anne? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth; and, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne? + +MISTRESS PAGE Go in with us and see: we have an hour's talk with + you. + + [Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +PAGE How now, Master Ford! + +FORD You heard what this knave told me, did you not? + +PAGE Yes: and you heard what the other told me? + +FORD Do you think there is truth in them? + +PAGE Hang 'em, slaves! I do not think the knight would + offer it: but these that accuse him in his intent + towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men; + very rogues, now they be out of service. + +FORD Were they his men? + +PAGE Marry, were they. + +FORD I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at + the Garter? + +PAGE Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage + towards my wife, I would turn her loose to him; and + what he gets more of her than sharp words, let it + lie on my head. + +FORD I do not misdoubt my wife; but I would be loath to + turn them together. A man may be too confident: I + would have nothing lie on my head: I cannot be thus satisfied. + +PAGE Look where my ranting host of the Garter comes: + there is either liquor in his pate or money in his + purse when he looks so merrily. + + [Enter Host] + + How now, mine host! + +Host How now, bully-rook! thou'rt a gentleman. + Cavaleiro-justice, I say! + + [Enter SHALLOW] + +SHALLOW I follow, mine host, I follow. Good even and + twenty, good Master Page! Master Page, will you go + with us? we have sport in hand. + +Host Tell him, cavaleiro-justice; tell him, bully-rook. + +SHALLOW Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh + the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor. + +FORD Good mine host o' the Garter, a word with you. + + [Drawing him aside] + +Host What sayest thou, my bully-rook? + +SHALLOW [To PAGE] Will you go with us to behold it? My + merry host hath had the measuring of their weapons; + and, I think, hath appointed them contrary places; + for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. + Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be. + + [They converse apart] + +Host Hast thou no suit against my knight, my + guest-cavaleire? + +FORD None, I protest: but I'll give you a pottle of + burnt sack to give me recourse to him and tell him + my name is Brook; only for a jest. + +Host My hand, bully; thou shalt have egress and regress; + --said I well?--and thy name shall be Brook. It is + a merry knight. Will you go, An-heires? + +SHALLOW Have with you, mine host. + +PAGE I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in + his rapier. + +SHALLOW Tut, sir, I could have told you more. In these times + you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and + I know not what: 'tis the heart, Master Page; 'tis + here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long + sword I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats. + +Host Here, boys, here, here! shall we wag? + +PAGE Have with you. I would rather hear them scold than fight. + + [Exeunt Host, SHALLOW, and PAGE] + +FORD Though Page be a secure fool, an stands so firmly + on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my + opinion so easily: she was in his company at Page's + house; and what they made there, I know not. Well, + I will look further into't: and I have a disguise + to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not + my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and PISTOL] + + +FALSTAFF I will not lend thee a penny. + +PISTOL Why, then the world's mine oyster. + Which I with sword will open. + +FALSTAFF Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should + lay my countenance to pawn; I have grated upon my + good friends for three reprieves for you and your + coach-fellow Nym; or else you had looked through + the grate, like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in + hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends, you were + good soldiers and tall fellows; and when Mistress + Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't upon + mine honour thou hadst it not. + +PISTOL Didst not thou share? hadst thou not fifteen pence? + +FALSTAFF Reason, you rogue, reason: thinkest thou I'll + endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no more + about me, I am no gibbet for you. Go. A short knife + and a throng! To your manor of Pickt-hatch! Go. + You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue! you + stand upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable + baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the + terms of my honour precise: I, I, I myself + sometimes, leaving the fear of God on the left hand + and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to + shuffle, to hedge and to lurch; and yet you, rogue, + will ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain + looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your + bold-beating oaths, under the shelter of your + honour! You will not do it, you! + +PISTOL I do relent: what would thou more of man? + + [Enter ROBIN] + +ROBIN Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. + +FALSTAFF Let her approach. + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Give your worship good morrow. + +FALSTAFF Good morrow, good wife. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Not so, an't please your worship. + +FALSTAFF Good maid, then. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I'll be sworn, + As my mother was, the first hour I was born. + +FALSTAFF I do believe the swearer. What with me? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two? + +FALSTAFF Two thousand, fair woman: and I'll vouchsafe thee + the hearing. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY There is one Mistress Ford, sir:--I pray, come a + little nearer this ways:--I myself dwell with master + Doctor Caius,-- + +FALSTAFF Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say,-- + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Your worship says very true: I pray your worship, + come a little nearer this ways. + +FALSTAFF I warrant thee, nobody hears; mine own people, mine + own people. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Are they so? God bless them and make them his servants! + +FALSTAFF Well, Mistress Ford; what of her? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord Lord! your + worship's a wanton! Well, heaven forgive you and all + of us, I pray! + +FALSTAFF Mistress Ford; come, Mistress Ford,-- + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, this is the short and the long of it; you + have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis + wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the + court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her + to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, and + lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches, I warrant + you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift + after gift; smelling so sweetly, all musk, and so + rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and in + such alligant terms; and in such wine and sugar of + the best and the fairest, that would have won any + woman's heart; and, I warrant you, they could never + get an eye-wink of her: I had myself twenty angels + given me this morning; but I defy all angels, in + any such sort, as they say, but in the way of + honesty: and, I warrant you, they could never get + her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of + them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, which + is more, pensioners; but, I warrant you, all is one with her. + +FALSTAFF But what says she to me? be brief, my good + she-Mercury. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, she hath received your letter, for the which + she thanks you a thousand times; and she gives you + to notify that her husband will be absence from his + house between ten and eleven. + +FALSTAFF Ten and eleven? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, forsooth; and then you may come and see the + picture, she says, that you wot of: Master Ford, + her husband, will be from home. Alas! the sweet + woman leads an ill life with him: he's a very + jealousy man: she leads a very frampold life with + him, good heart. + +FALSTAFF Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her; I will + not fail her. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Why, you say well. But I have another messenger to + your worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty + commendations to you too: and let me tell you in + your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and + one, I tell you, that will not miss you morning nor + evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the + other: and she bade me tell your worship that her + husband is seldom from home; but she hopes there + will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon + a man: surely I think you have charms, la; yes, in truth. + +FALSTAFF Not I, I assure thee: setting the attractions of my + good parts aside I have no other charms. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Blessing on your heart for't! + +FALSTAFF But, I pray thee, tell me this: has Ford's wife and + Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY That were a jest indeed! they have not so little + grace, I hope: that were a trick indeed! but + Mistress Page would desire you to send her your + little page, of all loves: her husband has a + marvellous infection to the little page; and truly + Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in + Windsor leads a better life than she does: do what + she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go + to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as + she will: and truly she deserves it; for if there + be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must + send her your page; no remedy. + +FALSTAFF Why, I will. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Nay, but do so, then: and, look you, he may come and + go between you both; and in any case have a + nay-word, that you may know one another's mind, and + the boy never need to understand any thing; for + 'tis not good that children should know any + wickedness: old folks, you know, have discretion, + as they say, and know the world. + +FALSTAFF Fare thee well: commend me to them both: there's + my purse; I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go along with + this woman. + + [Exeunt MISTRESS QUICKLY and ROBIN] + + This news distracts me! + +PISTOL This punk is one of Cupid's carriers: + Clap on more sails; pursue; up with your fights: + Give fire: she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all! + + [Exit] + +FALSTAFF Sayest thou so, old Jack? go thy ways; I'll make + more of thy old body than I have done. Will they + yet look after thee? Wilt thou, after the expense + of so much money, be now a gainer? Good body, I + thank thee. Let them say 'tis grossly done; so it be + fairly done, no matter. + + [Enter BARDOLPH] + +BARDOLPH Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would fain + speak with you, and be acquainted with you; and hath + sent your worship a morning's draught of sack. + +FALSTAFF Brook is his name? + +BARDOLPH Ay, sir. + +FALSTAFF Call him in. + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + + Such Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflow such + liquor. Ah, ha! Mistress Ford and Mistress Page + have I encompassed you? go to; via! + + [Re-enter BARDOLPH, with FORD disguised] + +FORD Bless you, sir! + +FALSTAFF And you, sir! Would you speak with me? + +FORD I make bold to press with so little preparation upon + you. + +FALSTAFF You're welcome. What's your will? Give us leave, drawer. + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + +FORD Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much; my name is Brook. + +FALSTAFF Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaintance of you. + +FORD Good Sir John, I sue for yours: not to charge you; + for I must let you understand I think myself in + better plight for a lender than you are: the which + hath something embolden'd me to this unseasoned + intrusion; for they say, if money go before, all + ways do lie open. + +FALSTAFF Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. + +FORD Troth, and I have a bag of money here troubles me: + if you will help to bear it, Sir John, take all, or + half, for easing me of the carriage. + +FALSTAFF Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your porter. + +FORD I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hearing. + +FALSTAFF Speak, good Master Brook: I shall be glad to be + your servant. + +FORD Sir, I hear you are a scholar,--I will be brief + with you,--and you have been a man long known to me, + though I had never so good means, as desire, to make + myself acquainted with you. I shall discover a + thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine + own imperfection: but, good Sir John, as you have + one eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, + turn another into the register of your own; that I + may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you + yourself know how easy it is to be such an offender. + +FALSTAFF Very well, sir; proceed. + +FORD There is a gentlewoman in this town; her husband's + name is Ford. + +FALSTAFF Well, sir. + +FORD I have long loved her, and, I protest to you, + bestowed much on her; followed her with a doting + observance; engrossed opportunities to meet her; + fee'd every slight occasion that could but niggardly + give me sight of her; not only bought many presents + to give her, but have given largely to many to know + what she would have given; briefly, I have pursued + her as love hath pursued me; which hath been on the + wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I have + merited, either in my mind or, in my means, meed, + I am sure, I have received none; unless experience + be a jewel that I have purchased at an infinite + rate, and that hath taught me to say this: + + 'Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues; + Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.' + +FALSTAFF Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands? + +FORD Never. + +FALSTAFF Have you importuned her to such a purpose? + +FORD Never. + +FALSTAFF Of what quality was your love, then? + +FORD Like a fair house built on another man's ground; so + that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place + where I erected it. + +FALSTAFF To what purpose have you unfolded this to me? + +FORD When I have told you that, I have told you all. + Some say, that though she appear honest to me, yet in + other places she enlargeth her mirth so far that + there is shrewd construction made of her. Now, Sir + John, here is the heart of my purpose: you are a + gentleman of excellent breeding, admirable + discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your + place and person, generally allowed for your many + war-like, court-like, and learned preparations. + +FALSTAFF O, sir! + +FORD Believe it, for you know it. There is money; spend + it, spend it; spend more; spend all I have; only + give me so much of your time in exchange of it, as + to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this + Ford's wife: use your art of wooing; win her to + consent to you: if any man may, you may as soon as + any. + +FALSTAFF Would it apply well to the vehemency of your + affection, that I should win what you would enjoy? + Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposterously. + +FORD O, understand my drift. She dwells so securely on + the excellency of her honour, that the folly of my + soul dares not present itself: she is too bright to + be looked against. Now, could I could come to her + with any detection in my hand, my desires had + instance and argument to commend themselves: I + could drive her then from the ward of her purity, + her reputation, her marriage-vow, and a thousand + other her defences, which now are too too strongly + embattled against me. What say you to't, Sir John? + +FALSTAFF Master Brook, I will first make bold with your + money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am a + gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. + +FORD O good sir! + +FALSTAFF I say you shall. + +FORD Want no money, Sir John; you shall want none. + +FALSTAFF Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook; you shall want + none. I shall be with her, I may tell you, by her + own appointment; even as you came in to me, her + assistant or go-between parted from me: I say I + shall be with her between ten and eleven; for at + that time the jealous rascally knave her husband + will be forth. Come you to me at night; you shall + know how I speed. + +FORD I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, + sir? + +FALSTAFF Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I know him not: + yet I wrong him to call him poor; they say the + jealous wittolly knave hath masses of money; for the + which his wife seems to me well-favored. I will + use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer; + and there's my harvest-home. + +FORD I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him + if you saw him. + +FALSTAFF Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue! I will + stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my + cudgel: it shall hang like a meteor o'er the + cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I + will predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt + lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night. + Ford's a knave, and I will aggravate his style; + thou, Master Brook, shalt know him for knave and + cuckold. Come to me soon at night. + + [Exit] + +FORD What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is + ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is + improvident jealousy? my wife hath sent to him; the + hour is fixed; the match is made. Would any man + have thought this? See the hell of having a false + woman! My bed shall be abused, my coffers + ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not + only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under + the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that + does me this wrong. Terms! names! Amaimon sounds + well; Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are + devils' additions, the names of fiends: but + Cuckold! Wittol!--Cuckold! the devil himself hath + not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass: he + will trust his wife; he will not be jealous. I will + rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh + the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my + aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling + gelding, than my wife with herself; then she plots, + then she ruminates, then she devises; and what they + think in their hearts they may effect, they will + break their hearts but they will effect. God be + praised for my jealousy! Eleven o'clock the hour. + I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on + Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it; + better three hours too soon than a minute too late. + Fie, fie, fie! cuckold! cuckold! cuckold! + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A field near Windsor. + + + [Enter DOCTOR CAIUS and RUGBY] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Jack Rugby! + +RUGBY Sir? + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vat is de clock, Jack? + +RUGBY 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come; he + has pray his Pible well, dat he is no come: by gar, + Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come. + +RUGBY He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill + him, if he came. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. + Take your rapier, Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him. + +RUGBY Alas, sir, I cannot fence. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Villany, take your rapier. + +RUGBY Forbear; here's company. + + [Enter Host, SHALLOW, SLENDER, and PAGE] + +Host Bless thee, bully doctor! + +SHALLOW Save you, Master Doctor Caius! + +PAGE Now, good master doctor! + +SLENDER Give you good morrow, sir. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come for? + +Host To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee + traverse; to see thee here, to see thee there; to + see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy + distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian? is + he dead, my Francisco? ha, bully! What says my + AEsculapius? my Galen? my heart of elder? ha! is + he dead, bully stale? is he dead? + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of de vorld; he + is not show his face. + +Host Thou art a Castalion-King-Urinal. Hector of Greece, my boy! + +DOCTOR CAIUS I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or + seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come. + +SHALLOW He is the wiser man, master doctor: he is a curer of + souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should + fight, you go against the hair of your professions. + Is it not true, Master Page? + +PAGE Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great + fighter, though now a man of peace. + +SHALLOW Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old and of + the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to + make one. Though we are justices and doctors and + churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our + youth in us; we are the sons of women, Master Page. + +PAGE 'Tis true, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor + Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of + the peace: you have showed yourself a wise + physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise + and patient churchman. You must go with me, master doctor. + +Host Pardon, guest-justice. A word, Mounseur Mockwater. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Mock-vater! vat is dat? + +Host Mock-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, den, I have as mush mock-vater as de + Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest! by gar, me + vill cut his ears. + +Host He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat? + +Host That is, he will make thee amends. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me; + for, by gar, me vill have it. + +Host And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Me tank you for dat. + +Host And, moreover, bully,--but first, master guest, and + Master Page, and eke Cavaleiro Slender, go you + through the town to Frogmore. + + [Aside to them] + +PAGE Sir Hugh is there, is he? + +Host He is there: see what humour he is in; and I will + bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well? + +SHALLOW We will do it. + + +PAGE | + | +SHALLOW | Adieu, good master doctor. + | +SLENDER | + + + [Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER] + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me vill kill de priest; for he speak for a + jack-an-ape to Anne Page. + +Host Let him die: sheathe thy impatience, throw cold + water on thy choler: go about the fields with me + through Frogmore: I will bring thee where Mistress + Anne Page is, at a farm-house a-feasting; and thou + shalt woo her. Cried I aim? said I well? + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, me dank you for dat: by gar, I love you; + and I shall procure-a you de good guest, de earl, + de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients. + +Host For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne + Page. Said I well? + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, 'tis good; vell said. + +Host Let us wag, then. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A field near Frogmore. + + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS and SIMPLE] + +SIR HUGH EVANS I pray you now, good master Slender's serving-man, + and friend Simple by your name, which way have you + looked for Master Caius, that calls himself doctor of physic? + +SIMPLE Marry, sir, the pittie-ward, the park-ward, every + way; old Windsor way, and every way but the town + way. + +SIR HUGH EVANS I most fehemently desire you you will also look that + way. + +SIMPLE I will, sir. + + [Exit] + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Pless my soul, how full of chollors I am, and + trempling of mind! I shall be glad if he have + deceived me. How melancholies I am! I will knog + his urinals about his knave's costard when I have + good opportunities for the ork. 'Pless my soul! + + [Sings] + + To shallow rivers, to whose falls + Melodious birds sings madrigals; + There will we make our peds of roses, + And a thousand fragrant posies. + To shallow-- + + Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry. + + [Sings] + + Melodious birds sing madrigals-- + When as I sat in Pabylon-- + And a thousand vagram posies. + To shallow &c. + + [Re-enter SIMPLE] + +SIMPLE Yonder he is coming, this way, Sir Hugh. + +SIR HUGH EVANS He's welcome. + + [Sings] + + To shallow rivers, to whose falls- + Heaven prosper the right! What weapons is he? + +SIMPLE No weapons, sir. There comes my master, Master + Shallow, and another gentleman, from Frogmore, over + the stile, this way. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Pray you, give me my gown; or else keep it in your arms. + + [Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER] + +SHALLOW How now, master Parson! Good morrow, good Sir Hugh. + Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student + from his book, and it is wonderful. + +SLENDER [Aside] Ah, sweet Anne Page! + +PAGE 'Save you, good Sir Hugh! + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you! + +SHALLOW What, the sword and the word! do you study them + both, master parson? + +PAGE And youthful still! in your doublet and hose this + raw rheumatic day! + +SIR HUGH EVANS There is reasons and causes for it. + +PAGE We are come to you to do a good office, master parson. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Fery well: what is it? + +PAGE Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who, belike + having received wrong by some person, is at most + odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you + saw. + +SHALLOW I have lived fourscore years and upward; I never + heard a man of his place, gravity and learning, so + wide of his own respect. + +SIR HUGH EVANS What is he? + +PAGE I think you know him; Master Doctor Caius, the + renowned French physician. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Got's will, and his passion of my heart! I had as + lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge. + +PAGE Why? + +SIR HUGH EVANS He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen, + --and he is a knave besides; a cowardly knave as you + would desires to be acquainted withal. + +PAGE I warrant you, he's the man should fight with him. + +SHALLOW [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! + +SHALLOW It appears so by his weapons. Keep them asunder: + here comes Doctor Caius. + + [Enter Host, DOCTOR CAIUS, and RUGBY] + +PAGE Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon. + +SHALLOW So do you, good master doctor. + +Host Disarm them, and let them question: let them keep + their limbs whole and hack our English. + +DOCTOR CAIUS I pray you, let-a me speak a word with your ear. + Vherefore vill you not meet-a me? + +SIR HUGH EVANS [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you, use your patience: + in good time. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape. + +SIR HUGH EVANS [Aside to DOCTOR CAIUS] Pray you let us not be + laughing-stocks to other men's humours; I desire you + in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. + + [Aloud] + + I will knog your urinals about your knave's cockscomb + for missing your meetings and appointments. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Diable! Jack Rugby,--mine host de Jarteer,--have I + not stay for him to kill him? have I not, at de place + I did appoint? + +SIR HUGH EVANS As I am a Christians soul now, look you, this is the + place appointed: I'll be judgement by mine host of + the Garter. + +Host Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, + soul-curer and body-curer! + +DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, dat is very good; excellent. + +Host Peace, I say! hear mine host of the Garter. Am I + politic? am I subtle? am I a Machiavel? Shall I + lose my doctor? no; he gives me the potions and the + motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir + Hugh? no; he gives me the proverbs and the + no-verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so. Give me + thy hand, celestial; so. Boys of art, I have + deceived you both; I have directed you to wrong + places: your hearts are mighty, your skins are + whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay + their swords to pawn. Follow me, lads of peace; + follow, follow, follow. + +SHALLOW Trust me, a mad host. Follow, gentlemen, follow. + +SLENDER [Aside] O sweet Anne Page! + + [Exeunt SHALLOW, SLENDER, PAGE, and Host] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Ha, do I perceive dat? have you make-a de sot of + us, ha, ha? + +SIR HUGH EVANS This is well; he has made us his vlouting-stog. I + desire you that we may be friends; and let us knog + our prains together to be revenge on this same + scall, scurvy cogging companion, the host of the Garter. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, with all my heart. He promise to bring me + where is Anne Page; by gar, he deceive me too. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A street. + + + [Enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN] + +MISTRESS PAGE Nay, keep your way, little gallant; you were wont to + be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether + had you rather lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels? + +ROBIN I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man + than follow him like a dwarf. + +MISTRESS PAGE O, you are a flattering boy: now I see you'll be a courtier. + + [Enter FORD] + +FORD Well met, Mistress Page. Whither go you? + +MISTRESS PAGE Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home? + +FORD Ay; and as idle as she may hang together, for want + of company. I think, if your husbands were dead, + you two would marry. + +MISTRESS PAGE Be sure of that,--two other husbands. + +FORD Where had you this pretty weather-cock? + +MISTRESS PAGE I cannot tell what the dickens his name is my + husband had him of. What do you call your knight's + name, sirrah? + +ROBIN Sir John Falstaff. + +FORD Sir John Falstaff! + +MISTRESS PAGE He, he; I can never hit on's name. There is such a + league between my good man and he! Is your wife at + home indeed? + +FORD Indeed she is. + +MISTRESS PAGE By your leave, sir: I am sick till I see her. + + [Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN] + +FORD Has Page any brains? hath he any eyes? hath he any + thinking? Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. + Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty mile, as + easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve + score. He pieces out his wife's inclination; he + gives her folly motion and advantage: and now she's + going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A + man may hear this shower sing in the wind. And + Falstaff's boy with her! Good plots, they are laid; + and our revolted wives share damnation together. + Well; I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck + the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming + Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and + wilful Actaeon; and to these violent proceedings all + my neighbours shall cry aim. + + [Clock heard] + + The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me + search: there I shall find Falstaff: I shall be + rather praised for this than mocked; for it is as + positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is + there: I will go. + + [Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, SLENDER, Host, + SIR HUGH EVANS, DOCTOR CAIUS, and RUGBY] + + +SHALLOW | + | +PAGE | Well met, Master Ford. + | +&C | + + +FORD Trust me, a good knot: I have good cheer at home; + and I pray you all go with me. + +SHALLOW I must excuse myself, Master Ford. + +SLENDER And so must I, sir: we have appointed to dine with + Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for + more money than I'll speak of. + +SHALLOW We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and + my cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer. + +SLENDER I hope I have your good will, father Page. + +PAGE You have, Master Slender; I stand wholly for you: + but my wife, master doctor, is for you altogether. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, be-gar; and de maid is love-a me: my nursh-a + Quickly tell me so mush. + +Host What say you to young Master Fenton? he capers, he + dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he + speaks holiday, he smells April and May: he will + carry't, he will carry't; 'tis in his buttons; he + will carry't. + +PAGE Not by my consent, I promise you. The gentleman is + of no having: he kept company with the wild prince + and Poins; he is of too high a region; he knows too + much. No, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes + with the finger of my substance: if he take her, + let him take her simply; the wealth I have waits on + my consent, and my consent goes not that way. + +FORD I beseech you heartily, some of you go home with me + to dinner: besides your cheer, you shall have + sport; I will show you a monster. Master doctor, + you shall go; so shall you, Master Page; and you, Sir Hugh. + +SHALLOW Well, fare you well: we shall have the freer wooing + at Master Page's. + + [Exeunt SHALLOW, and SLENDER] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Go home, John Rugby; I come anon. + + [Exit RUGBY] + +Host Farewell, my hearts: I will to my honest knight + Falstaff, and drink canary with him. + + [Exit] + +FORD [Aside] I think I shall drink in pipe wine first + with him; I'll make him dance. Will you go, gentles? + +All Have with you to see this monster. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A room in FORD'S house. + + + [Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE] + +MISTRESS FORD What, John! What, Robert! + +MISTRESS PAGE Quickly, quickly! is the buck-basket-- + +MISTRESS FORD I warrant. What, Robin, I say! + + [Enter Servants with a basket] + +MISTRESS PAGE Come, come, come. + +MISTRESS FORD Here, set it down. + +MISTRESS PAGE Give your men the charge; we must be brief. + +MISTRESS FORD Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be + ready here hard by in the brew-house: and when I + suddenly call you, come forth, and without any pause + or staggering take this basket on your shoulders: + that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry + it among the whitsters in Datchet-mead, and there + empty it in the muddy ditch close by the Thames side. + +MISTRESS PAGE You will do it? + +MISTRESS FORD I ha' told them over and over; they lack no + direction. Be gone, and come when you are called. + + [Exeunt Servants] + +MISTRESS PAGE Here comes little Robin. + + [Enter ROBIN] + +MISTRESS FORD How now, my eyas-musket! what news with you? + +ROBIN My master, Sir John, is come in at your back-door, + Mistress Ford, and requests your company. + +MISTRESS PAGE You little Jack-a-Lent, have you been true to us? + +ROBIN Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your + being here and hath threatened to put me into + everlasting liberty if I tell you of it; for he + swears he'll turn me away. + +MISTRESS PAGE Thou'rt a good boy: this secrecy of thine shall be + a tailor to thee and shall make thee a new doublet + and hose. I'll go hide me. + +MISTRESS FORD Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone. + + [Exit ROBIN] + + Mistress Page, remember you your cue. + +MISTRESS PAGE I warrant thee; if I do not act it, hiss me. + + [Exit] + +MISTRESS FORD Go to, then: we'll use this unwholesome humidity, + this gross watery pumpion; we'll teach him to know + turtles from jays. + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let + me die, for I have lived long enough: this is the + period of my ambition: O this blessed hour! + +MISTRESS FORD O sweet Sir John! + +FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, + Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish: I would + thy husband were dead: I'll speak it before the + best lord; I would make thee my lady. + +MISTRESS FORD I your lady, Sir John! alas, I should be a pitiful lady! + +FALSTAFF Let the court of France show me such another. I see + how thine eye would emulate the diamond: thou hast + the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the + ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of + Venetian admittance. + +MISTRESS FORD A plain kerchief, Sir John: my brows become nothing + else; nor that well neither. + +FALSTAFF By the Lord, thou art a traitor to say so: thou + wouldst make an absolute courtier; and the firm + fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion + to thy gait in a semi-circled farthingale. I see + what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not, Nature + thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it. + +MISTRESS FORD Believe me, there is no such thing in me. + +FALSTAFF What made me love thee? let that persuade thee + there's something extraordinary in thee. Come, I + cannot cog and say thou art this and that, like a + many of these lisping hawthorn-buds, that come like + women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury + in simple time; I cannot: but I love thee; none + but thee; and thou deservest it. + +MISTRESS FORD Do not betray me, sir. I fear you love Mistress Page. + +FALSTAFF Thou mightst as well say I love to walk by the + Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek + of a lime-kiln. + +MISTRESS FORD Well, heaven knows how I love you; and you shall one + day find it. + +FALSTAFF Keep in that mind; I'll deserve it. + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, I must tell you, so you do; or else I could not + be in that mind. + +ROBIN [Within] Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford! here's + Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and + looking wildly, and would needs speak with you presently. + +FALSTAFF She shall not see me: I will ensconce me behind the arras. + +MISTRESS FORD Pray you, do so: she's a very tattling woman. + + [FALSTAFF hides himself] + + [Re-enter MISTRESS PAGE and ROBIN] + + What's the matter? how now! + +MISTRESS PAGE O Mistress Ford, what have you done? You're shamed, + you're overthrown, you're undone for ever! + +MISTRESS FORD What's the matter, good Mistress Page? + +MISTRESS PAGE O well-a-day, Mistress Ford! having an honest man + to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion! + +MISTRESS FORD What cause of suspicion? + +MISTRESS PAGE What cause of suspicion! Out pon you! how am I + mistook in you! + +MISTRESS FORD Why, alas, what's the matter? + +MISTRESS PAGE Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the + officers in Windsor, to search for a gentleman that + he says is here now in the house by your consent, to + take an ill advantage of his assence: you are undone. + +MISTRESS FORD 'Tis not so, I hope. + +MISTRESS PAGE Pray heaven it be not so, that you have such a man + here! but 'tis most certain your husband's coming, + with half Windsor at his heels, to search for such a + one. I come before to tell you. If you know + yourself clear, why, I am glad of it; but if you + have a friend here convey, convey him out. Be not + amazed; call all your senses to you; defend your + reputation, or bid farewell to your good life for ever. + +MISTRESS FORD What shall I do? There is a gentleman my dear + friend; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his + peril: I had rather than a thousand pound he were + out of the house. + +MISTRESS PAGE For shame! never stand 'you had rather' and 'you + had rather:' your husband's here at hand, bethink + you of some conveyance: in the house you cannot + hide him. O, how have you deceived me! Look, here + is a basket: if he be of any reasonable stature, he + may creep in here; and throw foul linen upon him, as + if it were going to bucking: or--it is whiting-time + --send him by your two men to Datchet-mead. + +MISTRESS FORD He's too big to go in there. What shall I do? + +FALSTAFF [Coming forward] Let me see't, let me see't, O, let + me see't! I'll in, I'll in. Follow your friend's + counsel. I'll in. + +MISTRESS PAGE What, Sir John Falstaff! Are these your letters, knight? + +FALSTAFF I love thee. Help me away. Let me creep in here. + I'll never-- + + [Gets into the basket; they cover him with foul linen] + +MISTRESS PAGE Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men, + Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight! + +MISTRESS FORD What, John! Robert! John! + + [Exit ROBIN] + + [Re-enter Servants] + + Go take up these clothes here quickly. Where's the + cowl-staff? look, how you drumble! Carry them to + the laundress in Datchet-meat; quickly, come. + + [Enter FORD, PAGE, DOCTOR CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +FORD Pray you, come near: if I suspect without cause, + why then make sport at me; then let me be your jest; + I deserve it. How now! whither bear you this? + +Servant To the laundress, forsooth. + +MISTRESS FORD Why, what have you to do whither they bear it? You + were best meddle with buck-washing. + +FORD Buck! I would I could wash myself of the buck! + Buck, buck, buck! Ay, buck; I warrant you, buck; + and of the season too, it shall appear. + + [Exeunt Servants with the basket] + + Gentlemen, I have dreamed to-night; I'll tell you my + dream. Here, here, here be my keys: ascend my + chambers; search, seek, find out: I'll warrant + we'll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. + + [Locking the door] + + So, now uncape. + +PAGE Good Master Ford, be contented: you wrong yourself too much. + +FORD True, Master Page. Up, gentlemen: you shall see + sport anon: follow me, gentlemen. + + [Exit] + +SIR HUGH EVANS This is fery fantastical humours and jealousies. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, 'tis no the fashion of France; it is not + jealous in France. + +PAGE Nay, follow him, gentlemen; see the issue of his search. + + [Exeunt PAGE, DOCTOR CAIUS, and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +MISTRESS PAGE Is there not a double excellency in this? + +MISTRESS FORD I know not which pleases me better, that my husband + is deceived, or Sir John. + +MISTRESS PAGE What a taking was he in when your husband asked who + was in the basket! + +MISTRESS FORD I am half afraid he will have need of washing; so + throwing him into the water will do him a benefit. + +MISTRESS PAGE Hang him, dishonest rascal! I would all of the same + strain were in the same distress. + +MISTRESS FORD I think my husband hath some special suspicion of + Falstaff's being here; for I never saw him so gross + in his jealousy till now. + +MISTRESS PAGE I will lay a plot to try that; and we will yet have + more tricks with Falstaff: his dissolute disease will + scarce obey this medicine. + +MISTRESS FORD Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mistress + Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the + water; and give him another hope, to betray him to + another punishment? + +MISTRESS PAGE We will do it: let him be sent for to-morrow, + eight o'clock, to have amends. + + [Re-enter FORD, PAGE, DOCTOR CAIUS, and + SIR HUGH EVANS] + +FORD I cannot find him: may be the knave bragged of that + he could not compass. + +MISTRESS PAGE [Aside to MISTRESS FORD] Heard you that? + +MISTRESS FORD You use me well, Master Ford, do you? + +FORD Ay, I do so. + +MISTRESS FORD Heaven make you better than your thoughts! + +FORD Amen! + +MISTRESS PAGE You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford. + +FORD Ay, ay; I must bear it. + +SIR HUGH EVANS If there be any pody in the house, and in the + chambers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, + heaven forgive my sins at the day of judgment! + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, nor I too: there is no bodies. + +PAGE Fie, fie, Master Ford! are you not ashamed? What + spirit, what devil suggests this imagination? I + would not ha' your distemper in this kind for the + wealth of Windsor Castle. + +FORD 'Tis my fault, Master Page: I suffer for it. + +SIR HUGH EVANS You suffer for a pad conscience: your wife is as + honest a 'omans as I will desires among five + thousand, and five hundred too. + +DOCTOR CAIUS By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. + +FORD Well, I promised you a dinner. Come, come, walk in + the Park: I pray you, pardon me; I will hereafter + make known to you why I have done this. Come, + wife; come, Mistress Page. I pray you, pardon me; + pray heartily, pardon me. + +PAGE Let's go in, gentlemen; but, trust me, we'll mock + him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house + to breakfast: after, we'll a-birding together; I + have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so? + +FORD Any thing. + +SIR HUGH EVANS If there is one, I shall make two in the company. + +DOCTOR CAIUS If dere be one or two, I shall make-a the turd. + +FORD Pray you, go, Master Page. + +SIR HUGH EVANS I pray you now, remembrance tomorrow on the lousy + knave, mine host. + +DOCTOR CAIUS Dat is good; by gar, with all my heart! + +SIR HUGH EVANS A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV A room in PAGE'S house. + + + [Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE] + +FENTON I see I cannot get thy father's love; + Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. + +ANNE PAGE Alas, how then? + +FENTON Why, thou must be thyself. + He doth object I am too great of birth--, + And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, + I seek to heal it only by his wealth: + Besides these, other bars he lays before me, + My riots past, my wild societies; + And tells me 'tis a thing impossible + I should love thee but as a property. + +ANNE PAGE May be he tells you true. + +FENTON No, heaven so speed me in my time to come! + Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth + Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne: + Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value + Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags; + And 'tis the very riches of thyself + That now I aim at. + +ANNE PAGE Gentle Master Fenton, + Yet seek my father's love; still seek it, sir: + If opportunity and humblest suit + Cannot attain it, why, then,--hark you hither! + + [They converse apart] + + [Enter SHALLOW, SLENDER, and MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +SHALLOW Break their talk, Mistress Quickly: my kinsman shall + speak for himself. + +SLENDER I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't: 'slid, 'tis but + venturing. + +SHALLOW Be not dismayed. + +SLENDER No, she shall not dismay me: I care not for that, + but that I am afeard. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Hark ye; Master Slender would speak a word with you. + +ANNE PAGE I come to him. + + [Aside] + + This is my father's choice. + O, what a world of vile ill-favor'd faults + Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a-year! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY And how does good Master Fenton? Pray you, a word with you. + +SHALLOW She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, thou hadst a father! + +SLENDER I had a father, Mistress Anne; my uncle can tell you + good jests of him. Pray you, uncle, tell Mistress + Anne the jest, how my father stole two geese out of + a pen, good uncle. + +SHALLOW Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. + +SLENDER Ay, that I do; as well as I love any woman in + Gloucestershire. + +SHALLOW He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. + +SLENDER Ay, that I will, come cut and long-tail, under the + degree of a squire. + +SHALLOW He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure. + +ANNE PAGE Good Master Shallow, let him woo for himself. + +SHALLOW Marry, I thank you for it; I thank you for that good + comfort. She calls you, coz: I'll leave you. + +ANNE PAGE Now, Master Slender,-- + +SLENDER Now, good Mistress Anne,-- + +ANNE PAGE What is your will? + +SLENDER My will! 'od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest + indeed! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank heaven; I + am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise. + +ANNE PAGE I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me? + +SLENDER Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing + with you. Your father and my uncle hath made + motions: if it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be + his dole! They can tell you how things go better + than I can: you may ask your father; here he comes. + + [Enter PAGE and MISTRESS PAGE] + +PAGE Now, Master Slender: love him, daughter Anne. + Why, how now! what does Master Fenton here? + You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house: + I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of. + +FENTON Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. + +MISTRESS PAGE Good Master Fenton, come not to my child. + +PAGE She is no match for you. + +FENTON Sir, will you hear me? + +PAGE No, good Master Fenton. + Come, Master Shallow; come, son Slender, in. + Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton. + + [Exeunt PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Speak to Mistress Page. + +FENTON Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter + In such a righteous fashion as I do, + Perforce, against all cheques, rebukes and manners, + I must advance the colours of my love + And not retire: let me have your good will. + +ANNE PAGE Good mother, do not marry me to yond fool. + +MISTRESS PAGE I mean it not; I seek you a better husband. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY That's my master, master doctor. + +ANNE PAGE Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth + And bowl'd to death with turnips! + +MISTRESS PAGE Come, trouble not yourself. Good Master Fenton, + I will not be your friend nor enemy: + My daughter will I question how she loves you, + And as I find her, so am I affected. + Till then farewell, sir: she must needs go in; + Her father will be angry. + +FENTON Farewell, gentle mistress: farewell, Nan. + + [Exeunt MISTRESS PAGE and ANNE PAGE] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY This is my doing, now: 'Nay,' said I, 'will you cast + away your child on a fool, and a physician? Look on + Master Fenton:' this is my doing. + +FENTON I thank thee; and I pray thee, once to-night + Give my sweet Nan this ring: there's for thy pains. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Now heaven send thee good fortune! + + [Exit FENTON] + + A kind heart he hath: a woman would run through + fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet I + would my master had Mistress Anne; or I would + Master Slender had her; or, in sooth, I would Master + Fenton had her; I will do what I can for them all + three; for so I have promised, and I'll be as good + as my word; but speciously for Master Fenton. Well, + I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from + my two mistresses: what a beast am I to slack it! + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF Bardolph, I say,-- + +BARDOLPH Here, sir. + +FALSTAFF Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't. + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + + Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a + barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown in the + Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, + I'll have my brains ta'en out and buttered, and give + them to a dog for a new-year's gift. The rogues + slighted me into the river with as little remorse as + they would have drowned a blind bitch's puppies, + fifteen i' the litter: and you may know by my size + that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the + bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had + been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and + shallow,--a death that I abhor; for the water swells + a man; and what a thing should I have been when I + had been swelled! I should have been a mountain of mummy. + + [Re-enter BARDOLPH with sack] + +BARDOLPH Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you. + +FALSTAFF Let me pour in some sack to the Thames water; for my + belly's as cold as if I had swallowed snowballs for + pills to cool the reins. Call her in. + +BARDOLPH Come in, woman! + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY By your leave; I cry you mercy: give your worship + good morrow. + +FALSTAFF Take away these chalices. Go brew me a pottle of + sack finely. + +BARDOLPH With eggs, sir? + +FALSTAFF Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my brewage. + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + How now! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mistress Ford. + +FALSTAFF Mistress Ford! I have had ford enough; I was thrown + into the ford; I have my belly full of ford. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Alas the day! good heart, that was not her fault: + she does so take on with her men; they mistook their erection. + +FALSTAFF So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman's promise. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn + your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning + a-birding; she desires you once more to come to her + between eight and nine: I must carry her word + quickly: she'll make you amends, I warrant you. + +FALSTAFF Well, I will visit her: tell her so; and bid her + think what a man is: let her consider his frailty, + and then judge of my merit. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I will tell her. + +FALSTAFF Do so. Between nine and ten, sayest thou? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Eight and nine, sir. + +FALSTAFF Well, be gone: I will not miss her. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Peace be with you, sir. + + [Exit] + +FALSTAFF I marvel I hear not of Master Brook; he sent me word + to stay within: I like his money well. O, here he comes. + + [Enter FORD] + +FORD Bless you, sir! + +FALSTAFF Now, master Brook, you come to know what hath passed + between me and Ford's wife? + +FORD That, indeed, Sir John, is my business. + +FALSTAFF Master Brook, I will not lie to you: I was at her + house the hour she appointed me. + +FORD And sped you, sir? + +FALSTAFF Very ill-favoredly, Master Brook. + +FORD How so, sir? Did she change her determination? + +FALSTAFF No, Master Brook; but the peaking Cornuto her + husband, Master Brook, dwelling in a continual + 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our + encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, + and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy; + and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither + provoked and instigated by his distemper, and, + forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love. + +FORD What, while you were there? + +FALSTAFF While I was there. + +FORD And did he search for you, and could not find you? + +FALSTAFF You shall hear. As good luck would have it, comes + in one Mistress Page; gives intelligence of Ford's + approach; and, in her invention and Ford's wife's + distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket. + +FORD A buck-basket! + +FALSTAFF By the Lord, a buck-basket! rammed me in with foul + shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, greasy + napkins; that, Master Brook, there was the rankest + compound of villanous smell that ever offended nostril. + +FORD And how long lay you there? + +FALSTAFF Nay, you shall hear, Master Brook, what I have + suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. + Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's + knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their + mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to + Datchet-lane: they took me on their shoulders; met + the jealous knave their master in the door, who + asked them once or twice what they had in their + basket: I quaked for fear, lest the lunatic knave + would have searched it; but fate, ordaining he + should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well: on went he + for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But + mark the sequel, Master Brook: I suffered the pangs + of three several deaths; first, an intolerable + fright, to be detected with a jealous rotten + bell-wether; next, to be compassed, like a good + bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt to + point, heel to head; and then, to be stopped in, + like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes + that fretted in their own grease: think of that,--a + man of my kidney,--think of that,--that am as subject + to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution + and thaw: it was a miracle to scape suffocation. + And in the height of this bath, when I was more than + half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be + thrown into the Thames, and cooled, glowing hot, + in that surge, like a horse-shoe; think of + that,--hissing hot,--think of that, Master Brook. + +FORD In good sadness, I am sorry that for my sake you + have sufferd all this. My suit then is desperate; + you'll undertake her no more? + +FALSTAFF Master Brook, I will be thrown into Etna, as I have + been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her + husband is this morning gone a-birding: I have + received from her another embassy of meeting; 'twixt + eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook. + +FORD 'Tis past eight already, sir. + +FALSTAFF Is it? I will then address me to my appointment. + Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall + know how I speed; and the conclusion shall be + crowned with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall + have her, Master Brook; Master Brook, you shall + cuckold Ford. + + [Exit] + +FORD Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a dream? do I + sleep? Master Ford awake! awake, Master Ford! + there's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford. + This 'tis to be married! this 'tis to have linen + and buck-baskets! Well, I will proclaim myself + what I am: I will now take the lecher; he is at my + house; he cannot 'scape me; 'tis impossible he + should; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, + nor into a pepper-box: but, lest the devil that + guides him should aid him, I will search + impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, + yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame: + if I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go + with me: I'll be horn-mad. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A street. + + + [Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS QUICKLY, and + WILLIAM PAGE] + +MISTRESS PAGE Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Sure he is by this, or will be presently: but, + truly, he is very courageous mad about his throwing + into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come suddenly. + +MISTRESS PAGE I'll be with her by and by; I'll but bring my young + man here to school. Look, where his master comes; + 'tis a playing-day, I see. + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS] + + How now, Sir Hugh! no school to-day? + +SIR HUGH EVANS No; Master Slender is let the boys leave to play. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Blessing of his heart! + +MISTRESS PAGE Sir Hugh, my husband says my son profits nothing in + the world at his book. I pray you, ask him some + questions in his accidence. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Come hither, William; hold up your head; come. + +MISTRESS PAGE Come on, sirrah; hold up your head; answer your + master, be not afraid. + +SIR HUGH EVANS William, how many numbers is in nouns? + +WILLIAM PAGE Two. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Truly, I thought there had been one number more, + because they say, ''Od's nouns.' + +SIR HUGH EVANS Peace your tattlings! What is 'fair,' William? + +WILLIAM PAGE Pulcher. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Polecats! there are fairer things than polecats, sure. + +SIR HUGH EVANS You are a very simplicity 'oman: I pray you peace. + What is 'lapis,' William? + +WILLIAM PAGE A stone. + +SIR HUGH EVANS And what is 'a stone,' William? + +WILLIAM PAGE A pebble. + +SIR HUGH EVANS No, it is 'lapis:' I pray you, remember in your prain. + +WILLIAM PAGE Lapis. + +SIR HUGH EVANS That is a good William. What is he, William, that + does lend articles? + +WILLIAM PAGE Articles are borrowed of the pronoun, and be thus + declined, Singulariter, nominativo, hic, haec, hoc. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you, mark: + genitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusative case? + +WILLIAM PAGE Accusativo, hinc. + +SIR HUGH EVANS I pray you, have your remembrance, child, + accusative, hung, hang, hog. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY 'Hang-hog' is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative + case, William? + +WILLIAM PAGE O,--vocativo, O. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Remember, William; focative is caret. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY And that's a good root. + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Oman, forbear. + +MISTRESS PAGE Peace! + +SIR HUGH EVANS What is your genitive case plural, William? + +WILLIAM PAGE Genitive case! + +SIR HUGH EVANS Ay. + +WILLIAM PAGE Genitive,--horum, harum, horum. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Vengeance of Jenny's case! fie on her! never name + her, child, if she be a whore. + +SIR HUGH EVANS For shame, 'oman. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY You do ill to teach the child such words: he + teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do + fast enough of themselves, and to call 'horum:' fie upon you! + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Oman, art thou lunatics? hast thou no + understandings for thy cases and the numbers of the + genders? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as + I would desires. + +MISTRESS PAGE Prithee, hold thy peace. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns. + +WILLIAM PAGE Forsooth, I have forgot. + +SIR HUGH EVANS It is qui, quae, quod: if you forget your 'quies,' + your 'quaes,' and your 'quods,' you must be + preeches. Go your ways, and play; go. + +MISTRESS PAGE He is a better scholar than I thought he was. + +SIR HUGH EVANS He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mistress Page. + +MISTRESS PAGE Adieu, good Sir Hugh. + + [Exit SIR HUGH EVANS] + + Get you home, boy. Come, we stay too long. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II A room in FORD'S house. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS FORD] + +FALSTAFF Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my + sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, + and I profess requital to a hair's breadth; not + only, Mistress Ford, in the simple + office of love, but in all the accoutrement, + complement and ceremony of it. But are you + sure of your husband now? + +MISTRESS FORD He's a-birding, sweet Sir John. + +MISTRESS PAGE [Within] What, ho, gossip Ford! what, ho! + +MISTRESS FORD Step into the chamber, Sir John. + + [Exit FALSTAFF] + + [Enter MISTRESS PAGE] + +MISTRESS PAGE How now, sweetheart! who's at home besides yourself? + +MISTRESS FORD Why, none but mine own people. + +MISTRESS PAGE Indeed! + +MISTRESS FORD No, certainly. + + [Aside to her] + + Speak louder. + +MISTRESS PAGE Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here. + +MISTRESS FORD Why? + +MISTRESS PAGE Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again: + he so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails + against all married mankind; so curses all Eve's + daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffets + himself on the forehead, crying, 'Peer out, peer + out!' that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but + tameness, civility and patience, to this his + distemper he is in now: I am glad the fat knight is not here. + +MISTRESS FORD Why, does he talk of him? + +MISTRESS PAGE Of none but him; and swears he was carried out, the + last time he searched for him, in a basket; protests + to my husband he is now here, and hath drawn him and + the rest of their company from their sport, to make + another experiment of his suspicion: but I am glad + the knight is not here; now he shall see his own foolery. + +MISTRESS FORD How near is he, Mistress Page? + +MISTRESS PAGE Hard by; at street end; he will be here anon. + +MISTRESS FORD I am undone! The knight is here. + +MISTRESS PAGE Why then you are utterly shamed, and he's but a dead + man. What a woman are you!--Away with him, away + with him! better shame than murder. + +FORD Which way should be go? how should I bestow him? + Shall I put him into the basket again? + + [Re-enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not go + out ere he come? + +MISTRESS PAGE Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door + with pistols, that none shall issue out; otherwise + you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here? + +FALSTAFF What shall I do? I'll creep up into the chimney. + +MISTRESS FORD There they always use to discharge their + birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole. + +FALSTAFF Where is it? + +MISTRESS FORD He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, + coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an + abstract for the remembrance of such places, and + goes to them by his note: there is no hiding you in the house. + +FALSTAFF I'll go out then. + +MISTRESS PAGE If you go out in your own semblance, you die, Sir + John. Unless you go out disguised-- + +MISTRESS FORD How might we disguise him? + +MISTRESS PAGE Alas the day, I know not! There is no woman's gown + big enough for him otherwise he might put on a hat, + a muffler and a kerchief, and so escape. + +FALSTAFF Good hearts, devise something: any extremity rather + than a mischief. + +MISTRESS FORD My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brentford, has a + gown above. + +MISTRESS PAGE On my word, it will serve him; she's as big as he + is: and there's her thrummed hat and her muffler + too. Run up, Sir John. + +MISTRESS FORD Go, go, sweet Sir John: Mistress Page and I will + look some linen for your head. + +MISTRESS PAGE Quick, quick! we'll come dress you straight: put + on the gown the while. + + [Exit FALSTAFF] + +MISTRESS FORD I would my husband would meet him in this shape: he + cannot abide the old woman of Brentford; he swears + she's a witch; forbade her my house and hath + threatened to beat her. + +MISTRESS PAGE Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the + devil guide his cudgel afterwards! + +MISTRESS FORD But is my husband coming? + +MISTRESS PAGE Ah, in good sadness, is he; and talks of the basket + too, howsoever he hath had intelligence. + +MISTRESS FORD We'll try that; for I'll appoint my men to carry the + basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as + they did last time. + +MISTRESS PAGE Nay, but he'll be here presently: let's go dress him + like the witch of Brentford. + +MISTRESS FORD I'll first direct my men what they shall do with the + basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him straight. + + [Exit] + +MISTRESS PAGE Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot misuse him enough. + We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, + Wives may be merry, and yet honest too: + We do not act that often jest and laugh; + 'Tis old, but true, Still swine eat all the draff. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter MISTRESS FORD with two Servants] + +MISTRESS FORD Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders: + your master is hard at door; if he bid you set it + down, obey him: quickly, dispatch. + + [Exit] + +First Servant Come, come, take it up. + +Second Servant Pray heaven it be not full of knight again. + +First Servant I hope not; I had as lief bear so much lead. + + [Enter FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, DOCTOR CAIUS, and + SIR HUGH EVANS] + +FORD Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any + way then to unfool me again? Set down the basket, + villain! Somebody call my wife. Youth in a basket! + O you panderly rascals! there's a knot, a ging, a + pack, a conspiracy against me: now shall the devil + be shamed. What, wife, I say! Come, come forth! + Behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching! + +PAGE Why, this passes, Master Ford; you are not to go + loose any longer; you must be pinioned. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Why, this is lunatics! this is mad as a mad dog! + +SHALLOW Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well, indeed. + +FORD So say I too, sir. + + [Re-enter MISTRESS FORD] + + Come hither, Mistress Ford; Mistress Ford the honest + woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that + hath the jealous fool to her husband! I suspect + without cause, mistress, do I? + +MISTRESS FORD Heaven be my witness you do, if you suspect me in + any dishonesty. + +FORD Well said, brazen-face! hold it out. Come forth, sirrah! + + [Pulling clothes out of the basket] + +PAGE This passes! + +MISTRESS FORD Are you not ashamed? let the clothes alone. + +FORD I shall find you anon. + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up your wife's + clothes? Come away. + +FORD Empty the basket, I say! + +MISTRESS FORD Why, man, why? + +FORD Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed + out of my house yesterday in this basket: why may + not he be there again? In my house I am sure he is: + my intelligence is true; my jealousy is reasonable. + Pluck me out all the linen. + +MISTRESS FORD If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death. + +PAGE Here's no man. + +SHALLOW By my fidelity, this is not well, Master Ford; this + wrongs you. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the + imaginations of your own heart: this is jealousies. + +FORD Well, he's not here I seek for. + +PAGE No, nor nowhere else but in your brain. + +FORD Help to search my house this one time. If I find + not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity; let + me for ever be your table-sport; let them say of + me, 'As jealous as Ford, Chat searched a hollow + walnut for his wife's leman.' Satisfy me once more; + once more search with me. + +MISTRESS FORD What, ho, Mistress Page! come you and the old woman + down; my husband will come into the chamber. + +FORD Old woman! what old woman's that? + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford. + +FORD A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean! Have I not + forbid her my house? She comes of errands, does + she? We are simple men; we do not know what's + brought to pass under the profession of + fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, + by the figure, and such daubery as this is, beyond + our element we know nothing. Come down, you witch, + you hag, you; come down, I say! + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, good, sweet husband! Good gentlemen, let him + not strike the old woman. + + [Re-enter FALSTAFF in woman's clothes, and + MISTRESS PAGE] + +MISTRESS PAGE Come, Mother Prat; come, give me your hand. + +FORD I'll prat her. + + [Beating him] + + Out of my door, you witch, you hag, you baggage, you + polecat, you runyon! out, out! I'll conjure you, + I'll fortune-tell you. + + [Exit FALSTAFF] + +MISTRESS PAGE Are you not ashamed? I think you have killed the + poor woman. + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you. + +FORD Hang her, witch! + +SIR HUGH EVANS By the yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch + indeed: I like not when a 'oman has a great peard; + I spy a great peard under his muffler. + +FORD Will you follow, gentlemen? I beseech you, follow; + see but the issue of my jealousy: if I cry out thus + upon no trail, never trust me when I open again. + +PAGE Let's obey his humour a little further: come, + gentlemen. + + [Exeunt FORD, PAGE, SHALLOW, DOCTOR CAIUS, and + SIR HUGH EVANS] + +MISTRESS PAGE Trust me, he beat him most pitifully. + +MISTRESS FORD Nay, by the mass, that he did not; he beat him most + unpitifully, methought. + +MISTRESS PAGE I'll have the cudgel hallowed and hung o'er the + altar; it hath done meritorious service. + +MISTRESS FORD What think you? may we, with the warrant of + womanhood and the witness of a good conscience, + pursue him with any further revenge? + +MISTRESS PAGE The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of + him: if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with + fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the + way of waste, attempt us again. + +MISTRESS FORD Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him? + +MISTRESS PAGE Yes, by all means; if it be but to scrape the + figures out of your husband's brains. If they can + find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight + shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be + the ministers. + +MISTRESS FORD I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed: and + methinks there would be no period to the jest, + should he not be publicly shamed. + +MISTRESS PAGE Come, to the forge with it then; shape it: I would + not have things cool. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter Host and BARDOLPH] + +BARDOLPH Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your + horses: the duke himself will be to-morrow at + court, and they are going to meet him. + +Host What duke should that be comes so secretly? I hear + not of him in the court. Let me speak with the + gentlemen: they speak English? + +BARDOLPH Ay, sir; I'll call them to you. + +Host They shall have my horses; but I'll make them pay; + I'll sauce them: they have had my house a week at + command; I have turned away my other guests: they + must come off; I'll sauce them. Come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV A room in FORD'S house. + + + [Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, + and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +SIR HUGH EVANS 'Tis one of the best discretions of a 'oman as ever + I did look upon. + +PAGE And did he send you both these letters at an instant? + +MISTRESS PAGE Within a quarter of an hour. + +FORD Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt; + I rather will suspect the sun with cold + Than thee with wantonness: now doth thy honour stand + In him that was of late an heretic, + As firm as faith. + +PAGE 'Tis well, 'tis well; no more: + Be not as extreme in submission + As in offence. + But let our plot go forward: let our wives + Yet once again, to make us public sport, + Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, + Where we may take him and disgrace him for it. + +FORD There is no better way than that they spoke of. + +PAGE How? to send him word they'll meet him in the park + at midnight? Fie, fie! he'll never come. + +SIR HUGH EVANS You say he has been thrown in the rivers and has + been grievously peaten as an old 'oman: methinks + there should be terrors in him that he should not + come; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have + no desires. + +PAGE So think I too. + +MISTRESS FORD Devise but how you'll use him when he comes, + And let us two devise to bring him thither. + +MISTRESS PAGE There is an old tale goes that Herne the hunter, + Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, + Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, + Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns; + And there he blasts the tree and takes the cattle + And makes milch-kine yield blood and shakes a chain + In a most hideous and dreadful manner: + You have heard of such a spirit, and well you know + The superstitious idle-headed eld + Received and did deliver to our age + This tale of Herne the hunter for a truth. + +PAGE Why, yet there want not many that do fear + In deep of night to walk by this Herne's oak: + But what of this? + +MISTRESS FORD Marry, this is our device; + That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us. + +PAGE Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come: + And in this shape when you have brought him thither, + What shall be done with him? what is your plot? + +MISTRESS PAGE That likewise have we thought upon, and thus: + Nan Page my daughter and my little son + And three or four more of their growth we'll dress + Like urchins, ouphes and fairies, green and white, + With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, + And rattles in their hands: upon a sudden, + As Falstaff, she and I, are newly met, + Let them from forth a sawpit rush at once + With some diffused song: upon their sight, + We two in great amazedness will fly: + Then let them all encircle him about + And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight, + And ask him why, that hour of fairy revel, + In their so sacred paths he dares to tread + In shape profane. + +MISTRESS FORD And till he tell the truth, + Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound + And burn him with their tapers. + +MISTRESS PAGE The truth being known, + We'll all present ourselves, dis-horn the spirit, + And mock him home to Windsor. + +FORD The children must + Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. + +SIR HUGH EVANS I will teach the children their behaviors; and I + will be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the + knight with my taber. + +FORD That will be excellent. I'll go and buy them vizards. + +MISTRESS PAGE My Nan shall be the queen of all the fairies, + Finely attired in a robe of white. + +PAGE That silk will I go buy. + + [Aside] + + And in that time + Shall Master Slender steal my Nan away + And marry her at Eton. Go send to Falstaff straight. + +FORD Nay I'll to him again in name of Brook + He'll tell me all his purpose: sure, he'll come. + +MISTRESS PAGE Fear not you that. Go get us properties + And tricking for our fairies. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Let us about it: it is admirable pleasures and fery + honest knaveries. + + [Exeunt PAGE, FORD, and SIR HUGH EVANS] + +MISTRESS PAGE Go, Mistress Ford, + Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind. + + [Exit MISTRESS FORD] + + I'll to the doctor: he hath my good will, + And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. + That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot; + And he my husband best of all affects. + The doctor is well money'd, and his friends + Potent at court: he, none but he, shall have her, + Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter Host and SIMPLE] + +Host What wouldst thou have, boor? what: thick-skin? + speak, breathe, discuss; brief, short, quick, snap. + +SIMPLE Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Falstaff + from Master Slender. + +Host There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his + standing-bed and truckle-bed; 'tis painted about + with the story of the Prodigal, fresh and new. Go + knock and call; hell speak like an Anthropophaginian + unto thee: knock, I say. + +SIMPLE There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into his + chamber: I'll be so bold as stay, sir, till she come + down; I come to speak with her, indeed. + +Host Ha! a fat woman! the knight may be robbed: I'll + call. Bully knight! bully Sir John! speak from + thy lungs military: art thou there? it is thine + host, thine Ephesian, calls. + +FALSTAFF [Above] How now, mine host! + +Host Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the coming down of + thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her + descend; my chambers are honourable: fie! privacy? + fie! + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF There was, mine host, an old fat woman even now with + me; but she's gone. + +SIMPLE Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of + Brentford? + +FALSTAFF Ay, marry, was it, mussel-shell: what would you with her? + +SIMPLE My master, sir, Master Slender, sent to her, seeing + her go through the streets, to know, sir, whether + one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, had the + chain or no. + +FALSTAFF I spake with the old woman about it. + +SIMPLE And what says she, I pray, sir? + +FALSTAFF Marry, she says that the very same man that + beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him of + it. + +SIMPLE I would I could have spoken with the woman herself; + I had other things to have spoken with her too from + him. + +FALSTAFF What are they? let us know. + +Host Ay, come; quick. + +SIMPLE I may not conceal them, sir. + +Host Conceal them, or thou diest. + +SIMPLE Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress Anne + Page; to know if it were my master's fortune to + have her or no. + +FALSTAFF 'Tis, 'tis his fortune. + +SIMPLE What, sir? + +FALSTAFF To have her, or no. Go; say the woman told me so. + +SIMPLE May I be bold to say so, sir? + +FALSTAFF Ay, sir; like who more bold. + +SIMPLE I thank your worship: I shall make my master glad + with these tidings. + + [Exit] + +Host Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, Sir John. Was + there a wise woman with thee? + +FALSTAFF Ay, that there was, mine host; one that hath taught + me more wit than ever I learned before in my life; + and I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for + my learning. + + [Enter BARDOLPH] + +BARDOLPH Out, alas, sir! cozenage, mere cozenage! + +Host Where be my horses? speak well of them, varletto. + +BARDOLPH Run away with the cozeners; for so soon as I came + beyond Eton, they threw me off from behind one of + them, in a slough of mire; and set spurs and away, + like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses. + +Host They are gone but to meet the duke, villain: do not + say they be fled; Germans are honest men. + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS] + +SIR HUGH EVANS Where is mine host? + +Host What is the matter, sir? + +SIR HUGH EVANS Have a care of your entertainments: there is a + friend of mine come to town tells me there is three + cozen-germans that has cozened all the hosts of + Readins, of Maidenhead, of Colebrook, of horses and + money. I tell you for good will, look you: you + are wise and full of gibes and vlouting-stocks, and + 'tis not convenient you should be cozened. Fare you well. + + [Exit] + + [Enter DOCTOR CAIUS] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vere is mine host de Jarteer? + +Host Here, master doctor, in perplexity and doubtful dilemma. + +DOCTOR CAIUS I cannot tell vat is dat: but it is tell-a me dat + you make grand preparation for a duke de Jamany: by + my trot, dere is no duke dat the court is know to + come. I tell you for good vill: adieu. + + [Exit] + +Host Hue and cry, villain, go! Assist me, knight. I am + undone! Fly, run, hue and cry, villain! I am undone! + + [Exeunt Host and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF I would all the world might be cozened; for I have + been cozened and beaten too. If it should come to + the ear of the court, how I have been transformed + and how my transformation hath been washed and + cudgelled, they would melt me out of my fat drop by + drop and liquor fishermen's boots with me; I warrant + they would whip me with their fine wits till I were + as crest-fallen as a dried pear. I never prospered + since I forswore myself at primero. Well, if my + wind were but long enough to say my prayers, I would repent. + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY] + + Now, whence come you? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY From the two parties, forsooth. + +FALSTAFF The devil take one party and his dam the other! and + so they shall be both bestowed. I have suffered more + for their sakes, more than the villanous inconstancy + of man's disposition is able to bear. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY And have not they suffered? Yes, I warrant; + speciously one of them; Mistress Ford, good heart, + is beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a + white spot about her. + +FALSTAFF What tellest thou me of black and blue? I was + beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow; + and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of + Brentford: but that my admirable dexterity of wit, + my counterfeiting the action of an old woman, + delivered me, the knave constable had set me i' the + stocks, i' the common stocks, for a witch. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber: you + shall hear how things go; and, I warrant, to your + content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good + hearts, what ado here is to bring you together! + Sure, one of you does not serve heaven well, that + you are so crossed. + +FALSTAFF Come up into my chamber. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Another room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter FENTON and Host] + +Host Master Fenton, talk not to me; my mind is heavy: I + will give over all. + +FENTON Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my purpose, + And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee + A hundred pound in gold more than your loss. + +Host I will hear you, Master Fenton; and I will at the + least keep your counsel. + +FENTON From time to time I have acquainted you + With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page; + Who mutually hath answer'd my affection, + So far forth as herself might be her chooser, + Even to my wish: I have a letter from her + Of such contents as you will wonder at; + The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, + That neither singly can be manifested, + Without the show of both; fat Falstaff + Hath a great scene: the image of the jest + I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine host. + To-night at Herne's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, + Must my sweet Nan present the Fairy Queen; + The purpose why, is here: in which disguise, + While other jests are something rank on foot, + Her father hath commanded her to slip + Away with Slender and with him at Eton + Immediately to marry: she hath consented: Now, sir, + Her mother, ever strong against that match + And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed + That he shall likewise shuffle her away, + While other sports are tasking of their minds, + And at the deanery, where a priest attends, + Straight marry her: to this her mother's plot + She seemingly obedient likewise hath + Made promise to the doctor. Now, thus it rests: + Her father means she shall be all in white, + And in that habit, when Slender sees his time + To take her by the hand and bid her go, + She shall go with him: her mother hath intended, + The better to denote her to the doctor, + For they must all be mask'd and vizarded, + That quaint in green she shall be loose enrobed, + With ribands pendent, flaring 'bout her head; + And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, + To pinch her by the hand, and, on that token, + The maid hath given consent to go with him. + +Host Which means she to deceive, father or mother? + +FENTON Both, my good host, to go along with me: + And here it rests, that you'll procure the vicar + To stay for me at church 'twixt twelve and one, + And, in the lawful name of marrying, + To give our hearts united ceremony. + +Host Well, husband your device; I'll to the vicar: + Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. + +FENTON So shall I evermore be bound to thee; + Besides, I'll make a present recompense. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I A room in the Garter Inn. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and MISTRESS QUICKLY] + +FALSTAFF Prithee, no more prattling; go. I'll hold. This is + the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd + numbers. Away I go. They say there is divinity in + odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death. Away! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I'll provide you a chain; and I'll do what I can to + get you a pair of horns. + +FALSTAFF Away, I say; time wears: hold up your head, and mince. + + [Exit MISTRESS QUICKLY] + + [Enter FORD] + + How now, Master Brook! Master Brook, the matter + will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the + Park about midnight, at Herne's oak, and you shall + see wonders. + +FORD Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me + you had appointed? + +FALSTAFF I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a poor + old man: but I came from her, Master Brook, like a + poor old woman. That same knave Ford, her husband, + hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, + Master Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell + you: he beat me grievously, in the shape of a + woman; for in the shape of man, Master Brook, I fear + not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because I know + also life is a shuttle. I am in haste; go along + with me: I'll tell you all, Master Brook. Since I + plucked geese, played truant and whipped top, I knew + not what 'twas to be beaten till lately. Follow + me: I'll tell you strange things of this knave + Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, and I + will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. + Strange things in hand, Master Brook! Follow. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Windsor Park. + + + [Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER] + +PAGE Come, come; we'll couch i' the castle-ditch till we + see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, + my daughter. + +SLENDER Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her and we have a + nay-word how to know one another: I come to her in + white, and cry 'mum;' she cries 'budget;' and by + that we know one another. + +SHALLOW That's good too: but what needs either your 'mum' + or her 'budget?' the white will decipher her well + enough. It hath struck ten o'clock. + +PAGE The night is dark; light and spirits will become it + well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil + but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. + Let's away; follow me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III A street leading to the Park. + + + [Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and + DOCTOR CAIUS] + +MISTRESS PAGE Master doctor, my daughter is in green: when you + see your time, take her by the band, away with her + to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before + into the Park: we two must go together. + +DOCTOR CAIUS I know vat I have to do. Adieu. + +MISTRESS PAGE Fare you well, sir. + + [Exit DOCTOR CAIUS] + + My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of + Falstaff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying + my daughter: but 'tis no matter; better a little + chiding than a great deal of heart-break. + +MISTRESS FORD Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies, and the + Welsh devil Hugh? + +MISTRESS PAGE They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne's oak, + with obscured lights; which, at the very instant of + Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once + display to the night. + +MISTRESS FORD That cannot choose but amaze him. + +MISTRESS PAGE If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be + amazed, he will every way be mocked. + +MISTRESS FORD We'll betray him finely. + +MISTRESS PAGE Against such lewdsters and their lechery + Those that betray them do no treachery. + +MISTRESS FORD The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Windsor Park. + + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, disguised, with others as Fairies] + +SIR HUGH EVANS Trib, trib, fairies; come; and remember your parts: + be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit; and + when I give the watch-'ords, do as I pid you: + come, come; trib, trib. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the Park. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF disguised as Herne] + +FALSTAFF The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute + draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me! + Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love + set on thy horns. O powerful love! that, in some + respects, makes a beast a man, in some other, a man + a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love + of Leda. O omnipotent Love! how near the god drew + to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in + the form of a beast. O Jove, a beastly fault! And + then another fault in the semblance of a fowl; think + on 't, Jove; a foul fault! When gods have hot + backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a + Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i' the + forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can + blame me to piss my tallow? Who comes here? my + doe? + + [Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE] + +MISTRESS FORD Sir John! art thou there, my deer? my male deer? + +FALSTAFF My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain + potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of Green + Sleeves, hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes; let + there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. + +MISTRESS FORD Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart. + +FALSTAFF Divide me like a bribe buck, each a haunch: I will + keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow + of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. + Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? + Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes + restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome! + + [Noise within] + +MISTRESS PAGE Alas, what noise? + +MISTRESS FORD Heaven forgive our sins + +FALSTAFF What should this be? + + +MISTRESS FORD | + | Away, away! +MISTRESS PAGE | + + + [They run off] + +FALSTAFF I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the + oil that's in me should set hell on fire; he would + never else cross me thus. + + [Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, disguised as before; PISTOL, + as Hobgoblin; MISTRESS QUICKLY, ANNE PAGE, and + others, as Fairies, with tapers] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, + You moonshine revellers and shades of night, + You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, + Attend your office and your quality. + Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes. + +PISTOL Elves, list your names; silence, you airy toys. + Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap: + Where fires thou find'st unraked and hearths unswept, + There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry: + Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery. + +FALSTAFF They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die: + I'll wink and couch: no man their works must eye. + + [Lies down upon his face] + +SIR HUGH EVANS Where's Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid + That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, + Raise up the organs of her fantasy; + Sleep she as sound as careless infancy: + But those as sleep and think not on their sins, + Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides and shins. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY About, about; + Search Windsor Castle, elves, within and out: + Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room: + That it may stand till the perpetual doom, + In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit, + Worthy the owner, and the owner it. + The several chairs of order look you scour + With juice of balm and every precious flower: + Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest, + With loyal blazon, evermore be blest! + And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing, + Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring: + The expressure that it bears, green let it be, + More fertile-fresh than all the field to see; + And 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' write + In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue and white; + Let sapphire, pearl and rich embroidery, + Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee: + Fairies use flowers for their charactery. + Away; disperse: but till 'tis one o'clock, + Our dance of custom round about the oak + Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set + And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, + To guide our measure round about the tree. + But, stay; I smell a man of middle-earth. + +FALSTAFF Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he + transform me to a piece of cheese! + +PISTOL Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY With trial-fire touch me his finger-end: + If he be chaste, the flame will back descend + And turn him to no pain; but if he start, + It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. + +PISTOL A trial, come. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Come, will this wood take fire? + + [They burn him with their tapers] + +FALSTAFF Oh, Oh, Oh! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! + About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; + And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. + + SONG. + Fie on sinful fantasy! + Fie on lust and luxury! + Lust is but a bloody fire, + Kindled with unchaste desire, + Fed in heart, whose flames aspire + As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher. + Pinch him, fairies, mutually; + Pinch him for his villany; + Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, + Till candles and starlight and moonshine be out. + + [During this song they pinch FALSTAFF. DOCTOR CAIUS + comes one way, and steals away a boy in green; + SLENDER another way, and takes off a boy in white; + and FENTON comes and steals away ANN PAGE. + A noise of hunting is heard within. All the + Fairies run away. FALSTAFF pulls off his buck's + head, and rises] + + [Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE, and MISTRESS FORD] + +PAGE Nay, do not fly; I think we have watch'd you now + Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn? + +MISTRESS PAGE I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher + Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives? + See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes + Become the forest better than the town? + +FORD Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? Master Brook, + Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his + horns, Master Brook: and, Master Brook, he hath + enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his + cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be + paid to Master Brook; his horses are arrested for + it, Master Brook. + +MISTRESS FORD Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. + I will never take you for my love again; but I will + always count you my deer. + +FALSTAFF I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass. + +FORD Ay, and an ox too: both the proofs are extant. + +FALSTAFF And these are not fairies? I was three or four + times in the thought they were not fairies: and yet + the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my + powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a + received belief, in despite of the teeth of all + rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now + how wit may be made a Jack-a-Lent, when 'tis upon + ill employment! + +SIR HUGH EVANS Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your + desires, and fairies will not pinse you. + +FORD Well said, fairy Hugh. + +SIR HUGH EVANS And leave your jealousies too, I pray you. + +FORD I will never mistrust my wife again till thou art + able to woo her in good English. + +FALSTAFF Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it, that + it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreaching as + this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? shall I + have a coxcomb of frize? 'Tis time I were choked + with a piece of toasted cheese. + +SIR HUGH EVANS Seese is not good to give putter; your belly is all putter. + +FALSTAFF 'Seese' and 'putter'! have I lived to stand at the + taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This + is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking + through the realm. + +MISTRESS PAGE Why Sir John, do you think, though we would have the + virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders + and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, + that ever the devil could have made you our delight? + +FORD What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax? + +MISTRESS PAGE A puffed man? + +PAGE Old, cold, withered and of intolerable entrails? + +FORD And one that is as slanderous as Satan? + +PAGE And as poor as Job? + +FORD And as wicked as his wife? + +SIR HUGH EVANS And given to fornications, and to taverns and sack + and wine and metheglins, and to drinkings and + swearings and starings, pribbles and prabbles? + +FALSTAFF Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I + am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh + flannel; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me: use + me as you will. + +FORD Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one + Master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to + whom you should have been a pander: over and above + that you have suffered, I think to repay that money + will be a biting affliction. + +PAGE Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset + to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to + laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee: tell her + Master Slender hath married her daughter. + +MISTRESS PAGE [Aside] Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page be my + daughter, she is, by this, Doctor Caius' wife. + + [Enter SLENDER] + +SLENDER Whoa ho! ho, father Page! + +PAGE Son, how now! how now, son! have you dispatched? + +SLENDER Dispatched! I'll make the best in Gloucestershire + know on't; would I were hanged, la, else. + +PAGE Of what, son? + +SLENDER I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, + and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been + i' the church, I would have swinged him, or he + should have swinged me. If I did not think it had + been Anne Page, would I might never stir!--and 'tis + a postmaster's boy. + +PAGE Upon my life, then, you took the wrong. + +SLENDER What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took + a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for + all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had + him. + +PAGE Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how + you should know my daughter by her garments? + +SLENDER I went to her in white, and cried 'mum,' and she + cried 'budget,' as Anne and I had appointed; and yet + it was not Anne, but a postmaster's boy. + +MISTRESS PAGE Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; + turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is + now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married. + + [Enter DOCTOR CAIUS] + +DOCTOR CAIUS Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened: I ha' + married un garcon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy; + it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened. + +MISTRESS PAGE Why, did you take her in green? + +DOCTOR CAIUS Ay, by gar, and 'tis a boy: by gar, I'll raise all Windsor. + + [Exit] + +FORD This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne? + +PAGE My heart misgives me: here comes Master Fenton. + + [Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE] + + How now, Master Fenton! + +ANNE PAGE Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon! + +PAGE Now, mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender? + +MISTRESS PAGE Why went you not with master doctor, maid? + +FENTON You do amaze her: hear the truth of it. + You would have married her most shamefully, + Where there was no proportion held in love. + The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, + Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. + The offence is holy that she hath committed; + And this deceit loses the name of craft, + Of disobedience, or unduteous title, + Since therein she doth evitate and shun + A thousand irreligious cursed hours, + Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. + +FORD Stand not amazed; here is no remedy: + In love the heavens themselves do guide the state; + Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. + +FALSTAFF I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to + strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced. + +PAGE Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven give thee joy! + What cannot be eschew'd must be embraced. + +FALSTAFF When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased. + +MISTRESS PAGE Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton, + Heaven give you many, many merry days! + Good husband, let us every one go home, + And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire; + Sir John and all. + +FORD Let it be so. Sir John, + To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word + For he tonight shall lie with Mistress Ford. + + [Exeunt] + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +THESEUS Duke of Athens. + +EGEUS father to Hermia. + + +LYSANDER | + | in love with Hermia. +DEMETRIUS | + + +PHILOSTRATE master of the revels to Theseus. + +QUINCE a carpenter. + +SNUG a joiner. + +BOTTOM a weaver. + +FLUTE a bellows-mender. + +SNOUT a tinker. + +STARVELING a tailor. + +HIPPOLYTA queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus. + +HERMIA daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander. + +HELENA in love with Demetrius. + +OBERON king of the fairies. + +TITANIA queen of the fairies. + +PUCK or Robin Goodfellow. + + +PEASEBLOSSOM | + | +COBWEB | + | fairies. +MOTH | + | +MUSTARDSEED | + + + Other fairies attending their King and Queen. + + Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta. + +SCENE Athens, and a wood near it. + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Athens. The palace of THESEUS. + + + [Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and + Attendants] + +THESEUS Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour + Draws on apace; four happy days bring in + Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow + This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, + Like to a step-dame or a dowager + Long withering out a young man revenue. + +HIPPOLYTA Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; + Four nights will quickly dream away the time; + And then the moon, like to a silver bow + New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night + Of our solemnities. + +THESEUS Go, Philostrate, + Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; + Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; + Turn melancholy forth to funerals; + The pale companion is not for our pomp. + + [Exit PHILOSTRATE] + + Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, + And won thy love, doing thee injuries; + But I will wed thee in another key, + With pomp, with triumph and with revelling. + + [Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS] + +EGEUS Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! + +THESEUS Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? + +EGEUS Full of vexation come I, with complaint + Against my child, my daughter Hermia. + Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, + This man hath my consent to marry her. + Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke, + This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child; + Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, + And interchanged love-tokens with my child: + Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, + With feigning voice verses of feigning love, + And stolen the impression of her fantasy + With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, + Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers + Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: + With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart, + Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, + To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, + Be it so she; will not here before your grace + Consent to marry with Demetrius, + I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, + As she is mine, I may dispose of her: + Which shall be either to this gentleman + Or to her death, according to our law + Immediately provided in that case. + +THESEUS What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid: + To you your father should be as a god; + One that composed your beauties, yea, and one + To whom you are but as a form in wax + By him imprinted and within his power + To leave the figure or disfigure it. + Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. + +HERMIA So is Lysander. + +THESEUS In himself he is; + But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, + The other must be held the worthier. + +HERMIA I would my father look'd but with my eyes. + +THESEUS Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. + +HERMIA I do entreat your grace to pardon me. + I know not by what power I am made bold, + Nor how it may concern my modesty, + In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; + But I beseech your grace that I may know + The worst that may befall me in this case, + If I refuse to wed Demetrius. + +THESEUS Either to die the death or to abjure + For ever the society of men. + Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; + Know of your youth, examine well your blood, + Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, + You can endure the livery of a nun, + For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, + To live a barren sister all your life, + Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. + Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, + To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; + But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, + Than that which withering on the virgin thorn + Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. + +HERMIA So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, + Ere I will my virgin patent up + Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke + My soul consents not to give sovereignty. + +THESEUS Take time to pause; and, by the nest new moon-- + The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, + For everlasting bond of fellowship-- + Upon that day either prepare to die + For disobedience to your father's will, + Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; + Or on Diana's altar to protest + For aye austerity and single life. + +DEMETRIUS Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield + Thy crazed title to my certain right. + +LYSANDER You have her father's love, Demetrius; + Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. + +EGEUS Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, + And what is mine my love shall render him. + And she is mine, and all my right of her + I do estate unto Demetrius. + +LYSANDER I am, my lord, as well derived as he, + As well possess'd; my love is more than his; + My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, + If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; + And, which is more than all these boasts can be, + I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: + Why should not I then prosecute my right? + Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, + Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, + And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, + Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, + Upon this spotted and inconstant man. + +THESEUS I must confess that I have heard so much, + And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; + But, being over-full of self-affairs, + My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; + And come, Egeus; you shall go with me, + I have some private schooling for you both. + For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself + To fit your fancies to your father's will; + Or else the law of Athens yields you up-- + Which by no means we may extenuate-- + To death, or to a vow of single life. + Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love? + Demetrius and Egeus, go along: + I must employ you in some business + Against our nuptial and confer with you + Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. + +EGEUS With duty and desire we follow you. + + [Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA] + +LYSANDER How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale? + How chance the roses there do fade so fast? + +HERMIA Belike for want of rain, which I could well + Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. + +LYSANDER Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, + Could ever hear by tale or history, + The course of true love never did run smooth; + But, either it was different in blood,-- + +HERMIA O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low. + +LYSANDER Or else misgraffed in respect of years,-- + +HERMIA O spite! too old to be engaged to young. + +LYSANDER Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,-- + +HERMIA O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. + +LYSANDER Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, + War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, + Making it momentany as a sound, + Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; + Brief as the lightning in the collied night, + That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, + And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' + The jaws of darkness do devour it up: + So quick bright things come to confusion. + +HERMIA If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, + It stands as an edict in destiny: + Then let us teach our trial patience, + Because it is a customary cross, + As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, + Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. + +LYSANDER A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. + I have a widow aunt, a dowager + Of great revenue, and she hath no child: + From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; + And she respects me as her only son. + There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; + And to that place the sharp Athenian law + Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, + Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; + And in the wood, a league without the town, + Where I did meet thee once with Helena, + To do observance to a morn of May, + There will I stay for thee. + +HERMIA My good Lysander! + I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, + By his best arrow with the golden head, + By the simplicity of Venus' doves, + By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, + And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, + When the false Troyan under sail was seen, + By all the vows that ever men have broke, + In number more than ever women spoke, + In that same place thou hast appointed me, + To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. + +LYSANDER Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. + + [Enter HELENA] + +HERMIA God speed fair Helena! whither away? + +HELENA Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. + Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! + Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air + More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, + When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. + Sickness is catching: O, were favour so, + Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; + My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, + My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. + Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, + The rest I'd give to be to you translated. + O, teach me how you look, and with what art + You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. + +HERMIA I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. + +HELENA O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! + +HERMIA I give him curses, yet he gives me love. + +HELENA O that my prayers could such affection move! + +HERMIA The more I hate, the more he follows me. + +HELENA The more I love, the more he hateth me. + +HERMIA His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. + +HELENA None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine! + +HERMIA Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; + Lysander and myself will fly this place. + Before the time I did Lysander see, + Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: + O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, + That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! + +LYSANDER Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: + To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold + Her silver visage in the watery glass, + Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, + A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, + Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. + +HERMIA And in the wood, where often you and I + Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, + Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, + There my Lysander and myself shall meet; + And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, + To seek new friends and stranger companies. + Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us; + And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! + Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight + From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. + +LYSANDER I will, my Hermia. + + [Exit HERMIA] + + Helena, adieu: + As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! + + [Exit] + +HELENA How happy some o'er other some can be! + Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. + But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; + He will not know what all but he do know: + And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, + So I, admiring of his qualities: + Things base and vile, folding no quantity, + Love can transpose to form and dignity: + Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; + And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind: + Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste; + Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: + And therefore is Love said to be a child, + Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. + As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, + So the boy Love is perjured every where: + For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, + He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; + And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, + So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt. + I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: + Then to the wood will he to-morrow night + Pursue her; and for this intelligence + If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: + But herein mean I to enrich my pain, + To have his sight thither and back again. + + [Exit] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Athens. QUINCE'S house. + + + [Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and + STARVELING] + +QUINCE Is all our company here? + +BOTTOM You were best to call them generally, man by man, + according to the scrip. + +QUINCE Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is + thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our + interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his + wedding-day at night. + +BOTTOM First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats + on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow + to a point. + +QUINCE Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and + most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. + +BOTTOM A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a + merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your + actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. + +QUINCE Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. + +BOTTOM Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. + +QUINCE You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. + +BOTTOM What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? + +QUINCE A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. + +BOTTOM That will ask some tears in the true performing of + it: if I do it, let the audience look to their + eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some + measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a + tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to + tear a cat in, to make all split. + The raging rocks + And shivering shocks + Shall break the locks + Of prison gates; + And Phibbus' car + Shall shine from far + And make and mar + The foolish Fates. + This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players. + This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is + more condoling. + +QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. + +FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. + +QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. + +FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? + +QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. + +FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming. + +QUINCE That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and + you may speak as small as you will. + +BOTTOM An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll + speak in a monstrous little voice. 'Thisne, + Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, lover dear! thy Thisby dear, + and lady dear!' + +QUINCE No, no; you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby. + +BOTTOM Well, proceed. + +QUINCE Robin Starveling, the tailor. + +STARVELING Here, Peter Quince. + +QUINCE Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. + Tom Snout, the tinker. + +SNOUT Here, Peter Quince. + +QUINCE You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father: + Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, I + hope, here is a play fitted. + +SNUG Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it + be, give it me, for I am slow of study. + +QUINCE You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. + +BOTTOM Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will + do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, + that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, + let him roar again.' + +QUINCE An you should do it too terribly, you would fright + the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; + and that were enough to hang us all. + +ALL That would hang us, every mother's son. + +BOTTOM I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the + ladies out of their wits, they would have no more + discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my + voice so that I will roar you as gently as any + sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any + nightingale. + +QUINCE You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a + sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a + summer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man: + therefore you must needs play Pyramus. + +BOTTOM Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best + to play it in? + +QUINCE Why, what you will. + +BOTTOM I will discharge it in either your straw-colour + beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain + beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your + perfect yellow. + +QUINCE Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and + then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here + are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request + you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; + and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the + town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if + we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with + company, and our devices known. In the meantime I + will draw a bill of properties, such as our play + wants. I pray you, fail me not. + +BOTTOM We will meet; and there we may rehearse most + obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu. + +QUINCE At the duke's oak we meet. + +BOTTOM Enough; hold or cut bow-strings. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A wood near Athens. + + + [Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK] + +PUCK How now, spirit! whither wander you? + +Fairy Over hill, over dale, + Thorough bush, thorough brier, + Over park, over pale, + Thorough flood, thorough fire, + I do wander everywhere, + Swifter than the moon's sphere; + And I serve the fairy queen, + To dew her orbs upon the green. + The cowslips tall her pensioners be: + In their gold coats spots you see; + Those be rubies, fairy favours, + In those freckles live their savours: + I must go seek some dewdrops here + And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. + Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: + Our queen and all our elves come here anon. + +PUCK The king doth keep his revels here to-night: + Take heed the queen come not within his sight; + For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, + Because that she as her attendant hath + A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; + She never had so sweet a changeling; + And jealous Oberon would have the child + Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; + But she perforce withholds the loved boy, + Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy: + And now they never meet in grove or green, + By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, + But, they do square, that all their elves for fear + Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. + +Fairy Either I mistake your shape and making quite, + Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite + Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he + That frights the maidens of the villagery; + Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern + And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; + And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; + Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? + Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, + You do their work, and they shall have good luck: + Are not you he? + +PUCK Thou speak'st aright; + I am that merry wanderer of the night. + I jest to Oberon and make him smile + When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, + Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: + And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, + In very likeness of a roasted crab, + And when she drinks, against her lips I bob + And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. + The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, + Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; + Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, + And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; + And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, + And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear + A merrier hour was never wasted there. + But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. + +Fairy And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! + + [Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; + from the other, TITANIA, with hers] + +OBERON Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. + +TITANIA What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: + I have forsworn his bed and company. + +OBERON Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord? + +TITANIA Then I must be thy lady: but I know + When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, + And in the shape of Corin sat all day, + Playing on pipes of corn and versing love + To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, + Come from the farthest Steppe of India? + But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, + Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, + To Theseus must be wedded, and you come + To give their bed joy and prosperity. + +OBERON How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, + Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, + Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? + Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night + From Perigenia, whom he ravished? + And make him with fair AEgle break his faith, + With Ariadne and Antiopa? + +TITANIA These are the forgeries of jealousy: + And never, since the middle summer's spring, + Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, + By paved fountain or by rushy brook, + Or in the beached margent of the sea, + To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, + But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. + Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, + As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea + Contagious fogs; which falling in the land + Have every pelting river made so proud + That they have overborne their continents: + The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, + The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn + Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; + The fold stands empty in the drowned field, + And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; + The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, + And the quaint mazes in the wanton green + For lack of tread are undistinguishable: + The human mortals want their winter here; + No night is now with hymn or carol blest: + Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, + Pale in her anger, washes all the air, + That rheumatic diseases do abound: + And thorough this distemperature we see + The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts + Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, + And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown + An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds + Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer, + The childing autumn, angry winter, change + Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, + By their increase, now knows not which is which: + And this same progeny of evils comes + From our debate, from our dissension; + We are their parents and original. + +OBERON Do you amend it then; it lies in you: + Why should Titania cross her Oberon? + I do but beg a little changeling boy, + To be my henchman. + +TITANIA Set your heart at rest: + The fairy land buys not the child of me. + His mother was a votaress of my order: + And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, + Full often hath she gossip'd by my side, + And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, + Marking the embarked traders on the flood, + When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive + And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; + Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait + Following,--her womb then rich with my young squire,-- + Would imitate, and sail upon the land, + To fetch me trifles, and return again, + As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. + But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; + And for her sake do I rear up her boy, + And for her sake I will not part with him. + +OBERON How long within this wood intend you stay? + +TITANIA Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day. + If you will patiently dance in our round + And see our moonlight revels, go with us; + If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. + +OBERON Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. + +TITANIA Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! + We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. + + [Exit TITANIA with her train] + +OBERON Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove + Till I torment thee for this injury. + My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest + Since once I sat upon a promontory, + And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back + Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath + That the rude sea grew civil at her song + And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, + To hear the sea-maid's music. + +PUCK I remember. + +OBERON That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, + Flying between the cold moon and the earth, + Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took + At a fair vestal throned by the west, + And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, + As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; + But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft + Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, + And the imperial votaress passed on, + In maiden meditation, fancy-free. + Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: + It fell upon a little western flower, + Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, + And maidens call it love-in-idleness. + Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once: + The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid + Will make or man or woman madly dote + Upon the next live creature that it sees. + Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again + Ere the leviathan can swim a league. + +PUCK I'll put a girdle round about the earth + In forty minutes. + + [Exit] + +OBERON Having once this juice, + I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, + And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. + The next thing then she waking looks upon, + Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, + On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, + She shall pursue it with the soul of love: + And ere I take this charm from off her sight, + As I can take it with another herb, + I'll make her render up her page to me. + But who comes here? I am invisible; + And I will overhear their conference. + + [Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him] + +DEMETRIUS I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. + Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? + The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. + Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood; + And here am I, and wode within this wood, + Because I cannot meet my Hermia. + Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. + +HELENA You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; + But yet you draw not iron, for my heart + Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, + And I shall have no power to follow you. + +DEMETRIUS Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? + Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth + Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you? + +HELENA And even for that do I love you the more. + I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, + The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: + Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, + Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, + Unworthy as I am, to follow you. + What worser place can I beg in your love,-- + And yet a place of high respect with me,-- + Than to be used as you use your dog? + +DEMETRIUS Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; + For I am sick when I do look on thee. + +HELENA And I am sick when I look not on you. + +DEMETRIUS You do impeach your modesty too much, + To leave the city and commit yourself + Into the hands of one that loves you not; + To trust the opportunity of night + And the ill counsel of a desert place + With the rich worth of your virginity. + +HELENA Your virtue is my privilege: for that + It is not night when I do see your face, + Therefore I think I am not in the night; + Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, + For you in my respect are all the world: + Then how can it be said I am alone, + When all the world is here to look on me? + +DEMETRIUS I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, + And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. + +HELENA The wildest hath not such a heart as you. + Run when you will, the story shall be changed: + Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; + The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind + Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, + When cowardice pursues and valour flies. + +DEMETRIUS I will not stay thy questions; let me go: + Or, if thou follow me, do not believe + But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. + +HELENA Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, + You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! + Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: + We cannot fight for love, as men may do; + We should be wood and were not made to woo. + + [Exit DEMETRIUS] + + I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, + To die upon the hand I love so well. + + [Exit] + +OBERON Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, + Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love. + + [Re-enter PUCK] + + Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. + +PUCK Ay, there it is. + +OBERON I pray thee, give it me. + I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, + Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, + Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, + With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine: + There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, + Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; + And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, + Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in: + And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, + And make her full of hateful fantasies. + Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: + A sweet Athenian lady is in love + With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; + But do it when the next thing he espies + May be the lady: thou shalt know the man + By the Athenian garments he hath on. + Effect it with some care, that he may prove + More fond on her than she upon her love: + And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. + +PUCK Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Another part of the wood. + + + [Enter TITANIA, with her train] + +TITANIA Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; + Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; + Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, + Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, + To make my small elves coats, and some keep back + The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders + At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; + Then to your offices and let me rest. + + [The Fairies sing] + + You spotted snakes with double tongue, + Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; + Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, + Come not near our fairy queen. + Philomel, with melody + Sing in our sweet lullaby; + Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: + Never harm, + Nor spell nor charm, + Come our lovely lady nigh; + So, good night, with lullaby. + Weaving spiders, come not here; + Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence! + Beetles black, approach not near; + Worm nor snail, do no offence. + Philomel, with melody, &c. + +Fairy Hence, away! now all is well: + One aloof stand sentinel. + + [Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps] + + [Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids] + +OBERON What thou seest when thou dost wake, + Do it for thy true-love take, + Love and languish for his sake: + Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, + Pard, or boar with bristled hair, + In thy eye that shall appear + When thou wakest, it is thy dear: + Wake when some vile thing is near. + + [Exit] + + [Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA] + +LYSANDER Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; + And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: + We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, + And tarry for the comfort of the day. + +HERMIA Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed; + For I upon this bank will rest my head. + +LYSANDER One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; + One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. + +HERMIA Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, + Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. + +LYSANDER O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! + Love takes the meaning in love's conference. + I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit + So that but one heart we can make of it; + Two bosoms interchained with an oath; + So then two bosoms and a single troth. + Then by your side no bed-room me deny; + For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. + +HERMIA Lysander riddles very prettily: + Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, + If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. + But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy + Lie further off; in human modesty, + Such separation as may well be said + Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, + So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend: + Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end! + +LYSANDER Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I; + And then end life when I end loyalty! + Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest! + +HERMIA With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! + + [They sleep] + + [Enter PUCK] + +PUCK Through the forest have I gone. + But Athenian found I none, + On whose eyes I might approve + This flower's force in stirring love. + Night and silence.--Who is here? + Weeds of Athens he doth wear: + This is he, my master said, + Despised the Athenian maid; + And here the maiden, sleeping sound, + On the dank and dirty ground. + Pretty soul! she durst not lie + Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. + Churl, upon thy eyes I throw + All the power this charm doth owe. + When thou wakest, let love forbid + Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: + So awake when I am gone; + For I must now to Oberon. + + [Exit] + + [Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running] + +HELENA Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. + +DEMETRIUS I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. + +HELENA O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. + +DEMETRIUS Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. + + [Exit] + +HELENA O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! + The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. + Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; + For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. + How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: + If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. + No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; + For beasts that meet me run away for fear: + Therefore no marvel though Demetrius + Do, as a monster fly my presence thus. + What wicked and dissembling glass of mine + Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? + But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! + Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. + Lysander if you live, good sir, awake. + +LYSANDER [Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. + Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, + That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. + Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word + Is that vile name to perish on my sword! + +HELENA Do not say so, Lysander; say not so + What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? + Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. + +LYSANDER Content with Hermia! No; I do repent + The tedious minutes I with her have spent. + Not Hermia but Helena I love: + Who will not change a raven for a dove? + The will of man is by his reason sway'd; + And reason says you are the worthier maid. + Things growing are not ripe until their season + So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; + And touching now the point of human skill, + Reason becomes the marshal to my will + And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook + Love's stories written in love's richest book. + +HELENA Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? + When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? + Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, + That I did never, no, nor never can, + Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, + But you must flout my insufficiency? + Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, + In such disdainful manner me to woo. + But fare you well: perforce I must confess + I thought you lord of more true gentleness. + O, that a lady, of one man refused. + Should of another therefore be abused! + + [Exit] + +LYSANDER She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there: + And never mayst thou come Lysander near! + For as a surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, + Or as tie heresies that men do leave + Are hated most of those they did deceive, + So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, + Of all be hated, but the most of me! + And, all my powers, address your love and might + To honour Helen and to be her knight! + + [Exit] + +HERMIA [Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best + To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! + Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! + Lysander, look how I do quake with fear: + Methought a serpent eat my heart away, + And you sat smiling at his cruel pray. + Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! + What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word? + Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear; + Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear. + No? then I well perceive you all not nigh + Either death or you I'll find immediately. + + [Exit] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I The wood. TITANIA lying asleep. + + + [Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and + STARVELING] + +BOTTOM Are we all met? + +QUINCE Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place + for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our + stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we + will do it in action as we will do it before the duke. + +BOTTOM Peter Quince,-- + +QUINCE What sayest thou, bully Bottom? + +BOTTOM There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and + Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must + draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies + cannot abide. How answer you that? + +SNOUT By'r lakin, a parlous fear. + +STARVELING I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. + +BOTTOM Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. + Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to + say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that + Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more + better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not + Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them + out of fear. + +QUINCE Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be + written in eight and six. + +BOTTOM No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. + +SNOUT Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? + +STARVELING I fear it, I promise you. + +BOTTOM Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to + bring in--God shield us!--a lion among ladies, is a + most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful + wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to + look to 't. + +SNOUT Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. + +BOTTOM Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must + be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself + must speak through, saying thus, or to the same + defect,--'Ladies,'--or 'Fair-ladies--I would wish + You,'--or 'I would request you,'--or 'I would + entreat you,--not to fear, not to tremble: my life + for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it + were pity of my life: no I am no such thing; I am a + man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name + his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. + +QUINCE Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things; + that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, + you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. + +SNOUT Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? + +BOTTOM A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find + out moonshine, find out moonshine. + +QUINCE Yes, it doth shine that night. + +BOTTOM Why, then may you leave a casement of the great + chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon + may shine in at the casement. + +QUINCE Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns + and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to + present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is + another thing: we must have a wall in the great + chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby says the story, did + talk through the chink of a wall. + +SNOUT You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? + +BOTTOM Some man or other must present Wall: and let him + have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast + about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his + fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus + and Thisby whisper. + +QUINCE If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, + every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. + Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your + speech, enter into that brake: and so every one + according to his cue. + + [Enter PUCK behind] + +PUCK What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, + So near the cradle of the fairy queen? + What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; + An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. + +QUINCE Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. + +BOTTOM Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,-- + +QUINCE Odours, odours. + +BOTTOM --odours savours sweet: + So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. + But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, + And by and by I will to thee appear. + + [Exit] + +PUCK A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. + + [Exit] + +FLUTE Must I speak now? + +QUINCE Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes + but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. + +FLUTE Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, + Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, + Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, + As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, + I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. + +QUINCE 'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that + yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your + part at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cue + is past; it is, 'never tire.' + +FLUTE O,--As true as truest horse, that yet would + never tire. + + [Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head] + +BOTTOM If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. + +QUINCE O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, + masters! fly, masters! Help! + + [Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING] + +PUCK I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, + Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: + Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, + A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; + And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, + Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. + + [Exit] + +BOTTOM Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to + make me afeard. + + [Re-enter SNOUT] + +SNOUT O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? + +BOTTOM What do you see? you see an asshead of your own, do + you? + + [Exit SNOUT] + + [Re-enter QUINCE] + +QUINCE Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art + translated. + + [Exit] + +BOTTOM I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; + to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir + from this place, do what they can: I will walk up + and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear + I am not afraid. + + [Sings] + + The ousel cock so black of hue, + With orange-tawny bill, + The throstle with his note so true, + The wren with little quill,-- + +TITANIA [Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? + +BOTTOM [Sings] + + The finch, the sparrow and the lark, + The plain-song cuckoo gray, + Whose note full many a man doth mark, + And dares not answer nay;-- + for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish + a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry + 'cuckoo' never so? + +TITANIA I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: + Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; + So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; + And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me + On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. + +BOTTOM Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason + for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and + love keep little company together now-a-days; the + more the pity that some honest neighbours will not + make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. + +TITANIA Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. + +BOTTOM Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out + of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. + +TITANIA Out of this wood do not desire to go: + Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. + I am a spirit of no common rate; + The summer still doth tend upon my state; + And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; + I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee, + And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, + And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep; + And I will purge thy mortal grossness so + That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. + Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed! + + [Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED] + +PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. + +COBWEB And I. + +MOTH And I. + +MUSTARDSEED And I. + +ALL Where shall we go? + +TITANIA Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; + Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; + Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, + With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; + The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, + And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs + And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, + To have my love to bed and to arise; + And pluck the wings from Painted butterflies + To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes: + Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. + +PEASEBLOSSOM Hail, mortal! + +COBWEB Hail! + +MOTH Hail! + +MUSTARDSEED Hail! + +BOTTOM I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your + worship's name. + +COBWEB Cobweb. + +BOTTOM I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master + Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with + you. Your name, honest gentleman? + +PEASEBLOSSOM Peaseblossom. + +BOTTOM I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your + mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good + Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more + acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir? + +MUSTARDSEED Mustardseed. + +BOTTOM Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: + that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath + devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise + you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. I + desire your more acquaintance, good Master + Mustardseed. + +TITANIA Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. + The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; + And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, + Lamenting some enforced chastity. + Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Another part of the wood. + + + [Enter OBERON] + +OBERON I wonder if Titania be awaked; + Then, what it was that next came in her eye, + Which she must dote on in extremity. + + [Enter PUCK] + + Here comes my messenger. + How now, mad spirit! + What night-rule now about this haunted grove? + +PUCK My mistress with a monster is in love. + Near to her close and consecrated bower, + While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, + A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, + That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, + Were met together to rehearse a play + Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day. + The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, + Who Pyramus presented, in their sport + Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake + When I did him at this advantage take, + An ass's nole I fixed on his head: + Anon his Thisbe must be answered, + And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, + As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, + Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, + Rising and cawing at the gun's report, + Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, + So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; + And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; + He murder cries and help from Athens calls. + Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears + thus strong, + Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; + For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; + Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all + things catch. + I led them on in this distracted fear, + And left sweet Pyramus translated there: + When in that moment, so it came to pass, + Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. + +OBERON This falls out better than I could devise. + But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes + With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? + +PUCK I took him sleeping,--that is finish'd too,-- + And the Athenian woman by his side: + That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. + + [Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS] + +OBERON Stand close: this is the same Athenian. + +PUCK This is the woman, but not this the man. + +DEMETRIUS O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? + Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. + +HERMIA Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, + For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, + If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, + Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, + And kill me too. + The sun was not so true unto the day + As he to me: would he have stolen away + From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon + This whole earth may be bored and that the moon + May through the centre creep and so displease + Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. + It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; + So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. + +DEMETRIUS So should the murder'd look, and so should I, + Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: + Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, + As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. + +HERMIA What's this to my Lysander? where is he? + Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? + +DEMETRIUS I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. + +HERMIA Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds + Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? + Henceforth be never number'd among men! + O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! + Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, + And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! + Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? + An adder did it; for with doubler tongue + Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. + +DEMETRIUS You spend your passion on a misprised mood: + I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; + Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. + +HERMIA I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. + +DEMETRIUS An if I could, what should I get therefore? + +HERMIA A privilege never to see me more. + And from thy hated presence part I so: + See me no more, whether he be dead or no. + + [Exit] + +DEMETRIUS There is no following her in this fierce vein: + Here therefore for a while I will remain. + So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow + For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: + Which now in some slight measure it will pay, + If for his tender here I make some stay. + + [Lies down and sleeps] + +OBERON What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite + And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: + Of thy misprision must perforce ensue + Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true. + +PUCK Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, + A million fail, confounding oath on oath. + +OBERON About the wood go swifter than the wind, + And Helena of Athens look thou find: + All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, + With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: + By some illusion see thou bring her here: + I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. + +PUCK I go, I go; look how I go, + Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. + + [Exit] + +OBERON Flower of this purple dye, + Hit with Cupid's archery, + Sink in apple of his eye. + When his love he doth espy, + Let her shine as gloriously + As the Venus of the sky. + When thou wakest, if she be by, + Beg of her for remedy. + + [Re-enter PUCK] + +PUCK Captain of our fairy band, + Helena is here at hand; + And the youth, mistook by me, + Pleading for a lover's fee. + Shall we their fond pageant see? + Lord, what fools these mortals be! + +OBERON Stand aside: the noise they make + Will cause Demetrius to awake. + +PUCK Then will two at once woo one; + That must needs be sport alone; + And those things do best please me + That befal preposterously. + + [Enter LYSANDER and HELENA] + +LYSANDER Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? + Scorn and derision never come in tears: + Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, + In their nativity all truth appears. + How can these things in me seem scorn to you, + Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? + +HELENA You do advance your cunning more and more. + When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! + These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? + Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: + Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, + Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. + +LYSANDER I had no judgment when to her I swore. + +HELENA Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. + +LYSANDER Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. + +DEMETRIUS [Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! + To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? + Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show + Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! + That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, + Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow + When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss + This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! + +HELENA O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent + To set against me for your merriment: + If you we re civil and knew courtesy, + You would not do me thus much injury. + Can you not hate me, as I know you do, + But you must join in souls to mock me too? + If you were men, as men you are in show, + You would not use a gentle lady so; + To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, + When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. + You both are rivals, and love Hermia; + And now both rivals, to mock Helena: + A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, + To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes + With your derision! none of noble sort + Would so offend a virgin, and extort + A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. + +LYSANDER You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; + For you love Hermia; this you know I know: + And here, with all good will, with all my heart, + In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; + And yours of Helena to me bequeath, + Whom I do love and will do till my death. + +HELENA Never did mockers waste more idle breath. + +DEMETRIUS Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: + If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. + My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, + And now to Helen is it home return'd, + There to remain. + +LYSANDER Helen, it is not so. + +DEMETRIUS Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, + Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. + Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. + + [Re-enter HERMIA] + +HERMIA Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, + The ear more quick of apprehension makes; + Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, + It pays the hearing double recompense. + Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; + Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound + But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? + +LYSANDER Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? + +HERMIA What love could press Lysander from my side? + +LYSANDER Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, + Fair Helena, who more engilds the night + Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. + Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know, + The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? + +HERMIA You speak not as you think: it cannot be. + +HELENA Lo, she is one of this confederacy! + Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three + To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. + Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! + Have you conspired, have you with these contrived + To bait me with this foul derision? + Is all the counsel that we two have shared, + The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, + When we have chid the hasty-footed time + For parting us,--O, is it all forgot? + All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? + We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, + Have with our needles created both one flower, + Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, + Both warbling of one song, both in one key, + As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, + Had been incorporate. So we grow together, + Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, + But yet an union in partition; + Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; + So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; + Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, + Due but to one and crowned with one crest. + And will you rent our ancient love asunder, + To join with men in scorning your poor friend? + It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: + Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, + Though I alone do feel the injury. + +HERMIA I am amazed at your passionate words. + I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. + +HELENA Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, + To follow me and praise my eyes and face? + And made your other love, Demetrius, + Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, + To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, + Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this + To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander + Deny your love, so rich within his soul, + And tender me, forsooth, affection, + But by your setting on, by your consent? + What thought I be not so in grace as you, + So hung upon with love, so fortunate, + But miserable most, to love unloved? + This you should pity rather than despise. + +HERNIA I understand not what you mean by this. + +HELENA Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, + Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; + Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: + This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. + If you have any pity, grace, or manners, + You would not make me such an argument. + But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; + Which death or absence soon shall remedy. + +LYSANDER Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: + My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! + +HELENA O excellent! + +HERMIA Sweet, do not scorn her so. + +DEMETRIUS If she cannot entreat, I can compel. + +LYSANDER Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: + Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. + Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: + I swear by that which I will lose for thee, + To prove him false that says I love thee not. + +DEMETRIUS I say I love thee more than he can do. + +LYSANDER If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. + +DEMETRIUS Quick, come! + +HERMIA Lysander, whereto tends all this? + +LYSANDER Away, you Ethiope! + +DEMETRIUS No, no; he'll [ ] + Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, + But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! + +LYSANDER Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, + Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! + +HERMIA Why are you grown so rude? what change is this? + Sweet love,-- + +LYSANDER Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! + Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence! + +HERMIA Do you not jest? + +HELENA Yes, sooth; and so do you. + +LYSANDER Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. + +DEMETRIUS I would I had your bond, for I perceive + A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word. + +LYSANDER What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? + Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. + +HERMIA What, can you do me greater harm than hate? + Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love! + Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? + I am as fair now as I was erewhile. + Since night you loved me; yet since night you left + me: + Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!-- + In earnest, shall I say? + +LYSANDER Ay, by my life; + And never did desire to see thee more. + Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; + Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest + That I do hate thee and love Helena. + +HERMIA O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! + You thief of love! what, have you come by night + And stolen my love's heart from him? + +HELENA Fine, i'faith! + Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, + No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear + Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? + Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! + +HERMIA Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game. + Now I perceive that she hath made compare + Between our statures; she hath urged her height; + And with her personage, her tall personage, + Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. + And are you grown so high in his esteem; + Because I am so dwarfish and so low? + How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; + How low am I? I am not yet so low + But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. + +HELENA I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, + Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; + I have no gift at all in shrewishness; + I am a right maid for my cowardice: + Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, + Because she is something lower than myself, + That I can match her. + +HERMIA Lower! hark, again. + +HELENA Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. + I evermore did love you, Hermia, + Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; + Save that, in love unto Demetrius, + I told him of your stealth unto this wood. + He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him; + But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me + To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: + And now, so you will let me quiet go, + To Athens will I bear my folly back + And follow you no further: let me go: + You see how simple and how fond I am. + +HERMIA Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you? + +HELENA A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. + +HERMIA What, with Lysander? + +HELENA With Demetrius. + +LYSANDER Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. + +DEMETRIUS No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. + +HELENA O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! + She was a vixen when she went to school; + And though she be but little, she is fierce. + +HERMIA 'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'! + Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? + Let me come to her. + +LYSANDER Get you gone, you dwarf; + You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; + You bead, you acorn. + +DEMETRIUS You are too officious + In her behalf that scorns your services. + Let her alone: speak not of Helena; + Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend + Never so little show of love to her, + Thou shalt aby it. + +LYSANDER Now she holds me not; + Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, + Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. + +DEMETRIUS Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. + + [Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS] + +HERMIA You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: + Nay, go not back. + +HELENA I will not trust you, I, + Nor longer stay in your curst company. + Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, + My legs are longer though, to run away. + + [Exit] + +HERMIA I am amazed, and know not what to say. + + [Exit] + +OBERON This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, + Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. + +PUCK Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. + Did not you tell me I should know the man + By the Athenian garment be had on? + And so far blameless proves my enterprise, + That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; + And so far am I glad it so did sort + As this their jangling I esteem a sport. + +OBERON Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight: + Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; + The starry welkin cover thou anon + With drooping fog as black as Acheron, + And lead these testy rivals so astray + As one come not within another's way. + Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, + Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; + And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; + And from each other look thou lead them thus, + Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep + With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: + Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; + Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, + To take from thence all error with his might, + And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. + When they next wake, all this derision + Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, + And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, + With league whose date till death shall never end. + Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, + I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy; + And then I will her charmed eye release + From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. + +PUCK My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, + For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, + And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; + At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, + Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, + That in crossways and floods have burial, + Already to their wormy beds are gone; + For fear lest day should look their shames upon, + They willfully themselves exile from light + And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. + +OBERON But we are spirits of another sort: + I with the morning's love have oft made sport, + And, like a forester, the groves may tread, + Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, + Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, + Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. + But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: + We may effect this business yet ere day. + + [Exit] + +PUCK Up and down, up and down, + I will lead them up and down: + I am fear'd in field and town: + Goblin, lead them up and down. + Here comes one. + + [Re-enter LYSANDER] + +LYSANDER Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now. + +PUCK Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou? + +LYSANDER I will be with thee straight. + +PUCK Follow me, then, + To plainer ground. + + [Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice] + + [Re-enter DEMETRIUS] + +DEMETRIUS Lysander! speak again: + Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? + Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? + +PUCK Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, + Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, + And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child; + I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled + That draws a sword on thee. + +DEMETRIUS Yea, art thou there? + +PUCK Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter LYSANDER] + +LYSANDER He goes before me and still dares me on: + When I come where he calls, then he is gone. + The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I: + I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly; + That fallen am I in dark uneven way, + And here will rest me. + + [Lies down] + + Come, thou gentle day! + For if but once thou show me thy grey light, + I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. + + [Sleeps] + + [Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS] + +PUCK Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not? + +DEMETRIUS Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot + Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, + And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. + Where art thou now? + +PUCK Come hither: I am here. + +DEMETRIUS Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, + If ever I thy face by daylight see: + Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me + To measure out my length on this cold bed. + By day's approach look to be visited. + + [Lies down and sleeps] + + [Re-enter HELENA] + +HELENA O weary night, O long and tedious night, + Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, + That I may back to Athens by daylight, + From these that my poor company detest: + And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, + Steal me awhile from mine own company. + + [Lies down and sleeps] + +PUCK Yet but three? Come one more; + Two of both kinds make up four. + Here she comes, curst and sad: + Cupid is a knavish lad, + Thus to make poor females mad. + + [Re-enter HERMIA] + +HERMIA Never so weary, never so in woe, + Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, + I can no further crawl, no further go; + My legs can keep no pace with my desires. + Here will I rest me till the break of day. + Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! + + [Lies down and sleeps] + +PUCK On the ground + Sleep sound: + I'll apply + To your eye, + Gentle lover, remedy. + + [Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes] + + When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + And the country proverb known, + That every man should take his own, + In your waking shall be shown: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill; + The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. + + [Exit] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The same. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA + lying asleep. + + + [Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, + MUSTARDSEED, and other Fairies attending; OBERON + behind unseen] + +TITANIA Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, + While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, + And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, + And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. + +BOTTOM Where's Peaseblossom? + +PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. + +BOTTOM Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb? + +COBWEB Ready. + +BOTTOM Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your + weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped + humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good + mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret + yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, + good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; + I would be loath to have you overflown with a + honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? + +MUSTARDSEED Ready. + +BOTTOM Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, + leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. + +MUSTARDSEED What's your Will? + +BOTTOM Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb + to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for + methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I + am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, + I must scratch. + +TITANIA What, wilt thou hear some music, + my sweet love? + +BOTTOM I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have + the tongs and the bones. + +TITANIA Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. + +BOTTOM Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good + dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle + of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. + +TITANIA I have a venturous fairy that shall seek + The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. + +BOTTOM I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. + But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I + have an exposition of sleep come upon me. + +TITANIA Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. + Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. + + [Exeunt fairies] + + So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle + Gently entwist; the female ivy so + Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. + O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! + + [They sleep] + + [Enter PUCK] + +OBERON [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. + See'st thou this sweet sight? + Her dotage now I do begin to pity: + For, meeting her of late behind the wood, + Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, + I did upbraid her and fall out with her; + For she his hairy temples then had rounded + With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; + And that same dew, which sometime on the buds + Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, + Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes + Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. + When I had at my pleasure taunted her + And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, + I then did ask of her her changeling child; + Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent + To bear him to my bower in fairy land. + And now I have the boy, I will undo + This hateful imperfection of her eyes: + And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp + From off the head of this Athenian swain; + That, he awaking when the other do, + May all to Athens back again repair + And think no more of this night's accidents + But as the fierce vexation of a dream. + But first I will release the fairy queen. + Be as thou wast wont to be; + See as thou wast wont to see: + Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower + Hath such force and blessed power. + Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. + +TITANIA My Oberon! what visions have I seen! + Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. + +OBERON There lies your love. + +TITANIA How came these things to pass? + O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! + +OBERON Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. + Titania, music call; and strike more dead + Than common sleep of all these five the sense. + +TITANIA Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! + + [Music, still] + +PUCK Now, when thou wakest, with thine + own fool's eyes peep. + +OBERON Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me, + And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. + Now thou and I are new in amity, + And will to-morrow midnight solemnly + Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, + And bless it to all fair prosperity: + There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be + Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. + +PUCK Fairy king, attend, and mark: + I do hear the morning lark. + +OBERON Then, my queen, in silence sad, + Trip we after the night's shade: + We the globe can compass soon, + Swifter than the wandering moon. + +TITANIA Come, my lord, and in our flight + Tell me how it came this night + That I sleeping here was found + With these mortals on the ground. + + [Exeunt] + + [Horns winded within] + + [Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train] + +THESEUS Go, one of you, find out the forester; + For now our observation is perform'd; + And since we have the vaward of the day, + My love shall hear the music of my hounds. + Uncouple in the western valley; let them go: + Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, + And mark the musical confusion + Of hounds and echo in conjunction. + +HIPPOLYTA I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, + When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear + With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear + Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves, + The skies, the fountains, every region near + Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard + So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. + +THESEUS My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, + So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung + With ears that sweep away the morning dew; + Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; + Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, + Each under each. A cry more tuneable + Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, + In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: + Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these? + +EGEUS My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; + And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; + This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: + I wonder of their being here together. + +THESEUS No doubt they rose up early to observe + The rite of May, and hearing our intent, + Came here in grace our solemnity. + But speak, Egeus; is not this the day + That Hermia should give answer of her choice? + +EGEUS It is, my lord. + +THESEUS Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. + + [Horns and shout within. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, + HELENA, and HERMIA wake and start up] + + Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past: + Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? + +LYSANDER Pardon, my lord. + +THESEUS I pray you all, stand up. + I know you two are rival enemies: + How comes this gentle concord in the world, + That hatred is so far from jealousy, + To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? + +LYSANDER My lord, I shall reply amazedly, + Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, + I cannot truly say how I came here; + But, as I think,--for truly would I speak, + And now do I bethink me, so it is,-- + I came with Hermia hither: our intent + Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, + Without the peril of the Athenian law. + +EGEUS Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: + I beg the law, the law, upon his head. + They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius, + Thereby to have defeated you and me, + You of your wife and me of my consent, + Of my consent that she should be your wife. + +DEMETRIUS My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, + Of this their purpose hither to this wood; + And I in fury hither follow'd them, + Fair Helena in fancy following me. + But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,-- + But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia, + Melted as the snow, seems to me now + As the remembrance of an idle gaud + Which in my childhood I did dote upon; + And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, + The object and the pleasure of mine eye, + Is only Helena. To her, my lord, + Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia: + But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; + But, as in health, come to my natural taste, + Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, + And will for evermore be true to it. + +THESEUS Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: + Of this discourse we more will hear anon. + Egeus, I will overbear your will; + For in the temple by and by with us + These couples shall eternally be knit: + And, for the morning now is something worn, + Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. + Away with us to Athens; three and three, + We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. + Come, Hippolyta. + + [Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train] + +DEMETRIUS These things seem small and undistinguishable, +HERMIA Methinks I see these things with parted eye, + When every thing seems double. + +HELENA So methinks: + And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, + Mine own, and not mine own. + +DEMETRIUS Are you sure + That we are awake? It seems to me + That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think + The duke was here, and bid us follow him? + +HERMIA Yea; and my father. + +HELENA And Hippolyta. + +LYSANDER And he did bid us follow to the temple. + +DEMETRIUS Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him + And by the way let us recount our dreams. + + [Exeunt] + +BOTTOM [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will + answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! + Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, + the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen + hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare + vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to + say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go + about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there + is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and + methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if + he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye + of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not + seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue + to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream + was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of + this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, + because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the + latter end of a play, before the duke: + peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall + sing it at her death. + + [Exit] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Athens. QUINCE'S house. + + + [Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING] + +QUINCE Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet? + +STARVELING He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is + transported. + +FLUTE If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes + not forward, doth it? + +QUINCE It is not possible: you have not a man in all + Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. + +FLUTE No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft + man in Athens. + +QUINCE Yea and the best person too; and he is a very + paramour for a sweet voice. + +FLUTE You must say 'paragon:' a paramour is, God bless us, + a thing of naught. + + [Enter SNUG] + +SNUG Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and + there is two or three lords and ladies more married: + if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made + men. + +FLUTE O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a + day during his life; he could not have 'scaped + sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him + sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; + he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in + Pyramus, or nothing. + + [Enter BOTTOM] + +BOTTOM Where are these lads? where are these hearts? + +QUINCE Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! + +BOTTOM Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not + what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I + will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. + +QUINCE Let us hear, sweet Bottom. + +BOTTOM Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that + the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, + good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your + pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look + o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our + play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have + clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion + pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the + lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions + nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I + do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet + comedy. No more words: away! go, away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Athens. The palace of THESEUS. + + + [Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and + Attendants] + +HIPPOLYTA 'Tis strange my Theseus, that these + lovers speak of. + +THESEUS More strange than true: I never may believe + These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. + Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, + Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend + More than cool reason ever comprehends. + The lunatic, the lover and the poet + Are of imagination all compact: + One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, + That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, + Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: + The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, + Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; + And as imagination bodies forth + The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen + Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing + A local habitation and a name. + Such tricks hath strong imagination, + That if it would but apprehend some joy, + It comprehends some bringer of that joy; + Or in the night, imagining some fear, + How easy is a bush supposed a bear! + +HIPPOLYTA But all the story of the night told over, + And all their minds transfigured so together, + More witnesseth than fancy's images + And grows to something of great constancy; + But, howsoever, strange and admirable. + +THESEUS Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. + + [Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA] + + Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love + Accompany your hearts! + +LYSANDER More than to us + Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! + +THESEUS Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, + To wear away this long age of three hours + Between our after-supper and bed-time? + Where is our usual manager of mirth? + What revels are in hand? Is there no play, + To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? + Call Philostrate. + +PHILOSTRATE Here, mighty Theseus. + +THESEUS Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? + What masque? what music? How shall we beguile + The lazy time, if not with some delight? + +PHILOSTRATE There is a brief how many sports are ripe: + Make choice of which your highness will see first. + + [Giving a paper] + +THESEUS [Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung + By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.' + We'll none of that: that have I told my love, + In glory of my kinsman Hercules. + + [Reads] + + 'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, + Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' + That is an old device; and it was play'd + When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. + + [Reads] + + 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death + Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.' + That is some satire, keen and critical, + Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. + + [Reads] + + 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus + And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.' + Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! + That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. + How shall we find the concord of this discord? + +PHILOSTRATE A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, + Which is as brief as I have known a play; + But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, + Which makes it tedious; for in all the play + There is not one word apt, one player fitted: + And tragical, my noble lord, it is; + For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. + Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, + Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears + The passion of loud laughter never shed. + +THESEUS What are they that do play it? + +PHILOSTRATE Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, + Which never labour'd in their minds till now, + And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories + With this same play, against your nuptial. + +THESEUS And we will hear it. + +PHILOSTRATE No, my noble lord; + It is not for you: I have heard it over, + And it is nothing, nothing in the world; + Unless you can find sport in their intents, + Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, + To do you service. + +THESEUS I will hear that play; + For never anything can be amiss, + When simpleness and duty tender it. + Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. + + [Exit PHILOSTRATE] + +HIPPOLYTA I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged + And duty in his service perishing. + +THESEUS Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. + +HIPPOLYTA He says they can do nothing in this kind. + +THESEUS The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. + Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: + And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect + Takes it in might, not merit. + Where I have come, great clerks have purposed + To greet me with premeditated welcomes; + Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, + Make periods in the midst of sentences, + Throttle their practised accent in their fears + And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, + Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, + Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity + In least speak most, to my capacity. + + [Re-enter PHILOSTRATE] + +PHILOSTRATE So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd. + +THESEUS Let him approach. + + [Flourish of trumpets] + + [Enter QUINCE for the Prologue] + +Prologue If we offend, it is with our good will. + That you should think, we come not to offend, + But with good will. To show our simple skill, + That is the true beginning of our end. + Consider then we come but in despite. + We do not come as minding to contest you, + Our true intent is. All for your delight + We are not here. That you should here repent you, + The actors are at hand and by their show + You shall know all that you are like to know. + +THESEUS This fellow doth not stand upon points. + +LYSANDER He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows + not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not + enough to speak, but to speak true. + +HIPPOLYTA Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child + on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. + +THESEUS His speech, was like a tangled chain; nothing + impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? + + [Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion] + +Prologue Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; + But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. + This man is Pyramus, if you would know; + This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. + This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present + Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; + And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content + To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. + This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, + Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, + By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn + To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. + This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, + The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, + Did scare away, or rather did affright; + And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, + Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. + Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, + And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: + Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, + He bravely broach'd is boiling bloody breast; + And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, + His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, + Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain + At large discourse, while here they do remain. + + [Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine] + +THESEUS I wonder if the lion be to speak. + +DEMETRIUS No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. + +Wall In this same interlude it doth befall + That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; + And such a wall, as I would have you think, + That had in it a crannied hole or chink, + Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, + Did whisper often very secretly. + This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show + That I am that same wall; the truth is so: + And this the cranny is, right and sinister, + Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. + +THESEUS Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? + +DEMETRIUS It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard + discourse, my lord. + + [Enter Pyramus] + +THESEUS Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! + +Pyramus O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! + O night, which ever art when day is not! + O night, O night! alack, alack, alack, + I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! + And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, + That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! + Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, + Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! + + [Wall holds up his fingers] + + Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! + But what see I? No Thisby do I see. + O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! + Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! + +THESEUS The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. + +Pyramus No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me' + is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to + spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will + fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. + + [Enter Thisbe] + +Thisbe O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, + For parting my fair Pyramus and me! + My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, + Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. + +Pyramus I see a voice: now will I to the chink, + To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby! + +Thisbe My love thou art, my love I think. + +Pyramus Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; + And, like Limander, am I trusty still. + +Thisbe And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. + +Pyramus Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. + +Thisbe As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. + +Pyramus O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! + +Thisbe I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. + +Pyramus Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? + +Thisbe 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. + + [Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe] + +Wall Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; + And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. + + [Exit] + +THESEUS Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. + +DEMETRIUS No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear + without warning. + +HIPPOLYTA This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. + +THESEUS The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst + are no worse, if imagination amend them. + +HIPPOLYTA It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. + +THESEUS If we imagine no worse of them than they of + themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here + come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. + + [Enter Lion and Moonshine] + +Lion You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear + The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, + May now perchance both quake and tremble here, + When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. + Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am + A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam; + For, if I should as lion come in strife + Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. + +THESEUS A very gentle beast, of a good conscience. + +DEMETRIUS The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. + +LYSANDER This lion is a very fox for his valour. + +THESEUS True; and a goose for his discretion. + +DEMETRIUS Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his + discretion; and the fox carries the goose. + +THESEUS His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; + for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: + leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. + +Moonshine This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;-- + +DEMETRIUS He should have worn the horns on his head. + +THESEUS He is no crescent, and his horns are + invisible within the circumference. + +Moonshine This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; + Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be. + +THESEUS This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man + should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the + man i' the moon? + +DEMETRIUS He dares not come there for the candle; for, you + see, it is already in snuff. + +HIPPOLYTA I am aweary of this moon: would he would change! + +THESEUS It appears, by his small light of discretion, that + he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all + reason, we must stay the time. + +LYSANDER Proceed, Moon. + +Moonshine All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the + lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this + thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. + +DEMETRIUS Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all + these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. + + [Enter Thisbe] + +Thisbe This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? + +Lion [Roaring] Oh-- + + [Thisbe runs off] + +DEMETRIUS Well roared, Lion. + +THESEUS Well run, Thisbe. + +HIPPOLYTA Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a + good grace. + + [The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit] + +THESEUS Well moused, Lion. + +LYSANDER And so the lion vanished. + +DEMETRIUS And then came Pyramus. + + [Enter Pyramus] + +Pyramus Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; + I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; + For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, + I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. + But stay, O spite! + But mark, poor knight, + What dreadful dole is here! + Eyes, do you see? + How can it be? + O dainty duck! O dear! + Thy mantle good, + What, stain'd with blood! + Approach, ye Furies fell! + O Fates, come, come, + Cut thread and thrum; + Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! + +THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would + go near to make a man look sad. + +HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. + +Pyramus O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? + Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: + Which is--no, no--which was the fairest dame + That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd + with cheer. + Come, tears, confound; + Out, sword, and wound + The pap of Pyramus; + Ay, that left pap, + Where heart doth hop: + + [Stabs himself] + + Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. + Now am I dead, + Now am I fled; + My soul is in the sky: + Tongue, lose thy light; + Moon take thy flight: + + [Exit Moonshine] + + Now die, die, die, die, die. + + [Dies] + +DEMETRIUS No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. + +LYSANDER Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. + +THESEUS With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and + prove an ass. + +HIPPOLYTA How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes + back and finds her lover? + +THESEUS She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and + her passion ends the play. + + [Re-enter Thisbe] + +HIPPOLYTA Methinks she should not use a long one for such a + Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. + +DEMETRIUS A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which + Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; + she for a woman, God bless us. + +LYSANDER She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. + +DEMETRIUS And thus she means, videlicet:-- + +Thisbe Asleep, my love? + What, dead, my dove? + O Pyramus, arise! + Speak, speak. Quite dumb? + Dead, dead? A tomb + Must cover thy sweet eyes. + These My lips, + This cherry nose, + These yellow cowslip cheeks, + Are gone, are gone: + Lovers, make moan: + His eyes were green as leeks. + O Sisters Three, + Come, come to me, + With hands as pale as milk; + Lay them in gore, + Since you have shore + With shears his thread of silk. + Tongue, not a word: + Come, trusty sword; + Come, blade, my breast imbrue: + + [Stabs herself] + + And, farewell, friends; + Thus Thisby ends: + Adieu, adieu, adieu. + + [Dies] + +THESEUS Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. + +DEMETRIUS Ay, and Wall too. + +BOTTOM [Starting up] No assure you; the wall is down that + parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the + epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two + of our company? + +THESEUS No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no + excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all + dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he + that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself + in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine + tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably + discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your + epilogue alone. + + [A dance] + + The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: + Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. + I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn + As much as we this night have overwatch'd. + This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled + The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. + A fortnight hold we this solemnity, + In nightly revels and new jollity. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter PUCK] + +PUCK Now the hungry lion roars, + And the wolf behowls the moon; + Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, + All with weary task fordone. + Now the wasted brands do glow, + Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, + Puts the wretch that lies in woe + In remembrance of a shroud. + Now it is the time of night + That the graves all gaping wide, + Every one lets forth his sprite, + In the church-way paths to glide: + And we fairies, that do run + By the triple Hecate's team, + From the presence of the sun, + Following darkness like a dream, + Now are frolic: not a mouse + Shall disturb this hallow'd house: + I am sent with broom before, + To sweep the dust behind the door. + + [Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train] + +OBERON Through the house give gathering light, + By the dead and drowsy fire: + Every elf and fairy sprite + Hop as light as bird from brier; + And this ditty, after me, + Sing, and dance it trippingly. + +TITANIA First, rehearse your song by rote + To each word a warbling note: + Hand in hand, with fairy grace, + Will we sing, and bless this place. + + [Song and dance] + +OBERON Now, until the break of day, + Through this house each fairy stray. + To the best bride-bed will we, + Which by us shall blessed be; + And the issue there create + Ever shall be fortunate. + So shall all the couples three + Ever true in loving be; + And the blots of Nature's hand + Shall not in their issue stand; + Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, + Nor mark prodigious, such as are + Despised in nativity, + Shall upon their children be. + With this field-dew consecrate, + Every fairy take his gait; + And each several chamber bless, + Through this palace, with sweet peace; + And the owner of it blest + Ever shall in safety rest. + Trip away; make no stay; + Meet me all by break of day. + + [Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train] + +PUCK If we shadows have offended, + Think but this, and all is mended, + That you have but slumber'd here + While these visions did appear. + And this weak and idle theme, + No more yielding but a dream, + Gentles, do not reprehend: + if you pardon, we will mend: + And, as I am an honest Puck, + If we have unearned luck + Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, + We will make amends ere long; + Else the Puck a liar call; + So, good night unto you all. + Give me your hands, if we be friends, + And Robin shall restore amends. + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DON PEDRO prince of Arragon. + +DON JOHN his bastard brother. + +CLAUDIO a young lord of Florence. + +BENEDICK a young lord of Padua. + +LEONATO governor of Messina. + +ANTONIO his brother. + +BALTHASAR attendant on Don Pedro. + + +CONRADE | + | followers of Don John. +BORACHIO | + + +FRIAR FRANCIS: + +DOGBERRY a constable. + +VERGES a headborough. + A Sexton. + A Boy. + +HERO daughter to Leonato. + +BEATRICE niece to Leonato. + + +MARGARET | + | gentlewomen attending on Hero. +URSULA | + + + Messengers, Watch, Attendants, &c. (Lord:) + (Messenger:) + (Watchman:) + (First Watchman:) + (Second Watchman:) + + +SCENE Messina. + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Before LEONATO'S house. + + + [Enter LEONATO, HERO, and BEATRICE, with a + Messenger] + +LEONATO I learn in this letter that Don Peter of Arragon + comes this night to Messina. + +Messenger He is very near by this: he was not three leagues off + when I left him. + +LEONATO How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? + +Messenger But few of any sort, and none of name. + +LEONATO A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings + home full numbers. I find here that Don Peter hath + bestowed much honour on a young Florentine called Claudio. + +Messenger Much deserved on his part and equally remembered by + Don Pedro: he hath borne himself beyond the + promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, + the feats of a lion: he hath indeed better + bettered expectation than you must expect of me to + tell you how. + +LEONATO He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much + glad of it. + +Messenger I have already delivered him letters, and there + appears much joy in him; even so much that joy could + not show itself modest enough without a badge of + bitterness. + +LEONATO Did he break out into tears? + +Messenger In great measure. + +LEONATO A kind overflow of kindness: there are no faces + truer than those that are so washed. How much + better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping! + +BEATRICE I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the + wars or no? + +Messenger I know none of that name, lady: there was none such + in the army of any sort. + +LEONATO What is he that you ask for, niece? + +HERO My cousin means Signior Benedick of Padua. + +Messenger O, he's returned; and as pleasant as ever he was. + +BEATRICE He set up his bills here in Messina and challenged + Cupid at the flight; and my uncle's fool, reading + the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged + him at the bird-bolt. I pray you, how many hath he + killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath + he killed? for indeed I promised to eat all of his killing. + +LEONATO Faith, niece, you tax Signior Benedick too much; + but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. + +Messenger He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. + +BEATRICE You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: + he is a very valiant trencherman; he hath an + excellent stomach. + +Messenger And a good soldier too, lady. + +BEATRICE And a good soldier to a lady: but what is he to a lord? + +Messenger A lord to a lord, a man to a man; stuffed with all + honourable virtues. + +BEATRICE It is so, indeed; he is no less than a stuffed man: + but for the stuffing,--well, we are all mortal. + +LEONATO You must not, sir, mistake my niece. There is a + kind of merry war betwixt Signior Benedick and her: + they never meet but there's a skirmish of wit + between them. + +BEATRICE Alas! he gets nothing by that. In our last + conflict four of his five wits went halting off, and + now is the whole man governed with one: so that if + he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him + bear it for a difference between himself and his + horse; for it is all the wealth that he hath left, + to be known a reasonable creature. Who is his + companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. + +Messenger Is't possible? + +BEATRICE Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as + the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the + next block. + +Messenger I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. + +BEATRICE No; an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray + you, who is his companion? Is there no young + squarer now that will make a voyage with him to the devil? + +Messenger He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. + +BEATRICE O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease: he + is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker + runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! if + he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a + thousand pound ere a' be cured. + +Messenger I will hold friends with you, lady. + +BEATRICE Do, good friend. + +LEONATO You will never run mad, niece. + +BEATRICE No, not till a hot January. + +Messenger Don Pedro is approached. + + [Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, + and BALTHASAR] + +DON PEDRO Good Signior Leonato, you are come to meet your + trouble: the fashion of the world is to avoid + cost, and you encounter it. + +LEONATO Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of + your grace: for trouble being gone, comfort should + remain; but when you depart from me, sorrow abides + and happiness takes his leave. + +DON PEDRO You embrace your charge too willingly. I think this + is your daughter. + +LEONATO Her mother hath many times told me so. + +BENEDICK Were you in doubt, sir, that you asked her? + +LEONATO Signior Benedick, no; for then were you a child. + +DON PEDRO You have it full, Benedick: we may guess by this + what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady fathers + herself. Be happy, lady; for you are like an + honourable father. + +BENEDICK If Signior Leonato be her father, she would not + have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, as + like him as she is. + +BEATRICE I wonder that you will still be talking, Signior + Benedick: nobody marks you. + +BENEDICK What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? + +BEATRICE Is it possible disdain should die while she hath + such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? + Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come + in her presence. + +BENEDICK Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I + am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I + would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard + heart; for, truly, I love none. + +BEATRICE A dear happiness to women: they would else have + been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God + and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I + had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man + swear he loves me. + +BENEDICK God keep your ladyship still in that mind! so some + gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate + scratched face. + +BEATRICE Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such + a face as yours were. + +BENEDICK Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. + +BEATRICE A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours. + +BENEDICK I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and + so good a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's + name; I have done. + +BEATRICE You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old. + +DON PEDRO That is the sum of all, Leonato. Signior Claudio + and Signior Benedick, my dear friend Leonato hath + invited you all. I tell him we shall stay here at + the least a month; and he heartily prays some + occasion may detain us longer. I dare swear he is no + hypocrite, but prays from his heart. + +LEONATO If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn. + + [To DON JOHN] + + Let me bid you welcome, my lord: being reconciled to + the prince your brother, I owe you all duty. + +DON JOHN I thank you: I am not of many words, but I thank + you. + +LEONATO Please it your grace lead on? + +DON PEDRO Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. + + [Exeunt all except BENEDICK and CLAUDIO] + +CLAUDIO Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of Signior Leonato? + +BENEDICK I noted her not; but I looked on her. + +CLAUDIO Is she not a modest young lady? + +BENEDICK Do you question me, as an honest man should do, for + my simple true judgment; or would you have me speak + after my custom, as being a professed tyrant to their sex? + +CLAUDIO No; I pray thee speak in sober judgment. + +BENEDICK Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high + praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little + for a great praise: only this commendation I can + afford her, that were she other than she is, she + were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I + do not like her. + +CLAUDIO Thou thinkest I am in sport: I pray thee tell me + truly how thou likest her. + +BENEDICK Would you buy her, that you inquire after her? + +CLAUDIO Can the world buy such a jewel? + +BENEDICK Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak you this + with a sad brow? or do you play the flouting Jack, + to tell us Cupid is a good hare-finder and Vulcan a + rare carpenter? Come, in what key shall a man take + you, to go in the song? + +CLAUDIO In mine eye she is the sweetest lady that ever I + looked on. + +BENEDICK I can see yet without spectacles and I see no such + matter: there's her cousin, an she were not + possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty + as the first of May doth the last of December. But I + hope you have no intent to turn husband, have you? + +CLAUDIO I would scarce trust myself, though I had sworn the + contrary, if Hero would be my wife. + +BENEDICK Is't come to this? In faith, hath not the world + one man but he will wear his cap with suspicion? + Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again? + Go to, i' faith; an thou wilt needs thrust thy neck + into a yoke, wear the print of it and sigh away + Sundays. Look Don Pedro is returned to seek you. + + [Re-enter DON PEDRO] + +DON PEDRO What secret hath held you here, that you followed + not to Leonato's? + +BENEDICK I would your grace would constrain me to tell. + +DON PEDRO I charge thee on thy allegiance. + +BENEDICK You hear, Count Claudio: I can be secret as a dumb + man; I would have you think so; but, on my + allegiance, mark you this, on my allegiance. He is + in love. With who? now that is your grace's part. + Mark how short his answer is;--With Hero, Leonato's + short daughter. + +CLAUDIO If this were so, so were it uttered. + +BENEDICK Like the old tale, my lord: 'it is not so, nor + 'twas not so, but, indeed, God forbid it should be + so.' + +CLAUDIO If my passion change not shortly, God forbid it + should be otherwise. + +DON PEDRO Amen, if you love her; for the lady is very well worthy. + +CLAUDIO You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. + +DON PEDRO By my troth, I speak my thought. + +CLAUDIO And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. + +BENEDICK And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, I spoke mine. + +CLAUDIO That I love her, I feel. + +DON PEDRO That she is worthy, I know. + +BENEDICK That I neither feel how she should be loved nor + know how she should be worthy, is the opinion that + fire cannot melt out of me: I will die in it at the stake. + +DON PEDRO Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the despite + of beauty. + +CLAUDIO And never could maintain his part but in the force + of his will. + +BENEDICK That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she + brought me up, I likewise give her most humble + thanks: but that I will have a recheat winded in my + forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, + all women shall pardon me. Because I will not do + them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the + right to trust none; and the fine is, for the which + I may go the finer, I will live a bachelor. + +DON PEDRO I shall see thee, ere I die, look pale with love. + +BENEDICK With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, my lord, + not with love: prove that ever I lose more blood + with love than I will get again with drinking, pick + out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's pen and hang me + up at the door of a brothel-house for the sign of + blind Cupid. + +DON PEDRO Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, thou + wilt prove a notable argument. + +BENEDICK If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat and shoot + at me; and he that hits me, let him be clapped on + the shoulder, and called Adam. + +DON PEDRO Well, as time shall try: 'In time the savage bull + doth bear the yoke.' + +BENEDICK The savage bull may; but if ever the sensible + Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull's horns and set + them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted, + and in such great letters as they write 'Here is + good horse to hire,' let them signify under my sign + 'Here you may see Benedick the married man.' + +CLAUDIO If this should ever happen, thou wouldst be horn-mad. + +DON PEDRO Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his quiver in + Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. + +BENEDICK I look for an earthquake too, then. + +DON PEDRO Well, you temporize with the hours. In the + meantime, good Signior Benedick, repair to + Leonato's: commend me to him and tell him I will + not fail him at supper; for indeed he hath made + great preparation. + +BENEDICK I have almost matter enough in me for such an + embassage; and so I commit you-- + +CLAUDIO To the tuition of God: From my house, if I had it,-- + +DON PEDRO The sixth of July: Your loving friend, Benedick. + +BENEDICK Nay, mock not, mock not. The body of your + discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, and + the guards are but slightly basted on neither: ere + you flout old ends any further, examine your + conscience: and so I leave you. + + [Exit] + +CLAUDIO My liege, your highness now may do me good. + +DON PEDRO My love is thine to teach: teach it but how, + And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn + Any hard lesson that may do thee good. + +CLAUDIO Hath Leonato any son, my lord? + +DON PEDRO No child but Hero; she's his only heir. + Dost thou affect her, Claudio? + +CLAUDIO O, my lord, + When you went onward on this ended action, + I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, + That liked, but had a rougher task in hand + Than to drive liking to the name of love: + But now I am return'd and that war-thoughts + Have left their places vacant, in their rooms + Come thronging soft and delicate desires, + All prompting me how fair young Hero is, + Saying, I liked her ere I went to wars. + +DON PEDRO Thou wilt be like a lover presently + And tire the hearer with a book of words. + If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it, + And I will break with her and with her father, + And thou shalt have her. Was't not to this end + That thou began'st to twist so fine a story? + +CLAUDIO How sweetly you do minister to love, + That know love's grief by his complexion! + But lest my liking might too sudden seem, + I would have salved it with a longer treatise. + +DON PEDRO What need the bridge much broader than the flood? + The fairest grant is the necessity. + Look, what will serve is fit: 'tis once, thou lovest, + And I will fit thee with the remedy. + I know we shall have revelling to-night: + I will assume thy part in some disguise + And tell fair Hero I am Claudio, + And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart + And take her hearing prisoner with the force + And strong encounter of my amorous tale: + Then after to her father will I break; + And the conclusion is, she shall be thine. + In practise let us put it presently. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A room in LEONATO's house. + + + [Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, meeting] + +LEONATO How now, brother! Where is my cousin, your son? + hath he provided this music? + +ANTONIO He is very busy about it. But, brother, I can tell + you strange news that you yet dreamt not of. + +LEONATO Are they good? + +ANTONIO As the event stamps them: but they have a good + cover; they show well outward. The prince and Count + Claudio, walking in a thick-pleached alley in mine + orchard, were thus much overheard by a man of mine: + the prince discovered to Claudio that he loved my + niece your daughter and meant to acknowledge it + this night in a dance: and if he found her + accordant, he meant to take the present time by the + top and instantly break with you of it. + +LEONATO Hath the fellow any wit that told you this? + +ANTONIO A good sharp fellow: I will send for him; and + question him yourself. + +LEONATO No, no; we will hold it as a dream till it appear + itself: but I will acquaint my daughter withal, + that she may be the better prepared for an answer, + if peradventure this be true. Go you and tell her of it. + + [Enter Attendants] + + Cousins, you know what you have to do. O, I cry you + mercy, friend; go you with me, and I will use your + skill. Good cousin, have a care this busy time. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Enter DON JOHN and CONRADE] + +CONRADE What the good-year, my lord! why are you thus out + of measure sad? + +DON JOHN There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; + therefore the sadness is without limit. + +CONRADE You should hear reason. + +DON JOHN And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it? + +CONRADE If not a present remedy, at least a patient + sufferance. + +DON JOHN I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayest thou art, + born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral + medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide + what I am: I must be sad when I have cause and smile + at no man's jests, eat when I have stomach and wait + for no man's leisure, sleep when I am drowsy and + tend on no man's business, laugh when I am merry and + claw no man in his humour. + +CONRADE Yea, but you must not make the full show of this + till you may do it without controlment. You have of + late stood out against your brother, and he hath + ta'en you newly into his grace; where it is + impossible you should take true root but by the + fair weather that you make yourself: it is needful + that you frame the season for your own harvest. + +DON JOHN I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a rose in + his grace, and it better fits my blood to be + disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob + love from any: in this, though I cannot be said to + be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied + but I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with + a muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I + have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my + mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do + my liking: in the meantime let me be that I am and + seek not to alter me. + +CONRADE Can you make no use of your discontent? + +DON JOHN I make all use of it, for I use it only. + Who comes here? + + [Enter BORACHIO] + + What news, Borachio? + +BORACHIO I came yonder from a great supper: the prince your + brother is royally entertained by Leonato: and I + can give you intelligence of an intended marriage. + +DON JOHN Will it serve for any model to build mischief on? + What is he for a fool that betroths himself to + unquietness? + +BORACHIO Marry, it is your brother's right hand. + +DON JOHN Who? the most exquisite Claudio? + +BORACHIO Even he. + +DON JOHN A proper squire! And who, and who? which way looks + he? + +BORACHIO Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of Leonato. + +DON JOHN A very forward March-chick! How came you to this? + +BORACHIO Being entertained for a perfumer, as I was smoking a + musty room, comes me the prince and Claudio, hand + in hand in sad conference: I whipt me behind the + arras; and there heard it agreed upon that the + prince should woo Hero for himself, and having + obtained her, give her to Count Claudio. + +DON JOHN Come, come, let us thither: this may prove food to + my displeasure. That young start-up hath all the + glory of my overthrow: if I can cross him any way, I + bless myself every way. You are both sure, and will assist me? + +CONRADE To the death, my lord. + +DON JOHN Let us to the great supper: their cheer is the + greater that I am subdued. Would the cook were of + my mind! Shall we go prove what's to be done? + +BORACHIO We'll wait upon your lordship. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A hall in LEONATO'S house. + + + [Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, HERO, BEATRICE, and others] + + +LEONATO Was not Count John here at supper? + +ANTONIO I saw him not. + +BEATRICE How tartly that gentleman looks! I never can see + him but I am heart-burned an hour after. + +HERO He is of a very melancholy disposition. + +BEATRICE He were an excellent man that were made just in the + midway between him and Benedick: the one is too + like an image and says nothing, and the other too + like my lady's eldest son, evermore tattling. + +LEONATO Then half Signior Benedick's tongue in Count John's + mouth, and half Count John's melancholy in Signior + Benedick's face,-- + +BEATRICE With a good leg and a good foot, uncle, and money + enough in his purse, such a man would win any woman + in the world, if a' could get her good-will. + +LEONATO By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee a + husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. + +ANTONIO In faith, she's too curst. + +BEATRICE Too curst is more than curst: I shall lessen God's + sending that way; for it is said, 'God sends a curst + cow short horns;' but to a cow too curst he sends none. + +LEONATO So, by being too curst, God will send you no horns. + +BEATRICE Just, if he send me no husband; for the which + blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and + evening. Lord, I could not endure a husband with a + beard on his face: I had rather lie in the woollen. + +LEONATO You may light on a husband that hath no beard. + +BEATRICE What should I do with him? dress him in my apparel + and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? He that hath a + beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no + beard is less than a man: and he that is more than + a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a + man, I am not for him: therefore, I will even take + sixpence in earnest of the bear-ward, and lead his + apes into hell. + +LEONATO Well, then, go you into hell? + +BEATRICE No, but to the gate; and there will the devil meet + me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his head, and + say 'Get you to heaven, Beatrice, get you to + heaven; here's no place for you maids:' so deliver + I up my apes, and away to Saint Peter for the + heavens; he shows me where the bachelors sit, and + there live we as merry as the day is long. + +ANTONIO [To HERO] Well, niece, I trust you will be ruled + by your father. + +BEATRICE Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy + and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all + that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else + make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please + me.' + +LEONATO Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband. + +BEATRICE Not till God make men of some other metal than + earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be + overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make + an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? + No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; + and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. + +LEONATO Daughter, remember what I told you: if the prince + do solicit you in that kind, you know your answer. + +BEATRICE The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be + not wooed in good time: if the prince be too + important, tell him there is measure in every thing + and so dance out the answer. For, hear me, Hero: + wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, + a measure, and a cinque pace: the first suit is hot + and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as + fantastical; the wedding, mannerly-modest, as a + measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes + repentance and, with his bad legs, falls into the + cinque pace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. + +LEONATO Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. + +BEATRICE I have a good eye, uncle; I can see a church by daylight. + +LEONATO The revellers are entering, brother: make good room. + + [All put on their masks] + + [Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, BALTHASAR, + DON JOHN, BORACHIO, MARGARET, URSULA and others, masked] + +DON PEDRO Lady, will you walk about with your friend? + +HERO So you walk softly and look sweetly and say nothing, + I am yours for the walk; and especially when I walk away. + +DON PEDRO With me in your company? + +HERO I may say so, when I please. + +DON PEDRO And when please you to say so? + +HERO When I like your favour; for God defend the lute + should be like the case! + +DON PEDRO My visor is Philemon's roof; within the house is Jove. + +HERO Why, then, your visor should be thatched. + +DON PEDRO Speak low, if you speak love. + + [Drawing her aside] + +BALTHASAR Well, I would you did like me. + +MARGARET So would not I, for your own sake; for I have many + ill-qualities. + +BALTHASAR Which is one? + +MARGARET I say my prayers aloud. + +BALTHASAR I love you the better: the hearers may cry, Amen. + +MARGARET God match me with a good dancer! + +BALTHASAR Amen. + +MARGARET And God keep him out of my sight when the dance is + done! Answer, clerk. + +BALTHASAR No more words: the clerk is answered. + +URSULA I know you well enough; you are Signior Antonio. + +ANTONIO At a word, I am not. + +URSULA I know you by the waggling of your head. + +ANTONIO To tell you true, I counterfeit him. + +URSULA You could never do him so ill-well, unless you were + the very man. Here's his dry hand up and down: you + are he, you are he. + +ANTONIO At a word, I am not. + +URSULA Come, come, do you think I do not know you by your + excellent wit? can virtue hide itself? Go to, + mum, you are he: graces will appear, and there's an + end. + +BEATRICE Will you not tell me who told you so? + +BENEDICK No, you shall pardon me. + +BEATRICE Nor will you not tell me who you are? + +BENEDICK Not now. + +BEATRICE That I was disdainful, and that I had my good wit + out of the 'Hundred Merry Tales:'--well this was + Signior Benedick that said so. + +BENEDICK What's he? + +BEATRICE I am sure you know him well enough. + +BENEDICK Not I, believe me. + +BEATRICE Did he never make you laugh? + +BENEDICK I pray you, what is he? + +BEATRICE Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; + only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: + none but libertines delight in him; and the + commendation is not in his wit, but in his villany; + for he both pleases men and angers them, and then + they laugh at him and beat him. I am sure he is in + the fleet: I would he had boarded me. + +BENEDICK When I know the gentleman, I'll tell him what you say. + +BEATRICE Do, do: he'll but break a comparison or two on me; + which, peradventure not marked or not laughed at, + strikes him into melancholy; and then there's a + partridge wing saved, for the fool will eat no + supper that night. + + [Music] + + We must follow the leaders. + +BENEDICK In every good thing. + +BEATRICE Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave them at + the next turning. + + [Dance. Then exeunt all except DON JOHN, BORACHIO, + and CLAUDIO] + +DON JOHN Sure my brother is amorous on Hero and hath + withdrawn her father to break with him about it. + The ladies follow her and but one visor remains. + +BORACHIO And that is Claudio: I know him by his bearing. + +DON JOHN Are not you Signior Benedick? + +CLAUDIO You know me well; I am he. + +DON JOHN Signior, you are very near my brother in his love: + he is enamoured on Hero; I pray you, dissuade him + from her: she is no equal for his birth: you may + do the part of an honest man in it. + +CLAUDIO How know you he loves her? + +DON JOHN I heard him swear his affection. + +BORACHIO So did I too; and he swore he would marry her to-night. + +DON JOHN Come, let us to the banquet. + + [Exeunt DON JOHN and BORACHIO] + +CLAUDIO Thus answer I in the name of Benedick, + But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. + 'Tis certain so; the prince wooes for himself. + Friendship is constant in all other things + Save in the office and affairs of love: + Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; + Let every eye negotiate for itself + And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch + Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. + This is an accident of hourly proof, + Which I mistrusted not. Farewell, therefore, Hero! + + [Re-enter BENEDICK] + +BENEDICK Count Claudio? + +CLAUDIO Yea, the same. + +BENEDICK Come, will you go with me? + +CLAUDIO Whither? + +BENEDICK Even to the next willow, about your own business, + county. What fashion will you wear the garland of? + about your neck, like an usurer's chain? or under + your arm, like a lieutenant's scarf? You must wear + it one way, for the prince hath got your Hero. + +CLAUDIO I wish him joy of her. + +BENEDICK Why, that's spoken like an honest drovier: so they + sell bullocks. But did you think the prince would + have served you thus? + +CLAUDIO I pray you, leave me. + +BENEDICK Ho! now you strike like the blind man: 'twas the + boy that stole your meat, and you'll beat the post. + +CLAUDIO If it will not be, I'll leave you. + + [Exit] + +BENEDICK Alas, poor hurt fowl! now will he creep into sedges. + But that my Lady Beatrice should know me, and not + know me! The prince's fool! Ha? It may be I go + under that title because I am merry. Yea, but so I + am apt to do myself wrong; I am not so reputed: it + is the base, though bitter, disposition of Beatrice + that puts the world into her person and so gives me + out. Well, I'll be revenged as I may. + + [Re-enter DON PEDRO] + +DON PEDRO Now, signior, where's the count? did you see him? + +BENEDICK Troth, my lord, I have played the part of Lady Fame. + I found him here as melancholy as a lodge in a + warren: I told him, and I think I told him true, + that your grace had got the good will of this young + lady; and I offered him my company to a willow-tree, + either to make him a garland, as being forsaken, or + to bind him up a rod, as being worthy to be whipped. + +DON PEDRO To be whipped! What's his fault? + +BENEDICK The flat transgression of a schoolboy, who, being + overjoyed with finding a birds' nest, shows it his + companion, and he steals it. + +DON PEDRO Wilt thou make a trust a transgression? The + transgression is in the stealer. + +BENEDICK Yet it had not been amiss the rod had been made, + and the garland too; for the garland he might have + worn himself, and the rod he might have bestowed on + you, who, as I take it, have stolen his birds' nest. + +DON PEDRO I will but teach them to sing, and restore them to + the owner. + +BENEDICK If their singing answer your saying, by my faith, + you say honestly. + +DON PEDRO The Lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you: the + gentleman that danced with her told her she is much + wronged by you. + +BENEDICK O, she misused me past the endurance of a block! + an oak but with one green leaf on it would have + answered her; my very visor began to assume life and + scold with her. She told me, not thinking I had been + myself, that I was the prince's jester, that I was + duller than a great thaw; huddling jest upon jest + with such impossible conveyance upon me that I stood + like a man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at + me. She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: + if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, + there were no living near her; she would infect to + the north star. I would not marry her, though she + were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before + he transgressed: she would have made Hercules have + turned spit, yea, and have cleft his club to make + the fire too. Come, talk not of her: you shall find + her the infernal Ate in good apparel. I would to God + some scholar would conjure her; for certainly, while + she is here, a man may live as quiet in hell as in a + sanctuary; and people sin upon purpose, because they + would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror + and perturbation follows her. + +DON PEDRO Look, here she comes. + + [Enter CLAUDIO, BEATRICE, HERO, and LEONATO] + +BENEDICK Will your grace command me any service to the + world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now + to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on; + I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the + furthest inch of Asia, bring you the length of + Prester John's foot, fetch you a hair off the great + Cham's beard, do you any embassage to the Pigmies, + rather than hold three words' conference with this + harpy. You have no employment for me? + +DON PEDRO None, but to desire your good company. + +BENEDICK O God, sir, here's a dish I love not: I cannot + endure my Lady Tongue. + + [Exit] + +DON PEDRO Come, lady, come; you have lost the heart of + Signior Benedick. + +BEATRICE Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile; and I gave + him use for it, a double heart for his single one: + marry, once before he won it of me with false dice, + therefore your grace may well say I have lost it. + +DON PEDRO You have put him down, lady, you have put him down. + +BEATRICE So I would not he should do me, my lord, lest I + should prove the mother of fools. I have brought + Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek. + +DON PEDRO Why, how now, count! wherefore are you sad? + +CLAUDIO Not sad, my lord. + +DON PEDRO How then? sick? + +CLAUDIO Neither, my lord. + +BEATRICE The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor + well; but civil count, civil as an orange, and + something of that jealous complexion. + +DON PEDRO I' faith, lady, I think your blazon to be true; + though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit is + false. Here, Claudio, I have wooed in thy name, and + fair Hero is won: I have broke with her father, + and his good will obtained: name the day of + marriage, and God give thee joy! + +LEONATO Count, take of me my daughter, and with her my + fortunes: his grace hath made the match, and an + grace say Amen to it. + +BEATRICE Speak, count, 'tis your cue. + +CLAUDIO Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were + but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as + you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for + you and dote upon the exchange. + +BEATRICE Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, stop his mouth + with a kiss, and let not him speak neither. + +DON PEDRO In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. + +BEATRICE Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on + the windy side of care. My cousin tells him in his + ear that he is in her heart. + +CLAUDIO And so she doth, cousin. + +BEATRICE Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the + world but I, and I am sunburnt; I may sit in a + corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband! + +DON PEDRO Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. + +BEATRICE I would rather have one of your father's getting. + Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you? Your + father got excellent husbands, if a maid could come by them. + +DON PEDRO Will you have me, lady? + +BEATRICE No, my lord, unless I might have another for + working-days: your grace is too costly to wear + every day. But, I beseech your grace, pardon me: I + was born to speak all mirth and no matter. + +DON PEDRO Your silence most offends me, and to be merry best + becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in + a merry hour. + +BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there + was a star danced, and under that was I born. + Cousins, God give you joy! + +LEONATO Niece, will you look to those things I told you of? + +BEATRICE I cry you mercy, uncle. By your grace's pardon. + + [Exit] + +DON PEDRO By my troth, a pleasant-spirited lady. + +LEONATO There's little of the melancholy element in her, my + lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps, and + not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, + she hath often dreamed of unhappiness and waked + herself with laughing. + +DON PEDRO She cannot endure to hear tell of a husband. + +LEONATO O, by no means: she mocks all her wooers out of suit. + +DON PEDRO She were an excellent wife for Benedict. + +LEONATO O Lord, my lord, if they were but a week married, + they would talk themselves mad. + +DON PEDRO County Claudio, when mean you to go to church? + +CLAUDIO To-morrow, my lord: time goes on crutches till love + have all his rites. + +LEONATO Not till Monday, my dear son, which is hence a just + seven-night; and a time too brief, too, to have all + things answer my mind. + +DON PEDRO Come, you shake the head at so long a breathing: + but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time shall not go + dully by us. I will in the interim undertake one of + Hercules' labours; which is, to bring Signior + Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of + affection the one with the other. I would fain have + it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if + you three will but minister such assistance as I + shall give you direction. + +LEONATO My lord, I am for you, though it cost me ten + nights' watchings. + +CLAUDIO And I, my lord. + +DON PEDRO And you too, gentle Hero? + +HERO I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my + cousin to a good husband. + +DON PEDRO And Benedick is not the unhopefullest husband that + I know. Thus far can I praise him; he is of a noble + strain, of approved valour and confirmed honesty. I + will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she + shall fall in love with Benedick; and I, with your + two helps, will so practise on Benedick that, in + despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he + shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, + Cupid is no longer an archer: his glory shall be + ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with me, + and I will tell you my drift. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter DON JOHN and BORACHIO] + +DON JOHN It is so; the Count Claudio shall marry the + daughter of Leonato. + +BORACHIO Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. + +DON JOHN Any bar, any cross, any impediment will be + medicinable to me: I am sick in displeasure to him, + and whatsoever comes athwart his affection ranges + evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this marriage? + +BORACHIO Not honestly, my lord; but so covertly that no + dishonesty shall appear in me. + +DON JOHN Show me briefly how. + +BORACHIO I think I told your lordship a year since, how much + I am in the favour of Margaret, the waiting + gentlewoman to Hero. + +DON JOHN I remember. + +BORACHIO I can, at any unseasonable instant of the night, + appoint her to look out at her lady's chamber window. + +DON JOHN What life is in that, to be the death of this marriage? + +BORACHIO The poison of that lies in you to temper. Go you to + the prince your brother; spare not to tell him that + he hath wronged his honour in marrying the renowned + Claudio--whose estimation do you mightily hold + up--to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. + +DON JOHN What proof shall I make of that? + +BORACHIO Proof enough to misuse the prince, to vex Claudio, + to undo Hero and kill Leonato. Look you for any + other issue? + +DON JOHN Only to despite them, I will endeavour any thing. + +BORACHIO Go, then; find me a meet hour to draw Don Pedro and + the Count Claudio alone: tell them that you know + that Hero loves me; intend a kind of zeal both to the + prince and Claudio, as,--in love of your brother's + honour, who hath made this match, and his friend's + reputation, who is thus like to be cozened with the + semblance of a maid,--that you have discovered + thus. They will scarcely believe this without trial: + offer them instances; which shall bear no less + likelihood than to see me at her chamber-window, + hear me call Margaret Hero, hear Margaret term me + Claudio; and bring them to see this the very night + before the intended wedding,--for in the meantime I + will so fashion the matter that Hero shall be + absent,--and there shall appear such seeming truth + of Hero's disloyalty that jealousy shall be called + assurance and all the preparation overthrown. + +DON JOHN Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I will put + it in practise. Be cunning in the working this, and + thy fee is a thousand ducats. + +BORACHIO Be you constant in the accusation, and my cunning + shall not shame me. + +DON JOHN I will presently go learn their day of marriage. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III LEONATO'S orchard. + + + [Enter BENEDICK] + +BENEDICK Boy! + + [Enter Boy] + +Boy Signior? + +BENEDICK In my chamber-window lies a book: bring it hither + to me in the orchard. + +Boy I am here already, sir. + +BENEDICK I know that; but I would have thee hence, and here again. + + [Exit Boy] + + I do much wonder that one man, seeing how much + another man is a fool when he dedicates his + behaviors to love, will, after he hath laughed at + such shallow follies in others, become the argument + of his own scorn by failing in love: and such a man + is Claudio. I have known when there was no music + with him but the drum and the fife; and now had he + rather hear the tabour and the pipe: I have known + when he would have walked ten mile a-foot to see a + good armour; and now will he lie ten nights awake, + carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to + speak plain and to the purpose, like an honest man + and a soldier; and now is he turned orthography; his + words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many + strange dishes. May I be so converted and see with + these eyes? I cannot tell; I think not: I will not + be sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; but + I'll take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster + of me, he shall never make me such a fool. One woman + is fair, yet I am well; another is wise, yet I am + well; another virtuous, yet I am well; but till all + graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in + my grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain; wise, + or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen her; + fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or come not + near me; noble, or not I for an angel; of good + discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair shall + be of what colour it please God. Ha! the prince and + Monsieur Love! I will hide me in the arbour. + + [Withdraws] + + [Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO] + +DON PEDRO Come, shall we hear this music? + +CLAUDIO Yea, my good lord. How still the evening is, + As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! + +DON PEDRO See you where Benedick hath hid himself? + +CLAUDIO O, very well, my lord: the music ended, + We'll fit the kid-fox with a pennyworth. + + [Enter BALTHASAR with Music] + +DON PEDRO Come, Balthasar, we'll hear that song again. + +BALTHASAR O, good my lord, tax not so bad a voice + To slander music any more than once. + +DON PEDRO It is the witness still of excellency + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. + +BALTHASAR Because you talk of wooing, I will sing; + Since many a wooer doth commence his suit + To her he thinks not worthy, yet he wooes, + Yet will he swear he loves. + +DON PEDRO Now, pray thee, come; + Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument, + Do it in notes. + +BALTHASAR Note this before my notes; + There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting. + +DON PEDRO Why, these are very crotchets that he speaks; + Note, notes, forsooth, and nothing. + [Air] + +BENEDICK Now, divine air! now is his soul ravished! Is it + not strange that sheeps' guts should hale souls out + of men's bodies? Well, a horn for my money, when + all's done. + + [The Song] + +BALTHASAR Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, + Men were deceivers ever, + One foot in sea and one on shore, + To one thing constant never: + Then sigh not so, but let them go, + And be you blithe and bonny, + Converting all your sounds of woe + Into Hey nonny, nonny. + + Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, + Of dumps so dull and heavy; + The fraud of men was ever so, + Since summer first was leafy: + Then sigh not so, &c. + +DON PEDRO By my troth, a good song. + +BALTHASAR And an ill singer, my lord. + +DON PEDRO Ha, no, no, faith; thou singest well enough for a shift. + +BENEDICK An he had been a dog that should have howled thus, + they would have hanged him: and I pray God his bad + voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the + night-raven, come what plague could have come after + it. + +DON PEDRO Yea, marry, dost thou hear, Balthasar? I pray thee, + get us some excellent music; for to-morrow night we + would have it at the Lady Hero's chamber-window. + +BALTHASAR The best I can, my lord. + +DON PEDRO Do so: farewell. + + [Exit BALTHASAR] + + Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me of + to-day, that your niece Beatrice was in love with + Signior Benedick? + +CLAUDIO O, ay: stalk on. stalk on; the fowl sits. I did + never think that lady would have loved any man. + +LEONATO No, nor I neither; but most wonderful that she + should so dote on Signior Benedick, whom she hath in + all outward behaviors seemed ever to abhor. + +BENEDICK Is't possible? Sits the wind in that corner? + +LEONATO By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to think + of it but that she loves him with an enraged + affection: it is past the infinite of thought. + +DON PEDRO May be she doth but counterfeit. + +CLAUDIO Faith, like enough. + +LEONATO O God, counterfeit! There was never counterfeit of + passion came so near the life of passion as she + discovers it. + +DON PEDRO Why, what effects of passion shows she? + +CLAUDIO Bait the hook well; this fish will bite. + +LEONATO What effects, my lord? She will sit you, you heard + my daughter tell you how. + +CLAUDIO She did, indeed. + +DON PEDRO How, how, pray you? You amaze me: I would have I + thought her spirit had been invincible against all + assaults of affection. + +LEONATO I would have sworn it had, my lord; especially + against Benedick. + +BENEDICK I should think this a gull, but that the + white-bearded fellow speaks it: knavery cannot, + sure, hide himself in such reverence. + +CLAUDIO He hath ta'en the infection: hold it up. + +DON PEDRO Hath she made her affection known to Benedick? + +LEONATO No; and swears she never will: that's her torment. + +CLAUDIO 'Tis true, indeed; so your daughter says: 'Shall + I,' says she, 'that have so oft encountered him + with scorn, write to him that I love him?' + +LEONATO This says she now when she is beginning to write to + him; for she'll be up twenty times a night, and + there will she sit in her smock till she have writ a + sheet of paper: my daughter tells us all. + +CLAUDIO Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I remember a + pretty jest your daughter told us of. + +LEONATO O, when she had writ it and was reading it over, she + found Benedick and Beatrice between the sheet? + +CLAUDIO That. + +LEONATO O, she tore the letter into a thousand halfpence; + railed at herself, that she should be so immodest + to write to one that she knew would flout her; 'I + measure him,' says she, 'by my own spirit; for I + should flout him, if he writ to me; yea, though I + love him, I should.' + +CLAUDIO Then down upon her knees she falls, weeps, sobs, + beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, curses; 'O + sweet Benedick! God give me patience!' + +LEONATO She doth indeed; my daughter says so: and the + ecstasy hath so much overborne her that my daughter + is sometime afeared she will do a desperate outrage + to herself: it is very true. + +DON PEDRO It were good that Benedick knew of it by some + other, if she will not discover it. + +CLAUDIO To what end? He would make but a sport of it and + torment the poor lady worse. + +DON PEDRO An he should, it were an alms to hang him. She's an + excellent sweet lady; and, out of all suspicion, + she is virtuous. + +CLAUDIO And she is exceeding wise. + +DON PEDRO In every thing but in loving Benedick. + +LEONATO O, my lord, wisdom and blood combating in so tender + a body, we have ten proofs to one that blood hath + the victory. I am sorry for her, as I have just + cause, being her uncle and her guardian. + +DON PEDRO I would she had bestowed this dotage on me: I would + have daffed all other respects and made her half + myself. I pray you, tell Benedick of it, and hear + what a' will say. + +LEONATO Were it good, think you? + +CLAUDIO Hero thinks surely she will die; for she says she + will die, if he love her not, and she will die, ere + she make her love known, and she will die, if he woo + her, rather than she will bate one breath of her + accustomed crossness. + +DON PEDRO She doth well: if she should make tender of her + love, 'tis very possible he'll scorn it; for the + man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. + +CLAUDIO He is a very proper man. + +DON PEDRO He hath indeed a good outward happiness. + +CLAUDIO Before God! and, in my mind, very wise. + +DON PEDRO He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit. + +CLAUDIO And I take him to be valiant. + +DON PEDRO As Hector, I assure you: and in the managing of + quarrels you may say he is wise; for either he + avoids them with great discretion, or undertakes + them with a most Christian-like fear. + +LEONATO If he do fear God, a' must necessarily keep peace: + if he break the peace, he ought to enter into a + quarrel with fear and trembling. + +DON PEDRO And so will he do; for the man doth fear God, + howsoever it seems not in him by some large jests + he will make. Well I am sorry for your niece. Shall + we go seek Benedick, and tell him of her love? + +CLAUDIO Never tell him, my lord: let her wear it out with + good counsel. + +LEONATO Nay, that's impossible: she may wear her heart out first. + +DON PEDRO Well, we will hear further of it by your daughter: + let it cool the while. I love Benedick well; and I + could wish he would modestly examine himself, to see + how much he is unworthy so good a lady. + +LEONATO My lord, will you walk? dinner is ready. + +CLAUDIO If he do not dote on her upon this, I will never + trust my expectation. + +DON PEDRO Let there be the same net spread for her; and that + must your daughter and her gentlewomen carry. The + sport will be, when they hold one an opinion of + another's dotage, and no such matter: that's the + scene that I would see, which will be merely a + dumb-show. Let us send her to call him in to dinner. + + [Exeunt DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and LEONATO] + +BENEDICK [Coming forward] This can be no trick: the + conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of + this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it + seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! + why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: + they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive + the love come from her; they say too that she will + rather die than give any sign of affection. I did + never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy + are they that hear their detractions and can put + them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a + truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis + so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving + me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor + no great argument of her folly, for I will be + horribly in love with her. I may chance have some + odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, + because I have railed so long against marriage: but + doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat + in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. + Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of + the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? + No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would + die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I + were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! + she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in + her. + + [Enter BEATRICE] + +BEATRICE Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner. + +BENEDICK Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains. + +BEATRICE I took no more pains for those thanks than you take + pains to thank me: if it had been painful, I would + not have come. + +BENEDICK You take pleasure then in the message? + +BEATRICE Yea, just so much as you may take upon a knife's + point and choke a daw withal. You have no stomach, + signior: fare you well. + + [Exit] + +BENEDICK Ha! 'Against my will I am sent to bid you come in + to dinner;' there's a double meaning in that 'I took + no more pains for those thanks than you took pains + to thank me.' that's as much as to say, Any pains + that I take for you is as easy as thanks. If I do + not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do not + love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture. + + [Exit] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I LEONATO'S garden. + + + [Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA] + +HERO Good Margaret, run thee to the parlor; + There shalt thou find my cousin Beatrice + Proposing with the prince and Claudio: + Whisper her ear and tell her, I and Ursula + Walk in the orchard and our whole discourse + Is all of her; say that thou overheard'st us; + And bid her steal into the pleached bower, + Where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, + Forbid the sun to enter, like favourites, + Made proud by princes, that advance their pride + Against that power that bred it: there will she hide her, + To listen our purpose. This is thy office; + Bear thee well in it and leave us alone. + +MARGARET I'll make her come, I warrant you, presently. + + [Exit] + +HERO Now, Ursula, when Beatrice doth come, + As we do trace this alley up and down, + Our talk must only be of Benedick. + When I do name him, let it be thy part + To praise him more than ever man did merit: + My talk to thee must be how Benedick + Is sick in love with Beatrice. Of this matter + Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, + That only wounds by hearsay. + + [Enter BEATRICE, behind] + + Now begin; + For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs + Close by the ground, to hear our conference. + +URSULA The pleasant'st angling is to see the fish + Cut with her golden oars the silver stream, + And greedily devour the treacherous bait: + So angle we for Beatrice; who even now + Is couched in the woodbine coverture. + Fear you not my part of the dialogue. + +HERO Then go we near her, that her ear lose nothing + Of the false sweet bait that we lay for it. + + [Approaching the bower] + + No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful; + I know her spirits are as coy and wild + As haggerds of the rock. + +URSULA But are you sure + That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? + +HERO So says the prince and my new-trothed lord. + +URSULA And did they bid you tell her of it, madam? + +HERO They did entreat me to acquaint her of it; + But I persuaded them, if they loved Benedick, + To wish him wrestle with affection, + And never to let Beatrice know of it. + +URSULA Why did you so? Doth not the gentleman + Deserve as full as fortunate a bed + As ever Beatrice shall couch upon? + +HERO O god of love! I know he doth deserve + As much as may be yielded to a man: + But Nature never framed a woman's heart + Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; + Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, + Misprising what they look on, and her wit + Values itself so highly that to her + All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, + Nor take no shape nor project of affection, + She is so self-endeared. + +URSULA Sure, I think so; + And therefore certainly it were not good + She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. + +HERO Why, you speak truth. I never yet saw man, + How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured, + But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced, + She would swear the gentleman should be her sister; + If black, why, Nature, drawing of an antique, + Made a foul blot; if tall, a lance ill-headed; + If low, an agate very vilely cut; + If speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds; + If silent, why, a block moved with none. + So turns she every man the wrong side out + And never gives to truth and virtue that + Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. + +URSULA Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. + +HERO No, not to be so odd and from all fashions + As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: + But who dare tell her so? If I should speak, + She would mock me into air; O, she would laugh me + Out of myself, press me to death with wit. + Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, + Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly: + It were a better death than die with mocks, + Which is as bad as die with tickling. + +URSULA Yet tell her of it: hear what she will say. + +HERO No; rather I will go to Benedick + And counsel him to fight against his passion. + And, truly, I'll devise some honest slanders + To stain my cousin with: one doth not know + How much an ill word may empoison liking. + +URSULA O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. + She cannot be so much without true judgment-- + Having so swift and excellent a wit + As she is prized to have--as to refuse + So rare a gentleman as Signior Benedick. + +HERO He is the only man of Italy. + Always excepted my dear Claudio. + +URSULA I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, + Speaking my fancy: Signior Benedick, + For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, + Goes foremost in report through Italy. + +HERO Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. + +URSULA His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. + When are you married, madam? + +HERO Why, every day, to-morrow. Come, go in: + I'll show thee some attires, and have thy counsel + Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow. + +URSULA She's limed, I warrant you: we have caught her, madam. + +HERO If it proves so, then loving goes by haps: + Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. + + [Exeunt HERO and URSULA] + +BEATRICE [Coming forward] + What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true? + Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much? + Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! + No glory lives behind the back of such. + And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, + Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand: + If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee + To bind our loves up in a holy band; + For others say thou dost deserve, and I + Believe it better than reportingly. + + [Exit] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A room in LEONATO'S house + + + [Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, and LEONATO] + +DON PEDRO I do but stay till your marriage be consummate, and + then go I toward Arragon. + +CLAUDIO I'll bring you thither, my lord, if you'll + vouchsafe me. + +DON PEDRO Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new gloss + of your marriage as to show a child his new coat + and forbid him to wear it. I will only be bold + with Benedick for his company; for, from the crown + of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all + mirth: he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's + bow-string and the little hangman dare not shoot at + him; he hath a heart as sound as a bell and his + tongue is the clapper, for what his heart thinks his + tongue speaks. + +BENEDICK Gallants, I am not as I have been. + +LEONATO So say I methinks you are sadder. + +CLAUDIO I hope he be in love. + +DON PEDRO Hang him, truant! there's no true drop of blood in + him, to be truly touched with love: if he be sad, + he wants money. + +BENEDICK I have the toothache. + +DON PEDRO Draw it. + +BENEDICK Hang it! + +CLAUDIO You must hang it first, and draw it afterwards. + +DON PEDRO What! sigh for the toothache? + +LEONATO Where is but a humour or a worm. + +BENEDICK Well, every one can master a grief but he that has + it. + +CLAUDIO Yet say I, he is in love. + +DON PEDRO There is no appearance of fancy in him, unless it be + a fancy that he hath to strange disguises; as, to be + a Dutchman today, a Frenchman to-morrow, or in the + shape of two countries at once, as, a German from + the waist downward, all slops, and a Spaniard from + the hip upward, no doublet. Unless he have a fancy + to this foolery, as it appears he hath, he is no + fool for fancy, as you would have it appear he is. + +CLAUDIO If he be not in love with some woman, there is no + believing old signs: a' brushes his hat o' + mornings; what should that bode? + +DON PEDRO Hath any man seen him at the barber's? + +CLAUDIO No, but the barber's man hath been seen with him, + and the old ornament of his cheek hath already + stuffed tennis-balls. + +LEONATO Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by the loss of a beard. + +DON PEDRO Nay, a' rubs himself with civet: can you smell him + out by that? + +CLAUDIO That's as much as to say, the sweet youth's in love. + +DON PEDRO The greatest note of it is his melancholy. + +CLAUDIO And when was he wont to wash his face? + +DON PEDRO Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, I hear + what they say of him. + +CLAUDIO Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into + a lute-string and now governed by stops. + +DON PEDRO Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him: conclude, + conclude he is in love. + +CLAUDIO Nay, but I know who loves him. + +DON PEDRO That would I know too: I warrant, one that knows him not. + +CLAUDIO Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in despite of + all, dies for him. + +DON PEDRO She shall be buried with her face upwards. + +BENEDICK Yet is this no charm for the toothache. Old + signior, walk aside with me: I have studied eight + or nine wise words to speak to you, which these + hobby-horses must not hear. + + [Exeunt BENEDICK and LEONATO] + +DON PEDRO For my life, to break with him about Beatrice. + +CLAUDIO 'Tis even so. Hero and Margaret have by this + played their parts with Beatrice; and then the two + bears will not bite one another when they meet. + + [Enter DON JOHN] + +DON JOHN My lord and brother, God save you! + +DON PEDRO Good den, brother. + +DON JOHN If your leisure served, I would speak with you. + +DON PEDRO In private? + +DON JOHN If it please you: yet Count Claudio may hear; for + what I would speak of concerns him. + +DON PEDRO What's the matter? + +DON JOHN [To CLAUDIO] Means your lordship to be married + to-morrow? + +DON PEDRO You know he does. + +DON JOHN I know not that, when he knows what I know. + +CLAUDIO If there be any impediment, I pray you discover it. + +DON JOHN You may think I love you not: let that appear + hereafter, and aim better at me by that I now will + manifest. For my brother, I think he holds you + well, and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect + your ensuing marriage;--surely suit ill spent and + labour ill bestowed. + +DON PEDRO Why, what's the matter? + +DON JOHN I came hither to tell you; and, circumstances + shortened, for she has been too long a talking of, + the lady is disloyal. + +CLAUDIO Who, Hero? + +DON PEDRO Even she; Leonato's Hero, your Hero, every man's Hero: + +CLAUDIO Disloyal? + +DON JOHN The word is too good to paint out her wickedness; I + could say she were worse: think you of a worse + title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder not till + further warrant: go but with me to-night, you shall + see her chamber-window entered, even the night + before her wedding-day: if you love her then, + to-morrow wed her; but it would better fit your honour + to change your mind. + +CLAUDIO May this be so? + +DON PEDRO I will not think it. + +DON JOHN If you dare not trust that you see, confess not + that you know: if you will follow me, I will show + you enough; and when you have seen more and heard + more, proceed accordingly. + +CLAUDIO If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry + her to-morrow in the congregation, where I should + wed, there will I shame her. + +DON PEDRO And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join + with thee to disgrace her. + +DON JOHN I will disparage her no farther till you are my + witnesses: bear it coldly but till midnight, and + let the issue show itself. + +DON PEDRO O day untowardly turned! + +CLAUDIO O mischief strangely thwarting! + +DON JOHN O plague right well prevented! so will you say when + you have seen the sequel. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A street. + + + [Enter DOGBERRY and VERGES with the Watch] + +DOGBERRY Are you good men and true? + +VERGES Yea, or else it were pity but they should suffer + salvation, body and soul. + +DOGBERRY Nay, that were a punishment too good for them, if + they should have any allegiance in them, being + chosen for the prince's watch. + +VERGES Well, give them their charge, neighbour Dogberry. + +DOGBERRY First, who think you the most desertless man to be + constable? + +First Watchman Hugh Otecake, sir, or George Seacole; for they can + write and read. + +DOGBERRY Come hither, neighbour Seacole. God hath blessed + you with a good name: to be a well-favoured man is + the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature. + +Second Watchman Both which, master constable,-- + +DOGBERRY You have: I knew it would be your answer. Well, + for your favour, sir, why, give God thanks, and make + no boast of it; and for your writing and reading, + let that appear when there is no need of such + vanity. You are thought here to be the most + senseless and fit man for the constable of the + watch; therefore bear you the lantern. This is your + charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are + to bid any man stand, in the prince's name. + +Second Watchman How if a' will not stand? + +DOGBERRY Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and + presently call the rest of the watch together and + thank God you are rid of a knave. + +VERGES If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none + of the prince's subjects. + +DOGBERRY True, and they are to meddle with none but the + prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in + the streets; for, for the watch to babble and to + talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. + +Watchman We will rather sleep than talk: we know what + belongs to a watch. + +DOGBERRY Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet + watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should + offend: only, have a care that your bills be not + stolen. Well, you are to call at all the + ale-houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to bed. + +Watchman How if they will not? + +DOGBERRY Why, then, let them alone till they are sober: if + they make you not then the better answer, you may + say they are not the men you took them for. + +Watchman Well, sir. + +DOGBERRY If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, by virtue + of your office, to be no true man; and, for such + kind of men, the less you meddle or make with them, + why the more is for your honesty. + +Watchman If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay + hands on him? + +DOGBERRY Truly, by your office, you may; but I think they + that touch pitch will be defiled: the most peaceable + way for you, if you do take a thief, is to let him + show himself what he is and steal out of your company. + +VERGES You have been always called a merciful man, partner. + +DOGBERRY Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more + a man who hath any honesty in him. + +VERGES If you hear a child cry in the night, you must call + to the nurse and bid her still it. + +Watchman How if the nurse be asleep and will not hear us? + +DOGBERRY Why, then, depart in peace, and let the child wake + her with crying; for the ewe that will not hear her + lamb when it baes will never answer a calf when he bleats. + +VERGES 'Tis very true. + +DOGBERRY This is the end of the charge:--you, constable, are + to present the prince's own person: if you meet the + prince in the night, you may stay him. + +VERGES Nay, by'r our lady, that I think a' cannot. + +DOGBERRY Five shillings to one on't, with any man that knows + the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without + the prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought + to offend no man; and it is an offence to stay a + man against his will. + +VERGES By'r lady, I think it be so. + +DOGBERRY Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be + any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your + fellows' counsels and your own; and good night. + Come, neighbour. + +Watchman Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here + upon the church-bench till two, and then all to bed. + +DOGBERRY One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you watch + about Signior Leonato's door; for the wedding being + there to-morrow, there is a great coil to-night. + Adieu: be vigitant, I beseech you. + + [Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES] + + [Enter BORACHIO and CONRADE] + +BORACHIO What Conrade! + +Watchman [Aside] Peace! stir not. + +BORACHIO Conrade, I say! + +CONRADE Here, man; I am at thy elbow. + +BORACHIO Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a + scab follow. + +CONRADE I will owe thee an answer for that: and now forward + with thy tale. + +BORACHIO Stand thee close, then, under this pent-house, for + it drizzles rain; and I will, like a true drunkard, + utter all to thee. + +Watchman [Aside] Some treason, masters: yet stand close. + +BORACHIO Therefore know I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. + +CONRADE Is it possible that any villany should be so dear? + +BORACHIO Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any + villany should be so rich; for when rich villains + have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what + price they will. + +CONRADE I wonder at it. + +BORACHIO That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that + the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is + nothing to a man. + +CONRADE Yes, it is apparel. + +BORACHIO I mean, the fashion. + +CONRADE Yes, the fashion is the fashion. + +BORACHIO Tush! I may as well say the fool's the fool. But + seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion + is? + +Watchman [Aside] I know that Deformed; a' has been a vile + thief this seven year; a' goes up and down like a + gentleman: I remember his name. + +BORACHIO Didst thou not hear somebody? + +CONRADE No; 'twas the vane on the house. + +BORACHIO Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this + fashion is? how giddily a' turns about all the hot + bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? + sometimes fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers + in the reeky painting, sometime like god Bel's + priests in the old church-window, sometime like the + shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, + where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? + +CONRADE All this I see; and I see that the fashion wears + out more apparel than the man. But art not thou + thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast + shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion? + +BORACHIO Not so, neither: but know that I have to-night + wooed Margaret, the Lady Hero's gentlewoman, by the + name of Hero: she leans me out at her mistress' + chamber-window, bids me a thousand times good + night,--I tell this tale vilely:--I should first + tell thee how the prince, Claudio and my master, + planted and placed and possessed by my master Don + John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable encounter. + +CONRADE And thought they Margaret was Hero? + +BORACHIO Two of them did, the prince and Claudio; but the + devil my master knew she was Margaret; and partly + by his oaths, which first possessed them, partly by + the dark night, which did deceive them, but chiefly + by my villany, which did confirm any slander that + Don John had made, away went Claudio enraged; swore + he would meet her, as he was appointed, next morning + at the temple, and there, before the whole + congregation, shame her with what he saw o'er night + and send her home again without a husband. + +First Watchman We charge you, in the prince's name, stand! + +Second Watchman Call up the right master constable. We have here + recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that + ever was known in the commonwealth. + +First Watchman And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a' + wears a lock. + +CONRADE Masters, masters,-- + +Second Watchman You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I warrant you. + +CONRADE Masters,-- + +First Watchman Never speak: we charge you let us obey you to go with us. + +BORACHIO We are like to prove a goodly commodity, being taken + up of these men's bills. + +CONRADE A commodity in question, I warrant you. Come, we'll obey you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV HERO's apartment. + + + [Enter HERO, MARGARET, and URSULA] + +HERO Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, and desire + her to rise. + +URSULA I will, lady. + +HERO And bid her come hither. + +URSULA Well. + + [Exit] + +MARGARET Troth, I think your other rabato were better. + +HERO No, pray thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. + +MARGARET By my troth, 's not so good; and I warrant your + cousin will say so. + +HERO My cousin's a fool, and thou art another: I'll wear + none but this. + +MARGARET I like the new tire within excellently, if the hair + were a thought browner; and your gown's a most rare + fashion, i' faith. I saw the Duchess of Milan's + gown that they praise so. + +HERO O, that exceeds, they say. + +MARGARET By my troth, 's but a night-gown in respect of + yours: cloth o' gold, and cuts, and laced with + silver, set with pearls, down sleeves, side sleeves, + and skirts, round underborne with a bluish tinsel: + but for a fine, quaint, graceful and excellent + fashion, yours is worth ten on 't. + +HERO God give me joy to wear it! for my heart is + exceeding heavy. + +MARGARET 'Twill be heavier soon by the weight of a man. + +HERO Fie upon thee! art not ashamed? + +MARGARET Of what, lady? of speaking honourably? Is not + marriage honourable in a beggar? Is not your lord + honourable without marriage? I think you would have + me say, 'saving your reverence, a husband:' and bad + thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend + nobody: is there any harm in 'the heavier for a + husband'? None, I think, and it be the right husband + and the right wife; otherwise 'tis light, and not + heavy: ask my Lady Beatrice else; here she comes. + + [Enter BEATRICE] + +HERO Good morrow, coz. + +BEATRICE Good morrow, sweet Hero. + +HERO Why how now? do you speak in the sick tune? + +BEATRICE I am out of all other tune, methinks. + +MARGARET Clap's into 'Light o' love;' that goes without a + burden: do you sing it, and I'll dance it. + +BEATRICE Ye light o' love, with your heels! then, if your + husband have stables enough, you'll see he shall + lack no barns. + +MARGARET O illegitimate construction! I scorn that with my heels. + +BEATRICE 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin; tis time you were + ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill: heigh-ho! + +MARGARET For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? + +BEATRICE For the letter that begins them all, H. + +MARGARET Well, and you be not turned Turk, there's no more + sailing by the star. + +BEATRICE What means the fool, trow? + +MARGARET Nothing I; but God send every one their heart's desire! + +HERO These gloves the count sent me; they are an + excellent perfume. + +BEATRICE I am stuffed, cousin; I cannot smell. + +MARGARET A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly catching of cold. + +BEATRICE O, God help me! God help me! how long have you + professed apprehension? + +MARGARET Even since you left it. Doth not my wit become me rarely? + +BEATRICE It is not seen enough, you should wear it in your + cap. By my troth, I am sick. + +MARGARET Get you some of this distilled Carduus Benedictus, + and lay it to your heart: it is the only thing for a qualm. + +HERO There thou prickest her with a thistle. + +BEATRICE Benedictus! why Benedictus? you have some moral in + this Benedictus. + +MARGARET Moral! no, by my troth, I have no moral meaning; I + meant, plain holy-thistle. You may think perchance + that I think you are in love: nay, by'r lady, I am + not such a fool to think what I list, nor I list + not to think what I can, nor indeed I cannot think, + if I would think my heart out of thinking, that you + are in love or that you will be in love or that you + can be in love. Yet Benedick was such another, and + now is he become a man: he swore he would never + marry, and yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats + his meat without grudging: and how you may be + converted I know not, but methinks you look with + your eyes as other women do. + +BEATRICE What pace is this that thy tongue keeps? + +MARGARET Not a false gallop. + + [Re-enter URSULA] + +URSULA Madam, withdraw: the prince, the count, Signior + Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of the + town, are come to fetch you to church. + +HERO Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, good Ursula. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Another room in LEONATO'S house. + + + [Enter LEONATO, with DOGBERRY and VERGES] + +LEONATO What would you with me, honest neighbour? + +DOGBERRY Marry, sir, I would have some confidence with you + that decerns you nearly. + +LEONATO Brief, I pray you; for you see it is a busy time with me. + +DOGBERRY Marry, this it is, sir. + +VERGES Yes, in truth it is, sir. + +LEONATO What is it, my good friends? + +DOGBERRY Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the + matter: an old man, sir, and his wits are not so + blunt as, God help, I would desire they were; but, + in faith, honest as the skin between his brows. + +VERGES Yes, I thank God I am as honest as any man living + that is an old man and no honester than I. + +DOGBERRY Comparisons are odorous: palabras, neighbour Verges. + +LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. + +DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the + poor duke's officers; but truly, for mine own part, + if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in + my heart to bestow it all of your worship. + +LEONATO All thy tediousness on me, ah? + +DOGBERRY Yea, an 'twere a thousand pound more than 'tis; for + I hear as good exclamation on your worship as of any + man in the city; and though I be but a poor man, I + am glad to hear it. + +VERGES And so am I. + +LEONATO I would fain know what you have to say. + +VERGES Marry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting your + worship's presence, ha' ta'en a couple of as arrant + knaves as any in Messina. + +DOGBERRY A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they + say, when the age is in, the wit is out: God help + us! it is a world to see. Well said, i' faith, + neighbour Verges: well, God's a good man; an two men + ride of a horse, one must ride behind. An honest + soul, i' faith, sir; by my troth he is, as ever + broke bread; but God is to be worshipped; all men + are not alike; alas, good neighbour! + +LEONATO Indeed, neighbour, he comes too short of you. + +DOGBERRY Gifts that God gives. + +LEONATO I must leave you. + +DOGBERRY One word, sir: our watch, sir, have indeed + comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would + have them this morning examined before your worship. + +LEONATO Take their examination yourself and bring it me: I + am now in great haste, as it may appear unto you. + +DOGBERRY It shall be suffigance. + +LEONATO Drink some wine ere you go: fare you well. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, they stay for you to give your daughter to + her husband. + +LEONATO I'll wait upon them: I am ready. + + [Exeunt LEONATO and Messenger] + +DOGBERRY Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis Seacole; + bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the gaol: we + are now to examination these men. + +VERGES And we must do it wisely. + +DOGBERRY We will spare for no wit, I warrant you; here's + that shall drive some of them to a non-come: only + get the learned writer to set down our + excommunication and meet me at the gaol. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A church. + + + [Enter DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, LEONATO, FRIAR FRANCIS, + CLAUDIO, BENEDICK, HERO, BEATRICE, and Attendants] + +LEONATO Come, Friar Francis, be brief; only to the plain + form of marriage, and you shall recount their + particular duties afterwards. + +FRIAR FRANCIS You come hither, my lord, to marry this lady. + +CLAUDIO No. + +LEONATO To be married to her: friar, you come to marry her. + +FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, you come hither to be married to this count. + +HERO I do. + +FRIAR FRANCIS If either of you know any inward impediment why you + should not be conjoined, charge you, on your souls, + to utter it. + +CLAUDIO Know you any, Hero? + +HERO None, my lord. + +FRIAR FRANCIS Know you any, count? + +LEONATO I dare make his answer, none. + +CLAUDIO O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily + do, not knowing what they do! + +BENEDICK How now! interjections? Why, then, some be of + laughing, as, ah, ha, he! + +CLAUDIO Stand thee by, friar. Father, by your leave: + Will you with free and unconstrained soul + Give me this maid, your daughter? + +LEONATO As freely, son, as God did give her me. + +CLAUDIO And what have I to give you back, whose worth + May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? + +DON PEDRO Nothing, unless you render her again. + +CLAUDIO Sweet prince, you learn me noble thankfulness. + There, Leonato, take her back again: + Give not this rotten orange to your friend; + She's but the sign and semblance of her honour. + Behold how like a maid she blushes here! + O, what authority and show of truth + Can cunning sin cover itself withal! + Comes not that blood as modest evidence + To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, + All you that see her, that she were a maid, + By these exterior shows? But she is none: + She knows the heat of a luxurious bed; + Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. + +LEONATO What do you mean, my lord? + +CLAUDIO Not to be married, + Not to knit my soul to an approved wanton. + +LEONATO Dear my lord, if you, in your own proof, + Have vanquish'd the resistance of her youth, + And made defeat of her virginity,-- + +CLAUDIO I know what you would say: if I have known her, + You will say she did embrace me as a husband, + And so extenuate the 'forehand sin: + No, Leonato, + I never tempted her with word too large; + But, as a brother to his sister, show'd + Bashful sincerity and comely love. + +HERO And seem'd I ever otherwise to you? + +CLAUDIO Out on thee! Seeming! I will write against it: + You seem to me as Dian in her orb, + As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown; + But you are more intemperate in your blood + Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals + That rage in savage sensuality. + +HERO Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? + +LEONATO Sweet prince, why speak not you? + +DON PEDRO What should I speak? + I stand dishonour'd, that have gone about + To link my dear friend to a common stale. + +LEONATO Are these things spoken, or do I but dream? + +DON JOHN Sir, they are spoken, and these things are true. + +BENEDICK This looks not like a nuptial. + +HERO True! O God! + +CLAUDIO Leonato, stand I here? + Is this the prince? is this the prince's brother? + Is this face Hero's? are our eyes our own? + +LEONATO All this is so: but what of this, my lord? + +CLAUDIO Let me but move one question to your daughter; + And, by that fatherly and kindly power + That you have in her, bid her answer truly. + +LEONATO I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. + +HERO O, God defend me! how am I beset! + What kind of catechising call you this? + +CLAUDIO To make you answer truly to your name. + +HERO Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name + With any just reproach? + +CLAUDIO Marry, that can Hero; + Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. + What man was he talk'd with you yesternight + Out at your window betwixt twelve and one? + Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. + +HERO I talk'd with no man at that hour, my lord. + +DON PEDRO Why, then are you no maiden. Leonato, + I am sorry you must hear: upon mine honour, + Myself, my brother and this grieved count + Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night + Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window + Who hath indeed, most like a liberal villain, + Confess'd the vile encounters they have had + A thousand times in secret. + +DON JOHN Fie, fie! they are not to be named, my lord, + Not to be spoke of; + There is not chastity enough in language + Without offence to utter them. Thus, pretty lady, + I am sorry for thy much misgovernment. + +CLAUDIO O Hero, what a Hero hadst thou been, + If half thy outward graces had been placed + About thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart! + But fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewell, + Thou pure impiety and impious purity! + For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, + And on my eyelids shall conjecture hang, + To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, + And never shall it more be gracious. + +LEONATO Hath no man's dagger here a point for me? + + [HERO swoons] + +BEATRICE Why, how now, cousin! wherefore sink you down? + +DON JOHN Come, let us go. These things, come thus to light, + Smother her spirits up. + + [Exeunt DON PEDRO, DON JOHN, and CLAUDIO] + +BENEDICK How doth the lady? + +BEATRICE Dead, I think. Help, uncle! + Hero! why, Hero! Uncle! Signior Benedick! Friar! + +LEONATO O Fate! take not away thy heavy hand. + Death is the fairest cover for her shame + That may be wish'd for. + +BEATRICE How now, cousin Hero! + +FRIAR FRANCIS Have comfort, lady. + +LEONATO Dost thou look up? + +FRIAR FRANCIS Yea, wherefore should she not? + +LEONATO Wherefore! Why, doth not every earthly thing + Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny + The story that is printed in her blood? + Do not live, Hero; do not ope thine eyes: + For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, + Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, + Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, + Strike at thy life. Grieved I, I had but one? + Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame? + O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? + Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? + Why had I not with charitable hand + Took up a beggar's issue at my gates, + Who smirch'd thus and mired with infamy, + I might have said 'No part of it is mine; + This shame derives itself from unknown loins'? + But mine and mine I loved and mine I praised + And mine that I was proud on, mine so much + That I myself was to myself not mine, + Valuing of her,--why, she, O, she is fallen + Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea + Hath drops too few to wash her clean again + And salt too little which may season give + To her foul-tainted flesh! + +BENEDICK Sir, sir, be patient. + For my part, I am so attired in wonder, + I know not what to say. + +BEATRICE O, on my soul, my cousin is belied! + +BENEDICK Lady, were you her bedfellow last night? + +BEATRICE No, truly not; although, until last night, + I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. + +LEONATO Confirm'd, confirm'd! O, that is stronger made + Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! + Would the two princes lie, and Claudio lie, + Who loved her so, that, speaking of her foulness, + Wash'd it with tears? Hence from her! let her die. + +FRIAR FRANCIS Hear me a little; for I have only been + Silent so long and given way unto + This course of fortune [ ] + By noting of the lady I have mark'd + A thousand blushing apparitions + To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames + In angel whiteness beat away those blushes; + And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, + To burn the errors that these princes hold + Against her maiden truth. Call me a fool; + Trust not my reading nor my observations, + Which with experimental seal doth warrant + The tenor of my book; trust not my age, + My reverence, calling, nor divinity, + If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here + Under some biting error. + +LEONATO Friar, it cannot be. + Thou seest that all the grace that she hath left + Is that she will not add to her damnation + A sin of perjury; she not denies it: + Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse + That which appears in proper nakedness? + +FRIAR FRANCIS Lady, what man is he you are accused of? + +HERO They know that do accuse me; I know none: + If I know more of any man alive + Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, + Let all my sins lack mercy! O my father, + Prove you that any man with me conversed + At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight + Maintain'd the change of words with any creature, + Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death! + +FRIAR FRANCIS There is some strange misprision in the princes. + +BENEDICK Two of them have the very bent of honour; + And if their wisdoms be misled in this, + The practise of it lives in John the bastard, + Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. + +LEONATO I know not. If they speak but truth of her, + These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, + The proudest of them shall well hear of it. + Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, + Nor age so eat up my invention, + Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, + Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, + But they shall find, awaked in such a kind, + Both strength of limb and policy of mind, + Ability in means and choice of friends, + To quit me of them throughly. + +FRIAR FRANCIS Pause awhile, + And let my counsel sway you in this case. + Your daughter here the princes left for dead: + Let her awhile be secretly kept in, + And publish it that she is dead indeed; + Maintain a mourning ostentation + And on your family's old monument + Hang mournful epitaphs and do all rites + That appertain unto a burial. + +LEONATO What shall become of this? what will this do? + +FRIAR FRANCIS Marry, this well carried shall on her behalf + Change slander to remorse; that is some good: + But not for that dream I on this strange course, + But on this travail look for greater birth. + She dying, as it must so be maintain'd, + Upon the instant that she was accused, + Shall be lamented, pitied and excused + Of every hearer: for it so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth + Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, + Why, then we rack the value, then we find + The virtue that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. So will it fare with Claudio: + When he shall hear she died upon his words, + The idea of her life shall sweetly creep + Into his study of imagination, + And every lovely organ of her life + Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, + More moving-delicate and full of life, + Into the eye and prospect of his soul, + Than when she lived indeed; then shall he mourn, + If ever love had interest in his liver, + And wish he had not so accused her, + No, though he thought his accusation true. + Let this be so, and doubt not but success + Will fashion the event in better shape + Than I can lay it down in likelihood. + But if all aim but this be levell'd false, + The supposition of the lady's death + Will quench the wonder of her infamy: + And if it sort not well, you may conceal her, + As best befits her wounded reputation, + In some reclusive and religious life, + Out of all eyes, tongues, minds and injuries. + +BENEDICK Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: + And though you know my inwardness and love + Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, + Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this + As secretly and justly as your soul + Should with your body. + +LEONATO Being that I flow in grief, + The smallest twine may lead me. + +FRIAR FRANCIS 'Tis well consented: presently away; + For to strange sores strangely they strain the cure. + Come, lady, die to live: this wedding-day + Perhaps is but prolong'd: have patience and endure. + + [Exeunt all but BENEDICK and BEATRICE] + +BENEDICK Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? + +BEATRICE Yea, and I will weep a while longer. + +BENEDICK I will not desire that. + +BEATRICE You have no reason; I do it freely. + +BENEDICK Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. + +BEATRICE Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! + +BENEDICK Is there any way to show such friendship? + +BEATRICE A very even way, but no such friend. + +BENEDICK May a man do it? + +BEATRICE It is a man's office, but not yours. + +BENEDICK I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is + not that strange? + +BEATRICE As strange as the thing I know not. It were as + possible for me to say I loved nothing so well as + you: but believe me not; and yet I lie not; I + confess nothing, nor I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin. + +BENEDICK By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. + +BEATRICE Do not swear, and eat it. + +BENEDICK I will swear by it that you love me; and I will make + him eat it that says I love not you. + +BEATRICE Will you not eat your word? + +BENEDICK With no sauce that can be devised to it. I protest + I love thee. + +BEATRICE Why, then, God forgive me! + +BENEDICK What offence, sweet Beatrice? + +BEATRICE You have stayed me in a happy hour: I was about to + protest I loved you. + +BENEDICK And do it with all thy heart. + +BEATRICE I love you with so much of my heart that none is + left to protest. + +BENEDICK Come, bid me do any thing for thee. + +BEATRICE Kill Claudio. + +BENEDICK Ha! not for the wide world. + +BEATRICE You kill me to deny it. Farewell. + +BENEDICK Tarry, sweet Beatrice. + +BEATRICE I am gone, though I am here: there is no love in + you: nay, I pray you, let me go. + +BENEDICK Beatrice,-- + +BEATRICE In faith, I will go. + +BENEDICK We'll be friends first. + +BEATRICE You dare easier be friends with me than fight with mine enemy. + +BENEDICK Is Claudio thine enemy? + +BEATRICE Is he not approved in the height a villain, that + hath slandered, scorned, dishonoured my kinswoman? O + that I were a man! What, bear her in hand until they + come to take hands; and then, with public + accusation, uncovered slander, unmitigated rancour, + --O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart + in the market-place. + +BENEDICK Hear me, Beatrice,-- + +BEATRICE Talk with a man out at a window! A proper saying! + +BENEDICK Nay, but, Beatrice,-- + +BEATRICE Sweet Hero! She is wronged, she is slandered, she is undone. + +BENEDICK Beat-- + +BEATRICE Princes and counties! Surely, a princely testimony, + a goodly count, Count Comfect; a sweet gallant, + surely! O that I were a man for his sake! or that I + had any friend would be a man for my sake! But + manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into + compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and + trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules + that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a + man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving. + +BENEDICK Tarry, good Beatrice. By this hand, I love thee. + +BEATRICE Use it for my love some other way than swearing by it. + +BENEDICK Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero? + +BEATRICE Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul. + +BENEDICK Enough, I am engaged; I will challenge him. I will + kiss your hand, and so I leave you. By this hand, + Claudio shall render me a dear account. As you + hear of me, so think of me. Go, comfort your + cousin: I must say she is dead: and so, farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II A prison. + + + [Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and Sexton, in gowns; and + the Watch, with CONRADE and BORACHIO] + +DOGBERRY Is our whole dissembly appeared? + +VERGES O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton. + +Sexton Which be the malefactors? + +DOGBERRY Marry, that am I and my partner. + +VERGES Nay, that's certain; we have the exhibition to examine. + +Sexton But which are the offenders that are to be + examined? let them come before master constable. + +DOGBERRY Yea, marry, let them come before me. What is your + name, friend? + +BORACHIO Borachio. + +DOGBERRY Pray, write down, Borachio. Yours, sirrah? + +CONRADE I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Conrade. + +DOGBERRY Write down, master gentleman Conrade. Masters, do + you serve God? + + +CONRADE | + | Yea, sir, we hope. +BORACHIO | + + +DOGBERRY Write down, that they hope they serve God: and + write God first; for God defend but God should go + before such villains! Masters, it is proved already + that you are little better than false knaves; and it + will go near to be thought so shortly. How answer + you for yourselves? + +CONRADE Marry, sir, we say we are none. + +DOGBERRY A marvellous witty fellow, I assure you: but I + will go about with him. Come you hither, sirrah; a + word in your ear: sir, I say to you, it is thought + you are false knaves. + +BORACHIO Sir, I say to you we are none. + +DOGBERRY Well, stand aside. 'Fore God, they are both in a + tale. Have you writ down, that they are none? + +Sexton Master constable, you go not the way to examine: + you must call forth the watch that are their accusers. + +DOGBERRY Yea, marry, that's the eftest way. Let the watch + come forth. Masters, I charge you, in the prince's + name, accuse these men. + +First Watchman This man said, sir, that Don John, the prince's + brother, was a villain. + +DOGBERRY Write down Prince John a villain. Why, this is flat + perjury, to call a prince's brother villain. + +BORACHIO Master constable,-- + +DOGBERRY Pray thee, fellow, peace: I do not like thy look, + I promise thee. + +Sexton What heard you him say else? + +Second Watchman Marry, that he had received a thousand ducats of + Don John for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully. + +DOGBERRY Flat burglary as ever was committed. + +VERGES Yea, by mass, that it is. + +Sexton What else, fellow? + +First Watchman And that Count Claudio did mean, upon his words, to + disgrace Hero before the whole assembly. and not marry her. + +DOGBERRY O villain! thou wilt be condemned into everlasting + redemption for this. + +Sexton What else? + +Watchman This is all. + +Sexton And this is more, masters, than you can deny. + Prince John is this morning secretly stolen away; + Hero was in this manner accused, in this very manner + refused, and upon the grief of this suddenly died. + Master constable, let these men be bound, and + brought to Leonato's: I will go before and show + him their examination. + + [Exit] + +DOGBERRY Come, let them be opinioned. + +VERGES Let them be in the hands-- + +CONRADE Off, coxcomb! + +DOGBERRY God's my life, where's the sexton? let him write + down the prince's officer coxcomb. Come, bind them. + Thou naughty varlet! + +CONRADE Away! you are an ass, you are an ass. + +DOGBERRY Dost thou not suspect my place? dost thou not + suspect my years? O that he were here to write me + down an ass! But, masters, remember that I am an + ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not + that I am an ass. No, thou villain, thou art full of + piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good witness. + I am a wise fellow, and, which is more, an officer, + and, which is more, a householder, and, which is + more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in + Messina, and one that knows the law, go to; and a + rich fellow enough, go to; and a fellow that hath + had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every + thing handsome about him. Bring him away. O that + I had been writ down an ass! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Before LEONATO'S house. + + + [Enter LEONATO and ANTONIO] + +ANTONIO If you go on thus, you will kill yourself: + And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief + Against yourself. + +LEONATO I pray thee, cease thy counsel, + Which falls into mine ears as profitless + As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; + Nor let no comforter delight mine ear + But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. + Bring me a father that so loved his child, + Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, + And bid him speak of patience; + Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine + And let it answer every strain for strain, + As thus for thus and such a grief for such, + In every lineament, branch, shape, and form: + If such a one will smile and stroke his beard, + Bid sorrow wag, cry 'hem!' when he should groan, + Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk + With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me, + And I of him will gather patience. + But there is no such man: for, brother, men + Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow, + But no man's virtue nor sufficiency + To be so moral when he shall endure + The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: + My griefs cry louder than advertisement. + +ANTONIO Therein do men from children nothing differ. + +LEONATO I pray thee, peace. I will be flesh and blood; + For there was never yet philosopher + That could endure the toothache patiently, + However they have writ the style of gods + And made a push at chance and sufferance. + +ANTONIO Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; + Make those that do offend you suffer too. + +LEONATO There thou speak'st reason: nay, I will do so. + My soul doth tell me Hero is belied; + And that shall Claudio know; so shall the prince + And all of them that thus dishonour her. + +ANTONIO Here comes the prince and Claudio hastily. + + [Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO] + +DON PEDRO Good den, good den. + +CLAUDIO Good day to both of you. + +LEONATO Hear you. my lords,-- + +DON PEDRO We have some haste, Leonato. + +LEONATO Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord: + Are you so hasty now? well, all is one. + +DON PEDRO Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. + +ANTONIO If he could right himself with quarreling, + Some of us would lie low. + +CLAUDIO Who wrongs him? + +LEONATO Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou:-- + Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword; + I fear thee not. + +CLAUDIO Marry, beshrew my hand, + If it should give your age such cause of fear: + In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. + +LEONATO Tush, tush, man; never fleer and jest at me: + I speak not like a dotard nor a fool, + As under privilege of age to brag + What I have done being young, or what would do + Were I not old. Know, Claudio, to thy head, + Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and me + That I am forced to lay my reverence by + And, with grey hairs and bruise of many days, + Do challenge thee to trial of a man. + I say thou hast belied mine innocent child; + Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, + And she lies buried with her ancestors; + O, in a tomb where never scandal slept, + Save this of hers, framed by thy villany! + +CLAUDIO My villany? + +LEONATO Thine, Claudio; thine, I say. + +DON PEDRO You say not right, old man. + +LEONATO My lord, my lord, + I'll prove it on his body, if he dare, + Despite his nice fence and his active practise, + His May of youth and bloom of lustihood. + +CLAUDIO Away! I will not have to do with you. + +LEONATO Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast kill'd my child: + If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. + +ANTONIO He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: + But that's no matter; let him kill one first; + Win me and wear me; let him answer me. + Come, follow me, boy; come, sir boy, come, follow me: + Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence; + Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. + +LEONATO Brother,-- + +ANTONIO Content yourself. God knows I loved my niece; + And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains, + That dare as well answer a man indeed + As I dare take a serpent by the tongue: + Boys, apes, braggarts, Jacks, milksops! + +LEONATO Brother Antony,-- + +ANTONIO Hold you content. What, man! I know them, yea, + And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple,-- + Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-monging boys, + That lie and cog and flout, deprave and slander, + Go anticly, show outward hideousness, + And speak off half a dozen dangerous words, + How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst; + And this is all. + +LEONATO But, brother Antony,-- + +ANTONIO Come, 'tis no matter: + Do not you meddle; let me deal in this. + +DON PEDRO Gentlemen both, we will not wake your patience. + My heart is sorry for your daughter's death: + But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing + But what was true and very full of proof. + +LEONATO My lord, my lord,-- + +DON PEDRO I will not hear you. + +LEONATO No? Come, brother; away! I will be heard. + +ANTONIO And shall, or some of us will smart for it. + + [Exeunt LEONATO and ANTONIO] + +DON PEDRO See, see; here comes the man we went to seek. + + [Enter BENEDICK] + +CLAUDIO Now, signior, what news? + +BENEDICK Good day, my lord. + +DON PEDRO Welcome, signior: you are almost come to part + almost a fray. + +CLAUDIO We had like to have had our two noses snapped off + with two old men without teeth. + +DON PEDRO Leonato and his brother. What thinkest thou? Had + we fought, I doubt we should have been too young for them. + +BENEDICK In a false quarrel there is no true valour. I came + to seek you both. + +CLAUDIO We have been up and down to seek thee; for we are + high-proof melancholy and would fain have it beaten + away. Wilt thou use thy wit? + +BENEDICK It is in my scabbard: shall I draw it? + +DON PEDRO Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side? + +CLAUDIO Never any did so, though very many have been beside + their wit. I will bid thee draw, as we do the + minstrels; draw, to pleasure us. + +DON PEDRO As I am an honest man, he looks pale. Art thou + sick, or angry? + +CLAUDIO What, courage, man! What though care killed a cat, + thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. + +BENEDICK Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, and you + charge it against me. I pray you choose another subject. + +CLAUDIO Nay, then, give him another staff: this last was + broke cross. + +DON PEDRO By this light, he changes more and more: I think + he be angry indeed. + +CLAUDIO If he be, he knows how to turn his girdle. + +BENEDICK Shall I speak a word in your ear? + +CLAUDIO God bless me from a challenge! + +BENEDICK [Aside to CLAUDIO] You are a villain; I jest not: + I will make it good how you dare, with what you + dare, and when you dare. Do me right, or I will + protest your cowardice. You have killed a sweet + lady, and her death shall fall heavy on you. Let me + hear from you. + +CLAUDIO Well, I will meet you, so I may have good cheer. + +DON PEDRO What, a feast, a feast? + +CLAUDIO I' faith, I thank him; he hath bid me to a calf's + head and a capon; the which if I do not carve most + curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not find + a woodcock too? + +BENEDICK Sir, your wit ambles well; it goes easily. + +DON PEDRO I'll tell thee how Beatrice praised thy wit the + other day. I said, thou hadst a fine wit: 'True,' + said she, 'a fine little one.' 'No,' said I, 'a + great wit:' 'Right,' says she, 'a great gross one.' + 'Nay,' said I, 'a good wit:' 'Just,' said she, 'it + hurts nobody.' 'Nay,' said I, 'the gentleman + is wise:' 'Certain,' said she, 'a wise gentleman.' + 'Nay,' said I, 'he hath the tongues:' 'That I + believe,' said she, 'for he swore a thing to me on + Monday night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning; + there's a double tongue; there's two tongues.' Thus + did she, an hour together, transshape thy particular + virtues: yet at last she concluded with a sigh, thou + wast the properest man in Italy. + +CLAUDIO For the which she wept heartily and said she cared + not. + +DON PEDRO Yea, that she did: but yet, for all that, an if she + did not hate him deadly, she would love him dearly: + the old man's daughter told us all. + +CLAUDIO All, all; and, moreover, God saw him when he was + hid in the garden. + +DON PEDRO But when shall we set the savage bull's horns on + the sensible Benedick's head? + +CLAUDIO Yea, and text underneath, 'Here dwells Benedick the + married man'? + +BENEDICK Fare you well, boy: you know my mind. I will leave + you now to your gossip-like humour: you break jests + as braggarts do their blades, which God be thanked, + hurt not. My lord, for your many courtesies I thank + you: I must discontinue your company: your brother + the bastard is fled from Messina: you have among + you killed a sweet and innocent lady. For my Lord + Lackbeard there, he and I shall meet: and, till + then, peace be with him. + + [Exit] + +DON PEDRO He is in earnest. + +CLAUDIO In most profound earnest; and, I'll warrant you, for + the love of Beatrice. + +DON PEDRO And hath challenged thee. + +CLAUDIO Most sincerely. + +DON PEDRO What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his + doublet and hose and leaves off his wit! + +CLAUDIO He is then a giant to an ape; but then is an ape a + doctor to such a man. + +DON PEDRO But, soft you, let me be: pluck up, my heart, and + be sad. Did he not say, my brother was fled? + + [Enter DOGBERRY, VERGES, and the Watch, with CONRADE + and BORACHIO] + +DOGBERRY Come you, sir: if justice cannot tame you, she + shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance: nay, + an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must be looked to. + +DON PEDRO How now? two of my brother's men bound! Borachio + one! + +CLAUDIO Hearken after their offence, my lord. + +DON PEDRO Officers, what offence have these men done? + +DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report; + moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, + they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have + belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust + things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. + +DON PEDRO First, I ask thee what they have done; thirdly, I + ask thee what's their offence; sixth and lastly, why + they are committed; and, to conclude, what you lay + to their charge. + +CLAUDIO Rightly reasoned, and in his own division: and, by + my troth, there's one meaning well suited. + +DON PEDRO Who have you offended, masters, that you are thus + bound to your answer? this learned constable is + too cunning to be understood: what's your offence? + +BORACHIO Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine answer: + do you hear me, and let this count kill me. I have + deceived even your very eyes: what your wisdoms + could not discover, these shallow fools have brought + to light: who in the night overheard me confessing + to this man how Don John your brother incensed me + to slander the Lady Hero, how you were brought into + the orchard and saw me court Margaret in Hero's + garments, how you disgraced her, when you should + marry her: my villany they have upon record; which + I had rather seal with my death than repeat over + to my shame. The lady is dead upon mine and my + master's false accusation; and, briefly, I desire + nothing but the reward of a villain. + +DON PEDRO Runs not this speech like iron through your blood? + +CLAUDIO I have drunk poison whiles he utter'd it. + +DON PEDRO But did my brother set thee on to this? + +BORACHIO Yea, and paid me richly for the practise of it. + +DON PEDRO He is composed and framed of treachery: + And fled he is upon this villany. + +CLAUDIO Sweet Hero! now thy image doth appear + In the rare semblance that I loved it first. + +DOGBERRY Come, bring away the plaintiffs: by this time our + sexton hath reformed Signior Leonato of the matter: + and, masters, do not forget to specify, when time + and place shall serve, that I am an ass. + +VERGES Here, here comes master Signior Leonato, and the + Sexton too. + + [Re-enter LEONATO and ANTONIO, with the Sexton] + +LEONATO Which is the villain? let me see his eyes, + That, when I note another man like him, + I may avoid him: which of these is he? + +BORACHIO If you would know your wronger, look on me. + +LEONATO Art thou the slave that with thy breath hast kill'd + Mine innocent child? + +BORACHIO Yea, even I alone. + +LEONATO No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself: + Here stand a pair of honourable men; + A third is fled, that had a hand in it. + I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death: + Record it with your high and worthy deeds: + 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. + +CLAUDIO I know not how to pray your patience; + Yet I must speak. Choose your revenge yourself; + Impose me to what penance your invention + Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not + But in mistaking. + +DON PEDRO By my soul, nor I: + And yet, to satisfy this good old man, + I would bend under any heavy weight + That he'll enjoin me to. + +LEONATO I cannot bid you bid my daughter live; + That were impossible: but, I pray you both, + Possess the people in Messina here + How innocent she died; and if your love + Can labour ought in sad invention, + Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb + And sing it to her bones, sing it to-night: + To-morrow morning come you to my house, + And since you could not be my son-in-law, + Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter, + Almost the copy of my child that's dead, + And she alone is heir to both of us: + Give her the right you should have given her cousin, + And so dies my revenge. + +CLAUDIO O noble sir, + Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me! + I do embrace your offer; and dispose + For henceforth of poor Claudio. + +LEONATO To-morrow then I will expect your coming; + To-night I take my leave. This naughty man + Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, + Who I believe was pack'd in all this wrong, + Hired to it by your brother. + +BORACHIO No, by my soul, she was not, + Nor knew not what she did when she spoke to me, + But always hath been just and virtuous + In any thing that I do know by her. + +DOGBERRY Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and + black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call + me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his + punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of + one Deformed: they say be wears a key in his ear and + a lock hanging by it, and borrows money in God's + name, the which he hath used so long and never paid + that now men grow hard-hearted and will lend nothing + for God's sake: pray you, examine him upon that point. + +LEONATO I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. + +DOGBERRY Your worship speaks like a most thankful and + reverend youth; and I praise God for you. + +LEONATO There's for thy pains. + +DOGBERRY God save the foundation! + +LEONATO Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. + +DOGBERRY I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I + beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the + example of others. God keep your worship! I wish + your worship well; God restore you to health! I + humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry + meeting may be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbour. + + [Exeunt DOGBERRY and VERGES] + +LEONATO Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewell. + +ANTONIO Farewell, my lords: we look for you to-morrow. + +DON PEDRO We will not fail. + +CLAUDIO To-night I'll mourn with Hero. + +LEONATO [To the Watch] Bring you these fellows on. We'll + talk with Margaret, + How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. + + [Exeunt, severally] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II LEONATO'S garden. + + + [Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting] + +BENEDICK Pray thee, sweet Mistress Margaret, deserve well at + my hands by helping me to the speech of Beatrice. + +MARGARET Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty? + +BENEDICK In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living + shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou + deservest it. + +MARGARET To have no man come over me! why, shall I always + keep below stairs? + +BENEDICK Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth; it catches. + +MARGARET And yours as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, + but hurt not. + +BENEDICK A most manly wit, Margaret; it will not hurt a + woman: and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give + thee the bucklers. + +MARGARET Give us the swords; we have bucklers of our own. + +BENEDICK If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the + pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. + +MARGARET Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who I think hath legs. + +BENEDICK And therefore will come. + + [Exit MARGARET] + + [Sings] + + The god of love, + That sits above, + And knows me, and knows me, + How pitiful I deserve,-- + + I mean in singing; but in loving, Leander the good + swimmer, Troilus the first employer of panders, and + a whole bookful of these quondam carpet-mangers, + whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a + blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned + over and over as my poor self in love. Marry, I + cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried: I can find + out no rhyme to 'lady' but 'baby,' an innocent + rhyme; for 'scorn,' 'horn,' a hard rhyme; for, + 'school,' 'fool,' a babbling rhyme; very ominous + endings: no, I was not born under a rhyming planet, + nor I cannot woo in festival terms. + + [Enter BEATRICE] + + Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? + +BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. + +BENEDICK O, stay but till then! + +BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken; fare you well now: and yet, ere + I go, let me go with that I came; which is, with + knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio. + +BENEDICK Only foul words; and thereupon I will kiss thee. + +BEATRICE Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but + foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I + will depart unkissed. + +BENEDICK Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, + so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee + plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either + I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe + him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me for + which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? + +BEATRICE For them all together; which maintained so politic + a state of evil that they will not admit any good + part to intermingle with them. But for which of my + good parts did you first suffer love for me? + +BENEDICK Suffer love! a good epithet! I do suffer love + indeed, for I love thee against my will. + +BEATRICE In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart! + If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for + yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates. + +BENEDICK Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. + +BEATRICE It appears not in this confession: there's not one + wise man among twenty that will praise himself. + +BENEDICK An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in + the lime of good neighbours. If a man do not erect + in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live + no longer in monument than the bell rings and the + widow weeps. + +BEATRICE And how long is that, think you? + +BENEDICK Question: why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in + rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the + wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no + impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his + own virtues, as I am to myself. So much for + praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is + praiseworthy: and now tell me, how doth your cousin? + +BEATRICE Very ill. + +BENEDICK And how do you? + +BEATRICE Very ill too. + +BENEDICK Serve God, love me and mend. There will I leave + you too, for here comes one in haste. + + [Enter URSULA] + +URSULA Madam, you must come to your uncle. Yonder's old + coil at home: it is proved my Lady Hero hath been + falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily + abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is + fed and gone. Will you come presently? + +BEATRICE Will you go hear this news, signior? + +BENEDICK I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be + buried in thy eyes; and moreover I will go with + thee to thy uncle's. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III A church. + + + [Enter DON PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and three or four + with tapers] + +CLAUDIO Is this the monument of Leonato? + +Lord It is, my lord. + +CLAUDIO [Reading out of a scroll] + Done to death by slanderous tongues + Was the Hero that here lies: + Death, in guerdon of her wrongs, + Gives her fame which never dies. + So the life that died with shame + Lives in death with glorious fame. + Hang thou there upon the tomb, + Praising her when I am dumb. + + Now, music, sound, and sing your solemn hymn. + SONG. + + Pardon, goddess of the night, + Those that slew thy virgin knight; + For the which, with songs of woe, + Round about her tomb they go. + Midnight, assist our moan; + Help us to sigh and groan, + Heavily, heavily: + Graves, yawn and yield your dead, + Till death be uttered, + Heavily, heavily. + +CLAUDIO Now, unto thy bones good night! + Yearly will I do this rite. + +DON PEDRO Good morrow, masters; put your torches out: + The wolves have prey'd; and look, the gentle day, + Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about + Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey. + Thanks to you all, and leave us: fare you well. + +CLAUDIO Good morrow, masters: each his several way. + +DON PEDRO Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds; + And then to Leonato's we will go. + +CLAUDIO And Hymen now with luckier issue speed's + Than this for whom we render'd up this woe. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV A room in LEONATO'S house. + + + [Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEATRICE, + MARGARET, URSULA, FRIAR FRANCIS, and HERO] + +FRIAR FRANCIS Did I not tell you she was innocent? + +LEONATO So are the prince and Claudio, who accused her + Upon the error that you heard debated: + But Margaret was in some fault for this, + Although against her will, as it appears + In the true course of all the question. + +ANTONIO Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. + +BENEDICK And so am I, being else by faith enforced + To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. + +LEONATO Well, daughter, and you gentle-women all, + Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves, + And when I send for you, come hither mask'd. + + [Exeunt Ladies] + + The prince and Claudio promised by this hour + To visit me. You know your office, brother: + You must be father to your brother's daughter + And give her to young Claudio. + +ANTONIO Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. + +BENEDICK Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. + +FRIAR FRANCIS To do what, signior? + +BENEDICK To bind me, or undo me; one of them. + Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, + Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. + +LEONATO That eye my daughter lent her: 'tis most true. + +BENEDICK And I do with an eye of love requite her. + +LEONATO The sight whereof I think you had from me, + From Claudio and the prince: but what's your will? + +BENEDICK Your answer, sir, is enigmatical: + But, for my will, my will is your good will + May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd + In the state of honourable marriage: + In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. + +LEONATO My heart is with your liking. + +FRIAR FRANCIS And my help. + Here comes the prince and Claudio. + + [Enter DON PEDRO and CLAUDIO, and two or + three others] + +DON PEDRO Good morrow to this fair assembly. + +LEONATO Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio: + We here attend you. Are you yet determined + To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? + +CLAUDIO I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. + +LEONATO Call her forth, brother; here's the friar ready. + + [Exit ANTONIO] + +DON PEDRO Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what's the matter, + That you have such a February face, + So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? + +CLAUDIO I think he thinks upon the savage bull. + Tush, fear not, man; we'll tip thy horns with gold + And all Europa shall rejoice at thee, + As once Europa did at lusty Jove, + When he would play the noble beast in love. + +BENEDICK Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low; + And some such strange bull leap'd your father's cow, + And got a calf in that same noble feat + Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. + +CLAUDIO For this I owe you: here comes other reckonings. + + [Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked] + + Which is the lady I must seize upon? + +ANTONIO This same is she, and I do give you her. + +CLAUDIO Why, then she's mine. Sweet, let me see your face. + +LEONATO No, that you shall not, till you take her hand + Before this friar and swear to marry her. + +CLAUDIO Give me your hand: before this holy friar, + I am your husband, if you like of me. + +HERO And when I lived, I was your other wife: + + [Unmasking] + + And when you loved, you were my other husband. + +CLAUDIO Another Hero! + +HERO Nothing certainer: + One Hero died defiled, but I do live, + And surely as I live, I am a maid. + +DON PEDRO The former Hero! Hero that is dead! + +LEONATO She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived. + +FRIAR FRANCIS All this amazement can I qualify: + When after that the holy rites are ended, + I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: + Meantime let wonder seem familiar, + And to the chapel let us presently. + +BENEDICK Soft and fair, friar. Which is Beatrice? + +BEATRICE [Unmasking] I answer to that name. What is your will? + +BENEDICK Do not you love me? + +BEATRICE Why, no; no more than reason. + +BENEDICK Why, then your uncle and the prince and Claudio + Have been deceived; they swore you did. + +BEATRICE Do not you love me? + +BENEDICK Troth, no; no more than reason. + +BEATRICE Why, then my cousin Margaret and Ursula + Are much deceived; for they did swear you did. + +BENEDICK They swore that you were almost sick for me. + +BEATRICE They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me. + +BENEDICK 'Tis no such matter. Then you do not love me? + +BEATRICE No, truly, but in friendly recompense. + +LEONATO Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gentleman. + +CLAUDIO And I'll be sworn upon't that he loves her; + For here's a paper written in his hand, + A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, + Fashion'd to Beatrice. + +HERO And here's another + Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, + Containing her affection unto Benedick. + +BENEDICK A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts. + Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take + thee for pity. + +BEATRICE I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield + upon great persuasion; and partly to save your life, + for I was told you were in a consumption. + +BENEDICK Peace! I will stop your mouth. + + [Kissing her] + +DON PEDRO How dost thou, Benedick, the married man? + +BENEDICK I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of + wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour. Dost + thou think I care for a satire or an epigram? No: + if a man will be beaten with brains, a' shall wear + nothing handsome about him. In brief, since I do + purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any + purpose that the world can say against it; and + therefore never flout at me for what I have said + against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my + conclusion. For thy part, Claudio, I did think to + have beaten thee, but in that thou art like to be my + kinsman, live unbruised and love my cousin. + +CLAUDIO I had well hoped thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, + that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single + life, to make thee a double-dealer; which, out of + question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look + exceedingly narrowly to thee. + +BENEDICK Come, come, we are friends: let's have a dance ere + we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts + and our wives' heels. + +LEONATO We'll have dancing afterward. + +BENEDICK First, of my word; therefore play, music. Prince, + thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: + there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight, + And brought with armed men back to Messina. + +BENEDICK Think not on him till to-morrow: + I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. + Strike up, pipers. + + [Dance] + + [Exeunt] + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +ANTIOCHUS king of Antioch. + +PERICLES prince of Tyre. + + +HELICANUS | + | two lords of Tyre. +ESCANES | + + +SIMONIDES king of Pentapolis. + +CLEON governor of Tarsus. + +LYSIMACHUS governor of Mytilene. + +CERIMON a lord of Ephesus. + +THALIARD a lord of Antioch. + +PHILEMON servant to Cerimon. + +LEONINE servant to Dionyza. + + Marshal. (Marshal:) + + A Pandar. (Pandar:) + +BOULT his servant. + + The Daughter of Antiochus. (Daughter:) + +DIONYZA wife to Cleon. + +THAISA daughter to Simonides. + +MARINA daughter to Pericles and Thaisa. + +LYCHORIDA nurse to Marina. + + A Bawd. (Bawd:) + + Lords, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, Pirates, + Fishermen, and Messengers. (Lord:) + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (Third Lord:) + (First Knight:) + (Second Knight:) + (Third Knight:) + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + (First Sailor:) + (Second Sailor:) + (First Pirate:) + (Second Pirate:) + (Third Pirate:) + (First Fisherman:) + (Second Fisherman:) + (Third Fisherman:) + (Messenger:) + +DIANA: + +GOWER as Chorus. + + + +SCENE Dispersedly in various countries. + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT I + + + [Enter GOWER] + + [Before the palace of Antioch] + + To sing a song that old was sung, + From ashes ancient Gower is come; + Assuming man's infirmities, + To glad your ear, and please your eyes. + It hath been sung at festivals, + On ember-eves and holy-ales; + And lords and ladies in their lives + Have read it for restoratives: + The purchase is to make men glorious; + Et bonum quo antiquius, eo melius. + If you, born in these latter times, + When wit's more ripe, accept my rhymes. + And that to hear an old man sing + May to your wishes pleasure bring + I life would wish, and that I might + Waste it for you, like taper-light. + This Antioch, then, Antiochus the Great + Built up, this city, for his chiefest seat: + The fairest in all Syria, + I tell you what mine authors say: + This king unto him took a fere, + Who died and left a female heir, + So buxom, blithe, and full of face, + As heaven had lent her all his grace; + With whom the father liking took, + And her to incest did provoke: + Bad child; worse father! to entice his own + To evil should be done by none: + But custom what they did begin + Was with long use account no sin. + The beauty of this sinful dame + Made many princes thither frame, + To seek her as a bed-fellow, + In marriage-pleasures play-fellow: + Which to prevent he made a law, + To keep her still, and men in awe, + That whoso ask'd her for his wife, + His riddle told not, lost his life: + So for her many a wight did die, + As yon grim looks do testify. + What now ensues, to the judgment of your eye + I give, my cause who best can justify. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Antioch. A room in the palace. + + + [Enter ANTIOCHUS, Prince PERICLES, and followers] + +ANTIOCHUS Young prince of Tyre, you have at large received + The danger of the task you undertake. + +PERICLES I have, Antiochus, and, with a soul + Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, + Think death no hazard in this enterprise. + +ANTIOCHUS Bring in our daughter, clothed like a bride, + For the embracements even of Jove himself; + At whose conception, till Lucina reign'd, + Nature this dowry gave, to glad her presence, + The senate-house of planets all did sit, + To knit in her their best perfections. + + [Music. Enter the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] + +PERICLES See where she comes, apparell'd like the spring, + Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king + Of every virtue gives renown to men! + Her face the book of praises, where is read + Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence + Sorrow were ever razed and testy wrath + Could never be her mild companion. + You gods that made me man, and sway in love, + That have inflamed desire in my breast + To taste the fruit of yon celestial tree, + Or die in the adventure, be my helps, + As I am son and servant to your will, + To compass such a boundless happiness! + +ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles,-- + +PERICLES That would be son to great Antiochus. + +ANTIOCHUS Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, + With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd; + For death-like dragons here affright thee hard: + Her face, like heaven, enticeth thee to view + Her countless glory, which desert must gain; + And which, without desert, because thine eye + Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must die. + Yon sometimes famous princes, like thyself, + Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, + Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, + That without covering, save yon field of stars, + Here they stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; + And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist + For going on death's net, whom none resist. + +PERICLES Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath taught + My frail mortality to know itself, + And by those fearful objects to prepare + This body, like to them, to what I must; + For death remember'd should be like a mirror, + Who tells us life's but breath, to trust it error. + I'll make my will then, and, as sick men do + Who know the world, see heaven, but, feeling woe, + Gripe not at earthly joys as erst they did; + So I bequeath a happy peace to you + And all good men, as every prince should do; + My riches to the earth from whence they came; + But my unspotted fire of love to you. + + [To the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] + + Thus ready for the way of life or death, + I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus. + +ANTIOCHUS Scorning advice, read the conclusion then: + Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, + As these before thee thou thyself shalt bleed. + +Daughter Of all say'd yet, mayst thou prove prosperous! + Of all say'd yet, I wish thee happiness! + +PERICLES Like a bold champion, I assume the lists, + Nor ask advice of any other thought + But faithfulness and courage. + + [He reads the riddle] + + I am no viper, yet I feed + On mother's flesh which did me breed. + I sought a husband, in which labour + I found that kindness in a father: + He's father, son, and husband mild; + I mother, wife, and yet his child. + How they may be, and yet in two, + As you will live, resolve it you. + + Sharp physic is the last: but, O you powers + That give heaven countless eyes to view men's acts, + Why cloud they not their sights perpetually, + If this be true, which makes me pale to read it? + Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, + + [Takes hold of the hand of the Daughter of ANTIOCHUS] + + Were not this glorious casket stored with ill: + But I must tell you, now my thoughts revolt + For he's no man on whom perfections wait + That, knowing sin within, will touch the gate. + You are a fair viol, and your sense the strings; + Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music, + Would draw heaven down, and all the gods, to hearken: + But being play'd upon before your time, + Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime. + Good sooth, I care not for you. + +ANTIOCHUS Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy life. + For that's an article within our law, + As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired: + Either expound now, or receive your sentence. + +PERICLES Great king, + Few love to hear the sins they love to act; + 'Twould braid yourself too near for me to tell it. + Who has a book of all that monarchs do, + He's more secure to keep it shut than shown: + For vice repeated is like the wandering wind. + Blows dust in other's eyes, to spread itself; + And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, + The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear: + To stop the air would hurt them. The blind mole casts + Copp'd hills towards heaven, to tell the earth is throng'd + By man's oppression; and the poor worm doth die for't. + Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's + their will; + And if Jove stray, who dares say Jove doth ill? + It is enough you know; and it is fit, + What being more known grows worse, to smother it. + All love the womb that their first being bred, + Then give my tongue like leave to love my head. + +ANTIOCHUS [Aside] Heaven, that I had thy head! he has found + the meaning: + But I will gloze with him.--Young prince of Tyre, + Though by the tenor of our strict edict, + Your exposition misinterpreting, + We might proceed to cancel of your days; + Yet hope, succeeding from so fair a tree + As your fair self, doth tune us otherwise: + Forty days longer we do respite you; + If by which time our secret be undone, + This mercy shows we'll joy in such a son: + And until then your entertain shall be + As doth befit our honour and your worth. + + [Exeunt all but PERICLES] + +PERICLES How courtesy would seem to cover sin, + When what is done is like an hypocrite, + The which is good in nothing but in sight! + If it be true that I interpret false, + Then were it certain you were not so bad + As with foul incest to abuse your soul; + Where now you're both a father and a son, + By your untimely claspings with your child, + Which pleasure fits an husband, not a father; + And she an eater of her mother's flesh, + By the defiling of her parent's bed; + And both like serpents are, who though they feed + On sweetest flowers, yet they poison breed. + Antioch, farewell! for wisdom sees, those men + Blush not in actions blacker than the night, + Will shun no course to keep them from the light. + One sin, I know, another doth provoke; + Murder's as near to lust as flame to smoke: + Poison and treason are the hands of sin, + Ay, and the targets, to put off the shame: + Then, lest my lie be cropp'd to keep you clear, + By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter ANTIOCHUS] + +ANTIOCHUS He hath found the meaning, for which we mean + To have his head. + He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, + Nor tell the world Antiochus doth sin + In such a loathed manner; + And therefore instantly this prince must die: + For by his fall my honour must keep high. + Who attends us there? + + [Enter THALIARD] + +THALIARD Doth your highness call? + +ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, + You are of our chamber, and our mind partakes + Her private actions to your secrecy; + And for your faithfulness we will advance you. + Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's gold; + We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must kill him: + It fits thee not to ask the reason why, + Because we bid it. Say, is it done? + +THALIARD My lord, + 'Tis done. + +ANTIOCHUS Enough. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + Let your breath cool yourself, telling your haste. + +Messenger My lord, prince Pericles is fled. + + [Exit] + +ANTIOCHUS As thou + Wilt live, fly after: and like an arrow shot + From a well-experienced archer hits the mark + His eye doth level at, so thou ne'er return + Unless thou say 'Prince Pericles is dead.' + +THALIARD My lord, + If I can get him within my pistol's length, + I'll make him sure enough: so, farewell to your highness. + +ANTIOCHUS Thaliard, adieu! + + [Exit THALIARD] + + Till Pericles be dead, + My heart can lend no succor to my head. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Tyre. A room in the palace. + + + [Enter PERICLES] + +PERICLES [To Lords without] Let none disturb us.--Why should + this change of thoughts, + The sad companion, dull-eyed melancholy, + Be my so used a guest as not an hour, + In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, + The tomb where grief should sleep, can breed me quiet? + Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine eyes shun them, + And danger, which I fear'd, is at Antioch, + Whose aim seems far too short to hit me here: + Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, + Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. + Then it is thus: the passions of the mind, + That have their first conception by mis-dread, + Have after-nourishment and life by care; + And what was first but fear what might be done, + Grows elder now and cares it be not done. + And so with me: the great Antiochus, + 'Gainst whom I am too little to contend, + Since he's so great can make his will his act, + Will think me speaking, though I swear to silence; + Nor boots it me to say I honour him. + If he suspect I may dishonour him: + And what may make him blush in being known, + He'll stop the course by which it might be known; + With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land, + And with the ostent of war will look so huge, + Amazement shall drive courage from the state; + Our men be vanquish'd ere they do resist, + And subjects punish'd that ne'er thought offence: + Which care of them, not pity of myself, + Who am no more but as the tops of trees, + Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them, + Makes both my body pine and soul to languish, + And punish that before that he would punish. + + [Enter HELICANUS, with other Lords] + +First Lord Joy and all comfort in your sacred breast! + +Second Lord And keep your mind, till you return to us, + Peaceful and comfortable! + +HELICANUS Peace, peace, and give experience tongue. + They do abuse the king that flatter him: + For flattery is the bellows blows up sin; + The thing which is flatter'd, but a spark, + To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing; + Whereas reproof, obedient and in order, + Fits kings, as they are men, for they may err. + When Signior Sooth here does proclaim a peace, + He flatters you, makes war upon your life. + Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you please; + I cannot be much lower than my knees. + +PERICLES All leave us else; but let your cares o'erlook + What shipping and what lading's in our haven, + And then return to us. + + [Exeunt Lords] + + Helicanus, thou + Hast moved us: what seest thou in our looks? + +HELICANUS An angry brow, dread lord. + +PERICLES If there be such a dart in princes' frowns, + How durst thy tongue move anger to our face? + +HELICANUS How dare the plants look up to heaven, from whence + They have their nourishment? + +PERICLES Thou know'st I have power + To take thy life from thee. + +HELICANUS [Kneeling] + + I have ground the axe myself; + Do you but strike the blow. + +PERICLES Rise, prithee, rise. + Sit down: thou art no flatterer: + I thank thee for it; and heaven forbid + That kings should let their ears hear their + faults hid! + Fit counsellor and servant for a prince, + Who by thy wisdom makest a prince thy servant, + What wouldst thou have me do? + +HELICANUS To bear with patience + Such griefs as you yourself do lay upon yourself. + +PERICLES Thou speak'st like a physician, Helicanus, + That minister'st a potion unto me + That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. + Attend me, then: I went to Antioch, + Where as thou know'st, against the face of death, + I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty. + From whence an issue I might propagate, + Are arms to princes, and bring joys to subjects. + Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder; + The rest--hark in thine ear--as black as incest: + Which by my knowledge found, the sinful father + Seem'd not to strike, but smooth: but thou + know'st this, + 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss. + Such fear so grew in me, I hither fled, + Under the covering of a careful night, + Who seem'd my good protector; and, being here, + Bethought me what was past, what might succeed. + I knew him tyrannous; and tyrants' fears + Decrease not, but grow faster than the years: + And should he doubt it, as no doubt he doth, + That I should open to the listening air + How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, + To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, + To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms, + And make pretence of wrong that I have done him: + When all, for mine, if I may call offence, + Must feel war's blow, who spares not innocence: + Which love to all, of which thyself art one, + Who now reprovest me for it,-- + +HELICANUS Alas, sir! + +PERICLES Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood from my cheeks, + Musings into my mind, with thousand doubts + How I might stop this tempest ere it came; + And finding little comfort to relieve them, + I thought it princely charity to grieve them. + +HELICANUS Well, my lord, since you have given me leave to speak. + Freely will I speak. Antiochus you fear, + And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant, + Who either by public war or private treason + Will take away your life. + Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while, + Till that his rage and anger be forgot, + Or till the Destinies do cut his thread of life. + Your rule direct to any; if to me. + Day serves not light more faithful than I'll be. + +PERICLES I do not doubt thy faith; + But should he wrong my liberties in my absence? + +HELICANUS We'll mingle our bloods together in the earth, + From whence we had our being and our birth. + +PERICLES Tyre, I now look from thee then, and to Tarsus + Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; + And by whose letters I'll dispose myself. + The care I had and have of subjects' good + On thee I lay whose wisdom's strength can bear it. + I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath: + Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both: + But in our orbs we'll live so round and safe, + That time of both this truth shall ne'er convince, + Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III Tyre. An ante-chamber in the palace. + + + [Enter THALIARD] + +THALIARD So, this is Tyre, and this the court. Here must I + kill King Pericles; and if I do it not, I am sure to + be hanged at home: 'tis dangerous. Well, I perceive + he was a wise fellow, and had good discretion, that, + being bid to ask what he would of the king, desired + he might know none of his secrets: now do I see he + had some reason for't; for if a king bid a man be a + villain, he's bound by the indenture of his oath to + be one! Hush! here come the lords of Tyre. + + [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES, with other Lords of Tyre] + +HELICANUS You shall not need, my fellow peers of Tyre, + Further to question me of your king's departure: + His seal'd commission, left in trust with me, + Doth speak sufficiently he's gone to travel. + +THALIARD [Aside] How! the king gone! + +HELICANUS If further yet you will be satisfied, + Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, + He would depart, I'll give some light unto you. + Being at Antioch-- + +THALIARD [Aside] What from Antioch? + +HELICANUS Royal Antiochus--on what cause I know not-- + Took some displeasure at him; at least he judged so: + And doubting lest that he had err'd or sinn'd, + To show his sorrow, he'ld correct himself; + So puts himself unto the shipman's toil, + With whom each minute threatens life or death. + +THALIARD [Aside] Well, I perceive + I shall not be hang'd now, although I would; + But since he's gone, the king's seas must please: + He 'scaped the land, to perish at the sea. + I'll present myself. Peace to the lords of Tyre! + +HELICANUS Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is welcome. + +THALIARD From him I come + With message unto princely Pericles; + But since my landing I have understood + Your lord has betook himself to unknown travels, + My message must return from whence it came. + +HELICANUS We have no reason to desire it, + Commended to our master, not to us: + Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire, + As friends to Antioch, we may feast in Tyre. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Tarsus. A room in the Governor's house. + + + [Enter CLEON, the governor of Tarsus, with DIONYZA, + and others] + +CLEON My Dionyza, shall we rest us here, + And by relating tales of others' griefs, + See if 'twill teach us to forget our own? + +DIONYZA That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it; + For who digs hills because they do aspire + Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher. + O my distressed lord, even such our griefs are; + Here they're but felt, and seen with mischief's eyes, + But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher rise. + +CLEON O Dionyza, + Who wanteth food, and will not say he wants it, + Or can conceal his hunger till he famish? + Our tongues and sorrows do sound deep + Our woes into the air; our eyes do weep, + Till tongues fetch breath that may proclaim them louder; + That, if heaven slumber while their creatures want, + They may awake their helps to comfort them. + I'll then discourse our woes, felt several years, + And wanting breath to speak help me with tears. + +DIONYZA I'll do my best, sir. + +CLEON This Tarsus, o'er which I have the government, + A city on whom plenty held full hand, + For riches strew'd herself even in the streets; + Whose towers bore heads so high they kiss'd the clouds, + And strangers ne'er beheld but wondered at; + Whose men and dames so jetted and adorn'd, + Like one another's glass to trim them by: + Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight, + And not so much to feed on as delight; + All poverty was scorn'd, and pride so great, + The name of help grew odious to repeat. + +DIONYZA O, 'tis too true. + +CLEON But see what heaven can do! By this our change, + These mouths, who but of late, earth, sea, and air, + Were all too little to content and please, + Although they gave their creatures in abundance, + As houses are defiled for want of use, + They are now starved for want of exercise: + Those palates who, not yet two summers younger, + Must have inventions to delight the taste, + Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it: + Those mothers who, to nousle up their babes, + Thought nought too curious, are ready now + To eat those little darlings whom they loved. + So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife + Draw lots who first shall die to lengthen life: + Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping; + Here many sink, yet those which see them fall + Have scarce strength left to give them burial. + Is not this true? + +DIONYZA Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness it. + +CLEON O, let those cities that of plenty's cup + And her prosperities so largely taste, + With their superfluous riots, hear these tears! + The misery of Tarsus may be theirs. + + [Enter a Lord] + +Lord Where's the lord governor? + +CLEON Here. + Speak out thy sorrows which thou bring'st in haste, + For comfort is too far for us to expect. + +Lord We have descried, upon our neighbouring shore, + A portly sail of ships make hitherward. + +CLEON I thought as much. + One sorrow never comes but brings an heir, + That may succeed as his inheritor; + And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, + Taking advantage of our misery, + Hath stuff'd these hollow vessels with their power, + To beat us down, the which are down already; + And make a conquest of unhappy me, + Whereas no glory's got to overcome. + +Lord That's the least fear; for, by the semblance + Of their white flags display'd, they bring us peace, + And come to us as favourers, not as foes. + +CLEON Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to repeat: + Who makes the fairest show means most deceit. + But bring they what they will and what they can, + What need we fear? + The ground's the lowest, and we are half way there. + Go tell their general we attend him here, + To know for what he comes, and whence he comes, + And what he craves. + +Lord I go, my lord. + + [Exit] + +CLEON Welcome is peace, if he on peace consist; + If wars, we are unable to resist. + + [Enter PERICLES with Attendants] + +PERICLES Lord governor, for so we hear you are, + Let not our ships and number of our men + Be like a beacon fired to amaze your eyes. + We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, + And seen the desolation of your streets: + Nor come we to add sorrow to your tears, + But to relieve them of their heavy load; + And these our ships, you happily may think + Are like the Trojan horse was stuff'd within + With bloody veins, expecting overthrow, + Are stored with corn to make your needy bread, + And give them life whom hunger starved half dead. + +All The gods of Greece protect you! + And we'll pray for you. + +PERICLES Arise, I pray you, rise: + We do not look for reverence, but to love, + And harbourage for ourself, our ships, and men. + +CLEON The which when any shall not gratify, + Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought, + Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, + The curse of heaven and men succeed their evils! + Till when,--the which I hope shall ne'er be seen,-- + Your grace is welcome to our town and us. + +PERICLES Which welcome we'll accept; feast here awhile, + Until our stars that frown lend us a smile. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + [Enter GOWER] + +GOWER Here have you seen a mighty king + His child, I wis, to incest bring; + A better prince and benign lord, + That will prove awful both in deed and word. + Be quiet then as men should be, + Till he hath pass'd necessity. + I'll show you those in troubles reign, + Losing a mite, a mountain gain. + The good in conversation, + To whom I give my benison, + Is still at Tarsus, where each man + Thinks all is writ he speken can; + And, to remember what he does, + Build his statue to make him glorious: + But tidings to the contrary + Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? + + DUMB SHOW. + + [Enter at one door PERICLES talking with CLEON; all + the train with them. Enter at another door a + Gentleman, with a letter to PERICLES; PERICLES + shows the letter to CLEON; gives the Messenger a + reward, and knights him. Exit PERICLES at one + door, and CLEON at another] + + Good Helicane, that stay'd at home, + Not to eat honey like a drone + From others' labours; for though he strive + To killen bad, keep good alive; + And to fulfil his prince' desire, + Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: + How Thaliard came full bent with sin + And had intent to murder him; + And that in Tarsus was not best + Longer for him to make his rest. + He, doing so, put forth to seas, + Where when men been, there's seldom ease; + For now the wind begins to blow; + Thunder above and deeps below + Make such unquiet, that the ship + Should house him safe is wreck'd and split; + And he, good prince, having all lost, + By waves from coast to coast is tost: + All perishen of man, of pelf, + Ne aught escapen but himself; + Till fortune, tired with doing bad, + Threw him ashore, to give him glad: + And here he comes. What shall be next, + Pardon old Gower,--this longs the text. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Pentapolis. An open place by the sea-side. + + + [Enter PERICLES, wet] + +PERICLES Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! + Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly man + Is but a substance that must yield to you; + And I, as fits my nature, do obey you: + Alas, the sea hath cast me on the rocks, + Wash'd me from shore to shore, and left me breath + Nothing to think on but ensuing death: + Let it suffice the greatness of your powers + To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes; + And having thrown him from your watery grave, + Here to have death in peace is all he'll crave. + + [Enter three FISHERMEN] + +First Fisherman What, ho, Pilch! + +Second Fisherman Ha, come and bring away the nets! + +First Fisherman What, Patch-breech, I say! + +Third Fisherman What say you, master? + +First Fisherman Look how thou stirrest now! come away, or I'll + fetch thee with a wanion. + +Third Fisherman Faith, master, I am thinking of the poor men that + were cast away before us even now. + +First Fisherman Alas, poor souls, it grieved my heart to hear what + pitiful cries they made to us to help them, when, + well-a-day, we could scarce help ourselves. + +Third Fisherman Nay, master, said not I as much when I saw the + porpus how he bounced and tumbled? they say + they're half fish, half flesh: a plague on them, + they ne'er come but I look to be washed. Master, I + marvel how the fishes live in the sea. + +First Fisherman Why, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the + little ones: I can compare our rich misers to + nothing so fitly as to a whale; a' plays and + tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at + last devours them all at a mouthful: such whales + have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping + till they've swallowed the whole parish, church, + steeple, bells, and all. + +PERICLES [Aside] A pretty moral. + +Third Fisherman But, master, if I had been the sexton, I would have + been that day in the belfry. + +Second Fisherman Why, man? + +Third Fisherman Because he should have swallowed me too: and when I + had been in his belly, I would have kept such a + jangling of the bells, that he should never have + left, till he cast bells, steeple, church, and + parish up again. But if the good King Simonides + were of my mind,-- + +PERICLES [Aside] Simonides! + +Third Fisherman We would purge the land of these drones, that rob + the bee of her honey. + +PERICLES [Aside] How from the finny subject of the sea + These fishers tell the infirmities of men; + And from their watery empire recollect + All that may men approve or men detect! + Peace be at your labour, honest fishermen. + +Second Fisherman Honest! good fellow, what's that? If it be a day + fits you, search out of the calendar, and nobody + look after it. + +PERICLES May see the sea hath cast upon your coast. + +Second Fisherman What a drunken knave was the sea to cast thee in our + way! + +PERICLES A man whom both the waters and the wind, + In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball + For them to play upon, entreats you pity him: + He asks of you, that never used to beg. + +First Fisherman No, friend, cannot you beg? Here's them in our + country Greece gets more with begging than we can do + with working. + +Second Fisherman Canst thou catch any fishes, then? + +PERICLES I never practised it. + +Second Fisherman Nay, then thou wilt starve, sure; for here's nothing + to be got now-a-days, unless thou canst fish for't. + +PERICLES What I have been I have forgot to know; + But what I am, want teaches me to think on: + A man throng'd up with cold: my veins are chill, + And have no more of life than may suffice + To give my tongue that heat to ask your help; + Which if you shall refuse, when I am dead, + For that I am a man, pray see me buried. + +First Fisherman Die quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I have a gown here; + come, put it on; keep thee warm. Now, afore me, a + handsome fellow! Come, thou shalt go home, and + we'll have flesh for holidays, fish for + fasting-days, and moreo'er puddings and flap-jacks, + and thou shalt be welcome. + +PERICLES I thank you, sir. + +Second Fisherman Hark you, my friend; you said you could not beg. + +PERICLES I did but crave. + +Second Fisherman But crave! Then I'll turn craver too, and so I + shall 'scape whipping. + +PERICLES Why, are all your beggars whipped, then? + +Second Fisherman O, not all, my friend, not all; for if all your + beggars were whipped, I would wish no better office + than to be beadle. But, master, I'll go draw up the + net. + + [Exit with Third Fisherman] + +PERICLES [Aside] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour! + +First Fisherman Hark you, sir, do you know where ye are? + +PERICLES Not well. + +First Fisherman Why, I'll tell you: this is called Pentapolis, and + our king the good Simonides. + +PERICLES The good King Simonides, do you call him. + +First Fisherman Ay, sir; and he deserves so to be called for his + peaceable reign and good government. + +PERICLES He is a happy king, since he gains from his subjects + the name of good by his government. How far is his + court distant from this shore? + +First Fisherman Marry, sir, half a day's journey: and I'll tell + you, he hath a fair daughter, and to-morrow is her + birth-day; and there are princes and knights come + from all parts of the world to just and tourney for her love. + +PERICLES Were my fortunes equal to my desires, I could wish + to make one there. + +First Fisherman O, sir, things must be as they may; and what a man + cannot get, he may lawfully deal for--his wife's soul. + + [Re-enter Second and Third Fishermen, drawing up a net] + +Second Fisherman Help, master, help! here's a fish hangs in the net, + like a poor man's right in the law; 'twill hardly + come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis come at last, and + 'tis turned to a rusty armour. + +PERICLES An armour, friends! I pray you, let me see it. + Thanks, fortune, yet, that, after all my crosses, + Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself; + And though it was mine own, part of my heritage, + Which my dead father did bequeath to me. + With this strict charge, even as he left his life, + 'Keep it, my Pericles; it hath been a shield + Twixt me and death;'--and pointed to this brace;-- + 'For that it saved me, keep it; in like necessity-- + The which the gods protect thee from!--may + defend thee.' + It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it; + Till the rough seas, that spare not any man, + Took it in rage, though calm'd have given't again: + I thank thee for't: my shipwreck now's no ill, + Since I have here my father's gift in's will. + +First Fisherman What mean you, sir? + +PERICLES To beg of you, kind friends, this coat of worth, + For it was sometime target to a king; + I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly, + And for his sake I wish the having of it; + And that you'ld guide me to your sovereign's court, + Where with it I may appear a gentleman; + And if that ever my low fortune's better, + I'll pay your bounties; till then rest your debtor. + +First Fisherman Why, wilt thou tourney for the lady? + +PERICLES I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms. + +First Fisherman Why, do 'e take it, and the gods give thee good on't! + +Second Fisherman Ay, but hark you, my friend; 'twas we that made up + this garment through the rough seams of the waters: + there are certain condolements, certain vails. I + hope, sir, if you thrive, you'll remember from + whence you had it. + +PERICLES Believe 't, I will. + By your furtherance I am clothed in steel; + And, spite of all the rapture of the sea, + This jewel holds his building on my arm: + Unto thy value I will mount myself + Upon a courser, whose delightful steps + Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. + Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided + Of a pair of bases. + +Second Fisherman We'll sure provide: thou shalt have my best gown to + make thee a pair; and I'll bring thee to the court myself. + +PERICLES Then honour be but a goal to my will, + This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The same. A public way or platform leading to the + lists. A pavilion by the side of it for the + reception of King, Princess, Lords, &c. + + + [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, and Attendants] + +SIMONIDES Are the knights ready to begin the triumph? + +First Lord They are, my liege; + And stay your coming to present themselves. + +SIMONIDES Return them, we are ready; and our daughter, + In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, + Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat + For men to see, and seeing wonder at. + + [Exit a Lord] + +THAISA It pleaseth you, my royal father, to express + My commendations great, whose merit's less. + +SIMONIDES It's fit it should be so; for princes are + A model which heaven makes like to itself: + As jewels lose their glory if neglected, + So princes their renowns if not respected. + 'Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain + The labour of each knight in his device. + +THAISA Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll perform. + + [Enter a Knight; he passes over, and his Squire + presents his shield to the Princess] + +SIMONIDES Who is the first that doth prefer himself? + +THAISA A knight of Sparta, my renowned father; + And the device he bears upon his shield + Is a black Ethiope reaching at the sun + The word, 'Lux tua vita mihi.' + +SIMONIDES He loves you well that holds his life of you. + + [The Second Knight passes over] + + Who is the second that presents himself? + +THAISA A prince of Macedon, my royal father; + And the device he bears upon his shield + Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady; + The motto thus, in Spanish, 'Piu por dulzura que por fuerza.' + + [The Third Knight passes over] + +SIMONIDES And what's the third? + +THAISA The third of Antioch; + And his device, a wreath of chivalry; + The word, 'Me pompae provexit apex.' + + [The Fourth Knight passes over] + +SIMONIDES What is the fourth? + +THAISA A burning torch that's turned upside down; + The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.' + +SIMONIDES Which shows that beauty hath his power and will, + Which can as well inflame as it can kill. + + [The Fifth Knight passes over] + +THAISA The fifth, an hand environed with clouds, + Holding out gold that's by the touchstone tried; + The motto thus, 'Sic spectanda fides.' + + [The Sixth Knight, PERICLES, passes over] + +SIMONIDES And what's + The sixth and last, the which the knight himself + With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd? + +THAISA He seems to be a stranger; but his present is + A wither'd branch, that's only green at top; + The motto, 'In hac spe vivo.' + +SIMONIDES A pretty moral; + From the dejected state wherein he is, + He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. + +First Lord He had need mean better than his outward show + Can any way speak in his just commend; + For by his rusty outside he appears + To have practised more the whipstock than the lance. + +Second Lord He well may be a stranger, for he comes + To an honour'd triumph strangely furnished. + +Third Lord And on set purpose let his armour rust + Until this day, to scour it in the dust. + +SIMONIDES Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan + The outward habit by the inward man. + But stay, the knights are coming: we will withdraw + Into the gallery. + + [Exeunt] + + [Great shouts within and all cry 'The mean knight!'] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. A hall of state: a banquet prepared. + + + [Enter SIMONIDES, THAISA, Lords, Attendants, and + Knights, from tilting] + +SIMONIDES Knights, + To say you're welcome were superfluous. + To place upon the volume of your deeds, + As in a title-page, your worth in arms, + Were more than you expect, or more than's fit, + Since every worth in show commends itself. + Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast: + You are princes and my guests. + +THAISA But you, my knight and guest; + To whom this wreath of victory I give, + And crown you king of this day's happiness. + +PERICLES 'Tis more by fortune, lady, than by merit. + +SIMONIDES Call it by what you will, the day is yours; + And here, I hope, is none that envies it. + In framing an artist, art hath thus decreed, + To make some good, but others to exceed; + And you are her labour'd scholar. Come, queen o' + the feast,-- + For, daughter, so you are,--here take your place: + Marshal the rest, as they deserve their grace. + +KNIGHTS We are honour'd much by good Simonides. + +SIMONIDES Your presence glads our days: honour we love; + For who hates honour hates the gods above. + +Marshal Sir, yonder is your place. + +PERICLES Some other is more fit. + +First Knight Contend not, sir; for we are gentlemen + That neither in our hearts nor outward eyes + Envy the great nor do the low despise. + +PERICLES You are right courteous knights. + +SIMONIDES Sit, sir, sit. + +PERICLES By Jove, I wonder, that is king of thoughts, + These cates resist me, she but thought upon. + +THAISA By Juno, that is queen of marriage, + All viands that I eat do seem unsavoury. + Wishing him my meat. Sure, he's a gallant gentleman. + +SIMONIDES He's but a country gentleman; + Has done no more than other knights have done; + Has broken a staff or so; so let it pass. + +THAISA To me he seems like diamond to glass. + +PERICLES Yon king's to me like to my father's picture, + Which tells me in that glory once he was; + Had princes sit, like stars, about his throne, + And he the sun, for them to reverence; + None that beheld him, but, like lesser lights, + Did vail their crowns to his supremacy: + Where now his son's like a glow-worm in the night, + The which hath fire in darkness, none in light: + Whereby I see that Time's the king of men, + He's both their parent, and he is their grave, + And gives them what he will, not what they crave. + +SIMONIDES What, are you merry, knights? + +Knights Who can be other in this royal presence? + +SIMONIDES Here, with a cup that's stored unto the brim,-- + As you do love, fill to your mistress' lips,-- + We drink this health to you. + +KNIGHTS We thank your grace. + +SIMONIDES Yet pause awhile: + Yon knight doth sit too melancholy, + As if the entertainment in our court + Had not a show might countervail his worth. + Note it not you, Thaisa? + +THAISA What is it + To me, my father? + +SIMONIDES O, attend, my daughter: + Princes in this should live like gods above, + Who freely give to every one that comes + To honour them: + And princes not doing so are like to gnats, + Which make a sound, but kill'd are wonder'd at. + Therefore to make his entrance more sweet, + Here, say we drink this standing-bowl of wine to him. + +THAISA Alas, my father, it befits not me + Unto a stranger knight to be so bold: + He may my proffer take for an offence, + Since men take women's gifts for impudence. + +SIMONIDES How! + Do as I bid you, or you'll move me else. + +THAISA [Aside] Now, by the gods, he could not please me better. + +SIMONIDES And furthermore tell him, we desire to know of him, + Of whence he is, his name and parentage. + +THAISA The king my father, sir, has drunk to you. + +PERICLES I thank him. + +THAISA Wishing it so much blood unto your life. + +PERICLES I thank both him and you, and pledge him freely. + +THAISA And further he desires to know of you, + Of whence you are, your name and parentage. + +PERICLES A gentleman of Tyre; my name, Pericles; + My education been in arts and arms; + Who, looking for adventures in the world, + Was by the rough seas reft of ships and men, + And after shipwreck driven upon this shore. + +THAISA He thanks your grace; names himself Pericles, + A gentleman of Tyre, + Who only by misfortune of the seas + Bereft of ships and men, cast on this shore. + +SIMONIDES Now, by the gods, I pity his misfortune, + And will awake him from his melancholy. + Come, gentlemen, we sit too long on trifles, + And waste the time, which looks for other revels. + Even in your armours, as you are address'd, + Will very well become a soldier's dance. + I will not have excuse, with saying this + Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads, + Since they love men in arms as well as beds. + + [The Knights dance] + + So, this was well ask'd,'twas so well perform'd. + Come, sir; + Here is a lady that wants breathing too: + And I have heard, you knights of Tyre + Are excellent in making ladies trip; + And that their measures are as excellent. + +PERICLES In those that practise them they are, my lord. + +SIMONIDES O, that's as much as you would be denied + Of your fair courtesy. + + [The Knights and Ladies dance] + + Unclasp, unclasp: + Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well. + + [To PERICLES] + + But you the best. Pages and lights, to conduct + These knights unto their several lodgings! + + [To PERICLES] + + Yours, sir, + We have given order to be next our own. + +PERICLES I am at your grace's pleasure. + +SIMONIDES Princes, it is too late to talk of love; + And that's the mark I know you level at: + Therefore each one betake him to his rest; + To-morrow all for speeding do their best. + + [Exeunt] + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Tyre. A room in the Governor's house. + + + [Enter HELICANUS and ESCANES] + +HELICANUS No, Escanes, know this of me, + Antiochus from incest lived not free: + For which, the most high gods not minding longer + To withhold the vengeance that they had in store, + Due to this heinous capital offence, + Even in the height and pride of all his glory, + When he was seated in a chariot + Of an inestimable value, and his daughter with him, + A fire from heaven came and shrivell'd up + Their bodies, even to loathing; for they so stunk, + That all those eyes adored them ere their fall + Scorn now their hand should give them burial. + +ESCANES 'Twas very strange. + +HELICANUS And yet but justice; for though + This king were great, his greatness was no guard + To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. + +ESCANES 'Tis very true. + + [Enter two or three Lords] + +First Lord See, not a man in private conference + Or council has respect with him but he. + +Second Lord It shall no longer grieve without reproof. + +Third Lord And cursed be he that will not second it. + +First Lord Follow me, then. Lord Helicane, a word. + +HELICANUS With me? and welcome: happy day, my lords. + +First Lord Know that our griefs are risen to the top, + And now at length they overflow their banks. + +HELICANUS Your griefs! for what? wrong not your prince you love. + +First Lord Wrong not yourself, then, noble Helicane; + But if the prince do live, let us salute him, + Or know what ground's made happy by his breath. + If in the world he live, we'll seek him out; + If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there; + And be resolved he lives to govern us, + Or dead, give's cause to mourn his funeral, + And leave us to our free election. + +Second Lord Whose death indeed's the strongest in our censure: + And knowing this kingdom is without a head,-- + Like goodly buildings left without a roof + Soon fall to ruin,--your noble self, + That best know how to rule and how to reign, + We thus submit unto,--our sovereign. + +All Live, noble Helicane! + +HELICANUS For honour's cause, forbear your suffrages: + If that you love Prince Pericles, forbear. + Take I your wish, I leap into the seas, + Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease. + A twelvemonth longer, let me entreat you to + Forbear the absence of your king: + If in which time expired, he not return, + I shall with aged patience bear your yoke. + But if I cannot win you to this love, + Go search like nobles, like noble subjects, + And in your search spend your adventurous worth; + Whom if you find, and win unto return, + You shall like diamonds sit about his crown. + +First Lord To wisdom he's a fool that will not yield; + And since Lord Helicane enjoineth us, + We with our travels will endeavour us. + +HELICANUS Then you love us, we you, and we'll clasp hands: + When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stands. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Pentapolis. A room in the palace. + + + [Enter SIMONIDES, reading a letter, at one door: + the Knights meet him] + +First Knight Good morrow to the good Simonides. + +SIMONIDES Knights, from my daughter this I let you know, + That for this twelvemonth she'll not undertake + A married life. + Her reason to herself is only known, + Which yet from her by no means can I get. + +Second Knight May we not get access to her, my lord? + +SIMONIDES 'Faith, by no means; she has so strictly tied + Her to her chamber, that 'tis impossible. + One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana's livery; + This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd + And on her virgin honour will not break it. + +Third Knight Loath to bid farewell, we take our leaves. + + [Exeunt Knights] + +SIMONIDES So, + They are well dispatch'd; now to my daughter's letter: + She tells me here, she'd wed the stranger knight, + Or never more to view nor day nor light. + 'Tis well, mistress; your choice agrees with mine; + I like that well: nay, how absolute she's in't, + Not minding whether I dislike or no! + Well, I do commend her choice; + And will no longer have it be delay'd. + Soft! here he comes: I must dissemble it. + + [Enter PERICLES] + +PERICLES All fortune to the good Simonides! + +SIMONIDES To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you + For your sweet music this last night: I do + Protest my ears were never better fed + With such delightful pleasing harmony. + +PERICLES It is your grace's pleasure to commend; + Not my desert. + +SIMONIDES Sir, you are music's master. + +PERICLES The worst of all her scholars, my good lord. + +SIMONIDES Let me ask you one thing: + What do you think of my daughter, sir? + +PERICLES A most virtuous princess. + +SIMONIDES And she is fair too, is she not? + +PERICLES As a fair day in summer, wondrous fair. + +SIMONIDES Sir, my daughter thinks very well of you; + Ay, so well, that you must be her master, + And she will be your scholar: therefore look to it. + +PERICLES I am unworthy for her schoolmaster. + +SIMONIDES She thinks not so; peruse this writing else. + +PERICLES [Aside] What's here? + A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre! + 'Tis the king's subtlety to have my life. + O, seek not to entrap me, gracious lord, + A stranger and distressed gentleman, + That never aim'd so high to love your daughter, + But bent all offices to honour her. + +SIMONIDES Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and thou art + A villain. + +PERICLES By the gods, I have not: + Never did thought of mine levy offence; + Nor never did my actions yet commence + A deed might gain her love or your displeasure. + +SIMONIDES Traitor, thou liest. + +PERICLES Traitor! + +SIMONIDES Ay, traitor. + +PERICLES Even in his throat--unless it be the king-- + That calls me traitor, I return the lie. + +SIMONIDES [Aside] Now, by the gods, I do applaud his courage. + +PERICLES My actions are as noble as my thoughts, + That never relish'd of a base descent. + I came unto your court for honour's cause, + And not to be a rebel to her state; + And he that otherwise accounts of me, + This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy. + +SIMONIDES No? + Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. + + [Enter THAISA] + +PERICLES Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, + Resolve your angry father, if my tongue + Did ere solicit, or my hand subscribe + To any syllable that made love to you. + +THAISA Why, sir, say if you had, + Who takes offence at that would make me glad? + +SIMONIDES Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory? + + [Aside] + + I am glad on't with all my heart.-- + I'll tame you; I'll bring you in subjection. + Will you, not having my consent, + Bestow your love and your affections + Upon a stranger? + + [Aside] + + who, for aught I know, + May be, nor can I think the contrary, + As great in blood as I myself.-- + Therefore hear you, mistress; either frame + Your will to mine,--and you, sir, hear you, + Either be ruled by me, or I will make you-- + Man and wife: + Nay, come, your hands and lips must seal it too: + And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy; + And for a further grief,--God give you joy!-- + What, are you both pleased? + +THAISA Yes, if you love me, sir. + +PERICLES Even as my life, or blood that fosters it. + +SIMONIDES What, are you both agreed? + +BOTH Yes, if it please your majesty. + +SIMONIDES It pleaseth me so well, that I will see you wed; + And then with what haste you can get you to bed. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT III + + + [Enter GOWER] + +GOWER Now sleep y-slaked hath the rout; + No din but snores the house about, + Made louder by the o'er-fed breast + Of this most pompous marriage-feast. + The cat, with eyne of burning coal, + Now crouches fore the mouse's hole; + And crickets sing at the oven's mouth, + E'er the blither for their drouth. + Hymen hath brought the bride to bed. + Where, by the loss of maidenhead, + A babe is moulded. Be attent, + And time that is so briefly spent + With your fine fancies quaintly eche: + What's dumb in show I'll plain with speech. + + DUMB SHOW. + + [Enter, PERICLES and SIMONIDES at one door, with + Attendants; a Messenger meets them, kneels, and + gives PERICLES a letter: PERICLES shows it + SIMONIDES; the Lords kneel to him. Then enter + THAISA with child, with LYCHORIDA a nurse. The + KING shows her the letter; she rejoices: she and + PERICLES takes leave of her father, and depart with + LYCHORIDA and their Attendants. Then exeunt + SIMONIDES and the rest] + + By many a dern and painful perch + Of Pericles the careful search, + By the four opposing coigns + Which the world together joins, + Is made with all due diligence + That horse and sail and high expense + Can stead the quest. At last from Tyre, + Fame answering the most strange inquire, + To the court of King Simonides + Are letters brought, the tenor these: + Antiochus and his daughter dead; + The men of Tyrus on the head + Of Helicanus would set on + The crown of Tyre, but he will none: + The mutiny he there hastes t' oppress; + Says to 'em, if King Pericles + Come not home in twice six moons, + He, obedient to their dooms, + Will take the crown. The sum of this, + Brought hither to Pentapolis, + Y-ravished the regions round, + And every one with claps can sound, + 'Our heir-apparent is a king! + Who dream'd, who thought of such a thing?' + Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre: + His queen with child makes her desire-- + Which who shall cross?--along to go: + Omit we all their dole and woe: + Lychorida, her nurse, she takes, + And so to sea. Their vessel shakes + On Neptune's billow; half the flood + Hath their keel cut: but fortune's mood + Varies again; the grisly north + Disgorges such a tempest forth, + That, as a duck for life that dives, + So up and down the poor ship drives: + The lady shrieks, and well-a-near + Does fall in travail with her fear: + And what ensues in this fell storm + Shall for itself itself perform. + I nill relate, action may + Conveniently the rest convey; + Which might not what by me is told. + In your imagination hold + This stage the ship, upon whose deck + The sea-tost Pericles appears to speak. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I: + + + [Enter PERICLES, on shipboard] + +PERICLES Thou god of this great vast, rebuke these surges, + Which wash both heaven and hell; and thou, that hast + Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, + Having call'd them from the deep! O, still + Thy deafening, dreadful thunders; gently quench + Thy nimble, sulphurous flashes! O, how, Lychorida, + How does my queen? Thou stormest venomously; + Wilt thou spit all thyself? The seaman's whistle + Is as a whisper in the ears of death, + Unheard. Lychorida!--Lucina, O + Divinest patroness, and midwife gentle + To those that cry by night, convey thy deity + Aboard our dancing boat; make swift the pangs + Of my queen's travails! + + [Enter LYCHORIDA, with an Infant] + + Now, Lychorida! + +LYCHORIDA Here is a thing too young for such a place, + Who, if it had conceit, would die, as I + Am like to do: take in your arms this piece + Of your dead queen. + +PERICLES How, how, Lychorida! + +LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir; do not assist the storm. + Here's all that is left living of your queen, + A little daughter: for the sake of it, + Be manly, and take comfort. + +PERICLES O you gods! + Why do you make us love your goodly gifts, + And snatch them straight away? We here below + Recall not what we give, and therein may + Use honour with you. + +LYCHORIDA Patience, good sir, + Even for this charge. + +PERICLES Now, mild may be thy life! + For a more blustrous birth had never babe: + Quiet and gentle thy conditions! for + Thou art the rudeliest welcome to this world + That ever was prince's child. Happy what follows! + Thou hast as chiding a nativity + As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, + To herald thee from the womb: even at the first + Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, + With all thou canst find here. Now, the good gods + Throw their best eyes upon't! + + [Enter two Sailors] + +First Sailor What courage, sir? God save you! + +PERICLES Courage enough: I do not fear the flaw; + It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love + Of this poor infant, this fresh-new sea-farer, + I would it would be quiet. + +First Sailor Slack the bolins there! Thou wilt not, wilt thou? + Blow, and split thyself. + +Second Sailor But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss + the moon, I care not. + +First Sailor Sir, your queen must overboard: the sea works high, + the wind is loud, and will not lie till the ship be + cleared of the dead. + +PERICLES That's your superstition. + +First Sailor Pardon us, sir; with us at sea it hath been still + observed: and we are strong in custom. Therefore + briefly yield her; for she must overboard straight. + +PERICLES As you think meet. Most wretched queen! + +LYCHORIDA Here she lies, sir. + +PERICLES A terrible childbed hast thou had, my dear; + No light, no fire: the unfriendly elements + Forgot thee utterly: nor have I time + To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight + Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; + Where, for a monument upon thy bones, + And e'er-remaining lamps, the belching whale + And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, + Lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, + Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink and paper, + My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander + Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe + Upon the pillow: hie thee, whiles I say + A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. + + [Exit LYCHORIDA] + +Second Sailor Sir, we have a chest beneath the hatches, caulked + and bitumed ready. + +PERICLES I thank thee. Mariner, say what coast is this? + +Second Sailor We are near Tarsus. + +PERICLES Thither, gentle mariner. + Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou reach it? + +Second Sailor By break of day, if the wind cease. + +PERICLES O, make for Tarsus! + There will I visit Cleon, for the babe + Cannot hold out to Tyrus: there I'll leave it + At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good mariner: + I'll bring the body presently. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. + + + [Enter CERIMON, with a Servant, and some Persons who + have been shipwrecked] + +CERIMON Philemon, ho! + + [Enter PHILEMON] + +PHILEMON Doth my lord call? + +CERIMON Get fire and meat for these poor men: + 'T has been a turbulent and stormy night. + +Servant I have been in many; but such a night as this, + Till now, I ne'er endured. + +CERIMON Your master will be dead ere you return; + There's nothing can be minister'd to nature + That can recover him. + + [To PHILEMON] + + Give this to the 'pothecary, + And tell me how it works. + + [Exeunt all but CERIMON] + + [Enter two Gentlemen] + +First Gentleman Good morrow. + +Second Gentleman Good morrow to your lordship. + +CERIMON Gentlemen, + Why do you stir so early? + +First Gentleman Sir, + Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea, + Shook as the earth did quake; + The very principals did seem to rend, + And all-to topple: pure surprise and fear + Made me to quit the house. + +Second Gentleman That is the cause we trouble you so early; + 'Tis not our husbandry. + +CERIMON O, you say well. + +First Gentleman But I much marvel that your lordship, having + Rich tire about you, should at these early hours + Shake off the golden slumber of repose. + 'Tis most strange, + Nature should be so conversant with pain, + Being thereto not compell'd. + +CERIMON I hold it ever, + Virtue and cunning were endowments greater + Than nobleness and riches: careless heirs + May the two latter darken and expend; + But immortality attends the former. + Making a man a god. 'Tis known, I ever + Have studied physic, through which secret art, + By turning o'er authorities, I have, + Together with my practise, made familiar + To me and to my aid the blest infusions + That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; + And I can speak of the disturbances + That nature works, and of her cures; which doth give me + A more content in course of true delight + Than to be thirsty after tottering honour, + Or tie my treasure up in silken bags, + To please the fool and death. + +Second Gentleman Your honour has through Ephesus pour'd forth + Your charity, and hundreds call themselves + Your creatures, who by you have been restored: + And not your knowledge, your personal pain, but even + Your purse, still open, hath built Lord Cerimon + Such strong renown as time shall ne'er decay. + + [Enter two or three Servants with a chest] + +First Servant So; lift there. + +CERIMON What is that? + +First Servant Sir, even now + Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest: + 'Tis of some wreck. + +CERIMON Set 't down, let's look upon't. + +Second Gentleman 'Tis like a coffin, sir. + +CERIMON Whate'er it be, + 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight: + If the sea's stomach be o'ercharged with gold, + 'Tis a good constraint of fortune it belches upon us. + +Second Gentleman 'Tis so, my lord. + +CERIMON How close 'tis caulk'd and bitumed! + Did the sea cast it up? + +First Servant I never saw so huge a billow, sir, + As toss'd it upon shore. + +CERIMON Wrench it open; + Soft! it smells most sweetly in my sense. + +Second Gentleman A delicate odour. + +CERIMON As ever hit my nostril. So, up with it. + O you most potent gods! what's here? a corse! + +First Gentleman Most strange! + +CERIMON Shrouded in cloth of state; balm'd and entreasured + With full bags of spices! A passport too! + Apollo, perfect me in the characters! + + [Reads from a scroll] + + 'Here I give to understand, + If e'er this coffin drive a-land, + I, King Pericles, have lost + This queen, worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a king: + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!' + + If thou livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart + That even cracks for woe! This chanced tonight. + +Second Gentleman Most likely, sir. + +CERIMON Nay, certainly to-night; + For look how fresh she looks! They were too rough + That threw her in the sea. Make a fire within: + Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet. + + [Exit a Servant] + + Death may usurp on nature many hours, + And yet the fire of life kindle again + The o'erpress'd spirits. I heard of an Egyptian + That had nine hours lien dead, + Who was by good appliance recovered. + + [Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire] + + Well said, well said; the fire and cloths. + The rough and woeful music that we have, + Cause it to sound, beseech you. + The viol once more: how thou stirr'st, thou block! + The music there!--I pray you, give her air. + Gentlemen. + This queen will live: nature awakes; a warmth + Breathes out of her: she hath not been entranced + Above five hours: see how she gins to blow + Into life's flower again! + +First Gentleman The heavens, + Through you, increase our wonder and set up + Your fame forever. + +CERIMON She is alive; behold, + Her eyelids, cases to those heavenly jewels + Which Pericles hath lost, + Begin to part their fringes of bright gold; + The diamonds of a most praised water + Do appear, to make the world twice rich. Live, + And make us weep to hear your fate, fair creature, + Rare as you seem to be. + + [She moves] + +THAISA O dear Diana, + Where am I? Where's my lord? What world is this? + +Second Gentleman Is not this strange? + +First Gentleman Most rare. + +CERIMON Hush, my gentle neighbours! + Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her. + Get linen: now this matter must be look'd to, + For her relapse is mortal. Come, come; + And AEsculapius guide us! + + [Exeunt, carrying her away] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. + + + [Enter PERICLES, CLEON, DIONYZA, and LYCHORIDA with + MARINA in her arms] + +PERICLES Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs be gone; + My twelve months are expired, and Tyrus stands + In a litigious peace. You, and your lady, + Take from my heart all thankfulness! The gods + Make up the rest upon you! + +CLEON Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt you mortally, + Yet glance full wanderingly on us. + +DIONYZA O your sweet queen! + That the strict fates had pleased you had brought her hither, + To have bless'd mine eyes with her! + +PERICLES We cannot but obey + The powers above us. Could I rage and roar + As doth the sea she lies in, yet the end + Must be as 'tis. My gentle babe Marina, whom, + For she was born at sea, I have named so, here + I charge your charity withal, leaving her + The infant of your care; beseeching you + To give her princely training, that she may be + Manner'd as she is born. + +CLEON Fear not, my lord, but think + Your grace, that fed my country with your corn, + For which the people's prayers still fall upon you, + Must in your child be thought on. If neglection + Should therein make me vile, the common body, + By you relieved, would force me to my duty: + But if to that my nature need a spur, + The gods revenge it upon me and mine, + To the end of generation! + +PERICLES I believe you; + Your honour and your goodness teach me to't, + Without your vows. Till she be married, madam, + By bright Diana, whom we honour, all + Unscissor'd shall this hair of mine remain, + Though I show ill in't. So I take my leave. + Good madam, make me blessed in your care + In bringing up my child. + +DIONYZA I have one myself, + Who shall not be more dear to my respect + Than yours, my lord. + +PERICLES Madam, my thanks and prayers. + +CLEON We'll bring your grace e'en to the edge o' the shore, + Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune and + The gentlest winds of heaven. + +PERICLES I will embrace + Your offer. Come, dearest madam. O, no tears, + Lychorida, no tears: + Look to your little mistress, on whose grace + You may depend hereafter. Come, my lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Ephesus. A room in CERIMON's house. + + + [Enter CERIMON and THAISA] + +CERIMON Madam, this letter, and some certain jewels, + Lay with you in your coffer: which are now + At your command. Know you the character? + +THAISA It is my lord's. + That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember, + Even on my eaning time; but whether there + Deliver'd, by the holy gods, + I cannot rightly say. But since King Pericles, + My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, + A vestal livery will I take me to, + And never more have joy. + +CERIMON Madam, if this you purpose as ye speak, + Diana's temple is not distant far, + Where you may abide till your date expire. + Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine + Shall there attend you. + +THAISA My recompense is thanks, that's all; + Yet my good will is great, though the gift small. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + [Enter GOWER] + +GOWER Imagine Pericles arrived at Tyre, + Welcomed and settled to his own desire. + His woeful queen we leave at Ephesus, + Unto Diana there a votaress. + Now to Marina bend your mind, + Whom our fast-growing scene must find + At Tarsus, and by Cleon train'd + In music, letters; who hath gain'd + Of education all the grace, + Which makes her both the heart and place + Of general wonder. But, alack, + That monster envy, oft the wrack + Of earned praise, Marina's life + Seeks to take off by treason's knife. + And in this kind hath our Cleon + One daughter, and a wench full grown, + Even ripe for marriage-rite; this maid + Hight Philoten: and it is said + For certain in our story, she + Would ever with Marina be: + Be't when she weaved the sleided silk + With fingers long, small, white as milk; + Or when she would with sharp needle wound + The cambric, which she made more sound + By hurting it; or when to the lute + She sung, and made the night-bird mute, + That still records with moan; or when + She would with rich and constant pen + Vail to her mistress Dian; still + This Philoten contends in skill + With absolute Marina: so + With the dove of Paphos might the crow + Vie feathers white. Marina gets + All praises, which are paid as debts, + And not as given. This so darks + In Philoten all graceful marks, + That Cleon's wife, with envy rare, + A present murderer does prepare + For good Marina, that her daughter + Might stand peerless by this slaughter. + The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, + Lychorida, our nurse, is dead: + And cursed Dionyza hath + The pregnant instrument of wrath + Prest for this blow. The unborn event + I do commend to your content: + Only I carry winged time + Post on the lame feet of my rhyme; + Which never could I so convey, + Unless your thoughts went on my way. + Dionyza does appear, + With Leonine, a murderer. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Tarsus. An open place near the sea-shore. + + + [Enter DIONYZA and LEONINE] + +DIONYZA Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do't: + 'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known. + Thou canst not do a thing in the world so soon, + To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience, + Which is but cold, inflaming love i' thy bosom, + Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which + Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be + A soldier to thy purpose. + +LEONINE I will do't; but yet she is a goodly creature. + +DIONYZA The fitter, then, the gods should have her. Here + she comes weeping for her only mistress' death. + Thou art resolved? + +LEONINE I am resolved. + + [Enter MARINA, with a basket of flowers] + +MARINA No, I will rob Tellus of her weed, + To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, + The purple violets, and marigolds, + Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave, + While summer-days do last. Ay me! poor maid, + Born in a tempest, when my mother died, + This world to me is like a lasting storm, + Whirring me from my friends. + +DIONYZA How now, Marina! why do you keep alone? + How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not + Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have + A nurse of me. Lord, how your favour's changed + With this unprofitable woe! + Come, give me your flowers, ere the sea mar it. + Walk with Leonine; the air is quick there, + And it pierces and sharpens the stomach. Come, + Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. + +MARINA No, I pray you; + I'll not bereave you of your servant. + +DIONYZA Come, come; + I love the king your father, and yourself, + With more than foreign heart. We every day + Expect him here: when he shall come and find + Our paragon to all reports thus blasted, + He will repent the breadth of his great voyage; + Blame both my lord and me, that we have taken + No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you, + Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve + That excellent complexion, which did steal + The eyes of young and old. Care not for me + I can go home alone. + +MARINA Well, I will go; + But yet I have no desire to it. + +DIONYZA Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. + Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least: + Remember what I have said. + +LEONINE I warrant you, madam. + +DIONYZA I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while: + Pray, walk softly, do not heat your blood: + What! I must have a care of you. + +MARINA My thanks, sweet madam. + + [Exit DIONYZA] + + Is this wind westerly that blows? + +LEONINE South-west. + +MARINA When I was born, the wind was north. + +LEONINE Was't so? + +MARINA My father, as nurse said, did never fear, + But cried 'Good seaman!' to the sailors, galling + His kingly hands, haling ropes; + And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea + That almost burst the deck. + +LEONINE When was this? + +MARINA When I was born: + Never was waves nor wind more violent; + And from the ladder-tackle washes off + A canvas-climber. 'Ha!' says one, 'wilt out?' + And with a dropping industry they skip + From stem to stern: the boatswain whistles, and + The master calls, and trebles their confusion. + +LEONINE Come, say your prayers. + +MARINA What mean you? + +LEONINE If you require a little space for prayer, + I grant it: pray; but be not tedious, + For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn + To do my work with haste. + +MARINA Why will you kill me? + +LEONINE To satisfy my lady. + +MARINA Why would she have me kill'd? + Now, as I can remember, by my troth, + I never did her hurt in all my life: + I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn + To any living creature: believe me, la, + I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly: + I trod upon a worm against my will, + But I wept for it. How have I offended, + Wherein my death might yield her any profit, + Or my life imply her any danger? + +LEONINE My commission + Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. + +MARINA You will not do't for all the world, I hope. + You are well favour'd, and your looks foreshow + You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately, + When you caught hurt in parting two that fought: + Good sooth, it show'd well in you: do so now: + Your lady seeks my life; come you between, + And save poor me, the weaker. + +LEONINE I am sworn, + And will dispatch. + + [He seizes her] + + [Enter Pirates] + +First Pirate Hold, villain! + + [LEONINE runs away] + +Second Pirate A prize! a prize! + +Third Pirate Half-part, mates, half-part. + Come, let's have her aboard suddenly. + + [Exeunt Pirates with MARINA] + + [Re-enter LEONINE] + +LEONINE These roguing thieves serve the great pirate Valdes; + And they have seized Marina. Let her go: + There's no hope she will return. I'll swear + she's dead, + And thrown into the sea. But I'll see further: + Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her, + Not carry her aboard. If she remain, + Whom they have ravish'd must by me be slain. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Mytilene. A room in a brothel. + + + [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] + +Pandar Boult! + +BOULT Sir? + +Pandar Search the market narrowly; Mytilene is full of + gallants. We lost too much money this mart by being + too wenchless. + +Bawd We were never so much out of creatures. We have but + poor three, and they can do no more than they can + do; and they with continual action are even as good as rotten. + +Pandar Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for + them. If there be not a conscience to be used in + every trade, we shall never prosper. + +Bawd Thou sayest true: 'tis not our bringing up of poor + bastards,--as, I think, I have brought up some eleven-- + +BOULT Ay, to eleven; and brought them down again. But + shall I search the market? + +Bawd What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind + will blow it to pieces, they are so pitifully sodden. + +Pandar Thou sayest true; they're too unwholesome, o' + conscience. The poor Transylvanian is dead, that + lay with the little baggage. + +BOULT Ay, she quickly pooped him; she made him roast-meat + for worms. But I'll go search the market. + + [Exit] + +Pandar Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a + proportion to live quietly, and so give over. + +Bawd Why to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get + when we are old? + +Pandar O, our credit comes not in like the commodity, nor + the commodity wages not with the danger: therefore, + if in our youths we could pick up some pretty + estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. + Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods + will be strong with us for giving over. + +Bawd Come, other sorts offend as well as we. + +Pandar As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. + Neither is our profession any trade; it's no + calling. But here comes Boult. + + [Re-enter BOULT, with the Pirates and MARINA] + +BOULT [To MARINA] Come your ways. My masters, you say + she's a virgin? + +First Pirate O, sir, we doubt it not. + +BOULT Master, I have gone through for this piece, you see: + if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest. + +Bawd Boult, has she any qualities? + +BOULT She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent + good clothes: there's no further necessity of + qualities can make her be refused. + +Bawd What's her price, Boult? + +BOULT I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces. + +Pandar Well, follow me, my masters, you shall have your + money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her + what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her + entertainment. + + [Exeunt Pandar and Pirates] + +Bawd Boult, take you the marks of her, the colour of her + hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her + virginity; and cry 'He that will give most shall + have her first.' Such a maidenhead were no cheap + thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done + as I command you. + +BOULT Performance shall follow. + + [Exit] + +MARINA Alack that Leonine was so slack, so slow! + He should have struck, not spoke; or that these pirates, + Not enough barbarous, had not o'erboard thrown me + For to seek my mother! + +Bawd Why lament you, pretty one? + +MARINA That I am pretty. + +Bawd Come, the gods have done their part in you. + +MARINA I accuse them not. + +Bawd You are light into my hands, where you are like to live. + +MARINA The more my fault + To scape his hands where I was like to die. + +Bawd Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. + +MARINA No. + +Bawd Yes, indeed shall you, and taste gentlemen of all + fashions: you shall fare well; you shall have the + difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears? + +MARINA Are you a woman? + +Bawd What would you have me be, an I be not a woman? + +MARINA An honest woman, or not a woman. + +Bawd Marry, whip thee, gosling: I think I shall have + something to do with you. Come, you're a young + foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have + you. + +MARINA The gods defend me! + +Bawd If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men + must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir + you up. Boult's returned. + + [Re-enter BOULT] + + Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market? + +BOULT I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; + I have drawn her picture with my voice. + +Bawd And I prithee tell me, how dost thou find the + inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort? + +BOULT 'Faith, they listened to me as they would have + hearkened to their father's testament. There was a + Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to + her very description. + +Bawd We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on. + +BOULT To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the + French knight that cowers i' the hams? + +Bawd Who, Monsieur Veroles? + +BOULT Ay, he: he offered to cut a caper at the + proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore + he would see her to-morrow. + +Bawd Well, well; as for him, he brought his disease + hither: here he does but repair it. I know he will + come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns in the + sun. + +BOULT Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we + should lodge them with this sign. + +Bawd [To MARINA] Pray you, come hither awhile. You + have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me: you must + seem to do that fearfully which you commit + willingly, despise profit where you have most gain. + To weep that you live as ye do makes pity in your + lovers: seldom but that pity begets you a good + opinion, and that opinion a mere profit. + +MARINA I understand you not. + +BOULT O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these + blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practise. + +Bawd Thou sayest true, i' faith, so they must; for your + bride goes to that with shame which is her way to go + with warrant. + +BOULT 'Faith, some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if + I have bargained for the joint,-- + +Bawd Thou mayst cut a morsel off the spit. + +BOULT I may so. + +Bawd Who should deny it? Come, young one, I like the + manner of your garments well. + +BOULT Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed yet. + +Bawd Boult, spend thou that in the town: report what a + sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. + When nature flamed this piece, she meant thee a good + turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou + hast the harvest out of thine own report. + +BOULT I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake + the beds of eels as my giving out her beauty stir up + the lewdly-inclined. I'll bring home some to-night. + +Bawd Come your ways; follow me. + +MARINA If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep, + Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. + Diana, aid my purpose! + +Bawd What have we to do with Diana? Pray you, will you go with us? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Tarsus. A room in CLEON's house. + + + [Enter CLEON and DIONYZA] + +DIONYZA Why, are you foolish? Can it be undone? + +CLEON O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter + The sun and moon ne'er look'd upon! + +DIONYZA I think + You'll turn a child again. + +CLEON Were I chief lord of all this spacious world, + I'ld give it to undo the deed. O lady, + Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess + To equal any single crown o' the earth + I' the justice of compare! O villain Leonine! + Whom thou hast poison'd too: + If thou hadst drunk to him, 't had been a kindness + Becoming well thy fact: what canst thou say + When noble Pericles shall demand his child? + +DIONYZA That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates, + To foster it, nor ever to preserve. + She died at night; I'll say so. Who can cross it? + Unless you play the pious innocent, + And for an honest attribute cry out + 'She died by foul play.' + +CLEON O, go to. Well, well, + Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods + Do like this worst. + +DIONYZA Be one of those that think + The petty wrens of Tarsus will fly hence, + And open this to Pericles. I do shame + To think of what a noble strain you are, + And of how coward a spirit. + +CLEON To such proceeding + Who ever but his approbation added, + Though not his prime consent, he did not flow + From honourable sources. + +DIONYZA Be it so, then: + Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead, + Nor none can know, Leonine being gone. + She did disdain my child, and stood between + Her and her fortunes: none would look on her, + But cast their gazes on Marina's face; + Whilst ours was blurted at and held a malkin + Not worth the time of day. It pierced me through; + And though you call my course unnatural, + You not your child well loving, yet I find + It greets me as an enterprise of kindness + Perform'd to your sole daughter. + +CLEON Heavens forgive it! + +DIONYZA And as for Pericles, + What should he say? We wept after her hearse, + And yet we mourn: her monument + Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs + In glittering golden characters express + A general praise to her, and care in us + At whose expense 'tis done. + +CLEON Thou art like the harpy, + Which, to betray, dost, with thine angel's face, + Seize with thine eagle's talons. + +DIONYZA You are like one that superstitiously + Doth swear to the gods that winter kills the flies: + But yet I know you'll do as I advise. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV: + + + [Enter GOWER, before the monument of MARINA at Tarsus] + +GOWER Thus time we waste, and longest leagues make short; + Sail seas in cockles, have an wish but for't; + Making, to take your imagination, + From bourn to bourn, region to region. + By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime + To use one language in each several clime + Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you + To learn of me, who stand i' the gaps to teach you, + The stages of our story. Pericles + Is now again thwarting the wayward seas, + Attended on by many a lord and knight. + To see his daughter, all his life's delight. + Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late + Advanced in time to great and high estate, + Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind, + Old Helicanus goes along behind. + Well-sailing ships and bounteous winds have brought + This king to Tarsus,--think his pilot thought; + So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,-- + To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone. + Like motes and shadows see them move awhile; + Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. + + DUMB SHOW. + + [Enter PERICLES, at one door, with all his train; + CLEON and DIONYZA, at the other. CLEON shows + PERICLES the tomb; whereat PERICLES makes + lamentation, puts on sackcloth, and in a mighty + passion departs. Then exeunt CLEON and DIONYZA] + + See how belief may suffer by foul show! + This borrow'd passion stands for true old woe; + And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd, + With sighs shot through, and biggest tears + o'ershower'd, + Leaves Tarsus and again embarks. He swears + Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs: + He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears + A tempest, which his mortal vessel tears, + And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit. + The epitaph is for Marina writ + By wicked Dionyza. + + [Reads the inscription on MARINA's monument] + + 'The fairest, sweet'st, and best lies here, + Who wither'd in her spring of year. + She was of Tyrus the king's daughter, + On whom foul death hath made this slaughter; + Marina was she call'd; and at her birth, + Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o' the earth: + Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd, + Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd: + Wherefore she does, and swears she'll never stint, + Make raging battery upon shores of flint.' + + No visor does become black villany + So well as soft and tender flattery. + Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead, + And bear his courses to be ordered + By Lady Fortune; while our scene must play + His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day + In her unholy service. Patience, then, + And think you now are all in Mytilene. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Mytilene. A street before the brothel. + + + [Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen] + +First Gentleman Did you ever hear the like? + +Second Gentleman No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she + being once gone. + +First Gentleman But to have divinity preached there! did you ever + dream of such a thing? + +Second Gentleman No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-houses: + shall's go hear the vestals sing? + +First Gentleman I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I + am out of the road of rutting for ever. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI The same. A room in the brothel. + + + [Enter Pandar, Bawd, and BOULT] + +Pandar Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her she + had ne'er come here. + +Bawd Fie, fie upon her! she's able to freeze the god + Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must + either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she + should do for clients her fitment, and do me the + kindness of our profession, she has me her quirks, + her reasons, her master reasons, her prayers, her + knees; that she would make a puritan of the devil, + if he should cheapen a kiss of her. + +BOULT 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us + of all our cavaliers, and make our swearers priests. + +Pandar Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me! + +Bawd 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't but by the + way to the pox. Here comes the Lord Lysimachus disguised. + +BOULT We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish + baggage would but give way to customers. + + [Enter LYSIMACHUS] + +LYSIMACHUS How now! How a dozen of virginities? + +Bawd Now, the gods to-bless your honour! + +BOULT I am glad to see your honour in good health. + +LYSIMACHUS You may so; 'tis the better for you that your + resorters stand upon sound legs. How now! + wholesome iniquity have you that a man may deal + withal, and defy the surgeon? + +Bawd We have here one, sir, if she would--but there never + came her like in Mytilene. + +LYSIMACHUS If she'ld do the deed of darkness, thou wouldst say. + +Bawd Your honour knows what 'tis to say well enough. + +LYSIMACHUS Well, call forth, call forth. + +BOULT For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall + see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but-- + +LYSIMACHUS What, prithee? + +BOULT O, sir, I can be modest. + +LYSIMACHUS That dignifies the renown of a bawd, no less than it + gives a good report to a number to be chaste. + + [Exit BOULT] + +Bawd Here comes that which grows to the stalk; never + plucked yet, I can assure you. + + [Re-enter BOULT with MARINA] + + Is she not a fair creature? + +LYSIMACHUS 'Faith, she would serve after a long voyage at sea. + Well, there's for you: leave us. + +Bawd I beseech your honour, give me leave: a word, and + I'll have done presently. + +LYSIMACHUS I beseech you, do. + +Bawd [To MARINA] First, I would have you note, this is + an honourable man. + +MARINA I desire to find him so, that I may worthily note him. + +Bawd Next, he's the governor of this country, and a man + whom I am bound to. + +MARINA If he govern the country, you are bound to him + indeed; but how honourable he is in that, I know not. + +Bawd Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will + you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold. + +MARINA What he will do graciously, I will thankfully receive. + +LYSIMACHUS Ha' you done? + +Bawd My lord, she's not paced yet: you must take some + pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will + leave his honour and her together. Go thy ways. + + [Exeunt Bawd, Pandar, and BOULT] + +LYSIMACHUS Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade? + +MARINA What trade, sir? + +LYSIMACHUS Why, I cannot name't but I shall offend. + +MARINA I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it. + +LYSIMACHUS How long have you been of this profession? + +MARINA E'er since I can remember. + +LYSIMACHUS Did you go to 't so young? Were you a gamester at + five or at seven? + +MARINA Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. + +LYSIMACHUS Why, the house you dwell in proclaims you to be a + creature of sale. + +MARINA Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, + and will come into 't? I hear say you are of + honourable parts, and are the governor of this place. + +LYSIMACHUS Why, hath your principal made known unto you who I am? + +MARINA Who is my principal? + +LYSIMACHUS Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds and roots + of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard something + of my power, and so stand aloof for more serious + wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one, my + authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly + upon thee. Come, bring me to some private place: + come, come. + +MARINA If you were born to honour, show it now; + If put upon you, make the judgment good + That thought you worthy of it. + +LYSIMACHUS How's this? how's this? Some more; be sage. + +MARINA For me, + That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune + Have placed me in this sty, where, since I came, + Diseases have been sold dearer than physic, + O, that the gods + Would set me free from this unhallow'd place, + Though they did change me to the meanest bird + That flies i' the purer air! + +LYSIMACHUS I did not think + Thou couldst have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou couldst. + Had I brought hither a corrupted mind, + Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for thee: + Persever in that clear way thou goest, + And the gods strengthen thee! + +MARINA The good gods preserve you! + +LYSIMACHUS For me, be you thoughten + That I came with no ill intent; for to me + The very doors and windows savour vilely. + Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and + I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. + Hold, here's more gold for thee. + A curse upon him, die he like a thief, + That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost + Hear from me, it shall be for thy good. + + [Re-enter BOULT] + +BOULT I beseech your honour, one piece for me. + +LYSIMACHUS Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! + Your house, but for this virgin that doth prop it, + Would sink and overwhelm you. Away! + + [Exit] + +BOULT How's this? We must take another course with you. + If your peevish chastity, which is not worth a + breakfast in the cheapest country under the cope, + shall undo a whole household, let me be gelded like + a spaniel. Come your ways. + +MARINA Whither would you have me? + +BOULT I must have your maidenhead taken off, or the common + hangman shall execute it. Come your ways. We'll + have no more gentlemen driven away. Come your ways, I say. + + [Re-enter Bawd] + +Bawd How now! what's the matter? + +BOULT Worse and worse, mistress; she has here spoken holy + words to the Lord Lysimachus. + +Bawd O abominable! + +BOULT She makes our profession as it were to stink afore + the face of the gods. + +Bawd Marry, hang her up for ever! + +BOULT The nobleman would have dealt with her like a + nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a + snowball; saying his prayers too. + +Bawd Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: + crack the glass of her virginity, and make the rest malleable. + +BOULT An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she + is, she shall be ploughed. + +MARINA Hark, hark, you gods! + +Bawd She conjures: away with her! Would she had never + come within my doors! Marry, hang you! She's born + to undo us. Will you not go the way of women-kind? + Marry, come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! + + [Exit] + +BOULT Come, mistress; come your ways with me. + +MARINA Whither wilt thou have me? + +BOULT To take from you the jewel you hold so dear. + +MARINA Prithee, tell me one thing first. + +BOULT Come now, your one thing. + +MARINA What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? + +BOULT Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress. + +MARINA Neither of these are so bad as thou art, + Since they do better thee in their command. + Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'st fiend + Of hell would not in reputation change: + Thou art the damned doorkeeper to every + Coistrel that comes inquiring for his Tib; + To the choleric fisting of every rogue + Thy ear is liable; thy food is such + As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs. + +BOULT What would you have me do? go to the wars, would + you? where a man may serve seven years for the loss + of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to + buy him a wooden one? + +MARINA Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty + OLD receptacles, or common shores, of filth; + Serve by indenture to the common hangman: + Any of these ways are yet better than this; + For what thou professest, a baboon, could he speak, + Would own a name too dear. O, that the gods + Would safely deliver me from this place! + Here, here's gold for thee. + If that thy master would gain by thee, + Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance, + With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast: + And I will undertake all these to teach. + I doubt not but this populous city will + Yield many scholars. + +BOULT But can you teach all this you speak of? + +MARINA Prove that I cannot, take me home again, + And prostitute me to the basest groom + That doth frequent your house. + +BOULT Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can + place thee, I will. + +MARINA But amongst honest women. + +BOULT 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them. + But since my master and mistress have bought you, + there's no going but by their consent: therefore I + will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I + doubt not but I shall find them tractable enough. + Come, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT V + + + [Enter GOWER] + +GOWER Marina thus the brothel 'scapes, and chances + Into an honest house, our story says. + She sings like one immortal, and she dances + As goddess-like to her admired lays; + Deep clerks she dumbs; and with her needle composes + Nature's own shape, of bud, bird, branch, or berry, + That even her art sisters the natural roses; + Her inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry: + That pupils lacks she none of noble race, + Who pour their bounty on her; and her gain + She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her place; + And to her father turn our thoughts again, + Where we left him, on the sea. We there him lost; + Whence, driven before the winds, he is arrived + Here where his daughter dwells; and on this coast + Suppose him now at anchor. The city strived + God Neptune's annual feast to keep: from whence + Lysimachus our Tyrian ship espies, + His banners sable, trimm'd with rich expense; + And to him in his barge with fervor hies. + In your supposing once more put your sight + Of heavy Pericles; think this his bark: + Where what is done in action, more, if might, + Shall be discover'd; please you, sit and hark. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I On board PERICLES' ship, off Mytilene. A close + pavilion on deck, with a curtain before it; PERICLES + within it, reclined on a couch. A barge lying + beside the Tyrian vessel. + + + [Enter two Sailors, one belonging to the Tyrian + vessel, the other to the barge; to them HELICANUS] + +Tyrian Sailor [To the Sailor of Mytilene] Where is lord Helicanus? + he can resolve you. + O, here he is. + Sir, there's a barge put off from Mytilene, + And in it is Lysimachus the governor, + Who craves to come aboard. What is your will? + +HELICANUS That he have his. Call up some gentlemen. + +Tyrian Sailor Ho, gentlemen! my lord calls. + + [Enter two or three Gentlemen] + +First Gentleman Doth your lordship call? + +HELICANUS Gentlemen, there's some of worth would come aboard; + I pray ye, greet them fairly. + + [The Gentlemen and the two Sailors descend, and go + on board the barge] + + [Enter, from thence, LYSIMACHUS and Lords; with the + Gentlemen and the two Sailors] + +Tyrian Sailor Sir, + This is the man that can, in aught you would, + Resolve you. + +LYSIMACHUS Hail, reverend sir! the gods preserve you! + +HELICANUS And you, sir, to outlive the age I am, + And die as I would do. + +LYSIMACHUS You wish me well. + Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's triumphs, + Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, + I made to it, to know of whence you are. + +HELICANUS First, what is your place? + +LYSIMACHUS I am the governor of this place you lie before. + +HELICANUS Sir, + Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king; + A man who for this three months hath not spoken + To any one, nor taken sustenance + But to prorogue his grief. + +LYSIMACHUS Upon what ground is his distemperature? + +HELICANUS 'Twould be too tedious to repeat; + But the main grief springs from the loss + Of a beloved daughter and a wife. + +LYSIMACHUS May we not see him? + +HELICANUS You may; + But bootless is your sight: he will not speak To any. + +LYSIMACHUS Yet let me obtain my wish. + +HELICANUS Behold him. + + [PERICLES discovered] + + This was a goodly person, + Till the disaster that, one mortal night, + Drove him to this. + +LYSIMACHUS Sir king, all hail! the gods preserve you! + Hail, royal sir! + +HELICANUS It is in vain; he will not speak to you. + +First Lord Sir, + We have a maid in Mytilene, I durst wager, + Would win some words of him. + +LYSIMACHUS 'Tis well bethought. + She questionless with her sweet harmony + And other chosen attractions, would allure, + And make a battery through his deafen'd parts, + Which now are midway stopp'd: + She is all happy as the fairest of all, + And, with her fellow maids is now upon + The leafy shelter that abuts against + The island's side. + + [Whispers a Lord, who goes off in the barge of + LYSIMACHUS] + +HELICANUS Sure, all's effectless; yet nothing we'll omit + That bears recovery's name. But, since your kindness + We have stretch'd thus far, let us beseech you + That for our gold we may provision have, + Wherein we are not destitute for want, + But weary for the staleness. + +LYSIMACHUS O, sir, a courtesy + Which if we should deny, the most just gods + For every graff would send a caterpillar, + And so afflict our province. Yet once more + Let me entreat to know at large the cause + Of your king's sorrow. + +HELICANUS Sit, sir, I will recount it to you: + But, see, I am prevented. + + [Re-enter, from the barge, Lord, with MARINA, and a + young Lady] + +LYSIMACHUS O, here is + The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one! + Is't not a goodly presence? + +HELICANUS She's a gallant lady. + +LYSIMACHUS She's such a one, that, were I well assured + Came of a gentle kind and noble stock, + I'ld wish no better choice, and think me rarely wed. + Fair one, all goodness that consists in bounty + Expect even here, where is a kingly patient: + If that thy prosperous and artificial feat + Can draw him but to answer thee in aught, + Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay + As thy desires can wish. + +MARINA Sir, I will use + My utmost skill in his recovery, Provided + That none but I and my companion maid + Be suffer'd to come near him. + +LYSIMACHUS Come, let us leave her; + And the gods make her prosperous! + + [MARINA sings] + +LYSIMACHUS Mark'd he your music? + +MARINA No, nor look'd on us. + +LYSIMACHUS See, she will speak to him. + +MARINA Hail, sir! my lord, lend ear. + +PERICLES Hum, ha! + +MARINA I am a maid, + My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, + But have been gazed on like a comet: she speaks, + My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief + Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd. + Though wayward fortune did malign my state, + My derivation was from ancestors + Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: + But time hath rooted out my parentage, + And to the world and awkward casualties + Bound me in servitude. + + [Aside] + + I will desist; + But there is something glows upon my cheek, + And whispers in mine ear, 'Go not till he speak.' + +PERICLES My fortunes--parentage--good parentage-- + To equal mine!--was it not thus? what say you? + +MARINA I said, my lord, if you did know my parentage, + You would not do me violence. + +PERICLES I do think so. Pray you, turn your eyes upon me. + You are like something that--What country-woman? + Here of these shores? + +MARINA No, nor of any shores: + Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am + No other than I appear. + +PERICLES I am great with woe, and shall deliver weeping. + My dearest wife was like this maid, and such a one + My daughter might have been: my queen's square brows; + Her stature to an inch; as wand-like straight; + As silver-voiced; her eyes as jewel-like + And cased as richly; in pace another Juno; + Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes them hungry, + The more she gives them speech. Where do you live? + +MARINA Where I am but a stranger: from the deck + You may discern the place. + +PERICLES Where were you bred? + And how achieved you these endowments, which + You make more rich to owe? + +MARINA If I should tell my history, it would seem + Like lies disdain'd in the reporting. + +PERICLES Prithee, speak: + Falseness cannot come from thee; for thou look'st + Modest as Justice, and thou seem'st a palace + For the crown'd Truth to dwell in: I will + believe thee, + And make my senses credit thy relation + To points that seem impossible; for thou look'st + Like one I loved indeed. What were thy friends? + Didst thou not say, when I did push thee back-- + Which was when I perceived thee--that thou camest + From good descending? + +MARINA So indeed I did. + +PERICLES Report thy parentage. I think thou said'st + Thou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, + And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal mine, + If both were open'd. + +MARINA Some such thing + I said, and said no more but what my thoughts + Did warrant me was likely. + +PERICLES Tell thy story; + If thine consider'd prove the thousandth part + Of my endurance, thou art a man, and I + Have suffer'd like a girl: yet thou dost look + Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling + Extremity out of act. What were thy friends? + How lost thou them? Thy name, my most kind virgin? + Recount, I do beseech thee: come, sit by me. + +MARINA My name is Marina. + +PERICLES O, I am mock'd, + And thou by some incensed god sent hither + To make the world to laugh at me. + +MARINA Patience, good sir, + Or here I'll cease. + +PERICLES Nay, I'll be patient. + Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me, + To call thyself Marina. + +MARINA The name + Was given me by one that had some power, + My father, and a king. + +PERICLES How! a king's daughter? + And call'd Marina? + +MARINA You said you would believe me; + But, not to be a troubler of your peace, + I will end here. + +PERICLES But are you flesh and blood? + Have you a working pulse? and are no fairy? + Motion! Well; speak on. Where were you born? + And wherefore call'd Marina? + +MARINA Call'd Marina + For I was born at sea. + +PERICLES At sea! what mother? + +MARINA My mother was the daughter of a king; + Who died the minute I was born, + As my good nurse Lychorida hath oft + Deliver'd weeping. + +PERICLES O, stop there a little! + + [Aside] + + This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep + Did mock sad fools withal: this cannot be: + My daughter's buried. Well: where were you bred? + I'll hear you more, to the bottom of your story, + And never interrupt you. + +MARINA You scorn: believe me, 'twere best I did give o'er. + +PERICLES I will believe you by the syllable + Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me leave: + How came you in these parts? where were you bred? + +MARINA The king my father did in Tarsus leave me; + Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife, + Did seek to murder me: and having woo'd + A villain to attempt it, who having drawn to do't, + A crew of pirates came and rescued me; + Brought me to Mytilene. But, good sir, + Whither will you have me? Why do you weep? + It may be, + You think me an impostor: no, good faith; + I am the daughter to King Pericles, + If good King Pericles be. + +PERICLES Ho, Helicanus! + +HELICANUS Calls my lord? + +PERICLES Thou art a grave and noble counsellor, + Most wise in general: tell me, if thou canst, + What this maid is, or what is like to be, + That thus hath made me weep? + +HELICANUS I know not; but + Here is the regent, sir, of Mytilene + Speaks nobly of her. + +LYSIMACHUS She would never tell + Her parentage; being demanded that, + She would sit still and weep. + +PERICLES O Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir; + Give me a gash, put me to present pain; + Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me + O'erbear the shores of my mortality, + And drown me with their sweetness. O, come hither, + Thou that beget'st him that did thee beget; + Thou that wast born at sea, buried at Tarsus, + And found at sea again! O Helicanus, + Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as loud + As thunder threatens us: this is Marina. + What was thy mother's name? tell me but that, + For truth can never be confirm'd enough, + Though doubts did ever sleep. + +MARINA First, sir, I pray, + What is your title? + +PERICLES I am Pericles of Tyre: but tell me now + My drown'd queen's name, as in the rest you said + Thou hast been godlike perfect, + The heir of kingdoms and another like + To Pericles thy father. + +MARINA Is it no more to be your daughter than + To say my mother's name was Thaisa? + Thaisa was my mother, who did end + The minute I began. + +PERICLES Now, blessing on thee! rise; thou art my child. + Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Helicanus; + She is not dead at Tarsus, as she should have been, + By savage Cleon: she shall tell thee all; + When thou shalt kneel, and justify in knowledge + She is thy very princess. Who is this? + +HELICANUS Sir, 'tis the governor of Mytilene, + Who, hearing of your melancholy state, + Did come to see you. + +PERICLES I embrace you. + Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding. + O heavens bless my girl! But, hark, what music? + Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him + O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to doubt, + How sure you are my daughter. But, what music? + +HELICANUS My lord, I hear none. + +PERICLES None! + The music of the spheres! List, my Marina. + +LYSIMACHUS It is not good to cross him; give him way. + +PERICLES Rarest sounds! Do ye not hear? + +LYSIMACHUS My lord, I hear. + + [Music] + +PERICLES Most heavenly music! + It nips me unto listening, and thick slumber + Hangs upon mine eyes: let me rest. + + [Sleeps] + +LYSIMACHUS A pillow for his head: + So, leave him all. Well, my companion friends, + If this but answer to my just belief, + I'll well remember you. + + [Exeunt all but PERICLES] + + [DIANA appears to PERICLES as in a vision] + +DIANA My temple stands in Ephesus: hie thee thither, + And do upon mine altar sacrifice. + There, when my maiden priests are met together, + Before the people all, + Reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife: + To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's, call + And give them repetition to the life. + Or perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe; + Do it, and happy; by my silver bow! + Awake, and tell thy dream. + + [Disappears] + +PERICLES Celestial Dian, goddess argentine, + I will obey thee. Helicanus! + + [Re-enter HELICANUS, LYSIMACHUS, and MARINA] + +HELICANUS Sir? + +PERICLES My purpose was for Tarsus, there to strike + The inhospitable Cleon; but I am + For other service first: toward Ephesus + Turn our blown sails; eftsoons I'll tell thee why. + + [To LYSIMACHUS] + + Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore, + And give you gold for such provision + As our intents will need? + +LYSIMACHUS Sir, + With all my heart; and, when you come ashore, + I have another suit. + +PERICLES You shall prevail, + Were it to woo my daughter; for it seems + You have been noble towards her. + +LYSIMACHUS Sir, lend me your arm. + +PERICLES Come, my Marina. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II: + + + [Enter GOWER, before the temple of DIANA at Ephesus] + +GOWER Now our sands are almost run; + More a little, and then dumb. + This, my last boon, give me, + For such kindness must relieve me, + That you aptly will suppose + What pageantry, what feats, what shows, + What minstrelsy, and pretty din, + The regent made in Mytilene + To greet the king. So he thrived, + That he is promised to be wived + To fair Marina; but in no wise + Till he had done his sacrifice, + As Dian bade: whereto being bound, + The interim, pray you, all confound. + In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, + And wishes fall out as they're will'd. + At Ephesus, the temple see, + Our king and all his company. + That he can hither come so soon, + Is by your fancy's thankful doom. + + [Exit] + + + + + PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE + + +ACT V + + +SCENE III The temple of Diana at Ephesus; THAISA standing + near the altar, as high priestess; a number of + Virgins on each side; CERIMON and other Inhabitants + of Ephesus attending. + + + [Enter PERICLES, with his train; LYSIMACHUS, + HELICANUS, MARINA, and a Lady] + +PERICLES Hail, Dian! to perform thy just command, + I here confess myself the king of Tyre; + Who, frighted from my country, did wed + At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa. + At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth + A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess, + Wears yet thy silver livery. She at Tarsus + Was nursed with Cleon; who at fourteen years + He sought to murder: but her better stars + Brought her to Mytilene; 'gainst whose shore + Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard us, + Where, by her own most clear remembrance, she + Made known herself my daughter. + +THAISA Voice and favour! + You are, you are--O royal Pericles! + + [Faints] + +PERICLES What means the nun? she dies! help, gentlemen! + +CERIMON Noble sir, + If you have told Diana's altar true, + This is your wife. + +PERICLES Reverend appearer, no; + I threw her overboard with these very arms. + +CERIMON Upon this coast, I warrant you. + +PERICLES 'Tis most certain. + +CERIMON Look to the lady; O, she's but o'erjoy'd. + Early in blustering morn this lady was + Thrown upon this shore. I oped the coffin, + Found there rich jewels; recover'd her, and placed her + Here in Diana's temple. + +PERICLES May we see them? + +CERIMON Great sir, they shall be brought you to my house, + Whither I invite you. Look, Thaisa is recovered. + +THAISA O, let me look! + If he be none of mine, my sanctity + Will to my sense bend no licentious ear, + But curb it, spite of seeing. O, my lord, + Are you not Pericles? Like him you spake, + Like him you are: did you not name a tempest, + A birth, and death? + +PERICLES The voice of dead Thaisa! + +THAISA That Thaisa am I, supposed dead + And drown'd. + +PERICLES Immortal Dian! + +THAISA Now I know you better. + When we with tears parted Pentapolis, + The king my father gave you such a ring. + + [Shows a ring] + +PERICLES This, this: no more, you gods! your present kindness + Makes my past miseries sports: you shall do well, + That on the touching of her lips I may + Melt and no more be seen. O, come, be buried + A second time within these arms. + +MARINA My heart + Leaps to be gone into my mother's bosom. + + [Kneels to THAISA] + +PERICLES Look, who kneels here! Flesh of thy flesh, Thaisa; + Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina + For she was yielded there. + +THAISA Blest, and mine own! + +HELICANUS Hail, madam, and my queen! + +THAISA I know you not. + +PERICLES You have heard me say, when I did fly from Tyre, + I left behind an ancient substitute: + Can you remember what I call'd the man? + I have named him oft. + +THAISA 'Twas Helicanus then. + +PERICLES Still confirmation: + Embrace him, dear Thaisa; this is he. + Now do I long to hear how you were found; + How possibly preserved; and who to thank, + Besides the gods, for this great miracle. + +THAISA Lord Cerimon, my lord; this man, + Through whom the gods have shown their power; that can + From first to last resolve you. + +PERICLES Reverend sir, + The gods can have no mortal officer + More like a god than you. Will you deliver + How this dead queen re-lives? + +CERIMON I will, my lord. + Beseech you, first go with me to my house, + Where shall be shown you all was found with her; + How she came placed here in the temple; + No needful thing omitted. + +PERICLES Pure Dian, bless thee for thy vision! I + Will offer night-oblations to thee. Thaisa, + This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daughter, + Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now, + This ornament + Makes me look dismal will I clip to form; + And what this fourteen years no razor touch'd, + To grace thy marriage-day, I'll beautify. + +THAISA Lord Cerimon hath letters of good credit, sir, + My father's dead. + +PERICLES Heavens make a star of him! Yet there, my queen, + We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves + Will in that kingdom spend our following days: + Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. + Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay + To hear the rest untold: sir, lead's the way. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter GOWER] + +GOWER In Antiochus and his daughter you have heard + Of monstrous lust the due and just reward: + In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen, + Although assail'd with fortune fierce and keen, + Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, + Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last: + In Helicanus may you well descry + A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: + In reverend Cerimon there well appears + The worth that learned charity aye wears: + For wicked Cleon and his wife, when fame + Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd name + Of Pericles, to rage the city turn, + That him and his they in his palace burn; + The gods for murder seemed so content + To punish them; although not done, but meant. + So, on your patience evermore attending, + New joy wait on you! Here our play has ending. + + [Exit] + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + + A Lord. | + | +CHRISTOPHER SLY a tinker. (SLY:) | Persons in + | the Induction. + Hostess, Page, Players, | + Huntsmen, and Servants. | + (Hostess:) + (Page:) + (A Player:) + (First Huntsman:) + (Second Huntsman:) + (Messenger:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + (Third Servant:) + + +BAPTISTA a rich gentleman of Padua. + +VINCENTIO an old gentleman of Pisa. + +LUCENTIO son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca. + +PETRUCHIO a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to + Katharina. + + +GREMIO | + | suitors to Bianca. +HORTENSIO | + + +TRANIO | + | servants to Lucentio. +BIONDELLO | + + +GRUMIO | + | +CURTIS | + | +NATHANIEL | + | +NICHOLAS | servants to Petruchio. + | +JOSEPH | + | +PHILIP | + | +PETER | + + A Pedant. + + +KATHARINA the shrew, | + | daughters to Baptista. +BIANCA | + + Widow. + + Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending + on Baptista and Petruchio. + (Tailor:) + (Haberdasher:) + (First Servant:) + + +SCENE Padua, and Petruchio's country house. + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + INDUCTION + + + +SCENE I Before an alehouse on a heath. + + + [Enter Hostess and SLY] + +SLY I'll pheeze you, in faith. + +Hostess A pair of stocks, you rogue! + +SLY Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in + the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. + Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! + +Hostess You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? + +SLY No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold + bed, and warm thee. + +Hostess I know my remedy; I must go fetch the + third--borough. + + [Exit] + +SLY Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him + by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, + and kindly. + + [Falls asleep] + + [Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train] + +Lord Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: + Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd; + And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach. + Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good + At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? + I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. + +First Huntsman Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; + He cried upon it at the merest loss + And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: + Trust me, I take him for the better dog. + +Lord Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, + I would esteem him worth a dozen such. + But sup them well and look unto them all: + To-morrow I intend to hunt again. + +First Huntsman I will, my lord. + +Lord What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? + +Second Huntsman He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, + This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. + +Lord O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! + Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! + Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. + What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, + Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, + A most delicious banquet by his bed, + And brave attendants near him when he wakes, + Would not the beggar then forget himself? + +First Huntsman Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. + +Second Huntsman It would seem strange unto him when he waked. + +Lord Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. + Then take him up and manage well the jest: + Carry him gently to my fairest chamber + And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: + Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters + And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: + Procure me music ready when he wakes, + To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; + And if he chance to speak, be ready straight + And with a low submissive reverence + Say 'What is it your honour will command?' + Let one attend him with a silver basin + Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers, + Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, + And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?' + Some one be ready with a costly suit + And ask him what apparel he will wear; + Another tell him of his hounds and horse, + And that his lady mourns at his disease: + Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; + And when he says he is, say that he dreams, + For he is nothing but a mighty lord. + This do and do it kindly, gentle sirs: + It will be pastime passing excellent, + If it be husbanded with modesty. + +First Huntsman My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, + As he shall think by our true diligence + He is no less than what we say he is. + +Lord Take him up gently and to bed with him; + And each one to his office when he wakes. + + [Some bear out SLY. A trumpet sounds] + + Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: + + [Exit Servingman] + + Belike, some noble gentleman that means, + Travelling some journey, to repose him here. + + [Re-enter Servingman] + + How now! who is it? + +Servant An't please your honour, players + That offer service to your lordship. + +Lord Bid them come near. + + [Enter Players] + + Now, fellows, you are welcome. + +Players We thank your honour. + +Lord Do you intend to stay with me tonight? + +A Player So please your lordship to accept our duty. + +Lord With all my heart. This fellow I remember, + Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son: + 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: + I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part + Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. + +A Player I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. + +Lord 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. + Well, you are come to me in a happy time; + The rather for I have some sport in hand + Wherein your cunning can assist me much. + There is a lord will hear you play to-night: + But I am doubtful of your modesties; + Lest over-eyeing of his odd behavior,-- + For yet his honour never heard a play-- + You break into some merry passion + And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, + If you should smile he grows impatient. + +A Player Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, + Were he the veriest antic in the world. + +Lord Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, + And give them friendly welcome every one: + Let them want nothing that my house affords. + + [Exit one with the Players] + + Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, + And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: + That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; + And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. + Tell him from me, as he will win my love, + He bear himself with honourable action, + Such as he hath observed in noble ladies + Unto their lords, by them accomplished: + Such duty to the drunkard let him do + With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy, + And say 'What is't your honour will command, + Wherein your lady and your humble wife + May show her duty and make known her love?' + And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, + And with declining head into his bosom, + Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd + To see her noble lord restored to health, + Who for this seven years hath esteem'd him + No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: + And if the boy have not a woman's gift + To rain a shower of commanded tears, + An onion will do well for such a shift, + Which in a napkin being close convey'd + Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. + See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst: + Anon I'll give thee more instructions. + + [Exit a Servingman] + + I know the boy will well usurp the grace, + Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman: + I long to hear him call the drunkard husband, + And how my men will stay themselves from laughter + When they do homage to this simple peasant. + I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence + May well abate the over-merry spleen + Which otherwise would grow into extremes. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + INDUCTION + + + +SCENE II A bedchamber in the Lord's house. + + + [Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel, + others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord] + +SLY For God's sake, a pot of small ale. + +First Servant Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? + +Second Servant Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? + +Third Servant What raiment will your honour wear to-day? + +SLY I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor + 'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if + you give me any conserves, give me conserves of + beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I + have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings + than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, + sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my + toes look through the over-leather. + +Lord Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! + O, that a mighty man of such descent, + Of such possessions and so high esteem, + Should be infused with so foul a spirit! + +SLY What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher + Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a + pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a + bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? + Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if + she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence + on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the + lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not + bestraught: here's-- + +Third Servant O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! + +Second Servant O, this is it that makes your servants droop! + +Lord Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, + As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. + O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, + Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment + And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. + Look how thy servants do attend on thee, + Each in his office ready at thy beck. + Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, + + [Music] + + And twenty caged nightingales do sing: + Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch + Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed + On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. + Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: + Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, + Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. + Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar + Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt? + Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them + And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. + +First Servant Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift + As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. + +Second Servant Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight + Adonis painted by a running brook, + And Cytherea all in sedges hid, + Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, + Even as the waving sedges play with wind. + +Lord We'll show thee Io as she was a maid, + And how she was beguiled and surprised, + As lively painted as the deed was done. + +Third Servant Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, + Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, + And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, + So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. + +Lord Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: + Thou hast a lady far more beautiful + Than any woman in this waning age. + +First Servant And till the tears that she hath shed for thee + Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, + She was the fairest creature in the world; + And yet she is inferior to none. + +SLY Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? + Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? + I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; + I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: + Upon my life, I am a lord indeed + And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. + Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; + And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. + +Second Servant Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? + O, how we joy to see your wit restored! + O, that once more you knew but what you are! + These fifteen years you have been in a dream; + Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. + +SLY These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. + But did I never speak of all that time? + +First Servant O, yes, my lord, but very idle words: + For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, + Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; + And rail upon the hostess of the house; + And say you would present her at the leet, + Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: + Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. + +SLY Ay, the woman's maid of the house. + +Third Servant Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, + Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, + As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece + And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell + And twenty more such names and men as these + Which never were nor no man ever saw. + +SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! + +ALL Amen. + +SLY I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it. + + [Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants] + +Page How fares my noble lord? + +SLY Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough. + Where is my wife? + +Page Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her? + +SLY Are you my wife and will not call me husband? + My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman. + +Page My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; + I am your wife in all obedience. + +SLY I know it well. What must I call her? + +Lord Madam. + +SLY Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? + +Lord 'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords + call ladies. + +SLY Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd + And slept above some fifteen year or more. + +Page Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, + Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. + +SLY 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone. + Madam, undress you and come now to bed. + +Page Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you + To pardon me yet for a night or two, + Or, if not so, until the sun be set: + For your physicians have expressly charged, + In peril to incur your former malady, + That I should yet absent me from your bed: + I hope this reason stands for my excuse. + +SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly + tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into + my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in + despite of the flesh and the blood. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Your honour's players, heating your amendment, + Are come to play a pleasant comedy; + For so your doctors hold it very meet, + Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, + And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy: + Therefore they thought it good you hear a play + And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, + Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. + +SLY Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a + comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? + +Page No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. + +SLY What, household stuff? + +Page It is a kind of history. + +SLY Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side + and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. + + [Flourish] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Padua. A public place. + + + [Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO] + +LUCENTIO Tranio, since for the great desire I had + To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, + I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, + The pleasant garden of great Italy; + And by my father's love and leave am arm'd + With his good will and thy good company, + My trusty servant, well approved in all, + Here let us breathe and haply institute + A course of learning and ingenious studies. + Pisa renown'd for grave citizens + Gave me my being and my father first, + A merchant of great traffic through the world, + Vincetino come of Bentivolii. + Vincetino's son brought up in Florence + It shall become to serve all hopes conceived, + To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: + And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study, + Virtue and that part of philosophy + Will I apply that treats of happiness + By virtue specially to be achieved. + Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left + And am to Padua come, as he that leaves + A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep + And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. + +TRANIO Mi perdonato, gentle master mine, + I am in all affected as yourself; + Glad that you thus continue your resolve + To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. + Only, good master, while we do admire + This virtue and this moral discipline, + Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray; + Or so devote to Aristotle's cheques + As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured: + Balk logic with acquaintance that you have + And practise rhetoric in your common talk; + Music and poesy use to quicken you; + The mathematics and the metaphysics, + Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you; + No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en: + In brief, sir, study what you most affect. + +LUCENTIO Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. + If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, + We could at once put us in readiness, + And take a lodging fit to entertain + Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. + But stay a while: what company is this? + +TRANIO Master, some show to welcome us to town. + + [Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and + HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by] + +BAPTISTA Gentlemen, importune me no farther, + For how I firmly am resolved you know; + That is, not bestow my youngest daughter + Before I have a husband for the elder: + If either of you both love Katharina, + Because I know you well and love you well, + Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. + +GREMIO [Aside] To cart her rather: she's too rough for me. + There, There, Hortensio, will you any wife? + +KATHARINA I pray you, sir, is it your will + To make a stale of me amongst these mates? + +HORTENSIO Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, + Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. + +KATHARINA I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: + I wis it is not half way to her heart; + But if it were, doubt not her care should be + To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool + And paint your face and use you like a fool. + +HORTENSIA From all such devils, good Lord deliver us! + +GREMIO And me too, good Lord! + +TRANIO Hush, master! here's some good pastime toward: + That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. + +LUCENTIO But in the other's silence do I see + Maid's mild behavior and sobriety. + Peace, Tranio! + +TRANIO Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. + +BAPTISTA Gentlemen, that I may soon make good + What I have said, Bianca, get you in: + And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, + For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. + +KATHARINA A pretty peat! it is best + Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. + +BIANCA Sister, content you in my discontent. + Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: + My books and instruments shall be my company, + On them to took and practise by myself. + +LUCENTIO Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak. + +HORTENSIO Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? + Sorry am I that our good will effects + Bianca's grief. + +GREMIO Why will you mew her up, + Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, + And make her bear the penance of her tongue? + +BAPTISTA Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolved: + Go in, Bianca: + + [Exit BIANCA] + + And for I know she taketh most delight + In music, instruments and poetry, + Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, + Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, + Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such, + Prefer them hither; for to cunning men + I will be very kind, and liberal + To mine own children in good bringing up: + And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay; + For I have more to commune with Bianca. + + [Exit] + +KATHARINA Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, + shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I + knew not what to take and what to leave, ha? + + [Exit] + +GREMIO You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so + good, here's none will hold you. Their love is not + so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails + together, and fast it fairly out: our cakes dough on + both sides. Farewell: yet for the love I bear my + sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit + man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will + wish him to her father. + +HORTENSIO So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. + Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked + parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, + that we may yet again have access to our fair + mistress and be happy rivals in Bianco's love, to + labour and effect one thing specially. + +GREMIO What's that, I pray? + +HORTENSIO Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. + +GREMIO A husband! a devil. + +HORTENSIO I say, a husband. + +GREMIO I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though + her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool + to be married to hell? + +HORTENSIO Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine + to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good + fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, + would take her with all faults, and money enough. + +GREMIO I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with + this condition, to be whipped at the high cross + every morning. + +HORTENSIO Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten + apples. But come; since this bar in law makes us + friends, it shall be so far forth friendly + maintained all by helping Baptista's eldest daughter + to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband, + and then have to't a fresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man + be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. + How say you, Signior Gremio? + +GREMIO I am agreed; and would I had given him the best + horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would + thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the + house of her! Come on. + + [Exeunt GREMIO and HORTENSIO] + +TRANIO I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible + That love should of a sudden take such hold? + +LUCENTIO O Tranio, till I found it to be true, + I never thought it possible or likely; + But see, while idly I stood looking on, + I found the effect of love in idleness: + And now in plainness do confess to thee, + That art to me as secret and as dear + As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, + Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, + If I achieve not this young modest girl. + Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; + Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. + +TRANIO Master, it is no time to chide you now; + Affection is not rated from the heart: + If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so, + 'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.' + +LUCENTIO Gramercies, lad, go forward; this contents: + The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. + +TRANIO Master, you look'd so longly on the maid, + Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. + +LUCENTIO O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, + Such as the daughter of Agenor had, + That made great Jove to humble him to her hand. + When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. + +TRANIO Saw you no more? mark'd you not how her sister + Began to scold and raise up such a storm + That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? + +LUCENTIO Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move + And with her breath she did perfume the air: + Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. + +TRANIO Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance. + I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid, + Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands: + Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd + That till the father rid his hands of her, + Master, your love must live a maid at home; + And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, + Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. + +LUCENTIO Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! + But art thou not advised, he took some care + To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? + +TRANIO Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted. + +LUCENTIO I have it, Tranio. + +TRANIO Master, for my hand, + Both our inventions meet and jump in one. + +LUCENTIO Tell me thine first. + +TRANIO You will be schoolmaster + And undertake the teaching of the maid: + That's your device. + +LUCENTIO It is: may it be done? + +TRANIO Not possible; for who shall bear your part, + And be in Padua here Vincentio's son, + Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, + Visit his countrymen and banquet them? + +LUCENTIO Basta; content thee, for I have it full. + We have not yet been seen in any house, + Nor can we lie distinguish'd by our faces + For man or master; then it follows thus; + Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead, + Keep house and port and servants as I should: + I will some other be, some Florentine, + Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. + 'Tis hatch'd and shall be so: Tranio, at once + Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak: + When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; + But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. + +TRANIO So had you need. + In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, + And I am tied to be obedient; + For so your father charged me at our parting, + 'Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he, + Although I think 'twas in another sense; + I am content to be Lucentio, + Because so well I love Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves: + And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid + Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. + Here comes the rogue. + + [Enter BIONDELLO] + + Sirrah, where have you been? + +BIONDELLO Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you? + Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or + you stolen his? or both? pray, what's the news? + +LUCENTIO Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest, + And therefore frame your manners to the time. + Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, + Puts my apparel and my countenance on, + And I for my escape have put on his; + For in a quarrel since I came ashore + I kill'd a man and fear I was descried: + Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, + While I make way from hence to save my life: + You understand me? + +BIONDELLO I, sir! ne'er a whit. + +LUCENTIO And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: + Tranio is changed into Lucentio. + +BIONDELLO The better for him: would I were so too! + +TRANIO So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, + That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter. + But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master's, I advise + You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: + When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; + But in all places else your master Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO Tranio, let's go: one thing more rests, that + thyself execute, to make one among these wooers: if + thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good + and weighty. + + [Exeunt] + + [The presenters above speak] + +First Servant My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play. + +SLY Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely: + comes there any more of it? + +Page My lord, 'tis but begun. + +SLY 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady: + would 'twere done! + + [They sit and mark] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house. + + + [Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO] + +PETRUCHIO Verona, for a while I take my leave, + To see my friends in Padua, but of all + My best beloved and approved friend, + Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. + Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say. + +GRUMIO Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has + rebused your worship? + +PETRUCHIO Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. + +GRUMIO Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that + I should knock you here, sir? + +PETRUCHIO Villain, I say, knock me at this gate + And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate. + +GRUMIO My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock + you first, + And then I know after who comes by the worst. + +PETRUCHIO Will it not be? + Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it; + I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. + + [He wrings him by the ears] + +GRUMIO Help, masters, help! my master is mad. + +PETRUCHIO Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! + + [Enter HORTENSIO] + +HORTENSIO How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio! + and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? + +PETRUCHIO Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? + 'Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,' may I say. + +HORTENSIO 'Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor + mio Petruchio.' Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound + this quarrel. + +GRUMIO Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin. + if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his + service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap + him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to + use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see, + two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had + well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst. + +PETRUCHIO A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, + I bade the rascal knock upon your gate + And could not get him for my heart to do it. + +GRUMIO Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these + words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, + knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you + now with, 'knocking at the gate'? + +PETRUCHIO Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. + +HORTENSIO Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge: + Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, + Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. + And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale + Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? + +PETRUCHIO Such wind as scatters young men through the world, + To seek their fortunes farther than at home + Where small experience grows. But in a few, + Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: + Antonio, my father, is deceased; + And I have thrust myself into this maze, + Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: + Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home, + And so am come abroad to see the world. + +HORTENSIO Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee + And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? + Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel: + And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich + And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend, + And I'll not wish thee to her. + +PETRUCHIO Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we + Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know + One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, + As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, + Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, + As old as Sibyl and as curst and shrewd + As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse, + She moves me not, or not removes, at least, + Affection's edge in me, were she as rough + As are the swelling Adriatic seas: + I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; + If wealthily, then happily in Padua. + +GRUMIO Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his + mind is: Why give him gold enough and marry him to + a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne'er + a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases + as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, + so money comes withal. + +HORTENSIO Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in, + I will continue that I broach'd in jest. + I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife + With wealth enough and young and beauteous, + Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: + Her only fault, and that is faults enough, + Is that she is intolerable curst + And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure + That, were my state far worser than it is, + I would not wed her for a mine of gold. + +PETRUCHIO Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect: + Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough; + For I will board her, though she chide as loud + As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. + +HORTENSIO Her father is Baptista Minola, + An affable and courteous gentleman: + Her name is Katharina Minola, + Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. + +PETRUCHIO I know her father, though I know not her; + And he knew my deceased father well. + I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her; + And therefore let me be thus bold with you + To give you over at this first encounter, + Unless you will accompany me thither. + +GRUMIO I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. + O' my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she + would think scolding would do little good upon him: + she may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so: + why, that's nothing; an he begin once, he'll rail in + his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what sir, an she + stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in + her face and so disfigure her with it that she + shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat. + You know him not, sir. + +HORTENSIO Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, + For in Baptista's keep my treasure is: + He hath the jewel of my life in hold, + His youngest daughter, beautiful Binaca, + And her withholds from me and other more, + Suitors to her and rivals in my love, + Supposing it a thing impossible, + For those defects I have before rehearsed, + That ever Katharina will be woo'd; + Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en, + That none shall have access unto Bianca + Till Katharina the curst have got a husband. + +GRUMIO Katharina the curst! + A title for a maid of all titles the worst. + +HORTENSIO Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, + And offer me disguised in sober robes + To old Baptista as a schoolmaster + Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; + That so I may, by this device, at least + Have leave and leisure to make love to her + And unsuspected court her by herself. + +GRUMIO Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, + how the young folks lay their heads together! + + [Enter GREMIO, and LUCENTIO disguised] + + Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha? + +HORTENSIO Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love. + Petruchio, stand by a while. + +GRUMIO A proper stripling and an amorous! + +GREMIO O, very well; I have perused the note. + Hark you, sir: I'll have them very fairly bound: + All books of love, see that at any hand; + And see you read no other lectures to her: + You understand me: over and beside + Signior Baptista's liberality, + I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too, + And let me have them very well perfumed + For she is sweeter than perfume itself + To whom they go to. What will you read to her? + +LUCENTIO Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you + As for my patron, stand you so assured, + As firmly as yourself were still in place: + Yea, and perhaps with more successful words + Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. + +GREMIO O this learning, what a thing it is! + +GRUMIO O this woodcock, what an ass it is! + +PETRUCHIO Peace, sirrah! + +HORTENSIO Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio. + +GREMIO And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. + Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. + I promised to inquire carefully + About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca: + And by good fortune I have lighted well + On this young man, for learning and behavior + Fit for her turn, well read in poetry + And other books, good ones, I warrant ye. + +HORTENSIO 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman + Hath promised me to help me to another, + A fine musician to instruct our mistress; + So shall I no whit be behind in duty + To fair Bianca, so beloved of me. + +GREMIO Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove. + +GRUMIO And that his bags shall prove. + +HORTENSIO Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love: + Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, + I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. + Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, + Upon agreement from us to his liking, + Will undertake to woo curst Katharina, + Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. + +GREMIO So said, so done, is well. + Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? + +PETRUCHIO I know she is an irksome brawling scold: + If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. + +GREMIO No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman? + +PETRUCHIO Born in Verona, old Antonio's son: + My father dead, my fortune lives for me; + And I do hope good days and long to see. + +GREMIO O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange! + But if you have a stomach, to't i' God's name: + You shall have me assisting you in all. + But will you woo this wild-cat? + +PETRUCHIO Will I live? + +GRUMIO Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. + +PETRUCHIO Why came I hither but to that intent? + Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? + Have I not in my time heard lions roar? + Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds + Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? + Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, + And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? + Have I not in a pitched battle heard + Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? + And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, + That gives not half so great a blow to hear + As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire? + Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. + +GRUMIO For he fears none. + +GREMIO Hortensio, hark: + This gentleman is happily arrived, + My mind presumes, for his own good and ours. + +HORTENSIO I promised we would be contributors + And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoe'er. + +GREMIO And so we will, provided that he win her. + +GRUMIO I would I were as sure of a good dinner. + + [Enter TRANIO brave, and BIONDELLO] + +TRANIO Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold, + Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way + To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? + +BIONDELLO He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean? + +TRANIO Even he, Biondello. + +GREMIO Hark you, sir; you mean not her to-- + +TRANIO Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do? + +PETRUCHIO Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. + +TRANIO I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away. + +LUCENTIO Well begun, Tranio. + +HORTENSIO Sir, a word ere you go; + Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? + +TRANIO And if I be, sir, is it any offence? + +GREMIO No; if without more words you will get you hence. + +TRANIO Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free + For me as for you? + +GREMIO But so is not she. + +TRANIO For what reason, I beseech you? + +GREMIO For this reason, if you'll know, + That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio. + +HORTENSIO That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio. + +TRANIO Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen, + Do me this right; hear me with patience. + Baptista is a noble gentleman, + To whom my father is not all unknown; + And were his daughter fairer than she is, + She may more suitors have and me for one. + Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; + Then well one more may fair Bianca have: + And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one, + Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. + +GREMIO What! this gentleman will out-talk us all. + +LUCENTIO Sir, give him head: I know he'll prove a jade. + +PETRUCHIO Hortensio, to what end are all these words? + +HORTENSIO Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, + Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? + +TRANIO No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two, + The one as famous for a scolding tongue + As is the other for beauteous modesty. + +PETRUCHIO Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by. + +GREMIO Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules; + And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. + +PETRUCHIO Sir, understand you this of me in sooth: + The youngest daughter whom you hearken for + Her father keeps from all access of suitors, + And will not promise her to any man + Until the elder sister first be wed: + The younger then is free and not before. + +TRANIO If it be so, sir, that you are the man + Must stead us all and me amongst the rest, + And if you break the ice and do this feat, + Achieve the elder, set the younger free + For our access, whose hap shall be to have her + Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. + +HORTENSIO Sir, you say well and well you do conceive; + And since you do profess to be a suitor, + You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, + To whom we all rest generally beholding. + +TRANIO Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof, + Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, + And quaff carouses to our mistress' health, + And do as adversaries do in law, + Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. + + +GRUMIO | + | O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone. +BIONDELLO | + + +HORTENSIO The motion's good indeed and be it so, + Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Padua. A room in BAPTISTA'S house. + + + [Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA] + +BIANCA Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, + To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; + That I disdain: but for these other gawds, + Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself, + Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; + Or what you will command me will I do, + So well I know my duty to my elders. + +KATHARINA Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell + Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not. + +BIANCA Believe me, sister, of all the men alive + I never yet beheld that special face + Which I could fancy more than any other. + +KATHARINA Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio? + +BIANCA If you affect him, sister, here I swear + I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have + him. + +KATHARINA O then, belike, you fancy riches more: + You will have Gremio to keep you fair. + +BIANCA Is it for him you do envy me so? + Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive + You have but jested with me all this while: + I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. + +KATHARINA If that be jest, then all the rest was so. + + [Strikes her] + + [Enter BAPTISTA] + +BAPTISTA Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence? + Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. + Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. + For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit, + Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee? + When did she cross thee with a bitter word? + +KATHARINA Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged. + + [Flies after BIANCA] + +BAPTISTA What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. + + [Exit BIANCA] + +KATHARINA What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see + She is your treasure, she must have a husband; + I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day + And for your love to her lead apes in hell. + Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep + Till I can find occasion of revenge. + + [Exit] + +BAPTISTA Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I? + But who comes here? + + [Enter GREMIO, LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man; + PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO, + with BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books] + +GREMIO Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. + +BAPTISTA Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. + God save you, gentlemen! + +PETRUCHIO And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter + Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous? + +BAPTISTA I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina. + +GREMIO You are too blunt: go to it orderly. + +PETRUCHIO You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave. + I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, + That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, + Her affability and bashful modesty, + Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior, + Am bold to show myself a forward guest + Within your house, to make mine eye the witness + Of that report which I so oft have heard. + And, for an entrance to my entertainment, + I do present you with a man of mine, + + [Presenting HORTENSIO] + + Cunning in music and the mathematics, + To instruct her fully in those sciences, + Whereof I know she is not ignorant: + Accept of him, or else you do me wrong: + His name is Licio, born in Mantua. + +BAPTISTA You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake. + But for my daughter Katharina, this I know, + She is not for your turn, the more my grief. + +PETRUCHIO I see you do not mean to part with her, + Or else you like not of my company. + +BAPTISTA Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. + Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name? + +PETRUCHIO Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son, + A man well known throughout all Italy. + +BAPTISTA I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. + +GREMIO Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, + Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too: + Baccare! you are marvellous forward. + +PETRUCHIO O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. + +GREMIO I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your + wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am + sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself, + that have been more kindly beholding to you than + any, freely give unto you this young scholar, + + [Presenting LUCENTIO] + + that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning + in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other + in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray, + accept his service. + +BAPTISTA A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. + Welcome, good Cambio. + + [To TRANIO] + + But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger: + may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? + +TRANIO Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own, + That, being a stranger in this city here, + Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, + Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. + Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me, + In the preferment of the eldest sister. + This liberty is all that I request, + That, upon knowledge of my parentage, + I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo + And free access and favour as the rest: + And, toward the education of your daughters, + I here bestow a simple instrument, + And this small packet of Greek and Latin books: + If you accept them, then their worth is great. + +BAPTISTA Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray? + +TRANIO Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. + +BAPTISTA A mighty man of Pisa; by report + I know him well: you are very welcome, sir, + Take you the lute, and you the set of books; + You shall go see your pupils presently. + Holla, within! + + [Enter a Servant] + + Sirrah, lead these gentlemen + To my daughters; and tell them both, + These are their tutors: bid them use them well. + + [Exit Servant, with LUCENTIO and HORTENSIO, + BIONDELLO following] + + We will go walk a little in the orchard, + And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, + And so I pray you all to think yourselves. + +PETRUCHIO Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, + And every day I cannot come to woo. + You knew my father well, and in him me, + Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, + Which I have better'd rather than decreased: + Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, + What dowry shall I have with her to wife? + +BAPTISTA After my death the one half of my lands, + And in possession twenty thousand crowns. + +PETRUCHIO And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of + Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, + In all my lands and leases whatsoever: + Let specialties be therefore drawn between us, + That covenants may be kept on either hand. + +BAPTISTA Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, + That is, her love; for that is all in all. + +PETRUCHIO Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, + I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; + And where two raging fires meet together + They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: + Though little fire grows great with little wind, + Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: + So I to her and so she yields to me; + For I am rough and woo not like a babe. + +BAPTISTA Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! + But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. + +PETRUCHIO Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, + That shake not, though they blow perpetually. + + [Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke] + +BAPTISTA How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? + +HORTENSIO For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. + +BAPTISTA What, will my daughter prove a good musician? + +HORTENSIO I think she'll sooner prove a soldier + Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. + +BAPTISTA Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? + +HORTENSIO Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. + I did but tell her she mistook her frets, + And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; + When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, + 'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume + with them:' + And, with that word, she struck me on the head, + And through the instrument my pate made way; + And there I stood amazed for a while, + As on a pillory, looking through the lute; + While she did call me rascal fiddler + And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms, + As had she studied to misuse me so. + +PETRUCHIO Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; + I love her ten times more than e'er I did: + O, how I long to have some chat with her! + +BAPTISTA Well, go with me and be not so discomfited: + Proceed in practise with my younger daughter; + She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns. + Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, + Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? + +PETRUCHIO I pray you do. + + [Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO] + + I will attend her here, + And woo her with some spirit when she comes. + Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain + She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: + Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear + As morning roses newly wash'd with dew: + Say she be mute and will not speak a word; + Then I'll commend her volubility, + And say she uttereth piercing eloquence: + If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, + As though she bid me stay by her a week: + If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day + When I shall ask the banns and when be married. + But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. + + [Enter KATHARINA] + + Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. + +KATHARINA Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: + They call me Katharina that do talk of me. + +PETRUCHIO You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, + And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst; + But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom + Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, + For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, + Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; + Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, + Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, + Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, + Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife. + +KATHARINA Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither + Remove you hence: I knew you at the first + You were a moveable. + +PETRUCHIO Why, what's a moveable? + +KATHARINA A join'd-stool. + +PETRUCHIO Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. + +KATHARINA Asses are made to bear, and so are you. + +PETRUCHIO Women are made to bear, and so are you. + +KATHARINA No such jade as you, if me you mean. + +PETRUCHIO Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee; + For, knowing thee to be but young and light-- + +KATHARINA Too light for such a swain as you to catch; + And yet as heavy as my weight should be. + +PETRUCHIO Should be! should--buzz! + +KATHARINA Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. + +PETRUCHIO O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? + +KATHARINA Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. + +PETRUCHIO Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. + +KATHARINA If I be waspish, best beware my sting. + +PETRUCHIO My remedy is then, to pluck it out. + +KATHARINA Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies, + +PETRUCHIO Who knows not where a wasp does + wear his sting? In his tail. + +KATHARINA In his tongue. + +PETRUCHIO Whose tongue? + +KATHARINA Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. + +PETRUCHIO What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, + Good Kate; I am a gentleman. + +KATHARINA That I'll try. + + [She strikes him] + +PETRUCHIO I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. + +KATHARINA So may you lose your arms: + If you strike me, you are no gentleman; + And if no gentleman, why then no arms. + +PETRUCHIO A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! + +KATHARINA What is your crest? a coxcomb? + +PETRUCHIO A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. + +KATHARINA No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. + +KATHARINA It is my fashion, when I see a crab. + +PETRUCHIO Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. + +KATHARINA There is, there is. + +PETRUCHIO Then show it me. + +KATHARINA Had I a glass, I would. + +PETRUCHIO What, you mean my face? + +KATHARINA Well aim'd of such a young one. + +PETRUCHIO Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. + +KATHARINA Yet you are wither'd. + +PETRUCHIO 'Tis with cares. + +KATHARINA I care not. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so. + +KATHARINA I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. + +PETRUCHIO No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle. + 'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen, + And now I find report a very liar; + For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, + But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers: + Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, + Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, + Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk, + But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, + With gentle conference, soft and affable. + Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? + O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig + Is straight and slender and as brown in hue + As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels. + O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. + +KATHARINA Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. + +PETRUCHIO Did ever Dian so become a grove + As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? + O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; + And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful! + +KATHARINA Where did you study all this goodly speech? + +PETRUCHIO It is extempore, from my mother-wit. + +KATHARINA A witty mother! witless else her son. + +PETRUCHIO Am I not wise? + +KATHARINA Yes; keep you warm. + +PETRUCHIO Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed: + And therefore, setting all this chat aside, + Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented + That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on; + And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you. + Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; + For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, + Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, + Thou must be married to no man but me; + For I am he am born to tame you Kate, + And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate + Conformable as other household Kates. + Here comes your father: never make denial; + I must and will have Katharina to my wife. + + [Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO] + +BAPTISTA Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? + +PETRUCHIO How but well, sir? how but well? + It were impossible I should speed amiss. + +BAPTISTA Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps? + +KATHARINA Call you me daughter? now, I promise you + You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, + To wish me wed to one half lunatic; + A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack, + That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. + +PETRUCHIO Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world, + That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her: + If she be curst, it is for policy, + For she's not froward, but modest as the dove; + She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; + For patience she will prove a second Grissel, + And Roman Lucrece for her chastity: + And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together, + That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. + +KATHARINA I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. + +GREMIO Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee + hang'd first. + +TRANIO Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part! + +PETRUCHIO Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself: + If she and I be pleased, what's that to you? + 'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, + That she shall still be curst in company. + I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe + How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate! + She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss + She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, + That in a twink she won me to her love. + O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see, + How tame, when men and women are alone, + A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. + Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, + To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day. + Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; + I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine. + +BAPTISTA I know not what to say: but give me your hands; + God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. + + +GREMIO | + | Amen, say we: we will be witnesses. +TRANIO | + + +PETRUCHIO Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; + I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace: + We will have rings and things and fine array; + And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday. + + [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally] + +GREMIO Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? + +BAPTISTA Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part, + And venture madly on a desperate mart. + +TRANIO 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you: + 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. + +BAPTISTA The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. + +GREMIO No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. + But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter: + Now is the day we long have looked for: + I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. + +TRANIO And I am one that love Bianca more + Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. + +GREMIO Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. + +TRANIO Graybeard, thy love doth freeze. + +GREMIO But thine doth fry. + Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth. + +TRANIO But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. + +BAPTISTA Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife: + 'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both + That can assure my daughter greatest dower + Shall have my Bianca's love. + Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her? + +GREMIO First, as you know, my house within the city + Is richly furnished with plate and gold; + Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; + My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; + In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; + In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, + Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, + Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, + Valance of Venice gold in needlework, + Pewter and brass and all things that belong + To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm + I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, + Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, + And all things answerable to this portion. + Myself am struck in years, I must confess; + And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, + If whilst I live she will be only mine. + +TRANIO That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me: + I am my father's heir and only son: + If I may have your daughter to my wife, + I'll leave her houses three or four as good, + Within rich Pisa walls, as any one + Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; + Besides two thousand ducats by the year + Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. + What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio? + +GREMIO Two thousand ducats by the year of land! + My land amounts not to so much in all: + That she shall have; besides an argosy + That now is lying in Marseilles' road. + What, have I choked you with an argosy? + +TRANIO Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less + Than three great argosies; besides two galliases, + And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, + And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. + +GREMIO Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; + And she can have no more than all I have: + If you like me, she shall have me and mine. + +TRANIO Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, + By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied. + +BAPTISTA I must confess your offer is the best; + And, let your father make her the assurance, + She is your own; else, you must pardon me, + if you should die before him, where's her dower? + +TRANIO That's but a cavil: he is old, I young. + +GREMIO And may not young men die, as well as old? + +BAPTISTA Well, gentlemen, + I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know + My daughter Katharina is to be married: + Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca + Be bride to you, if you this assurance; + If not, Signior Gremio: + And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. + +GREMIO Adieu, good neighbour. + + [Exit BAPTISTA] + + Now I fear thee not: + Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool + To give thee all, and in his waning age + Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! + An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. + + [Exit] + +TRANIO A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! + Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. + 'Tis in my head to do my master good: + I see no reason but supposed Lucentio + Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;' + And that's a wonder: fathers commonly + Do get their children; but in this case of wooing, + A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Padua. BAPTISTA'S house. + + + [Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA] + +LUCENTIO Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: + Have you so soon forgot the entertainment + Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal? + +HORTENSIO But, wrangling pedant, this is + The patroness of heavenly harmony: + Then give me leave to have prerogative; + And when in music we have spent an hour, + Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. + +LUCENTIO Preposterous ass, that never read so far + To know the cause why music was ordain'd! + Was it not to refresh the mind of man + After his studies or his usual pain? + Then give me leave to read philosophy, + And while I pause, serve in your harmony. + +HORTENSIO Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. + +BIANCA Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, + To strive for that which resteth in my choice: + I am no breeching scholar in the schools; + I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, + But learn my lessons as I please myself. + And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: + Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; + His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. + +HORTENSIO You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? + +LUCENTIO That will be never: tune your instrument. + +BIANCA Where left we last? + +LUCENTIO Here, madam: + 'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; + Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' + +BIANCA Construe them. + +LUCENTIO 'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am + Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, + 'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love; + 'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes + a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,' + bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might + beguile the old pantaloon. + +HORTENSIO Madam, my instrument's in tune. + +BIANCA Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. + +LUCENTIO Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. + +BIANCA Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat + Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I + trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed + he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,' + despair not. + +HORTENSIO Madam, 'tis now in tune. + +LUCENTIO All but the base. + +HORTENSIO The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. + + [Aside] + + How fiery and forward our pedant is! + Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: + Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. + +BIANCA In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. + +LUCENTIO Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides + Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. + +BIANCA I must believe my master; else, I promise you, + I should be arguing still upon that doubt: + But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: + Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, + That I have been thus pleasant with you both. + +HORTENSIO You may go walk, and give me leave a while: + My lessons make no music in three parts. + +LUCENTIO Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, + + [Aside] + + And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, + Our fine musician groweth amorous. + +HORTENSIO Madam, before you touch the instrument, + To learn the order of my fingering, + I must begin with rudiments of art; + To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, + More pleasant, pithy and effectual, + Than hath been taught by any of my trade: + And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. + +BIANCA Why, I am past my gamut long ago. + +HORTENSIO Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. + +BIANCA [Reads] ''Gamut' I am, the ground of all accord, + 'A re,' to Plead Hortensio's passion; + 'B mi,' Bianca, take him for thy lord, + 'C fa ut,' that loves with all affection: + 'D sol re,' one clef, two notes have I: + 'E la mi,' show pity, or I die.' + Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not: + Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, + To change true rules for old inventions. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant Mistress, your father prays you leave your books + And help to dress your sister's chamber up: + You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. + +BIANCA Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone. + + [Exeunt BIANCA and Servant] + +LUCENTIO Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. + + [Exit] + +HORTENSIO But I have cause to pry into this pedant: + Methinks he looks as though he were in love: + Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble + To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, + Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, + Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. + + + [Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, + LUCENTIO, and others, attendants] + +BAPTISTA [To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the + 'pointed day. + That Katharina and Petruchio should be married, + And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. + What will be said? what mockery will it be, + To want the bridegroom when the priest attends + To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage! + What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? + +KATHARINA No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced + To give my hand opposed against my heart + Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; + Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure. + I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, + Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior: + And, to be noted for a merry man, + He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage, + Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns; + Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd. + Now must the world point at poor Katharina, + And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife, + If it would please him come and marry her!' + +TRANIO Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too. + Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, + Whatever fortune stays him from his word: + Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; + Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. + +KATHARINA Would Katharina had never seen him though! + + [Exit weeping, followed by BIANCA and others] + +BAPTISTA Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; + For such an injury would vex a very saint, + Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. + + [Enter BIONDELLO] + +BIONDELLO Master, master! news, old news, and such news as + you never heard of! + +BAPTISTA Is it new and old too? how may that be? + +BIONDELLO Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming? + +BAPTISTA Is he come? + +BIONDELLO Why, no, sir. + +BAPTISTA What then? + +BIONDELLO He is coming. + +BAPTISTA When will he be here? + +BIONDELLO When he stands where I am and sees you there. + +TRANIO But say, what to thine old news? + +BIONDELLO Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old + jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair + of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, + another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the + town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; + with two broken points: his horse hipped with an + old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; + besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose + in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected + with the fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with + spavins, rayed with yellows, past cure of the fives, + stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the + bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; + near-legged before and with, a half-chequed bit + and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being + restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been + often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth + six time pieced and a woman's crupper of velure, + which hath two letters for her name fairly set down + in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread. + +BAPTISTA Who comes with him? + +BIONDELLO O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned + like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a + kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red + and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty + fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a + very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian + footboy or a gentleman's lackey. + +TRANIO 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; + Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd. + +BAPTISTA I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. + +BIONDELLO Why, sir, he comes not. + +BAPTISTA Didst thou not say he comes? + +BIONDELLO Who? that Petruchio came? + +BAPTISTA Ay, that Petruchio came. + +BIONDELLO No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back. + +BAPTISTA Why, that's all one. + +BIONDELLO Nay, by Saint Jamy, + I hold you a penny, + A horse and a man + Is more than one, + And yet not many. + + [Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO] + +PETRUCHIO Come, where be these gallants? who's at home? + +BAPTISTA You are welcome, sir. + +PETRUCHIO And yet I come not well. + +BAPTISTA And yet you halt not. + +TRANIO Not so well apparell'd + As I wish you were. + +PETRUCHIO Were it better, I should rush in thus. + But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? + How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown: + And wherefore gaze this goodly company, + As if they saw some wondrous monument, + Some comet or unusual prodigy? + +BAPTISTA Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day: + First were we sad, fearing you would not come; + Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. + Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, + An eye-sore to our solemn festival! + +TRANIO And tells us, what occasion of import + Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, + And sent you hither so unlike yourself? + +PETRUCHIO Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: + Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, + Though in some part enforced to digress; + Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse + As you shall well be satisfied withal. + But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: + The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. + +TRANIO See not your bride in these unreverent robes: + Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine. + +PETRUCHIO Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her. + +BAPTISTA But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. + +PETRUCHIO Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words: + To me she's married, not unto my clothes: + Could I repair what she will wear in me, + As I can change these poor accoutrements, + 'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. + But what a fool am I to chat with you, + When I should bid good morrow to my bride, + And seal the title with a lovely kiss! + + [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO] + +TRANIO He hath some meaning in his mad attire: + We will persuade him, be it possible, + To put on better ere he go to church. + +BAPTISTA I'll after him, and see the event of this. + + [Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and attendants] + +TRANIO But to her love concerneth us to add + Her father's liking: which to bring to pass, + As I before unparted to your worship, + I am to get a man,--whate'er he be, + It skills not much. we'll fit him to our turn,-- + And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa; + And make assurance here in Padua + Of greater sums than I have promised. + So shall you quietly enjoy your hope, + And marry sweet Bianca with consent. + +LUCENTIO Were it not that my fellow-school-master + Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, + 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; + Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, + I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. + +TRANIO That by degrees we mean to look into, + And watch our vantage in this business: + We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, + The narrow-prying father, Minola, + The quaint musician, amorous Licio; + All for my master's sake, Lucentio. + + [Re-enter GREMIO] + + Signior Gremio, came you from the church? + +GREMIO As willingly as e'er I came from school. + +TRANIO And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? + +GREMIO A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed, + A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. + +TRANIO Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible. + +GREMIO Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. + +TRANIO Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. + +GREMIO Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him! + I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest + Should ask, if Katharina should be his wife, + 'Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he; and swore so loud, + That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book; + And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, + The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff + That down fell priest and book and book and priest: + 'Now take them up,' quoth he, 'if any list.' + +TRANIO What said the wench when he rose again? + +GREMIO Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore, + As if the vicar meant to cozen him. + But after many ceremonies done, + He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if + He had been aboard, carousing to his mates + After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel + And threw the sops all in the sexton's face; + Having no other reason + But that his beard grew thin and hungerly + And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. + This done, he took the bride about the neck + And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack + That at the parting all the church did echo: + And I seeing this came thence for very shame; + And after me, I know, the rout is coming. + Such a mad marriage never was before: + Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. + + [Music] + + [Re-enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, + HORTENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train] + + +PETRUCHIO Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains: + I know you think to dine with me to-day, + And have prepared great store of wedding cheer; + But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, + And therefore here I mean to take my leave. + +BAPTISTA Is't possible you will away to-night? + +PETRUCHIO I must away to-day, before night come: + Make it no wonder; if you knew my business, + You would entreat me rather go than stay. + And, honest company, I thank you all, + That have beheld me give away myself + To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife: + Dine with my father, drink a health to me; + For I must hence; and farewell to you all. + +TRANIO Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. + +PETRUCHIO It may not be. + +GREMIO Let me entreat you. + +PETRUCHIO It cannot be. + +KATHARINA Let me entreat you. + +PETRUCHIO I am content. + +KATHARINA Are you content to stay? + +PETRUCHIO I am content you shall entreat me stay; + But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. + +KATHARINA Now, if you love me, stay. + +PETRUCHIO Grumio, my horse. + +GRUMIO Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses. + +KATHARINA Nay, then, + Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day; + No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself. + The door is open, sir; there lies your way; + You may be jogging whiles your boots are green; + For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself: + 'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom, + That take it on you at the first so roundly. + +PETRUCHIO O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry. + +KATHARINA I will be angry: what hast thou to do? + Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. + +GREMIO Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. + +KATARINA Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner: + I see a woman may be made a fool, + If she had not a spirit to resist. + +PETRUCHIO They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command. + Obey the bride, you that attend on her; + Go to the feast, revel and domineer, + Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, + Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves: + But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. + Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret; + I will be master of what is mine own: + She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, + My household stuff, my field, my barn, + My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; + And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; + I'll bring mine action on the proudest he + That stops my way in Padua. Grumio, + Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves; + Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. + Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch + thee, Kate: + I'll buckler thee against a million. + + [Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and GRUMIO] + +BAPTISTA Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. + +GREMIO Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. + +TRANIO Of all mad matches never was the like. + +LUCENTIO Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister? + +BIANCA That, being mad herself, she's madly mated. + +GREMIO I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. + +BAPTISTA Neighbours and friends, though bride and + bridegroom wants + For to supply the places at the table, + You know there wants no junkets at the feast. + Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place: + And let Bianca take her sister's room. + +TRANIO Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? + +BAPTISTA She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I PETRUCHIO'S country house. + + + [Enter GRUMIO] + +GRUMIO Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and + all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever + man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent + before to make a fire, and they are coming after to + warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon + hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my + tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my + belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but + I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, + considering the weather, a taller man than I will + take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis. + + [Enter CURTIS] + +CURTIS Who is that calls so coldly? + +GRUMIO A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide + from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run + but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis. + +CURTIS Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? + +GRUMIO O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast + on no water. + +CURTIS Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? + +GRUMIO She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou + knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it + hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and + myself, fellow Curtis. + +CURTIS Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. + +GRUMIO Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and + so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a + fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, + whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon + feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office? + +CURTIS I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world? + +GRUMIO A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and + therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for + my master and mistress are almost frozen to death. + +CURTIS There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news. + +GRUMIO Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as + will thaw. + +CURTIS Come, you are so full of cony-catching! + +GRUMIO Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold. + Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house + trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the + serving-men in their new fustian, their white + stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? + Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, + the carpets laid, and every thing in order? + +CURTIS All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. + +GRUMIO First, know, my horse is tired; my master and + mistress fallen out. + +CURTIS How? + +GRUMIO Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby + hangs a tale. + +CURTIS Let's ha't, good Grumio. + +GRUMIO Lend thine ear. + +CURTIS Here. + +GRUMIO There. + + [Strikes him] + +CURTIS This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. + +GRUMIO And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this + cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech + listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a + foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,-- + +CURTIS Both of one horse? + +GRUMIO What's that to thee? + +CURTIS Why, a horse. + +GRUMIO Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, + thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she + under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how + miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her + with the horse upon her, how he beat me because + her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt + to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed, + that never prayed before, how I cried, how the + horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I + lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory, + which now shall die in oblivion and thou return + unexperienced to thy grave. + +CURTIS By this reckoning he is more shrew than she. + +GRUMIO Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall + find when he comes home. But what talk I of this? + Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, + Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be + sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their + garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy + with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair + of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their + hands. Are they all ready? + +CURTIS They are. + +GRUMIO Call them forth. + +CURTIS Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to + countenance my mistress. + +GRUMIO Why, she hath a face of her own. + +CURTIS Who knows not that? + +GRUMIO Thou, it seems, that calls for company to + countenance her. + +CURTIS I call them forth to credit her. + +GRUMIO Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. + + [Enter four or five Serving-men] + +NATHANIEL Welcome home, Grumio! + +PHILIP How now, Grumio! + +JOSEPH What, Grumio! + +NICHOLAS Fellow Grumio! + +NATHANIEL How now, old lad? + +GRUMIO Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow, + you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce + companions, is all ready, and all things neat? + +NATHANIEL All things is ready. How near is our master? + +GRUMIO E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be + not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master. + + [Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA] + +PETRUCHIO Where be these knaves? What, no man at door + To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse! + Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? + +ALL SERVING-MEN Here, here, sir; here, sir. + +PETRUCHIO Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! + You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms! + What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? + Where is the foolish knave I sent before? + +GRUMIO Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. + +PETRUCHIO You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! + Did I not bid thee meet me in the park, + And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? + +GRUMIO Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made, + And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel; + There was no link to colour Peter's hat, + And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing: + There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory; + The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly; + Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. + +PETRUCHIO Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. + + [Exeunt Servants] + + [Singing] + + Where is the life that late I led-- + Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.-- + Sound, sound, sound, sound! + + [Re-enter Servants with supper] + + Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. + Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when? + + [Sings] + + It was the friar of orders grey, + As he forth walked on his way:-- + Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry: + Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. + + [Strikes him] + + Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho! + Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence, + And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither: + One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with. + Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? + + [Enter one with water] + + Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. + You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? + + [Strikes him] + +KATHARINA Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling. + +PETRUCHIO A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave! + Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. + Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I? + What's this? mutton? + +First Servant Ay. + +PETRUCHIO Who brought it? + +PETER I. + +PETRUCHIO 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. + What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook? + How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser, + And serve it thus to me that love it not? + Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all; + + [Throws the meat, &c. about the stage] + + You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves! + What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight. + +KATHARINA I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet: + The meat was well, if you were so contented. + +PETRUCHIO I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away; + And I expressly am forbid to touch it, + For it engenders choler, planteth anger; + And better 'twere that both of us did fast, + Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric, + Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. + Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended, + And, for this night, we'll fast for company: + Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter Servants severally] + +NATHANIEL Peter, didst ever see the like? + +PETER He kills her in her own humour. + + [Re-enter CURTIS] + +GRUMIO Where is he? + +CURTIS In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her; + And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul, + Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak, + And sits as one new-risen from a dream. + Away, away! for he is coming hither. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter PETRUCHIO] + +PETRUCHIO Thus have I politicly begun my reign, + And 'tis my hope to end successfully. + My falcon now is sharp and passing empty; + And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged, + For then she never looks upon her lure. + Another way I have to man my haggard, + To make her come and know her keeper's call, + That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites + That bate and beat and will not be obedient. + She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat; + Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not; + As with the meat, some undeserved fault + I'll find about the making of the bed; + And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster, + This way the coverlet, another way the sheets: + Ay, and amid this hurly I intend + That all is done in reverend care of her; + And in conclusion she shall watch all night: + And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl + And with the clamour keep her still awake. + This is a way to kill a wife with kindness; + And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. + He that knows better how to tame a shrew, + Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. + + + [Enter TRANIO and HORTENSIO] + +TRANIO Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca + Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? + I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. + +HORTENSIO Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, + Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. + + [Enter BIANCA and LUCENTIO] + +LUCENTIO Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? + +BIANCA What, master, read you? first resolve me that. + +LUCENTIO I read that I profess, the Art to Love. + +BIANCA And may you prove, sir, master of your art! + +LUCENTIO While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart! + +HORTENSIO Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray, + You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca + Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio. + +TRANIO O despiteful love! unconstant womankind! + I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. + +HORTENSIO Mistake no more: I am not Licio, + Nor a musician, as I seem to be; + But one that scorn to live in this disguise, + For such a one as leaves a gentleman, + And makes a god of such a cullion: + Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio. + +TRANIO Signior Hortensio, I have often heard + Of your entire affection to Bianca; + And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness, + I will with you, if you be so contented, + Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. + +HORTENSIO See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio, + Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow + Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her, + As one unworthy all the former favours + That I have fondly flatter'd her withal. + +TRANIO And here I take the unfeigned oath, + Never to marry with her though she would entreat: + Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him! + +HORTENSIO Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! + For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, + I will be married to a wealthy widow, + Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me + As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. + And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. + Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, + Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, + In resolution as I swore before. + + [Exit] + +TRANIO Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace + As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! + Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, + And have forsworn you with Hortensio. + +BIANCA Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me? + +TRANIO Mistress, we have. + +LUCENTIO Then we are rid of Licio. + +TRANIO I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, + That shall be wood and wedded in a day. + +BIANCA God give him joy! + +TRANIO Ay, and he'll tame her. + +BIANCA He says so, Tranio. + +TRANIO Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. + +BIANCA The taming-school! what, is there such a place? + +TRANIO Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; + That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, + To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. + + [Enter BIONDELLO] + +BIONDELLO O master, master, I have watch'd so long + That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied + An ancient angel coming down the hill, + Will serve the turn. + +TRANIO What is he, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, + I know not what; but format in apparel, + In gait and countenance surely like a father. + +LUCENTIO And what of him, Tranio? + +TRANIO If he be credulous and trust my tale, + I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, + And give assurance to Baptista Minola, + As if he were the right Vincentio + Take in your love, and then let me alone. + + [Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA] + + [Enter a Pedant] + +Pedant God save you, sir! + +TRANIO And you, sir! you are welcome. + Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? + +Pedant Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: + But then up farther, and as for as Rome; + And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. + +TRANIO What countryman, I pray? + +Pedant Of Mantua. + +TRANIO Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! + And come to Padua, careless of your life? + +Pedant My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard. + +TRANIO 'Tis death for any one in Mantua + To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? + Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke, + For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, + Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: + 'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come, + You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. + +Pedant Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; + For I have bills for money by exchange + From Florence and must here deliver them. + +TRANIO Well, sir, to do you courtesy, + This will I do, and this I will advise you: + First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? +Pedant Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, + Pisa renowned for grave citizens. + +TRANIO Among them know you one Vincentio? + +Pedant I know him not, but I have heard of him; + A merchant of incomparable wealth. + +TRANIO He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, + In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. + +BIONDELLO [Aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster, + and all one. + +TRANIO To save your life in this extremity, + This favour will I do you for his sake; + And think it not the worst of an your fortunes + That you are like to Sir Vincentio. + His name and credit shall you undertake, + And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: + Look that you take upon you as you should; + You understand me, sir: so shall you stay + Till you have done your business in the city: + If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. + +Pedant O sir, I do; and will repute you ever + The patron of my life and liberty. + +TRANIO Then go with me to make the matter good. + This, by the way, I let you understand; + my father is here look'd for every day, + To pass assurance of a dower in marriage + 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: + In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: + Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A room in PETRUCHIO'S house. + + + [Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO] + +GRUMIO No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life. + +KATHARINA The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: + What, did he marry me to famish me? + Beggars, that come unto my father's door, + Upon entreaty have a present aims; + If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: + But I, who never knew how to entreat, + Nor never needed that I should entreat, + Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, + With oath kept waking and with brawling fed: + And that which spites me more than all these wants, + He does it under name of perfect love; + As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, + 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. + I prithee go and get me some repast; + I care not what, so it be wholesome food. + +GRUMIO What say you to a neat's foot? + +KATHARINA 'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it. + +GRUMIO I fear it is too choleric a meat. + How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? + +KATHARINA I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me. + +GRUMIO I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. + What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? + +KATHARINA A dish that I do love to feed upon. + +GRUMIO Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. + +KATHARINA Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest. + +GRUMIO Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard, + Or else you get no beef of Grumio. + +KATHARINA Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. + +GRUMIO Why then, the mustard without the beef. + +KATHARINA Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, + + [Beats him] + + That feed'st me with the very name of meat: + Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, + That triumph thus upon my misery! + Go, get thee gone, I say. + + [Enter PETRUCHIO and HORTENSIO with meat] + +PETRUCHIO How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? + +HORTENSIO Mistress, what cheer? + +KATHARINA Faith, as cold as can be. + +PETRUCHIO Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. + Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am + To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: + I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. + What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; + And all my pains is sorted to no proof. + Here, take away this dish. + +KATHARINA I pray you, let it stand. + +PETRUCHIO The poorest service is repaid with thanks; + And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. + +KATHARINA I thank you, sir. + +HORTENSIO Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. + Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. + +PETRUCHIO [Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. + Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! + Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, + Will we return unto thy father's house + And revel it as bravely as the best, + With silken coats and caps and golden rings, + With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things; + With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, + With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery. + What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure, + To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. + + [Enter Tailor] + + Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; + Lay forth the gown. + + [Enter Haberdasher] + + What news with you, sir? + +Haberdasher Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. + +PETRUCHIO Why, this was moulded on a porringer; + A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: + Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, + A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap: + Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. + +KATHARINA I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time, + And gentlewomen wear such caps as these + +PETRUCHIO When you are gentle, you shall have one too, + And not till then. + +HORTENSIO [Aside] That will not be in haste. + +KATHARINA Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; + And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: + Your betters have endured me say my mind, + And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. + My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, + Or else my heart concealing it will break, + And rather than it shall, I will be free + Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. + +PETRUCHIO Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, + A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: + I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. + +KATHARINA Love me or love me not, I like the cap; + And it I will have, or I will have none. + + [Exit Haberdasher] + +PETRUCHIO Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. + O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? + What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: + What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart? + Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, + Like to a censer in a barber's shop: + Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? + +HORTENSIO [Aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown. + +Tailor You bid me make it orderly and well, + According to the fashion and the time. + +PETRUCHIO Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, + I did not bid you mar it to the time. + Go, hop me over every kennel home, + For you shall hop without my custom, sir: + I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it. + +KATHARINA I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, + More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: + Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. + +PETRUCHIO Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. + +Tailor She says your worship means to make + a puppet of her. + +PETRUCHIO O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, + thou thimble, + Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! + Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! + Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread? + Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; + Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard + As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest! + I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown. + +Tailor Your worship is deceived; the gown is made + Just as my master had direction: + Grumio gave order how it should be done. + +GRUMIO I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff. + +Tailor But how did you desire it should be made? + +GRUMIO Marry, sir, with needle and thread. + +Tailor But did you not request to have it cut? + +GRUMIO Thou hast faced many things. + +Tailor I have. + +GRUMIO Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not + me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto + thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did + not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest. + +Tailor Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify + +PETRUCHIO Read it. + +GRUMIO The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so. + +Tailor [Reads] 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:' + +GRUMIO Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in + the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom + of brown thread: I said a gown. + +PETRUCHIO Proceed. + +Tailor [Reads] 'With a small compassed cape:' + +GRUMIO I confess the cape. + +Tailor [Reads] 'With a trunk sleeve:' + +GRUMIO I confess two sleeves. + +Tailor [Reads] 'The sleeves curiously cut.' + +PETRUCHIO Ay, there's the villany. + +GRUMIO Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. + I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and + sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, + though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. + +Tailor This is true that I say: an I had thee + in place where, thou shouldst know it. + +GRUMIO I am for thee straight: take thou the + bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. + +HORTENSIO God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds. + +PETRUCHIO Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. + +GRUMIO You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress. + +PETRUCHIO Go, take it up unto thy master's use. + +GRUMIO Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress' + gown for thy master's use! + +PETRUCHIO Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? + +GRUMIO O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for: + Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! + O, fie, fie, fie! + +PETRUCHIO [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. + Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more. + +HORTENSIO Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow: + Take no unkindness of his hasty words: + Away! I say; commend me to thy master. + + [Exit Tailor] + +PETRUCHIO Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's + Even in these honest mean habiliments: + Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor; + For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; + And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, + So honour peereth in the meanest habit. + What is the jay more precious than the lark, + Because his fathers are more beautiful? + Or is the adder better than the eel, + Because his painted skin contents the eye? + O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse + For this poor furniture and mean array. + if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me; + And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith, + To feast and sport us at thy father's house. + Go, call my men, and let us straight to him; + And bring our horses unto Long-lane end; + There will we mount, and thither walk on foot + Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, + And well we may come there by dinner-time. + +KATHARINA I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; + And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there. + +PETRUCHIO It shall be seven ere I go to horse: + Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, + You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone: + I will not go to-day; and ere I do, + It shall be what o'clock I say it is. + +HORTENSIO [Aside] Why, so this gallant will command the sun. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house. + + + [Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like VINCENTIO] + +TRANIO Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call? + +Pedant Ay, what else? and but I be deceived + Signior Baptista may remember me, + Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, + Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. + +TRANIO 'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case, + With such austerity as 'longeth to a father. + +Pedant I warrant you. + + [Enter BIONDELLO] + + But, sir, here comes your boy; + 'Twere good he were school'd. + +TRANIO Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello, + Now do your duty throughly, I advise you: + Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. + +BIONDELLO Tut, fear not me. + +TRANIO But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? + +BIONDELLO I told him that your father was at Venice, + And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. + +TRANIO Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink. + Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir. + + [Enter BAPTISTA and LUCENTIO] + + Signior Baptista, you are happily met. + + [To the Pedant] + + Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of: + I pray you stand good father to me now, + Give me Bianca for my patrimony. + +Pedant Soft son! + Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua + To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio + Made me acquainted with a weighty cause + Of love between your daughter and himself: + And, for the good report I hear of you + And for the love he beareth to your daughter + And she to him, to stay him not too long, + I am content, in a good father's care, + To have him match'd; and if you please to like + No worse than I, upon some agreement + Me shall you find ready and willing + With one consent to have her so bestow'd; + For curious I cannot be with you, + Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. + +BAPTISTA Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: + Your plainness and your shortness please me well. + Right true it is, your son Lucentio here + Doth love my daughter and she loveth him, + Or both dissemble deeply their affections: + And therefore, if you say no more than this, + That like a father you will deal with him + And pass my daughter a sufficient dower, + The match is made, and all is done: + Your son shall have my daughter with consent. + +TRANIO I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best + We be affied and such assurance ta'en + As shall with either part's agreement stand? + +BAPTISTA Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know, + Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants: + Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still; + And happily we might be interrupted. + +TRANIO Then at my lodging, an it like you: + There doth my father lie; and there, this night, + We'll pass the business privately and well. + Send for your daughter by your servant here: + My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. + The worst is this, that, at so slender warning, + You are like to have a thin and slender pittance. + +BAPTISTA It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home, + And bid Bianca make her ready straight; + And, if you will, tell what hath happened, + Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua, + And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. + +BIONDELLO I pray the gods she may with all my heart! + +TRANIO Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. + + [Exit BIONDELLO] + + Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? + Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer: + Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. + +BAPTISTA I follow you. + + [Exeunt TRANIO, Pedant, and BAPTISTA] + + [Re-enter BIONDELLO] + +BIONDELLO Cambio! + +LUCENTIO What sayest thou, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? + +LUCENTIO Biondello, what of that? + +BIONDELLO Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to + expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. + +LUCENTIO I pray thee, moralize them. + +BIONDELLO Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the + deceiving father of a deceitful son. + +LUCENTIO And what of him? + +BIONDELLO His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. + +LUCENTIO And then? + +BIONDELLO The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your + command at all hours. + +LUCENTIO And what of all this? + +BIONDELLO I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a + counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, + 'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the + church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient + honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for, + I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for + ever and a day. + +LUCENTIO Hearest thou, Biondello? + +BIONDELLO I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an + afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to + stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu, + sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint + Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against + you come with your appendix. + + [Exit] + +LUCENTIO I may, and will, if she be so contented: + She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt? + Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: + It shall go hard if Cambio go without her. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V A public road. + + + [Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Servants] + +PETRUCHIO Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's. + Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! + +KATHARINA The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now. + +PETRUCHIO I say it is the moon that shines so bright. + +KATHARINA I know it is the sun that shines so bright. + +PETRUCHIO Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, + It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, + Or ere I journey to your father's house. + Go on, and fetch our horses back again. + Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd! + +HORTENSIO Say as he says, or we shall never go. + +KATHARINA Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, + And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: + An if you please to call it a rush-candle, + Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. + +PETRUCHIO I say it is the moon. + +KATHARINA I know it is the moon. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun. + +KATHARINA Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: + But sun it is not, when you say it is not; + And the moon changes even as your mind. + What you will have it named, even that it is; + And so it shall be so for Katharina. + +HORTENSIO Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. + +PETRUCHIO Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, + And not unluckily against the bias. + But, soft! company is coming here. + + [Enter VINCENTIO] + + [To VINCENTIO] + + Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away? + Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, + Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? + Such war of white and red within her cheeks! + What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, + As those two eyes become that heavenly face? + Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. + Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. + +HORTENSIO A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. + +KATHARINA Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, + Whither away, or where is thy abode? + Happy the parents of so fair a child; + Happier the man, whom favourable stars + Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! + +PETRUCHIO Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad: + This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd, + And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. + +KATHARINA Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, + That have been so bedazzled with the sun + That everything I look on seemeth green: + Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; + Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. + +PETRUCHIO Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known + Which way thou travellest: if along with us, + We shall be joyful of thy company. + +VINCENTIO Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, + That with your strange encounter much amazed me, + My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa; + And bound I am to Padua; there to visit + A son of mine, which long I have not seen. + +PETRUCHIO What is his name? + +VINCENTIO Lucentio, gentle sir. + +PETRUCHIO Happily we met; the happier for thy son. + And now by law, as well as reverend age, + I may entitle thee my loving father: + The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, + Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, + Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem, + Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth; + Beside, so qualified as may beseem + The spouse of any noble gentleman. + Let me embrace with old Vincentio, + And wander we to see thy honest son, + Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. + +VINCENTIO But is it true? or else is it your pleasure, + Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest + Upon the company you overtake? + +HORTENSIO I do assure thee, father, so it is. + +PETRUCHIO Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; + For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. + + [Exeunt all but HORTENSIO] + +HORTENSIO Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. + Have to my widow! and if she be froward, + Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Padua. Before LUCENTIO'S house. + + + [GREMIO discovered. Enter behind BIONDELLO, + LUCENTIO, and BIANCA] + +BIONDELLO Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready. + +LUCENTIO I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee + at home; therefore leave us. + +BIONDELLO Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and + then come back to my master's as soon as I can. + + [Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO] + +GREMIO I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. + + [Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO, + with Attendants] + +PETRUCHIO Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house: + My father's bears more toward the market-place; + Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. + +VINCENTIO You shall not choose but drink before you go: + I think I shall command your welcome here, + And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. + + [Knocks] + +GREMIO They're busy within; you were best knock louder. + + [Pedant looks out of the window] + +Pedant What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? + +VINCENTIO Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? + +Pedant He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. + +VINCENTIO What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to + make merry withal? + +Pedant Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall + need none, so long as I live. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. + Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, + I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is + come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him. + +Pedant Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here + looking out at the window. + +VINCENTIO Art thou his father? + +Pedant Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her. + +PETRUCHIO [To VINCENTIO] Why, how now, gentleman! why, this + is flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name. + +Pedant Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to + cozen somebody in this city under my countenance. + + [Re-enter BIONDELLO] + +BIONDELLO I have seen them in the church together: God send + 'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old + master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing. + +VINCENTIO [Seeing BIONDELLO] + + Come hither, crack-hemp. + +BIONDELLO Hope I may choose, sir. + +VINCENTIO Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me? + +BIONDELLO Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I + never saw you before in all my life. + +VINCENTIO What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see + thy master's father, Vincentio? + +BIONDELLO What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir: + see where he looks out of the window. + +VINCENTIO Is't so, indeed. + + [Beats BIONDELLO] + +BIONDELLO Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me. + + [Exit] + +Pedant Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! + + [Exit from above] + +PETRUCHIO Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of + this controversy. + + [They retire] + + [Re-enter Pedant below; TRANIO, BAPTISTA, and Servants] + +TRANIO Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? + +VINCENTIO What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal + gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet + hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I + am undone! I am undone! while I play the good + husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at + the university. + +TRANIO How now! what's the matter? + +BAPTISTA What, is the man lunatic? + +TRANIO Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your + habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir, + what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I + thank my good father, I am able to maintain it. + +VINCENTIO Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. + +BAPTISTA You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do + you think is his name? + +VINCENTIO His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought + him up ever since he was three years old, and his + name is Tranio. + +Pedant Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is + mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. + +VINCENTIO Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold + on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my + son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio? + +TRANIO Call forth an officer. + + [Enter one with an Officer] + + Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, + I charge you see that he be forthcoming. + +VINCENTIO Carry me to the gaol! + +GREMIO Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison. + +BAPTISTA Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison. + +GREMIO Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be + cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this + is the right Vincentio. + +Pedant Swear, if thou darest. + +GREMIO Nay, I dare not swear it. + +TRANIO Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. + +GREMIO Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. + +BAPTISTA Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him! + +VINCENTIO Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O + monstrous villain! + + [Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA] + +BIONDELLO O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him, + forswear him, or else we are all undone. + +LUCENTIO [Kneeling] Pardon, sweet father. + +VINCENTIO Lives my sweet son? + + [Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and Pedant, as fast + as may be] + +BIANCA Pardon, dear father. + +BAPTISTA How hast thou offended? + Where is Lucentio? + +LUCENTIO Here's Lucentio, + Right son to the right Vincentio; + That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, + While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne. + +GREMIO Here's packing, with a witness to deceive us all! + +VINCENTIO Where is that damned villain Tranio, + That faced and braved me in this matter so? + +BAPTISTA Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? + +BIANCA Cambio is changed into Lucentio. + +LUCENTIO Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love + Made me exchange my state with Tranio, + While he did bear my countenance in the town; + And happily I have arrived at the last + Unto the wished haven of my bliss. + What Tranio did, myself enforced him to; + Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. + +VINCENTIO I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent + me to the gaol. + +BAPTISTA But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter + without asking my good will? + +VINCENTIO Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but + I will in, to be revenged for this villany. + + [Exit] + +BAPTISTA And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. + + [Exit] + +LUCENTIO Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. + + [Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA] + +GREMIO My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest, + Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. + + [Exit] + +KATHARINA Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado. + +PETRUCHIO First kiss me, Kate, and we will. + +KATHARINA What, in the midst of the street? + +PETRUCHIO What, art thou ashamed of me? + +KATHARINA No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss. + +PETRUCHIO Why, then let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away. + +KATHARINA Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay. + +PETRUCHIO Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate: + Better once than never, for never too late. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Padua. LUCENTIO'S house. + + + [Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, + LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, + and Widow, TRANIO, BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO the + Serving-men with Tranio bringing in a banquet] + +LUCENTIO At last, though long, our jarring notes agree: + And time it is, when raging war is done, + To smile at scapes and perils overblown. + My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, + While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. + Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, + And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, + Feast with the best, and welcome to my house: + My banquet is to close our stomachs up, + After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; + For now we sit to chat as well as eat. + +PETRUCHIO Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! + +BAPTISTA Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. + +PETRUCHIO Padua affords nothing but what is kind. + +HORTENSIO For both our sakes, I would that word were true. + +PETRUCHIO Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. + +Widow Then never trust me, if I be afeard. + +PETRUCHIO You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: + I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. + +Widow He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. + +PETRUCHIO Roundly replied. + +KATHARINA Mistress, how mean you that? + +Widow Thus I conceive by him. + +PETRUCHIO Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? + +HORTENSIO My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. + +PETRUCHIO Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. + +KATHARINA 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:' + I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. + +Widow Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, + Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe: + And now you know my meaning, + +KATHARINA A very mean meaning. + +Widow Right, I mean you. + +KATHARINA And I am mean indeed, respecting you. + +PETRUCHIO To her, Kate! + +HORTENSIO To her, widow! + +PETRUCHIO A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. + +HORTENSIO That's my office. + +PETRUCHIO Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad! + + [Drinks to HORTENSIO] + +BAPTISTA How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? + +GREMIO Believe me, sir, they butt together well. + +BIANCA Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body + Would say your head and butt were head and horn. + +VINCENTIO Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? + +BIANCA Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun, + Have at you for a bitter jest or two! + +BIANCA Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush; + And then pursue me as you draw your bow. + You are welcome all. + + [Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow] + +PETRUCHIO She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio. + This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; + Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. + +TRANIO O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound, + Which runs himself and catches for his master. + +PETRUCHIO A good swift simile, but something currish. + +TRANIO 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself: + 'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. + +BAPTISTA O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. + +LUCENTIO I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. + +HORTENSIO Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? + +PETRUCHIO A' has a little gall'd me, I confess; + And, as the jest did glance away from me, + 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. + +BAPTISTA Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, + I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. + +PETRUCHIO Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance + Let's each one send unto his wife; + And he whose wife is most obedient + To come at first when he doth send for her, + Shall win the wager which we will propose. + +HORTENSIO Content. What is the wager? + +LUCENTIO Twenty crowns. + +PETRUCHIO Twenty crowns! + I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, + But twenty times so much upon my wife. + +LUCENTIO A hundred then. + +HORTENSIO Content. + +PETRUCHIO A match! 'tis done. + +HORTENSIO Who shall begin? + +LUCENTIO That will I. + Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. + +BIONDELLO I go. + + [Exit] + +BAPTISTA Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes. + +LUCENTIO I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. + + [Re-enter BIONDELLO] + + How now! what news? + +BIONDELLO Sir, my mistress sends you word + That she is busy and she cannot come. + +PETRUCHIO How! she is busy and she cannot come! + Is that an answer? + +GREMIO Ay, and a kind one too: + Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. + +PETRUCHIO I hope better. + +HORTENSIO Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife + To come to me forthwith. + + [Exit BIONDELLO] + +PETRUCHIO O, ho! entreat her! + Nay, then she must needs come. + +HORTENSIO I am afraid, sir, + Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. + + [Re-enter BIONDELLO] + + Now, where's my wife? + +BIONDELLO She says you have some goodly jest in hand: + She will not come: she bids you come to her. + +PETRUCHIO Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, + Intolerable, not to be endured! + Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; + Say, I command her to come to me. + + [Exit GRUMIO] + +HORTENSIO I know her answer. + +PETRUCHIO What? + +HORTENSIO She will not. + +PETRUCHIO The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. + +BAPTISTA Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina! + + [Re-enter KATARINA] + +KATHARINA What is your will, sir, that you send for me? + +PETRUCHIO Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? + +KATHARINA They sit conferring by the parlor fire. + +PETRUCHIO Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come. + Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands: + Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. + + [Exit KATHARINA] + +LUCENTIO Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. + +HORTENSIO And so it is: I wonder what it bodes. + +PETRUCHIO Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life, + And awful rule and right supremacy; + And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy? + +BAPTISTA Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio! + The wager thou hast won; and I will add + Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; + Another dowry to another daughter, + For she is changed, as she had never been. + +PETRUCHIO Nay, I will win my wager better yet + And show more sign of her obedience, + Her new-built virtue and obedience. + See where she comes and brings your froward wives + As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. + + [Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow] + + Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not: + Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot. + +Widow Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, + Till I be brought to such a silly pass! + +BIANCA Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? + +LUCENTIO I would your duty were as foolish too: + The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, + Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. + +BIANCA The more fool you, for laying on my duty. + +PETRUCHIO Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women + What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. + +Widow Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling. + +PETRUCHIO Come on, I say; and first begin with her. + +Widow She shall not. + +PETRUCHIO I say she shall: and first begin with her. + +KATHARINA Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, + And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, + To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: + It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, + Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, + And in no sense is meet or amiable. + A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, + Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; + And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty + Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. + Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, + Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, + And for thy maintenance commits his body + To painful labour both by sea and land, + To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, + Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; + And craves no other tribute at thy hands + But love, fair looks and true obedience; + Too little payment for so great a debt. + Such duty as the subject owes the prince + Even such a woman oweth to her husband; + And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, + And not obedient to his honest will, + What is she but a foul contending rebel + And graceless traitor to her loving lord? + I am ashamed that women are so simple + To offer war where they should kneel for peace; + Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, + When they are bound to serve, love and obey. + Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, + Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, + But that our soft conditions and our hearts + Should well agree with our external parts? + Come, come, you froward and unable worms! + My mind hath been as big as one of yours, + My heart as great, my reason haply more, + To bandy word for word and frown for frown; + But now I see our lances are but straws, + Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, + That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. + Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, + And place your hands below your husband's foot: + In token of which duty, if he please, + My hand is ready; may it do him ease. + +PETRUCHIO Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. + +LUCENTIO Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't. + +VINCENTIO 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. + +LUCENTIO But a harsh hearing when women are froward. + +PETRUCHIO Come, Kate, we'll to bed. + We three are married, but you two are sped. + + [To LUCENTIO] + + 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; + And, being a winner, God give you good night! + + [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA] + +HORTENSIO Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew. + +LUCENTIO 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so. + + [Exeunt] + THE TEMPEST + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +ALONSO King of Naples. + +SEBASTIAN his brother. + +PROSPERO the right Duke of Milan. + +ANTONIO his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. + +FERDINAND son to the King of Naples. + +GONZALO an honest old Counsellor. + + +ADRIAN | + | Lords. +FRANCISCO | + + +CALIBAN a savage and deformed Slave. + +TRINCULO a Jester. + +STEPHANO a drunken Butler. + + Master of a Ship. (Master:) + + Boatswain. (Boatswain:) + + Mariners. (Mariners:) + +MIRANDA daughter to Prospero. + +ARIEL an airy Spirit. + + +IRIS | + | +CERES | + | +JUNO | presented by Spirits. + | +Nymphs | + | +Reapers | + + + Other Spirits attending on Prospero. + + +SCENE A ship at Sea: an island. + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise + of thunder and lightning heard. + + + [Enter a Master and a Boatswain] + +Master Boatswain! + +Boatswain Here, master: what cheer? + +Master Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely, + or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. + + [Exit] + + [Enter Mariners] + +Boatswain Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! + yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the + master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, + if room enough! + + [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, + GONZALO, and others] + +ALONSO Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? + Play the men. + +Boatswain I pray now, keep below. + +ANTONIO Where is the master, boatswain? + +Boatswain Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your + cabins: you do assist the storm. + +GONZALO Nay, good, be patient. + +Boatswain When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers + for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not. + +GONZALO Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. + +Boatswain None that I more love than myself. You are a + counsellor; if you can command these elements to + silence, and work the peace of the present, we will + not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you + cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make + yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of + the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out + of our way, I say. + + [Exit] + +GONZALO I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he + hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is + perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his + hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable, + for our own doth little advantage. If he be not + born to be hanged, our case is miserable. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter Boatswain] + +Boatswain Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring + her to try with main-course. + + [A cry within] + + A plague upon this howling! they are louder than + the weather or our office. + + [Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO] + + Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er + and drown? Have you a mind to sink? + +SEBASTIAN A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, + incharitable dog! + +Boatswain Work you then. + +ANTONIO Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker! + We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. + +GONZALO I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were + no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an + unstanched wench. + +Boatswain Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to + sea again; lay her off. + + [Enter Mariners wet] + +Mariners All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! + +Boatswain What, must our mouths be cold? + +GONZALO The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them, + For our case is as theirs. + +SEBASTIAN I'm out of patience. + +ANTONIO We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards: + This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning + The washing of ten tides! + +GONZALO He'll be hang'd yet, + Though every drop of water swear against it + And gape at widest to glut him. + + [A confused noise within: 'Mercy on us!'-- + 'We split, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and + children!'-- + 'Farewell, brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!'] + +ANTONIO Let's all sink with the king. + +SEBASTIAN Let's take leave of him. + + [Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN] + +GONZALO Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an + acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any + thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain + die a dry death. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The island. Before PROSPERO'S cell. + + + [Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA] + +MIRANDA If by your art, my dearest father, you have + Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. + The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, + But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, + Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered + With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel, + Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her, + Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock + Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd. + Had I been any god of power, I would + Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere + It should the good ship so have swallow'd and + The fraughting souls within her. + +PROSPERO Be collected: + No more amazement: tell your piteous heart + There's no harm done. + +MIRANDA O, woe the day! + +PROSPERO No harm. + I have done nothing but in care of thee, + Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who + Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing + Of whence I am, nor that I am more better + Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, + And thy no greater father. + +MIRANDA More to know + Did never meddle with my thoughts. + +PROSPERO 'Tis time + I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand, + And pluck my magic garment from me. So: + + [Lays down his mantle] + + Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. + The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd + The very virtue of compassion in thee, + I have with such provision in mine art + So safely ordered that there is no soul-- + No, not so much perdition as an hair + Betid to any creature in the vessel + Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down; + For thou must now know farther. + +MIRANDA You have often + Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd + And left me to a bootless inquisition, + Concluding 'Stay: not yet.' + +PROSPERO The hour's now come; + The very minute bids thee ope thine ear; + Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember + A time before we came unto this cell? + I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not + Out three years old. + +MIRANDA Certainly, sir, I can. + +PROSPERO By what? by any other house or person? + Of any thing the image tell me that + Hath kept with thy remembrance. + +MIRANDA 'Tis far off + And rather like a dream than an assurance + That my remembrance warrants. Had I not + Four or five women once that tended me? + +PROSPERO Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it + That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else + In the dark backward and abysm of time? + If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here, + How thou camest here thou mayst. + +MIRANDA But that I do not. + +PROSPERO Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since, + Thy father was the Duke of Milan and + A prince of power. + +MIRANDA Sir, are not you my father? + +PROSPERO Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and + She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father + Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir + And princess no worse issued. + +MIRANDA O the heavens! + What foul play had we, that we came from thence? + Or blessed was't we did? + +PROSPERO Both, both, my girl: + By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence, + But blessedly holp hither. + +MIRANDA O, my heart bleeds + To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to, + Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. + +PROSPERO My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio-- + I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should + Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself + Of all the world I loved and to him put + The manage of my state; as at that time + Through all the signories it was the first + And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed + In dignity, and for the liberal arts + Without a parallel; those being all my study, + The government I cast upon my brother + And to my state grew stranger, being transported + And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle-- + Dost thou attend me? + +MIRANDA Sir, most heedfully. + +PROSPERO Being once perfected how to grant suits, + How to deny them, who to advance and who + To trash for over-topping, new created + The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em, + Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key + Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state + To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was + The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, + And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not. + +MIRANDA O, good sir, I do. + +PROSPERO I pray thee, mark me. + I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated + To closeness and the bettering of my mind + With that which, but by being so retired, + O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother + Awaked an evil nature; and my trust, + Like a good parent, did beget of him + A falsehood in its contrary as great + As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, + A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded, + Not only with what my revenue yielded, + But what my power might else exact, like one + Who having into truth, by telling of it, + Made such a sinner of his memory, + To credit his own lie, he did believe + He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution + And executing the outward face of royalty, + With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing-- + Dost thou hear? + +MIRANDA Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. + +PROSPERO To have no screen between this part he play'd + And him he play'd it for, he needs will be + Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library + Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties + He thinks me now incapable; confederates-- + So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples + To give him annual tribute, do him homage, + Subject his coronet to his crown and bend + The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!-- + To most ignoble stooping. + +MIRANDA O the heavens! + +PROSPERO Mark his condition and the event; then tell me + If this might be a brother. + +MIRANDA I should sin + To think but nobly of my grandmother: + Good wombs have borne bad sons. + +PROSPERO Now the condition. + The King of Naples, being an enemy + To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; + Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises + Of homage and I know not how much tribute, + Should presently extirpate me and mine + Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan + With all the honours on my brother: whereon, + A treacherous army levied, one midnight + Fated to the purpose did Antonio open + The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness, + The ministers for the purpose hurried thence + Me and thy crying self. + +MIRANDA Alack, for pity! + I, not remembering how I cried out then, + Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint + That wrings mine eyes to't. + +PROSPERO Hear a little further + And then I'll bring thee to the present business + Which now's upon's; without the which this story + Were most impertinent. + +MIRANDA Wherefore did they not + That hour destroy us? + +PROSPERO Well demanded, wench: + My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, + So dear the love my people bore me, nor set + A mark so bloody on the business, but + With colours fairer painted their foul ends. + In few, they hurried us aboard a bark, + Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared + A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, + Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats + Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us, + To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh + To the winds whose pity, sighing back again, + Did us but loving wrong. + +MIRANDA Alack, what trouble + Was I then to you! + +PROSPERO O, a cherubim + Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile. + Infused with a fortitude from heaven, + When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt, + Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me + An undergoing stomach, to bear up + Against what should ensue. + +MIRANDA How came we ashore? + +PROSPERO By Providence divine. + Some food we had and some fresh water that + A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, + Out of his charity, being then appointed + Master of this design, did give us, with + Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries, + Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, + Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me + From mine own library with volumes that + I prize above my dukedom. + +MIRANDA Would I might + But ever see that man! + +PROSPERO Now I arise: + + [Resumes his mantle] + + Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. + Here in this island we arrived; and here + Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit + Than other princesses can that have more time + For vainer hours and tutors not so careful. + +MIRANDA Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir, + For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason + For raising this sea-storm? + +PROSPERO Know thus far forth. + By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune, + Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies + Brought to this shore; and by my prescience + I find my zenith doth depend upon + A most auspicious star, whose influence + If now I court not but omit, my fortunes + Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions: + Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness, + And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. + + [MIRANDA sleeps] + + Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. + Approach, my Ariel, come. + + [Enter ARIEL] + +ARIEL All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come + To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly, + To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride + On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task + Ariel and all his quality. + +PROSPERO Hast thou, spirit, + Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee? + +ARIEL To every article. + I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, + Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, + I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide, + And burn in many places; on the topmast, + The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, + Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors + O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary + And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks + Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune + Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble, + Yea, his dread trident shake. + +PROSPERO My brave spirit! + Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil + Would not infect his reason? + +ARIEL Not a soul + But felt a fever of the mad and play'd + Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners + Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, + Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand, + With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,-- + Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty + And all the devils are here.' + +PROSPERO Why that's my spirit! + But was not this nigh shore? + +ARIEL Close by, my master. + +PROSPERO But are they, Ariel, safe? + +ARIEL Not a hair perish'd; + On their sustaining garments not a blemish, + But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me, + In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. + The king's son have I landed by himself; + Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs + In an odd angle of the isle and sitting, + His arms in this sad knot. + +PROSPERO Of the king's ship + The mariners say how thou hast disposed + And all the rest o' the fleet. + +ARIEL Safely in harbour + Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once + Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew + From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid: + The mariners all under hatches stow'd; + Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour, + I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet + Which I dispersed, they all have met again + And are upon the Mediterranean flote, + Bound sadly home for Naples, + Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd + And his great person perish. + +PROSPERO Ariel, thy charge + Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work. + What is the time o' the day? + +ARIEL Past the mid season. + +PROSPERO At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now + Must by us both be spent most preciously. + +ARIEL Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains, + Let me remember thee what thou hast promised, + Which is not yet perform'd me. + +PROSPERO How now? moody? + What is't thou canst demand? + +ARIEL My liberty. + +PROSPERO Before the time be out? no more! + +ARIEL I prithee, + Remember I have done thee worthy service; + Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served + Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise + To bate me a full year. + +PROSPERO Dost thou forget + From what a torment I did free thee? + +ARIEL No. + +PROSPERO Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze + Of the salt deep, + To run upon the sharp wind of the north, + To do me business in the veins o' the earth + When it is baked with frost. + +ARIEL I do not, sir. + +PROSPERO Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot + The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy + Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? + +ARIEL No, sir. + +PROSPERO Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. + +ARIEL Sir, in Argier. + +PROSPERO O, was she so? I must + Once in a month recount what thou hast been, + Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax, + For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible + To enter human hearing, from Argier, + Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did + They would not take her life. Is not this true? + +ARIEL Ay, sir. + +PROSPERO This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child + And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, + As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant; + And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate + To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, + Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, + By help of her more potent ministers + And in her most unmitigable rage, + Into a cloven pine; within which rift + Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain + A dozen years; within which space she died + And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans + As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-- + Save for the son that she did litter here, + A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with + A human shape. + +ARIEL Yes, Caliban her son. + +PROSPERO Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban + Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st + What torment I did find thee in; thy groans + Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts + Of ever angry bears: it was a torment + To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax + Could not again undo: it was mine art, + When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape + The pine and let thee out. + +ARIEL I thank thee, master. + +PROSPERO If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak + And peg thee in his knotty entrails till + Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters. + +ARIEL Pardon, master; + I will be correspondent to command + And do my spiriting gently. + +PROSPERO Do so, and after two days + I will discharge thee. + +ARIEL That's my noble master! + What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? + +PROSPERO Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject + To no sight but thine and mine, invisible + To every eyeball else. Go take this shape + And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence! + + [Exit ARIEL] + + Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake! + +MIRANDA The strangeness of your story put + Heaviness in me. + +PROSPERO Shake it off. Come on; + We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never + Yields us kind answer. + +MIRANDA 'Tis a villain, sir, + I do not love to look on. + +PROSPERO But, as 'tis, + We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, + Fetch in our wood and serves in offices + That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! + Thou earth, thou! speak. + +CALIBAN [Within] There's wood enough within. + +PROSPERO Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee: + Come, thou tortoise! when? + + [Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph] + + Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel, + Hark in thine ear. + +ARIEL My lord it shall be done. + + [Exit] + +PROSPERO Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself + Upon thy wicked dam, come forth! + + [Enter CALIBAN] + +CALIBAN As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd + With raven's feather from unwholesome fen + Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye + And blister you all o'er! + +PROSPERO For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, + Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins + Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, + All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd + As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging + Than bees that made 'em. + +CALIBAN I must eat my dinner. + This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, + Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first, + Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me + Water with berries in't, and teach me how + To name the bigger light, and how the less, + That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee + And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, + The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile: + Cursed be I that did so! All the charms + Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! + For I am all the subjects that you have, + Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me + In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me + The rest o' the island. + +PROSPERO Thou most lying slave, + Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, + Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee + In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate + The honour of my child. + +CALIBAN O ho, O ho! would't had been done! + Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else + This isle with Calibans. + +PROSPERO Abhorred slave, + Which any print of goodness wilt not take, + Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, + Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour + One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, + Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like + A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes + With words that made them known. But thy vile race, + Though thou didst learn, had that in't which + good natures + Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou + Deservedly confined into this rock, + Who hadst deserved more than a prison. + +CALIBAN You taught me language; and my profit on't + Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you + For learning me your language! + +PROSPERO Hag-seed, hence! + Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best, + To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice? + If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly + What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps, + Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar + That beasts shall tremble at thy din. + +CALIBAN No, pray thee. + + [Aside] + + I must obey: his art is of such power, + It would control my dam's god, Setebos, + and make a vassal of him. + +PROSPERO So, slave; hence! + + [Exit CALIBAN] + + [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; + FERDINAND following] + + ARIEL'S song. + + Come unto these yellow sands, + And then take hands: + Courtsied when you have and kiss'd + The wild waves whist, + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. + Hark, hark! + + [Burthen [dispersedly, within] Bow-wow] + + The watch-dogs bark! + + [Burthen Bow-wow] + + Hark, hark! I hear + The strain of strutting chanticleer + Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. + +FERDINAND Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth? + It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon + Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank, + Weeping again the king my father's wreck, + This music crept by me upon the waters, + Allaying both their fury and my passion + With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, + Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone. + No, it begins again. + + [ARIEL sings] + + Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made; + Those are pearls that were his eyes: + Nothing of him that doth fade + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell + + [Burthen Ding-dong] + + Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell. + +FERDINAND The ditty does remember my drown'd father. + This is no mortal business, nor no sound + That the earth owes. I hear it now above me. + +PROSPERO The fringed curtains of thine eye advance + And say what thou seest yond. + +MIRANDA What is't? a spirit? + Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, + It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit. + +PROSPERO No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses + As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest + Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd + With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him + A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows + And strays about to find 'em. + +MIRANDA I might call him + A thing divine, for nothing natural + I ever saw so noble. + +PROSPERO [Aside] It goes on, I see, + As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee + Within two days for this. + +FERDINAND Most sure, the goddess + On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer + May know if you remain upon this island; + And that you will some good instruction give + How I may bear me here: my prime request, + Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! + If you be maid or no? + +MIRANDA No wonder, sir; + But certainly a maid. + +FERDINAND My language! heavens! + I am the best of them that speak this speech, + Were I but where 'tis spoken. + +PROSPERO How? the best? + What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? + +FERDINAND A single thing, as I am now, that wonders + To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; + And that he does I weep: myself am Naples, + Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld + The king my father wreck'd. + +MIRANDA Alack, for mercy! + +FERDINAND Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan + And his brave son being twain. + +PROSPERO [Aside] The Duke of Milan + And his more braver daughter could control thee, + If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight + They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel, + I'll set thee free for this. + + [To FERDINAND] + + A word, good sir; + I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. + +MIRANDA Why speaks my father so ungently? This + Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first + That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father + To be inclined my way! + +FERDINAND O, if a virgin, + And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you + The queen of Naples. + +PROSPERO Soft, sir! one word more. + + [Aside] + + They are both in either's powers; but this swift business + I must uneasy make, lest too light winning + Make the prize light. + + [To FERDINAND] + + One word more; I charge thee + That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp + The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself + Upon this island as a spy, to win it + From me, the lord on't. + +FERDINAND No, as I am a man. + +MIRANDA There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: + If the ill spirit have so fair a house, + Good things will strive to dwell with't. + +PROSPERO Follow me. + Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; + I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: + Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be + The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks + Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. + +FERDINAND No; + I will resist such entertainment till + Mine enemy has more power. + + [Draws, and is charmed from moving] + +MIRANDA O dear father, + Make not too rash a trial of him, for + He's gentle and not fearful. + +PROSPERO What? I say, + My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; + Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience + Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward, + For I can here disarm thee with this stick + And make thy weapon drop. + +MIRANDA Beseech you, father. + +PROSPERO Hence! hang not on my garments. + +MIRANDA Sir, have pity; + I'll be his surety. + +PROSPERO Silence! one word more + Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! + An advocate for an imposter! hush! + Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, + Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! + To the most of men this is a Caliban + And they to him are angels. + +MIRANDA My affections + Are then most humble; I have no ambition + To see a goodlier man. + +PROSPERO Come on; obey: + Thy nerves are in their infancy again + And have no vigour in them. + +FERDINAND So they are; + My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. + My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, + The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, + To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, + Might I but through my prison once a day + Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth + Let liberty make use of; space enough + Have I in such a prison. + +PROSPERO [Aside] It works. + + [To FERDINAND] + + Come on. + Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! + + [To FERDINAND] + + Follow me. + + [To ARIEL] + + Hark what thou else shalt do me. + +MIRANDA Be of comfort; + My father's of a better nature, sir, + Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted + Which now came from him. + +PROSPERO Thou shalt be free + As mountain winds: but then exactly do + All points of my command. + +ARIEL To the syllable. + +PROSPERO Come, follow. Speak not for him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Another part of the island. + + + [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, + ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] + +GONZALO Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, + So have we all, of joy; for our escape + Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe + Is common; every day some sailor's wife, + The masters of some merchant and the merchant + Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, + I mean our preservation, few in millions + Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh + Our sorrow with our comfort. + +ALONSO Prithee, peace. + +SEBASTIAN He receives comfort like cold porridge. + +ANTONIO The visitor will not give him o'er so. + +SEBASTIAN Look he's winding up the watch of his wit; + by and by it will strike. + +GONZALO Sir,-- + +SEBASTIAN One: tell. + +GONZALO When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, + Comes to the entertainer-- + +SEBASTIAN A dollar. + +GONZALO Dolour comes to him, indeed: you + have spoken truer than you purposed. + +SEBASTIAN You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. + +GONZALO Therefore, my lord,-- + +ANTONIO Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! + +ALONSO I prithee, spare. + +GONZALO Well, I have done: but yet,-- + +SEBASTIAN He will be talking. + +ANTONIO Which, of he or Adrian, for a good + wager, first begins to crow? + +SEBASTIAN The old cock. + +ANTONIO The cockerel. + +SEBASTIAN Done. The wager? + +ANTONIO A laughter. + +SEBASTIAN A match! + +ADRIAN Though this island seem to be desert,-- + +SEBASTIAN Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. + +ADRIAN Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,-- + +SEBASTIAN Yet,-- + +ADRIAN Yet,-- + +ANTONIO He could not miss't. + +ADRIAN It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate + temperance. + +ANTONIO Temperance was a delicate wench. + +SEBASTIAN Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. + +ADRIAN The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. + +SEBASTIAN As if it had lungs and rotten ones. + +ANTONIO Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. + +GONZALO Here is everything advantageous to life. + +ANTONIO True; save means to live. + +SEBASTIAN Of that there's none, or little. + +GONZALO How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! + +ANTONIO The ground indeed is tawny. + +SEBASTIAN With an eye of green in't. + +ANTONIO He misses not much. + +SEBASTIAN No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. + +GONZALO But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost + beyond credit,-- + +SEBASTIAN As many vouched rarities are. + +GONZALO That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in + the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and + glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with + salt water. + +ANTONIO If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not + say he lies? + +SEBASTIAN Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report + +GONZALO Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we + put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of + the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. + +SEBASTIAN 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. + +ADRIAN Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to + their queen. + +GONZALO Not since widow Dido's time. + +ANTONIO Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? + widow Dido! + +SEBASTIAN What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord, + how you take it! + +ADRIAN 'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: + she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. + +GONZALO This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. + +ADRIAN Carthage? + +GONZALO I assure you, Carthage. + +SEBASTIAN His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath + raised the wall and houses too. + +ANTONIO What impossible matter will he make easy next? + +SEBASTIAN I think he will carry this island home in his pocket + and give it his son for an apple. + +ANTONIO And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring + forth more islands. + +GONZALO Ay. + +ANTONIO Why, in good time. + +GONZALO Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now + as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage + of your daughter, who is now queen. + +ANTONIO And the rarest that e'er came there. + +SEBASTIAN Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. + +ANTONIO O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. + +GONZALO Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I + wore it? I mean, in a sort. + +ANTONIO That sort was well fished for. + +GONZALO When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? + +ALONSO You cram these words into mine ears against + The stomach of my sense. Would I had never + Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, + My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, + Who is so far from Italy removed + I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir + Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish + Hath made his meal on thee? + +FRANCISCO Sir, he may live: + I saw him beat the surges under him, + And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, + Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted + The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head + 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd + Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke + To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, + As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt + He came alive to land. + +ALONSO No, no, he's gone. + +SEBASTIAN Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, + That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, + But rather lose her to an African; + Where she at least is banish'd from your eye, + Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. + +ALONSO Prithee, peace. + +SEBASTIAN You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise + By all of us, and the fair soul herself + Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at + Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your + son, + I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have + More widows in them of this business' making + Than we bring men to comfort them: + The fault's your own. + +ALONSO So is the dear'st o' the loss. + +GONZALO My lord Sebastian, + The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness + And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, + When you should bring the plaster. + +SEBASTIAN Very well. + +ANTONIO And most chirurgeonly. + +GONZALO It is foul weather in us all, good sir, + When you are cloudy. + +SEBASTIAN Foul weather? + +ANTONIO Very foul. + +GONZALO Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,-- + +ANTONIO He'ld sow't with nettle-seed. + +SEBASTIAN Or docks, or mallows. + +GONZALO And were the king on't, what would I do? + +SEBASTIAN 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. + +GONZALO I' the commonwealth I would by contraries + Execute all things; for no kind of traffic + Would I admit; no name of magistrate; + Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, + And use of service, none; contract, succession, + Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; + No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; + No occupation; all men idle, all; + And women too, but innocent and pure; + No sovereignty;-- + +SEBASTIAN Yet he would be king on't. + +ANTONIO The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the + beginning. + +GONZALO All things in common nature should produce + Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, + Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, + Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, + Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, + To feed my innocent people. + +SEBASTIAN No marrying 'mong his subjects? + +ANTONIO None, man; all idle: whores and knaves. + +GONZALO I would with such perfection govern, sir, + To excel the golden age. + +SEBASTIAN God save his majesty! + +ANTONIO Long live Gonzalo! + +GONZALO And,--do you mark me, sir? + +ALONSO Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. + +GONZALO I do well believe your highness; and + did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, + who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that + they always use to laugh at nothing. + +ANTONIO 'Twas you we laughed at. + +GONZALO Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing + to you: so you may continue and laugh at + nothing still. + +ANTONIO What a blow was there given! + +SEBASTIAN An it had not fallen flat-long. + +GONZALO You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift + the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue + in it five weeks without changing. + + [Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music] + +SEBASTIAN We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. + +ANTONIO Nay, good my lord, be not angry. + +GONZALO No, I warrant you; I will not adventure + my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh + me asleep, for I am very heavy? + +ANTONIO Go sleep, and hear us. + + [All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] + +ALONSO What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes + Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find + They are inclined to do so. + +SEBASTIAN Please you, sir, + Do not omit the heavy offer of it: + It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, + It is a comforter. + +ANTONIO We two, my lord, + Will guard your person while you take your rest, + And watch your safety. + +ALONSO Thank you. Wondrous heavy. + + [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] + +SEBASTIAN What a strange drowsiness possesses them! + +ANTONIO It is the quality o' the climate. + +SEBASTIAN Why + Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not + Myself disposed to sleep. + +ANTONIO Nor I; my spirits are nimble. + They fell together all, as by consent; + They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, + Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:-- + And yet me thinks I see it in thy face, + What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and + My strong imagination sees a crown + Dropping upon thy head. + +SEBASTIAN What, art thou waking? + +ANTONIO Do you not hear me speak? + +SEBASTIAN I do; and surely + It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st + Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? + This is a strange repose, to be asleep + With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, + And yet so fast asleep. + +ANTONIO Noble Sebastian, + Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st + Whiles thou art waking. + +SEBASTIAN Thou dost snore distinctly; + There's meaning in thy snores. + +ANTONIO I am more serious than my custom: you + Must be so too, if heed me; which to do + Trebles thee o'er. + +SEBASTIAN Well, I am standing water. + +ANTONIO I'll teach you how to flow. + +SEBASTIAN Do so: to ebb + Hereditary sloth instructs me. + +ANTONIO O, + If you but knew how you the purpose cherish + Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, + You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed, + Most often do so near the bottom run + By their own fear or sloth. + +SEBASTIAN Prithee, say on: + The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim + A matter from thee, and a birth indeed + Which throes thee much to yield. + +ANTONIO Thus, sir: + Although this lord of weak remembrance, this, + Who shall be of as little memory + When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,-- + For he's a spirit of persuasion, only + Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive, + 'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd + And he that sleeps here swims. + +SEBASTIAN I have no hope + That he's undrown'd. + +ANTONIO O, out of that 'no hope' + What great hope have you! no hope that way is + Another way so high a hope that even + Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, + But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me + That Ferdinand is drown'd? + +SEBASTIAN He's gone. + +ANTONIO Then, tell me, + Who's the next heir of Naples? + +SEBASTIAN Claribel. + +ANTONIO She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells + Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples + Can have no note, unless the sun were post-- + The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins + Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom? + We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, + And by that destiny to perform an act + Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come + In yours and my discharge. + +SEBASTIAN What stuff is this! how say you? + 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; + So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions + There is some space. + +ANTONIO A space whose every cubit + Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel + Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, + And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death + That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse + Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples + As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate + As amply and unnecessarily + As this Gonzalo; I myself could make + A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore + The mind that I do! what a sleep were this + For your advancement! Do you understand me? + +SEBASTIAN Methinks I do. + +ANTONIO And how does your content + Tender your own good fortune? + +SEBASTIAN I remember + You did supplant your brother Prospero. + +ANTONIO True: + And look how well my garments sit upon me; + Much feater than before: my brother's servants + Were then my fellows; now they are my men. + +SEBASTIAN But, for your conscience? + +ANTONIO Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe, + 'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not + This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, + That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they + And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, + No better than the earth he lies upon, + If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; + Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, + Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, + To the perpetual wink for aye might put + This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who + Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, + They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; + They'll tell the clock to any business that + We say befits the hour. + +SEBASTIAN Thy case, dear friend, + Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, + I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke + Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest; + And I the king shall love thee. + +ANTONIO Draw together; + And when I rear my hand, do you the like, + To fall it on Gonzalo. + +SEBASTIAN O, but one word. + + [They talk apart] + + [Re-enter ARIEL, invisible] + +ARIEL My master through his art foresees the danger + That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth-- + For else his project dies--to keep them living. + + [Sings in GONZALO's ear] + + While you here do snoring lie, + Open-eyed conspiracy + His time doth take. + If of life you keep a care, + Shake off slumber, and beware: + Awake, awake! + +ANTONIO Then let us both be sudden. + +GONZALO Now, good angels + Preserve the king. + + [They wake] + +ALONSO Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn? + Wherefore this ghastly looking? + +GONZALO What's the matter? + +SEBASTIAN Whiles we stood here securing your repose, + Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing + Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you? + It struck mine ear most terribly. + +ALONSO I heard nothing. + +ANTONIO O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear, + To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar + Of a whole herd of lions. + +ALONSO Heard you this, Gonzalo? + +GONZALO Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, + And that a strange one too, which did awake me: + I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, + I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, + That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, + Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons. + +ALONSO Lead off this ground; and let's make further search + For my poor son. + +GONZALO Heavens keep him from these beasts! + For he is, sure, i' the island. + +ALONSO Lead away. + +ARIEL Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: + So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Another part of the island. + + + [Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of + thunder heard] + +CALIBAN All the infections that the sun sucks up + From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him + By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me + And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, + Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire, + Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark + Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but + For every trifle are they set upon me; + Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me + And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which + Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount + Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I + All wound with adders who with cloven tongues + Do hiss me into madness. + + [Enter TRINCULO] + + Lo, now, lo! + + Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me + For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat; + Perchance he will not mind me. + +TRINCULO Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off + any weather at all, and another storm brewing; + I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black + cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul + bombard that would shed his liquor. If it + should thunder as it did before, I know not + where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot + choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we + here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: + he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish- + like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor- + John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, + as once I was, and had but this fish painted, + not a holiday fool there but would give a piece + of silver: there would this monster make a + man; any strange beast there makes a man: + when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame + beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead + Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like + arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose + my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish, + but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a + thunderbolt. + + [Thunder] + + Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to + creep under his gaberdine; there is no other + shelter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with + strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the + dregs of the storm be past. + + [Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand] + +STEPHANO I shall no more to sea, to sea, + Here shall I die ashore-- + + This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's + funeral: well, here's my comfort. [Drinks] + + [Sings] + + The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, + The gunner and his mate + Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery, + But none of us cared for Kate; + For she had a tongue with a tang, + Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! + She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch, + Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch: + Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang! + + This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. + [Drinks] + +CALIBAN Do not torment me: Oh! + +STEPHANO What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put + tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I + have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your + four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as + ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground; + and it shall be said so again while Stephano + breathes at's nostrils. + +CALIBAN The spirit torments me; Oh! + +STEPHANO This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who + hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil + should he learn our language? I will give him some + relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him + and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a + present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather. + +CALIBAN Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster. + +STEPHANO He's in his fit now and does not talk after the + wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have + never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his + fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will + not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that + hath him, and that soundly. + +CALIBAN Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I + know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. + +STEPHANO Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that + which will give language to you, cat: open your + mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you, + and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend: + open your chaps again. + +TRINCULO I should know that voice: it should be--but he is + drowned; and these are devils: O defend me! + +STEPHANO Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster! + His forward voice now is to speak well of his + friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches + and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will + recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I + will pour some in thy other mouth. + +TRINCULO Stephano! + +STEPHANO Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is + a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no + long spoon. + +TRINCULO Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and + speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy + good friend Trinculo. + +STEPHANO If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee + by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs, + these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How + camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can + he vent Trinculos? + +TRINCULO I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But + art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art + not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me + under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of + the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O + Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped! + +STEPHANO Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant. + +CALIBAN [Aside] These be fine things, an if they be + not sprites. + That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor. + I will kneel to him. + +STEPHANO How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither? + swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I + escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors + heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of + the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was + cast ashore. + +CALIBAN I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject; + for the liquor is not earthly. + +STEPHANO Here; swear then how thou escapedst. + +TRINCULO Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a + duck, I'll be sworn. + +STEPHANO Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a + duck, thou art made like a goose. + +TRINCULO O Stephano. hast any more of this? + +STEPHANO The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the + sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! + how does thine ague? + +CALIBAN Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven? + +STEPHANO Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i' + the moon when time was. + +CALIBAN I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee: + My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush. + +STEPHANO Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish + it anon with new contents swear. + +TRINCULO By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! + I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i' + the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well + drawn, monster, in good sooth! + +CALIBAN I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; + And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. + +TRINCULO By this light, a most perfidious and drunken + monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle. + +CALIBAN I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject. + +STEPHANO Come on then; down, and swear. + +TRINCULO I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed + monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my + heart to beat him,-- + +STEPHANO Come, kiss. + +TRINCULO But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster! + +CALIBAN I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries; + I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough. + A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! + I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, + Thou wondrous man. + +TRINCULO A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a + Poor drunkard! + +CALIBAN I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; + And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts; + Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how + To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee + To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee + Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? + +STEPHANO I prithee now, lead the way without any more + talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company + else being drowned, we will inherit here: here; + bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by + and by again. + +CALIBAN [Sings drunkenly] + Farewell master; farewell, farewell! + +TRINCULO A howling monster: a drunken monster! + +CALIBAN No more dams I'll make for fish + Nor fetch in firing + At requiring; + Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish + 'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban + Has a new master: get a new man. + + Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, + hey-day, freedom! + +STEPHANO O brave monster! Lead the way. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S Cell. + + + [Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log] + +FERDINAND There be some sports are painful, and their labour + Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness + Are nobly undergone and most poor matters + Point to rich ends. This my mean task + Would be as heavy to me as odious, but + The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead + And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is + Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed, + And he's composed of harshness. I must remove + Some thousands of these logs and pile them up, + Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress + Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness + Had never like executor. I forget: + But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, + Most busy lest, when I do it. + + [Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen] + +MIRANDA Alas, now, pray you, + Work not so hard: I would the lightning had + Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile! + Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns, + 'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father + Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; + He's safe for these three hours. + +FERDINAND O most dear mistress, + The sun will set before I shall discharge + What I must strive to do. + +MIRANDA If you'll sit down, + I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that; + I'll carry it to the pile. + +FERDINAND No, precious creature; + I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, + Than you should such dishonour undergo, + While I sit lazy by. + +MIRANDA It would become me + As well as it does you: and I should do it + With much more ease; for my good will is to it, + And yours it is against. + +PROSPERO Poor worm, thou art infected! + This visitation shows it. + +MIRANDA You look wearily. + +FERDINAND No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me + When you are by at night. I do beseech you-- + Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers-- + What is your name? + +MIRANDA Miranda.--O my father, + I have broke your hest to say so! + +FERDINAND Admired Miranda! + Indeed the top of admiration! worth + What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady + I have eyed with best regard and many a time + The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage + Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues + Have I liked several women; never any + With so fun soul, but some defect in her + Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed + And put it to the foil: but you, O you, + So perfect and so peerless, are created + Of every creature's best! + +MIRANDA I do not know + One of my sex; no woman's face remember, + Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen + More that I may call men than you, good friend, + And my dear father: how features are abroad, + I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, + The jewel in my dower, I would not wish + Any companion in the world but you, + Nor can imagination form a shape, + Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle + Something too wildly and my father's precepts + I therein do forget. + +FERDINAND I am in my condition + A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; + I would, not so!--and would no more endure + This wooden slavery than to suffer + The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak: + The very instant that I saw you, did + My heart fly to your service; there resides, + To make me slave to it; and for your sake + Am I this patient log--man. + +MIRANDA Do you love me? + +FERDINAND O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound + And crown what I profess with kind event + If I speak true! if hollowly, invert + What best is boded me to mischief! I + Beyond all limit of what else i' the world + Do love, prize, honour you. + +MIRANDA I am a fool + To weep at what I am glad of. + +PROSPERO Fair encounter + Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace + On that which breeds between 'em! + +FERDINAND Wherefore weep you? + +MIRANDA At mine unworthiness that dare not offer + What I desire to give, and much less take + What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; + And all the more it seeks to hide itself, + The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! + And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! + I am your wife, it you will marry me; + If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow + You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, + Whether you will or no. + +FERDINAND My mistress, dearest; + And I thus humble ever. + +MIRANDA My husband, then? + +FERDINAND Ay, with a heart as willing + As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. + +MIRANDA And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell + Till half an hour hence. + +FERDINAND A thousand thousand! + + [Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally] + +PROSPERO So glad of this as they I cannot be, + Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing + At nothing can be more. I'll to my book, + For yet ere supper-time must I perform + Much business appertaining. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Another part of the island. + + + [Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] + +STEPHANO Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink + water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and + board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me. + +TRINCULO Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They + say there's but five upon this isle: we are three + of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the + state totters. + +STEPHANO Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes + are almost set in thy head. + +TRINCULO Where should they be set else? he were a brave + monster indeed, if they were set in his tail. + +STEPHANO My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack: + for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I + could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off + and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, + monster, or my standard. + +TRINCULO Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard. + +STEPHANO We'll not run, Monsieur Monster. + +TRINCULO Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say + nothing neither. + +STEPHANO Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a + good moon-calf. + +CALIBAN How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. + I'll not serve him; he's not valiant. + +TRINCULO Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to + justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou, + was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much + sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, + being but half a fish and half a monster? + +CALIBAN Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? + +TRINCULO 'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural! + +CALIBAN Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee. + +STEPHANO Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you + prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's + my subject and he shall not suffer indignity. + +CALIBAN I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to + hearken once again to the suit I made to thee? + +STEPHANO Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand, + and so shall Trinculo. + + [Enter ARIEL, invisible] + +CALIBAN As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a + sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. + +ARIEL Thou liest. + +CALIBAN Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my + valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie. + +STEPHANO Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by + this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. + +TRINCULO Why, I said nothing. + +STEPHANO Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. + +CALIBAN I say, by sorcery he got this isle; + From me he got it. if thy greatness will + Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest, + But this thing dare not,-- + +STEPHANO That's most certain. + +CALIBAN Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee. + +STEPHANO How now shall this be compassed? + Canst thou bring me to the party? + +CALIBAN Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep, + Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead. + +ARIEL Thou liest; thou canst not. + +CALIBAN What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch! + I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows + And take his bottle from him: when that's gone + He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him + Where the quick freshes are. + +STEPHANO Trinculo, run into no further danger: + interrupt the monster one word further, and, + by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors + and make a stock-fish of thee. + +TRINCULO Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther + off. + +STEPHANO Didst thou not say he lied? + +ARIEL Thou liest. + +STEPHANO Do I so? take thou that. + + [Beats TRINCULO] + + As you like this, give me the lie another time. + +TRINCULO I did not give the lie. Out o' your + wits and bearing too? A pox o' your bottle! + this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on + your monster, and the devil take your fingers! + +CALIBAN Ha, ha, ha! + +STEPHANO Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther + off. + +CALIBAN Beat him enough: after a little time + I'll beat him too. + +STEPHANO Stand farther. Come, proceed. + +CALIBAN Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him, + I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him, + Having first seized his books, or with a log + Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, + Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember + First to possess his books; for without them + He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not + One spirit to command: they all do hate him + As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. + He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them-- + Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal + And that most deeply to consider is + The beauty of his daughter; he himself + Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman, + But only Sycorax my dam and she; + But she as far surpasseth Sycorax + As great'st does least. + +STEPHANO Is it so brave a lass? + +CALIBAN Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant. + And bring thee forth brave brood. + +STEPHANO Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I + will be king and queen--save our graces!--and + Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou + like the plot, Trinculo? + +TRINCULO Excellent. + +STEPHANO Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but, + while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. + +CALIBAN Within this half hour will he be asleep: + Wilt thou destroy him then? + +STEPHANO Ay, on mine honour. + +ARIEL This will I tell my master. + +CALIBAN Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure: + Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch + You taught me but while-ere? + +STEPHANO At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any + reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing. + + [Sings] + + Flout 'em and scout 'em + And scout 'em and flout 'em + Thought is free. + +CALIBAN That's not the tune. + + [Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe] + +STEPHANO What is this same? + +TRINCULO This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture + of Nobody. + +STEPHANO If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: + if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list. + +TRINCULO O, forgive me my sins! + +STEPHANO He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us! + +CALIBAN Art thou afeard? + +STEPHANO No, monster, not I. + +CALIBAN Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, + Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. + Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments + Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices + That, if I then had waked after long sleep, + Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, + The clouds methought would open and show riches + Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, + I cried to dream again. + +STEPHANO This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall + have my music for nothing. + +CALIBAN When Prospero is destroyed. + +STEPHANO That shall be by and by: I remember the story. + +TRINCULO The sound is going away; let's follow it, and + after do our work. + +STEPHANO Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see + this tabourer; he lays it on. + +TRINCULO Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Another part of the island. + + + [Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, + ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others] + +GONZALO By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir; + My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed + Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, + I needs must rest me. + +ALONSO Old lord, I cannot blame thee, + Who am myself attach'd with weariness, + To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. + Even here I will put off my hope and keep it + No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd + Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks + Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. + +ANTONIO [Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's so + out of hope. + Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose + That you resolved to effect. + +SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage + Will we take throughly. + +ANTONIO [Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night; + For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they + Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance + As when they are fresh. + +SEBASTIAN [Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more. + + [Solemn and strange music] + +ALONSO What harmony is this? My good friends, hark! + +GONZALO Marvellous sweet music! + + [Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several + strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; + they dance about it with gentle actions of + salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to + eat, they depart] + +ALONSO Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these? + +SEBASTIAN A living drollery. Now I will believe + That there are unicorns, that in Arabia + There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix + At this hour reigning there. + +ANTONIO I'll believe both; + And what does else want credit, come to me, + And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did + lie, + Though fools at home condemn 'em. + +GONZALO If in Naples + I should report this now, would they believe me? + If I should say, I saw such islanders-- + For, certes, these are people of the island-- + Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note, + Their manners are more gentle-kind than of + Our human generation you shall find + Many, nay, almost any. + +PROSPERO [Aside] Honest lord, + Thou hast said well; for some of you there present + Are worse than devils. + +ALONSO I cannot too much muse + Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing, + Although they want the use of tongue, a kind + Of excellent dumb discourse. + +PROSPERO [Aside] Praise in departing. + +FRANCISCO They vanish'd strangely. + +SEBASTIAN No matter, since + They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. + Will't please you taste of what is here? + +ALONSO Not I. + +GONZALO Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys, + Who would believe that there were mountaineers + Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em + Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men + Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find + Each putter-out of five for one will bring us + Good warrant of. + +ALONSO I will stand to and feed, + Although my last: no matter, since I feel + The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke, + Stand to and do as we. + + [Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a + harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, + with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes] + +ARIEL You are three men of sin, whom Destiny, + That hath to instrument this lower world + And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea + Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island + Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men + Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad; + And even with such-like valour men hang and drown + Their proper selves. + + [ALONSO, SEBASTIAN &c. draw their swords] + + You fools! I and my fellows + Are ministers of Fate: the elements, + Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well + Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs + Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish + One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers + Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt, + Your swords are now too massy for your strengths + And will not be uplifted. But remember-- + For that's my business to you--that you three + From Milan did supplant good Prospero; + Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it, + Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed + The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have + Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures, + Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, + They have bereft; and do pronounce by me: + Lingering perdition, worse than any death + Can be at once, shall step by step attend + You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from-- + Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls + Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow + And a clear life ensuing. + + [He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music + enter the Shapes again, and dance, with + mocks and mows, and carrying out the table] + +PROSPERO Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou + Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: + Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated + In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life + And observation strange, my meaner ministers + Their several kinds have done. My high charms work + And these mine enemies are all knit up + In their distractions; they now are in my power; + And in these fits I leave them, while I visit + Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd, + And his and mine loved darling. + + [Exit above] + +GONZALO I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you + In this strange stare? + +ALONSO O, it is monstrous, monstrous: + Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; + The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, + That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced + The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. + Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and + I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded + And with him there lie mudded. + [Exit] + +SEBASTIAN But one fiend at a time, + I'll fight their legions o'er. + +ANTONIO I'll be thy second. + + [Exeunt SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO] + +GONZALO All three of them are desperate: their great guilt, + Like poison given to work a great time after, + Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you + That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly + And hinder them from what this ecstasy + May now provoke them to. + +ADRIAN Follow, I pray you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. + + + [Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA] + +PROSPERO If I have too austerely punish'd you, + Your compensation makes amends, for I + Have given you here a third of mine own life, + Or that for which I live; who once again + I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations + Were but my trials of thy love and thou + Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven, + I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, + Do not smile at me that I boast her off, + For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise + And make it halt behind her. + +FERDINAND I do believe it + Against an oracle. + +PROSPERO Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition + Worthily purchased take my daughter: but + If thou dost break her virgin-knot before + All sanctimonious ceremonies may + With full and holy rite be minister'd, + No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall + To make this contract grow: but barren hate, + Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew + The union of your bed with weeds so loathly + That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed, + As Hymen's lamps shall light you. + +FERDINAND As I hope + For quiet days, fair issue and long life, + With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, + The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion. + Our worser genius can, shall never melt + Mine honour into lust, to take away + The edge of that day's celebration + When I shall think: or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd, + Or Night kept chain'd below. + +PROSPERO Fairly spoke. + Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own. + What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! + + [Enter ARIEL] + +ARIEL What would my potent master? here I am. + +PROSPERO Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service + Did worthily perform; and I must use you + In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, + O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place: + Incite them to quick motion; for I must + Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple + Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise, + And they expect it from me. + +ARIEL Presently? + +PROSPERO Ay, with a twink. + +ARIEL Before you can say 'come' and 'go,' + And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,' + Each one, tripping on his toe, + Will be here with mop and mow. + Do you love me, master? no? + +PROSPERO Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach + Till thou dost hear me call. + +ARIEL Well, I conceive. + + [Exit] + +PROSPERO Look thou be true; do not give dalliance + Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw + To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious, + Or else, good night your vow! + +FERDINAND I warrant you sir; + The white cold virgin snow upon my heart + Abates the ardour of my liver. + +PROSPERO Well. + Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary, + Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly! + No tongue! all eyes! be silent. + + [Soft music] + + [Enter IRIS] + +IRIS Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas + Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease; + Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, + And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; + Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, + Which spongy April at thy hest betrims, + To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves, + Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, + Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard; + And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, + Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky, + Whose watery arch and messenger am I, + Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace, + Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, + To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain: + Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. + + [Enter CERES] + +CERES Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er + Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; + Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers + Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers, + And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown + My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down, + Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen + Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green? + +IRIS A contract of true love to celebrate; + And some donation freely to estate + On the blest lovers. + +CERES Tell me, heavenly bow, + If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, + Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot + The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, + Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company + I have forsworn. + +IRIS Of her society + Be not afraid: I met her deity + Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son + Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done + Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, + Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid + Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but vain; + Mars's hot minion is returned again; + Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, + Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows + And be a boy right out. + +CERES High'st queen of state, + Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. + + [Enter JUNO] + +JUNO How does my bounteous sister? Go with me + To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be + And honour'd in their issue. + + [They sing:] + +JUNO Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, + Long continuance, and increasing, + Hourly joys be still upon you! + Juno sings her blessings upon you. + +CERES Earth's increase, foison plenty, + Barns and garners never empty, + Vines and clustering bunches growing, + Plants with goodly burthen bowing; + Spring come to you at the farthest + In the very end of harvest! + Scarcity and want shall shun you; + Ceres' blessing so is on you. + +FERDINAND This is a most majestic vision, and + Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold + To think these spirits? + +PROSPERO Spirits, which by mine art + I have from their confines call'd to enact + My present fancies. + +FERDINAND Let me live here ever; + So rare a wonder'd father and a wife + Makes this place Paradise. + + [Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on + employment] + +PROSPERO Sweet, now, silence! + Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; + There's something else to do: hush, and be mute, + Or else our spell is marr'd. + +IRIS You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks, + With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, + Leave your crisp channels and on this green land + Answer your summons; Juno does command: + Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate + A contract of true love; be not too late. + + [Enter certain Nymphs] + + You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, + Come hither from the furrow and be merry: + Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on + And these fresh nymphs encounter every one + In country footing. + + [Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they + join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; + towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts + suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a + strange, hollow, and confused noise, they + heavily vanish] + +PROSPERO [Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy + Of the beast Caliban and his confederates + Against my life: the minute of their plot + Is almost come. + + [To the Spirits] + + Well done! avoid; no more! + +FERDINAND This is strange: your father's in some passion + That works him strongly. + +MIRANDA Never till this day + Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. + +PROSPERO You do look, my son, in a moved sort, + As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir. + Our revels now are ended. These our actors, + As I foretold you, were all spirits and + Are melted into air, into thin air: + And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, + The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, + The solemn temples, the great globe itself, + Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve + And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, + Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff + As dreams are made on, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; + Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: + Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: + If you be pleased, retire into my cell + And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk, + To still my beating mind. + + +FERDINAND | + | We wish your peace. +MIRANDA | + + + [Exeunt] + +PROSPERO Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come. + + [Enter ARIEL] + +ARIEL Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure? + +PROSPERO Spirit, + We must prepare to meet with Caliban. + +ARIEL Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres, + I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd + Lest I might anger thee. + +PROSPERO Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? + +ARIEL I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; + So fun of valour that they smote the air + For breathing in their faces; beat the ground + For kissing of their feet; yet always bending + Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour; + At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd + their ears, + Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses + As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears + That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through + Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, + Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them + I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, + There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake + O'erstunk their feet. + +PROSPERO This was well done, my bird. + Thy shape invisible retain thou still: + The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, + For stale to catch these thieves. + +ARIEL I go, I go. + + [Exit] + +PROSPERO A devil, a born devil, on whose nature + Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains, + Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; + And as with age his body uglier grows, + So his mind cankers. I will plague them all, + Even to roaring. + + [Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c] + + Come, hang them on this line. + + [PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter + CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet] + +CALIBAN Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not + Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. + +STEPHANO Monster, your fairy, which you say is + a harmless fairy, has done little better than + played the Jack with us. + +TRINCULO Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at + which my nose is in great indignation. + +STEPHANO So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take + a displeasure against you, look you,-- + +TRINCULO Thou wert but a lost monster. + +CALIBAN Good my lord, give me thy favour still. + Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to + Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly. + All's hush'd as midnight yet. + +TRINCULO Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,-- + +STEPHANO There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that, + monster, but an infinite loss. + +TRINCULO That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your + harmless fairy, monster. + +STEPHANO I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears + for my labour. + +CALIBAN Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here, + This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter. + Do that good mischief which may make this island + Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, + For aye thy foot-licker. + +STEPHANO Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts. + +TRINCULO O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look + what a wardrobe here is for thee! + +CALIBAN Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. + +TRINCULO O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. + O king Stephano! + +STEPHANO Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have + that gown. + +TRINCULO Thy grace shall have it. + +CALIBAN The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean + To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone + And do the murder first: if he awake, + From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches, + Make us strange stuff. + +STEPHANO Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, + is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under + the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your + hair and prove a bald jerkin. + +TRINCULO Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace. + +STEPHANO I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't: + wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this + country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent + pass of pate; there's another garment for't. + +TRINCULO Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and + away with the rest. + +CALIBAN I will have none on't: we shall lose our time, + And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes + With foreheads villanous low. + +STEPHANO Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this + away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you + out of my kingdom: go to, carry this. + +TRINCULO And this. + +STEPHANO Ay, and this. + + [A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, + in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, + PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on] + +PROSPERO Hey, Mountain, hey! + +ARIEL Silver I there it goes, Silver! + +PROSPERO Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark! + + [CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are + driven out] + + Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints + With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews + With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them + Than pard or cat o' mountain. + +ARIEL Hark, they roar! + +PROSPERO Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour + Lie at my mercy all mine enemies: + Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou + Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little + Follow, and do me service. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Before PROSPERO'S cell. + + + [Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL] + +PROSPERO Now does my project gather to a head: + My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time + Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day? + +ARIEL On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord, + You said our work should cease. + +PROSPERO I did say so, + When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, + How fares the king and's followers? + +ARIEL Confined together + In the same fashion as you gave in charge, + Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, + In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; + They cannot budge till your release. The king, + His brother and yours, abide all three distracted + And the remainder mourning over them, + Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly + Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;' + His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops + From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em + That if you now beheld them, your affections + Would become tender. + +PROSPERO Dost thou think so, spirit? + +ARIEL Mine would, sir, were I human. + +PROSPERO And mine shall. + Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling + Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, + One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, + Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? + Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, + Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury + Do I take part: the rarer action is + In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, + The sole drift of my purpose doth extend + Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: + My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, + And they shall be themselves. + +ARIEL I'll fetch them, sir. + + [Exit] + +PROSPERO Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, + And ye that on the sands with printless foot + Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him + When he comes back; you demi-puppets that + By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, + Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime + Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice + To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, + Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd + The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, + And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault + Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder + Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak + With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory + Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up + The pine and cedar: graves at my command + Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth + By my so potent art. But this rough magic + I here abjure, and, when I have required + Some heavenly music, which even now I do, + To work mine end upon their senses that + This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, + Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, + And deeper than did ever plummet sound + I'll drown my book. + + [Solemn music] + + [Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a + frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; + SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, + attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO they all + enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, + and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO + observing, speaks:] + + A solemn air and the best comforter + To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains, + Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand, + For you are spell-stopp'd. + Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, + Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine, + Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace, + And as the morning steals upon the night, + Melting the darkness, so their rising senses + Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle + Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo, + My true preserver, and a loyal sir + To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces + Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly + Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: + Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. + Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood, + You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, + Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian, + Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong, + Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee, + Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding + Begins to swell, and the approaching tide + Will shortly fill the reasonable shore + That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them + That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel, + Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell: + I will discase me, and myself present + As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit; + Thou shalt ere long be free. + + [ARIEL sings and helps to attire him] + + Where the bee sucks. there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer merrily. + Merrily, merrily shall I live now + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. + +PROSPERO Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee: + But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. + To the king's ship, invisible as thou art: + There shalt thou find the mariners asleep + Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain + Being awake, enforce them to this place, + And presently, I prithee. + +ARIEL I drink the air before me, and return + Or ere your pulse twice beat. + + [Exit] + +GONZALO All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement + Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us + Out of this fearful country! + +PROSPERO Behold, sir king, + The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero: + For more assurance that a living prince + Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body; + And to thee and thy company I bid + A hearty welcome. + +ALONSO Whether thou best he or no, + Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me, + As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse + Beats as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee, + The affliction of my mind amends, with which, + I fear, a madness held me: this must crave, + An if this be at all, a most strange story. + Thy dukedom I resign and do entreat + Thou pardon me my wrongs. But how should Prospero + Be living and be here? + +PROSPERO First, noble friend, + Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot + Be measured or confined. + +GONZALO Whether this be + Or be not, I'll not swear. + +PROSPERO You do yet taste + Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you + Believe things certain. Welcome, my friends all! + + [Aside to SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] + + But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, + I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you + And justify you traitors: at this time + I will tell no tales. + +SEBASTIAN [Aside] The devil speaks in him. + +PROSPERO No. + For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother + Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive + Thy rankest fault; all of them; and require + My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know, + Thou must restore. + +ALONSO If thou be'st Prospero, + Give us particulars of thy preservation; + How thou hast met us here, who three hours since + Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have lost-- + How sharp the point of this remembrance is!-- + My dear son Ferdinand. + +PROSPERO I am woe for't, sir. + +ALONSO Irreparable is the loss, and patience + Says it is past her cure. + +PROSPERO I rather think + You have not sought her help, of whose soft grace + For the like loss I have her sovereign aid + And rest myself content. + +ALONSO You the like loss! + +PROSPERO As great to me as late; and, supportable + To make the dear loss, have I means much weaker + Than you may call to comfort you, for I + Have lost my daughter. + +ALONSO A daughter? + O heavens, that they were living both in Naples, + The king and queen there! that they were, I wish + Myself were mudded in that oozy bed + Where my son lies. When did you lose your daughter? + +PROSPERO In this last tempest. I perceive these lords + At this encounter do so much admire + That they devour their reason and scarce think + Their eyes do offices of truth, their words + Are natural breath: but, howsoe'er you have + Been justled from your senses, know for certain + That I am Prospero and that very duke + Which was thrust forth of Milan, who most strangely + Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, was landed, + To be the lord on't. No more yet of this; + For 'tis a chronicle of day by day, + Not a relation for a breakfast nor + Befitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; + This cell's my court: here have I few attendants + And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. + My dukedom since you have given me again, + I will requite you with as good a thing; + At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye + As much as me my dukedom. + + [Here PROSPERO discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA + playing at chess] + +MIRANDA Sweet lord, you play me false. + +FERDINAND No, my dear'st love, + I would not for the world. + +MIRANDA Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle, + And I would call it, fair play. + +ALONSO If this prove + A vision of the Island, one dear son + Shall I twice lose. + +SEBASTIAN A most high miracle! + +FERDINAND Though the seas threaten, they are merciful; + I have cursed them without cause. + + [Kneels] + +ALONSO Now all the blessings + Of a glad father compass thee about! + Arise, and say how thou camest here. + +MIRANDA O, wonder! + How many goodly creatures are there here! + How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, + That has such people in't! + +PROSPERO 'Tis new to thee. + +ALONSO What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? + Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: + Is she the goddess that hath sever'd us, + And brought us thus together? + +FERDINAND Sir, she is mortal; + But by immortal Providence she's mine: + I chose her when I could not ask my father + For his advice, nor thought I had one. She + Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, + Of whom so often I have heard renown, + But never saw before; of whom I have + Received a second life; and second father + This lady makes him to me. + +ALONSO I am hers: + But, O, how oddly will it sound that I + Must ask my child forgiveness! + +PROSPERO There, sir, stop: + Let us not burthen our remembrance with + A heaviness that's gone. + +GONZALO I have inly wept, + Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you god, + And on this couple drop a blessed crown! + For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way + Which brought us hither. + +ALONSO I say, Amen, Gonzalo! + +GONZALO Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue + Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice + Beyond a common joy, and set it down + With gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage + Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, + And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife + Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedom + In a poor isle and all of us ourselves + When no man was his own. + +ALONSO [To FERDINAND and MIRANDA] Give me your hands: + Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart + That doth not wish you joy! + +GONZALO Be it so! Amen! + + [Re-enter ARIEL, with the Master and Boatswain + amazedly following] + + O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: + I prophesied, if a gallows were on land, + This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy, + That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on shore? + Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? + +Boatswain The best news is, that we have safely found + Our king and company; the next, our ship-- + Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split-- + Is tight and yare and bravely rigg'd as when + We first put out to sea. + +ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Sir, all this service + Have I done since I went. + +PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] My tricksy spirit! + +ALONSO These are not natural events; they strengthen + From strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? + +Boatswain If I did think, sir, I were well awake, + I'ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, + And--how we know not--all clapp'd under hatches; + Where but even now with strange and several noises + Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains, + And more diversity of sounds, all horrible, + We were awaked; straightway, at liberty; + Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld + Our royal, good and gallant ship, our master + Capering to eye her: on a trice, so please you, + Even in a dream, were we divided from them + And were brought moping hither. + +ARIEL [Aside to PROSPERO] Was't well done? + +PROSPERO [Aside to ARIEL] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. + +ALONSO This is as strange a maze as e'er men trod + And there is in this business more than nature + Was ever conduct of: some oracle + Must rectify our knowledge. + +PROSPERO Sir, my liege, + Do not infest your mind with beating on + The strangeness of this business; at pick'd leisure + Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you, + Which to you shall seem probable, of every + These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheerful + And think of each thing well. + + [Aside to ARIEL] + + Come hither, spirit: + Set Caliban and his companions free; + Untie the spell. + + [Exit ARIEL] + + How fares my gracious sir? + There are yet missing of your company + Some few odd lads that you remember not. + + [Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO + and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel] + +STEPHANO Every man shift for all the rest, and + let no man take care for himself; for all is + but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio! + +TRINCULO If these be true spies which I wear in my head, + here's a goodly sight. + +CALIBAN O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! + How fine my master is! I am afraid + He will chastise me. + +SEBASTIAN Ha, ha! + What things are these, my lord Antonio? + Will money buy 'em? + +ANTONIO Very like; one of them + Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. + +PROSPERO Mark but the badges of these men, my lords, + Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave, + His mother was a witch, and one so strong + That could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, + And deal in her command without her power. + These three have robb'd me; and this demi-devil-- + For he's a bastard one--had plotted with them + To take my life. Two of these fellows you + Must know and own; this thing of darkness! + Acknowledge mine. + +CALIBAN I shall be pinch'd to death. + +ALONSO Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? + +SEBASTIAN He is drunk now: where had he wine? + +ALONSO And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they + Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em? + How camest thou in this pickle? + +TRINCULO I have been in such a pickle since I + saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of + my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. + +SEBASTIAN Why, how now, Stephano! + +STEPHANO O, touch me not; I am not Stephano, but a cramp. + +PROSPERO You'ld be king o' the isle, sirrah? + +STEPHANO I should have been a sore one then. + +ALONSO This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd on. + + [Pointing to Caliban] + +PROSPERO He is as disproportion'd in his manners + As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell; + Take with you your companions; as you look + To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. + +CALIBAN Ay, that I will; and I'll be wise hereafter + And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass + Was I, to take this drunkard for a god + And worship this dull fool! + +PROSPERO Go to; away! + +ALONSO Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. + +SEBASTIAN Or stole it, rather. + + [Exeunt CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO] + +PROSPERO Sir, I invite your highness and your train + To my poor cell, where you shall take your rest + For this one night; which, part of it, I'll waste + With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it + Go quick away; the story of my life + And the particular accidents gone by + Since I came to this isle: and in the morn + I'll bring you to your ship and so to Naples, + Where I have hope to see the nuptial + Of these our dear-beloved solemnized; + And thence retire me to my Milan, where + Every third thought shall be my grave. + +ALONSO I long + To hear the story of your life, which must + Take the ear strangely. + +PROSPERO I'll deliver all; + And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales + And sail so expeditious that shall catch + Your royal fleet far off. + + [Aside to ARIEL] + + My Ariel, chick, + That is thy charge: then to the elements + Be free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TEMPEST + + EPILOGUE + + + SPOKEN BY PROSPERO + + Now my charms are all o'erthrown, + And what strength I have's mine own, + Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, + I must be here confined by you, + Or sent to Naples. Let me not, + Since I have my dukedom got + And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell + In this bare island by your spell; + But release me from my bands + With the help of your good hands: + Gentle breath of yours my sails + Must fill, or else my project fails, + Which was to please. Now I want + Spirits to enforce, art to enchant, + And my ending is despair, + Unless I be relieved by prayer, + Which pierces so that it assaults + Mercy itself and frees all faults. + As you from crimes would pardon'd be, + Let your indulgence set me free. + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +PRIAM king of Troy. + + +HECTOR | + | +TROILUS | + | +PARIS | his sons. + | +DEIPHOBUS | + | +HELENUS | + + +MARGARELON a bastard son of Priam. + + +AENEAS | + | Trojan commanders. +ANTENOR | + + +CALCHAS a Trojan priest, taking part with the Greeks. + +PANDARUS uncle to Cressida. + +AGAMEMNON the Grecian general. + +MENELAUS his brother. + + +ACHILLES | + | +AJAX | + | +ULYSSES | + | Grecian princes. +NESTOR | + | +DIOMEDES | + | +PATROCLUS | + + +THERSITES a deformed and scurrilous Grecian. + +ALEXANDER servant to Cressida. + + Servant to Troilus. (Boy:) + + Servant to Paris. + + Servant to Diomedes. (Servant:) + +HELEN wife to Menelaus. + +ANDROMACHE wife to Hector. + +CASSANDRA daughter to Priam, a prophetess. + +CRESSIDA daughter to Calchas. + + Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. + + +SCENE Troy, and the Grecian camp before it. + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + PROLOGUE + + + In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece + The princes orgulous, their high blood chafed, + Have to the port of Athens sent their ships, + Fraught with the ministers and instruments + Of cruel war: sixty and nine, that wore + Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay + Put forth toward Phrygia; and their vow is made + To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures + The ravish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen, + With wanton Paris sleeps; and that's the quarrel. + To Tenedos they come; + And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge + Their warlike fraughtage: now on Dardan plains + The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch + Their brave pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, + Dardan, and Tymbria, Helias, Chetas, Troien, + And Antenorides, with massy staples + And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, + Sperr up the sons of Troy. + Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits, + On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, + Sets all on hazard: and hither am I come + A prologue arm'd, but not in confidence + Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited + In like conditions as our argument, + To tell you, fair beholders, that our play + Leaps o'er the vaunt and firstlings of those broils, + Beginning in the middle, starting thence away + To what may be digested in a play. + Like or find fault; do as your pleasures are: + Now good or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Troy. Before Priam's palace. + + + [Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARUS] + +TROILUS Call here my varlet; I'll unarm again: + Why should I war without the walls of Troy, + That find such cruel battle here within? + Each Trojan that is master of his heart, + Let him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. + +PANDARUS Will this gear ne'er be mended? + +TROILUS The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength, + Fierce to their skill and to their fierceness valiant; + But I am weaker than a woman's tear, + Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance, + Less valiant than the virgin in the night + And skilless as unpractised infancy. + +PANDARUS Well, I have told you enough of this: for my part, + I'll not meddle nor make no further. He that will + have a cake out of the wheat must needs tarry the grinding. + +TROILUS Have I not tarried? + +PANDARUS Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry + the bolting. + +TROILUS Have I not tarried? + +PANDARUS Ay, the bolting, but you must tarry the leavening. + +TROILUS Still have I tarried. + +PANDARUS Ay, to the leavening; but here's yet in the word + 'hereafter' the kneading, the making of the cake, the + heating of the oven and the baking; nay, you must + stay the cooling too, or you may chance to burn your lips. + +TROILUS Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be, + Doth lesser blench at sufferance than I do. + At Priam's royal table do I sit; + And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts,-- + So, traitor! 'When she comes!' When is she thence? + +PANDARUS Well, she looked yesternight fairer than ever I saw + her look, or any woman else. + +TROILUS I was about to tell thee:--when my heart, + As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain, + Lest Hector or my father should perceive me, + I have, as when the sun doth light a storm, + Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: + But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness, + Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. + +PANDARUS An her hair were not somewhat darker than Helen's-- + well, go to--there were no more comparison between + the women: but, for my part, she is my kinswoman; I + would not, as they term it, praise her: but I would + somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I + will not dispraise your sister Cassandra's wit, but-- + +TROILUS O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus,-- + When I do tell thee, there my hopes lie drown'd, + Reply not in how many fathoms deep + They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad + In Cressid's love: thou answer'st 'she is fair;' + Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart + Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, + Handlest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, + In whose comparison all whites are ink, + Writing their own reproach, to whose soft seizure + The cygnet's down is harsh and spirit of sense + Hard as the palm of ploughman: this thou tell'st me, + As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her; + But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, + Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me + The knife that made it. + +PANDARUS I speak no more than truth. + +TROILUS Thou dost not speak so much. + +PANDARUS Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as she is: + if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she be + not, she has the mends in her own hands. + +TROILUS Good Pandarus, how now, Pandarus! + +PANDARUS I have had my labour for my travail; ill-thought on of + her and ill-thought on of you; gone between and + between, but small thanks for my labour. + +TROILUS What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, with me? + +PANDARUS Because she's kin to me, therefore she's not so fair + as Helen: an she were not kin to me, she would be as + fair on Friday as Helen is on Sunday. But what care + I? I care not an she were a black-a-moor; 'tis all one to me. + +TROILUS Say I she is not fair? + +PANDARUS I do not care whether you do or no. She's a fool to + stay behind her father; let her to the Greeks; and so + I'll tell her the next time I see her: for my part, + I'll meddle nor make no more i' the matter. + +TROILUS Pandarus,-- + +PANDARUS Not I. + +TROILUS Sweet Pandarus,-- + +PANDARUS Pray you, speak no more to me: I will leave all as I + found it, and there an end. + + [Exit PANDARUS. An alarum] + +TROILUS Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, rude sounds! + Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be fair, + When with your blood you daily paint her thus. + I cannot fight upon this argument; + It is too starved a subject for my sword. + But Pandarus,--O gods, how do you plague me! + I cannot come to Cressid but by Pandar; + And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo. + As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. + Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love, + What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? + Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl: + Between our Ilium and where she resides, + Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood, + Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar + Our doubtful hope, our convoy and our bark. + + [Alarum. Enter AENEAS] + +AENEAS How now, Prince Troilus! wherefore not afield? + +TROILUS Because not there: this woman's answer sorts, + For womanish it is to be from thence. + What news, AEneas, from the field to-day? + +AENEAS That Paris is returned home and hurt. + +TROILUS By whom, AEneas? + +AENEAS Troilus, by Menelaus. + +TROILUS Let Paris bleed; 'tis but a scar to scorn; + Paris is gored with Menelaus' horn. + + [Alarum] + +AENEAS Hark, what good sport is out of town to-day! + +TROILUS Better at home, if 'would I might' were 'may.' + But to the sport abroad: are you bound thither? + +AENEAS In all swift haste. + +TROILUS Come, go we then together. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The Same. A street. + + + [Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER] + +CRESSIDA Who were those went by? + +ALEXANDER Queen Hecuba and Helen. + +CRESSIDA And whither go they? + +ALEXANDER Up to the eastern tower, + Whose height commands as subject all the vale, + To see the battle. Hector, whose patience + Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moved: + He chid Andromache and struck his armourer, + And, like as there were husbandry in war, + Before the sun rose he was harness'd light, + And to the field goes he; where every flower + Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw + In Hector's wrath. + +CRESSIDA What was his cause of anger? + +ALEXANDER The noise goes, this: there is among the Greeks + A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; + They call him Ajax. + +CRESSIDA Good; and what of him? + +ALEXANDER They say he is a very man per se, + And stands alone. + +CRESSIDA So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick, or have no legs. + +ALEXANDER This man, lady, hath robbed many beasts of their + particular additions; he is as valiant as the lion, + churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant: a man + into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his + valour is crushed into folly, his folly sauced with + discretion: there is no man hath a virtue that he + hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an attaint but he + carries some stain of it: he is melancholy without + cause, and merry against the hair: he hath the + joints of every thing, but everything so out of joint + that he is a gouty Briareus, many hands and no use, + or purblind Argus, all eyes and no sight. + +CRESSIDA But how should this man, that makes + me smile, make Hector angry? + +ALEXANDER They say he yesterday coped Hector in the battle and + struck him down, the disdain and shame whereof hath + ever since kept Hector fasting and waking. + +CRESSIDA Who comes here? + +ALEXANDER Madam, your uncle Pandarus. + + [Enter PANDARUS] + +CRESSIDA Hector's a gallant man. + +ALEXANDER As may be in the world, lady. + +PANDARUS What's that? what's that? + +CRESSIDA Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. + +PANDARUS Good morrow, cousin Cressid: what do you talk of? + Good morrow, Alexander. How do you, cousin? When + were you at Ilium? + +CRESSIDA This morning, uncle. + +PANDARUS What were you talking of when I came? Was Hector + armed and gone ere ye came to Ilium? Helen was not + up, was she? + +CRESSIDA Hector was gone, but Helen was not up. + +PANDARUS Even so: Hector was stirring early. + +CRESSIDA That were we talking of, and of his anger. + +PANDARUS Was he angry? + +CRESSIDA So he says here. + +PANDARUS True, he was so: I know the cause too: he'll lay + about him to-day, I can tell them that: and there's + Troilus will not come far behind him: let them take + heed of Troilus, I can tell them that too. + +CRESSIDA What, is he angry too? + +PANDARUS Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man of the two. + +CRESSIDA O Jupiter! there's no comparison. + +PANDARUS What, not between Troilus and Hector? Do you know a + man if you see him? + +CRESSIDA Ay, if I ever saw him before and knew him. + +PANDARUS Well, I say Troilus is Troilus. + +CRESSIDA Then you say as I say; for, I am sure, he is not Hector. + +PANDARUS No, nor Hector is not Troilus in some degrees. + +CRESSIDA 'Tis just to each of them; he is himself. + +PANDARUS Himself! Alas, poor Troilus! I would he were. + +CRESSIDA So he is. + +PANDARUS Condition, I had gone barefoot to India. + +CRESSIDA He is not Hector. + +PANDARUS Himself! no, he's not himself: would a' were + himself! Well, the gods are above; time must friend + or end: well, Troilus, well: I would my heart were + in her body. No, Hector is not a better man than Troilus. + +CRESSIDA Excuse me. + +PANDARUS He is elder. + +CRESSIDA Pardon me, pardon me. + +PANDARUS Th' other's not come to't; you shall tell me another + tale, when th' other's come to't. Hector shall not + have his wit this year. + +CRESSIDA He shall not need it, if he have his own. + +PANDARUS Nor his qualities. + +CRESSIDA No matter. + +PANDARUS Nor his beauty. + +CRESSIDA 'Twould not become him; his own's better. + +PANDARUS You have no judgment, niece: Helen + herself swore th' other day, that Troilus, for + a brown favour--for so 'tis, I must confess,-- + not brown neither,-- + +CRESSIDA No, but brown. + +PANDARUS 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown. + +CRESSIDA To say the truth, true and not true. + +PANDARUS She praised his complexion above Paris. + +CRESSIDA Why, Paris hath colour enough. + +PANDARUS So he has. + +CRESSIDA Then Troilus should have too much: if she praised + him above, his complexion is higher than his; he + having colour enough, and the other higher, is too + flaming a praise for a good complexion. I had as + lief Helen's golden tongue had commended Troilus for + a copper nose. + +PANDARUS I swear to you. I think Helen loves him better than Paris. + +CRESSIDA Then she's a merry Greek indeed. + +PANDARUS Nay, I am sure she does. She came to him th' other + day into the compassed window,--and, you know, he + has not past three or four hairs on his chin,-- + +CRESSIDA Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon bring his + particulars therein to a total. + +PANDARUS Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within + three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector. + +CRESSIDA Is he so young a man and so old a lifter? + +PANDARUS But to prove to you that Helen loves him: she came + and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin-- + +CRESSIDA Juno have mercy! how came it cloven? + +PANDARUS Why, you know 'tis dimpled: I think his smiling + becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. + +CRESSIDA O, he smiles valiantly. + +PANDARUS Does he not? + +CRESSIDA O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. + +PANDARUS Why, go to, then: but to prove to you that Helen + loves Troilus,-- + +CRESSIDA Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll + prove it so. + +PANDARUS Troilus! why, he esteems her no more than I esteem + an addle egg. + +CRESSIDA If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle + head, you would eat chickens i' the shell. + +PANDARUS I cannot choose but laugh, to think how she tickled + his chin: indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I + must needs confess,-- + +CRESSIDA Without the rack. + +PANDARUS And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on his chin. + +CRESSIDA Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. + +PANDARUS But there was such laughing! Queen Hecuba laughed + that her eyes ran o'er. + +CRESSIDA With mill-stones. + +PANDARUS And Cassandra laughed. + +CRESSIDA But there was more temperate fire under the pot of + her eyes: did her eyes run o'er too? + +PANDARUS And Hector laughed. + +CRESSIDA At what was all this laughing? + +PANDARUS Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied on Troilus' chin. + +CRESSIDA An't had been a green hair, I should have laughed + too. + +PANDARUS They laughed not so much at the hair as at his pretty answer. + +CRESSIDA What was his answer? + +PANDARUS Quoth she, 'Here's but two and fifty hairs on your + chin, and one of them is white. + +CRESSIDA This is her question. + +PANDARUS That's true; make no question of that. 'Two and + fifty hairs' quoth he, 'and one white: that white + hair is my father, and all the rest are his sons.' + 'Jupiter!' quoth she, 'which of these hairs is Paris, + my husband? 'The forked one,' quoth he, 'pluck't + out, and give it him.' But there was such laughing! + and Helen so blushed, an Paris so chafed, and all the + rest so laughed, that it passed. + +CRESSIDA So let it now; for it has been while going by. + +PANDARUS Well, cousin. I told you a thing yesterday; think on't. + +CRESSIDA So I do. + +PANDARUS I'll be sworn 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere + a man born in April. + +CRESSIDA And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle + against May. + + [A retreat sounded] + +PANDARUS Hark! they are coming from the field: shall we + stand up here, and see them as they pass toward + Ilium? good niece, do, sweet niece Cressida. + +CRESSIDA At your pleasure. + +PANDARUS Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may + see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their + names as they pass by; but mark Troilus above the rest. + +CRESSIDA Speak not so loud. + + [AENEAS passes] + +PANDARUS That's AEneas: is not that a brave man? he's one of + the flowers of Troy, I can tell you: but mark + Troilus; you shall see anon. + + [ANTENOR passes] + +CRESSIDA Who's that? + +PANDARUS That's Antenor: he has a shrewd wit, I can tell you; + and he's a man good enough, he's one o' the soundest + judgments in whosoever, and a proper man of person. + When comes Troilus? I'll show you Troilus anon: if + he see me, you shall see him nod at me. + +CRESSIDA Will he give you the nod? + +PANDARUS You shall see. + +CRESSIDA If he do, the rich shall have more. + + [HECTOR passes] + +PANDARUS That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; there's a + fellow! Go thy way, Hector! There's a brave man, + niece. O brave Hector! Look how he looks! there's + a countenance! is't not a brave man? + +CRESSIDA O, a brave man! + +PANDARUS Is a' not? it does a man's heart good. Look you + what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do + you see? look you there: there's no jesting; + there's laying on, take't off who will, as they say: + there be hacks! + +CRESSIDA Be those with swords? + +PANDARUS Swords! any thing, he cares not; an the devil come + to him, it's all one: by God's lid, it does one's + heart good. Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris. + + [PARIS passes] + + Look ye yonder, niece; is't not a gallant man too, + is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who said he came + hurt home to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do + Helen's heart good now, ha! Would I could see + Troilus now! You shall see Troilus anon. + + [HELENUS passes] + +CRESSIDA Who's that? + +PANDARUS That's Helenus. I marvel where Troilus is. That's + Helenus. I think he went not forth to-day. That's Helenus. + +CRESSIDA Can Helenus fight, uncle? + +PANDARUS Helenus? no. Yes, he'll fight indifferent well. I + marvel where Troilus is. Hark! do you not hear the + people cry 'Troilus'? Helenus is a priest. + +CRESSIDA What sneaking fellow comes yonder? + + [TROILUS passes] + +PANDARUS Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus. 'Tis Troilus! + there's a man, niece! Hem! Brave Troilus! the + prince of chivalry! + +CRESSIDA Peace, for shame, peace! + +PANDARUS Mark him; note him. O brave Troilus! Look well upon + him, niece: look you how his sword is bloodied, and + his helm more hacked than Hector's, and how he looks, + and how he goes! O admirable youth! he ne'er saw + three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way! + Had I a sister were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, + he should take his choice. O admirable man! Paris? + Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to + change, would give an eye to boot. + +CRESSIDA Here come more. + + [Forces pass] + +PANDARUS Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! + porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the + eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look: the eagles + are gone: crows and daws, crows and daws! I had + rather be such a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and + all Greece. + +CRESSIDA There is among the Greeks Achilles, a better man than Troilus. + +PANDARUS Achilles! a drayman, a porter, a very camel. + +CRESSIDA Well, well. + +PANDARUS 'Well, well!' why, have you any discretion? have + you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not + birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, manhood, + learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, + and such like, the spice and salt that season a man? + +CRESSIDA Ay, a minced man: and then to be baked with no date + in the pie, for then the man's date's out. + +PANDARUS You are such a woman! one knows not at what ward you + lie. + +CRESSIDA Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to + defend my wiles; upon my secrecy, to defend mine + honesty; my mask, to defend my beauty; and you, to + defend all these: and at all these wards I lie, at a + thousand watches. + +PANDARUS Say one of your watches. + +CRESSIDA Nay, I'll watch you for that; and that's one of the + chiefest of them too: if I cannot ward what I would + not have hit, I can watch you for telling how I took + the blow; unless it swell past hiding, and then it's + past watching. + +PANDARUS You are such another! + + [Enter Troilus's Boy] + +Boy Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you. + +PANDARUS Where? + +Boy At your own house; there he unarms him. + +PANDARUS Good boy, tell him I come. + + [Exit boy] + + I doubt he be hurt. Fare ye well, good niece. + +CRESSIDA Adieu, uncle. + +PANDARUS I'll be with you, niece, by and by. + +CRESSIDA To bring, uncle? + +PANDARUS Ay, a token from Troilus. + +CRESSIDA By the same token, you are a bawd. + + [Exit PANDARUS] + + Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, + He offers in another's enterprise; + But more in Troilus thousand fold I see + Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be; + Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing: + Things won are done; joy's soul lies in the doing. + That she beloved knows nought that knows not this: + Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is: + That she was never yet that ever knew + Love got so sweet as when desire did sue. + Therefore this maxim out of love I teach: + Achievement is command; ungain'd, beseech: + Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear, + Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Agamemnon's tent. + + + [Sennet. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR, ULYSSES, + MENELAUS, and others] + +AGAMEMNON Princes, + What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks? + The ample proposition that hope makes + In all designs begun on earth below + Fails in the promised largeness: cheques and disasters + Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd, + As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, + Infect the sound pine and divert his grain + Tortive and errant from his course of growth. + Nor, princes, is it matter new to us + That we come short of our suppose so far + That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand; + Sith every action that hath gone before, + Whereof we have record, trial did draw + Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, + And that unbodied figure of the thought + That gave't surmised shape. Why then, you princes, + Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works, + And call them shames? which are indeed nought else + But the protractive trials of great Jove + To find persistive constancy in men: + The fineness of which metal is not found + In fortune's love; for then the bold and coward, + The wise and fool, the artist and unread, + The hard and soft seem all affined and kin: + But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, + Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, + Puffing at all, winnows the light away; + And what hath mass or matter, by itself + Lies rich in virtue and unmingled. + +NESTOR With due observance of thy godlike seat, + Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply + Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance + Lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth, + How many shallow bauble boats dare sail + Upon her patient breast, making their way + With those of nobler bulk! + But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage + The gentle Thetis, and anon behold + The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, + Bounding between the two moist elements, + Like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat + Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now + Co-rivall'd greatness? Either to harbour fled, + Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so + Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide + In storms of fortune; for in her ray and brightness + The herd hath more annoyance by the breeze + Than by the tiger; but when the splitting wind + Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, + And flies fled under shade, why, then the thing of courage + As roused with rage with rage doth sympathize, + And with an accent tuned in selfsame key + Retorts to chiding fortune. + +ULYSSES Agamemnon, + Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece, + Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. + In whom the tempers and the minds of all + Should be shut up, hear what Ulysses speaks. + Besides the applause and approbation To which, + + [To AGAMEMNON] + + most mighty for thy place and sway, + + [To NESTOR] + + And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out life + I give to both your speeches, which were such + As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece + Should hold up high in brass, and such again + As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver, + Should with a bond of air, strong as the axle-tree + On which heaven rides, knit all the Greekish ears + To his experienced tongue, yet let it please both, + Thou great, and wise, to hear Ulysses speak. + +AGAMEMNON Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less expect + That matter needless, of importless burden, + Divide thy lips, than we are confident, + When rank Thersites opes his mastic jaws, + We shall hear music, wit and oracle. + +ULYSSES Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, + And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, + But for these instances. + The specialty of rule hath been neglected: + And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand + Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. + When that the general is not like the hive + To whom the foragers shall all repair, + What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded, + The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. + The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre + Observe degree, priority and place, + Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, + Office and custom, in all line of order; + And therefore is the glorious planet Sol + In noble eminence enthroned and sphered + Amidst the other; whose medicinable eye + Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, + And posts, like the commandment of a king, + Sans cheque to good and bad: but when the planets + In evil mixture to disorder wander, + What plagues and what portents! what mutiny! + What raging of the sea! shaking of earth! + Commotion in the winds! frights, changes, horrors, + Divert and crack, rend and deracinate + The unity and married calm of states + Quite from their fixure! O, when degree is shaked, + Which is the ladder to all high designs, + Then enterprise is sick! How could communities, + Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities, + Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, + The primogenitive and due of birth, + Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, + But by degree, stand in authentic place? + Take but degree away, untune that string, + And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets + In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters + Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores + And make a sop of all this solid globe: + Strength should be lord of imbecility, + And the rude son should strike his father dead: + Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong, + Between whose endless jar justice resides, + Should lose their names, and so should justice too. + Then every thing includes itself in power, + Power into will, will into appetite; + And appetite, an universal wolf, + So doubly seconded with will and power, + Must make perforce an universal prey, + And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, + This chaos, when degree is suffocate, + Follows the choking. + And this neglection of degree it is + That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose + It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd + By him one step below, he by the next, + That next by him beneath; so every step, + Exampled by the first pace that is sick + Of his superior, grows to an envious fever + Of pale and bloodless emulation: + And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot, + Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, + Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strength. + +NESTOR Most wisely hath Ulysses here discover'd + The fever whereof all our power is sick. + +AGAMEMNON The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, + What is the remedy? + +ULYSSES The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns + The sinew and the forehand of our host, + Having his ear full of his airy fame, + Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent + Lies mocking our designs: with him Patroclus + Upon a lazy bed the livelong day + Breaks scurril jests; + And with ridiculous and awkward action, + Which, slanderer, he imitation calls, + He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, + Thy topless deputation he puts on, + And, like a strutting player, whose conceit + Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich + To hear the wooden dialogue and sound + 'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage,-- + Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming + He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks, + 'Tis like a chime a-mending; with terms unsquared, + Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd + Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff + The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, + From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; + Cries 'Excellent! 'tis Agamemnon just. + Now play me Nestor; hem, and stroke thy beard, + As he being drest to some oration.' + That's done, as near as the extremest ends + Of parallels, as like as Vulcan and his wife: + Yet god Achilles still cries 'Excellent! + 'Tis Nestor right. Now play him me, Patroclus, + Arming to answer in a night alarm.' + And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age + Must be the scene of mirth; to cough and spit, + And, with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, + Shake in and out the rivet: and at this sport + Sir Valour dies; cries 'O, enough, Patroclus; + Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all + In pleasure of my spleen.' And in this fashion, + All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, + Severals and generals of grace exact, + Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, + Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, + Success or loss, what is or is not, serves + As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. + +NESTOR And in the imitation of these twain-- + Who, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns + With an imperial voice--many are infect. + Ajax is grown self-will'd, and bears his head + In such a rein, in full as proud a place + As broad Achilles; keeps his tent like him; + Makes factious feasts; rails on our state of war, + Bold as an oracle, and sets Thersites, + A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint, + To match us in comparisons with dirt, + To weaken and discredit our exposure, + How rank soever rounded in with danger. + +ULYSSES They tax our policy, and call it cowardice, + Count wisdom as no member of the war, + Forestall prescience, and esteem no act + But that of hand: the still and mental parts, + That do contrive how many hands shall strike, + When fitness calls them on, and know by measure + Of their observant toil the enemies' weight,-- + Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: + They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war; + So that the ram that batters down the wall, + For the great swing and rudeness of his poise, + They place before his hand that made the engine, + Or those that with the fineness of their souls + By reason guide his execution. + +NESTOR Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse + Makes many Thetis' sons. + + [A tucket] + +AGAMEMNON What trumpet? look, Menelaus. + +MENELAUS From Troy. + + [Enter AENEAS] + +AGAMEMNON What would you 'fore our tent? + +AENEAS Is this great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you? + +AGAMEMNON Even this. + +AENEAS May one, that is a herald and a prince, + Do a fair message to his kingly ears? + +AGAMEMNON With surety stronger than Achilles' arm + 'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice + Call Agamemnon head and general. + +AENEAS Fair leave and large security. How may + A stranger to those most imperial looks + Know them from eyes of other mortals? + +AGAMEMNON How! + +AENEAS Ay; + I ask, that I might waken reverence, + And bid the cheek be ready with a blush + Modest as morning when she coldly eyes + The youthful Phoebus: + Which is that god in office, guiding men? + Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? + +AGAMEMNON This Trojan scorns us; or the men of Troy + Are ceremonious courtiers. + +AENEAS Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd, + As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: + But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, + Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, + Jove's accord, + Nothing so full of heart. But peace, AEneas, + Peace, Trojan; lay thy finger on thy lips! + The worthiness of praise distains his worth, + If that the praised himself bring the praise forth: + But what the repining enemy commends, + That breath fame blows; that praise, sole sure, + transcends. + +AGAMEMNON Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself AEneas? + +AENEAS Ay, Greek, that is my name. + +AGAMEMNON What's your affair I pray you? + +AENEAS Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. + +AGAMEMNON He hears naught privately that comes from Troy. + +AENEAS Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: + I bring a trumpet to awake his ear, + To set his sense on the attentive bent, + And then to speak. + +AGAMEMNON Speak frankly as the wind; + It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour: + That thou shalt know. Trojan, he is awake, + He tells thee so himself. + +AENEAS Trumpet, blow loud, + Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents; + And every Greek of mettle, let him know, + What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud. + + [Trumpet sounds] + + We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy + A prince call'd Hector,--Priam is his father,-- + Who in this dull and long-continued truce + Is rusty grown: he bade me take a trumpet, + And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords! + If there be one among the fair'st of Greece + That holds his honour higher than his ease, + That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril, + That knows his valour, and knows not his fear, + That loves his mistress more than in confession, + With truant vows to her own lips he loves, + And dare avow her beauty and her worth + In other arms than hers,--to him this challenge. + Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, + Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, + He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, + Than ever Greek did compass in his arms, + And will to-morrow with his trumpet call + Midway between your tents and walls of Troy, + To rouse a Grecian that is true in love: + If any come, Hector shall honour him; + If none, he'll say in Troy when he retires, + The Grecian dames are sunburnt and not worth + The splinter of a lance. Even so much. + +AGAMEMNON This shall be told our lovers, Lord AEneas; + If none of them have soul in such a kind, + We left them all at home: but we are soldiers; + And may that soldier a mere recreant prove, + That means not, hath not, or is not in love! + If then one is, or hath, or means to be, + That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. + +NESTOR Tell him of Nestor, one that was a man + When Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is old now; + But if there be not in our Grecian host + One noble man that hath one spark of fire, + To answer for his love, tell him from me + I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver + And in my vantbrace put this wither'd brawn, + And meeting him will tell him that my lady + Was fairer than his grandam and as chaste + As may be in the world: his youth in flood, + I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. + +AENEAS Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth! + +ULYSSES Amen. + +AGAMEMNON Fair Lord AEneas, let me touch your hand; + To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir. + Achilles shall have word of this intent; + So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent: + Yourself shall feast with us before you go + And find the welcome of a noble foe. + + [Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR] + +ULYSSES Nestor! + +NESTOR What says Ulysses? + +ULYSSES I have a young conception in my brain; + Be you my time to bring it to some shape. + +NESTOR What is't? + +ULYSSES This 'tis: + Blunt wedges rive hard knots: the seeded pride + That hath to this maturity blown up + In rank Achilles must or now be cropp'd, + Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, + To overbulk us all. + +NESTOR Well, and how? + +ULYSSES This challenge that the gallant Hector sends, + However it is spread in general name, + Relates in purpose only to Achilles. + +NESTOR The purpose is perspicuous even as substance, + Whose grossness little characters sum up: + And, in the publication, make no strain, + But that Achilles, were his brain as barren + As banks of Libya,--though, Apollo knows, + 'Tis dry enough,--will, with great speed of judgment, + Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose + Pointing on him. + +ULYSSES And wake him to the answer, think you? + +NESTOR Yes, 'tis most meet: whom may you else oppose, + That can from Hector bring his honour off, + If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat, + Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; + For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute + With their finest palate: and trust to me, Ulysses, + Our imputation shall be oddly poised + In this wild action; for the success, + Although particular, shall give a scantling + Of good or bad unto the general; + And in such indexes, although small pricks + To their subsequent volumes, there is seen + The baby figure of the giant mass + Of things to come at large. It is supposed + He that meets Hector issues from our choice + And choice, being mutual act of all our souls, + Makes merit her election, and doth boil, + As 'twere from us all, a man distill'd + Out of our virtues; who miscarrying, + What heart receives from hence the conquering part, + To steel a strong opinion to themselves? + Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments, + In no less working than are swords and bows + Directive by the limbs. + +ULYSSES Give pardon to my speech: + Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector. + Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares, + And think, perchance, they'll sell; if not, + The lustre of the better yet to show, + Shall show the better. Do not consent + That ever Hector and Achilles meet; + For both our honour and our shame in this + Are dogg'd with two strange followers. + +NESTOR I see them not with my old eyes: what are they? + +ULYSSES What glory our Achilles shares from Hector, + Were he not proud, we all should share with him: + But he already is too insolent; + And we were better parch in Afric sun + Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, + Should he 'scape Hector fair: if he were foil'd, + Why then, we did our main opinion crush + In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery; + And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw + The sort to fight with Hector: among ourselves + Give him allowance for the better man; + For that will physic the great Myrmidon + Who broils in loud applause, and make him fall + His crest that prouder than blue Iris bends. + If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, + We'll dress him up in voices: if he fail, + Yet go we under our opinion still + That we have better men. But, hit or miss, + Our project's life this shape of sense assumes: + Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes. + +NESTOR Ulysses, + Now I begin to relish thy advice; + And I will give a taste of it forthwith + To Agamemnon: go we to him straight. + Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone + Must tarre the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A part of the Grecian camp. + + + [Enter AJAX and THERSITES] + +AJAX Thersites! + +THERSITES Agamemnon, how if he had boils? full, all over, + generally? + +AJAX Thersites! + +THERSITES And those boils did run? say so: did not the + general run then? were not that a botchy core? + +AJAX Dog! + +THERSITES Then would come some matter from him; I see none now. + +AJAX Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear? + + [Beating him] + + Feel, then. + +THERSITES The plague of Greece upon thee, thou mongrel + beef-witted lord! + +AJAX Speak then, thou vinewedst leaven, speak: I will + beat thee into handsomeness. + +THERSITES I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holiness: but, + I think, thy horse will sooner con an oration than + thou learn a prayer without book. Thou canst strike, + canst thou? a red murrain o' thy jade's tricks! + +AJAX Toadstool, learn me the proclamation. + +THERSITES Dost thou think I have no sense, thou strikest me thus? + +AJAX The proclamation! + +THERSITES Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. + +AJAX Do not, porpentine, do not: my fingers itch. + +THERSITES I would thou didst itch from head to foot and I had + the scratching of thee; I would make thee the + loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou art forth in + the incursions, thou strikest as slow as another. + +AJAX I say, the proclamation! + +THERSITES Thou grumblest and railest every hour on Achilles, + and thou art as full of envy at his greatness as + Cerberus is at Proserpine's beauty, ay, that thou + barkest at him. + +AJAX Mistress Thersites! + +THERSITES Thou shouldest strike him. + +AJAX Cobloaf! + +THERSITES He would pun thee into shivers with his fist, as a + sailor breaks a biscuit. + +AJAX [Beating him] You whoreson cur! + +THERSITES Do, do. + +AJAX Thou stool for a witch! + +THERSITES Ay, do, do; thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no + more brain than I have in mine elbows; an assinego + may tutor thee: thou scurvy-valiant ass! thou art + here but to thrash Trojans; and thou art bought and + sold among those of any wit, like a barbarian slave. + If thou use to beat me, I will begin at thy heel, and + tell what thou art by inches, thou thing of no + bowels, thou! + +AJAX You dog! + +THERSITES You scurvy lord! + +AJAX [Beating him] You cur! + +THERSITES Mars his idiot! do, rudeness; do, camel; do, do. + + [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] + +ACHILLES Why, how now, Ajax! wherefore do you thus? How now, + Thersites! what's the matter, man? + +THERSITES You see him there, do you? + +ACHILLES Ay; what's the matter? + +THERSITES Nay, look upon him. + +ACHILLES So I do: what's the matter? + +THERSITES Nay, but regard him well. + +ACHILLES 'Well!' why, I do so. + +THERSITES But yet you look not well upon him; for whosoever you + take him to be, he is Ajax. + +ACHILLES I know that, fool. + +THERSITES Ay, but that fool knows not himself. + +AJAX Therefore I beat thee. + +THERSITES Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he utters! his + evasions have ears thus long. I have bobbed his + brain more than he has beat my bones: I will buy + nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not + worth the nineth part of a sparrow. This lord, + Achilles, Ajax, who wears his wit in his belly and + his guts in his head, I'll tell you what I say of + him. + +ACHILLES What? + +THERSITES I say, this Ajax-- + + [Ajax offers to beat him] + +ACHILLES Nay, good Ajax. + +THERSITES Has not so much wit-- + +ACHILLES Nay, I must hold you. + +THERSITES As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for whom he + comes to fight. + +ACHILLES Peace, fool! + +THERSITES I would have peace and quietness, but the fool will + not: he there: that he: look you there. + +AJAX O thou damned cur! I shall-- + +ACHILLES Will you set your wit to a fool's? + +THERSITES No, I warrant you; for a fools will shame it. + +PATROCLUS Good words, Thersites. + +ACHILLES What's the quarrel? + +AJAX I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenor of the + proclamation, and he rails upon me. + +THERSITES I serve thee not. + +AJAX Well, go to, go to. + +THERSITES I serve here voluntarily. + +ACHILLES Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not + voluntary: no man is beaten voluntary: Ajax was + here the voluntary, and you as under an impress. + +THERSITES E'en so; a great deal of your wit, too, lies in your + sinews, or else there be liars. Hector have a great + catch, if he knock out either of your brains: a' + were as good crack a fusty nut with no kernel. + +ACHILLES What, with me too, Thersites? + +THERSITES There's Ulysses and old Nestor, whose wit was mouldy + ere your grandsires had nails on their toes, yoke you + like draught-oxen and make you plough up the wars. + +ACHILLES What, what? + +THERSITES Yes, good sooth: to, Achilles! to, Ajax! to! + +AJAX I shall cut out your tongue. + +THERSITES 'Tis no matter! I shall speak as much as thou + afterwards. + +PATROCLUS No more words, Thersites; peace! + +THERSITES I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, shall I? + +ACHILLES There's for you, Patroclus. + +THERSITES I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere I come + any more to your tents: I will keep where there is + wit stirring and leave the faction of fools. + + [Exit] + +PATROCLUS A good riddance. + +ACHILLES Marry, this, sir, is proclaim'd through all our host: + That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun, + Will with a trumpet 'twixt our tents and Troy + To-morrow morning call some knight to arms + That hath a stomach; and such a one that dare + Maintain--I know not what: 'tis trash. Farewell. + +AJAX Farewell. Who shall answer him? + +ACHILLES I know not: 'tis put to lottery; otherwise + He knew his man. + +AJAX O, meaning you. I will go learn more of it. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Troy. A room in Priam's palace. + + + [Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and HELENUS] + +PRIAM After so many hours, lives, speeches spent, + Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks: + 'Deliver Helen, and all damage else-- + As honour, loss of time, travail, expense, + Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is consumed + In hot digestion of this cormorant war-- + Shall be struck off.' Hector, what say you to't? + +HECTOR Though no man lesser fears the Greeks than I + As far as toucheth my particular, + Yet, dread Priam, + There is no lady of more softer bowels, + More spongy to suck in the sense of fear, + More ready to cry out 'Who knows what follows?' + Than Hector is: the wound of peace is surety, + Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd + The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches + To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go: + Since the first sword was drawn about this question, + Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes, + Hath been as dear as Helen; I mean, of ours: + If we have lost so many tenths of ours, + To guard a thing not ours nor worth to us, + Had it our name, the value of one ten, + What merit's in that reason which denies + The yielding of her up? + +TROILUS Fie, fie, my brother! + Weigh you the worth and honour of a king + So great as our dread father in a scale + Of common ounces? will you with counters sum + The past proportion of his infinite? + And buckle in a waist most fathomless + With spans and inches so diminutive + As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! + +HELENUS No marvel, though you bite so sharp at reasons, + You are so empty of them. Should not our father + Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons, + Because your speech hath none that tells him so? + +TROILUS You are for dreams and slumbers, brother priest; + You fur your gloves with reason. Here are + your reasons: + You know an enemy intends you harm; + You know a sword employ'd is perilous, + And reason flies the object of all harm: + Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds + A Grecian and his sword, if he do set + The very wings of reason to his heels + And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, + Or like a star disorb'd? Nay, if we talk of reason, + Let's shut our gates and sleep: manhood and honour + Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat + their thoughts + With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect + Make livers pale and lustihood deject. + +HECTOR Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost + The holding. + +TROILUS What is aught, but as 'tis valued? + +HECTOR But value dwells not in particular will; + It holds his estimate and dignity + As well wherein 'tis precious of itself + As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry + To make the service greater than the god + And the will dotes that is attributive + To what infectiously itself affects, + Without some image of the affected merit. + +TROILUS I take to-day a wife, and my election + Is led on in the conduct of my will; + My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, + Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores + Of will and judgment: how may I avoid, + Although my will distaste what it elected, + The wife I chose? there can be no evasion + To blench from this and to stand firm by honour: + We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, + When we have soil'd them, nor the remainder viands + We do not throw in unrespective sieve, + Because we now are full. It was thought meet + Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: + Your breath of full consent bellied his sails; + The seas and winds, old wranglers, took a truce + And did him service: he touch'd the ports desired, + And for an old aunt whom the Greeks held captive, + He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness + Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale the morning. + Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: + Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, + Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, + And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. + If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went-- + As you must needs, for you all cried 'Go, go,'-- + If you'll confess he brought home noble prize-- + As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your hands + And cried 'Inestimable!'--why do you now + The issue of your proper wisdoms rate, + And do a deed that fortune never did, + Beggar the estimation which you prized + Richer than sea and land? O, theft most base, + That we have stol'n what we do fear to keep! + But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stol'n, + That in their country did them that disgrace, + We fear to warrant in our native place! + +CASSANDRA [Within] Cry, Trojans, cry! + +PRIAM What noise? what shriek is this? + +TROILUS 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her voice. + +CASSANDRA [Within] Cry, Trojans! + +HECTOR It is Cassandra. + + [Enter CASSANDRA, raving] + +CASSANDRA Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thousand eyes, + And I will fill them with prophetic tears. + +HECTOR Peace, sister, peace! + +CASSANDRA Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled eld, + Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, + Add to my clamours! let us pay betimes + A moiety of that mass of moan to come. + Cry, Trojans, cry! practise your eyes with tears! + Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand; + Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. + Cry, Trojans, cry! a Helen and a woe: + Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. + + [Exit] + +HECTOR Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high strains + Of divination in our sister work + Some touches of remorse? or is your blood + So madly hot that no discourse of reason, + Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause, + Can qualify the same? + +TROILUS Why, brother Hector, + We may not think the justness of each act + Such and no other than event doth form it, + Nor once deject the courage of our minds, + Because Cassandra's mad: her brain-sick raptures + Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel + Which hath our several honours all engaged + To make it gracious. For my private part, + I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons: + And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us + Such things as might offend the weakest spleen + To fight for and maintain! + +PARIS Else might the world convince of levity + As well my undertakings as your counsels: + But I attest the gods, your full consent + Gave wings to my propension and cut off + All fears attending on so dire a project. + For what, alas, can these my single arms? + What Propugnation is in one man's valour, + To stand the push and enmity of those + This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, + Were I alone to pass the difficulties + And had as ample power as I have will, + Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done, + Nor faint in the pursuit. + +PRIAM Paris, you speak + Like one besotted on your sweet delights: + You have the honey still, but these the gall; + So to be valiant is no praise at all. + +PARIS Sir, I propose not merely to myself + The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; + But I would have the soil of her fair rape + Wiped off, in honourable keeping her. + What treason were it to the ransack'd queen, + Disgrace to your great worths and shame to me, + Now to deliver her possession up + On terms of base compulsion! Can it be + That so degenerate a strain as this + Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? + There's not the meanest spirit on our party + Without a heart to dare or sword to draw + When Helen is defended, nor none so noble + Whose life were ill bestow'd or death unfamed + Where Helen is the subject; then, I say, + Well may we fight for her whom, we know well, + The world's large spaces cannot parallel. + +HECTOR Paris and Troilus, you have both said well, + And on the cause and question now in hand + Have glozed, but superficially: not much + Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought + Unfit to hear moral philosophy: + The reasons you allege do more conduce + To the hot passion of distemper'd blood + Than to make up a free determination + 'Twixt right and wrong, for pleasure and revenge + Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice + Of any true decision. Nature craves + All dues be render'd to their owners: now, + What nearer debt in all humanity + Than wife is to the husband? If this law + Of nature be corrupted through affection, + And that great minds, of partial indulgence + To their benumbed wills, resist the same, + There is a law in each well-order'd nation + To curb those raging appetites that are + Most disobedient and refractory. + If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, + As it is known she is, these moral laws + Of nature and of nations speak aloud + To have her back return'd: thus to persist + In doing wrong extenuates not wrong, + But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion + Is this in way of truth; yet ne'ertheless, + My spritely brethren, I propend to you + In resolution to keep Helen still, + For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance + Upon our joint and several dignities. + +TROILUS Why, there you touch'd the life of our design: + Were it not glory that we more affected + Than the performance of our heaving spleens, + I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood + Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, + She is a theme of honour and renown, + A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds, + Whose present courage may beat down our foes, + And fame in time to come canonize us; + For, I presume, brave Hector would not lose + So rich advantage of a promised glory + As smiles upon the forehead of this action + For the wide world's revenue. + +HECTOR I am yours, + You valiant offspring of great Priamus. + I have a roisting challenge sent amongst + The dun and factious nobles of the Greeks + Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits: + I was advertised their great general slept, + Whilst emulation in the army crept: + This, I presume, will wake him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. + + + [Enter THERSITES, solus] + +THERSITES How now, Thersites! what lost in the labyrinth of + thy fury! Shall the elephant Ajax carry it thus? He + beats me, and I rail at him: O, worthy satisfaction! + would it were otherwise; that I could beat him, + whilst he railed at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn to + conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue of + my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles, a + rare enginer! If Troy be not taken till these two + undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall of + themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, + forget that thou art Jove, the king of gods and, + Mercury, lose all the serpentine craft of thy + caduceus, if ye take not that little, little less + than little wit from them that they have! which + short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant + scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly + from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and + cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the + whole camp! or rather, the bone-ache! for that, + methinks, is the curse dependent on those that war + for a placket. I have said my prayers and devil Envy + say Amen. What ho! my Lord Achilles! + + [Enter PATROCLUS] + +PATROCLUS Who's there? Thersites! Good Thersites, come in and rail. + +THERSITES If I could have remembered a gilt counterfeit, thou + wouldst not have slipped out of my contemplation: but + it is no matter; thyself upon thyself! The common + curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in + great revenue! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and + discipline come not near thee! Let thy blood be thy + direction till thy death! then if she that lays thee + out says thou art a fair corse, I'll be sworn and + sworn upon't she never shrouded any but lazars. + Amen. Where's Achilles? + +PATROCLUS What, art thou devout? wast thou in prayer? + +THERSITES Ay: the heavens hear me! + + [Enter ACHILLES] + +ACHILLES Who's there? + +PATROCLUS Thersites, my lord. + +ACHILLES Where, where? Art thou come? why, my cheese, my + digestion, why hast thou not served thyself in to + my table so many meals? Come, what's Agamemnon? + +THERSITES Thy commander, Achilles. Then tell me, Patroclus, + what's Achilles? + +PATROCLUS Thy lord, Thersites: then tell me, I pray thee, + what's thyself? + +THERSITES Thy knower, Patroclus: then tell me, Patroclus, + what art thou? + +PATROCLUS Thou mayst tell that knowest. + +ACHILLES O, tell, tell. + +THERSITES I'll decline the whole question. Agamemnon commands + Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am Patroclus' + knower, and Patroclus is a fool. + +PATROCLUS You rascal! + +THERSITES Peace, fool! I have not done. + +ACHILLES He is a privileged man. Proceed, Thersites. + +THERSITES Agamemnon is a fool; Achilles is a fool; Thersites + is a fool, and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is a fool. + +ACHILLES Derive this; come. + +THERSITES Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command Achilles; + Achilles is a fool to be commanded of Agamemnon; + Thersites is a fool to serve such a fool, and + Patroclus is a fool positive. + +PATROCLUS Why am I a fool? + +THERSITES Make that demand of the prover. It suffices me thou + art. Look you, who comes here? + +ACHILLES Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. + Come in with me, Thersites. + + [Exit] + +THERSITES Here is such patchery, such juggling and such + knavery! all the argument is a cuckold and a + whore; a good quarrel to draw emulous factions + and bleed to death upon. Now, the dry serpigo on + the subject! and war and lechery confound all! + + [Exit] + + [Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, and AJAX] + +AGAMEMNON Where is Achilles? + +PATROCLUS Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord. + +AGAMEMNON Let it be known to him that we are here. + He shent our messengers; and we lay by + Our appertainments, visiting of him: + Let him be told so; lest perchance he think + We dare not move the question of our place, + Or know not what we are. + +PATROCLUS I shall say so to him. + + [Exit] + +ULYSSES We saw him at the opening of his tent: + He is not sick. + +AJAX Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart: you may call it + melancholy, if you will favour the man; but, by my + head, 'tis pride: but why, why? let him show us the + cause. A word, my lord. + + [Takes AGAMEMNON aside] + +NESTOR What moves Ajax thus to bay at him? + +ULYSSES Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. + +NESTOR Who, Thersites? + +ULYSSES He. + +NESTOR Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost his argument. + +ULYSSES No, you see, he is his argument that has his + argument, Achilles. + +NESTOR All the better; their fraction is more our wish than + their faction: but it was a strong composure a fool + could disunite. + +ULYSSES The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily + untie. Here comes Patroclus. + + [Re-enter PATROCLUS] + +NESTOR No Achilles with him. + +ULYSSES The elephant hath joints, but none for courtesy: + his legs are legs for necessity, not for flexure. + +PATROCLUS Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry, + If any thing more than your sport and pleasure + Did move your greatness and this noble state + To call upon him; he hopes it is no other + But for your health and your digestion sake, + And after-dinner's breath. + +AGAMEMNON Hear you, Patroclus: + We are too well acquainted with these answers: + But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, + Cannot outfly our apprehensions. + Much attribute he hath, and much the reason + Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues, + Not virtuously on his own part beheld, + Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss, + Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish, + Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him, + We come to speak with him; and you shall not sin, + If you do say we think him over-proud + And under-honest, in self-assumption greater + Than in the note of judgment; and worthier + than himself + Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on, + Disguise the holy strength of their command, + And underwrite in an observing kind + His humorous predominance; yea, watch + His pettish lunes, his ebbs, his flows, as if + The passage and whole carriage of this action + Rode on his tide. Go tell him this, and add, + That if he overhold his price so much, + We'll none of him; but let him, like an engine + Not portable, lie under this report: + 'Bring action hither, this cannot go to war: + A stirring dwarf we do allowance give + Before a sleeping giant.' Tell him so. + +PATROCLUS I shall; and bring his answer presently. + + [Exit] + +AGAMEMNON In second voice we'll not be satisfied; + We come to speak with him. Ulysses, enter you. + + [Exit ULYSSES] + +AJAX What is he more than another? + +AGAMEMNON No more than what he thinks he is. + +AJAX Is he so much? Do you not think he thinks himself a + better man than I am? + +AGAMEMNON No question. + +AJAX Will you subscribe his thought, and say he is? + +AGAMEMNON No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, as valiant, as + wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and altogether + more tractable. + +AJAX Why should a man be proud? How doth pride grow? I + know not what pride is. + +AGAMEMNON Your mind is the clearer, Ajax, and your virtues the + fairer. He that is proud eats up himself: pride is + his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; + and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours + the deed in the praise. + +AJAX I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engendering of toads. + +NESTOR Yet he loves himself: is't not strange? + + [Aside] + + [Re-enter ULYSSES] + +ULYSSES Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. + +AGAMEMNON What's his excuse? + +ULYSSES He doth rely on none, + But carries on the stream of his dispose + Without observance or respect of any, + In will peculiar and in self-admission. + +AGAMEMNON Why will he not upon our fair request + Untent his person and share the air with us? + +ULYSSES Things small as nothing, for request's sake only, + He makes important: possess'd he is with greatness, + And speaks not to himself but with a pride + That quarrels at self-breath: imagined worth + Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse + That 'twixt his mental and his active parts + Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages + And batters down himself: what should I say? + He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it + Cry 'No recovery.' + +AGAMEMNON Let Ajax go to him. + Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent: + 'Tis said he holds you well, and will be led + At your request a little from himself. + +ULYSSES O Agamemnon, let it not be so! + We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes + When they go from Achilles: shall the proud lord + That bastes his arrogance with his own seam + And never suffers matter of the world + Enter his thoughts, save such as do revolve + And ruminate himself, shall he be worshipp'd + Of that we hold an idol more than he? + No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord + Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired; + Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit, + As amply titled as Achilles is, + By going to Achilles: + That were to enlard his fat already pride + And add more coals to Cancer when he burns + With entertaining great Hyperion. + This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid, + And say in thunder 'Achilles go to him.' + +NESTOR [Aside to DIOMEDES] O, this is well; he rubs the + vein of him. + +DIOMEDES [Aside to NESTOR] And how his silence drinks up + this applause! + +AJAX If I go to him, with my armed fist I'll pash him o'er the face. + +AGAMEMNON O, no, you shall not go. + +AJAX An a' be proud with me, I'll pheeze his pride: + Let me go to him. + +ULYSSES Not for the worth that hangs upon our quarrel. + +AJAX A paltry, insolent fellow! + +NESTOR How he describes himself! + +AJAX Can he not be sociable? + +ULYSSES The raven chides blackness. + +AJAX I'll let his humours blood. + +AGAMEMNON He will be the physician that should be the patient. + +AJAX An all men were o' my mind,-- + +ULYSSES Wit would be out of fashion. + +AJAX A' should not bear it so, a' should eat swords first: + shall pride carry it? + +NESTOR An 'twould, you'ld carry half. + +ULYSSES A' would have ten shares. + +AJAX I will knead him; I'll make him supple. + +NESTOR He's not yet through warm: force him with praises: + pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. + +ULYSSES [To AGAMEMNON] My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. + +NESTOR Our noble general, do not do so. + +DIOMEDES You must prepare to fight without Achilles. + +ULYSSES Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm. + Here is a man--but 'tis before his face; + I will be silent. + +NESTOR Wherefore should you so? + He is not emulous, as Achilles is. + +ULYSSES Know the whole world, he is as valiant. + +AJAX A whoreson dog, that shall pelter thus with us! + Would he were a Trojan! + +NESTOR What a vice were it in Ajax now,-- + +ULYSSES If he were proud,-- + +DIOMEDES Or covetous of praise,-- + +ULYSSES Ay, or surly borne,-- + +DIOMEDES Or strange, or self-affected! + +ULYSSES Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet composure; + Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck: + Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature + Thrice famed, beyond all erudition: + But he that disciplined thy arms to fight, + Let Mars divide eternity in twain, + And give him half: and, for thy vigour, + Bull-bearing Milo his addition yield + To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, + Which, like a bourn, a pale, a shore, confines + Thy spacious and dilated parts: here's Nestor; + Instructed by the antiquary times, + He must, he is, he cannot but be wise: + Put pardon, father Nestor, were your days + As green as Ajax' and your brain so temper'd, + You should not have the eminence of him, + But be as Ajax. + +AJAX Shall I call you father? + +NESTOR Ay, my good son. + +DIOMEDES Be ruled by him, Lord Ajax. + +ULYSSES There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles + Keeps thicket. Please it our great general + To call together all his state of war; + Fresh kings are come to Troy: to-morrow + We must with all our main of power stand fast: + And here's a lord,--come knights from east to west, + And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. + +AGAMEMNON Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep: + Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Troy. Priam's palace. + + + [Enter a Servant and PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS Friend, you! pray you, a word: do not you follow + the young Lord Paris? + +Servant Ay, sir, when he goes before me. + +PANDARUS You depend upon him, I mean? + +Servant Sir, I do depend upon the lord. + +PANDARUS You depend upon a noble gentleman; I must needs + praise him. + +Servant The lord be praised! + +PANDARUS You know me, do you not? + +Servant Faith, sir, superficially. + +PANDARUS Friend, know me better; I am the Lord Pandarus. + +Servant I hope I shall know your honour better. + +PANDARUS I do desire it. + +Servant You are in the state of grace. + +PANDARUS Grace! not so, friend: honour and lordship are my titles. + + [Music within] + + What music is this? + +Servant I do but partly know, sir: it is music in parts. + +PANDARUS Know you the musicians? + +Servant Wholly, sir. + +PANDARUS Who play they to? + +Servant To the hearers, sir. + +PANDARUS At whose pleasure, friend + +Servant At mine, sir, and theirs that love music. + +PANDARUS Command, I mean, friend. + +Servant Who shall I command, sir? + +PANDARUS Friend, we understand not one another: I am too + courtly and thou art too cunning. At whose request + do these men play? + +Servant That's to 't indeed, sir: marry, sir, at the request + of Paris my lord, who's there in person; with him, + the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beauty, love's + invisible soul,-- + +PANDARUS Who, my cousin Cressida? + +Servant No, sir, Helen: could you not find out that by her + attributes? + +PANDARUS It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not seen the + Lady Cressida. I come to speak with Paris from the + Prince Troilus: I will make a complimental assault + upon him, for my business seethes. + +Servant Sodden business! there's a stewed phrase indeed! + + [Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended] + +PANDARUS Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair + company! fair desires, in all fair measure, + fairly guide them! especially to you, fair queen! + fair thoughts be your fair pillow! + +HELEN Dear lord, you are full of fair words. + +PANDARUS You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. Fair + prince, here is good broken music. + +PARIS You have broke it, cousin: and, by my life, you + shall make it whole again; you shall piece it out + with a piece of your performance. Nell, he is full + of harmony. + +PANDARUS Truly, lady, no. + +HELEN O, sir,-- + +PANDARUS Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. + +PARIS Well said, my lord! well, you say so in fits. + +PANDARUS I have business to my lord, dear queen. My lord, + will you vouchsafe me a word? + +HELEN Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll hear you + sing, certainly. + +PANDARUS Well, sweet queen. you are pleasant with me. But, + marry, thus, my lord: my dear lord and most esteemed + friend, your brother Troilus,-- + +HELEN My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord,-- + +PANDARUS Go to, sweet queen, to go:--commends himself most + affectionately to you,-- + +HELEN You shall not bob us out of our melody: if you do, + our melancholy upon your head! + +PANDARUS Sweet queen, sweet queen! that's a sweet queen, i' faith. + +HELEN And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour offence. + +PANDARUS Nay, that shall not serve your turn; that shall not, + in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such words; no, + no. And, my lord, he desires you, that if the king + call for him at supper, you will make his excuse. + +HELEN My Lord Pandarus,-- + +PANDARUS What says my sweet queen, my very very sweet queen? + +PARIS What exploit's in hand? where sups he to-night? + +HELEN Nay, but, my lord,-- + +PANDARUS What says my sweet queen? My cousin will fall out + with you. You must not know where he sups. + +PARIS I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cressida. + +PANDARUS No, no, no such matter; you are wide: come, your + disposer is sick. + +PARIS Well, I'll make excuse. + +PANDARUS Ay, good my lord. Why should you say Cressida? no, + your poor disposer's sick. + +PARIS I spy. + +PANDARUS You spy! what do you spy? Come, give me an + instrument. Now, sweet queen. + +HELEN Why, this is kindly done. + +PANDARUS My niece is horribly in love with a thing you have, + sweet queen. + +HELEN She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my lord Paris. + +PANDARUS He! no, she'll none of him; they two are twain. + +HELEN Falling in, after falling out, may make them three. + +PANDARUS Come, come, I'll hear no more of this; I'll sing + you a song now. + +HELEN Ay, ay, prithee now. By my troth, sweet lord, thou + hast a fine forehead. + +PANDARUS Ay, you may, you may. + +HELEN Let thy song be love: this love will undo us all. + O Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! + +PANDARUS Love! ay, that it shall, i' faith. + +PARIS Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love. + +PANDARUS In good troth, it begins so. + + [Sings] + + Love, love, nothing but love, still more! + For, O, love's bow + Shoots buck and doe: + The shaft confounds, + Not that it wounds, + But tickles still the sore. + These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die! + Yet that which seems the wound to kill, + Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! + So dying love lives still: + Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! + Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! + Heigh-ho! + +HELEN In love, i' faith, to the very tip of the nose. + +PARIS He eats nothing but doves, love, and that breeds hot + blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts, and hot + thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is love. + +PANDARUS Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot + thoughts, and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers: + is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, who's + a-field to-day? + +PARIS Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and all the + gallantry of Troy: I would fain have armed to-day, + but my Nell would not have it so. How chance my + brother Troilus went not? + +HELEN He hangs the lip at something: you know all, Lord Pandarus. + +PANDARUS Not I, honey-sweet queen. I long to hear how they + sped to-day. You'll remember your brother's excuse? + +PARIS To a hair. + +PANDARUS Farewell, sweet queen. + +HELEN Commend me to your niece. + +PANDARUS I will, sweet queen. + + [Exit] + + [A retreat sounded] + +PARIS They're come from field: let us to Priam's hall, + To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you + To help unarm our Hector: his stubborn buckles, + With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd, + Shall more obey than to the edge of steel + Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more + Than all the island kings,--disarm great Hector. + +HELEN 'Twill make us proud to be his servant, Paris; + Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty + Gives us more palm in beauty than we have, + Yea, overshines ourself. + +PARIS Sweet, above thought I love thee. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The same. Pandarus' orchard. + + + [Enter PANDARUS and Troilus's Boy, meeting] + +PANDARUS How now! where's thy master? at my cousin + Cressida's? + +Boy No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him thither. + +PANDARUS O, here he comes. + + [Enter TROILUS] + + How now, how now! + +TROILUS Sirrah, walk off. + + [Exit Boy] + +PANDARUS Have you seen my cousin? + +TROILUS No, Pandarus: I stalk about her door, + Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks + Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, + And give me swift transportance to those fields + Where I may wallow in the lily-beds + Proposed for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, + From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings + And fly with me to Cressid! + +PANDARUS Walk here i' the orchard, I'll bring her straight. + + [Exit] + +TROILUS I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. + The imaginary relish is so sweet + That it enchants my sense: what will it be, + When that the watery palate tastes indeed + Love's thrice repured nectar? death, I fear me, + Swooning destruction, or some joy too fine, + Too subtle-potent, tuned too sharp in sweetness, + For the capacity of my ruder powers: + I fear it much; and I do fear besides, + That I shall lose distinction in my joys; + As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps + The enemy flying. + + [Re-enter PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS She's making her ready, she'll come straight: you + must be witty now. She does so blush, and fetches + her wind so short, as if she were frayed with a + sprite: I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest + villain: she fetches her breath as short as a + new-ta'en sparrow. + + [Exit] + +TROILUS Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom: + My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; + And all my powers do their bestowing lose, + Like vassalage at unawares encountering + The eye of majesty. + + [Re-enter PANDARUS with CRESSIDA] + +PANDARUS Come, come, what need you blush? shame's a baby. + Here she is now: swear the oaths now to her that + you have sworn to me. What, are you gone again? + you must be watched ere you be made tame, must you? + Come your ways, come your ways; an you draw backward, + we'll put you i' the fills. Why do you not speak to + her? Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your + picture. Alas the day, how loath you are to offend + daylight! an 'twere dark, you'ld close sooner. + So, so; rub on, and kiss the mistress. How now! + a kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the air + is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out ere + I part you. The falcon as the tercel, for all the + ducks i' the river: go to, go to. + +TROILUS You have bereft me of all words, lady. + +PANDARUS Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but she'll + bereave you o' the deeds too, if she call your + activity in question. What, billing again? Here's + 'In witness whereof the parties interchangeably'-- + Come in, come in: I'll go get a fire. + + [Exit] + +CRESSIDA Will you walk in, my lord? + +TROILUS O Cressida, how often have I wished me thus! + +CRESSIDA Wished, my lord! The gods grant,--O my lord! + +TROILUS What should they grant? what makes this pretty + abruption? What too curious dreg espies my sweet + lady in the fountain of our love? + +CRESSIDA More dregs than water, if my fears have eyes. + +TROILUS Fears make devils of cherubims; they never see truly. + +CRESSIDA Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer + footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to + fear the worst oft cures the worse. + +TROILUS O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all Cupid's + pageant there is presented no monster. + +CRESSIDA Nor nothing monstrous neither? + +TROILUS Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep + seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking + it harder for our mistress to devise imposition + enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. + This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will + is infinite and the execution confined, that the + desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit. + +CRESSIDA They say all lovers swear more performance than they + are able and yet reserve an ability that they never + perform, vowing more than the perfection of ten and + discharging less than the tenth part of one. They + that have the voice of lions and the act of hares, + are they not monsters? + +TROILUS Are there such? such are not we: praise us as we + are tasted, allow us as we prove; our head shall go + bare till merit crown it: no perfection in reversion + shall have a praise in present: we will not name + desert before his birth, and, being born, his addition + shall be humble. Few words to fair faith: Troilus + shall be such to Cressid as what envy can say worst + shall be a mock for his truth, and what truth can + speak truest not truer than Troilus. + +CRESSIDA Will you walk in, my lord? + + [Re-enter PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS What, blushing still? have you not done talking yet? + +CRESSIDA Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate to you. + +PANDARUS I thank you for that: if my lord get a boy of you, + you'll give him me. Be true to my lord: if he + flinch, chide me for it. + +TROILUS You know now your hostages; your uncle's word and my + firm faith. + +PANDARUS Nay, I'll give my word for her too: our kindred, + though they be long ere they are wooed, they are + constant being won: they are burs, I can tell you; + they'll stick where they are thrown. + +CRESSIDA Boldness comes to me now, and brings me heart. + Prince Troilus, I have loved you night and day + For many weary months. + +TROILUS Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? + +CRESSIDA Hard to seem won: but I was won, my lord, + With the first glance that ever--pardon me-- + If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. + I love you now; but not, till now, so much + But I might master it: in faith, I lie; + My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown + Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools! + Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to us, + When we are so unsecret to ourselves? + But, though I loved you well, I woo'd you not; + And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man, + Or that we women had men's privilege + Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue, + For in this rapture I shall surely speak + The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, + Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws + My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth. + +TROILUS And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence. + +PANDARUS Pretty, i' faith. + +CRESSIDA My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; + 'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss: + I am ashamed. O heavens! what have I done? + For this time will I take my leave, my lord. + +TROILUS Your leave, sweet Cressid! + +PANDARUS Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow morning,-- + +CRESSIDA Pray you, content you. + +TROILUS What offends you, lady? + +CRESSIDA Sir, mine own company. + +TROILUS You cannot shun Yourself. + +CRESSIDA Let me go and try: + I have a kind of self resides with you; + But an unkind self, that itself will leave, + To be another's fool. I would be gone: + Where is my wit? I know not what I speak. + +TROILUS Well know they what they speak that speak so wisely. + +CRESSIDA Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than love; + And fell so roundly to a large confession, + To angle for your thoughts: but you are wise, + Or else you love not, for to be wise and love + Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above. + +TROILUS O that I thought it could be in a woman-- + As, if it can, I will presume in you-- + To feed for aye her ramp and flames of love; + To keep her constancy in plight and youth, + Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind + That doth renew swifter than blood decays! + Or that persuasion could but thus convince me, + That my integrity and truth to you + Might be affronted with the match and weight + Of such a winnow'd purity in love; + How were I then uplifted! but, alas! + I am as true as truth's simplicity + And simpler than the infancy of truth. + +CRESSIDA In that I'll war with you. + +TROILUS O virtuous fight, + When right with right wars who shall be most right! + True swains in love shall in the world to come + Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, + Full of protest, of oath and big compare, + Want similes, truth tired with iteration, + As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, + As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, + As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, + Yet, after all comparisons of truth, + As truth's authentic author to be cited, + 'As true as Troilus' shall crown up the verse, + And sanctify the numbers. + +CRESSIDA Prophet may you be! + If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, + When time is old and hath forgot itself, + When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, + And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up, + And mighty states characterless are grated + To dusty nothing, yet let memory, + From false to false, among false maids in love, + Upbraid my falsehood! when they've said 'as false + As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth, + As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, + Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son,' + 'Yea,' let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood, + 'As false as Cressid.' + +PANDARUS Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal it; I'll be the + witness. Here I hold your hand, here my cousin's. + If ever you prove false one to another, since I have + taken such pains to bring you together, let all + pitiful goers-between be called to the world's end + after my name; call them all Pandars; let all + constant men be Troiluses, all false women Cressids, + and all brokers-between Pandars! say, amen. + +TROILUS Amen. + +CRESSIDA Amen. + +PANDARUS Amen. Whereupon I will show you a chamber with a + bed; which bed, because it shall not speak of your + pretty encounters, press it to death: away! + And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here + Bed, chamber, Pandar to provide this gear! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. + + + [Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR, AJAX, + MENELAUS, and CALCHAS] + +CALCHAS Now, princes, for the service I have done you, + The advantage of the time prompts me aloud + To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind + That, through the sight I bear in things to love, + I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession, + Incurr'd a traitor's name; exposed myself, + From certain and possess'd conveniences, + To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me all + That time, acquaintance, custom and condition + Made tame and most familiar to my nature, + And here, to do you service, am become + As new into the world, strange, unacquainted: + I do beseech you, as in way of taste, + To give me now a little benefit, + Out of those many register'd in promise, + Which, you say, live to come in my behalf. + +AGAMEMNON What wouldst thou of us, Trojan? make demand. + +CALCHAS You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor, + Yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear. + Oft have you--often have you thanks therefore-- + Desired my Cressid in right great exchange, + Whom Troy hath still denied: but this Antenor, + I know, is such a wrest in their affairs + That their negotiations all must slack, + Wanting his manage; and they will almost + Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, + In change of him: let him be sent, great princes, + And he shall buy my daughter; and her presence + Shall quite strike off all service I have done, + In most accepted pain. + +AGAMEMNON Let Diomedes bear him, + And bring us Cressid hither: Calchas shall have + What he requests of us. Good Diomed, + Furnish you fairly for this interchange: + Withal bring word if Hector will to-morrow + Be answer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. + +DIOMEDES This shall I undertake; and 'tis a burden + Which I am proud to bear. + + [Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHAS] + + [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their tent] + +ULYSSES Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent: + Please it our general to pass strangely by him, + As if he were forgot; and, princes all, + Lay negligent and loose regard upon him: + I will come last. 'Tis like he'll question me + Why such unplausive eyes are bent on him: + If so, I have derision medicinable, + To use between your strangeness and his pride, + Which his own will shall have desire to drink: + It may be good: pride hath no other glass + To show itself but pride, for supple knees + Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees. + +AGAMEMNON We'll execute your purpose, and put on + A form of strangeness as we pass along: + So do each lord, and either greet him not, + Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more + Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. + +ACHILLES What, comes the general to speak with me? + You know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. + +AGAMEMNON What says Achilles? would he aught with us? + +NESTOR Would you, my lord, aught with the general? + +ACHILLES No. + +NESTOR Nothing, my lord. + +AGAMEMNON The better. + + [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR] + +ACHILLES Good day, good day. + +MENELAUS How do you? how do you? + + [Exit] + +ACHILLES What, does the cuckold scorn me? + +AJAX How now, Patroclus! + +ACHILLES Good morrow, Ajax. + +AJAX Ha? + +ACHILLES Good morrow. + +AJAX Ay, and good next day too. + + [Exit] + +ACHILLES What mean these fellows? Know they not Achilles? + +PATROCLUS They pass by strangely: they were used to bend + To send their smiles before them to Achilles; + To come as humbly as they used to creep + To holy altars. + +ACHILLES What, am I poor of late? + 'Tis certain, greatness, once fall'n out with fortune, + Must fall out with men too: what the declined is + He shall as soon read in the eyes of others + As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies, + Show not their mealy wings but to the summer, + And not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honour, but honour for those honours + That are without him, as place, riches, favour, + Prizes of accident as oft as merit: + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me: + Fortune and I are friends: I do enjoy + At ample point all that I did possess, + Save these men's looks; who do, methinks, find out + Something not worth in me such rich beholding + As they have often given. Here is Ulysses; + I'll interrupt his reading. + How now Ulysses! + +ULYSSES Now, great Thetis' son! + +ACHILLES What are you reading? + +ULYSSES A strange fellow here + Writes me: 'That man, how dearly ever parted, + How much in having, or without or in, + Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, + Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection; + As when his virtues shining upon others + Heat them and they retort that heat again + To the first giver.' + +ACHILLES This is not strange, Ulysses. + The beauty that is borne here in the face + The bearer knows not, but commends itself + To others' eyes; nor doth the eye itself, + That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself, + Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed + Salutes each other with each other's form; + For speculation turns not to itself, + Till it hath travell'd and is mirror'd there + Where it may see itself. This is not strange at all. + +ULYSSES I do not strain at the position,-- + It is familiar,--but at the author's drift; + Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves + That no man is the lord of any thing, + Though in and of him there be much consisting, + Till he communicate his parts to others: + Nor doth he of himself know them for aught + Till he behold them form'd in the applause + Where they're extended; who, like an arch, + reverberates + The voice again, or, like a gate of steel + Fronting the sun, receives and renders back + His figure and his heat. I was much wrapt in this; + And apprehended here immediately + The unknown Ajax. + Heavens, what a man is there! a very horse, + That has he knows not what. Nature, what things there are + Most abject in regard and dear in use! + What things again most dear in the esteem + And poor in worth! Now shall we see to-morrow-- + An act that very chance doth throw upon him-- + Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some men do, + While some men leave to do! + How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, + Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes! + How one man eats into another's pride, + While pride is fasting in his wantonness! + To see these Grecian lords!--why, even already + They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder, + As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast + And great Troy shrieking. + +ACHILLES I do believe it; for they pass'd by me + As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me + Good word nor look: what, are my deeds forgot? + +ULYSSES Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, + Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, + A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: + Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd + As fast as they are made, forgot as soon + As done: perseverance, dear my lord, + Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang + Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail + In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; + For honour travels in a strait so narrow, + Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; + For emulation hath a thousand sons + That one by one pursue: if you give way, + Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, + Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by + And leave you hindmost; + Or like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, + Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, + O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present, + Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; + For time is like a fashionable host + That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, + And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, + Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not + virtue seek + Remuneration for the thing it was; + For beauty, wit, + High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, + Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all + To envious and calumniating time. + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, + That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, + Though they are made and moulded of things past, + And give to dust that is a little gilt + More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. + The present eye praises the present object. + Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, + That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; + Since things in motion sooner catch the eye + Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee, + And still it might, and yet it may again, + If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive + And case thy reputation in thy tent; + Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late, + Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods themselves + And drave great Mars to faction. + +ACHILLES Of this my privacy + I have strong reasons. + +ULYSSES But 'gainst your privacy + The reasons are more potent and heroical: + 'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love + With one of Priam's daughters. + +ACHILLES Ha! known! + +ULYSSES Is that a wonder? + The providence that's in a watchful state + Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold, + Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps, + Keeps place with thought and almost, like the gods, + Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. + There is a mystery--with whom relation + Durst never meddle--in the soul of state; + Which hath an operation more divine + Than breath or pen can give expressure to: + All the commerce that you have had with Troy + As perfectly is ours as yours, my lord; + And better would it fit Achilles much + To throw down Hector than Polyxena: + But it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at home, + When fame shall in our islands sound her trump, + And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, + 'Great Hector's sister did Achilles win, + But our great Ajax bravely beat down him.' + Farewell, my lord: I as your lover speak; + The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break. + + [Exit] + +PATROCLUS To this effect, Achilles, have I moved you: + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man + In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this; + They think my little stomach to the war + And your great love to me restrains you thus: + Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid + Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, + And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, + Be shook to air. + +ACHILLES Shall Ajax fight with Hector? + +PATROCLUS Ay, and perhaps receive much honour by him. + +ACHILLES I see my reputation is at stake + My fame is shrewdly gored. + +PATROCLUS O, then, beware; + Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves: + Omission to do what is necessary + Seals a commission to a blank of danger; + And danger, like an ague, subtly taints + Even then when we sit idly in the sun. + +ACHILLES Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclus: + I'll send the fool to Ajax and desire him + To invite the Trojan lords after the combat + To see us here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing, + An appetite that I am sick withal, + To see great Hector in his weeds of peace, + To talk with him and to behold his visage, + Even to my full of view. + + [Enter THERSITES] + + A labour saved! + +THERSITES A wonder! + +ACHILLES What? + +THERSITES Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for himself. + +ACHILLES How so? + +THERSITES He must fight singly to-morrow with Hector, and is so + prophetically proud of an heroical cudgelling that he + raves in saying nothing. + +ACHILLES How can that be? + +THERSITES Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock,--a stride + and a stand: ruminates like an hostess that hath no + arithmetic but her brain to set down her reckoning: + bites his lip with a politic regard, as who should + say 'There were wit in this head, an 'twould out;' + and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire + in a flint, which will not show without knocking. + The man's undone forever; for if Hector break not his + neck i' the combat, he'll break 't himself in + vain-glory. He knows not me: I said 'Good morrow, + Ajax;' and he replies 'Thanks, Agamemnon.' What think + you of this man that takes me for the general? He's + grown a very land-fish, language-less, a monster. + A plague of opinion! a man may wear it on both + sides, like a leather jerkin. + +ACHILLES Thou must be my ambassador to him, Thersites. + +THERSITES Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he professes not + answering: speaking is for beggars; he wears his + tongue in's arms. I will put on his presence: let + Patroclus make demands to me, you shall see the + pageant of Ajax. + +ACHILLES To him, Patroclus; tell him I humbly desire the + valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous Hector + to come unarmed to my tent, and to procure + safe-conduct for his person of the magnanimous + and most illustrious six-or-seven-times-honoured + captain-general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon, + et cetera. Do this. + +PATROCLUS Jove bless great Ajax! + +THERSITES Hum! + +PATROCLUS I come from the worthy Achilles,-- + +THERSITES Ha! + +PATROCLUS Who most humbly desires you to invite Hector to his tent,-- + +THERSITES Hum! + +PATROCLUS And to procure safe-conduct from Agamemnon. + +THERSITES Agamemnon! + +PATROCLUS Ay, my lord. + +THERSITES Ha! + +PATROCLUS What say you to't? + +THERSITES God b' wi' you, with all my heart. + +PATROCLUS Your answer, sir. + +THERSITES If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven o'clock it will + go one way or other: howsoever, he shall pay for me + ere he has me. + +PATROCLUS Your answer, sir. + +THERSITES Fare you well, with all my heart. + +ACHILLES Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? + +THERSITES No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music will be in + him when Hector has knocked out his brains, I know + not; but, I am sure, none, unless the fiddler Apollo + get his sinews to make catlings on. + +ACHILLES Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him straight. + +THERSITES Let me bear another to his horse; for that's the more + capable creature. + +ACHILLES My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd; + And I myself see not the bottom of it. + + [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] + +THERSITES Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, + that I might water an ass at it! I had rather be a + tick in a sheep than such a valiant ignorance. + + [Exit] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Troy. A street. + + + [Enter, from one side, AENEAS, and Servant with a + torch; from the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, + DIOMEDES, and others, with torches] + +PARIS See, ho! who is that there? + +DEIPHOBUS It is the Lord AEneas. + +AENEAS Is the prince there in person? + Had I so good occasion to lie long + As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business + Should rob my bed-mate of my company. + +DIOMEDES That's my mind too. Good morrow, Lord AEneas. + +PARIS A valiant Greek, AEneas,--take his hand,-- + Witness the process of your speech, wherein + You told how Diomed, a whole week by days, + Did haunt you in the field. + +AENEAS Health to you, valiant sir, + During all question of the gentle truce; + But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance + As heart can think or courage execute. + +DIOMEDES The one and other Diomed embraces. + Our bloods are now in calm; and, so long, health! + But when contention and occasion meet, + By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life + With all my force, pursuit and policy. + +AENEAS And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly + With his face backward. In humane gentleness, + Welcome to Troy! now, by Anchises' life, + Welcome, indeed! By Venus' hand I swear, + No man alive can love in such a sort + The thing he means to kill more excellently. + +DIOMEDES We sympathize: Jove, let AEneas live, + If to my sword his fate be not the glory, + A thousand complete courses of the sun! + But, in mine emulous honour, let him die, + With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow! + +AENEAS We know each other well. + +DIOMEDES We do; and long to know each other worse. + +PARIS This is the most despiteful gentle greeting, + The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. + What business, lord, so early? + +AENEAS I was sent for to the king; but why, I know not. + +PARIS His purpose meets you: 'twas to bring this Greek + To Calchas' house, and there to render him, + For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid: + Let's have your company, or, if you please, + Haste there before us: I constantly do think-- + Or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge-- + My brother Troilus lodges there to-night: + Rouse him and give him note of our approach. + With the whole quality wherefore: I fear + We shall be much unwelcome. + +AENEAS That I assure you: + Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece + Than Cressid borne from Troy. + +PARIS There is no help; + The bitter disposition of the time + Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. + +AENEAS Good morrow, all. + + [Exit with Servant] + +PARIS And tell me, noble Diomed, faith, tell me true, + Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, + Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, + Myself or Menelaus? + +DIOMEDES Both alike: + He merits well to have her, that doth seek her, + Not making any scruple of her soilure, + With such a hell of pain and world of charge, + And you as well to keep her, that defend her, + Not palating the taste of her dishonour, + With such a costly loss of wealth and friends: + He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up + The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece; + You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins + Are pleased to breed out your inheritors: + Both merits poised, each weighs nor less nor more; + But he as he, the heavier for a whore. + +PARIS You are too bitter to your countrywoman. + +DIOMEDES She's bitter to her country: hear me, Paris: + For every false drop in her bawdy veins + A Grecian's life hath sunk; for every scruple + Of her contaminated carrion weight, + A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak, + She hath not given so many good words breath + As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death. + +PARIS Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do, + Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy: + But we in silence hold this virtue well, + We'll but commend what we intend to sell. + Here lies our way. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The same. Court of Pandarus' house. + + + [Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA] + +TROILUS Dear, trouble not yourself: the morn is cold. + +CRESSIDA Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle down; + He shall unbolt the gates. + +TROILUS Trouble him not; + To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes, + And give as soft attachment to thy senses + As infants' empty of all thought! + +CRESSIDA Good morrow, then. + +TROILUS I prithee now, to bed. + +CRESSIDA Are you a-weary of me? + +TROILUS O Cressida! but that the busy day, + Waked by the lark, hath roused the ribald crows, + And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, + I would not from thee. + +CRESSIDA Night hath been too brief. + +TROILUS Beshrew the witch! with venomous wights she stays + As tediously as hell, but flies the grasps of love + With wings more momentary-swift than thought. + You will catch cold, and curse me. + +CRESSIDA Prithee, tarry: + You men will never tarry. + O foolish Cressid! I might have still held off, + And then you would have tarried. Hark! + there's one up. + +PANDARUS [Within] What, 's all the doors open here? + +TROILUS It is your uncle. + +CRESSIDA A pestilence on him! now will he be mocking: + I shall have such a life! + + [Enter PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS How now, how now! how go maidenheads? Here, you + maid! where's my cousin Cressid? + +CRESSIDA Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle! + You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. + +PANDARUS To do what? to do what? let her say + what: what have I brought you to do? + +CRESSIDA Come, come, beshrew your heart! you'll ne'er be good, + Nor suffer others. + +PANDARUS Ha! ha! Alas, poor wretch! ah, poor capocchia! + hast not slept to-night? would he not, a naughty + man, let it sleep? a bugbear take him! + +CRESSIDA Did not I tell you? Would he were knock'd i' the head! + + [Knocking within] + + Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. + My lord, come you again into my chamber: + You smile and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. + +TROILUS Ha, ha! + +CRESSIDA Come, you are deceived, I think of no such thing. + + [Knocking within] + + How earnestly they knock! Pray you, come in: + I would not for half Troy have you seen here. + + [Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA] + +PANDARUS Who's there? what's the matter? will you beat + down the door? How now! what's the matter? + + [Enter AENEAS] + +AENEAS Good morrow, lord, good morrow. + +PANDARUS Who's there? my Lord AEneas! By my troth, + I knew you not: what news with you so early? + +AENEAS Is not Prince Troilus here? + +PANDARUS Here! what should he do here? + +AENEAS Come, he is here, my lord; do not deny him: + It doth import him much to speak with me. + +PANDARUS Is he here, say you? 'tis more than I know, I'll + be sworn: for my own part, I came in late. What + should he do here? + +AENEAS Who!--nay, then: come, come, you'll do him wrong + ere you're ware: you'll be so true to him, to be + false to him: do not you know of him, but yet go + fetch him hither; go. + + [Re-enter TROILUS] + +TROILUS How now! what's the matter? + +AENEAS My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you, + My matter is so rash: there is at hand + Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, + The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor + Deliver'd to us; and for him forthwith, + Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour, + We must give up to Diomedes' hand + The Lady Cressida. + +TROILUS Is it so concluded? + +AENEAS By Priam and the general state of Troy: + They are at hand and ready to effect it. + +TROILUS How my achievements mock me! + I will go meet them: and, my Lord AEneas, + We met by chance; you did not find me here. + +AENEAS Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature + Have not more gift in taciturnity. + + [Exeunt TROILUS and AENEAS] + +PANDARUS Is't possible? no sooner got but lost? The devil + take Antenor! the young prince will go mad: a + plague upon Antenor! I would they had broke 's neck! + + [Re-enter CRESSIDA] + +CRESSIDA How now! what's the matter? who was here? + +PANDARUS Ah, ah! + +CRESSIDA Why sigh you so profoundly? where's my lord? gone! + Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? + +PANDARUS Would I were as deep under the earth as I am above! + +CRESSIDA O the gods! what's the matter? + +PANDARUS Prithee, get thee in: would thou hadst ne'er been + born! I knew thou wouldst be his death. O, poor + gentleman! A plague upon Antenor! + +CRESSIDA Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees! beseech you, + what's the matter? + +PANDARUS Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be gone; thou + art changed for Antenor: thou must to thy father, + and be gone from Troilus: 'twill be his death; + 'twill be his bane; he cannot bear it. + +CRESSIDA O you immortal gods! I will not go. + +PANDARUS Thou must. + +CRESSIDA I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; + I know no touch of consanguinity; + No kin no love, no blood, no soul so near me + As the sweet Troilus. O you gods divine! + Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood, + If ever she leave Troilus! Time, force, and death, + Do to this body what extremes you can; + But the strong base and building of my love + Is as the very centre of the earth, + Drawing all things to it. I'll go in and weep,-- + +PANDARUS Do, do. + +CRESSIDA Tear my bright hair and scratch my praised cheeks, + Crack my clear voice with sobs and break my heart + With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. Street before Pandarus' house. + + + [Enter PARIS, TROILUS, AENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTENOR, + and DIOMEDES] + +PARIS It is great morning, and the hour prefix'd + Of her delivery to this valiant Greek + Comes fast upon. Good my brother Troilus, + Tell you the lady what she is to do, + And haste her to the purpose. + +TROILUS Walk into her house; + I'll bring her to the Grecian presently: + And to his hand when I deliver her, + Think it an altar, and thy brother Troilus + A priest there offering to it his own heart. + + [Exit] + +PARIS I know what 'tis to love; + And would, as I shall pity, I could help! + Please you walk in, my lords. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The same. Pandarus' house. + + + [Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA] + +PANDARUS Be moderate, be moderate. + +CRESSIDA Why tell you me of moderation? + The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, + And violenteth in a sense as strong + As that which causeth it: how can I moderate it? + If I could temporize with my affection, + Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, + The like allayment could I give my grief. + My love admits no qualifying dross; + No more my grief, in such a precious loss. + +PANDARUS Here, here, here he comes. + + [Enter TROILUS] + + Ah, sweet ducks! + +CRESSIDA O Troilus! Troilus! + + [Embracing him] + +PANDARUS What a pair of spectacles is here! + Let me embrace too. 'O heart,' as the goodly saying is, + '--O heart, heavy heart, + Why sigh'st thou without breaking? + where he answers again, + 'Because thou canst not ease thy smart + By friendship nor by speaking.' + There was never a truer rhyme. Let us cast away + nothing, for we may live to have need of such a + verse: we see it, we see it. How now, lambs? + +TROILUS Cressid, I love thee in so strain'd a purity, + That the bless'd gods, as angry with my fancy, + More bright in zeal than the devotion which + Cold lips blow to their deities, take thee from me. + +CRESSIDA Have the gods envy? + +PANDARUS Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. + +CRESSIDA And is it true that I must go from Troy? + +TROILUS A hateful truth. + +CRESSIDA What, and from Troilus too? + +TROILUS From Troy and Troilus. + +CRESSIDA Is it possible? + +TROILUS And suddenly; where injury of chance + Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by + All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips + Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents + Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows + Even in the birth of our own labouring breath: + We two, that with so many thousand sighs + Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves + With the rude brevity and discharge of one. + Injurious time now with a robber's haste + Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how: + As many farewells as be stars in heaven, + With distinct breath and consign'd kisses to them, + He fumbles up into a lose adieu, + And scants us with a single famish'd kiss, + Distasted with the salt of broken tears. + +AENEAS [Within] My lord, is the lady ready? + +TROILUS Hark! you are call'd: some say the Genius so + Cries 'come' to him that instantly must die. + Bid them have patience; she shall come anon. + +PANDARUS Where are my tears? rain, to lay this wind, or + my heart will be blown up by the root. + + [Exit] + +CRESSIDA I must then to the Grecians? + +TROILUS No remedy. + +CRESSIDA A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks! + When shall we see again? + +TROILUS Hear me, my love: be thou but true of heart,-- + +CRESSIDA I true! how now! what wicked deem is this? + +TROILUS Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, + For it is parting from us: + I speak not 'be thou true,' as fearing thee, + For I will throw my glove to Death himself, + That there's no maculation in thy heart: + But 'be thou true,' say I, to fashion in + My sequent protestation; be thou true, + And I will see thee. + +CRESSIDA O, you shall be exposed, my lord, to dangers + As infinite as imminent! but I'll be true. + +TROILUS And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear this sleeve. + +CRESSIDA And you this glove. When shall I see you? + +TROILUS I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels, + To give thee nightly visitation. + But yet be true. + +CRESSIDA O heavens! 'be true' again! + +TROILUS Hear while I speak it, love: + The Grecian youths are full of quality; + They're loving, well composed with gifts of nature, + Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise: + How novelty may move, and parts with person, + Alas, a kind of godly jealousy-- + Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin-- + Makes me afeard. + +CRESSIDA O heavens! you love me not. + +TROILUS Die I a villain, then! + In this I do not call your faith in question + So mainly as my merit: I cannot sing, + Nor heel the high lavolt, nor sweeten talk, + Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, + To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant: + But I can tell that in each grace of these + There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil + That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted. + +CRESSIDA Do you think I will? + +TROILUS No. + But something may be done that we will not: + And sometimes we are devils to ourselves, + When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, + Presuming on their changeful potency. + +AENEAS [Within] Nay, good my lord,-- + +TROILUS Come, kiss; and let us part. + +PARIS [Within] Brother Troilus! + +TROILUS Good brother, come you hither; + And bring AEneas and the Grecian with you. + +CRESSIDA My lord, will you be true? + +TROILUS Who, I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: + Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion, + I with great truth catch mere simplicity; + Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns, + With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. + Fear not my truth: the moral of my wit + Is 'plain and true;' there's all the reach of it. + + [Enter AENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, + and DIOMEDES] + + Welcome, Sir Diomed! here is the lady + Which for Antenor we deliver you: + At the port, lord, I'll give her to thy hand, + And by the way possess thee what she is. + Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, + If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword, + Name Cressida and thy life shall be as safe + As Priam is in Ilion. + +DIOMEDES Fair Lady Cressid, + So please you, save the thanks this prince expects: + The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek, + Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed + You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. + +TROILUS Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously, + To shame the zeal of my petition to thee + In praising her: I tell thee, lord of Greece, + She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises + As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. + I charge thee use her well, even for my charge; + For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, + Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, + I'll cut thy throat. + +DIOMEDES O, be not moved, Prince Troilus: + Let me be privileged by my place and message, + To be a speaker free; when I am hence + I'll answer to my lust: and know you, lord, + I'll nothing do on charge: to her own worth + She shall be prized; but that you say 'be't so,' + I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, 'no.' + +TROILUS Come, to the port. I'll tell thee, Diomed, + This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. + Lady, give me your hand, and, as we walk, + To our own selves bend we our needful talk. + + [Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMEDES] + + [Trumpet within] + +PARIS Hark! Hector's trumpet. + +AENEAS How have we spent this morning! + The prince must think me tardy and remiss, + That sore to ride before him to the field. + +PARIS 'Tis Troilus' fault: come, come, to field with him. + +DEIPHOBUS Let us make ready straight. + +AENEAS Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity, + Let us address to tend on Hector's heels: + The glory of our Troy doth this day lie + On his fair worth and single chivalry. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V The Grecian camp. Lists set out. + + + [Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PATROCLUS, + MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and others] + +AGAMEMNON Here art thou in appointment fresh and fair, + Anticipating time with starting courage. + Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, + Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air + May pierce the head of the great combatant + And hale him hither. + +AJAX Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. + Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: + Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek + Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon: + Come, stretch thy chest and let thy eyes spout blood; + Thou blow'st for Hector. + + [Trumpet sounds] + +ULYSSES No trumpet answers. + +ACHILLES 'Tis but early days. + +AGAMEMNON Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter? + +ULYSSES 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; + He rises on the toe: that spirit of his + In aspiration lifts him from the earth. + + [Enter DIOMEDES, with CRESSIDA] + +AGAMEMNON Is this the Lady Cressid? + +DIOMEDES Even she. + +AGAMEMNON Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet lady. + +NESTOR Our general doth salute you with a kiss. + +ULYSSES Yet is the kindness but particular; + 'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. + +NESTOR And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. + So much for Nestor. + +ACHILLES I'll take what winter from your lips, fair lady: + Achilles bids you welcome. + +MENELAUS I had good argument for kissing once. + +PATROCLUS But that's no argument for kissing now; + For this popp'd Paris in his hardiment, + And parted thus you and your argument. + +ULYSSES O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns! + For which we lose our heads to gild his horns. + +PATROCLUS The first was Menelaus' kiss; this, mine: + Patroclus kisses you. + +MENELAUS O, this is trim! + +PATROCLUS Paris and I kiss evermore for him. + +MENELAUS I'll have my kiss, sir. Lady, by your leave. + +CRESSIDA In kissing, do you render or receive? + +PATROCLUS Both take and give. + +CRESSIDA I'll make my match to live, + The kiss you take is better than you give; + Therefore no kiss. + +MENELAUS I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. + +CRESSIDA You're an odd man; give even or give none. + +MENELAUS An odd man, lady! every man is odd. + +CRESSIDA No, Paris is not; for you know 'tis true, + That you are odd, and he is even with you. + +MENELAUS You fillip me o' the head. + +CRESSIDA No, I'll be sworn. + +ULYSSES It were no match, your nail against his horn. + May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you? + +CRESSIDA You may. + +ULYSSES I do desire it. + +CRESSIDA Why, beg, then. + +ULYSSES Why then for Venus' sake, give me a kiss, + When Helen is a maid again, and his. + +CRESSIDA I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. + +ULYSSES Never's my day, and then a kiss of you. + +DIOMEDES Lady, a word: I'll bring you to your father. + + [Exit with CRESSIDA] + +NESTOR A woman of quick sense. + +ULYSSES Fie, fie upon her! + There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, + Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out + At every joint and motive of her body. + O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, + That give accosting welcome ere it comes, + And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts + To every ticklish reader! set them down + For sluttish spoils of opportunity + And daughters of the game. + + [Trumpet within] + +ALL The Trojans' trumpet. + +AGAMEMNON Yonder comes the troop. + + [Enter HECTOR, armed; AENEAS, TROILUS, and other + Trojans, with Attendants] + +AENEAS Hail, all you state of Greece! what shall be done + To him that victory commands? or do you purpose + A victor shall be known? will you the knights + Shall to the edge of all extremity + Pursue each other, or shall be divided + By any voice or order of the field? + Hector bade ask. + +AGAMEMNON Which way would Hector have it? + +AENEAS He cares not; he'll obey conditions. + +ACHILLES 'Tis done like Hector; but securely done, + A little proudly, and great deal misprizing + The knight opposed. + +AENEAS If not Achilles, sir, + What is your name? + +ACHILLES If not Achilles, nothing. + +AENEAS Therefore Achilles: but, whate'er, know this: + In the extremity of great and little, + Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector; + The one almost as infinite as all, + The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, + And that which looks like pride is courtesy. + This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood: + In love whereof, half Hector stays at home; + Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek + This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek. + +ACHILLES A maiden battle, then? O, I perceive you. + + [Re-enter DIOMEDES] + +AGAMEMNON Here is Sir Diomed. Go, gentle knight, + Stand by our Ajax: as you and Lord AEneas + Consent upon the order of their fight, + So be it; either to the uttermost, + Or else a breath: the combatants being kin + Half stints their strife before their strokes begin. + + [AJAX and HECTOR enter the lists] + +ULYSSES They are opposed already. + +AGAMEMNON What Trojan is that same that looks so heavy? + +ULYSSES The youngest son of Priam, a true knight, + Not yet mature, yet matchless, firm of word, + Speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue; + Not soon provoked nor being provoked soon calm'd: + His heart and hand both open and both free; + For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; + Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty, + Nor dignifies an impure thought with breath; + Manly as Hector, but more dangerous; + For Hector in his blaze of wrath subscribes + To tender objects, but he in heat of action + Is more vindicative than jealous love: + They call him Troilus, and on him erect + A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. + Thus says AEneas; one that knows the youth + Even to his inches, and with private soul + Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me. + + [Alarum. Hector and Ajax fight] + +AGAMEMNON They are in action. + +NESTOR Now, Ajax, hold thine own! + +TROILUS Hector, thou sleep'st; + Awake thee! + +AGAMEMNON His blows are well disposed: there, Ajax! + +DIOMEDES You must no more. + + [Trumpets cease] + +AENEAS Princes, enough, so please you. + +AJAX I am not warm yet; let us fight again. + +DIOMEDES As Hector pleases. + +HECTOR Why, then will I no more: + Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, + A cousin-german to great Priam's seed; + The obligation of our blood forbids + A gory emulation 'twixt us twain: + Were thy commixtion Greek and Trojan so + That thou couldst say 'This hand is Grecian all, + And this is Trojan; the sinews of this leg + All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother's blood + Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister + Bounds in my father's;' by Jove multipotent, + Thou shouldst not bear from me a Greekish member + Wherein my sword had not impressure made + Of our rank feud: but the just gods gainsay + That any drop thou borrow'dst from thy mother, + My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword + Be drain'd! Let me embrace thee, Ajax: + By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms; + Hector would have them fall upon him thus: + Cousin, all honour to thee! + +AJAX I thank thee, Hector + Thou art too gentle and too free a man: + I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence + A great addition earned in thy death. + +HECTOR Not Neoptolemus so mirable, + On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st Oyes + Cries 'This is he,' could promise to himself + A thought of added honour torn from Hector. + +AENEAS There is expectance here from both the sides, + What further you will do. + +HECTOR We'll answer it; + The issue is embracement: Ajax, farewell. + +AJAX If I might in entreaties find success-- + As seld I have the chance--I would desire + My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. + +DIOMEDES 'Tis Agamemnon's wish, and great Achilles + Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. + +HECTOR AEneas, call my brother Troilus to me, + And signify this loving interview + To the expecters of our Trojan part; + Desire them home. Give me thy hand, my cousin; + I will go eat with thee and see your knights. + +AJAX Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here. + +HECTOR The worthiest of them tell me name by name; + But for Achilles, mine own searching eyes + Shall find him by his large and portly size. + +AGAMEMNON Worthy of arms! as welcome as to one + That would be rid of such an enemy; + But that's no welcome: understand more clear, + What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks + And formless ruin of oblivion; + But in this extant moment, faith and troth, + Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing, + Bids thee, with most divine integrity, + From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome. + +HECTOR I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon. + +AGAMEMNON [To TROILUS] My well-famed lord of Troy, no + less to you. + +MENELAUS Let me confirm my princely brother's greeting: + You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. + +HECTOR Who must we answer? + +AENEAS The noble Menelaus. + +HECTOR O, you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, thanks! + Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath; + Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove: + She's well, but bade me not commend her to you. + +MENELAUS Name her not now, sir; she's a deadly theme. + +HECTOR O, pardon; I offend. + +NESTOR I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft + Labouring for destiny make cruel way + Through ranks of Greekish youth, and I have seen thee, + As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, + Despising many forfeits and subduements, + When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i' the air, + Not letting it decline on the declined, + That I have said to some my standers by + 'Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life!' + And I have seen thee pause and take thy breath, + When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, + Like an Olympian wrestling: this have I seen; + But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, + I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire, + And once fought with him: he was a soldier good; + But, by great Mars, the captain of us all, + Never saw like thee. Let an old man embrace thee; + And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. + +AENEAS 'Tis the old Nestor. + +HECTOR Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle, + That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time: + Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. + +NESTOR I would my arms could match thee in contention, + As they contend with thee in courtesy. + +HECTOR I would they could. + +NESTOR Ha! + By this white beard, I'ld fight with thee to-morrow. + Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the time. + +ULYSSES I wonder now how yonder city stands + When we have here her base and pillar by us. + +HECTOR I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. + Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, + Since first I saw yourself and Diomed + In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. + +ULYSSES Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue: + My prophecy is but half his journey yet; + For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, + Yond towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, + Must kiss their own feet. + +HECTOR I must not believe you: + There they stand yet, and modestly I think, + The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost + A drop of Grecian blood: the end crowns all, + And that old common arbitrator, Time, + Will one day end it. + +ULYSSES So to him we leave it. + Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome: + After the general, I beseech you next + To feast with me and see me at my tent. + +ACHILLES I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, thou! + Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee; + I have with exact view perused thee, Hector, + And quoted joint by joint. + +HECTOR Is this Achilles? + +ACHILLES I am Achilles. + +HECTOR Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. + +ACHILLES Behold thy fill. + +HECTOR Nay, I have done already. + +ACHILLES Thou art too brief: I will the second time, + As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. + +HECTOR O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er; + But there's more in me than thou understand'st. + Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye? + +ACHILLES Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body + Shall I destroy him? whether there, or there, or there? + That I may give the local wound a name + And make distinct the very breach whereout + Hector's great spirit flew: answer me, heavens! + +HECTOR It would discredit the blest gods, proud man, + To answer such a question: stand again: + Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly + As to prenominate in nice conjecture + Where thou wilt hit me dead? + +ACHILLES I tell thee, yea. + +HECTOR Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, + I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well; + For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there; + But, by the forge that stithied Mars his helm, + I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. + You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag; + His insolence draws folly from my lips; + But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words, + Or may I never-- + +AJAX Do not chafe thee, cousin: + And you, Achilles, let these threats alone, + Till accident or purpose bring you to't: + You may have every day enough of Hector + If you have stomach; the general state, I fear, + Can scarce entreat you to be odd with him. + +HECTOR I pray you, let us see you in the field: + We have had pelting wars, since you refused + The Grecians' cause. + +ACHILLES Dost thou entreat me, Hector? + To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death; + To-night all friends. + +HECTOR Thy hand upon that match. + +AGAMEMNON First, all you peers of Greece, go to my tent; + There in the full convive we: afterwards, + As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall + Concur together, severally entreat him. + Beat loud the tabourines, let the trumpets blow, + That this great soldier may his welcome know. + + [Exeunt all except TROILUS and ULYSSES] + +TROILUS My Lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you, + In what place of the field doth Calchas keep? + +ULYSSES At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus: + There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; + Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth, + But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view + On the fair Cressid. + +TROILUS Shall sweet lord, be bound to you so much, + After we part from Agamemnon's tent, + To bring me thither? + +ULYSSES You shall command me, sir. + As gentle tell me, of what honour was + This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lover there + That wails her absence? + + +TROILUS O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars + A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? + She was beloved, she loved; she is, and doth: + But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The Grecian camp. Before Achilles' tent. + + + [Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] + +ACHILLES I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-night, + Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. + Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. + +PATROCLUS Here comes Thersites. + + [Enter THERSITES] + +ACHILLES How now, thou core of envy! + Thou crusty batch of nature, what's the news? + +THERSITES Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, and idol + of idiot worshippers, here's a letter for thee. + +ACHILLES From whence, fragment? + +THERSITES Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. + +PATROCLUS Who keeps the tent now? + +THERSITES The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. + +PATROCLUS Well said, adversity! and what need these tricks? + +THERSITES Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: + thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet. + +PATROCLUS Male varlet, you rogue! what's that? + +THERSITES Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases + of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, + loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold + palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing + lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, + limekilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the + rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take + again such preposterous discoveries! + +PATROCLUS Why thou damnable box of envy, thou, what meanest + thou to curse thus? + +THERSITES Do I curse thee? + +PATROCLUS Why no, you ruinous butt, you whoreson + indistinguishable cur, no. + +THERSITES No! why art thou then exasperate, thou idle + immaterial skein of sleave-silk, thou green sarcenet + flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodigal's + purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pestered + with such waterflies, diminutives of nature! + +PATROCLUS Out, gall! + +THERSITES Finch-egg! + +ACHILLES My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite + From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. + Here is a letter from Queen Hecuba, + A token from her daughter, my fair love, + Both taxing me and gaging me to keep + An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: + Fall Greeks; fail fame; honour or go or stay; + My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. + Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent: + This night in banqueting must all be spent. + Away, Patroclus! + + [Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS] + +THERSITES With too much blood and too little brain, these two + may run mad; but, if with too much brain and too + little blood they do, I'll be a curer of madmen. + Here's Agamemnon, an honest fellow enough and one + that loves quails; but he has not so much brain as + earwax: and the goodly transformation of Jupiter + there, his brother, the bull,--the primitive statue, + and oblique memorial of cuckolds; a thrifty + shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's + leg,--to what form but that he is, should wit larded + with malice and malice forced with wit turn him to? + To an ass, were nothing; he is both ass and ox: to + an ox, were nothing; he is both ox and ass. To be a + dog, a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an + owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would + not care; but to be Menelaus, I would conspire + against destiny. Ask me not, what I would be, if I + were not Thersites; for I care not to be the louse + of a lazar, so I were not Menelaus! Hey-day! + spirits and fires! + + [Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, + NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMEDES, with lights] + +AGAMEMNON We go wrong, we go wrong. + +AJAX No, yonder 'tis; + There, where we see the lights. + +HECTOR I trouble you. + +AJAX No, not a whit. + +ULYSSES Here comes himself to guide you. + + [Re-enter ACHILLES] + +ACHILLES Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes all. + +AGAMEMNON So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good night. + Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. + +HECTOR Thanks and good night to the Greeks' general. + +MENELAUS Good night, my lord. + +HECTOR Good night, sweet lord Menelaus. + +THERSITES Sweet draught: 'sweet' quoth 'a! sweet sink, + sweet sewer. + +ACHILLES Good night and welcome, both at once, to those + That go or tarry. + +AGAMEMNON Good night. + + [Exeunt AGAMEMNON and MENELAUS] + +ACHILLES Old Nestor tarries; and you too, Diomed, + Keep Hector company an hour or two. + +DIOMEDES I cannot, lord; I have important business, + The tide whereof is now. Good night, great Hector. + +HECTOR Give me your hand. + +ULYSSES [Aside to TROILUS] Follow his torch; he goes to + Calchas' tent: + I'll keep you company. + +TROILUS Sweet sir, you honour me. + +HECTOR And so, good night. + + [Exit DIOMEDES; ULYSSES and TROILUS following] + +ACHILLES Come, come, enter my tent. + + [Exeunt ACHILLES, HECTOR, AJAX, and NESTOR] + +THERSITES That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, a most + unjust knave; I will no more trust him when he leers + than I will a serpent when he hisses: he will spend + his mouth, and promise, like Brabbler the hound: + but when he performs, astronomers foretell it; it + is prodigious, there will come some change; the sun + borrows of the moon, when Diomed keeps his + word. I will rather leave to see Hector, than + not to dog him: they say he keeps a Trojan + drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: I'll + after. Nothing but lechery! all incontinent varlets! + + [Exit] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The same. Before Calchas' tent. + + + [Enter DIOMEDES] + +DIOMEDES What, are you up here, ho? speak. + +CALCHAS [Within] Who calls? + +DIOMEDES Calchas, I think. Where's your daughter? + +CALCHAS [Within] She comes to you. + + [Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a distance; + after them, THERSITES] + +ULYSSES Stand where the torch may not discover us. + + [Enter CRESSIDA] + +TROILUS Cressid comes forth to him. + +DIOMEDES How now, my charge! + +CRESSIDA Now, my sweet guardian! Hark, a word with you. + + [Whispers] + +TROILUS Yea, so familiar! + +ULYSSES She will sing any man at first sight. + +THERSITES And any man may sing her, if he can take her cliff; + she's noted. + +DIOMEDES Will you remember? + +CRESSIDA Remember! yes. + +DIOMEDES Nay, but do, then; + And let your mind be coupled with your words. + +TROILUS What should she remember? + +ULYSSES List. + +CRESSIDA Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no more to folly. + +THERSITES Roguery! + +DIOMEDES Nay, then,-- + +CRESSIDA I'll tell you what,-- + +DIOMEDES Foh, foh! come, tell a pin: you are forsworn. + +CRESSIDA In faith, I cannot: what would you have me do? + +THERSITES A juggling trick,--to be secretly open. + +DIOMEDES What did you swear you would bestow on me? + +CRESSIDA I prithee, do not hold me to mine oath; + Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. + +DIOMEDES Good night. + +TROILUS Hold, patience! + +ULYSSES How now, Trojan! + +CRESSIDA Diomed,-- + +DIOMEDES No, no, good night: I'll be your fool no more. + +TROILUS Thy better must. + +CRESSIDA Hark, one word in your ear. + +TROILUS O plague and madness! + +ULYSSES You are moved, prince; let us depart, I pray you, + Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself + To wrathful terms: this place is dangerous; + The time right deadly; I beseech you, go. + +TROILUS Behold, I pray you! + +ULYSSES Nay, good my lord, go off: + You flow to great distraction; come, my lord. + +TROILUS I pray thee, stay. + +ULYSSES You have not patience; come. + +TROILUS I pray you, stay; by hell and all hell's torments + I will not speak a word! + +DIOMEDES And so, good night. + +CRESSIDA Nay, but you part in anger. + +TROILUS Doth that grieve thee? + O wither'd truth! + +ULYSSES Why, how now, lord! + +TROILUS By Jove, + I will be patient. + +CRESSIDA Guardian!--why, Greek! + +DIOMEDES Foh, foh! adieu; you palter. + +CRESSIDA In faith, I do not: come hither once again. + +ULYSSES You shake, my lord, at something: will you go? + You will break out. + +TROILUS She strokes his cheek! + +ULYSSES Come, come. + +TROILUS Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word: + There is between my will and all offences + A guard of patience: stay a little while. + +THERSITES How the devil Luxury, with his fat rump and + potato-finger, tickles these together! Fry, lechery, fry! + +DIOMEDES But will you, then? + +CRESSIDA In faith, I will, la; never trust me else. + +DIOMEDES Give me some token for the surety of it. + +CRESSIDA I'll fetch you one. + + [Exit] + +ULYSSES You have sworn patience. + +TROILUS Fear me not, sweet lord; + I will not be myself, nor have cognition + Of what I feel: I am all patience. + + [Re-enter CRESSIDA] + +THERSITES Now the pledge; now, now, now! + +CRESSIDA Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve. + +TROILUS O beauty! where is thy faith? + +ULYSSES My lord,-- + +TROILUS I will be patient; outwardly I will. + +CRESSIDA You look upon that sleeve; behold it well. + He loved me--O false wench!--Give't me again. + +DIOMEDES Whose was't? + +CRESSIDA It is no matter, now I have't again. + I will not meet with you to-morrow night: + I prithee, Diomed, visit me no more. + +THERSITES Now she sharpens: well said, whetstone! + +DIOMEDES I shall have it. + +CRESSIDA What, this? + +DIOMEDES Ay, that. + +CRESSIDA O, all you gods! O pretty, pretty pledge! + Thy master now lies thinking in his bed + Of thee and me, and sighs, and takes my glove, + And gives memorial dainty kisses to it, + As I kiss thee. Nay, do not snatch it from me; + He that takes that doth take my heart withal. + +DIOMEDES I had your heart before, this follows it. + +TROILUS I did swear patience. + +CRESSIDA You shall not have it, Diomed; faith, you shall not; + I'll give you something else. + +DIOMEDES I will have this: whose was it? + +CRESSIDA It is no matter. + +DIOMEDES Come, tell me whose it was. + +CRESSIDA 'Twas one's that loved me better than you will. + But, now you have it, take it. + +DIOMEDES Whose was it? + +CRESSIDA By all Diana's waiting-women yond, + And by herself, I will not tell you whose. + +DIOMEDES To-morrow will I wear it on my helm, + And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. + +TROILUS Wert thou the devil, and worest it on thy horn, + It should be challenged. + +CRESSIDA Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past: and yet it is not; + I will not keep my word. + +DIOMEDES Why, then, farewell; + Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. + +CRESSIDA You shall not go: one cannot speak a word, + But it straight starts you. + +DIOMEDES I do not like this fooling. + +THERSITES Nor I, by Pluto: but that that likes not you pleases me best. + +DIOMEDES What, shall I come? the hour? + +CRESSIDA Ay, come:--O Jove!--do come:--I shall be plagued. + +DIOMEDES Farewell till then. + +CRESSIDA Good night: I prithee, come. + + [Exit DIOMEDES] + + Troilus, farewell! one eye yet looks on thee + But with my heart the other eye doth see. + Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find, + The error of our eye directs our mind: + What error leads must err; O, then conclude + Minds sway'd by eyes are full of turpitude. + + [Exit] + +THERSITES A proof of strength she could not publish more, + Unless she said ' My mind is now turn'd whore.' + +ULYSSES All's done, my lord. + +TROILUS It is. + +ULYSSES Why stay we, then? + +TROILUS To make a recordation to my soul + Of every syllable that here was spoke. + But if I tell how these two did co-act, + Shall I not lie in publishing a truth? + Sith yet there is a credence in my heart, + An esperance so obstinately strong, + That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears, + As if those organs had deceptious functions, + Created only to calumniate. + Was Cressid here? + +ULYSSES I cannot conjure, Trojan. + +TROILUS She was not, sure. + +ULYSSES Most sure she was. + +TROILUS Why, my negation hath no taste of madness. + +ULYSSES Nor mine, my lord: Cressid was here but now. + +TROILUS Let it not be believed for womanhood! + Think, we had mothers; do not give advantage + To stubborn critics, apt, without a theme, + For depravation, to square the general sex + By Cressid's rule: rather think this not Cressid. + +ULYSSES What hath she done, prince, that can soil our mothers? + +TROILUS Nothing at all, unless that this were she. + +THERSITES Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes? + +TROILUS This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida: + If beauty have a soul, this is not she; + If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies, + If sanctimony be the gods' delight, + If there be rule in unity itself, + This is not she. O madness of discourse, + That cause sets up with and against itself! + Bi-fold authority! where reason can revolt + Without perdition, and loss assume all reason + Without revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid. + Within my soul there doth conduce a fight + Of this strange nature that a thing inseparate + Divides more wider than the sky and earth, + And yet the spacious breadth of this division + Admits no orifex for a point as subtle + As Ariachne's broken woof to enter. + Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates; + Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven: + Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself; + The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolved, and loosed; + And with another knot, five-finger-tied, + The fractions of her faith, orts of her love, + The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy relics + Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. + +ULYSSES May worthy Troilus be half attach'd + With that which here his passion doth express? + +TROILUS Ay, Greek; and that shall be divulged well + In characters as red as Mars his heart + Inflamed with Venus: never did young man fancy + With so eternal and so fix'd a soul. + Hark, Greek: as much as I do Cressid love, + So much by weight hate I her Diomed: + That sleeve is mine that he'll bear on his helm; + Were it a casque composed by Vulcan's skill, + My sword should bite it: not the dreadful spout + Which shipmen do the hurricano call, + Constringed in mass by the almighty sun, + Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear + In his descent than shall my prompted sword + Falling on Diomed. + +THERSITES He'll tickle it for his concupy. + +TROILUS O Cressid! O false Cressid! false, false, false! + Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, + And they'll seem glorious. + +ULYSSES O, contain yourself + Your passion draws ears hither. + + [Enter AENEAS] + +AENEAS I have been seeking you this hour, my lord: + Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; + Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. + + +TROILUS Have with you, prince. My courteous lord, adieu. + Farewell, revolted fair! and, Diomed, + Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head! + +ULYSSES I'll bring you to the gates. + +TROILUS Accept distracted thanks. + + [Exeunt TROILUS, AENEAS, and ULYSSES] + +THERSITES Would I could meet that rogue Diomed! I would + croak like a raven; I would bode, I would bode. + Patroclus will give me any thing for the + intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not + do more for an almond than he for a commodious drab. + Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; nothing + else holds fashion: a burning devil take them! + + [Exit] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Troy. Before Priam's palace. + + + [Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE] + +ANDROMACHE When was my lord so much ungently temper'd, + To stop his ears against admonishment? + Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. + +HECTOR You train me to offend you; get you in: + By all the everlasting gods, I'll go! + +ANDROMACHE My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to the day. + +HECTOR No more, I say. + + [Enter CASSANDRA] + +CASSANDRA Where is my brother Hector? + +ANDROMACHE Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent. + Consort with me in loud and dear petition, + Pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd + Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night + Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. + +CASSANDRA O, 'tis true. + +HECTOR Ho! bid my trumpet sound! + +CASSANDRA No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother. + +HECTOR Be gone, I say: the gods have heard me swear. + +CASSANDRA The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows: + They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd + Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. + +ANDROMACHE O, be persuaded! do not count it holy + To hurt by being just: it is as lawful, + For we would give much, to use violent thefts, + And rob in the behalf of charity. + +CASSANDRA It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; + But vows to every purpose must not hold: + Unarm, sweet Hector. + +HECTOR Hold you still, I say; + Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate: + Lie every man holds dear; but the brave man + Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. + + [Enter TROILUS] + + How now, young man! mean'st thou to fight to-day? + +ANDROMACHE Cassandra, call my father to persuade. + + [Exit CASSANDRA] + +HECTOR No, faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness, youth; + I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry: + Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong, + And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. + Unarm thee, go, and doubt thou not, brave boy, + I'll stand to-day for thee and me and Troy. + +TROILUS Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you, + Which better fits a lion than a man. + +HECTOR What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me for it. + +TROILUS When many times the captive Grecian falls, + Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword, + You bid them rise, and live. + +HECTOR O,'tis fair play. + +TROILUS Fool's play, by heaven, Hector. + +HECTOR How now! how now! + +TROILUS For the love of all the gods, + Let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers, + And when we have our armours buckled on, + The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords, + Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth. + +HECTOR Fie, savage, fie! + +TROILUS Hector, then 'tis wars. + +HECTOR Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. + +TROILUS Who should withhold me? + Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars + Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; + Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees, + Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears; + Not you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, + Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way, + But by my ruin. + + [Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM] + +CASSANDRA Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast: + He is thy crutch; now if thou lose thy stay, + Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee, + Fall all together. + +PRIAM Come, Hector, come, go back: + Thy wife hath dream'd; thy mother hath had visions; + Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself + Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt + To tell thee that this day is ominous: + Therefore, come back. + +HECTOR AEneas is a-field; + And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, + Even in the faith of valour, to appear + This morning to them. + +PRIAM Ay, but thou shalt not go. + +HECTOR I must not break my faith. + You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, + Let me not shame respect; but give me leave + To take that course by your consent and voice, + Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam. + +CASSANDRA O Priam, yield not to him! + +ANDROMACHE Do not, dear father. + +HECTOR Andromache, I am offended with you: + Upon the love you bear me, get you in. + + [Exit ANDROMACHE] + +TROILUS This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl + Makes all these bodements. + +CASSANDRA O, farewell, dear Hector! + Look, how thou diest! look, how thy eye turns pale! + Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents! + Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out! + How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth! + Behold, distraction, frenzy and amazement, + Like witless antics, one another meet, + And all cry, Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! + +TROILUS Away! away! + +CASSANDRA Farewell: yet, soft! Hector! take my leave: + Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. + + [Exit] + +HECTOR You are amazed, my liege, at her exclaim: + Go in and cheer the town: we'll forth and fight, + Do deeds worth praise and tell you them at night. + +PRIAM Farewell: the gods with safety stand about thee! + + [Exeunt severally PRIAM and HECTOR. Alarums] + +TROILUS They are at it, hark! Proud Diomed, believe, + I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. + + [Enter PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS Do you hear, my lord? do you hear? + +TROILUS What now? + +PANDARUS Here's a letter come from yond poor girl. + +TROILUS Let me read. + +PANDARUS A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally tisick so + troubles me, and the foolish fortune of this girl; + and what one thing, what another, that I shall + leave you one o' these days: and I have a rheum + in mine eyes too, and such an ache in my bones + that, unless a man were cursed, I cannot tell what + to think on't. What says she there? + +TROILUS Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart: + The effect doth operate another way. + + [Tearing the letter] + + Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. + My love with words and errors still she feeds; + But edifies another with her deeds. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Plains between Troy and the Grecian camp. + + + [Alarums: excursions. Enter THERSITES] + +THERSITES Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I'll go + look on. That dissembling abominable varlets Diomed, + has got that same scurvy doting foolish young knave's + sleeve of Troy there in his helm: I would fain see + them meet; that that same young Trojan ass, that + loves the whore there, might send that Greekish + whore-masterly villain, with the sleeve, back to the + dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeveless errand. + O' the t'other side, the policy of those crafty + swearing rascals, that stale old mouse-eaten dry + cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox, Ulysses, is + not proved worthy a blackberry: they set me up, in + policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog of + as bad a kind, Achilles: and now is the cur Ajax + prouder than the cur Achilles, and will not arm + to-day; whereupon the Grecians begin to proclaim + barbarism, and policy grows into an ill opinion. + Soft! here comes sleeve, and t'other. + + [Enter DIOMEDES, TROILUS following] + +TROILUS Fly not; for shouldst thou take the river Styx, + I would swim after. + +DIOMEDES Thou dost miscall retire: + I do not fly, but advantageous care + Withdrew me from the odds of multitude: + Have at thee! + +THERSITES Hold thy whore, Grecian!--now for thy whore, + Trojan!--now the sleeve, now the sleeve! + + [Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES, fighting] + + [Enter HECTOR] + +HECTOR What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hector's match? + Art thou of blood and honour? + +THERSITES No, no, I am a rascal; a scurvy railing knave: + a very filthy rogue. + +HECTOR I do believe thee: live. + + [Exit] + +THERSITES God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; but a + plague break thy neck for frightening me! What's + become of the wenching rogues? I think they have + swallowed one another: I would laugh at that + miracle: yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. + I'll seek them. + + [Exit] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant] + +DIOMEDES Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse; + Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid: + Fellow, commend my service to her beauty; + Tell her I have chastised the amorous Trojan, + And am her knight by proof. + +Servant I go, my lord. + + [Exit] + + [Enter AGAMEMNON] + +AGAMEMNON Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamas + Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon + Hath Doreus prisoner, + And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam, + Upon the pashed corses of the kings + Epistrophus and Cedius: Polyxenes is slain, + Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt, + Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes + Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary + Appals our numbers: haste we, Diomed, + To reinforcement, or we perish all. + + [Enter NESTOR] + +NESTOR Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles; + And bid the snail-paced Ajax arm for shame. + There is a thousand Hectors in the field: + Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, + And there lacks work; anon he's there afoot, + And there they fly or die, like scaled sculls + Before the belching whale; then is he yonder, + And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, + Fall down before him, like the mower's swath: + Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes, + Dexterity so obeying appetite + That what he will he does, and does so much + That proof is call'd impossibility. + + [Enter ULYSSES] + +ULYSSES O, courage, courage, princes! great Achilles + Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance: + Patroclus' wounds have roused his drowsy blood, + Together with his mangled Myrmidons, + That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come to him, + Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend + And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it, + Roaring for Troilus, who hath done to-day + Mad and fantastic execution, + Engaging and redeeming of himself + With such a careless force and forceless care + As if that luck, in very spite of cunning, + Bade him win all. + + [Enter AJAX] + +AJAX Troilus! thou coward Troilus! + + [Exit] + +DIOMEDES Ay, there, there. + +NESTOR So, so, we draw together. + + [Enter ACHILLES] + +ACHILLES Where is this Hector? + Come, come, thou boy-queller, show thy face; + Know what it is to meet Achilles angry: + Hector? where's Hector? I will none but Hector. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter AJAX] + +AJAX Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show thy head! + + [Enter DIOMEDES] + +DIOMEDES Troilus, I say! where's Troilus? + +AJAX What wouldst thou? + +DIOMEDES I would correct him. + +AJAX Were I the general, thou shouldst have my office + Ere that correction. Troilus, I say! what, Troilus! + + [Enter TROILUS] + +TROILUS O traitor Diomed! turn thy false face, thou traitor, + And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse! + +DIOMEDES Ha, art thou there? + +AJAX I'll fight with him alone: stand, Diomed. + +DIOMEDES He is my prize; I will not look upon. + +TROILUS Come, both you cogging Greeks; have at you both! + + [Exeunt, fighting] + + [Enter HECTOR] + +HECTOR Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my youngest brother! + + [Enter ACHILLES] + +ACHILLES Now do I see thee, ha! have at thee, Hector! + +HECTOR Pause, if thou wilt. + +ACHILLES I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan: + Be happy that my arms are out of use: + My rest and negligence befriends thee now, + But thou anon shalt hear of me again; + Till when, go seek thy fortune. + + [Exit] + +HECTOR Fare thee well: + I would have been much more a fresher man, + Had I expected thee. How now, my brother! + + [Re-enter TROILUS] + +TROILUS Ajax hath ta'en AEneas: shall it be? + No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven, + He shall not carry him: I'll be ta'en too, + Or bring him off: fate, hear me what I say! + I reck not though I end my life to-day. + + [Exit] + + [Enter one in sumptuous armour] + +HECTOR Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a goodly mark: + No? wilt thou not? I like thy armour well; + I'll frush it and unlock the rivets all, + But I'll be master of it: wilt thou not, + beast, abide? + Why, then fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VII Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons] + +ACHILLES Come here about me, you my Myrmidons; + Mark what I say. Attend me where I wheel: + Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath: + And when I have the bloody Hector found, + Empale him with your weapons round about; + In fellest manner execute your aims. + Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye: + It is decreed Hector the great must die. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting: + then THERSITES] + +THERSITES The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it. Now, + bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! now my double- + henned sparrow! 'loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the + game: ware horns, ho! + + [Exeunt PARIS and MENELAUS] + + [Enter MARGARELON] + +MARGARELON Turn, slave, and fight. + +THERSITES What art thou? + +MARGARELON A bastard son of Priam's. + +THERSITES I am a bastard too; I love bastards: I am a bastard + begot, bastard instructed, bastard in mind, bastard + in valour, in every thing illegitimate. One bear will + not bite another, and wherefore should one bastard? + Take heed, the quarrel's most ominous to us: if the + son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts judgment: + farewell, bastard. + + [Exit] + +MARGARELON The devil take thee, coward! + + [Exit] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VIII Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter HECTOR] + +HECTOR Most putrefied core, so fair without, + Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. + Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath: + Rest, sword; thou hast thy fill of blood and death. + + [Puts off his helmet and hangs his shield + behind him] + + [Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons] + +ACHILLES Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; + How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: + Even with the vail and darking of the sun, + To close the day up, Hector's life is done. + +HECTOR I am unarm'd; forego this vantage, Greek. + +ACHILLES Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. + + [HECTOR falls] + + So, Ilion, fall thou next! now, Troy, sink down! + Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. + On, Myrmidons, and cry you all amain, + 'Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain.' + + [A retreat sounded] + + Hark! a retire upon our Grecian part. + +MYRMIDONS The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. + +ACHILLES The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth, + And, stickler-like, the armies separates. + My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed, + Pleased with this dainty bait, thus goes to bed. + + [Sheathes his sword] + + Come, tie his body to my horse's tail; + Along the field I will the Trojan trail. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IX Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR, DIOMEDES, + and others, marching. Shouts within] + +AGAMEMNON Hark! hark! what shout is that? + +NESTOR Peace, drums! + + [Within] + + Achilles! Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles. + +DIOMEDES The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles. + +AJAX If it be so, yet bragless let it be; + Great Hector was a man as good as he. + +AGAMEMNON March patiently along: let one be sent + To pray Achilles see us at our tent. + If in his death the gods have us befriended, + Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. + + [Exeunt, marching] + + + + + TROILUS AND CRESSIDA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE X Another part of the plains. + + + [Enter AENEAS and Trojans] + +AENEAS Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: + Never go home; here starve we out the night. + + [Enter TROILUS] + +TROILUS Hector is slain. + +ALL Hector! the gods forbid! + +TROILUS He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail, + In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field. + Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed! + Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy! + I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, + And linger not our sure destructions on! + +AENEAS My lord, you do discomfort all the host! + +TROILUS You understand me not that tell me so: + I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death, + But dare all imminence that gods and men + Address their dangers in. Hector is gone: + Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? + Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, + Go in to Troy, and say there, Hector's dead: + There is a word will Priam turn to stone; + Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, + Cold statues of the youth, and, in a word, + Scare Troy out of itself. But, march away: + Hector is dead; there is no more to say. + Stay yet. You vile abominable tents, + Thus proudly pight upon our Phrygian plains, + Let Titan rise as early as he dare, + I'll through and through you! and, thou great-sized coward, + No space of earth shall sunder our two hates: + I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, + That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. + Strike a free march to Troy! with comfort go: + Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. + + [Exeunt AENEAS and Trojans] + + [As TROILUS is going out, enter, from the other + side, PANDARUS] + +PANDARUS But hear you, hear you! + +TROILUS Hence, broker-lackey! ignomy and shame + Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name! + + [Exit] + +PANDARUS A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world! + world! world! thus is the poor agent despised! + O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set + a-work, and how ill requited! why should our + endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed? + what verse for it? what instance for it? Let me see: + Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, + Till he hath lost his honey and his sting; + And being once subdued in armed tail, + Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. + Good traders in the flesh, set this in your + painted cloths. + As many as be here of pander's hall, + Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall; + Or if you cannot weep, yet give some groans, + Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. + Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade, + Some two months hence my will shall here be made: + It should be now, but that my fear is this, + Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss: + Till then I'll sweat and seek about for eases, + And at that time bequeathe you my diseases. + + [Exit] + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +ORSINO Duke of Illyria. (DUKE ORSINO:) + +SEBASTIAN brother to Viola. + +ANTONIO a sea captain, friend to Sebastian. + + A Sea Captain, friend to Viola. (Captain:) + + +VALENTINE | + | gentlemen attending on the Duke. +CURIO | + + +SIR TOBY BELCH uncle to Olivia. + +SIR ANDREW +AGUECHEEK (SIR ANDREW:) + +MALVOLIO steward to Olivia. + + +FABIAN | + | servants to Olivia. +FESTE a Clown (Clown:) | + + +OLIVIA: + +VIOLA: + +MARIA Olivia's woman. + + Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, + and other Attendants. + (Priest:) + (First Officer:) + (Second Officer:) + (Servant:) + + +SCENE A city in Illyria, and the sea-coast near it. + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I DUKE ORSINO's palace. + + + [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and other Lords; + Musicians attending] + +DUKE ORSINO If music be the food of love, play on; + Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, + The appetite may sicken, and so die. + That strain again! it had a dying fall: + O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound, + That breathes upon a bank of violets, + Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: + 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before. + O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou, + That, notwithstanding thy capacity + Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there, + Of what validity and pitch soe'er, + But falls into abatement and low price, + Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy + That it alone is high fantastical. + +CURIO Will you go hunt, my lord? + +DUKE ORSINO What, Curio? + +CURIO The hart. + +DUKE ORSINO Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: + O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, + Methought she purged the air of pestilence! + That instant was I turn'd into a hart; + And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, + E'er since pursue me. + + [Enter VALENTINE] + + How now! what news from her? + +VALENTINE So please my lord, I might not be admitted; + But from her handmaid do return this answer: + The element itself, till seven years' heat, + Shall not behold her face at ample view; + But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk + And water once a day her chamber round + With eye-offending brine: all this to season + A brother's dead love, which she would keep fresh + And lasting in her sad remembrance. + +DUKE ORSINO O, she that hath a heart of that fine frame + To pay this debt of love but to a brother, + How will she love, when the rich golden shaft + Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else + That live in her; when liver, brain and heart, + These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and fill'd + Her sweet perfections with one self king! + Away before me to sweet beds of flowers: + Love-thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The sea-coast. + + + [Enter VIOLA, a Captain, and Sailors] + +VIOLA What country, friends, is this? + +Captain This is Illyria, lady. + +VIOLA And what should I do in Illyria? + My brother he is in Elysium. + Perchance he is not drown'd: what think you, sailors? + +Captain It is perchance that you yourself were saved. + +VIOLA O my poor brother! and so perchance may he be. + +Captain True, madam: and, to comfort you with chance, + Assure yourself, after our ship did split, + When you and those poor number saved with you + Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brother, + Most provident in peril, bind himself, + Courage and hope both teaching him the practise, + To a strong mast that lived upon the sea; + Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, + I saw him hold acquaintance with the waves + So long as I could see. + +VIOLA For saying so, there's gold: + Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, + Whereto thy speech serves for authority, + The like of him. Know'st thou this country? + +Captain Ay, madam, well; for I was bred and born + Not three hours' travel from this very place. + +VIOLA Who governs here? + +Captain A noble duke, in nature as in name. + +VIOLA What is the name? + +Captain Orsino. + +VIOLA Orsino! I have heard my father name him: + He was a bachelor then. + +Captain And so is now, or was so very late; + For but a month ago I went from hence, + And then 'twas fresh in murmur,--as, you know, + What great ones do the less will prattle of,-- + That he did seek the love of fair Olivia. + +VIOLA What's she? + +Captain A virtuous maid, the daughter of a count + That died some twelvemonth since, then leaving her + In the protection of his son, her brother, + Who shortly also died: for whose dear love, + They say, she hath abjured the company + And sight of men. + +VIOLA O that I served that lady + And might not be delivered to the world, + Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, + What my estate is! + +Captain That were hard to compass; + Because she will admit no kind of suit, + No, not the duke's. + +VIOLA There is a fair behavior in thee, captain; + And though that nature with a beauteous wall + Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee + I will believe thou hast a mind that suits + With this thy fair and outward character. + I prithee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, + Conceal me what I am, and be my aid + For such disguise as haply shall become + The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke: + Thou shall present me as an eunuch to him: + It may be worth thy pains; for I can sing + And speak to him in many sorts of music + That will allow me very worth his service. + What else may hap to time I will commit; + Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. + +Captain Be you his eunuch, and your mute I'll be: + When my tongue blabs, then let mine eyes not see. + +VIOLA I thank thee: lead me on. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III OLIVIA'S house. + + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] + +SIR TOBY BELCH What a plague means my niece, to take the death of + her brother thus? I am sure care's an enemy to life. + +MARIA By my troth, Sir Toby, you must come in earlier o' + nights: your cousin, my lady, takes great + exceptions to your ill hours. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, let her except, before excepted. + +MARIA Ay, but you must confine yourself within the modest + limits of order. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Confine! I'll confine myself no finer than I am: + these clothes are good enough to drink in; and so be + these boots too: an they be not, let them hang + themselves in their own straps. + +MARIA That quaffing and drinking will undo you: I heard + my lady talk of it yesterday; and of a foolish + knight that you brought in one night here to be her wooer. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Who, Sir Andrew Aguecheek? + +MARIA Ay, he. + +SIR TOBY BELCH He's as tall a man as any's in Illyria. + +MARIA What's that to the purpose? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, he has three thousand ducats a year. + +MARIA Ay, but he'll have but a year in all these ducats: + he's a very fool and a prodigal. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Fie, that you'll say so! he plays o' the + viol-de-gamboys, and speaks three or four languages + word for word without book, and hath all the good + gifts of nature. + +MARIA He hath indeed, almost natural: for besides that + he's a fool, he's a great quarreller: and but that + he hath the gift of a coward to allay the gust he + hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought among the prudent + he would quickly have the gift of a grave. + +SIR TOBY BELCH By this hand, they are scoundrels and subtractors + that say so of him. Who are they? + +MARIA They that add, moreover, he's drunk nightly in your company. + +SIR TOBY BELCH With drinking healths to my niece: I'll drink to + her as long as there is a passage in my throat and + drink in Illyria: he's a coward and a coystrill + that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn + o' the toe like a parish-top. What, wench! + Castiliano vulgo! for here comes Sir Andrew Agueface. + + [Enter SIR ANDREW] + +SIR ANDREW Sir Toby Belch! how now, Sir Toby Belch! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Sweet Sir Andrew! + +SIR ANDREW Bless you, fair shrew. + +MARIA And you too, sir. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. + +SIR ANDREW What's that? + +SIR TOBY BELCH My niece's chambermaid. + +SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Accost, I desire better acquaintance. + +MARIA My name is Mary, sir. + +SIR ANDREW Good Mistress Mary Accost,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH You mistake, knight; 'accost' is front her, board + her, woo her, assail her. + +SIR ANDREW By my troth, I would not undertake her in this + company. Is that the meaning of 'accost'? + +MARIA Fare you well, gentlemen. + +SIR TOBY BELCH An thou let part so, Sir Andrew, would thou mightst + never draw sword again. + +SIR ANDREW An you part so, mistress, I would I might never + draw sword again. Fair lady, do you think you have + fools in hand? + +MARIA Sir, I have not you by the hand. + +SIR ANDREW Marry, but you shall have; and here's my hand. + +MARIA Now, sir, 'thought is free:' I pray you, bring + your hand to the buttery-bar and let it drink. + +SIR ANDREW Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's your metaphor? + +MARIA It's dry, sir. + +SIR ANDREW Why, I think so: I am not such an ass but I can + keep my hand dry. But what's your jest? + +MARIA A dry jest, sir. + +SIR ANDREW Are you full of them? + +MARIA Ay, sir, I have them at my fingers' ends: marry, + now I let go your hand, I am barren. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH O knight thou lackest a cup of canary: when did I + see thee so put down? + +SIR ANDREW Never in your life, I think; unless you see canary + put me down. Methinks sometimes I have no more wit + than a Christian or an ordinary man has: but I am a + great eater of beef and I believe that does harm to my wit. + +SIR TOBY BELCH No question. + +SIR ANDREW An I thought that, I'ld forswear it. I'll ride home + to-morrow, Sir Toby. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Pourquoi, my dear knight? + +SIR ANDREW What is 'Pourquoi'? do or not do? I would I had + bestowed that time in the tongues that I have in + fencing, dancing and bear-baiting: O, had I but + followed the arts! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Then hadst thou had an excellent head of hair. + +SIR ANDREW Why, would that have mended my hair? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Past question; for thou seest it will not curl by nature. + +SIR ANDREW But it becomes me well enough, does't not? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent; it hangs like flax on a distaff; and I + hope to see a housewife take thee between her legs + and spin it off. + +SIR ANDREW Faith, I'll home to-morrow, Sir Toby: your niece + will not be seen; or if she be, it's four to one + she'll none of me: the count himself here hard by woos her. + +SIR TOBY BELCH She'll none o' the count: she'll not match above + her degree, neither in estate, years, nor wit; I + have heard her swear't. Tut, there's life in't, + man. + +SIR ANDREW I'll stay a month longer. I am a fellow o' the + strangest mind i' the world; I delight in masques + and revels sometimes altogether. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Art thou good at these kickshawses, knight? + +SIR ANDREW As any man in Illyria, whatsoever he be, under the + degree of my betters; and yet I will not compare + with an old man. + +SIR TOBY BELCH What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight? + +SIR ANDREW Faith, I can cut a caper. + +SIR TOBY BELCH And I can cut the mutton to't. + +SIR ANDREW And I think I have the back-trick simply as strong + as any man in Illyria. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Wherefore are these things hid? wherefore have + these gifts a curtain before 'em? are they like to + take dust, like Mistress Mall's picture? why dost + thou not go to church in a galliard and come home in + a coranto? My very walk should be a jig; I would not + so much as make water but in a sink-a-pace. What + dost thou mean? Is it a world to hide virtues in? + I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy + leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard. + +SIR ANDREW Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indifferent well in a + flame-coloured stock. Shall we set about some revels? + +SIR TOBY BELCH What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus? + +SIR ANDREW Taurus! That's sides and heart. + +SIR TOBY BELCH No, sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see the + caper; ha! higher: ha, ha! excellent! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace. + + + [Enter VALENTINE and VIOLA in man's attire] + +VALENTINE If the duke continue these favours towards you, + Cesario, you are like to be much advanced: he hath + known you but three days, and already you are no stranger. + +VIOLA You either fear his humour or my negligence, that + you call in question the continuance of his love: + is he inconstant, sir, in his favours? + +VALENTINE No, believe me. + +VIOLA I thank you. Here comes the count. + + [Enter DUKE ORSINO, CURIO, and Attendants] + +DUKE ORSINO Who saw Cesario, ho? + +VIOLA On your attendance, my lord; here. + +DUKE ORSINO Stand you a while aloof, Cesario, + Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd + To thee the book even of my secret soul: + Therefore, good youth, address thy gait unto her; + Be not denied access, stand at her doors, + And tell them, there thy fixed foot shall grow + Till thou have audience. + +VIOLA Sure, my noble lord, + If she be so abandon'd to her sorrow + As it is spoke, she never will admit me. + +DUKE ORSINO Be clamorous and leap all civil bounds + Rather than make unprofited return. + +VIOLA Say I do speak with her, my lord, what then? + +DUKE ORSINO O, then unfold the passion of my love, + Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: + It shall become thee well to act my woes; + She will attend it better in thy youth + Than in a nuncio's of more grave aspect. + +VIOLA I think not so, my lord. + +DUKE ORSINO Dear lad, believe it; + For they shall yet belie thy happy years, + That say thou art a man: Diana's lip + Is not more smooth and rubious; thy small pipe + Is as the maiden's organ, shrill and sound, + And all is semblative a woman's part. + I know thy constellation is right apt + For this affair. Some four or five attend him; + All, if you will; for I myself am best + When least in company. Prosper well in this, + And thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, + To call his fortunes thine. + +VIOLA I'll do my best + To woo your lady: + + [Aside] + + yet, a barful strife! + Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V OLIVIA'S house. + + + [Enter MARIA and Clown] + +MARIA Nay, either tell me where thou hast been, or I will + not open my lips so wide as a bristle may enter in + way of thy excuse: my lady will hang thee for thy absence. + +Clown Let her hang me: he that is well hanged in this + world needs to fear no colours. + +MARIA Make that good. + +Clown He shall see none to fear. + +MARIA A good lenten answer: I can tell thee where that + saying was born, of 'I fear no colours.' + +Clown Where, good Mistress Mary? + +MARIA In the wars; and that may you be bold to say in your foolery. + +Clown Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those + that are fools, let them use their talents. + +MARIA Yet you will be hanged for being so long absent; or, + to be turned away, is not that as good as a hanging to you? + +Clown Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage; and, + for turning away, let summer bear it out. + +MARIA You are resolute, then? + +Clown Not so, neither; but I am resolved on two points. + +MARIA That if one break, the other will hold; or, if both + break, your gaskins fall. + +Clown Apt, in good faith; very apt. Well, go thy way; if + Sir Toby would leave drinking, thou wert as witty a + piece of Eve's flesh as any in Illyria. + +MARIA Peace, you rogue, no more o' that. Here comes my + lady: make your excuse wisely, you were best. + + [Exit] + +Clown Wit, an't be thy will, put me into good fooling! + Those wits, that think they have thee, do very oft + prove fools; and I, that am sure I lack thee, may + pass for a wise man: for what says Quinapalus? + 'Better a witty fool, than a foolish wit.' + + [Enter OLIVIA with MALVOLIO] + + God bless thee, lady! + +OLIVIA Take the fool away. + +Clown Do you not hear, fellows? Take away the lady. + +OLIVIA Go to, you're a dry fool; I'll no more of you: + besides, you grow dishonest. + +Clown Two faults, madonna, that drink and good counsel + will amend: for give the dry fool drink, then is + the fool not dry: bid the dishonest man mend + himself; if he mend, he is no longer dishonest; if + he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Any thing + that's mended is but patched: virtue that + transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that + amends is but patched with virtue. If that this + simple syllogism will serve, so; if it will not, + what remedy? As there is no true cuckold but + calamity, so beauty's a flower. The lady bade take + away the fool; therefore, I say again, take her away. + +OLIVIA Sir, I bade them take away you. + +Clown Misprision in the highest degree! Lady, cucullus non + facit monachum; that's as much to say as I wear not + motley in my brain. Good madonna, give me leave to + prove you a fool. + +OLIVIA Can you do it? + +Clown Dexterously, good madonna. + +OLIVIA Make your proof. + +Clown I must catechise you for it, madonna: good my mouse + of virtue, answer me. + +OLIVIA Well, sir, for want of other idleness, I'll bide your proof. + +Clown Good madonna, why mournest thou? + +OLIVIA Good fool, for my brother's death. + +Clown I think his soul is in hell, madonna. + +OLIVIA I know his soul is in heaven, fool. + +Clown The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's + soul being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen. + +OLIVIA What think you of this fool, Malvolio? doth he not mend? + +MALVOLIO Yes, and shall do till the pangs of death shake him: + infirmity, that decays the wise, doth ever make the + better fool. + +Clown God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, for the + better increasing your folly! Sir Toby will be + sworn that I am no fox; but he will not pass his + word for two pence that you are no fool. + +OLIVIA How say you to that, Malvolio? + +MALVOLIO I marvel your ladyship takes delight in such a + barren rascal: I saw him put down the other day + with an ordinary fool that has no more brain + than a stone. Look you now, he's out of his guard + already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to + him, he is gagged. I protest, I take these wise men, + that crow so at these set kind of fools, no better + than the fools' zanies. + +OLIVIA Oh, you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, and taste + with a distempered appetite. To be generous, + guiltless and of free disposition, is to take those + things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets: + there is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do + nothing but rail; nor no railing in a known discreet + man, though he do nothing but reprove. + +Clown Now Mercury endue thee with leasing, for thou + speakest well of fools! + + [Re-enter MARIA] + +MARIA Madam, there is at the gate a young gentleman much + desires to speak with you. + +OLIVIA From the Count Orsino, is it? + +MARIA I know not, madam: 'tis a fair young man, and well attended. + +OLIVIA Who of my people hold him in delay? + +MARIA Sir Toby, madam, your kinsman. + +OLIVIA Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks nothing but + madman: fie on him! + + [Exit MARIA] + + Go you, Malvolio: if it be a suit from the count, I + am sick, or not at home; what you will, to dismiss it. + + [Exit MALVOLIO] + + Now you see, sir, how your fooling grows old, and + people dislike it. + +Clown Thou hast spoke for us, madonna, as if thy eldest + son should be a fool; whose skull Jove cram with + brains! for,--here he comes,--one of thy kin has a + most weak pia mater. + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH] + +OLIVIA By mine honour, half drunk. What is he at the gate, cousin? + +SIR TOBY BELCH A gentleman. + +OLIVIA A gentleman! what gentleman? + +SIR TOBY BELCH 'Tis a gentle man here--a plague o' these + pickle-herring! How now, sot! + +Clown Good Sir Toby! + +OLIVIA Cousin, cousin, how have you come so early by this lethargy? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Lechery! I defy lechery. There's one at the gate. + +OLIVIA Ay, marry, what is he? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Let him be the devil, an he will, I care not: give + me faith, say I. Well, it's all one. + + [Exit] + +OLIVIA What's a drunken man like, fool? + +Clown Like a drowned man, a fool and a mad man: one + draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads + him; and a third drowns him. + +OLIVIA Go thou and seek the crowner, and let him sit o' my + coz; for he's in the third degree of drink, he's + drowned: go, look after him. + +Clown He is but mad yet, madonna; and the fool shall look + to the madman. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter MALVOLIO] + +MALVOLIO Madam, yond young fellow swears he will speak with + you. I told him you were sick; he takes on him to + understand so much, and therefore comes to speak + with you. I told him you were asleep; he seems to + have a foreknowledge of that too, and therefore + comes to speak with you. What is to be said to him, + lady? he's fortified against any denial. + +OLIVIA Tell him he shall not speak with me. + +MALVOLIO Has been told so; and he says, he'll stand at your + door like a sheriff's post, and be the supporter to + a bench, but he'll speak with you. + +OLIVIA What kind o' man is he? + +MALVOLIO Why, of mankind. + +OLIVIA What manner of man? + +MALVOLIO Of very ill manner; he'll speak with you, will you or no. + +OLIVIA Of what personage and years is he? + +MALVOLIO Not yet old enough for a man, nor young enough for + a boy; as a squash is before 'tis a peascod, or a + cooling when 'tis almost an apple: 'tis with him + in standing water, between boy and man. He is very + well-favoured and he speaks very shrewishly; one + would think his mother's milk were scarce out of him. + +OLIVIA Let him approach: call in my gentlewoman. + +MALVOLIO Gentlewoman, my lady calls. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter MARIA] + +OLIVIA Give me my veil: come, throw it o'er my face. + We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. + + [Enter VIOLA, and Attendants] + +VIOLA The honourable lady of the house, which is she? + +OLIVIA Speak to me; I shall answer for her. + Your will? + +VIOLA Most radiant, exquisite and unmatchable beauty,--I + pray you, tell me if this be the lady of the house, + for I never saw her: I would be loath to cast away + my speech, for besides that it is excellently well + penned, I have taken great pains to con it. Good + beauties, let me sustain no scorn; I am very + comptible, even to the least sinister usage. + +OLIVIA Whence came you, sir? + +VIOLA I can say little more than I have studied, and that + question's out of my part. Good gentle one, give me + modest assurance if you be the lady of the house, + that I may proceed in my speech. + +OLIVIA Are you a comedian? + +VIOLA No, my profound heart: and yet, by the very fangs + of malice I swear, I am not that I play. Are you + the lady of the house? + +OLIVIA If I do not usurp myself, I am. + +VIOLA Most certain, if you are she, you do usurp + yourself; for what is yours to bestow is not yours + to reserve. But this is from my commission: I will + on with my speech in your praise, and then show you + the heart of my message. + +OLIVIA Come to what is important in't: I forgive you the praise. + +VIOLA Alas, I took great pains to study it, and 'tis poetical. + +OLIVIA It is the more like to be feigned: I pray you, + keep it in. I heard you were saucy at my gates, + and allowed your approach rather to wonder at you + than to hear you. If you be not mad, be gone; if + you have reason, be brief: 'tis not that time of + moon with me to make one in so skipping a dialogue. + +MARIA Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your way. + +VIOLA No, good swabber; I am to hull here a little + longer. Some mollification for your giant, sweet + lady. Tell me your mind: I am a messenger. + +OLIVIA Sure, you have some hideous matter to deliver, when + the courtesy of it is so fearful. Speak your office. + +VIOLA It alone concerns your ear. I bring no overture of + war, no taxation of homage: I hold the olive in my + hand; my words are as fun of peace as matter. + +OLIVIA Yet you began rudely. What are you? what would you? + +VIOLA The rudeness that hath appeared in me have I + learned from my entertainment. What I am, and what I + would, are as secret as maidenhead; to your ears, + divinity, to any other's, profanation. + +OLIVIA Give us the place alone: we will hear this divinity. + + [Exeunt MARIA and Attendants] + + Now, sir, what is your text? + +VIOLA Most sweet lady,-- + +OLIVIA A comfortable doctrine, and much may be said of it. + Where lies your text? + +VIOLA In Orsino's bosom. + +OLIVIA In his bosom! In what chapter of his bosom? + +VIOLA To answer by the method, in the first of his heart. + +OLIVIA O, I have read it: it is heresy. Have you no more to say? + +VIOLA Good madam, let me see your face. + +OLIVIA Have you any commission from your lord to negotiate + with my face? You are now out of your text: but + we will draw the curtain and show you the picture. + Look you, sir, such a one I was this present: is't + not well done? + + [Unveiling] + +VIOLA Excellently done, if God did all. + +OLIVIA 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather. + +VIOLA 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white + Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: + Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, + If you will lead these graces to the grave + And leave the world no copy. + +OLIVIA O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted; I will give + out divers schedules of my beauty: it shall be + inventoried, and every particle and utensil + labelled to my will: as, item, two lips, + indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to + them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. Were + you sent hither to praise me? + +VIOLA I see you what you are, you are too proud; + But, if you were the devil, you are fair. + My lord and master loves you: O, such love + Could be but recompensed, though you were crown'd + The nonpareil of beauty! + +OLIVIA How does he love me? + +VIOLA With adorations, fertile tears, + With groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire. + +OLIVIA Your lord does know my mind; I cannot love him: + Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble, + Of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth; + In voices well divulged, free, learn'd and valiant; + And in dimension and the shape of nature + A gracious person: but yet I cannot love him; + He might have took his answer long ago. + +VIOLA If I did love you in my master's flame, + With such a suffering, such a deadly life, + In your denial I would find no sense; + I would not understand it. + +OLIVIA Why, what would you? + +VIOLA Make me a willow cabin at your gate, + And call upon my soul within the house; + Write loyal cantons of contemned love + And sing them loud even in the dead of night; + Halloo your name to the reverberate hills + And make the babbling gossip of the air + Cry out 'Olivia!' O, You should not rest + Between the elements of air and earth, + But you should pity me! + +OLIVIA You might do much. + What is your parentage? + +VIOLA Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: + I am a gentleman. + +OLIVIA Get you to your lord; + I cannot love him: let him send no more; + Unless, perchance, you come to me again, + To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well: + I thank you for your pains: spend this for me. + +VIOLA I am no fee'd post, lady; keep your purse: + My master, not myself, lacks recompense. + Love make his heart of flint that you shall love; + And let your fervor, like my master's, be + Placed in contempt! Farewell, fair cruelty. + + [Exit] + +OLIVIA 'What is your parentage?' + 'Above my fortunes, yet my state is well: + I am a gentleman.' I'll be sworn thou art; + Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and spirit, + Do give thee five-fold blazon: not too fast: + soft, soft! + Unless the master were the man. How now! + Even so quickly may one catch the plague? + Methinks I feel this youth's perfections + With an invisible and subtle stealth + To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. + What ho, Malvolio! + + [Re-enter MALVOLIO] + +MALVOLIO Here, madam, at your service. + +OLIVIA Run after that same peevish messenger, + The county's man: he left this ring behind him, + Would I or not: tell him I'll none of it. + Desire him not to flatter with his lord, + Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: + If that the youth will come this way to-morrow, + I'll give him reasons for't: hie thee, Malvolio. + +MALVOLIO Madam, I will. + + [Exit] + +OLIVIA I do I know not what, and fear to find + Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. + Fate, show thy force: ourselves we do not owe; + What is decreed must be, and be this so. + + [Exit] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I The sea-coast. + + + [Enter ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN] + +ANTONIO Will you stay no longer? nor will you not that I go with you? + +SEBASTIAN By your patience, no. My stars shine darkly over + me: the malignancy of my fate might perhaps + distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your + leave that I may bear my evils alone: it were a bad + recompense for your love, to lay any of them on you. + +ANTONIO: Let me yet know of you whither you are bound. + +SEBASTIAN No, sooth, sir: my determinate voyage is mere + extravagancy. But I perceive in you so excellent a + touch of modesty, that you will not extort from me + what I am willing to keep in; therefore it charges + me in manners the rather to express myself. You + must know of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, + which I called Roderigo. My father was that + Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know you have heard + of. He left behind him myself and a sister, both + born in an hour: if the heavens had been pleased, + would we had so ended! but you, sir, altered that; + for some hour before you took me from the breach of + the sea was my sister drowned. + +ANTONIO Alas the day! + +SEBASTIAN A lady, sir, though it was said she much resembled + me, was yet of many accounted beautiful: but, + though I could not with such estimable wonder + overfar believe that, yet thus far I will boldly + publish her; she bore a mind that envy could not but + call fair. She is drowned already, sir, with salt + water, though I seem to drown her remembrance again with more. + +ANTONIO Pardon me, sir, your bad entertainment. + +SEBASTIAN O good Antonio, forgive me your trouble. + +ANTONIO If you will not murder me for my love, let me be + your servant. + +SEBASTIAN If you will not undo what you have done, that is, + kill him whom you have recovered, desire it not. + Fare ye well at once: my bosom is full of kindness, + and I am yet so near the manners of my mother, that + upon the least occasion more mine eyes will tell + tales of me. I am bound to the Count Orsino's court: farewell. + + [Exit] + +ANTONIO The gentleness of all the gods go with thee! + I have many enemies in Orsino's court, + Else would I very shortly see thee there. + But, come what may, I do adore thee so, + That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. + + [Exit] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A street. + + + [Enter VIOLA, MALVOLIO following] + +MALVOLIO Were not you even now with the Countess Olivia? + +VIOLA Even now, sir; on a moderate pace I have since + arrived but hither. + +MALVOLIO She returns this ring to you, sir: you might have + saved me my pains, to have taken it away yourself. + She adds, moreover, that you should put your lord + into a desperate assurance she will none of him: + and one thing more, that you be never so hardy to + come again in his affairs, unless it be to report + your lord's taking of this. Receive it so. + +VIOLA She took the ring of me: I'll none of it. + +MALVOLIO Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to her; and her + will is, it should be so returned: if it be worth + stooping for, there it lies in your eye; if not, be + it his that finds it. + + [Exit] + +VIOLA I left no ring with her: what means this lady? + Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her! + She made good view of me; indeed, so much, + That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue, + For she did speak in starts distractedly. + She loves me, sure; the cunning of her passion + Invites me in this churlish messenger. + None of my lord's ring! why, he sent her none. + I am the man: if it be so, as 'tis, + Poor lady, she were better love a dream. + Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, + Wherein the pregnant enemy does much. + How easy is it for the proper-false + In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! + Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we! + For such as we are made of, such we be. + How will this fadge? my master loves her dearly; + And I, poor monster, fond as much on him; + And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me. + What will become of this? As I am man, + My state is desperate for my master's love; + As I am woman,--now alas the day!-- + What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe! + O time! thou must untangle this, not I; + It is too hard a knot for me to untie! + + [Exit] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III OLIVIA's house. + + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and SIR ANDREW] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Approach, Sir Andrew: not to be abed after + midnight is to be up betimes; and 'diluculo + surgere,' thou know'st,-- + +SIR ANDREW Nay, my troth, I know not: but I know, to be up + late is to be up late. + +SIR TOBY BELCH A false conclusion: I hate it as an unfilled can. + To be up after midnight and to go to bed then, is + early: so that to go to bed after midnight is to go + to bed betimes. Does not our life consist of the + four elements? + +SIR ANDREW Faith, so they say; but I think it rather consists + of eating and drinking. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt a scholar; let us therefore eat and drink. + Marian, I say! a stoup of wine! + + [Enter Clown] + +SIR ANDREW Here comes the fool, i' faith. + +Clown How now, my hearts! did you never see the picture + of 'we three'? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Welcome, ass. Now let's have a catch. + +SIR ANDREW By my troth, the fool has an excellent breast. I + had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, + and so sweet a breath to sing, as the fool has. In + sooth, thou wast in very gracious fooling last + night, when thou spokest of Pigrogromitus, of the + Vapians passing the equinoctial of Queubus: 'twas + very good, i' faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy + leman: hadst it? + +Clown I did impeticos thy gratillity; for Malvolio's nose + is no whipstock: my lady has a white hand, and the + Myrmidons are no bottle-ale houses. + +SIR ANDREW Excellent! why, this is the best fooling, when all + is done. Now, a song. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song. + +SIR ANDREW There's a testril of me too: if one knight give a-- + +Clown Would you have a love-song, or a song of good life? + +SIR TOBY BELCH A love-song, a love-song. + +SIR ANDREW Ay, ay: I care not for good life. + +Clown [Sings] + + O mistress mine, where are you roaming? + O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, + That can sing both high and low: + Trip no further, pretty sweeting; + Journeys end in lovers meeting, + Every wise man's son doth know. + +SIR ANDREW Excellent good, i' faith. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Good, good. + +Clown [Sings] + + What is love? 'tis not hereafter; + Present mirth hath present laughter; + What's to come is still unsure: + In delay there lies no plenty; + Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, + Youth's a stuff will not endure. + +SIR ANDREW A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight. + +SIR TOBY BELCH A contagious breath. + +SIR ANDREW Very sweet and contagious, i' faith. + +SIR TOBY BELCH To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in contagion. + But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? shall we + rouse the night-owl in a catch that will draw three + souls out of one weaver? shall we do that? + +SIR ANDREW An you love me, let's do't: I am dog at a catch. + +Clown By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch well. + +SIR ANDREW Most certain. Let our catch be, 'Thou knave.' + +Clown 'Hold thy peace, thou knave,' knight? I shall be + constrained in't to call thee knave, knight. + +SIR ANDREW 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to + call me knave. Begin, fool: it begins 'Hold thy peace.' + +Clown I shall never begin if I hold my peace. + +SIR ANDREW Good, i' faith. Come, begin. + + [Catch sung] + + [Enter MARIA] + +MARIA What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady + have not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him + turn you out of doors, never trust me. + +SIR TOBY BELCH My lady's a Cataian, we are politicians, Malvolio's + a Peg-a-Ramsey, and 'Three merry men be we.' Am not + I consanguineous? am I not of her blood? + Tillyvally. Lady! + + [Sings] + + 'There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!' + +Clown Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable fooling. + +SIR ANDREW Ay, he does well enough if he be disposed, and so do + I too: he does it with a better grace, but I do it + more natural. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Sings] 'O, the twelfth day of December,'-- + +MARIA For the love o' God, peace! + + [Enter MALVOLIO] + +MALVOLIO My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have ye + no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to gabble like + tinkers at this time of night? Do ye make an + alehouse of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your + coziers' catches without any mitigation or remorse + of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, nor + time in you? + +SIR TOBY BELCH We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up! + +MALVOLIO Sir Toby, I must be round with you. My lady bade me + tell you, that, though she harbours you as her + kinsman, she's nothing allied to your disorders. If + you can separate yourself and your misdemeanors, you + are welcome to the house; if not, an it would please + you to take leave of her, she is very willing to bid + you farewell. + +SIR TOBY BELCH 'Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone.' + +MARIA Nay, good Sir Toby. + +Clown 'His eyes do show his days are almost done.' + +MALVOLIO Is't even so? + +SIR TOBY BELCH 'But I will never die.' + +Clown Sir Toby, there you lie. + +MALVOLIO This is much credit to you. + +SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go?' + +Clown 'What an if you do?' + +SIR TOBY BELCH 'Shall I bid him go, and spare not?' + +Clown 'O no, no, no, no, you dare not.' + +SIR TOBY BELCH Out o' tune, sir: ye lie. Art any more than a + steward? Dost thou think, because thou art + virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? + +Clown Yes, by Saint Anne, and ginger shall be hot i' the + mouth too. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Thou'rt i' the right. Go, sir, rub your chain with + crumbs. A stoup of wine, Maria! + +MALVOLIO Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's favour at any + thing more than contempt, you would not give means + for this uncivil rule: she shall know of it, by this hand. + + [Exit] + +MARIA Go shake your ears. + +SIR ANDREW 'Twere as good a deed as to drink when a man's + a-hungry, to challenge him the field, and then to + break promise with him and make a fool of him. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Do't, knight: I'll write thee a challenge: or I'll + deliver thy indignation to him by word of mouth. + +MARIA Sweet Sir Toby, be patient for tonight: since the + youth of the count's was today with thy lady, she is + much out of quiet. For Monsieur Malvolio, let me + alone with him: if I do not gull him into a + nayword, and make him a common recreation, do not + think I have wit enough to lie straight in my bed: + I know I can do it. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Possess us, possess us; tell us something of him. + +MARIA Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of puritan. + +SIR ANDREW O, if I thought that I'ld beat him like a dog! + +SIR TOBY BELCH What, for being a puritan? thy exquisite reason, + dear knight? + +SIR ANDREW I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason + good enough. + +MARIA The devil a puritan that he is, or any thing + constantly, but a time-pleaser; an affectioned ass, + that cons state without book and utters it by great + swarths: the best persuaded of himself, so + crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is + his grounds of faith that all that look on him love + him; and on that vice in him will my revenge find + notable cause to work. + +SIR TOBY BELCH What wilt thou do? + +MARIA I will drop in his way some obscure epistles of + love; wherein, by the colour of his beard, the shape + of his leg, the manner of his gait, the expressure + of his eye, forehead, and complexion, he shall find + himself most feelingly personated. I can write very + like my lady your niece: on a forgotten matter we + can hardly make distinction of our hands. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent! I smell a device. + +SIR ANDREW I have't in my nose too. + +SIR TOBY BELCH He shall think, by the letters that thou wilt drop, + that they come from my niece, and that she's in + love with him. + +MARIA My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. + +SIR ANDREW And your horse now would make him an ass. + +MARIA Ass, I doubt not. + +SIR ANDREW O, 'twill be admirable! + +MARIA Sport royal, I warrant you: I know my physic will + work with him. I will plant you two, and let the + fool make a third, where he shall find the letter: + observe his construction of it. For this night, to + bed, and dream on the event. Farewell. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Good night, Penthesilea. + +SIR ANDREW Before me, she's a good wench. + +SIR TOBY BELCH She's a beagle, true-bred, and one that adores me: + what o' that? + +SIR ANDREW I was adored once too. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Let's to bed, knight. Thou hadst need send for + more money. + +SIR ANDREW If I cannot recover your niece, I am a foul way out. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Send for money, knight: if thou hast her not i' + the end, call me cut. + +SIR ANDREW If I do not, never trust me, take it how you will. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come, come, I'll go burn some sack; 'tis too late + to go to bed now: come, knight; come, knight. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV DUKE ORSINO's palace. + + + [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and others] + +DUKE ORSINO Give me some music. Now, good morrow, friends. + Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, + That old and antique song we heard last night: + Methought it did relieve my passion much, + More than light airs and recollected terms + Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times: + Come, but one verse. + +CURIO He is not here, so please your lordship that should sing it. + +DUKE ORSINO Who was it? + +CURIO Feste, the jester, my lord; a fool that the lady + Olivia's father took much delight in. He is about the house. + +DUKE ORSINO Seek him out, and play the tune the while. + + [Exit CURIO. Music plays] + + Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love, + In the sweet pangs of it remember me; + For such as I am all true lovers are, + Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, + Save in the constant image of the creature + That is beloved. How dost thou like this tune? + +VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat + Where Love is throned. + +DUKE ORSINO Thou dost speak masterly: + My life upon't, young though thou art, thine eye + Hath stay'd upon some favour that it loves: + Hath it not, boy? + +VIOLA A little, by your favour. + +DUKE ORSINO What kind of woman is't? + +VIOLA Of your complexion. + +DUKE ORSINO She is not worth thee, then. What years, i' faith? + +VIOLA About your years, my lord. + +DUKE ORSINO Too old by heaven: let still the woman take + An elder than herself: so wears she to him, + So sways she level in her husband's heart: + For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, + Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, + More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, + Than women's are. + +VIOLA I think it well, my lord. + +DUKE ORSINO Then let thy love be younger than thyself, + Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; + For women are as roses, whose fair flower + Being once display'd, doth fall that very hour. + +VIOLA And so they are: alas, that they are so; + To die, even when they to perfection grow! + + [Re-enter CURIO and Clown] + +DUKE ORSINO O, fellow, come, the song we had last night. + Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain; + The spinsters and the knitters in the sun + And the free maids that weave their thread with bones + Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, + And dallies with the innocence of love, + Like the old age. + +Clown Are you ready, sir? + +DUKE ORSINO Ay; prithee, sing. + + [Music] + + SONG. +Clown Come away, come away, death, + And in sad cypress let me be laid; + Fly away, fly away breath; + I am slain by a fair cruel maid. + My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, + O, prepare it! + My part of death, no one so true + Did share it. + Not a flower, not a flower sweet + On my black coffin let there be strown; + Not a friend, not a friend greet + My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: + A thousand thousand sighs to save, + Lay me, O, where + Sad true lover never find my grave, + To weep there! + +DUKE ORSINO There's for thy pains. + +Clown No pains, sir: I take pleasure in singing, sir. + +DUKE ORSINO I'll pay thy pleasure then. + +Clown Truly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, one time or another. + +DUKE ORSINO Give me now leave to leave thee. + +Clown Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the + tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for + thy mind is a very opal. I would have men of such + constancy put to sea, that their business might be + every thing and their intent every where; for that's + it that always makes a good voyage of nothing. Farewell. + + [Exit] + +DUKE ORSINO Let all the rest give place. + + [CURIO and Attendants retire] + + Once more, Cesario, + Get thee to yond same sovereign cruelty: + Tell her, my love, more noble than the world, + Prizes not quantity of dirty lands; + The parts that fortune hath bestow'd upon her, + Tell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; + But 'tis that miracle and queen of gems + That nature pranks her in attracts my soul. + +VIOLA But if she cannot love you, sir? + +DUKE ORSINO I cannot be so answer'd. + +VIOLA Sooth, but you must. + Say that some lady, as perhaps there is, + Hath for your love a great a pang of heart + As you have for Olivia: you cannot love her; + You tell her so; must she not then be answer'd? + +DUKE ORSINO There is no woman's sides + Can bide the beating of so strong a passion + As love doth give my heart; no woman's heart + So big, to hold so much; they lack retention + Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, + No motion of the liver, but the palate, + That suffer surfeit, cloyment and revolt; + But mine is all as hungry as the sea, + And can digest as much: make no compare + Between that love a woman can bear me + And that I owe Olivia. + +VIOLA Ay, but I know-- + +DUKE ORSINO What dost thou know? + +VIOLA Too well what love women to men may owe: + In faith, they are as true of heart as we. + My father had a daughter loved a man, + As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, + I should your lordship. + +DUKE ORSINO And what's her history? + +VIOLA A blank, my lord. She never told her love, + But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, + Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, + And with a green and yellow melancholy + She sat like patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + We men may say more, swear more: but indeed + Our shows are more than will; for still we prove + Much in our vows, but little in our love. + +DUKE ORSINO But died thy sister of her love, my boy? + +VIOLA I am all the daughters of my father's house, + And all the brothers too: and yet I know not. + Sir, shall I to this lady? + +DUKE ORSINO Ay, that's the theme. + To her in haste; give her this jewel; say, + My love can give no place, bide no denay. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V OLIVIA's garden. + + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come thy ways, Signior Fabian. + +FABIAN Nay, I'll come: if I lose a scruple of this sport, + let me be boiled to death with melancholy. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Wouldst thou not be glad to have the niggardly + rascally sheep-biter come by some notable shame? + +FABIAN I would exult, man: you know, he brought me out o' + favour with my lady about a bear-baiting here. + +SIR TOBY BELCH To anger him we'll have the bear again; and we will + fool him black and blue: shall we not, Sir Andrew? + +SIR ANDREW An we do not, it is pity of our lives. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Here comes the little villain. + + [Enter MARIA] + + How now, my metal of India! + +MARIA Get ye all three into the box-tree: Malvolio's + coming down this walk: he has been yonder i' the + sun practising behavior to his own shadow this half + hour: observe him, for the love of mockery; for I + know this letter will make a contemplative idiot of + him. Close, in the name of jesting! Lie thou there, + + [Throws down a letter] + + for here comes the trout that must be caught with tickling. + + [Exit] + + [Enter MALVOLIO] + +MALVOLIO 'Tis but fortune; all is fortune. Maria once told + me she did affect me: and I have heard herself come + thus near, that, should she fancy, it should be one + of my complexion. Besides, she uses me with a more + exalted respect than any one else that follows her. + What should I think on't? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Here's an overweening rogue! + +FABIAN O, peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock + of him: how he jets under his advanced plumes! + +SIR ANDREW 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, I say. + +MALVOLIO To be Count Malvolio! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Ah, rogue! + +SIR ANDREW Pistol him, pistol him. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Peace, peace! + +MALVOLIO There is example for't; the lady of the Strachy + married the yeoman of the wardrobe. + +SIR ANDREW Fie on him, Jezebel! + +FABIAN O, peace! now he's deeply in: look how + imagination blows him. + +MALVOLIO Having been three months married to her, sitting in + my state,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH O, for a stone-bow, to hit him in the eye! + +MALVOLIO Calling my officers about me, in my branched velvet + gown; having come from a day-bed, where I have left + Olivia sleeping,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH Fire and brimstone! + +FABIAN O, peace, peace! + +MALVOLIO And then to have the humour of state; and after a + demure travel of regard, telling them I know my + place as I would they should do theirs, to for my + kinsman Toby,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH Bolts and shackles! + +FABIAN O peace, peace, peace! now, now. + +MALVOLIO Seven of my people, with an obedient start, make + out for him: I frown the while; and perchance wind + up watch, or play with my--some rich jewel. Toby + approaches; courtesies there to me,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH Shall this fellow live? + +FABIAN Though our silence be drawn from us with cars, yet peace. + +MALVOLIO I extend my hand to him thus, quenching my familiar + smile with an austere regard of control,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH And does not Toby take you a blow o' the lips then? + +MALVOLIO Saying, 'Cousin Toby, my fortunes having cast me on + your niece give me this prerogative of speech,'-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH What, what? + +MALVOLIO 'You must amend your drunkenness.' + +SIR TOBY BELCH Out, scab! + +FABIAN Nay, patience, or we break the sinews of our plot. + +MALVOLIO 'Besides, you waste the treasure of your time with + a foolish knight,'-- + +SIR ANDREW That's me, I warrant you. + +MALVOLIO 'One Sir Andrew,'-- + +SIR ANDREW I knew 'twas I; for many do call me fool. + +MALVOLIO What employment have we here? + + [Taking up the letter] + +FABIAN Now is the woodcock near the gin. + +SIR TOBY BELCH O, peace! and the spirit of humour intimate reading + aloud to him! + +MALVOLIO By my life, this is my lady's hand these be her + very C's, her U's and her T's and thus makes she her + great P's. It is, in contempt of question, her hand. + +SIR ANDREW Her C's, her U's and her T's: why that? + +MALVOLIO [Reads] 'To the unknown beloved, this, and my good + wishes:'--her very phrases! By your leave, wax. + Soft! and the impressure her Lucrece, with which she + uses to seal: 'tis my lady. To whom should this be? + +FABIAN This wins him, liver and all. + +MALVOLIO [Reads] + + Jove knows I love: But who? + Lips, do not move; + No man must know. + 'No man must know.' What follows? the numbers + altered! 'No man must know:' if this should be + thee, Malvolio? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Marry, hang thee, brock! + +MALVOLIO [Reads] + I may command where I adore; + But silence, like a Lucrece knife, + With bloodless stroke my heart doth gore: + M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. + +FABIAN A fustian riddle! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Excellent wench, say I. + +MALVOLIO 'M, O, A, I, doth sway my life.' Nay, but first, let + me see, let me see, let me see. + +FABIAN What dish o' poison has she dressed him! + +SIR TOBY BELCH And with what wing the staniel cheques at it! + +MALVOLIO 'I may command where I adore.' Why, she may command + me: I serve her; she is my lady. Why, this is + evident to any formal capacity; there is no + obstruction in this: and the end,--what should + that alphabetical position portend? If I could make + that resemble something in me,--Softly! M, O, A, + I,-- + +SIR TOBY BELCH O, ay, make up that: he is now at a cold scent. + +FABIAN Sowter will cry upon't for all this, though it be as + rank as a fox. + +MALVOLIO M,--Malvolio; M,--why, that begins my name. + +FABIAN Did not I say he would work it out? the cur is + excellent at faults. + +MALVOLIO M,--but then there is no consonancy in the sequel; + that suffers under probation A should follow but O does. + +FABIAN And O shall end, I hope. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, or I'll cudgel him, and make him cry O! + +MALVOLIO And then I comes behind. + +FABIAN Ay, an you had any eye behind you, you might see + more detraction at your heels than fortunes before + you. + +MALVOLIO M, O, A, I; this simulation is not as the former: and + yet, to crush this a little, it would bow to me, for + every one of these letters are in my name. Soft! + here follows prose. + + [Reads] + + 'If this fall into thy hand, revolve. In my stars I + am above thee; but be not afraid of greatness: some + are born great, some achieve greatness, and some + have greatness thrust upon 'em. Thy Fates open + their hands; let thy blood and spirit embrace them; + and, to inure thyself to what thou art like to be, + cast thy humble slough and appear fresh. Be + opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; let + thy tongue tang arguments of state; put thyself into + the trick of singularity: she thus advises thee + that sighs for thee. Remember who commended thy + yellow stockings, and wished to see thee ever + cross-gartered: I say, remember. Go to, thou art + made, if thou desirest to be so; if not, let me see + thee a steward still, the fellow of servants, and + not worthy to touch Fortune's fingers. Farewell. + She that would alter services with thee, + THE FORTUNATE-UNHAPPY.' + Daylight and champaign discovers not more: this is + open. I will be proud, I will read politic authors, + I will baffle Sir Toby, I will wash off gross + acquaintance, I will be point-devise the very man. + I do not now fool myself, to let imagination jade + me; for every reason excites to this, that my lady + loves me. She did commend my yellow stockings of + late, she did praise my leg being cross-gartered; + and in this she manifests herself to my love, and + with a kind of injunction drives me to these habits + of her liking. I thank my stars I am happy. I will + be strange, stout, in yellow stockings, and + cross-gartered, even with the swiftness of putting + on. Jove and my stars be praised! Here is yet a + postscript. + + [Reads] + + 'Thou canst not choose but know who I am. If thou + entertainest my love, let it appear in thy smiling; + thy smiles become thee well; therefore in my + presence still smile, dear my sweet, I prithee.' + Jove, I thank thee: I will smile; I will do + everything that thou wilt have me. + + [Exit] + +FABIAN I will not give my part of this sport for a pension + of thousands to be paid from the Sophy. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I could marry this wench for this device. + +SIR ANDREW So could I too. + +SIR TOBY BELCH And ask no other dowry with her but such another jest. + +SIR ANDREW Nor I neither. + +FABIAN Here comes my noble gull-catcher. + + [Re-enter MARIA] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Wilt thou set thy foot o' my neck? + +SIR ANDREW Or o' mine either? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Shall I play my freedom at traytrip, and become thy + bond-slave? + +SIR ANDREW I' faith, or I either? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, thou hast put him in such a dream, that when + the image of it leaves him he must run mad. + +MARIA Nay, but say true; does it work upon him? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. + +MARIA If you will then see the fruits of the sport, mark + his first approach before my lady: he will come to + her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a colour she + abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; + and he will smile upon her, which will now be so + unsuitable to her disposition, being addicted to a + melancholy as she is, that it cannot but turn him + into a notable contempt. If you will see it, follow + me. + +SIR TOBY BELCH To the gates of Tartar, thou most excellent devil of wit! + +SIR ANDREW I'll make one too. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I OLIVIA's garden. + + + [Enter VIOLA, and Clown with a tabour] + +VIOLA Save thee, friend, and thy music: dost thou live by + thy tabour? + +Clown No, sir, I live by the church. + +VIOLA Art thou a churchman? + +Clown No such matter, sir: I do live by the church; for + I do live at my house, and my house doth stand by + the church. + +VIOLA So thou mayst say, the king lies by a beggar, if a + beggar dwell near him; or, the church stands by thy + tabour, if thy tabour stand by the church. + +Clown You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is + but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the + wrong side may be turned outward! + +VIOLA Nay, that's certain; they that dally nicely with + words may quickly make them wanton. + +Clown I would, therefore, my sister had had no name, sir. + +VIOLA Why, man? + +Clown Why, sir, her name's a word; and to dally with that + word might make my sister wanton. But indeed words + are very rascals since bonds disgraced them. + +VIOLA Thy reason, man? + +Clown Troth, sir, I can yield you none without words; and + words are grown so false, I am loath to prove + reason with them. + +VIOLA I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing. + +Clown Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my + conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be + to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible. + +VIOLA Art not thou the Lady Olivia's fool? + +Clown No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she + will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and + fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to + herrings; the husband's the bigger: I am indeed not + her fool, but her corrupter of words. + +VIOLA I saw thee late at the Count Orsino's. + +Clown Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun, + it shines every where. I would be sorry, sir, but + the fool should be as oft with your master as with + my mistress: I think I saw your wisdom there. + +VIOLA Nay, an thou pass upon me, I'll no more with thee. + Hold, there's expenses for thee. + +Clown Now Jove, in his next commodity of hair, send thee a beard! + +VIOLA By my troth, I'll tell thee, I am almost sick for + one; + + [Aside] + + though I would not have it grow on my chin. Is thy + lady within? + +Clown Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? + +VIOLA Yes, being kept together and put to use. + +Clown I would play Lord Pandarus of Phrygia, sir, to bring + a Cressida to this Troilus. + +VIOLA I understand you, sir; 'tis well begged. + +Clown The matter, I hope, is not great, sir, begging but + a beggar: Cressida was a beggar. My lady is + within, sir. I will construe to them whence you + come; who you are and what you would are out of my + welkin, I might say 'element,' but the word is over-worn. + + [Exit] + +VIOLA This fellow is wise enough to play the fool; + And to do that well craves a kind of wit: + He must observe their mood on whom he jests, + The quality of persons, and the time, + And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather + That comes before his eye. This is a practise + As full of labour as a wise man's art + For folly that he wisely shows is fit; + But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit. + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Save you, gentleman. + +VIOLA And you, sir. + +SIR ANDREW Dieu vous garde, monsieur. + +VIOLA Et vous aussi; votre serviteur. + +SIR ANDREW I hope, sir, you are; and I am yours. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Will you encounter the house? my niece is desirous + you should enter, if your trade be to her. + +VIOLA I am bound to your niece, sir; I mean, she is the + list of my voyage. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Taste your legs, sir; put them to motion. + +VIOLA My legs do better understand me, sir, than I + understand what you mean by bidding me taste my legs. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I mean, to go, sir, to enter. + +VIOLA I will answer you with gait and entrance. But we + are prevented. + + [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA] + + Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens rain + odours on you! + +SIR ANDREW That youth's a rare courtier: 'Rain odours;' well. + +VIOLA My matter hath no voice, to your own most pregnant + and vouchsafed ear. + +SIR ANDREW 'Odours,' 'pregnant' and 'vouchsafed:' I'll get 'em + all three all ready. + +OLIVIA Let the garden door be shut, and leave me to my hearing. + + [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and MARIA] + + Give me your hand, sir. + +VIOLA My duty, madam, and most humble service. + +OLIVIA What is your name? + +VIOLA Cesario is your servant's name, fair princess. + +OLIVIA My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry world + Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment: + You're servant to the Count Orsino, youth. + +VIOLA And he is yours, and his must needs be yours: + Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. + +OLIVIA For him, I think not on him: for his thoughts, + Would they were blanks, rather than fill'd with me! + +VIOLA Madam, I come to whet your gentle thoughts + On his behalf. + +OLIVIA O, by your leave, I pray you, + I bade you never speak again of him: + But, would you undertake another suit, + I had rather hear you to solicit that + Than music from the spheres. + +VIOLA Dear lady,-- + +OLIVIA Give me leave, beseech you. I did send, + After the last enchantment you did here, + A ring in chase of you: so did I abuse + Myself, my servant and, I fear me, you: + Under your hard construction must I sit, + To force that on you, in a shameful cunning, + Which you knew none of yours: what might you think? + Have you not set mine honour at the stake + And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoughts + That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiving + Enough is shown: a cypress, not a bosom, + Hideth my heart. So, let me hear you speak. + +VIOLA I pity you. + +OLIVIA That's a degree to love. + +VIOLA No, not a grize; for 'tis a vulgar proof, + That very oft we pity enemies. + +OLIVIA Why, then, methinks 'tis time to smile again. + O, world, how apt the poor are to be proud! + If one should be a prey, how much the better + To fall before the lion than the wolf! + + [Clock strikes] + + The clock upbraids me with the waste of time. + Be not afraid, good youth, I will not have you: + And yet, when wit and youth is come to harvest, + Your were is alike to reap a proper man: + There lies your way, due west. + +VIOLA Then westward-ho! Grace and good disposition + Attend your ladyship! + You'll nothing, madam, to my lord by me? + +OLIVIA Stay: + I prithee, tell me what thou thinkest of me. + +VIOLA That you do think you are not what you are. + +OLIVIA If I think so, I think the same of you. + +VIOLA Then think you right: I am not what I am. + +OLIVIA I would you were as I would have you be! + +VIOLA Would it be better, madam, than I am? + I wish it might, for now I am your fool. + +OLIVIA O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful + In the contempt and anger of his lip! + A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon + Than love that would seem hid: love's night is noon. + Cesario, by the roses of the spring, + By maidhood, honour, truth and every thing, + I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, + Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. + Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, + For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause, + But rather reason thus with reason fetter, + Love sought is good, but given unsought better. + +VIOLA By innocence I swear, and by my youth + I have one heart, one bosom and one truth, + And that no woman has; nor never none + Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. + And so adieu, good madam: never more + Will I my master's tears to you deplore. + +OLIVIA Yet come again; for thou perhaps mayst move + That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II OLIVIA's house. + + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] + +SIR ANDREW No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Thy reason, dear venom, give thy reason. + +FABIAN You must needs yield your reason, Sir Andrew. + +SIR ANDREW Marry, I saw your niece do more favours to the + count's serving-man than ever she bestowed upon me; + I saw't i' the orchard. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Did she see thee the while, old boy? tell me that. + +SIR ANDREW As plain as I see you now. + +FABIAN This was a great argument of love in her toward you. + +SIR ANDREW 'Slight, will you make an ass o' me? + +FABIAN I will prove it legitimate, sir, upon the oaths of + judgment and reason. + +SIR TOBY BELCH And they have been grand-jury-men since before Noah + was a sailor. + +FABIAN She did show favour to the youth in your sight only + to exasperate you, to awake your dormouse valour, to + put fire in your heart and brimstone in your liver. + You should then have accosted her; and with some + excellent jests, fire-new from the mint, you should + have banged the youth into dumbness. This was + looked for at your hand, and this was balked: the + double gilt of this opportunity you let time wash + off, and you are now sailed into the north of my + lady's opinion; where you will hang like an icicle + on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do redeem it by + some laudable attempt either of valour or policy. + +SIR ANDREW An't be any way, it must be with valour; for policy + I hate: I had as lief be a Brownist as a + politician. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, then, build me thy fortunes upon the basis of + valour. Challenge me the count's youth to fight + with him; hurt him in eleven places: my niece shall + take note of it; and assure thyself, there is no + love-broker in the world can more prevail in man's + commendation with woman than report of valour. + +FABIAN There is no way but this, Sir Andrew. + +SIR ANDREW Will either of you bear me a challenge to him? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Go, write it in a martial hand; be curst and brief; + it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun + of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: + if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be + amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of + paper, although the sheet were big enough for the + bed of Ware in England, set 'em down: go, about it. + Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou + write with a goose-pen, no matter: about it. + +SIR ANDREW Where shall I find you? + +SIR TOBY BELCH We'll call thee at the cubiculo: go. + + [Exit SIR ANDREW] + +FABIAN This is a dear manikin to you, Sir Toby. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I have been dear to him, lad, some two thousand + strong, or so. + +FABIAN We shall have a rare letter from him: but you'll + not deliver't? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Never trust me, then; and by all means stir on the + youth to an answer. I think oxen and wainropes + cannot hale them together. For Andrew, if he were + opened, and you find so much blood in his liver as + will clog the foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of + the anatomy. + +FABIAN And his opposite, the youth, bears in his visage no + great presage of cruelty. + + [Enter MARIA] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Look, where the youngest wren of nine comes. + +MARIA If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself + into stitches, follow me. Yond gull Malvolio is + turned heathen, a very renegado; for there is no + Christian, that means to be saved by believing + rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages + of grossness. He's in yellow stockings. + +SIR TOBY BELCH And cross-gartered? + +MARIA Most villanously; like a pedant that keeps a school + i' the church. I have dogged him, like his + murderer. He does obey every point of the letter + that I dropped to betray him: he does smile his + face into more lines than is in the new map with the + augmentation of the Indies: you have not seen such + a thing as 'tis. I can hardly forbear hurling things + at him. I know my lady will strike him: if she do, + he'll smile and take't for a great favour. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come, bring us, bring us where he is. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A street. + + + [Enter SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] + +SEBASTIAN I would not by my will have troubled you; + But, since you make your pleasure of your pains, + I will no further chide you. + +ANTONIO I could not stay behind you: my desire, + More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth; + And not all love to see you, though so much + As might have drawn one to a longer voyage, + But jealousy what might befall your travel, + Being skilless in these parts; which to a stranger, + Unguided and unfriended, often prove + Rough and unhospitable: my willing love, + The rather by these arguments of fear, + Set forth in your pursuit. + +SEBASTIAN My kind Antonio, + I can no other answer make but thanks, + And thanks; and ever [ ] oft good turns + Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay: + But, were my worth as is my conscience firm, + You should find better dealing. What's to do? + Shall we go see the reliques of this town? + +ANTONIO To-morrow, sir: best first go see your lodging. + +SEBASTIAN I am not weary, and 'tis long to night: + I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes + With the memorials and the things of fame + That do renown this city. + +ANTONIO Would you'ld pardon me; + I do not without danger walk these streets: + Once, in a sea-fight, 'gainst the count his galleys + I did some service; of such note indeed, + That were I ta'en here it would scarce be answer'd. + +SEBASTIAN Belike you slew great number of his people. + +ANTONIO The offence is not of such a bloody nature; + Albeit the quality of the time and quarrel + Might well have given us bloody argument. + It might have since been answer'd in repaying + What we took from them; which, for traffic's sake, + Most of our city did: only myself stood out; + For which, if I be lapsed in this place, + I shall pay dear. + +SEBASTIAN Do not then walk too open. + +ANTONIO It doth not fit me. Hold, sir, here's my purse. + In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, + Is best to lodge: I will bespeak our diet, + Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge + With viewing of the town: there shall you have me. + +SEBASTIAN Why I your purse? + +ANTONIO Haply your eye shall light upon some toy + You have desire to purchase; and your store, + I think, is not for idle markets, sir. + +SEBASTIAN I'll be your purse-bearer and leave you + For an hour. + +ANTONIO To the Elephant. + +SEBASTIAN I do remember. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV OLIVIA's garden. + + + [Enter OLIVIA and MARIA] + +OLIVIA I have sent after him: he says he'll come; + How shall I feast him? what bestow of him? + For youth is bought more oft than begg'd or borrow'd. + I speak too loud. + Where is Malvolio? he is sad and civil, + And suits well for a servant with my fortunes: + Where is Malvolio? + +MARIA He's coming, madam; but in very strange manner. He + is, sure, possessed, madam. + +OLIVIA Why, what's the matter? does he rave? + +MARIA No. madam, he does nothing but smile: your + ladyship were best to have some guard about you, if + he come; for, sure, the man is tainted in's wits. + +OLIVIA Go call him hither. + + [Exit MARIA] + + I am as mad as he, + If sad and merry madness equal be. + + [Re-enter MARIA, with MALVOLIO] + + How now, Malvolio! + +MALVOLIO Sweet lady, ho, ho. + +OLIVIA Smilest thou? + I sent for thee upon a sad occasion. + +MALVOLIO Sad, lady! I could be sad: this does make some + obstruction in the blood, this cross-gartering; but + what of that? if it please the eye of one, it is + with me as the very true sonnet is, 'Please one, and + please all.' + +OLIVIA Why, how dost thou, man? what is the matter with thee? + +MALVOLIO Not black in my mind, though yellow in my legs. It + did come to his hands, and commands shall be + executed: I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. + +OLIVIA Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? + +MALVOLIO To bed! ay, sweet-heart, and I'll come to thee. + +OLIVIA God comfort thee! Why dost thou smile so and kiss + thy hand so oft? + +MARIA How do you, Malvolio? + +MALVOLIO At your request! yes; nightingales answer daws. + +MARIA Why appear you with this ridiculous boldness before my lady? + +MALVOLIO 'Be not afraid of greatness:' 'twas well writ. + +OLIVIA What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? + +MALVOLIO 'Some are born great,'-- + +OLIVIA Ha! + +MALVOLIO 'Some achieve greatness,'-- + +OLIVIA What sayest thou? + +MALVOLIO 'And some have greatness thrust upon them.' + +OLIVIA Heaven restore thee! + +MALVOLIO 'Remember who commended thy yellow stockings,'-- + +OLIVIA Thy yellow stockings! + +MALVOLIO 'And wished to see thee cross-gartered.' + +OLIVIA Cross-gartered! + +MALVOLIO 'Go to thou art made, if thou desirest to be so;'-- + +OLIVIA Am I made? + +MALVOLIO 'If not, let me see thee a servant still.' + +OLIVIA Why, this is very midsummer madness. + + [Enter Servant] + +Servant Madam, the young gentleman of the Count Orsino's is + returned: I could hardly entreat him back: he + attends your ladyship's pleasure. + +OLIVIA I'll come to him. + + [Exit Servant] + + Good Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's + my cousin Toby? Let some of my people have a special + care of him: I would not have him miscarry for the + half of my dowry. + + [Exeunt OLIVIA and MARIA] + +MALVOLIO O, ho! do you come near me now? no worse man than + Sir Toby to look to me! This concurs directly with + the letter: she sends him on purpose, that I may + appear stubborn to him; for she incites me to that + in the letter. 'Cast thy humble slough,' says she; + 'be opposite with a kinsman, surly with servants; + let thy tongue tang with arguments of state; put + thyself into the trick of singularity;' and + consequently sets down the manner how; as, a sad + face, a reverend carriage, a slow tongue, in the + habit of some sir of note, and so forth. I have + limed her; but it is Jove's doing, and Jove make me + thankful! And when she went away now, 'Let this + fellow be looked to:' fellow! not Malvolio, nor + after my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing + adheres together, that no dram of a scruple, no + scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredulous + or unsafe circumstance--What can be said? Nothing + that can be can come between me and the full + prospect of my hopes. Well, Jove, not I, is the + doer of this, and he is to be thanked. + + [Re-enter MARIA, with SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Which way is he, in the name of sanctity? If all + the devils of hell be drawn in little, and Legion + himself possessed him, yet I'll speak to him. + +FABIAN Here he is, here he is. How is't with you, sir? + how is't with you, man? + +MALVOLIO Go off; I discard you: let me enjoy my private: go + off. + +MARIA Lo, how hollow the fiend speaks within him! did not + I tell you? Sir Toby, my lady prays you to have a + care of him. + +MALVOLIO Ah, ha! does she so? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Go to, go to; peace, peace; we must deal gently + with him: let me alone. How do you, Malvolio? how + is't with you? What, man! defy the devil: + consider, he's an enemy to mankind. + +MALVOLIO Do you know what you say? + +MARIA La you, an you speak ill of the devil, how he takes + it at heart! Pray God, he be not bewitched! + +FABIAN Carry his water to the wise woman. + +MARIA Marry, and it shall be done to-morrow morning, if I + live. My lady would not lose him for more than I'll say. + +MALVOLIO How now, mistress! + +MARIA O Lord! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Prithee, hold thy peace; this is not the way: do + you not see you move him? let me alone with him. + +FABIAN No way but gentleness; gently, gently: the fiend is + rough, and will not be roughly used. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, how now, my bawcock! how dost thou, chuck? + +MALVOLIO Sir! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, man! 'tis not for + gravity to play at cherry-pit with Satan: hang + him, foul collier! + +MARIA Get him to say his prayers, good Sir Toby, get him to pray. + +MALVOLIO My prayers, minx! + +MARIA No, I warrant you, he will not hear of godliness. + +MALVOLIO Go, hang yourselves all! you are idle shallow + things: I am not of your element: you shall know + more hereafter. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Is't possible? + +FABIAN If this were played upon a stage now, I could + condemn it as an improbable fiction. + +SIR TOBY BELCH His very genius hath taken the infection of the device, man. + +MARIA Nay, pursue him now, lest the device take air and taint. + +FABIAN Why, we shall make him mad indeed. + +MARIA The house will be the quieter. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come, we'll have him in a dark room and bound. My + niece is already in the belief that he's mad: we + may carry it thus, for our pleasure and his penance, + till our very pastime, tired out of breath, prompt + us to have mercy on him: at which time we will + bring the device to the bar and crown thee for a + finder of madmen. But see, but see. + + [Enter SIR ANDREW] + +FABIAN More matter for a May morning. + +SIR ANDREW Here's the challenge, read it: warrant there's + vinegar and pepper in't. + +FABIAN Is't so saucy? + +SIR ANDREW Ay, is't, I warrant him: do but read. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Give me. + + [Reads] + + 'Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.' + +FABIAN Good, and valiant. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, + why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.' + +FABIAN A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou comest to the lady Olivia, and in my + sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy + throat; that is not the matter I challenge thee for.' + +FABIAN Very brief, and to exceeding good sense--less. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'I will waylay thee going home; where if it + be thy chance to kill me,'-- + +FABIAN Good. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.' + +FABIAN Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: good. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [Reads] 'Fare thee well; and God have mercy upon + one of our souls! He may have mercy upon mine; but + my hope is better, and so look to thyself. Thy + friend, as thou usest him, and thy sworn enemy, + ANDREW AGUECHEEK. + If this letter move him not, his legs cannot: + I'll give't him. + +MARIA You may have very fit occasion for't: he is now in + some commerce with my lady, and will by and by depart. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Go, Sir Andrew: scout me for him at the corner the + orchard like a bum-baily: so soon as ever thou seest + him, draw; and, as thou drawest swear horrible; for + it comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a + swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood + more approbation than ever proof itself would have + earned him. Away! + +SIR ANDREW Nay, let me alone for swearing. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Now will not I deliver his letter: for the behavior + of the young gentleman gives him out to be of good + capacity and breeding; his employment between his + lord and my niece confirms no less: therefore this + letter, being so excellently ignorant, will breed no + terror in the youth: he will find it comes from a + clodpole. But, sir, I will deliver his challenge by + word of mouth; set upon Aguecheek a notable report + of valour; and drive the gentleman, as I know his + youth will aptly receive it, into a most hideous + opinion of his rage, skill, fury and impetuosity. + This will so fright them both that they will kill + one another by the look, like cockatrices. + + [Re-enter OLIVIA, with VIOLA] + +FABIAN Here he comes with your niece: give them way till + he take leave, and presently after him. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I will meditate the while upon some horrid message + for a challenge. + + [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, FABIAN, and MARIA] + +OLIVIA I have said too much unto a heart of stone + And laid mine honour too unchary out: + There's something in me that reproves my fault; + But such a headstrong potent fault it is, + That it but mocks reproof. + +VIOLA With the same 'havior that your passion bears + Goes on my master's grief. + +OLIVIA Here, wear this jewel for me, 'tis my picture; + Refuse it not; it hath no tongue to vex you; + And I beseech you come again to-morrow. + What shall you ask of me that I'll deny, + That honour saved may upon asking give? + +VIOLA Nothing but this; your true love for my master. + +OLIVIA How with mine honour may I give him that + Which I have given to you? + +VIOLA I will acquit you. + +OLIVIA Well, come again to-morrow: fare thee well: + A fiend like thee might bear my soul to hell. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH and FABIAN] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Gentleman, God save thee. + +VIOLA And you, sir. + +SIR TOBY BELCH That defence thou hast, betake thee to't: of what + nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I know + not; but thy intercepter, full of despite, bloody as + the hunter, attends thee at the orchard-end: + dismount thy tuck, be yare in thy preparation, for + thy assailant is quick, skilful and deadly. + +VIOLA You mistake, sir; I am sure no man hath any quarrel + to me: my remembrance is very free and clear from + any image of offence done to any man. + +SIR TOBY BELCH You'll find it otherwise, I assure you: therefore, + if you hold your life at any price, betake you to + your guard; for your opposite hath in him what + youth, strength, skill and wrath can furnish man withal. + +VIOLA I pray you, sir, what is he? + +SIR TOBY BELCH He is knight, dubbed with unhatched rapier and on + carpet consideration; but he is a devil in private + brawl: souls and bodies hath he divorced three; and + his incensement at this moment is so implacable, + that satisfaction can be none but by pangs of death + and sepulchre. Hob, nob, is his word; give't or take't. + +VIOLA I will return again into the house and desire some + conduct of the lady. I am no fighter. I have heard + of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on + others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man + of that quirk. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Sir, no; his indignation derives itself out of a + very competent injury: therefore, get you on and + give him his desire. Back you shall not to the + house, unless you undertake that with me which with + as much safety you might answer him: therefore, on, + or strip your sword stark naked; for meddle you + must, that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about you. + +VIOLA This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech you, do me + this courteous office, as to know of the knight what + my offence to him is: it is something of my + negligence, nothing of my purpose. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay you by this + gentleman till my return. + + [Exit] + +VIOLA Pray you, sir, do you know of this matter? + +FABIAN I know the knight is incensed against you, even to a + mortal arbitrement; but nothing of the circumstance more. + +VIOLA I beseech you, what manner of man is he? + +FABIAN Nothing of that wonderful promise, to read him by + his form, as you are like to find him in the proof + of his valour. He is, indeed, sir, the most skilful, + bloody and fatal opposite that you could possibly + have found in any part of Illyria. Will you walk + towards him? I will make your peace with him if I + can. + +VIOLA I shall be much bound to you for't: I am one that + had rather go with sir priest than sir knight: I + care not who knows so much of my mettle. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter SIR TOBY BELCH, with SIR ANDREW] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Why, man, he's a very devil; I have not seen such a + firago. I had a pass with him, rapier, scabbard and + all, and he gives me the stuck in with such a mortal + motion, that it is inevitable; and on the answer, he + pays you as surely as your feet hit the ground they + step on. They say he has been fencer to the Sophy. + +SIR ANDREW Pox on't, I'll not meddle with him. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Ay, but he will not now be pacified: Fabian can + scarce hold him yonder. + +SIR ANDREW Plague on't, an I thought he had been valiant and so + cunning in fence, I'ld have seen him damned ere I'ld + have challenged him. Let him let the matter slip, + and I'll give him my horse, grey Capilet. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I'll make the motion: stand here, make a good show + on't: this shall end without the perdition of souls. + + [Aside] + + Marry, I'll ride your horse as well as I ride you. + + [Re-enter FABIAN and VIOLA] + + [To FABIAN] + + I have his horse to take up the quarrel: + I have persuaded him the youth's a devil. + +FABIAN He is as horribly conceited of him; and pants and + looks pale, as if a bear were at his heels. + +SIR TOBY BELCH [To VIOLA] There's no remedy, sir; he will fight + with you for's oath sake: marry, he hath better + bethought him of his quarrel, and he finds that now + scarce to be worth talking of: therefore draw, for + the supportance of his vow; he protests he will not hurt you. + +VIOLA [Aside] Pray God defend me! A little thing would + make me tell them how much I lack of a man. + +FABIAN Give ground, if you see him furious. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come, Sir Andrew, there's no remedy; the gentleman + will, for his honour's sake, have one bout with you; + he cannot by the duello avoid it: but he has + promised me, as he is a gentleman and a soldier, he + will not hurt you. Come on; to't. + +SIR ANDREW Pray God, he keep his oath! + +VIOLA I do assure you, 'tis against my will. + + [They draw] + + [Enter ANTONIO] + +ANTONIO Put up your sword. If this young gentleman + Have done offence, I take the fault on me: + If you offend him, I for him defy you. + +SIR TOBY BELCH You, sir! why, what are you? + +ANTONIO One, sir, that for his love dares yet do more + Than you have heard him brag to you he will. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am for you. + + [They draw] + + [Enter Officers] + +FABIAN O good Sir Toby, hold! here come the officers. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I'll be with you anon. + +VIOLA Pray, sir, put your sword up, if you please. + +SIR ANDREW Marry, will I, sir; and, for that I promised you, + I'll be as good as my word: he will bear you easily + and reins well. + +First Officer This is the man; do thy office. + +Second Officer Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino. + +ANTONIO You do mistake me, sir. + +First Officer No, sir, no jot; I know your favour well, + Though now you have no sea-cap on your head. + Take him away: he knows I know him well. + +ANTONIO I must obey. + + [To VIOLA] + + This comes with seeking you: + But there's no remedy; I shall answer it. + What will you do, now my necessity + Makes me to ask you for my purse? It grieves me + Much more for what I cannot do for you + Than what befalls myself. You stand amazed; + But be of comfort. + +Second Officer Come, sir, away. + +ANTONIO I must entreat of you some of that money. + +VIOLA What money, sir? + For the fair kindness you have show'd me here, + And, part, being prompted by your present trouble, + Out of my lean and low ability + I'll lend you something: my having is not much; + I'll make division of my present with you: + Hold, there's half my coffer. + +ANTONIO Will you deny me now? + Is't possible that my deserts to you + Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, + Lest that it make me so unsound a man + As to upbraid you with those kindnesses + That I have done for you. + +VIOLA I know of none; + Nor know I you by voice or any feature: + I hate ingratitude more in a man + Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, + Or any taint of vice whose strong corruption + Inhabits our frail blood. + +ANTONIO O heavens themselves! + +Second Officer Come, sir, I pray you, go. + +ANTONIO Let me speak a little. This youth that you see here + I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death, + Relieved him with such sanctity of love, + And to his image, which methought did promise + Most venerable worth, did I devotion. + +First Officer What's that to us? The time goes by: away! + +ANTONIO But O how vile an idol proves this god + Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature shame. + In nature there's no blemish but the mind; + None can be call'd deform'd but the unkind: + Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil + Are empty trunks o'erflourish'd by the devil. + +First Officer The man grows mad: away with him! Come, come, sir. + +ANTONIO Lead me on. + + [Exit with Officers] + +VIOLA Methinks his words do from such passion fly, + That he believes himself: so do not I. + Prove true, imagination, O, prove true, + That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come hither, knight; come hither, Fabian: we'll + whisper o'er a couplet or two of most sage saws. + +VIOLA He named Sebastian: I my brother know + Yet living in my glass; even such and so + In favour was my brother, and he went + Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, + For him I imitate: O, if it prove, + Tempests are kind and salt waves fresh in love. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward than + a hare: his dishonesty appears in leaving his + friend here in necessity and denying him; and for + his cowardship, ask Fabian. + +FABIAN A coward, a most devout coward, religious in it. + +SIR ANDREW 'Slid, I'll after him again and beat him. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Do; cuff him soundly, but never draw thy sword. + +SIR ANDREW An I do not,-- + +FABIAN Come, let's see the event. + +SIR TOBY BELCH I dare lay any money 'twill be nothing yet. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house. + + + [Enter SEBASTIAN and Clown] + +Clown Will you make me believe that I am not sent for you? + +SEBASTIAN Go to, go to, thou art a foolish fellow: + Let me be clear of thee. + +Clown Well held out, i' faith! No, I do not know you; nor + I am not sent to you by my lady, to bid you come + speak with her; nor your name is not Master Cesario; + nor this is not my nose neither. Nothing that is so is so. + +SEBASTIAN I prithee, vent thy folly somewhere else: Thou + know'st not me. + +Clown Vent my folly! he has heard that word of some + great man and now applies it to a fool. Vent my + folly! I am afraid this great lubber, the world, + will prove a cockney. I prithee now, ungird thy + strangeness and tell me what I shall vent to my + lady: shall I vent to her that thou art coming? + +SEBASTIAN I prithee, foolish Greek, depart from me: There's + money for thee: if you tarry longer, I shall give + worse payment. + +Clown By my troth, thou hast an open hand. These wise men + that give fools money get themselves a good + report--after fourteen years' purchase. + + [Enter SIR ANDREW, SIR TOBY BELCH, and FABIAN] + +SIR ANDREW Now, sir, have I met you again? there's for you. + +SEBASTIAN Why, there's for thee, and there, and there. Are all + the people mad? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house. + +Clown This will I tell my lady straight: I would not be + in some of your coats for two pence. + + [Exit] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come on, sir; hold. + +SIR ANDREW Nay, let him alone: I'll go another way to work + with him; I'll have an action of battery against + him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I + struck him first, yet it's no matter for that. + +SEBASTIAN Let go thy hand. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Come, sir, I will not let you go. Come, my young + soldier, put up your iron: you are well fleshed; come on. + +SEBASTIAN I will be free from thee. What wouldst thou now? If + thou darest tempt me further, draw thy sword. + +SIR TOBY BELCH What, what? Nay, then I must have an ounce or two + of this malapert blood from you. + + [Enter OLIVIA] + +OLIVIA Hold, Toby; on thy life I charge thee, hold! + +SIR TOBY BELCH Madam! + +OLIVIA Will it be ever thus? Ungracious wretch, + Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, + Where manners ne'er were preach'd! out of my sight! + Be not offended, dear Cesario. + Rudesby, be gone! + + [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH, SIR ANDREW, and FABIAN] + + I prithee, gentle friend, + Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway + In this uncivil and thou unjust extent + Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, + And hear thou there how many fruitless pranks + This ruffian hath botch'd up, that thou thereby + Mayst smile at this: thou shalt not choose but go: + Do not deny. Beshrew his soul for me, + He started one poor heart of mine in thee. + +SEBASTIAN What relish is in this? how runs the stream? + Or I am mad, or else this is a dream: + Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep; + If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! + +OLIVIA Nay, come, I prithee; would thou'ldst be ruled by me! + +SEBASTIAN Madam, I will. + +OLIVIA O, say so, and so be! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II OLIVIA's house. + + + [Enter MARIA and Clown] + +MARIA Nay, I prithee, put on this gown and this beard; + make him believe thou art Sir Topas the curate: do + it quickly; I'll call Sir Toby the whilst. + + [Exit] + +Clown Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissemble myself + in't; and I would I were the first that ever + dissembled in such a gown. I am not tall enough to + become the function well, nor lean enough to be + thought a good student; but to be said an honest man + and a good housekeeper goes as fairly as to say a + careful man and a great scholar. The competitors enter. + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] + +SIR TOBY BELCH Jove bless thee, master Parson. + +Clown Bonos dies, Sir Toby: for, as the old hermit of + Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily + said to a niece of King Gorboduc, 'That that is is;' + so I, being Master Parson, am Master Parson; for, + what is 'that' but 'that,' and 'is' but 'is'? + +SIR TOBY BELCH To him, Sir Topas. + +Clown What, ho, I say! peace in this prison! + +SIR TOBY BELCH The knave counterfeits well; a good knave. + +MALVOLIO [Within] Who calls there? + +Clown Sir Topas the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio + the lunatic. + +MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. + +Clown Out, hyperbolical fiend! how vexest thou this man! + talkest thou nothing but of ladies? + +SIR TOBY BELCH Well said, Master Parson. + +MALVOLIO Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged: good Sir + Topas, do not think I am mad: they have laid me + here in hideous darkness. + +Clown Fie, thou dishonest Satan! I call thee by the most + modest terms; for I am one of those gentle ones + that will use the devil himself with courtesy: + sayest thou that house is dark? + +MALVOLIO As hell, Sir Topas. + +Clown Why it hath bay windows transparent as barricadoes, + and the clearstores toward the south north are as + lustrous as ebony; and yet complainest thou of + obstruction? + +MALVOLIO I am not mad, Sir Topas: I say to you, this house is dark. + +Clown Madman, thou errest: I say, there is no darkness + but ignorance; in which thou art more puzzled than + the Egyptians in their fog. + +MALVOLIO I say, this house is as dark as ignorance, though + ignorance were as dark as hell; and I say, there + was never man thus abused. I am no more mad than you + are: make the trial of it in any constant question. + +Clown What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild fowl? + +MALVOLIO That the soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird. + +Clown What thinkest thou of his opinion? + +MALVOLIO I think nobly of the soul, and no way approve his opinion. + +Clown Fare thee well. Remain thou still in darkness: + thou shalt hold the opinion of Pythagoras ere I will + allow of thy wits, and fear to kill a woodcock, lest + thou dispossess the soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. + +MALVOLIO Sir Topas, Sir Topas! + +SIR TOBY BELCH My most exquisite Sir Topas! + +Clown Nay, I am for all waters. + +MARIA Thou mightst have done this without thy beard and + gown: he sees thee not. + +SIR TOBY BELCH To him in thine own voice, and bring me word how + thou findest him: I would we were well rid of this + knavery. If he may be conveniently delivered, I + would he were, for I am now so far in offence with + my niece that I cannot pursue with any safety this + sport to the upshot. Come by and by to my chamber. + + [Exeunt SIR TOBY BELCH and MARIA] + +Clown [Singing] + + 'Hey, Robin, jolly Robin, + Tell me how thy lady does.' + +MALVOLIO Fool! + +Clown 'My lady is unkind, perdy.' + +MALVOLIO Fool! + +Clown 'Alas, why is she so?' + +MALVOLIO Fool, I say! + +Clown 'She loves another'--Who calls, ha? + +MALVOLIO Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve well at my + hand, help me to a candle, and pen, ink and paper: + as I am a gentleman, I will live to be thankful to + thee for't. + +Clown Master Malvolio? + +MALVOLIO Ay, good fool. + +Clown Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? + +MALVOLIO Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused: I + am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. + +Clown But as well? then you are mad indeed, if you be no + better in your wits than a fool. + +MALVOLIO They have here propertied me; keep me in darkness, + send ministers to me, asses, and do all they can to + face me out of my wits. + +Clown Advise you what you say; the minister is here. + Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore! + endeavour thyself to sleep, and leave thy vain + bibble babble. + +MALVOLIO Sir Topas! + +Clown Maintain no words with him, good fellow. Who, I, + sir? not I, sir. God be wi' you, good Sir Topas. + Merry, amen. I will, sir, I will. + +MALVOLIO Fool, fool, fool, I say! + +Clown Alas, sir, be patient. What say you sir? I am + shent for speaking to you. + +MALVOLIO Good fool, help me to some light and some paper: I + tell thee, I am as well in my wits as any man in Illyria. + +Clown Well-a-day that you were, sir + +MALVOLIO By this hand, I am. Good fool, some ink, paper and + light; and convey what I will set down to my lady: + it shall advantage thee more than ever the bearing + of letter did. + +Clown I will help you to't. But tell me true, are you + not mad indeed? or do you but counterfeit? + +MALVOLIO Believe me, I am not; I tell thee true. + +Clown Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman till I see his + brains. I will fetch you light and paper and ink. + +MALVOLIO Fool, I'll requite it in the highest degree: I + prithee, be gone. + +Clown [Singing] + + I am gone, sir, + And anon, sir, + I'll be with you again, + In a trice, + Like to the old Vice, + Your need to sustain; + Who, with dagger of lath, + In his rage and his wrath, + Cries, ah, ha! to the devil: + Like a mad lad, + Pare thy nails, dad; + Adieu, good man devil. + + [Exit] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III OLIVIA's garden. + + + [Enter SEBASTIAN] + +SEBASTIAN This is the air; that is the glorious sun; + This pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see't; + And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me thus, + Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio, then? + I could not find him at the Elephant: + Yet there he was; and there I found this credit, + That he did range the town to seek me out. + His counsel now might do me golden service; + For though my soul disputes well with my sense, + That this may be some error, but no madness, + Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune + So far exceed all instance, all discourse, + That I am ready to distrust mine eyes + And wrangle with my reason that persuades me + To any other trust but that I am mad + Or else the lady's mad; yet, if 'twere so, + She could not sway her house, command her followers, + Take and give back affairs and their dispatch + With such a smooth, discreet and stable bearing + As I perceive she does: there's something in't + That is deceiveable. But here the lady comes. + + [Enter OLIVIA and Priest] + +OLIVIA Blame not this haste of mine. If you mean well, + Now go with me and with this holy man + Into the chantry by: there, before him, + And underneath that consecrated roof, + Plight me the full assurance of your faith; + That my most jealous and too doubtful soul + May live at peace. He shall conceal it + Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, + What time we will our celebration keep + According to my birth. What do you say? + +SEBASTIAN I'll follow this good man, and go with you; + And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. + +OLIVIA Then lead the way, good father; and heavens so shine, + That they may fairly note this act of mine! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TWELFTH NIGHT + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Before OLIVIA's house. + + + [Enter Clown and FABIAN] + +FABIAN Now, as thou lovest me, let me see his letter. + +Clown Good Master Fabian, grant me another request. + +FABIAN Any thing. + +Clown Do not desire to see this letter. + +FABIAN This is, to give a dog, and in recompense desire my + dog again. + + [Enter DUKE ORSINO, VIOLA, CURIO, and Lords] + +DUKE ORSINO Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends? + +Clown Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings. + +DUKE ORSINO I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow? + +Clown Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse + for my friends. + +DUKE ORSINO Just the contrary; the better for thy friends. + +Clown No, sir, the worse. + +DUKE ORSINO How can that be? + +Clown Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me; + now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by + my foes, sir I profit in the knowledge of myself, + and by my friends, I am abused: so that, + conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives + make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for + my friends and the better for my foes. + +DUKE ORSINO Why, this is excellent. + +Clown By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be + one of my friends. + +DUKE ORSINO Thou shalt not be the worse for me: there's gold. + +Clown But that it would be double-dealing, sir, I would + you could make it another. + +DUKE ORSINO O, you give me ill counsel. + +Clown Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for this once, + and let your flesh and blood obey it. + +DUKE ORSINO Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a + double-dealer: there's another. + +Clown Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play; and the old + saying is, the third pays for all: the triplex, + sir, is a good tripping measure; or the bells of + Saint Bennet, sir, may put you in mind; one, two, three. + +DUKE ORSINO You can fool no more money out of me at this throw: + if you will let your lady know I am here to speak + with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake + my bounty further. + +Clown Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty till I come + again. I go, sir; but I would not have you to think + that my desire of having is the sin of covetousness: + but, as you say, sir, let your bounty take a nap, I + will awake it anon. + + [Exit] + +VIOLA Here comes the man, sir, that did rescue me. + + [Enter ANTONIO and Officers] + +DUKE ORSINO That face of his I do remember well; + Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd + As black as Vulcan in the smoke of war: + A bawbling vessel was he captain of, + For shallow draught and bulk unprizable; + With which such scathful grapple did he make + With the most noble bottom of our fleet, + That very envy and the tongue of loss + Cried fame and honour on him. What's the matter? + +First Officer Orsino, this is that Antonio + That took the Phoenix and her fraught from Candy; + And this is he that did the Tiger board, + When your young nephew Titus lost his leg: + Here in the streets, desperate of shame and state, + In private brabble did we apprehend him. + +VIOLA He did me kindness, sir, drew on my side; + But in conclusion put strange speech upon me: + I know not what 'twas but distraction. + +DUKE ORSINO Notable pirate! thou salt-water thief! + What foolish boldness brought thee to their mercies, + Whom thou, in terms so bloody and so dear, + Hast made thine enemies? + +ANTONIO Orsino, noble sir, + Be pleased that I shake off these names you give me: + Antonio never yet was thief or pirate, + Though I confess, on base and ground enough, + Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither: + That most ingrateful boy there by your side, + From the rude sea's enraged and foamy mouth + Did I redeem; a wreck past hope he was: + His life I gave him and did thereto add + My love, without retention or restraint, + All his in dedication; for his sake + Did I expose myself, pure for his love, + Into the danger of this adverse town; + Drew to defend him when he was beset: + Where being apprehended, his false cunning, + Not meaning to partake with me in danger, + Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, + And grew a twenty years removed thing + While one would wink; denied me mine own purse, + Which I had recommended to his use + Not half an hour before. + +VIOLA How can this be? + +DUKE ORSINO When came he to this town? + +ANTONIO To-day, my lord; and for three months before, + No interim, not a minute's vacancy, + Both day and night did we keep company. + + [Enter OLIVIA and Attendants] + +DUKE ORSINO Here comes the countess: now heaven walks on earth. + But for thee, fellow; fellow, thy words are madness: + Three months this youth hath tended upon me; + But more of that anon. Take him aside. + +OLIVIA What would my lord, but that he may not have, + Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable? + Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. + +VIOLA Madam! + +DUKE ORSINO Gracious Olivia,-- + +OLIVIA What do you say, Cesario? Good my lord,-- + +VIOLA My lord would speak; my duty hushes me. + +OLIVIA If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, + It is as fat and fulsome to mine ear + As howling after music. + +DUKE ORSINO Still so cruel? + +OLIVIA Still so constant, lord. + +DUKE ORSINO What, to perverseness? you uncivil lady, + To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars + My soul the faithfull'st offerings hath breathed out + That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? + +OLIVIA Even what it please my lord, that shall become him. + +DUKE ORSINO Why should I not, had I the heart to do it, + Like to the Egyptian thief at point of death, + Kill what I love?--a savage jealousy + That sometimes savours nobly. But hear me this: + Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, + And that I partly know the instrument + That screws me from my true place in your favour, + Live you the marble-breasted tyrant still; + But this your minion, whom I know you love, + And whom, by heaven I swear, I tender dearly, + Him will I tear out of that cruel eye, + Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. + Come, boy, with me; my thoughts are ripe in mischief: + I'll sacrifice the lamb that I do love, + To spite a raven's heart within a dove. + +VIOLA And I, most jocund, apt and willingly, + To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. + +OLIVIA Where goes Cesario? + +VIOLA After him I love + More than I love these eyes, more than my life, + More, by all mores, than e'er I shall love wife. + If I do feign, you witnesses above + Punish my life for tainting of my love! + +OLIVIA Ay me, detested! how am I beguiled! + +VIOLA Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? + +OLIVIA Hast thou forgot thyself? is it so long? + Call forth the holy father. + +DUKE ORSINO Come, away! + +OLIVIA Whither, my lord? Cesario, husband, stay. + +DUKE ORSINO Husband! + +OLIVIA Ay, husband: can he that deny? + +DUKE ORSINO Her husband, sirrah! + +VIOLA No, my lord, not I. + +OLIVIA Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear + That makes thee strangle thy propriety: + Fear not, Cesario; take thy fortunes up; + Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art + As great as that thou fear'st. + + [Enter Priest] + + O, welcome, father! + Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, + Here to unfold, though lately we intended + To keep in darkness what occasion now + Reveals before 'tis ripe, what thou dost know + Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. + +Priest A contract of eternal bond of love, + Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, + Attested by the holy close of lips, + Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings; + And all the ceremony of this compact + Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: + Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave + I have travell'd but two hours. + +DUKE ORSINO O thou dissembling cub! what wilt thou be + When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? + Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow, + That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? + Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet + Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. + +VIOLA My lord, I do protest-- + +OLIVIA O, do not swear! + Hold little faith, though thou hast too much fear. + + [Enter SIR ANDREW] + +SIR ANDREW For the love of God, a surgeon! Send one presently + to Sir Toby. + +OLIVIA What's the matter? + +SIR ANDREW He has broke my head across and has given Sir Toby + a bloody coxcomb too: for the love of God, your + help! I had rather than forty pound I were at home. + +OLIVIA Who has done this, Sir Andrew? + +SIR ANDREW The count's gentleman, one Cesario: we took him for + a coward, but he's the very devil incardinate. + +DUKE ORSINO My gentleman, Cesario? + +SIR ANDREW 'Od's lifelings, here he is! You broke my head for + nothing; and that that I did, I was set on to do't + by Sir Toby. + +VIOLA Why do you speak to me? I never hurt you: + You drew your sword upon me without cause; + But I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not. + +SIR ANDREW If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, you have hurt me: I + think you set nothing by a bloody coxcomb. + + [Enter SIR TOBY BELCH and Clown] + + Here comes Sir Toby halting; you shall hear more: + but if he had not been in drink, he would have + tickled you othergates than he did. + +DUKE ORSINO How now, gentleman! how is't with you? + +SIR TOBY BELCH That's all one: has hurt me, and there's the end + on't. Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot? + +Clown O, he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes + were set at eight i' the morning. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Then he's a rogue, and a passy measures panyn: I + hate a drunken rogue. + +OLIVIA Away with him! Who hath made this havoc with them? + +SIR ANDREW I'll help you, Sir Toby, because well be dressed together. + +SIR TOBY BELCH Will you help? an ass-head and a coxcomb and a + knave, a thin-faced knave, a gull! + +OLIVIA Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd to. + + [Exeunt Clown, FABIAN, SIR TOBY BELCH, and SIR ANDREW] + + [Enter SEBASTIAN] + +SEBASTIAN I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your kinsman: + But, had it been the brother of my blood, + I must have done no less with wit and safety. + You throw a strange regard upon me, and by that + I do perceive it hath offended you: + Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows + We made each other but so late ago. + +DUKE ORSINO One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, + A natural perspective, that is and is not! + +SEBASTIAN Antonio, O my dear Antonio! + How have the hours rack'd and tortured me, + Since I have lost thee! + +ANTONIO Sebastian are you? + +SEBASTIAN Fear'st thou that, Antonio? + +ANTONIO How have you made division of yourself? + An apple, cleft in two, is not more twin + Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? + +OLIVIA Most wonderful! + +SEBASTIAN Do I stand there? I never had a brother; + Nor can there be that deity in my nature, + Of here and every where. I had a sister, + Whom the blind waves and surges have devour'd. + Of charity, what kin are you to me? + What countryman? what name? what parentage? + +VIOLA Of Messaline: Sebastian was my father; + Such a Sebastian was my brother too, + So went he suited to his watery tomb: + If spirits can assume both form and suit + You come to fright us. + +SEBASTIAN A spirit I am indeed; + But am in that dimension grossly clad + Which from the womb I did participate. + Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, + I should my tears let fall upon your cheek, + And say 'Thrice-welcome, drowned Viola!' + +VIOLA My father had a mole upon his brow. + +SEBASTIAN And so had mine. + +VIOLA And died that day when Viola from her birth + Had number'd thirteen years. + +SEBASTIAN O, that record is lively in my soul! + He finished indeed his mortal act + That day that made my sister thirteen years. + +VIOLA If nothing lets to make us happy both + But this my masculine usurp'd attire, + Do not embrace me till each circumstance + Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump + That I am Viola: which to confirm, + I'll bring you to a captain in this town, + Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle help + I was preserved to serve this noble count. + All the occurrence of my fortune since + Hath been between this lady and this lord. + +SEBASTIAN [To OLIVIA] So comes it, lady, you have been mistook: + But nature to her bias drew in that. + You would have been contracted to a maid; + Nor are you therein, by my life, deceived, + You are betroth'd both to a maid and man. + +DUKE ORSINO Be not amazed; right noble is his blood. + If this be so, as yet the glass seems true, + I shall have share in this most happy wreck. + + [To VIOLA] + + Boy, thou hast said to me a thousand times + Thou never shouldst love woman like to me. + +VIOLA And all those sayings will I overswear; + And those swearings keep as true in soul + As doth that orbed continent the fire + That severs day from night. + +DUKE ORSINO Give me thy hand; + And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. + +VIOLA The captain that did bring me first on shore + Hath my maid's garments: he upon some action + Is now in durance, at Malvolio's suit, + A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. + +OLIVIA He shall enlarge him: fetch Malvolio hither: + And yet, alas, now I remember me, + They say, poor gentleman, he's much distract. + + [Re-enter Clown with a letter, and FABIAN] + + A most extracting frenzy of mine own + From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. + How does he, sirrah? + +Clown Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at the staves's end as + well as a man in his case may do: has here writ a + letter to you; I should have given't you to-day + morning, but as a madman's epistles are no gospels, + so it skills not much when they are delivered. + +OLIVIA Open't, and read it. + +Clown Look then to be well edified when the fool delivers + the madman. + + [Reads] + + 'By the Lord, madam,'-- + +OLIVIA How now! art thou mad? + +Clown No, madam, I do but read madness: an your ladyship + will have it as it ought to be, you must allow Vox. + +OLIVIA Prithee, read i' thy right wits. + +Clown So I do, madonna; but to read his right wits is to + read thus: therefore perpend, my princess, and give ear. + +OLIVIA Read it you, sirrah. + + [To FABIAN] + +FABIAN [Reads] 'By the Lord, madam, you wrong me, and the + world shall know it: though you have put me into + darkness and given your drunken cousin rule over + me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as well as + your ladyship. I have your own letter that induced + me to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt + not but to do myself much right, or you much shame. + Think of me as you please. I leave my duty a little + unthought of and speak out of my injury. + THE MADLY-USED MALVOLIO.' + +OLIVIA Did he write this? + +Clown Ay, madam. + +DUKE ORSINO This savours not much of distraction. + +OLIVIA See him deliver'd, Fabian; bring him hither. + + [Exit FABIAN] + + My lord so please you, these things further + thought on, + To think me as well a sister as a wife, + One day shall crown the alliance on't, so please you, + Here at my house and at my proper cost. + +DUKE ORSINO Madam, I am most apt to embrace your offer. + + [To VIOLA] + + Your master quits you; and for your service done him, + So much against the mettle of your sex, + So far beneath your soft and tender breeding, + And since you call'd me master for so long, + Here is my hand: you shall from this time be + Your master's mistress. + +OLIVIA A sister! you are she. + + [Re-enter FABIAN, with MALVOLIO] + +DUKE ORSINO Is this the madman? + +OLIVIA Ay, my lord, this same. + How now, Malvolio! + +MALVOLIO Madam, you have done me wrong, + Notorious wrong. + +OLIVIA Have I, Malvolio? no. + +MALVOLIO Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that letter. + You must not now deny it is your hand: + Write from it, if you can, in hand or phrase; + Or say 'tis not your seal, nor your invention: + You can say none of this: well, grant it then + And tell me, in the modesty of honour, + Why you have given me such clear lights of favour, + Bade me come smiling and cross-garter'd to you, + To put on yellow stockings and to frown + Upon Sir Toby and the lighter people; + And, acting this in an obedient hope, + Why have you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, + Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, + And made the most notorious geck and gull + That e'er invention play'd on? tell me why. + +OLIVIA Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing, + Though, I confess, much like the character + But out of question 'tis Maria's hand. + And now I do bethink me, it was she + First told me thou wast mad; then camest in smiling, + And in such forms which here were presupposed + Upon thee in the letter. Prithee, be content: + This practise hath most shrewdly pass'd upon thee; + But when we know the grounds and authors of it, + Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge + Of thine own cause. + +FABIAN Good madam, hear me speak, + And let no quarrel nor no brawl to come + Taint the condition of this present hour, + Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall not, + Most freely I confess, myself and Toby + Set this device against Malvolio here, + Upon some stubborn and uncourteous parts + We had conceived against him: Maria writ + The letter at Sir Toby's great importance; + In recompense whereof he hath married her. + How with a sportful malice it was follow'd, + May rather pluck on laughter than revenge; + If that the injuries be justly weigh'd + That have on both sides pass'd. + +OLIVIA Alas, poor fool, how have they baffled thee! + +Clown Why, 'some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrown upon them.' I was + one, sir, in this interlude; one Sir Topas, sir; but + that's all one. 'By the Lord, fool, I am not mad.' + But do you remember? 'Madam, why laugh you at such + a barren rascal? an you smile not, he's gagged:' + and thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. + +MALVOLIO I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you. + + [Exit] + +OLIVIA He hath been most notoriously abused. + +DUKE ORSINO Pursue him and entreat him to a peace: + He hath not told us of the captain yet: + When that is known and golden time convents, + A solemn combination shall be made + Of our dear souls. Meantime, sweet sister, + We will not part from hence. Cesario, come; + For so you shall be, while you are a man; + But when in other habits you are seen, + Orsino's mistress and his fancy's queen. + + [Exeunt all, except Clown] + +Clown [Sings] + + When that I was and a little tiny boy, + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, + A foolish thing was but a toy, + For the rain it raineth every day. + + But when I came to man's estate, + With hey, ho, &c. + 'Gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate, + For the rain, &c. + + But when I came, alas! to wive, + With hey, ho, &c. + By swaggering could I never thrive, + For the rain, &c. + + But when I came unto my beds, + With hey, ho, &c. + With toss-pots still had drunken heads, + For the rain, &c. + + A great while ago the world begun, + With hey, ho, &c. + But that's all one, our play is done, + And we'll strive to please you every day. + + [Exit] + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DUKE OF MILAN Father to Silvia. (DUKE:) + + +VALENTINE | + | the two Gentlemen. +PROTEUS | + + +ANTONIO Father to Proteus. + +THURIO a foolish rival to Valentine. + +EGLAMOUR Agent for Silvia in her escape. + +HOST where Julia lodges. (Host:) + +OUTLAWS with Valentine. + (First Outlaw:) + (Second Outlaw:) + (Third Outlaw:) + +SPEED a clownish servant to Valentine. + +LAUNCE the like to Proteus. + +PANTHINO Servant to Antonio. + +JULIA beloved of Proteus. + +SILVIA beloved of Valentine. + +LUCETTA waiting-woman to Julia. + + Servants, Musicians. + + +SCENE Verona; Milan; the frontiers of Mantua. + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Verona. An open place. + + + [Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS] + +VALENTINE Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus: + Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. + Were't not affection chains thy tender days + To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love, + I rather would entreat thy company + To see the wonders of the world abroad, + Than, living dully sluggardized at home, + Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. + But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein, + Even as I would when I to love begin. + +PROTEUS Wilt thou be gone? Sweet Valentine, adieu! + Think on thy Proteus, when thou haply seest + Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel: + Wish me partaker in thy happiness + When thou dost meet good hap; and in thy danger, + If ever danger do environ thee, + Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers, + For I will be thy beadsman, Valentine. + +VALENTINE And on a love-book pray for my success? + +PROTEUS Upon some book I love I'll pray for thee. + +VALENTINE That's on some shallow story of deep love: + How young Leander cross'd the Hellespont. + +PROTEUS That's a deep story of a deeper love: + For he was more than over shoes in love. + +VALENTINE 'Tis true; for you are over boots in love, + And yet you never swum the Hellespont. + +PROTEUS Over the boots? nay, give me not the boots. + +VALENTINE No, I will not, for it boots thee not. + +PROTEUS What? + +VALENTINE To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans; + Coy looks with heart-sore sighs; one fading moment's mirth + With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: + If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain; + If lost, why then a grievous labour won; + However, but a folly bought with wit, + Or else a wit by folly vanquished. + +PROTEUS So, by your circumstance, you call me fool. + +VALENTINE So, by your circumstance, I fear you'll prove. + +PROTEUS 'Tis love you cavil at: I am not Love. + +VALENTINE Love is your master, for he masters you: + And he that is so yoked by a fool, + Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise. + +PROTEUS Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud + The eating canker dwells, so eating love + Inhabits in the finest wits of all. + +VALENTINE And writers say, as the most forward bud + Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, + Even so by love the young and tender wit + Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, + Losing his verdure even in the prime + And all the fair effects of future hopes. + But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee, + That art a votary to fond desire? + Once more adieu! my father at the road + Expects my coming, there to see me shipp'd. + +PROTEUS And thither will I bring thee, Valentine. + +VALENTINE Sweet Proteus, no; now let us take our leave. + To Milan let me hear from thee by letters + Of thy success in love, and what news else + Betideth here in absence of thy friend; + And likewise will visit thee with mine. + +PROTEUS All happiness bechance to thee in Milan! + +VALENTINE As much to you at home! and so, farewell. + + [Exit] + +PROTEUS He after honour hunts, I after love: + He leaves his friends to dignify them more, + I leave myself, my friends and all, for love. + Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me, + Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, + War with good counsel, set the world at nought; + Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought. + + [Enter SPEED] + +SPEED Sir Proteus, save you! Saw you my master? + +PROTEUS But now he parted hence, to embark for Milan. + +SPEED Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already, + And I have play'd the sheep in losing him. + +PROTEUS Indeed, a sheep doth very often stray, + An if the shepherd be a while away. + +SPEED You conclude that my master is a shepherd, then, + and I a sheep? + +PROTEUS I do. + +SPEED Why then, my horns are his horns, whether I wake or sleep. + +PROTEUS A silly answer and fitting well a sheep. + +SPEED This proves me still a sheep. + +PROTEUS True; and thy master a shepherd. + +SPEED Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. + +PROTEUS It shall go hard but I'll prove it by another. + +SPEED The shepherd seeks the sheep, and not the sheep the + shepherd; but I seek my master, and my master seeks + not me: therefore I am no sheep. + +PROTEUS The sheep for fodder follow the shepherd; the + shepherd for food follows not the sheep: thou for + wages followest thy master; thy master for wages + follows not thee: therefore thou art a sheep. + +SPEED Such another proof will make me cry 'baa.' + +PROTEUS But, dost thou hear? gavest thou my letter to Julia? + +SPEED Ay sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, + a laced mutton, and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a + lost mutton, nothing for my labour. + +PROTEUS Here's too small a pasture for such store of muttons. + +SPEED If the ground be overcharged, you were best stick her. + +PROTEUS Nay: in that you are astray, 'twere best pound you. + +SPEED Nay, sir, less than a pound shall serve me for + carrying your letter. + +PROTEUS You mistake; I mean the pound,--a pinfold. + +SPEED From a pound to a pin? fold it over and over, + 'Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to + your lover. + +PROTEUS But what said she? + +SPEED [First nodding] Ay. + +PROTEUS Nod--Ay--why, that's noddy. + +SPEED You mistook, sir; I say, she did nod: and you ask + me if she did nod; and I say, 'Ay.' + +PROTEUS And that set together is noddy. + +SPEED Now you have taken the pains to set it together, + take it for your pains. + +PROTEUS No, no; you shall have it for bearing the letter. + +SPEED Well, I perceive I must be fain to bear with you. + +PROTEUS Why sir, how do you bear with me? + +SPEED Marry, sir, the letter, very orderly; having nothing + but the word 'noddy' for my pains. + +PROTEUS Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. + +SPEED And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse. + +PROTEUS Come come, open the matter in brief: what said she? + +SPEED Open your purse, that the money and the matter may + be both at once delivered. + +PROTEUS Well, sir, here is for your pains. What said she? + +SPEED Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win her. + +PROTEUS Why, couldst thou perceive so much from her? + +SPEED Sir, I could perceive nothing at all from her; no, + not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter: + and being so hard to me that brought your mind, I + fear she'll prove as hard to you in telling your + mind. Give her no token but stones; for she's as + hard as steel. + +PROTEUS What said she? nothing? + +SPEED No, not so much as 'Take this for thy pains.' To + testify your bounty, I thank you, you have testerned + me; in requital whereof, henceforth carry your + letters yourself: and so, sir, I'll commend you to my master. + +PROTEUS Go, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck, + Which cannot perish having thee aboard, + Being destined to a drier death on shore. + + [Exit SPEED] + + I must go send some better messenger: + I fear my Julia would not deign my lines, + Receiving them from such a worthless post. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. Garden of JULIA's house. + + + [Enter JULlA and LUCETTA] + +JULIA But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, + Wouldst thou then counsel me to fall in love? + +LUCETTA Ay, madam, so you stumble not unheedfully. + +JULIA Of all the fair resort of gentlemen + That every day with parle encounter me, + In thy opinion which is worthiest love? + +LUCETTA Please you repeat their names, I'll show my mind + According to my shallow simple skill. + +JULIA What think'st thou of the fair Sir Eglamour? + +LUCETTA As of a knight well-spoken, neat and fine; + But, were I you, he never should be mine. + +JULIA What think'st thou of the rich Mercatio? + +LUCETTA Well of his wealth; but of himself, so so. + +JULIA What think'st thou of the gentle Proteus? + +LUCETTA Lord, Lord! to see what folly reigns in us! + +JULIA How now! what means this passion at his name? + +LUCETTA Pardon, dear madam: 'tis a passing shame + That I, unworthy body as I am, + Should censure thus on lovely gentlemen. + +JULIA Why not on Proteus, as of all the rest? + +LUCETTA Then thus: of many good I think him best. + +JULIA Your reason? + +LUCETTA I have no other, but a woman's reason; + I think him so because I think him so. + +JULIA And wouldst thou have me cast my love on him? + +LUCETTA Ay, if you thought your love not cast away. + +JULIA Why he, of all the rest, hath never moved me. + +LUCETTA Yet he, of all the rest, I think, best loves ye. + +JULIA His little speaking shows his love but small. + +LUCETTA Fire that's closest kept burns most of all. + +JULIA They do not love that do not show their love. + +LUCETTA O, they love least that let men know their love. + +JULIA I would I knew his mind. + +LUCETTA Peruse this paper, madam. + +JULIA 'To Julia.' Say, from whom? + +LUCETTA That the contents will show. + +JULIA Say, say, who gave it thee? + +LUCETTA Valentine's page; and sent, I think, from Proteus. + He would have given it you; but I, being in the way, + Did in your name receive it: pardon the + fault I pray. + +JULIA Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker! + Dare you presume to harbour wanton lines? + To whisper and conspire against my youth? + Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth + And you an officer fit for the place. + Or else return no more into my sight. + +LUCETTA To plead for love deserves more fee than hate. + +JULIA Will ye be gone? + +LUCETTA That you may ruminate. + + [Exit] + +JULIA And yet I would I had o'erlooked the letter: + It were a shame to call her back again + And pray her to a fault for which I chid her. + What a fool is she, that knows I am a maid, + And would not force the letter to my view! + Since maids, in modesty, say 'no' to that + Which they would have the profferer construe 'ay.' + Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love + That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse + And presently all humbled kiss the rod! + How churlishly I chid Lucetta hence, + When willingly I would have had her here! + How angerly I taught my brow to frown, + When inward joy enforced my heart to smile! + My penance is to call Lucetta back + And ask remission for my folly past. + What ho! Lucetta! + + [Re-enter LUCETTA] + +LUCETTA What would your ladyship? + +JULIA Is't near dinner-time? + +LUCETTA I would it were, + That you might kill your stomach on your meat + And not upon your maid. + +JULIA What is't that you took up so gingerly? + +LUCETTA Nothing. + +JULIA Why didst thou stoop, then? + +LUCETTA To take a paper up that I let fall. + +JULIA And is that paper nothing? + +LUCETTA Nothing concerning me. + +JULIA Then let it lie for those that it concerns. + +LUCETTA Madam, it will not lie where it concerns + Unless it have a false interpeter. + +JULIA Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. + +LUCETTA That I might sing it, madam, to a tune. + Give me a note: your ladyship can set. + +JULIA As little by such toys as may be possible. + Best sing it to the tune of 'Light o' love.' + +LUCETTA It is too heavy for so light a tune. + +JULIA Heavy! belike it hath some burden then? + +LUCETTA Ay, and melodious were it, would you sing it. + +JULIA And why not you? + +LUCETTA I cannot reach so high. + +JULIA Let's see your song. How now, minion! + +LUCETTA Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out: + And yet methinks I do not like this tune. + +JULIA You do not? + +LUCETTA No, madam; it is too sharp. + +JULIA You, minion, are too saucy. + +LUCETTA Nay, now you are too flat + And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: + There wanteth but a mean to fill your song. + +JULIA The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass. + +LUCETTA Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus. + +JULIA This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. + Here is a coil with protestation! + + [Tears the letter] + + Go get you gone, and let the papers lie: + You would be fingering them, to anger me. + +LUCETTA She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased + To be so anger'd with another letter. + + [Exit] + +JULIA Nay, would I were so anger'd with the same! + O hateful hands, to tear such loving words! + Injurious wasps, to feed on such sweet honey + And kill the bees that yield it with your stings! + I'll kiss each several paper for amends. + Look, here is writ 'kind Julia.' Unkind Julia! + As in revenge of thy ingratitude, + I throw thy name against the bruising stones, + Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. + And here is writ 'love-wounded Proteus.' + Poor wounded name! my bosom as a bed + Shall lodge thee till thy wound be thoroughly heal'd; + And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. + But twice or thrice was 'Proteus' written down. + Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away + Till I have found each letter in the letter, + Except mine own name: that some whirlwind bear + Unto a ragged fearful-hanging rock + And throw it thence into the raging sea! + Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ, + 'Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, + To the sweet Julia:' that I'll tear away. + And yet I will not, sith so prettily + He couples it to his complaining names. + Thus will I fold them one on another: + Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. + + [Re-enter LUCETTA] + +LUCETTA Madam, + Dinner is ready, and your father stays. + +JULIA Well, let us go. + +LUCETTA What, shall these papers lie like tell-tales here? + +JULIA If you respect them, best to take them up. + +LUCETTA Nay, I was taken up for laying them down: + Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. + +JULIA I see you have a month's mind to them. + +LUCETTA Ay, madam, you may say what sights you see; + I see things too, although you judge I wink. + +JULIA Come, come; will't please you go? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The same. ANTONIO's house. + + + [Enter ANTONIO and PANTHINO] + +ANTONIO Tell me, Panthino, what sad talk was that + Wherewith my brother held you in the cloister? + +PANTHINO 'Twas of his nephew Proteus, your son. + +ANTONIO Why, what of him? + +PANTHINO He wonder'd that your lordship + Would suffer him to spend his youth at home, + While other men, of slender reputation, + Put forth their sons to seek preferment out: + Some to the wars, to try their fortune there; + Some to discover islands far away; + Some to the studious universities. + For any or for all these exercises, + He said that Proteus your son was meet, + And did request me to importune you + To let him spend his time no more at home, + Which would be great impeachment to his age, + In having known no travel in his youth. + +ANTONIO Nor need'st thou much importune me to that + Whereon this month I have been hammering. + I have consider'd well his loss of time + And how he cannot be a perfect man, + Not being tried and tutor'd in the world: + Experience is by industry achieved + And perfected by the swift course of time. + Then tell me, whither were I best to send him? + +PANTHINO I think your lordship is not ignorant + How his companion, youthful Valentine, + Attends the emperor in his royal court. + +ANTONIO I know it well. + +PANTHINO 'Twere good, I think, your lordship sent him thither: + There shall he practise tilts and tournaments, + Hear sweet discourse, converse with noblemen. + And be in eye of every exercise + Worthy his youth and nobleness of birth. + +ANTONIO I like thy counsel; well hast thou advised: + And that thou mayst perceive how well I like it, + The execution of it shall make known. + Even with the speediest expedition + I will dispatch him to the emperor's court. + +PANTHINO To-morrow, may it please you, Don Alphonso, + With other gentlemen of good esteem, + Are journeying to salute the emperor + And to commend their service to his will. + +ANTONIO Good company; with them shall Proteus go: + And, in good time! now will we break with him. + + [Enter PROTEUS] + +PROTEUS Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life! + Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; + Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn. + O, that our fathers would applaud our loves, + To seal our happiness with their consents! + O heavenly Julia! + +ANTONIO How now! what letter are you reading there? + +PROTEUS May't please your lordship, 'tis a word or two + Of commendations sent from Valentine, + Deliver'd by a friend that came from him. + +ANTONIO Lend me the letter; let me see what news. + +PROTEUS There is no news, my lord, but that he writes + How happily he lives, how well beloved + And daily graced by the emperor; + Wishing me with him, partner of his fortune. + +ANTONIO And how stand you affected to his wish? + +PROTEUS As one relying on your lordship's will + And not depending on his friendly wish. + +ANTONIO My will is something sorted with his wish. + Muse not that I thus suddenly proceed; + For what I will, I will, and there an end. + I am resolved that thou shalt spend some time + With Valentinus in the emperor's court: + What maintenance he from his friends receives, + Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. + To-morrow be in readiness to go: + Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. + +PROTEUS My lord, I cannot be so soon provided: + Please you, deliberate a day or two. + +ANTONIO Look, what thou want'st shall be sent after thee: + No more of stay! to-morrow thou must go. + Come on, Panthino: you shall be employ'd + To hasten on his expedition. + + [Exeunt ANTONIO and PANTHINO] + +PROTEUS Thus have I shunn'd the fire for fear of burning, + And drench'd me in the sea, where I am drown'd. + I fear'd to show my father Julia's letter, + Lest he should take exceptions to my love; + And with the vantage of mine own excuse + Hath he excepted most against my love. + O, how this spring of love resembleth + The uncertain glory of an April day, + Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, + And by and by a cloud takes all away! + + [Re-enter PANTHINO] + +PANTHINO Sir Proteus, your father calls for you: + He is in haste; therefore, I pray you to go. + +PROTEUS Why, this it is: my heart accords thereto, + And yet a thousand times it answers 'no.' + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Milan. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Enter VALENTINE and SPEED] + +SPEED Sir, your glove. + +VALENTINE Not mine; my gloves are on. + +SPEED Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one. + +VALENTINE Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it's mine: + Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! + Ah, Silvia, Silvia! + +SPEED Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia! + +VALENTINE How now, sirrah? + +SPEED She is not within hearing, sir. + +VALENTINE Why, sir, who bade you call her? + +SPEED Your worship, sir; or else I mistook. + +VALENTINE Well, you'll still be too forward. + +SPEED And yet I was last chidden for being too slow. + +VALENTINE Go to, sir: tell me, do you know Madam Silvia? + +SPEED She that your worship loves? + +VALENTINE Why, how know you that I am in love? + +SPEED Marry, by these special marks: first, you have + learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms, + like a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a + robin-redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had + the pestilence; to sigh, like a school-boy that had + lost his A B C; to weep, like a young wench that had + buried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes + diet; to watch like one that fears robbing; to + speak puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas. You were + wont, when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you + walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you + fasted, it was presently after dinner; when you + looked sadly, it was for want of money: and now you + are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I look + on you, I can hardly think you my master. + +VALENTINE Are all these things perceived in me? + +SPEED They are all perceived without ye. + +VALENTINE Without me? they cannot. + +SPEED Without you? nay, that's certain, for, without you + were so simple, none else would: but you are so + without these follies, that these follies are within + you and shine through you like the water in an + urinal, that not an eye that sees you but is a + physician to comment on your malady. + +VALENTINE But tell me, dost thou know my lady Silvia? + +SPEED She that you gaze on so as she sits at supper? + +VALENTINE Hast thou observed that? even she, I mean. + +SPEED Why, sir, I know her not. + +VALENTINE Dost thou know her by my gazing on her, and yet + knowest her not? + +SPEED Is she not hard-favoured, sir? + +VALENTINE Not so fair, boy, as well-favoured. + +SPEED Sir, I know that well enough. + +VALENTINE What dost thou know? + +SPEED That she is not so fair as, of you, well-favoured. + +VALENTINE I mean that her beauty is exquisite, but her favour infinite. + +SPEED That's because the one is painted and the other out + of all count. + +VALENTINE How painted? and how out of count? + +SPEED Marry, sir, so painted, to make her fair, that no + man counts of her beauty. + +VALENTINE How esteemest thou me? I account of her beauty. + +SPEED You never saw her since she was deformed. + +VALENTINE How long hath she been deformed? + +SPEED Ever since you loved her. + +VALENTINE I have loved her ever since I saw her; and still I + see her beautiful. + +SPEED If you love her, you cannot see her. + +VALENTINE Why? + +SPEED Because Love is blind. O, that you had mine eyes; + or your own eyes had the lights they were wont to + have when you chid at Sir Proteus for going + ungartered! + +VALENTINE What should I see then? + +SPEED Your own present folly and her passing deformity: + for he, being in love, could not see to garter his + hose, and you, being in love, cannot see to put on your hose. + +VALENTINE Belike, boy, then, you are in love; for last + morning you could not see to wipe my shoes. + +SPEED True, sir; I was in love with my bed: I thank you, + you swinged me for my love, which makes me the + bolder to chide you for yours. + +VALENTINE In conclusion, I stand affected to her. + +SPEED I would you were set, so your affection would cease. + +VALENTINE Last night she enjoined me to write some lines to + one she loves. + +SPEED And have you? + +VALENTINE I have. + +SPEED Are they not lamely writ? + +VALENTINE No, boy, but as well as I can do them. Peace! + here she comes. + +SPEED [Aside] O excellent motion! O exceeding puppet! + Now will he interpret to her. + + [Enter SILVIA] + +VALENTINE Madam and mistress, a thousand good-morrows. + +SPEED [Aside] O, give ye good even! here's a million of manners. + +SILVIA Sir Valentine and servant, to you two thousand. + +SPEED [Aside] He should give her interest and she gives it him. + +VALENTINE As you enjoin'd me, I have writ your letter + Unto the secret nameless friend of yours; + Which I was much unwilling to proceed in + But for my duty to your ladyship. + +SILVIA I thank you gentle servant: 'tis very clerkly done. + +VALENTINE Now trust me, madam, it came hardly off; + For being ignorant to whom it goes + I writ at random, very doubtfully. + +SILVIA Perchance you think too much of so much pains? + +VALENTINE No, madam; so it stead you, I will write + Please you command, a thousand times as much; And yet-- + +SILVIA A pretty period! Well, I guess the sequel; + And yet I will not name it; and yet I care not; + And yet take this again; and yet I thank you, + Meaning henceforth to trouble you no more. + +SPEED [Aside] And yet you will; and yet another 'yet.' + +VALENTINE What means your ladyship? do you not like it? + +SILVIA Yes, yes; the lines are very quaintly writ; + But since unwillingly, take them again. + Nay, take them. + +VALENTINE Madam, they are for you. + +SILVIA Ay, ay: you writ them, sir, at my request; + But I will none of them; they are for you; + I would have had them writ more movingly. + +VALENTINE Please you, I'll write your ladyship another. + +SILVIA And when it's writ, for my sake read it over, + And if it please you, so; if not, why, so. + +VALENTINE If it please me, madam, what then? + +SILVIA Why, if it please you, take it for your labour: + And so, good morrow, servant. + + [Exit] + +SPEED O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, + As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple! + My master sues to her, and she hath + taught her suitor, + He being her pupil, to become her tutor. + O excellent device! was there ever heard a better, + That my master, being scribe, to himself should write + the letter? + +VALENTINE How now, sir? what are you reasoning with yourself? + +SPEED Nay, I was rhyming: 'tis you that have the reason. + +VALENTINE To do what? + +SPEED To be a spokesman for Madam Silvia. + +VALENTINE To whom? + +SPEED To yourself: why, she wooes you by a figure. + +VALENTINE What figure? + +SPEED By a letter, I should say. + +VALENTINE Why, she hath not writ to me? + +SPEED What need she, when she hath made you write to + yourself? Why, do you not perceive the jest? + +VALENTINE No, believe me. + +SPEED No believing you, indeed, sir. But did you perceive + her earnest? + +VALENTINE She gave me none, except an angry word. + +SPEED Why, she hath given you a letter. + +VALENTINE That's the letter I writ to her friend. + +SPEED And that letter hath she delivered, and there an end. + +VALENTINE I would it were no worse. + +SPEED I'll warrant you, 'tis as well: + For often have you writ to her, and she, in modesty, + Or else for want of idle time, could not again reply; + Or fearing else some messenger that might her mind discover, + Herself hath taught her love himself to write unto her lover. + All this I speak in print, for in print I found it. + Why muse you, sir? 'tis dinner-time. + +VALENTINE I have dined. + +SPEED Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can + feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my + victuals, and would fain have meat. O, be not like + your mistress; be moved, be moved. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Verona. JULIA'S house. + + + [Enter PROTEUS and JULIA] + +PROTEUS Have patience, gentle Julia. + +JULIA I must, where is no remedy. + +PROTEUS When possibly I can, I will return. + +JULIA If you turn not, you will return the sooner. + Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. + + [Giving a ring] + +PROTEUS Why then, we'll make exchange; here, take you this. + +JULIA And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. + +PROTEUS Here is my hand for my true constancy; + And when that hour o'erslips me in the day + Wherein I sigh not, Julia, for thy sake, + The next ensuing hour some foul mischance + Torment me for my love's forgetfulness! + My father stays my coming; answer not; + The tide is now: nay, not thy tide of tears; + That tide will stay me longer than I should. + Julia, farewell! + + [Exit JULIA] + + What, gone without a word? + Ay, so true love should do: it cannot speak; + For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. + + [Enter PANTHINO] + +PANTHINO Sir Proteus, you are stay'd for. + +PROTEUS Go; I come, I come. + Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. A street. + + + [Enter LAUNCE, leading a dog] + +LAUNCE Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have done weeping; + all the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I + have received my proportion, like the prodigious + son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial's + court. I think Crab, my dog, be the sourest-natured + dog that lives: my mother weeping, my father + wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, our cat + wringing her hands, and all our house in a great + perplexity, yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed + one tear: he is a stone, a very pebble stone, and + has no more pity in him than a dog: a Jew would have + wept to have seen our parting; why, my grandam, + having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my + parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it. This + shoe is my father: no, this left shoe is my father: + no, no, this left shoe is my mother: nay, that + cannot be so neither: yes, it is so, it is so, it + hath the worser sole. This shoe, with the hole in + it, is my mother, and this my father; a vengeance + on't! there 'tis: now, sit, this staff is my + sister, for, look you, she is as white as a lily and + as small as a wand: this hat is Nan, our maid: I + am the dog: no, the dog is himself, and I am the + dog--Oh! the dog is me, and I am myself; ay, so, + so. Now come I to my father; Father, your blessing: + now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping: + now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on. Now + come I to my mother: O, that she could speak now + like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her; why, there + 'tis; here's my mother's breath up and down. Now + come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now + the dog all this while sheds not a tear nor speaks a + word; but see how I lay the dust with my tears. + + [Enter PANTHINO] + +PANTHINO Launce, away, away, aboard! thy master is shipped + and thou art to post after with oars. What's the + matter? why weepest thou, man? Away, ass! You'll + lose the tide, if you tarry any longer. + +LAUNCE It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the + unkindest tied that ever any man tied. + +PANTHINO What's the unkindest tide? + +LAUNCE Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog. + +PANTHINO Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood, and, in + losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing + thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy + master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy + service,--Why dost thou stop my mouth? + +LAUNCE For fear thou shouldst lose thy tongue. + +PANTHINO Where should I lose my tongue? + +LAUNCE In thy tale. + +PANTHINO In thy tail! + +LAUNCE Lose the tide, and the voyage, and the master, and + the service, and the tied! Why, man, if the river + were dry, I am able to fill it with my tears; if the + wind were down, I could drive the boat with my sighs. + +PANTHINO Come, come away, man; I was sent to call thee. + +LAUNCE Sir, call me what thou darest. + +PANTHINO Wilt thou go? + +LAUNCE Well, I will go. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Milan. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Enter SILVIA, VALENTINE, THURIO, and SPEED] + +SILVIA Servant! + +VALENTINE Mistress? + +SPEED Master, Sir Thurio frowns on you. + +VALENTINE Ay, boy, it's for love. + +SPEED Not of you. + +VALENTINE Of my mistress, then. + +SPEED 'Twere good you knocked him. + + [Exit] + +SILVIA Servant, you are sad. + +VALENTINE Indeed, madam, I seem so. + +THURIO Seem you that you are not? + +VALENTINE Haply I do. + +THURIO So do counterfeits. + +VALENTINE So do you. + +THURIO What seem I that I am not? + +VALENTINE Wise. + +THURIO What instance of the contrary? + +VALENTINE Your folly. + +THURIO And how quote you my folly? + +VALENTINE I quote it in your jerkin. + +THURIO My jerkin is a doublet. + +VALENTINE Well, then, I'll double your folly. + +THURIO How? + +SILVIA What, angry, Sir Thurio! do you change colour? + +VALENTINE Give him leave, madam; he is a kind of chameleon. + +THURIO That hath more mind to feed on your blood than live + in your air. + +VALENTINE You have said, sir. + +THURIO Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. + +VALENTINE I know it well, sir; you always end ere you begin. + +SILVIA A fine volley of words, gentlemen, and quickly shot off. + +VALENTINE 'Tis indeed, madam; we thank the giver. + +SILVIA Who is that, servant? + +VALENTINE Yourself, sweet lady; for you gave the fire. Sir + Thurio borrows his wit from your ladyship's looks, + and spends what he borrows kindly in your company. + +THURIO Sir, if you spend word for word with me, I shall + make your wit bankrupt. + +VALENTINE I know it well, sir; you have an exchequer of words, + and, I think, no other treasure to give your + followers, for it appears by their bare liveries, + that they live by your bare words. + +SILVIA No more, gentlemen, no more:--here comes my father. + + [Enter DUKE] + +DUKE Now, daughter Silvia, you are hard beset. + Sir Valentine, your father's in good health: + What say you to a letter from your friends + Of much good news? + +VALENTINE My lord, I will be thankful. + To any happy messenger from thence. + +DUKE Know ye Don Antonio, your countryman? + +VALENTINE Ay, my good lord, I know the gentleman + To be of worth and worthy estimation + And not without desert so well reputed. + +DUKE Hath he not a son? + +VALENTINE Ay, my good lord; a son that well deserves + The honour and regard of such a father. + +DUKE You know him well? + +VALENTINE I know him as myself; for from our infancy + We have conversed and spent our hours together: + And though myself have been an idle truant, + Omitting the sweet benefit of time + To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection, + Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, + Made use and fair advantage of his days; + His years but young, but his experience old; + His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; + And, in a word, for far behind his worth + Comes all the praises that I now bestow, + He is complete in feature and in mind + With all good grace to grace a gentleman. + +DUKE Beshrew me, sir, but if he make this good, + He is as worthy for an empress' love + As meet to be an emperor's counsellor. + Well, sir, this gentleman is come to me, + With commendation from great potentates; + And here he means to spend his time awhile: + I think 'tis no unwelcome news to you. + +VALENTINE Should I have wish'd a thing, it had been he. + +DUKE Welcome him then according to his worth. + Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio; + For Valentine, I need not cite him to it: + I will send him hither to you presently. + + [Exit] + +VALENTINE This is the gentleman I told your ladyship + Had come along with me, but that his mistress + Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. + +SILVIA Belike that now she hath enfranchised them + Upon some other pawn for fealty. + +VALENTINE Nay, sure, I think she holds them prisoners still. + +SILVIA Nay, then he should be blind; and, being blind + How could he see his way to seek out you? + +VALENTINE Why, lady, Love hath twenty pair of eyes. + +THURIO They say that Love hath not an eye at all. + +VALENTINE To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself: + Upon a homely object Love can wink. + +SILVIA Have done, have done; here comes the gentleman. + + [Exit THURIO] + + [Enter PROTEUS] + +VALENTINE Welcome, dear Proteus! Mistress, I beseech you, + Confirm his welcome with some special favour. + +SILVIA His worth is warrant for his welcome hither, + If this be he you oft have wish'd to hear from. + +VALENTINE Mistress, it is: sweet lady, entertain him + To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. + +SILVIA Too low a mistress for so high a servant. + +PROTEUS Not so, sweet lady: but too mean a servant + To have a look of such a worthy mistress. + +VALENTINE Leave off discourse of disability: + Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant. + +PROTEUS My duty will I boast of; nothing else. + +SILVIA And duty never yet did want his meed: + Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. + +PROTEUS I'll die on him that says so but yourself. + +SILVIA That you are welcome? + +PROTEUS That you are worthless. + + [Re-enter THURIO] + +THURIO Madam, my lord your father would speak with you. + +SILVIA I wait upon his pleasure. Come, Sir Thurio, + Go with me. Once more, new servant, welcome: + I'll leave you to confer of home affairs; + When you have done, we look to hear from you. + +PROTEUS We'll both attend upon your ladyship. + + [Exeunt SILVIA and THURIO] + +VALENTINE Now, tell me, how do all from whence you came? + +PROTEUS Your friends are well and have them much commended. + +VALENTINE And how do yours? + +PROTEUS I left them all in health. + +VALENTINE How does your lady? and how thrives your love? + +PROTEUS My tales of love were wont to weary you; + I know you joy not in a love discourse. + +VALENTINE Ay, Proteus, but that life is alter'd now: + I have done penance for contemning Love, + Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me + With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, + With nightly tears and daily heart-sore sighs; + For in revenge of my contempt of love, + Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes + And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. + O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord, + And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, + There is no woe to his correction, + Nor to his service no such joy on earth. + Now no discourse, except it be of love; + Now can I break my fast, dine, sup and sleep, + Upon the very naked name of love. + +PROTEUS Enough; I read your fortune in your eye. + Was this the idol that you worship so? + +VALENTINE Even she; and is she not a heavenly saint? + +PROTEUS No; but she is an earthly paragon. + +VALENTINE Call her divine. + +PROTEUS I will not flatter her. + +VALENTINE O, flatter me; for love delights in praises. + +PROTEUS When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills, + And I must minister the like to you. + +VALENTINE Then speak the truth by her; if not divine, + Yet let her be a principality, + Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. + +PROTEUS Except my mistress. + +VALENTINE Sweet, except not any; + Except thou wilt except against my love. + +PROTEUS Have I not reason to prefer mine own? + +VALENTINE And I will help thee to prefer her too: + She shall be dignified with this high honour-- + To bear my lady's train, lest the base earth + Should from her vesture chance to steal a kiss + And, of so great a favour growing proud, + Disdain to root the summer-swelling flower + And make rough winter everlastingly. + +PROTEUS Why, Valentine, what braggardism is this? + +VALENTINE Pardon me, Proteus: all I can is nothing + To her whose worth makes other worthies nothing; + She is alone. + +PROTEUS Then let her alone. + +VALENTINE Not for the world: why, man, she is mine own, + And I as rich in having such a jewel + As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, + The water nectar and the rocks pure gold. + Forgive me that I do not dream on thee, + Because thou see'st me dote upon my love. + My foolish rival, that her father likes + Only for his possessions are so huge, + Is gone with her along, and I must after, + For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. + +PROTEUS But she loves you? + +VALENTINE Ay, and we are betroth'd: nay, more, our, + marriage-hour, + With all the cunning manner of our flight, + Determined of; how I must climb her window, + The ladder made of cords, and all the means + Plotted and 'greed on for my happiness. + Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, + In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. + +PROTEUS Go on before; I shall inquire you forth: + I must unto the road, to disembark + Some necessaries that I needs must use, + And then I'll presently attend you. + +VALENTINE Will you make haste? + +PROTEUS I will. + + [Exit VALENTINE] + + Even as one heat another heat expels, + Or as one nail by strength drives out another, + So the remembrance of my former love + Is by a newer object quite forgotten. + Is it mine, or Valentine's praise, + Her true perfection, or my false transgression, + That makes me reasonless to reason thus? + She is fair; and so is Julia that I love-- + That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd; + Which, like a waxen image, 'gainst a fire, + Bears no impression of the thing it was. + Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold, + And that I love him not as I was wont. + O, but I love his lady too too much, + And that's the reason I love him so little. + How shall I dote on her with more advice, + That thus without advice begin to love her! + 'Tis but her picture I have yet beheld, + And that hath dazzled my reason's light; + But when I look on her perfections, + There is no reason but I shall be blind. + If I can cheque my erring love, I will; + If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V The same. A street. + + + [Enter SPEED and LAUNCE severally] + +SPEED Launce! by mine honesty, welcome to Milan! + +LAUNCE Forswear not thyself, sweet youth, for I am not + welcome. I reckon this always, that a man is never + undone till he be hanged, nor never welcome to a + place till some certain shot be paid and the hostess + say 'Welcome!' + +SPEED Come on, you madcap, I'll to the alehouse with you + presently; where, for one shot of five pence, thou + shalt have five thousand welcomes. But, sirrah, how + did thy master part with Madam Julia? + +LAUNCE Marry, after they closed in earnest, they parted very + fairly in jest. + +SPEED But shall she marry him? + +LAUNCE No. + +SPEED How then? shall he marry her? + +LAUNCE No, neither. + +SPEED What, are they broken? + +LAUNCE No, they are both as whole as a fish. + +SPEED Why, then, how stands the matter with them? + +LAUNCE Marry, thus: when it stands well with him, it + stands well with her. + +SPEED What an ass art thou! I understand thee not. + +LAUNCE What a block art thou, that thou canst not! My + staff understands me. + +SPEED What thou sayest? + +LAUNCE Ay, and what I do too: look thee, I'll but lean, + and my staff understands me. + +SPEED It stands under thee, indeed. + +LAUNCE Why, stand-under and under-stand is all one. + +SPEED But tell me true, will't be a match? + +LAUNCE Ask my dog: if he say ay, it will! if he say no, + it will; if he shake his tail and say nothing, it will. + +SPEED The conclusion is then that it will. + +LAUNCE Thou shalt never get such a secret from me but by a parable. + +SPEED 'Tis well that I get it so. But, Launce, how sayest + thou, that my master is become a notable lover? + +LAUNCE I never knew him otherwise. + +SPEED Than how? + +LAUNCE A notable lubber, as thou reportest him to be. + +SPEED Why, thou whoreson ass, thou mistakest me. + +LAUNCE Why, fool, I meant not thee; I meant thy master. + +SPEED I tell thee, my master is become a hot lover. + +LAUNCE Why, I tell thee, I care not though he burn himself + in love. If thou wilt, go with me to the alehouse; + if not, thou art an Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the + name of a Christian. + +SPEED Why? + +LAUNCE Because thou hast not so much charity in thee as to + go to the ale with a Christian. Wilt thou go? + +SPEED At thy service. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI The same. The DUKE'S palace. + + + [Enter PROTEUS] + +PROTEUS To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn; + To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn; + To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn; + And even that power which gave me first my oath + Provokes me to this threefold perjury; + Love bade me swear and Love bids me forswear. + O sweet-suggesting Love, if thou hast sinned, + Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it! + At first I did adore a twinkling star, + But now I worship a celestial sun. + Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken, + And he wants wit that wants resolved will + To learn his wit to exchange the bad for better. + Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad, + Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd + With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. + I cannot leave to love, and yet I do; + But there I leave to love where I should love. + Julia I lose and Valentine I lose: + If I keep them, I needs must lose myself; + If I lose them, thus find I by their loss + For Valentine myself, for Julia Silvia. + I to myself am dearer than a friend, + For love is still most precious in itself; + And Silvia--witness Heaven, that made her fair!-- + Shows Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. + I will forget that Julia is alive, + Remembering that my love to her is dead; + And Valentine I'll hold an enemy, + Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. + I cannot now prove constant to myself, + Without some treachery used to Valentine. + This night he meaneth with a corded ladder + To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window, + Myself in counsel, his competitor. + Now presently I'll give her father notice + Of their disguising and pretended flight; + Who, all enraged, will banish Valentine; + For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter; + But, Valentine being gone, I'll quickly cross + By some sly trick blunt Thurio's dull proceeding. + Love, lend me wings to make my purpose swift, + As thou hast lent me wit to plot this drift! + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VII Verona. JULIA'S house. + + + [Enter JULIA and LUCETTA] + +JULIA Counsel, Lucetta; gentle girl, assist me; + And even in kind love I do conjure thee, + Who art the table wherein all my thoughts + Are visibly character'd and engraved, + To lesson me and tell me some good mean + How, with my honour, I may undertake + A journey to my loving Proteus. + +LUCETTA Alas, the way is wearisome and long! + +JULIA A true-devoted pilgrim is not weary + To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; + Much less shall she that hath Love's wings to fly, + And when the flight is made to one so dear, + Of such divine perfection, as Sir Proteus. + +LUCETTA Better forbear till Proteus make return. + +JULIA O, know'st thou not his looks are my soul's food? + Pity the dearth that I have pined in, + By longing for that food so long a time. + Didst thou but know the inly touch of love, + Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow + As seek to quench the fire of love with words. + +LUCETTA I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire, + But qualify the fire's extreme rage, + Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. + +JULIA The more thou damm'st it up, the more it burns. + The current that with gentle murmur glides, + Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; + But when his fair course is not hindered, + He makes sweet music with the enamell'ed stones, + Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge + He overtaketh in his pilgrimage, + And so by many winding nooks he strays + With willing sport to the wild ocean. + Then let me go and hinder not my course + I'll be as patient as a gentle stream + And make a pastime of each weary step, + Till the last step have brought me to my love; + And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil + A blessed soul doth in Elysium. + +LUCETTA But in what habit will you go along? + +JULIA Not like a woman; for I would prevent + The loose encounters of lascivious men: + Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds + As may beseem some well-reputed page. + +LUCETTA Why, then, your ladyship must cut your hair. + +JULIA No, girl, I'll knit it up in silken strings + With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots. + To be fantastic may become a youth + Of greater time than I shall show to be. + +LUCETTA What fashion, madam shall I make your breeches? + +JULIA That fits as well as 'Tell me, good my lord, + What compass will you wear your farthingale?' + Why even what fashion thou best likest, Lucetta. + +LUCETTA You must needs have them with a codpiece, madam. + +JULIA Out, out, Lucetta! that would be ill-favour'd. + +LUCETTA A round hose, madam, now's not worth a pin, + Unless you have a codpiece to stick pins on. + +JULIA Lucetta, as thou lovest me, let me have + What thou thinkest meet and is most mannerly. + But tell me, wench, how will the world repute me + For undertaking so unstaid a journey? + I fear me, it will make me scandalized. + +LUCETTA If you think so, then stay at home and go not. + +JULIA Nay, that I will not. + +LUCETTA Then never dream on infamy, but go. + If Proteus like your journey when you come, + No matter who's displeased when you are gone: + I fear me, he will scarce be pleased withal. + +JULIA That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: + A thousand oaths, an ocean of his tears + And instances of infinite of love + Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. + +LUCETTA All these are servants to deceitful men. + +JULIA Base men, that use them to so base effect! + But truer stars did govern Proteus' birth + His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, + His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, + His tears pure messengers sent from his heart, + His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. + +LUCETTA Pray heaven he prove so, when you come to him! + +JULIA Now, as thou lovest me, do him not that wrong + To bear a hard opinion of his truth: + Only deserve my love by loving him; + And presently go with me to my chamber, + To take a note of what I stand in need of, + To furnish me upon my longing journey. + All that is mine I leave at thy dispose, + My goods, my lands, my reputation; + Only, in lieu thereof, dispatch me hence. + Come, answer not, but to it presently! + I am impatient of my tarriance. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Milan. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Enter DUKE, THURIO, and PROTEUS] + +DUKE Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, awhile; + We have some secrets to confer about. + + [Exit THURIO] + + Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will with me? + +PROTEUS My gracious lord, that which I would discover + The law of friendship bids me to conceal; + But when I call to mind your gracious favours + Done to me, undeserving as I am, + My duty pricks me on to utter that + Which else no worldly good should draw from me. + Know, worthy prince, Sir Valentine, my friend, + This night intends to steal away your daughter: + Myself am one made privy to the plot. + I know you have determined to bestow her + On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates; + And should she thus be stol'n away from you, + It would be much vexation to your age. + Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose + To cross my friend in his intended drift + Than, by concealing it, heap on your head + A pack of sorrows which would press you down, + Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. + +DUKE Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest care; + Which to requite, command me while I live. + This love of theirs myself have often seen, + Haply when they have judged me fast asleep, + And oftentimes have purposed to forbid + Sir Valentine her company and my court: + But fearing lest my jealous aim might err + And so unworthily disgrace the man, + A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd, + I gave him gentle looks, thereby to find + That which thyself hast now disclosed to me. + And, that thou mayst perceive my fear of this, + Knowing that tender youth is soon suggested, + I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, + The key whereof myself have ever kept; + And thence she cannot be convey'd away. + +PROTEUS Know, noble lord, they have devised a mean + How he her chamber-window will ascend + And with a corded ladder fetch her down; + For which the youthful lover now is gone + And this way comes he with it presently; + Where, if it please you, you may intercept him. + But, good my Lord, do it so cunningly + That my discovery be not aimed at; + For love of you, not hate unto my friend, + Hath made me publisher of this pretence. + +DUKE Upon mine honour, he shall never know + That I had any light from thee of this. + +PROTEUS Adieu, my Lord; Sir Valentine is coming. + + [Exit] + + [Enter VALENTINE] + +DUKE Sir Valentine, whither away so fast? + +VALENTINE Please it your grace, there is a messenger + That stays to bear my letters to my friends, + And I am going to deliver them. + +DUKE Be they of much import? + +VALENTINE The tenor of them doth but signify + My health and happy being at your court. + +DUKE Nay then, no matter; stay with me awhile; + I am to break with thee of some affairs + That touch me near, wherein thou must be secret. + 'Tis not unknown to thee that I have sought + To match my friend Sir Thurio to my daughter. + +VALENTINE I know it well, my Lord; and, sure, the match + Were rich and honourable; besides, the gentleman + Is full of virtue, bounty, worth and qualities + Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter: + Cannot your Grace win her to fancy him? + +DUKE No, trust me; she is peevish, sullen, froward, + Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty, + Neither regarding that she is my child + Nor fearing me as if I were her father; + And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers, + Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her; + And, where I thought the remnant of mine age + Should have been cherish'd by her child-like duty, + I now am full resolved to take a wife + And turn her out to who will take her in: + Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; + For me and my possessions she esteems not. + +VALENTINE What would your Grace have me to do in this? + +DUKE There is a lady in Verona here + Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy + And nought esteems my aged eloquence: + Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor-- + For long agone I have forgot to court; + Besides, the fashion of the time is changed-- + How and which way I may bestow myself + To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. + +VALENTINE Win her with gifts, if she respect not words: + Dumb jewels often in their silent kind + More than quick words do move a woman's mind. + +DUKE But she did scorn a present that I sent her. + +VALENTINE A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her. + Send her another; never give her o'er; + For scorn at first makes after-love the more. + If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you, + But rather to beget more love in you: + If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; + For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. + Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; + For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away!' + Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces; + Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces. + That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, + If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. + +DUKE But she I mean is promised by her friends + Unto a youthful gentleman of worth, + And kept severely from resort of men, + That no man hath access by day to her. + +VALENTINE Why, then, I would resort to her by night. + +DUKE Ay, but the doors be lock'd and keys kept safe, + That no man hath recourse to her by night. + +VALENTINE What lets but one may enter at her window? + +DUKE Her chamber is aloft, far from the ground, + And built so shelving that one cannot climb it + Without apparent hazard of his life. + +VALENTINE Why then, a ladder quaintly made of cords, + To cast up, with a pair of anchoring hooks, + Would serve to scale another Hero's tower, + So bold Leander would adventure it. + +DUKE Now, as thou art a gentleman of blood, + Advise me where I may have such a ladder. + +VALENTINE When would you use it? pray, sir, tell me that. + +DUKE This very night; for Love is like a child, + That longs for every thing that he can come by. + +VALENTINE By seven o'clock I'll get you such a ladder. + +DUKE But, hark thee; I will go to her alone: + How shall I best convey the ladder thither? + +VALENTINE It will be light, my lord, that you may bear it + Under a cloak that is of any length. + +DUKE A cloak as long as thine will serve the turn? + +VALENTINE Ay, my good lord. + +DUKE Then let me see thy cloak: + I'll get me one of such another length. + +VALENTINE Why, any cloak will serve the turn, my lord. + +DUKE How shall I fashion me to wear a cloak? + I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. + What letter is this same? What's here? 'To Silvia'! + And here an engine fit for my proceeding. + I'll be so bold to break the seal for once. + + [Reads] + + 'My thoughts do harbour with my Silvia nightly, + And slaves they are to me that send them flying: + O, could their master come and go as lightly, + Himself would lodge where senseless they are lying! + My herald thoughts in thy pure bosom rest them: + While I, their king, that hither them importune, + Do curse the grace that with such grace hath bless'd them, + Because myself do want my servants' fortune: + I curse myself, for they are sent by me, + That they should harbour where their lord would be.' + What's here? + 'Silvia, this night I will enfranchise thee.' + 'Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. + Why, Phaeton,--for thou art Merops' son,-- + Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car + And with thy daring folly burn the world? + Wilt thou reach stars, because they shine on thee? + Go, base intruder! overweening slave! + Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates, + And think my patience, more than thy desert, + Is privilege for thy departure hence: + Thank me for this more than for all the favours + Which all too much I have bestow'd on thee. + But if thou linger in my territories + Longer than swiftest expedition + Will give thee time to leave our royal court, + By heaven! my wrath shall far exceed the love + I ever bore my daughter or thyself. + Be gone! I will not hear thy vain excuse; + But, as thou lovest thy life, make speed from hence. + + [Exit] + +VALENTINE And why not death rather than living torment? + To die is to be banish'd from myself; + And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her + Is self from self: a deadly banishment! + What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? + What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? + Unless it be to think that she is by + And feed upon the shadow of perfection + Except I be by Silvia in the night, + There is no music in the nightingale; + Unless I look on Silvia in the day, + There is no day for me to look upon; + She is my essence, and I leave to be, + If I be not by her fair influence + Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive. + I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom: + Tarry I here, I but attend on death: + But, fly I hence, I fly away from life. + + [Enter PROTEUS and LAUNCE] + +PROTEUS Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. + +LAUNCE Soho, soho! + +PROTEUS What seest thou? + +LAUNCE Him we go to find: there's not a hair on's head + but 'tis a Valentine. + +PROTEUS Valentine? + +VALENTINE No. + +PROTEUS Who then? his spirit? + +VALENTINE Neither. + +PROTEUS What then? + +VALENTINE Nothing. + +LAUNCE Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike? + +PROTEUS Who wouldst thou strike? + +LAUNCE Nothing. + +PROTEUS Villain, forbear. + +LAUNCE Why, sir, I'll strike nothing: I pray you,-- + +PROTEUS Sirrah, I say, forbear. Friend Valentine, a word. + +VALENTINE My ears are stopt and cannot hear good news, + So much of bad already hath possess'd them. + +PROTEUS Then in dumb silence will I bury mine, + For they are harsh, untuneable and bad. + +VALENTINE Is Silvia dead? + +PROTEUS No, Valentine. + +VALENTINE No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia. + Hath she forsworn me? + +PROTEUS No, Valentine. + +VALENTINE No Valentine, if Silvia have forsworn me. + What is your news? + +LAUNCE Sir, there is a proclamation that you are vanished. + +PROTEUS That thou art banished--O, that's the news!-- + From hence, from Silvia and from me thy friend. + +VALENTINE O, I have fed upon this woe already, + And now excess of it will make me surfeit. + Doth Silvia know that I am banished? + +PROTEUS Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom-- + Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force-- + A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: + Those at her father's churlish feet she tender'd; + With them, upon her knees, her humble self; + Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them + As if but now they waxed pale for woe: + But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, + Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears, + Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; + But Valentine, if he be ta'en, must die. + Besides, her intercession chafed him so, + When she for thy repeal was suppliant, + That to close prison he commanded her, + With many bitter threats of biding there. + +VALENTINE No more; unless the next word that thou speak'st + Have some malignant power upon my life: + If so, I pray thee, breathe it in mine ear, + As ending anthem of my endless dolour. + +PROTEUS Cease to lament for that thou canst not help, + And study help for that which thou lament'st. + Time is the nurse and breeder of all good. + Here if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love; + Besides, thy staying will abridge thy life. + Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that + And manage it against despairing thoughts. + Thy letters may be here, though thou art hence; + Which, being writ to me, shall be deliver'd + Even in the milk-white bosom of thy love. + The time now serves not to expostulate: + Come, I'll convey thee through the city-gate; + And, ere I part with thee, confer at large + Of all that may concern thy love-affairs. + As thou lovest Silvia, though not for thyself, + Regard thy danger, and along with me! + +VALENTINE I pray thee, Launce, an if thou seest my boy, + Bid him make haste and meet me at the North-gate. + +PROTEUS Go, sirrah, find him out. Come, Valentine. + +VALENTINE O my dear Silvia! Hapless Valentine! + + [Exeunt VALENTINE and PROTEUS] + +LAUNCE I am but a fool, look you; and yet I have the wit to + think my master is a kind of a knave: but that's + all one, if he be but one knave. He lives not now + that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a + team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who + 'tis I love; and yet 'tis a woman; but what woman, I + will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a milkmaid; yet + 'tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet 'tis + a maid, for she is her master's maid, and serves for + wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel; + which is much in a bare Christian. + + [Pulling out a paper] + + Here is the cate-log of her condition. + 'Imprimis: She can fetch and carry.' Why, a horse + can do no more: nay, a horse cannot fetch, but only + carry; therefore is she better than a jade. 'Item: + She can milk;' look you, a sweet virtue in a maid + with clean hands. + + [Enter SPEED] + +SPEED How now, Signior Launce! what news with your + mastership? + +LAUNCE With my master's ship? why, it is at sea. + +SPEED Well, your old vice still; mistake the word. What + news, then, in your paper? + +LAUNCE The blackest news that ever thou heardest. + +SPEED Why, man, how black? + +LAUNCE Why, as black as ink. + +SPEED Let me read them. + +LAUNCE Fie on thee, jolt-head! thou canst not read. + +SPEED Thou liest; I can. + +LAUNCE I will try thee. Tell me this: who begot thee? + +SPEED Marry, the son of my grandfather. + +LAUNCE O illiterate loiterer! it was the son of thy + grandmother: this proves that thou canst not read. + +SPEED Come, fool, come; try me in thy paper. + +LAUNCE There; and St. Nicholas be thy speed! + +SPEED [Reads] 'Imprimis: She can milk.' + +LAUNCE Ay, that she can. + +SPEED 'Item: She brews good ale.' + +LAUNCE And thereof comes the proverb: 'Blessing of your + heart, you brew good ale.' + +SPEED 'Item: She can sew.' + +LAUNCE That's as much as to say, Can she so? + +SPEED 'Item: She can knit.' + +LAUNCE What need a man care for a stock with a wench, when + she can knit him a stock? + +SPEED 'Item: She can wash and scour.' + +LAUNCE A special virtue: for then she need not be washed + and scoured. + +SPEED 'Item: She can spin.' + +LAUNCE Then may I set the world on wheels, when she can + spin for her living. + +SPEED 'Item: She hath many nameless virtues.' + +LAUNCE That's as much as to say, bastard virtues; that, + indeed, know not their fathers and therefore have no names. + +SPEED 'Here follow her vices.' + +LAUNCE Close at the heels of her virtues. + +SPEED 'Item: She is not to be kissed fasting in respect + of her breath.' + +LAUNCE Well, that fault may be mended with a breakfast. Read on. + +SPEED 'Item: She hath a sweet mouth.' + +LAUNCE That makes amends for her sour breath. + +SPEED 'Item: She doth talk in her sleep.' + +LAUNCE It's no matter for that, so she sleep not in her talk. + +SPEED 'Item: She is slow in words.' + +LAUNCE O villain, that set this down among her vices! To + be slow in words is a woman's only virtue: I pray + thee, out with't, and place it for her chief virtue. + +SPEED 'Item: She is proud.' + +LAUNCE Out with that too; it was Eve's legacy, and cannot + be ta'en from her. + +SPEED 'Item: She hath no teeth.' + +LAUNCE I care not for that neither, because I love crusts. + +SPEED 'Item: She is curst.' + +LAUNCE Well, the best is, she hath no teeth to bite. + +SPEED 'Item: She will often praise her liquor.' + +LAUNCE If her liquor be good, she shall: if she will not, I + will; for good things should be praised. + +SPEED 'Item: She is too liberal.' + +LAUNCE Of her tongue she cannot, for that's writ down she + is slow of; of her purse she shall not, for that + I'll keep shut: now, of another thing she may, and + that cannot I help. Well, proceed. + +SPEED 'Item: She hath more hair than wit, and more faults + than hairs, and more wealth than faults.' + +LAUNCE Stop there; I'll have her: she was mine, and not + mine, twice or thrice in that last article. + Rehearse that once more. + +SPEED 'Item: She hath more hair than wit,'-- + +LAUNCE More hair than wit? It may be; I'll prove it. The + cover of the salt hides the salt, and therefore it + is more than the salt; the hair that covers the wit + is more than the wit, for the greater hides the + less. What's next? + +SPEED 'And more faults than hairs,'-- + +LAUNCE That's monstrous: O, that that were out! + +SPEED 'And more wealth than faults.' + +LAUNCE Why, that word makes the faults gracious. Well, + I'll have her; and if it be a match, as nothing is + impossible,-- + +SPEED What then? + +LAUNCE Why, then will I tell thee--that thy master stays + for thee at the North-gate. + +SPEED For me? + +LAUNCE For thee! ay, who art thou? he hath stayed for a + better man than thee. + +SPEED And must I go to him? + +LAUNCE Thou must run to him, for thou hast stayed so long + that going will scarce serve the turn. + +SPEED Why didst not tell me sooner? pox of your love letters! + + [Exit] + +LAUNCE Now will he be swinged for reading my letter; an + unmannerly slave, that will thrust himself into + secrets! I'll after, to rejoice in the boy's correction. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The same. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Enter DUKE and THURIO] + +DUKE Sir Thurio, fear not but that she will love you, + Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. + +THURIO Since his exile she hath despised me most, + Forsworn my company and rail'd at me, + That I am desperate of obtaining her. + +DUKE This weak impress of love is as a figure + Trenched in ice, which with an hour's heat + Dissolves to water and doth lose his form. + A little time will melt her frozen thoughts + And worthless Valentine shall be forgot. + + [Enter PROTEUS] + + How now, Sir Proteus! Is your countryman + According to our proclamation gone? + +PROTEUS Gone, my good lord. + +DUKE My daughter takes his going grievously. + +PROTEUS A little time, my lord, will kill that grief. + +DUKE So I believe; but Thurio thinks not so. + Proteus, the good conceit I hold of thee-- + For thou hast shown some sign of good desert-- + Makes me the better to confer with thee. + +PROTEUS Longer than I prove loyal to your grace + Let me not live to look upon your grace. + +DUKE Thou know'st how willingly I would effect + The match between Sir Thurio and my daughter. + +PROTEUS I do, my lord. + +DUKE And also, I think, thou art not ignorant + How she opposes her against my will + +PROTEUS She did, my lord, when Valentine was here. + +DUKE Ay, and perversely she persevers so. + What might we do to make the girl forget + The love of Valentine and love Sir Thurio? + +PROTEUS The best way is to slander Valentine + With falsehood, cowardice and poor descent, + Three things that women highly hold in hate. + +DUKE Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke in hate. + +PROTEUS Ay, if his enemy deliver it: + Therefore it must with circumstance be spoken + By one whom she esteemeth as his friend. + +DUKE Then you must undertake to slander him. + +PROTEUS And that, my lord, I shall be loath to do: + 'Tis an ill office for a gentleman, + Especially against his very friend. + +DUKE Where your good word cannot advantage him, + Your slander never can endamage him; + Therefore the office is indifferent, + Being entreated to it by your friend. + +PROTEUS You have prevail'd, my lord; if I can do it + By ought that I can speak in his dispraise, + She shall not long continue love to him. + But say this weed her love from Valentine, + It follows not that she will love Sir Thurio. + +THURIO Therefore, as you unwind her love from him, + Lest it should ravel and be good to none, + You must provide to bottom it on me; + Which must be done by praising me as much + As you in worth dispraise Sir Valentine. + +DUKE And, Proteus, we dare trust you in this kind, + Because we know, on Valentine's report, + You are already Love's firm votary + And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. + Upon this warrant shall you have access + Where you with Silvia may confer at large; + For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy, + And, for your friend's sake, will be glad of you; + Where you may temper her by your persuasion + To hate young Valentine and love my friend. + +PROTEUS As much as I can do, I will effect: + But you, Sir Thurio, are not sharp enough; + You must lay lime to tangle her desires + By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes + Should be full-fraught with serviceable vows. + +DUKE Ay, + Much is the force of heaven-bred poesy. + +PROTEUS Say that upon the altar of her beauty + You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: + Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears + Moist it again, and frame some feeling line + That may discover such integrity: + For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, + Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, + Make tigers tame and huge leviathans + Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. + After your dire-lamenting elegies, + Visit by night your lady's chamber-window + With some sweet concert; to their instruments + Tune a deploring dump: the night's dead silence + Will well become such sweet-complaining grievance. + This, or else nothing, will inherit her. + +DUKE This discipline shows thou hast been in love. + +THURIO And thy advice this night I'll put in practise. + Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, + Let us into the city presently + To sort some gentlemen well skill'd in music. + I have a sonnet that will serve the turn + To give the onset to thy good advice. + +DUKE About it, gentlemen! + +PROTEUS We'll wait upon your grace till after supper, + And afterward determine our proceedings. + +DUKE Even now about it! I will pardon you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The frontiers of Mantua. A forest. + + + [Enter certain Outlaws] + +First Outlaw Fellows, stand fast; I see a passenger. + +Second Outlaw If there be ten, shrink not, but down with 'em. + + [Enter VALENTINE and SPEED] + +Third Outlaw Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about ye: + If not: we'll make you sit and rifle you. + +SPEED Sir, we are undone; these are the villains + That all the travellers do fear so much. + +VALENTINE My friends,-- + +First Outlaw That's not so, sir: we are your enemies. + +Second Outlaw Peace! we'll hear him. + +Third Outlaw Ay, by my beard, will we, for he's a proper man. + +VALENTINE Then know that I have little wealth to lose: + A man I am cross'd with adversity; + My riches are these poor habiliments, + Of which if you should here disfurnish me, + You take the sum and substance that I have. + +Second Outlaw Whither travel you? + +VALENTINE To Verona. + +First Outlaw Whence came you? + +VALENTINE From Milan. + +Third Outlaw Have you long sojourned there? + +VALENTINE Some sixteen months, and longer might have stay'd, + If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. + +First Outlaw What, were you banish'd thence? + +VALENTINE I was. + +Second Outlaw For what offence? + +VALENTINE For that which now torments me to rehearse: + I kill'd a man, whose death I much repent; + But yet I slew him manfully in fight, + Without false vantage or base treachery. + +First Outlaw Why, ne'er repent it, if it were done so. + But were you banish'd for so small a fault? + +VALENTINE I was, and held me glad of such a doom. + +Second Outlaw Have you the tongues? + +VALENTINE My youthful travel therein made me happy, + Or else I often had been miserable. + +Third Outlaw By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's fat friar, + This fellow were a king for our wild faction! + +First Outlaw We'll have him. Sirs, a word. + +SPEED Master, be one of them; it's an honourable kind of thievery. + +VALENTINE Peace, villain! + +Second Outlaw Tell us this: have you any thing to take to? + +VALENTINE Nothing but my fortune. + +Third Outlaw Know, then, that some of us are gentlemen, + Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth + Thrust from the company of awful men: + Myself was from Verona banished + For practising to steal away a lady, + An heir, and near allied unto the duke. + +Second Outlaw And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, + Who, in my mood, I stabb'd unto the heart. + +First Outlaw And I for such like petty crimes as these, + But to the purpose--for we cite our faults, + That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives; + And partly, seeing you are beautified + With goodly shape and by your own report + A linguist and a man of such perfection + As we do in our quality much want-- + +Second Outlaw Indeed, because you are a banish'd man, + Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you: + Are you content to be our general? + To make a virtue of necessity + And live, as we do, in this wilderness? + +Third Outlaw What say'st thou? wilt thou be of our consort? + Say ay, and be the captain of us all: + We'll do thee homage and be ruled by thee, + Love thee as our commander and our king. + +First Outlaw But if thou scorn our courtesy, thou diest. + +Second Outlaw Thou shalt not live to brag what we have offer'd. + +VALENTINE I take your offer and will live with you, + Provided that you do no outrages + On silly women or poor passengers. + +Third Outlaw No, we detest such vile base practises. + Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, + And show thee all the treasure we have got, + Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Milan. Outside the DUKE's palace, under SILVIA's chamber. + + + [Enter PROTEUS] + +PROTEUS Already have I been false to Valentine + And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. + Under the colour of commending him, + I have access my own love to prefer: + But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, + To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. + When I protest true loyalty to her, + She twits me with my falsehood to my friend; + When to her beauty I commend my vows, + She bids me think how I have been forsworn + In breaking faith with Julia whom I loved: + And notwithstanding all her sudden quips, + The least whereof would quell a lover's hope, + Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love, + The more it grows and fawneth on her still. + But here comes Thurio: now must we to her window, + And give some evening music to her ear. + + [Enter THURIO and Musicians] + +THURIO How now, Sir Proteus, are you crept before us? + +PROTEUS Ay, gentle Thurio: for you know that love + Will creep in service where it cannot go. + +THURIO Ay, but I hope, sir, that you love not here. + +PROTEUS Sir, but I do; or else I would be hence. + +THURIO Who? Silvia? + +PROTEUS Ay, Silvia; for your sake. + +THURIO I thank you for your own. Now, gentlemen, + Let's tune, and to it lustily awhile. + + [Enter, at a distance, Host, and JULIA in boy's clothes] + +Host Now, my young guest, methinks you're allycholly: I + pray you, why is it? + +JULIA Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. + +Host Come, we'll have you merry: I'll bring you where + you shall hear music and see the gentleman that you asked for. + +JULIA But shall I hear him speak? + +Host Ay, that you shall. + +JULIA That will be music. + + [Music plays] + +Host Hark, hark! + +JULIA Is he among these? + +Host Ay: but, peace! let's hear 'em. + + SONG. + Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her, + That she might admired be. + + Is she kind as she is fair? + For beauty lives with kindness. + Love doth to her eyes repair, + To help him of his blindness, + And, being help'd, inhabits there. + + Then to Silvia let us sing, + That Silvia is excelling; + She excels each mortal thing + Upon the dull earth dwelling: + To her let us garlands bring. + +Host How now! are you sadder than you were before? How + do you, man? the music likes you not. + +JULIA You mistake; the musician likes me not. + +Host Why, my pretty youth? + +JULIA He plays false, father. + +Host How? out of tune on the strings? + +JULIA Not so; but yet so false that he grieves my very + heart-strings. + +Host You have a quick ear. + +JULIA Ay, I would I were deaf; it makes me have a slow heart. + +Host I perceive you delight not in music. + +JULIA Not a whit, when it jars so. + +Host Hark, what fine change is in the music! + +JULIA Ay, that change is the spite. + +Host You would have them always play but one thing? + +JULIA I would always have one play but one thing. + But, host, doth this Sir Proteus that we talk on + Often resort unto this gentlewoman? + +Host I tell you what Launce, his man, told me: he loved + her out of all nick. + +JULIA Where is Launce? + +Host Gone to seek his dog; which tomorrow, by his + master's command, he must carry for a present to his lady. + +JULIA Peace! stand aside: the company parts. + +PROTEUS Sir Thurio, fear not you: I will so plead + That you shall say my cunning drift excels. + +THURIO Where meet we? + +PROTEUS At Saint Gregory's well. + +THURIO Farewell. + + [Exeunt THURIO and Musicians] + + [Enter SILVIA above] + +PROTEUS Madam, good even to your ladyship. + +SILVIA I thank you for your music, gentlemen. + Who is that that spake? + +PROTEUS One, lady, if you knew his pure heart's truth, + You would quickly learn to know him by his voice. + +SILVIA Sir Proteus, as I take it. + +PROTEUS Sir Proteus, gentle lady, and your servant. + +SILVIA What's your will? + +PROTEUS That I may compass yours. + +SILVIA You have your wish; my will is even this: + That presently you hie you home to bed. + Thou subtle, perjured, false, disloyal man! + Think'st thou I am so shallow, so conceitless, + To be seduced by thy flattery, + That hast deceived so many with thy vows? + Return, return, and make thy love amends. + For me, by this pale queen of night I swear, + I am so far from granting thy request + That I despise thee for thy wrongful suit, + And by and by intend to chide myself + Even for this time I spend in talking to thee. + +PROTEUS I grant, sweet love, that I did love a lady; + But she is dead. + +JULIA [Aside] 'Twere false, if I should speak it; + For I am sure she is not buried. + +SILVIA Say that she be; yet Valentine thy friend + Survives; to whom, thyself art witness, + I am betroth'd: and art thou not ashamed + To wrong him with thy importunacy? + +PROTEUS I likewise hear that Valentine is dead. + +SILVIA And so suppose am I; for in his grave + Assure thyself my love is buried. + +PROTEUS Sweet lady, let me rake it from the earth. + +SILVIA Go to thy lady's grave and call hers thence, + Or, at the least, in hers sepulchre thine. + +JULIA [Aside] He heard not that. + +PROTEUS Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, + Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, + The picture that is hanging in your chamber; + To that I'll speak, to that I'll sigh and weep: + For since the substance of your perfect self + Is else devoted, I am but a shadow; + And to your shadow will I make true love. + +JULIA [Aside] If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, + deceive it, + And make it but a shadow, as I am. + +SILVIA I am very loath to be your idol, sir; + But since your falsehood shall become you well + To worship shadows and adore false shapes, + Send to me in the morning and I'll send it: + And so, good rest. + +PROTEUS As wretches have o'ernight + That wait for execution in the morn. + + [Exeunt PROTEUS and SILVIA severally] + +JULIA Host, will you go? + +Host By my halidom, I was fast asleep. + +JULIA Pray you, where lies Sir Proteus? + +Host Marry, at my house. Trust me, I think 'tis almost + day. + +JULIA Not so; but it hath been the longest night + That e'er I watch'd and the most heaviest. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Enter EGLAMOUR] + +EGLAMOUR This is the hour that Madam Silvia + Entreated me to call and know her mind: + There's some great matter she'ld employ me in. + Madam, madam! + + [Enter SILVIA above] + +SILVIA Who calls? + +EGLAMOUR Your servant and your friend; + One that attends your ladyship's command. + +SILVIA Sir Eglamour, a thousand times good morrow. + +EGLAMOUR As many, worthy lady, to yourself: + According to your ladyship's impose, + I am thus early come to know what service + It is your pleasure to command me in. + +SILVIA O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman-- + Think not I flatter, for I swear I do not-- + Valiant, wise, remorseful, well accomplish'd: + Thou art not ignorant what dear good will + I bear unto the banish'd Valentine, + Nor how my father would enforce me marry + Vain Thurio, whom my very soul abhors. + Thyself hast loved; and I have heard thee say + No grief did ever come so near thy heart + As when thy lady and thy true love died, + Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity. + Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, + To Mantua, where I hear he makes abode; + And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, + I do desire thy worthy company, + Upon whose faith and honour I repose. + Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, + But think upon my grief, a lady's grief, + And on the justice of my flying hence, + To keep me from a most unholy match, + Which heaven and fortune still rewards with plagues. + I do desire thee, even from a heart + As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, + To bear me company and go with me: + If not, to hide what I have said to thee, + That I may venture to depart alone. + +EGLAMOUR Madam, I pity much your grievances; + Which since I know they virtuously are placed, + I give consent to go along with you, + Recking as little what betideth me + As much I wish all good befortune you. + When will you go? + +SILVIA This evening coming. + +EGLAMOUR Where shall I meet you? + +SILVIA At Friar Patrick's cell, + Where I intend holy confession. + +EGLAMOUR I will not fail your ladyship. Good morrow, gentle lady. + +SILVIA Good morrow, kind Sir Eglamour. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The same. + + + [Enter LAUNCE, with his his Dog] + +LAUNCE When a man's servant shall play the cur with him, + look you, it goes hard: one that I brought up of a + puppy; one that I saved from drowning, when three or + four of his blind brothers and sisters went to it. + I have taught him, even as one would say precisely, + 'thus I would teach a dog.' I was sent to deliver + him as a present to Mistress Silvia from my master; + and I came no sooner into the dining-chamber but he + steps me to her trencher and steals her capon's leg: + O, 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep himself + in all companies! I would have, as one should say, + one that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, + as it were, a dog at all things. If I had not had + more wit than he, to take a fault upon me that he did, + I think verily he had been hanged for't; sure as I + live, he had suffered for't; you shall judge. He + thrusts me himself into the company of three or four + gentlemanlike dogs under the duke's table: he had + not been there--bless the mark!--a pissing while, but + all the chamber smelt him. 'Out with the dog!' says + one: 'What cur is that?' says another: 'Whip him + out' says the third: 'Hang him up' says the duke. + I, having been acquainted with the smell before, + knew it was Crab, and goes me to the fellow that + whips the dogs: 'Friend,' quoth I, 'you mean to whip + the dog?' 'Ay, marry, do I,' quoth he. 'You do him + the more wrong,' quoth I; ''twas I did the thing you + wot of.' He makes me no more ado, but whips me out + of the chamber. How many masters would do this for + his servant? Nay, I'll be sworn, I have sat in the + stocks for puddings he hath stolen, otherwise he had + been executed; I have stood on the pillory for geese + he hath killed, otherwise he had suffered for't. + Thou thinkest not of this now. Nay, I remember the + trick you served me when I took my leave of Madam + Silvia: did not I bid thee still mark me and do as I + do? when didst thou see me heave up my leg and make + water against a gentlewoman's farthingale? didst + thou ever see me do such a trick? + + [Enter PROTEUS and JULIA] + +PROTEUS Sebastian is thy name? I like thee well + And will employ thee in some service presently. + +JULIA In what you please: I'll do what I can. + +PROTEUS I hope thou wilt. + + [To LAUNCE] + + How now, you whoreson peasant! + Where have you been these two days loitering? + +LAUNCE Marry, sir, I carried Mistress Silvia the dog you bade me. + +PROTEUS And what says she to my little jewel? + +LAUNCE Marry, she says your dog was a cur, and tells you + currish thanks is good enough for such a present. + +PROTEUS But she received my dog? + +LAUNCE No, indeed, did she not: here have I brought him + back again. + +PROTEUS What, didst thou offer her this from me? + +LAUNCE Ay, sir: the other squirrel was stolen from me by + the hangman boys in the market-place: and then I + offered her mine own, who is a dog as big as ten of + yours, and therefore the gift the greater. + +PROTEUS Go get thee hence, and find my dog again, + Or ne'er return again into my sight. + Away, I say! stay'st thou to vex me here? + + [Exit LAUNCE] + + A slave, that still an end turns me to shame! + Sebastian, I have entertained thee, + Partly that I have need of such a youth + That can with some discretion do my business, + For 'tis no trusting to yond foolish lout, + But chiefly for thy face and thy behavior, + Which, if my augury deceive me not, + Witness good bringing up, fortune and truth: + Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee. + Go presently and take this ring with thee, + Deliver it to Madam Silvia: + She loved me well deliver'd it to me. + +JULIA It seems you loved not her, to leave her token. + She is dead, belike? + +PROTEUS Not so; I think she lives. + +JULIA Alas! + +PROTEUS Why dost thou cry 'alas'? + +JULIA I cannot choose + But pity her. + +PROTEUS Wherefore shouldst thou pity her? + +JULIA Because methinks that she loved you as well + As you do love your lady Silvia: + She dreams of him that has forgot her love; + You dote on her that cares not for your love. + 'Tis pity love should be so contrary; + And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!' + +PROTEUS Well, give her that ring and therewithal + This letter. That's her chamber. Tell my lady + I claim the promise for her heavenly picture. + Your message done, hie home unto my chamber, + Where thou shalt find me, sad and solitary. + + [Exit] + +JULIA How many women would do such a message? + Alas, poor Proteus! thou hast entertain'd + A fox to be the shepherd of thy lambs. + Alas, poor fool! why do I pity him + That with his very heart despiseth me? + Because he loves her, he despiseth me; + Because I love him I must pity him. + This ring I gave him when he parted from me, + To bind him to remember my good will; + And now am I, unhappy messenger, + To plead for that which I would not obtain, + To carry that which I would have refused, + To praise his faith which I would have dispraised. + I am my master's true-confirmed love; + But cannot be true servant to my master, + Unless I prove false traitor to myself. + Yet will I woo for him, but yet so coldly + As, heaven it knows, I would not have him speed. + + [Enter SILVIA, attended] + + Gentlewoman, good day! I pray you, be my mean + To bring me where to speak with Madam Silvia. + +SILVIA What would you with her, if that I be she? + +JULIA If you be she, I do entreat your patience + To hear me speak the message I am sent on. + +SILVIA From whom? + +JULIA From my master, Sir Proteus, madam. + +SILVIA O, he sends you for a picture. + +JULIA Ay, madam. + +SILVIA Ursula, bring my picture here. + Go give your master this: tell him from me, + One Julia, that his changing thoughts forget, + Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. + +JULIA Madam, please you peruse this letter.-- + Pardon me, madam; I have unadvised + Deliver'd you a paper that I should not: + This is the letter to your ladyship. + +SILVIA I pray thee, let me look on that again. + +JULIA It may not be; good madam, pardon me. + +SILVIA There, hold! + I will not look upon your master's lines: + I know they are stuff'd with protestations + And full of new-found oaths; which he will break + As easily as I do tear his paper. + +JULIA Madam, he sends your ladyship this ring. + +SILVIA The more shame for him that he sends it me; + For I have heard him say a thousand times + His Julia gave it him at his departure. + Though his false finger have profaned the ring, + Mine shall not do his Julia so much wrong. + +JULIA She thanks you. + +SILVIA What say'st thou? + +JULIA I thank you, madam, that you tender her. + Poor gentlewoman! my master wrongs her much. + +SILVIA Dost thou know her? + +JULIA Almost as well as I do know myself: + To think upon her woes I do protest + That I have wept a hundred several times. + +SILVIA Belike she thinks that Proteus hath forsook her. + +JULIA I think she doth; and that's her cause of sorrow. + +SILVIA Is she not passing fair? + +JULIA She hath been fairer, madam, than she is: + When she did think my master loved her well, + She, in my judgment, was as fair as you: + But since she did neglect her looking-glass + And threw her sun-expelling mask away, + The air hath starved the roses in her cheeks + And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, + That now she is become as black as I. + +SILVIA How tall was she? + +JULIA About my stature; for at Pentecost, + When all our pageants of delight were play'd, + Our youth got me to play the woman's part, + And I was trimm'd in Madam Julia's gown, + Which served me as fit, by all men's judgments, + As if the garment had been made for me: + Therefore I know she is about my height. + And at that time I made her weep agood, + For I did play a lamentable part: + Madam, 'twas Ariadne passioning + For Theseus' perjury and unjust flight; + Which I so lively acted with my tears + That my poor mistress, moved therewithal, + Wept bitterly; and would I might be dead + If I in thought felt not her very sorrow! + +SILVIA She is beholding to thee, gentle youth. + Alas, poor lady, desolate and left! + I weep myself to think upon thy words. + Here, youth, there is my purse; I give thee this + For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lovest her. + Farewell. + + [Exit SILVIA, with attendants] + +JULIA And she shall thank you for't, if e'er you know her. + A virtuous gentlewoman, mild and beautiful + I hope my master's suit will be but cold, + Since she respects my mistress' love so much. + Alas, how love can trifle with itself! + Here is her picture: let me see; I think, + If I had such a tire, this face of mine + Were full as lovely as is this of hers: + And yet the painter flatter'd her a little, + Unless I flatter with myself too much. + Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: + If that be all the difference in his love, + I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. + Her eyes are grey as glass, and so are mine: + Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high. + What should it be that he respects in her + But I can make respective in myself, + If this fond Love were not a blinded god? + Come, shadow, come and take this shadow up, + For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form, + Thou shalt be worshipp'd, kiss'd, loved and adored! + And, were there sense in his idolatry, + My substance should be statue in thy stead. + I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake, + That used me so; or else, by Jove I vow, + I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes + To make my master out of love with thee! + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Milan. An abbey. + + + [Enter EGLAMOUR] + +EGLAMOUR The sun begins to gild the western sky; + And now it is about the very hour + That Silvia, at Friar Patrick's cell, should meet me. + She will not fail, for lovers break not hours, + Unless it be to come before their time; + So much they spur their expedition. + See where she comes. + + [Enter SILVIA] + + Lady, a happy evening! + +SILVIA Amen, amen! Go on, good Eglamour, + Out at the postern by the abbey-wall: + I fear I am attended by some spies. + +EGLAMOUR Fear not: the forest is not three leagues off; + If we recover that, we are sure enough. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The same. The DUKE's palace. + + + [Enter THURIO, PROTEUS, and JULIA] + +THURIO Sir Proteus, what says Silvia to my suit? + +PROTEUS O, sir, I find her milder than she was; + And yet she takes exceptions at your person. + +THURIO What, that my leg is too long? + +PROTEUS No; that it is too little. + +THURIO I'll wear a boot, to make it somewhat rounder. + +JULIA [Aside] But love will not be spurr'd to what + it loathes. + +THURIO What says she to my face? + +PROTEUS She says it is a fair one. + +THURIO Nay then, the wanton lies; my face is black. + +PROTEUS But pearls are fair; and the old saying is, + Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. + +JULIA [Aside] 'Tis true; such pearls as put out + ladies' eyes; + For I had rather wink than look on them. + +THURIO How likes she my discourse? + +PROTEUS Ill, when you talk of war. + +THURIO But well, when I discourse of love and peace? + +JULIA [Aside] But better, indeed, when you hold your peace. + +THURIO What says she to my valour? + +PROTEUS O, sir, she makes no doubt of that. + +JULIA [Aside] She needs not, when she knows it cowardice. + +THURIO What says she to my birth? + +PROTEUS That you are well derived. + +JULIA [Aside] True; from a gentleman to a fool. + +THURIO Considers she my possessions? + +PROTEUS O, ay; and pities them. + +THURIO Wherefore? + +JULIA [Aside] That such an ass should owe them. + +PROTEUS That they are out by lease. + +JULIA Here comes the duke. + + [Enter DUKE] + +DUKE How now, Sir Proteus! how now, Thurio! + Which of you saw Sir Eglamour of late? + +THURIO Not I. + +PROTEUS Nor I. + +DUKE Saw you my daughter? + +PROTEUS Neither. + +DUKE Why then, + She's fled unto that peasant Valentine; + And Eglamour is in her company. + 'Tis true; for Friar Laurence met them both, + As he in penance wander'd through the forest; + Him he knew well, and guess'd that it was she, + But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it; + Besides, she did intend confession + At Patrick's cell this even; and there she was not; + These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence. + Therefore, I pray you, stand not to discourse, + But mount you presently and meet with me + Upon the rising of the mountain-foot + That leads towards Mantua, whither they are fled: + Dispatch, sweet gentlemen, and follow me. + + [Exit] + +THURIO Why, this it is to be a peevish girl, + That flies her fortune when it follows her. + I'll after, more to be revenged on Eglamour + Than for the love of reckless Silvia. + + [Exit] + +PROTEUS And I will follow, more for Silvia's love + Than hate of Eglamour that goes with her. + + [Exit] + +JULIA And I will follow, more to cross that love + Than hate for Silvia that is gone for love. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The frontiers of Mantua. The forest. + + + [Enter Outlaws with SILVIA] + +First Outlaw Come, come, + Be patient; we must bring you to our captain. + +SILVIA A thousand more mischances than this one + Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. + +Second Outlaw Come, bring her away. + +First Outlaw Where is the gentleman that was with her? + +Third Outlaw Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us, + But Moyses and Valerius follow him. + Go thou with her to the west end of the wood; + There is our captain: we'll follow him that's fled; + The thicket is beset; he cannot 'scape. + +First Outlaw Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave: + Fear not; he bears an honourable mind, + And will not use a woman lawlessly. + +SILVIA O Valentine, this I endure for thee! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the forest. + + + [Enter VALENTINE] + +VALENTINE How use doth breed a habit in a man! + This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, + I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: + Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, + And to the nightingale's complaining notes + Tune my distresses and record my woes. + O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, + Leave not the mansion so long tenantless, + Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall + And leave no memory of what it was! + Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; + Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! + What halloing and what stir is this to-day? + These are my mates, that make their wills their law, + Have some unhappy passenger in chase. + They love me well; yet I have much to do + To keep them from uncivil outrages. + Withdraw thee, Valentine: who's this comes here? + + [Enter PROTEUS, SILVIA, and JULIA] + +PROTEUS Madam, this service I have done for you, + Though you respect not aught your servant doth, + To hazard life and rescue you from him + That would have forced your honour and your love; + Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look; + A smaller boon than this I cannot beg + And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. + +VALENTINE [Aside] How like a dream is this I see and hear! + Love, lend me patience to forbear awhile. + +SILVIA O miserable, unhappy that I am! + +PROTEUS Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came; + But by my coming I have made you happy. + +SILVIA By thy approach thou makest me most unhappy. + +JULIA [Aside] And me, when he approacheth to your presence. + +SILVIA Had I been seized by a hungry lion, + I would have been a breakfast to the beast, + Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. + O, Heaven be judge how I love Valentine, + Whose life's as tender to me as my soul! + And full as much, for more there cannot be, + I do detest false perjured Proteus. + Therefore be gone; solicit me no more. + +PROTEUS What dangerous action, stood it next to death, + Would I not undergo for one calm look! + O, 'tis the curse in love, and still approved, + When women cannot love where they're beloved! + +SILVIA When Proteus cannot love where he's beloved. + Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, + For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy faith + Into a thousand oaths; and all those oaths + Descended into perjury, to love me. + Thou hast no faith left now, unless thou'dst two; + And that's far worse than none; better have none + Than plural faith which is too much by one: + Thou counterfeit to thy true friend! + +PROTEUS In love + Who respects friend? + +SILVIA All men but Proteus. + +PROTEUS Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words + Can no way change you to a milder form, + I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end, + And love you 'gainst the nature of love,--force ye. + +SILVIA O heaven! + +PROTEUS I'll force thee yield to my desire. + +VALENTINE Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch, + Thou friend of an ill fashion! + +PROTEUS Valentine! + +VALENTINE Thou common friend, that's without faith or love, + For such is a friend now; treacherous man! + Thou hast beguiled my hopes; nought but mine eye + Could have persuaded me: now I dare not say + I have one friend alive; thou wouldst disprove me. + Who should be trusted, when one's own right hand + Is perjured to the bosom? Proteus, + I am sorry I must never trust thee more, + But count the world a stranger for thy sake. + The private wound is deepest: O time most accurst, + 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst! + +PROTEUS My shame and guilt confounds me. + Forgive me, Valentine: if hearty sorrow + Be a sufficient ransom for offence, + I tender 't here; I do as truly suffer + As e'er I did commit. + +VALENTINE Then I am paid; + And once again I do receive thee honest. + Who by repentance is not satisfied + Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased. + By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased: + And, that my love may appear plain and free, + All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. + +JULIA O me unhappy! + + [Swoons] + +PROTEUS Look to the boy. + +VALENTINE Why, boy! why, wag! how now! what's the matter? + Look up; speak. + +JULIA O good sir, my master charged me to deliver a ring + to Madam Silvia, which, out of my neglect, was never done. + +PROTEUS Where is that ring, boy? + +JULIA Here 'tis; this is it. + +PROTEUS How! let me see: + Why, this is the ring I gave to Julia. + +JULIA O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook: + This is the ring you sent to Silvia. + +PROTEUS But how camest thou by this ring? At my depart + I gave this unto Julia. + +JULIA And Julia herself did give it me; + And Julia herself hath brought it hither. + +PROTEUS How! Julia! + +JULIA Behold her that gave aim to all thy oaths, + And entertain'd 'em deeply in her heart. + How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root! + O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush! + Be thou ashamed that I have took upon me + Such an immodest raiment, if shame live + In a disguise of love: + It is the lesser blot, modesty finds, + Women to change their shapes than men their minds. + +PROTEUS Than men their minds! 'tis true. + O heaven! were man + But constant, he were perfect. That one error + Fills him with faults; makes him run through all the sins: + Inconstancy falls off ere it begins. + What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy + More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? + +VALENTINE Come, come, a hand from either: + Let me be blest to make this happy close; + 'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. + +PROTEUS Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever. + +JULIA And I mine. + + [Enter Outlaws, with DUKE and THURIO] + +Outlaws A prize, a prize, a prize! + +VALENTINE Forbear, forbear, I say! it is my lord the duke. + Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced, + Banished Valentine. + +DUKE Sir Valentine! + +THURIO Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. + +VALENTINE Thurio, give back, or else embrace thy death; + Come not within the measure of my wrath; + Do not name Silvia thine; if once again, + Verona shall not hold thee. Here she stands; + Take but possession of her with a touch: + I dare thee but to breathe upon my love. + +THURIO Sir Valentine, I care not for her, I; + I hold him but a fool that will endanger + His body for a girl that loves him not: + I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. + +DUKE The more degenerate and base art thou, + To make such means for her as thou hast done + And leave her on such slight conditions. + Now, by the honour of my ancestry, + I do applaud thy spirit, Valentine, + And think thee worthy of an empress' love: + Know then, I here forget all former griefs, + Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again, + Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd merit, + To which I thus subscribe: Sir Valentine, + Thou art a gentleman and well derived; + Take thou thy Silvia, for thou hast deserved her. + +VALENTINE I thank your grace; the gift hath made me happy. + I now beseech you, for your daughter's sake, + To grant one boom that I shall ask of you. + +DUKE I grant it, for thine own, whate'er it be. + +VALENTINE These banish'd men that I have kept withal + Are men endued with worthy qualities: + Forgive them what they have committed here + And let them be recall'd from their exile: + They are reformed, civil, full of good + And fit for great employment, worthy lord. + +DUKE Thou hast prevail'd; I pardon them and thee: + Dispose of them as thou know'st their deserts. + Come, let us go: we will include all jars + With triumphs, mirth and rare solemnity. + +VALENTINE And, as we walk along, I dare be bold + With our discourse to make your grace to smile. + What think you of this page, my lord? + +DUKE I think the boy hath grace in him; he blushes. + +VALENTINE I warrant you, my lord, more grace than boy. + +DUKE What mean you by that saying? + +VALENTINE Please you, I'll tell you as we pass along, + That you will wonder what hath fortuned. + Come, Proteus; 'tis your penance but to hear + The story of your loves discovered: + That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; + One feast, one house, one mutual happiness. + + [Exeunt] + THE WINTER'S TALE + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +LEONTES king of Sicilia. + +MAMILLIUS young prince of Sicilia. + + +CAMILLO | + | +ANTIGONUS | + | Four Lords of Sicilia. +CLEOMENES | + | +DION | + + +POLIXENES King of Bohemia. + +FLORIZEL Prince of Bohemia. + +ARCHIDAMUS a Lord of Bohemia. + +Old Shepherd reputed father of Perdita. (Shepherd:) + +Clown his son. + +AUTOLYCUS a rogue. + + A Mariner. (Mariner:) + + A Gaoler. (Gaoler:) + +HERMIONE queen to Leontes. + +PERDITA daughter to Leontes and Hermione. + +PAULINA wife to Antigonus. + +EMILIA a lady attending on Hermione, + + +MOPSA | + | Shepherdesses. +DORCAS | + + + Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, + and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses. + (First Lord:) + (Gentleman:) + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + (Third Gentleman:) + (First Lady:) + (Second Lady:) + (Officer:) + (Servant:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + +Time as Chorus. + + +SCENE Sicilia, and Bohemia. + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Antechamber in LEONTES' palace. + + + + [Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS] + +ARCHIDAMUS If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on + the like occasion whereon my services are now on + foot, you shall see, as I have said, great + difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia. + +CAMILLO I think, this coming summer, the King of Sicilia + means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him. + +ARCHIDAMUS Wherein our entertainment shall shame us we will be + justified in our loves; for indeed-- + +CAMILLO Beseech you,-- + +ARCHIDAMUS Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: + we cannot with such magnificence--in so rare--I know + not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, + that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, + may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse + us. + +CAMILLO You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely. + +ARCHIDAMUS Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me + and as mine honesty puts it to utterance. + +CAMILLO Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind to Bohemia. + They were trained together in their childhoods; and + there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, + which cannot choose but branch now. Since their + more mature dignities and royal necessities made + separation of their society, their encounters, + though not personal, have been royally attorneyed + with interchange of gifts, letters, loving + embassies; that they have seemed to be together, + though absent, shook hands, as over a vast, and + embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed + winds. The heavens continue their loves! + +ARCHIDAMUS I think there is not in the world either malice or + matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable + comfort of your young prince Mamillius: it is a + gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came + into my note. + +CAMILLO I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: it + is a gallant child; one that indeed physics the + subject, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on + crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to + see him a man. + +ARCHIDAMUS Would they else be content to die? + +CAMILLO Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should + desire to live. + +ARCHIDAMUS If the king had no son, they would desire to live + on crutches till he had one. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A room of state in the same. + + + + [Enter LEONTES, HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, + POLIXENES, CAMILLO, and Attendants] + +POLIXENES Nine changes of the watery star hath been + The shepherd's note since we have left our throne + Without a burthen: time as long again + Would be find up, my brother, with our thanks; + And yet we should, for perpetuity, + Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher, + Yet standing in rich place, I multiply + With one 'We thank you' many thousands moe + That go before it. + +LEONTES Stay your thanks a while; + And pay them when you part. + +POLIXENES Sir, that's to-morrow. + I am question'd by my fears, of what may chance + Or breed upon our absence; that may blow + No sneaping winds at home, to make us say + 'This is put forth too truly:' besides, I have stay'd + To tire your royalty. + +LEONTES We are tougher, brother, + Than you can put us to't. + +POLIXENES No longer stay. + +LEONTES One seven-night longer. + +POLIXENES Very sooth, to-morrow. + +LEONTES We'll part the time between's then; and in that + I'll no gainsaying. + +POLIXENES Press me not, beseech you, so. + There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, + So soon as yours could win me: so it should now, + Were there necessity in your request, although + 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs + Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder + Were in your love a whip to me; my stay + To you a charge and trouble: to save both, + Farewell, our brother. + +LEONTES Tongue-tied, our queen? + speak you. + +HERMIONE I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until + You have drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, + Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure + All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction + The by-gone day proclaim'd: say this to him, + He's beat from his best ward. + +LEONTES Well said, Hermione. + +HERMIONE To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong: + But let him say so then, and let him go; + But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, + We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. + Yet of your royal presence I'll adventure + The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia + You take my lord, I'll give him my commission + To let him there a month behind the gest + Prefix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, + I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind + What lady-she her lord. You'll stay? + +POLIXENES No, madam. + +HERMIONE Nay, but you will? + +POLIXENES I may not, verily. + +HERMIONE Verily! + You put me off with limber vows; but I, + Though you would seek to unsphere the + stars with oaths, + Should yet say 'Sir, no going.' Verily, + You shall not go: a lady's 'Verily' 's + As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet? + Force me to keep you as a prisoner, + Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees + When you depart, and save your thanks. How say you? + My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 'Verily,' + One of them you shall be. + +POLIXENES Your guest, then, madam: + To be your prisoner should import offending; + Which is for me less easy to commit + Than you to punish. + +HERMIONE Not your gaoler, then, + But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you + Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys: + You were pretty lordings then? + +POLIXENES We were, fair queen, + Two lads that thought there was no more behind + But such a day to-morrow as to-day, + And to be boy eternal. + +HERMIONE Was not my lord + The verier wag o' the two? + +POLIXENES We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun, + And bleat the one at the other: what we changed + Was innocence for innocence; we knew not + The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd + That any did. Had we pursued that life, + And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd + With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven + Boldly 'not guilty;' the imposition clear'd + Hereditary ours. + +HERMIONE By this we gather + You have tripp'd since. + +POLIXENES O my most sacred lady! + Temptations have since then been born to's; for + In those unfledged days was my wife a girl; + Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes + Of my young play-fellow. + +HERMIONE Grace to boot! + Of this make no conclusion, lest you say + Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; + The offences we have made you do we'll answer, + If you first sinn'd with us and that with us + You did continue fault and that you slipp'd not + With any but with us. + +LEONTES Is he won yet? + +HERMIONE He'll stay my lord. + +LEONTES At my request he would not. + Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest + To better purpose. + +HERMIONE Never? + +LEONTES Never, but once. + +HERMIONE What! have I twice said well? when was't before? + I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and make's + As fat as tame things: one good deed dying tongueless + Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. + Our praises are our wages: you may ride's + With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere + With spur we beat an acre. But to the goal: + My last good deed was to entreat his stay: + What was my first? it has an elder sister, + Or I mistake you: O, would her name were Grace! + But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? + Nay, let me have't; I long. + +LEONTES Why, that was when + Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death, + Ere I could make thee open thy white hand + And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter + 'I am yours for ever.' + +HERMIONE 'Tis grace indeed. + Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice: + The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; + The other for some while a friend. + +LEONTES [Aside] Too hot, too hot! + To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. + I have tremor cordis on me: my heart dances; + But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment + May a free face put on, derive a liberty + From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom, + And well become the agent; 't may, I grant; + But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers, + As now they are, and making practised smiles, + As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere + The mort o' the deer; O, that is entertainment + My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamillius, + Art thou my boy? + +MAMILLIUS Ay, my good lord. + +LEONTES I' fecks! + Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast + smutch'd thy nose? + They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, + We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: + And yet the steer, the heifer and the calf + Are all call'd neat.--Still virginalling + Upon his palm!--How now, you wanton calf! + Art thou my calf? + +MAMILLIUS Yes, if you will, my lord. + +LEONTES Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have, + To be full like me: yet they say we are + Almost as like as eggs; women say so, + That will say anything but were they false + As o'er-dyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false + As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes + No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true + To say this boy were like me. Come, sir page, + Look on me with your welkin eye: sweet villain! + Most dear'st! my collop! Can thy dam?--may't be?-- + Affection! thy intention stabs the centre: + Thou dost make possible things not so held, + Communicatest with dreams;--how can this be?-- + With what's unreal thou coactive art, + And fellow'st nothing: then 'tis very credent + Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou dost, + And that beyond commission, and I find it, + And that to the infection of my brains + And hardening of my brows. + +POLIXENES What means Sicilia? + +HERMIONE He something seems unsettled. + +POLIXENES How, my lord! + What cheer? how is't with you, best brother? + +HERMIONE You look as if you held a brow of much distraction + Are you moved, my lord? + +LEONTES No, in good earnest. + How sometimes nature will betray its folly, + Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime + To harder bosoms! Looking on the lines + Of my boy's face, methoughts I did recoil + Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, + In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, + Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, + As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: + How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, + This squash, this gentleman. Mine honest friend, + Will you take eggs for money? + +MAMILLIUS No, my lord, I'll fight. + +LEONTES You will! why, happy man be's dole! My brother, + Are you so fond of your young prince as we + Do seem to be of ours? + +POLIXENES If at home, sir, + He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter, + Now my sworn friend and then mine enemy, + My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: + He makes a July's day short as December, + And with his varying childness cures in me + Thoughts that would thick my blood. + +LEONTES So stands this squire + Officed with me: we two will walk, my lord, + And leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, + How thou lovest us, show in our brother's welcome; + Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap: + Next to thyself and my young rover, he's + Apparent to my heart. + +HERMIONE If you would seek us, + We are yours i' the garden: shall's attend you there? + +LEONTES To your own bents dispose you: you'll be found, + Be you beneath the sky. + + [Aside] + + I am angling now, + Though you perceive me not how I give line. + Go to, go to! + How she holds up the neb, the bill to him! + And arms her with the boldness of a wife + To her allowing husband! + + [Exeunt POLIXENES, HERMIONE, and Attendants] + + Gone already! + Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and + ears a fork'd one! + Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I + Play too, but so disgraced a part, whose issue + Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and clamour + Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. + There have been, + Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now; + And many a man there is, even at this present, + Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm, + That little thinks she has been sluiced in's absence + And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by + Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's comfort in't + Whiles other men have gates and those gates open'd, + As mine, against their will. Should all despair + That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind + Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is none; + It is a bawdy planet, that will strike + Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful, think it, + From east, west, north and south: be it concluded, + No barricado for a belly; know't; + It will let in and out the enemy + With bag and baggage: many thousand on's + Have the disease, and feel't not. How now, boy! + +MAMILLIUS I am like you, they say. + +LEONTES Why that's some comfort. What, Camillo there? + +CAMILLO Ay, my good lord. + +LEONTES Go play, Mamillius; thou'rt an honest man. + + [Exit MAMILLIUS] + + Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. + +CAMILLO You had much ado to make his anchor hold: + When you cast out, it still came home. + +LEONTES Didst note it? + +CAMILLO He would not stay at your petitions: made + His business more material. + +LEONTES Didst perceive it? + + [Aside] + + They're here with me already, whispering, rounding + 'Sicilia is a so-forth:' 'tis far gone, + When I shall gust it last. How came't, Camillo, + That he did stay? + +CAMILLO At the good queen's entreaty. + +LEONTES At the queen's be't: 'good' should be pertinent + But, so it is, it is not. Was this taken + By any understanding pate but thine? + For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in + More than the common blocks: not noted, is't, + But of the finer natures? by some severals + Of head-piece extraordinary? lower messes + Perchance are to this business purblind? say. + +CAMILLO Business, my lord! I think most understand + Bohemia stays here longer. + +LEONTES Ha! + +CAMILLO Stays here longer. + +LEONTES Ay, but why? + +CAMILLO To satisfy your highness and the entreaties + Of our most gracious mistress. + +LEONTES Satisfy! + The entreaties of your mistress! satisfy! + Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, + With all the nearest things to my heart, as well + My chamber-councils, wherein, priest-like, thou + Hast cleansed my bosom, I from thee departed + Thy penitent reform'd: but we have been + Deceived in thy integrity, deceived + In that which seems so. + +CAMILLO Be it forbid, my lord! + +LEONTES To bide upon't, thou art not honest, or, + If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward, + Which hoxes honesty behind, restraining + From course required; or else thou must be counted + A servant grafted in my serious trust + And therein negligent; or else a fool + That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, + And takest it all for jest. + +CAMILLO My gracious lord, + I may be negligent, foolish and fearful; + In every one of these no man is free, + But that his negligence, his folly, fear, + Among the infinite doings of the world, + Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, + If ever I were wilful-negligent, + It was my folly; if industriously + I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, + Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful + To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, + Where of the execution did cry out + Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear + Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord, + Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty + Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, + Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass + By its own visage: if I then deny it, + 'Tis none of mine. + +LEONTES Ha' not you seen, Camillo,-- + But that's past doubt, you have, or your eye-glass + Is thicker than a cuckold's horn,--or heard,-- + For to a vision so apparent rumour + Cannot be mute,--or thought,--for cogitation + Resides not in that man that does not think,-- + My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, + Or else be impudently negative, + To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say + My wife's a hobby-horse, deserves a name + As rank as any flax-wench that puts to + Before her troth-plight: say't and justify't. + +CAMILLO I would not be a stander-by to hear + My sovereign mistress clouded so, without + My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, + You never spoke what did become you less + Than this; which to reiterate were sin + As deep as that, though true. + +LEONTES Is whispering nothing? + Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? + Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career + Of laughing with a sigh?--a note infallible + Of breaking honesty--horsing foot on foot? + Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? + Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes + Blind with the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, + That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? + Why, then the world and all that's in't is nothing; + The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; + My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, + If this be nothing. + +CAMILLO Good my lord, be cured + Of this diseased opinion, and betimes; + For 'tis most dangerous. + +LEONTES Say it be, 'tis true. + +CAMILLO No, no, my lord. + +LEONTES It is; you lie, you lie: + I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee, + Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave, + Or else a hovering temporizer, that + Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, + Inclining to them both: were my wife's liver + Infected as her life, she would not live + The running of one glass. + +CAMILLO Who does infect her? + +LEONTES Why, he that wears her like a medal, hanging + About his neck, Bohemia: who, if I + Had servants true about me, that bare eyes + To see alike mine honour as their profits, + Their own particular thrifts, they would do that + Which should undo more doing: ay, and thou, + His cupbearer,--whom I from meaner form + Have benched and reared to worship, who mayst see + Plainly as heaven sees earth and earth sees heaven, + How I am galled,--mightst bespice a cup, + To give mine enemy a lasting wink; + Which draught to me were cordial. + +CAMILLO Sir, my lord, + I could do this, and that with no rash potion, + But with a lingering dram that should not work + Maliciously like poison: but I cannot + Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, + So sovereignly being honourable. + I have loved thee,-- + +LEONTES Make that thy question, and go rot! + Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, + To appoint myself in this vexation, sully + The purity and whiteness of my sheets, + Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted + Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps, + Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, + Who I do think is mine and love as mine, + Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this? + Could man so blench? + +CAMILLO I must believe you, sir: + I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; + Provided that, when he's removed, your highness + Will take again your queen as yours at first, + Even for your son's sake; and thereby for sealing + The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms + Known and allied to yours. + +LEONTES Thou dost advise me + Even so as I mine own course have set down: + I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. + +CAMILLO My lord, + Go then; and with a countenance as clear + As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia + And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: + If from me he have wholesome beverage, + Account me not your servant. + +LEONTES This is all: + Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart; + Do't not, thou split'st thine own. + +CAMILLO I'll do't, my lord. + +LEONTES I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me. + + [Exit] + +CAMILLO O miserable lady! But, for me, + What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner + Of good Polixenes; and my ground to do't + Is the obedience to a master, one + Who in rebellion with himself will have + All that are his so too. To do this deed, + Promotion follows. If I could find example + Of thousands that had struck anointed kings + And flourish'd after, I'ld not do't; but since + Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not one, + Let villany itself forswear't. I must + Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain + To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now! + Here comes Bohemia. + + [Re-enter POLIXENES] + +POLIXENES This is strange: methinks + My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? + Good day, Camillo. + +CAMILLO Hail, most royal sir! + +POLIXENES What is the news i' the court? + +CAMILLO None rare, my lord. + +POLIXENES The king hath on him such a countenance + As he had lost some province and a region + Loved as he loves himself: even now I met him + With customary compliment; when he, + Wafting his eyes to the contrary and falling + A lip of much contempt, speeds from me and + So leaves me to consider what is breeding + That changeth thus his manners. + +CAMILLO I dare not know, my lord. + +POLIXENES How! dare not! do not. Do you know, and dare not? + Be intelligent to me: 'tis thereabouts; + For, to yourself, what you do know, you must. + And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, + Your changed complexions are to me a mirror + Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be + A party in this alteration, finding + Myself thus alter'd with 't. + +CAMILLO There is a sickness + Which puts some of us in distemper, but + I cannot name the disease; and it is caught + Of you that yet are well. + +POLIXENES How! caught of me! + Make me not sighted like the basilisk: + I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better + By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo,-- + As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto + Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns + Our gentry than our parents' noble names, + In whose success we are gentle,--I beseech you, + If you know aught which does behove my knowledge + Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not + In ignorant concealment. + +CAMILLO I may not answer. + +POLIXENES A sickness caught of me, and yet I well! + I must be answer'd. Dost thou hear, Camillo, + I conjure thee, by all the parts of man + Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the least + Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare + What incidency thou dost guess of harm + Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; + Which way to be prevented, if to be; + If not, how best to bear it. + +CAMILLO Sir, I will tell you; + Since I am charged in honour and by him + That I think honourable: therefore mark my counsel, + Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as + I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me + Cry lost, and so good night! + +POLIXENES On, good Camillo. + +CAMILLO I am appointed him to murder you. + +POLIXENES By whom, Camillo? + +CAMILLO By the king. + +POLIXENES For what? + +CAMILLO He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, + As he had seen't or been an instrument + To vice you to't, that you have touch'd his queen + Forbiddenly. + +POLIXENES O, then my best blood turn + To an infected jelly and my name + Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! + Turn then my freshest reputation to + A savour that may strike the dullest nostril + Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, + Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection + That e'er was heard or read! + +CAMILLO Swear his thought over + By each particular star in heaven and + By all their influences, you may as well + Forbid the sea for to obey the moon + As or by oath remove or counsel shake + The fabric of his folly, whose foundation + Is piled upon his faith and will continue + The standing of his body. + +POLIXENES How should this grow? + +CAMILLO I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to + Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. + If therefore you dare trust my honesty, + That lies enclosed in this trunk which you + Shall bear along impawn'd, away to-night! + Your followers I will whisper to the business, + And will by twos and threes at several posterns + Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put + My fortunes to your service, which are here + By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; + For, by the honour of my parents, I + Have utter'd truth: which if you seek to prove, + I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer + Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon + His execution sworn. + +POLIXENES I do believe thee: + I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand: + Be pilot to me and thy places shall + Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and + My people did expect my hence departure + Two days ago. This jealousy + Is for a precious creature: as she's rare, + Must it be great, and as his person's mighty, + Must it be violent, and as he does conceive + He is dishonour'd by a man which ever + Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must + In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me: + Good expedition be my friend, and comfort + The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing + Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; + I will respect thee as a father if + Thou bear'st my life off hence: let us avoid. + +CAMILLO It is in mine authority to command + The keys of all the posterns: please your highness + To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. + + + [Enter HERMIONE, MAMILLIUS, and Ladies] + +HERMIONE Take the boy to you: he so troubles me, + 'Tis past enduring. + +First Lady Come, my gracious lord, + Shall I be your playfellow? + +MAMILLIUS No, I'll none of you. + +First Lady Why, my sweet lord? + +MAMILLIUS You'll kiss me hard and speak to me as if + I were a baby still. I love you better. + +Second Lady And why so, my lord? + +MAMILLIUS Not for because + Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, they say, + Become some women best, so that there be not + Too much hair there, but in a semicircle + Or a half-moon made with a pen. + +Second Lady Who taught you this? + +MAMILLIUS I learnt it out of women's faces. Pray now + What colour are your eyebrows? + +First Lady Blue, my lord. + +MAMILLIUS Nay, that's a mock: I have seen a lady's nose + That has been blue, but not her eyebrows. + +First Lady Hark ye; + The queen your mother rounds apace: we shall + Present our services to a fine new prince + One of these days; and then you'ld wanton with us, + If we would have you. + +Second Lady She is spread of late + Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her! + +HERMIONE What wisdom stirs amongst you? Come, sir, now + I am for you again: pray you, sit by us, + And tell 's a tale. + +MAMILLIUS Merry or sad shall't be? + +HERMIONE As merry as you will. + +MAMILLIUS A sad tale's best for winter: I have one + Of sprites and goblins. + +HERMIONE Let's have that, good sir. + Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best + To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it. + +MAMILLIUS There was a man-- + +HERMIONE Nay, come, sit down; then on. + +MAMILLIUS Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly; + Yond crickets shall not hear it. + +HERMIONE Come on, then, + And give't me in mine ear. + + [Enter LEONTES, with ANTIGONUS, Lords and others] + +LEONTES Was he met there? his train? Camillo with him? + +First Lord Behind the tuft of pines I met them; never + Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them + Even to their ships. + +LEONTES How blest am I + In my just censure, in my true opinion! + Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed + In being so blest! There may be in the cup + A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, + And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge + Is not infected: but if one present + The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known + How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides, + With violent hefts. I have drunk, + and seen the spider. + Camillo was his help in this, his pander: + There is a plot against my life, my crown; + All's true that is mistrusted: that false villain + Whom I employ'd was pre-employ'd by him: + He has discover'd my design, and I + Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick + For them to play at will. How came the posterns + So easily open? + +First Lord By his great authority; + Which often hath no less prevail'd than so + On your command. + +LEONTES I know't too well. + Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse him: + Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you + Have too much blood in him. + +HERMIONE What is this? sport? + +LEONTES Bear the boy hence; he shall not come about her; + Away with him! and let her sport herself + With that she's big with; for 'tis Polixenes + Has made thee swell thus. + +HERMIONE But I'ld say he had not, + And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, + Howe'er you lean to the nayward. + +LEONTES You, my lords, + Look on her, mark her well; be but about + To say 'she is a goodly lady,' and + The justice of your bearts will thereto add + 'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:' + Praise her but for this her without-door form, + Which on my faith deserves high speech, and straight + The shrug, the hum or ha, these petty brands + That calumny doth use--O, I am out-- + That mercy does, for calumny will sear + Virtue itself: these shrugs, these hums and ha's, + When you have said 'she's goodly,' come between + Ere you can say 'she's honest:' but be 't known, + From him that has most cause to grieve it should be, + She's an adulteress. + +HERMIONE Should a villain say so, + The most replenish'd villain in the world, + He were as much more villain: you, my lord, + Do but mistake. + +LEONTES You have mistook, my lady, + Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing! + Which I'll not call a creature of thy place, + Lest barbarism, making me the precedent, + Should a like language use to all degrees + And mannerly distinguishment leave out + Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said + She's an adulteress; I have said with whom: + More, she's a traitor and Camillo is + A federary with her, and one that knows + What she should shame to know herself + But with her most vile principal, that she's + A bed-swerver, even as bad as those + That vulgars give bold'st titles, ay, and privy + To this their late escape. + +HERMIONE No, by my life. + Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, + When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that + You thus have publish'd me! Gentle my lord, + You scarce can right me throughly then to say + You did mistake. + +LEONTES No; if I mistake + In those foundations which I build upon, + The centre is not big enough to bear + A school-boy's top. Away with her! to prison! + He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty + But that he speaks. + +HERMIONE There's some ill planet reigns: + I must be patient till the heavens look + With an aspect more favourable. Good my lords, + I am not prone to weeping, as our sex + Commonly are; the want of which vain dew + Perchance shall dry your pities: but I have + That honourable grief lodged here which burns + Worse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords, + With thoughts so qualified as your charities + Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so + The king's will be perform'd! + +LEONTES Shall I be heard? + +HERMIONE Who is't that goes with me? Beseech your highness, + My women may be with me; for you see + My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools; + There is no cause: when you shall know your mistress + Has deserved prison, then abound in tears + As I come out: this action I now go on + Is for my better grace. Adieu, my lord: + I never wish'd to see you sorry; now + I trust I shall. My women, come; you have leave. + +LEONTES Go, do our bidding; hence! + + [Exit HERMIONE, guarded; with Ladies] + +First Lord Beseech your highness, call the queen again. + +ANTIGONUS Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice + Prove violence; in the which three great ones suffer, + Yourself, your queen, your son. + +First Lord For her, my lord, + I dare my life lay down and will do't, sir, + Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless + I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean, + In this which you accuse her. + +ANTIGONUS If it prove + She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where + I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; + Than when I feel and see her no farther trust her; + For every inch of woman in the world, + Ay, every dram of woman's flesh is false, If she be. + +LEONTES Hold your peaces. + +First Lord Good my lord,-- + +ANTIGONUS It is for you we speak, not for ourselves: + You are abused and by some putter-on + That will be damn'd for't; would I knew the villain, + I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd, + I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven + The second and the third, nine, and some five; + If this prove true, they'll pay for't: + by mine honour, + I'll geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see, + To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; + And I had rather glib myself than they + Should not produce fair issue. + +LEONTES Cease; no more. + You smell this business with a sense as cold + As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and feel't + As you feel doing thus; and see withal + The instruments that feel. + +ANTIGONUS If it be so, + We need no grave to bury honesty: + There's not a grain of it the face to sweeten + Of the whole dungy earth. + +LEONTES What! lack I credit? + +First Lord I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, + Upon this ground; and more it would content me + To have her honour true than your suspicion, + Be blamed for't how you might. + +LEONTES Why, what need we + Commune with you of this, but rather follow + Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative + Calls not your counsels, but our natural goodness + Imparts this; which if you, or stupefied + Or seeming so in skill, cannot or will not + Relish a truth like us, inform yourselves + We need no more of your advice: the matter, + The loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all + Properly ours. + +ANTIGONUS And I wish, my liege, + You had only in your silent judgment tried it, + Without more overture. + +LEONTES How could that be? + Either thou art most ignorant by age, + Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, + Added to their familiarity, + Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture, + That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation + But only seeing, all other circumstances + Made up to the deed, doth push on this proceeding: + Yet, for a greater confirmation, + For in an act of this importance 'twere + Most piteous to be wild, I have dispatch'd in post + To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, + Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know + Of stuff'd sufficiency: now from the oracle + They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had, + Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well? + +First Lord Well done, my lord. + +LEONTES Though I am satisfied and need no more + Than what I know, yet shall the oracle + Give rest to the minds of others, such as he + Whose ignorant credulity will not + Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good + From our free person she should be confined, + Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence + Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; + We are to speak in public; for this business + Will raise us all. + +ANTIGONUS [Aside] + + To laughter, as I take it, + If the good truth were known. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A prison. + + + [Enter PAULINA, a Gentleman, and Attendants] + +PAULINA The keeper of the prison, call to him; + let him have knowledge who I am. + + [Exit Gentleman] + + Good lady, + No court in Europe is too good for thee; + What dost thou then in prison? + + [Re-enter Gentleman, with the Gaoler] + + Now, good sir, + You know me, do you not? + +Gaoler For a worthy lady + And one whom much I honour. + +PAULINA Pray you then, + Conduct me to the queen. + +Gaoler I may not, madam: + To the contrary I have express commandment. + +PAULINA Here's ado, + To lock up honesty and honour from + The access of gentle visitors! + Is't lawful, pray you, + To see her women? any of them? Emilia? + +Gaoler So please you, madam, + To put apart these your attendants, I + Shall bring Emilia forth. + +PAULINA I pray now, call her. + Withdraw yourselves. + + [Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants] + +Gaoler And, madam, + I must be present at your conference. + +PAULINA Well, be't so, prithee. + + [Exit Gaoler] + + Here's such ado to make no stain a stain + As passes colouring. + + [Re-enter Gaoler, with EMILIA] + + Dear gentlewoman, + How fares our gracious lady? + +EMILIA As well as one so great and so forlorn + May hold together: on her frights and griefs, + Which never tender lady hath born greater, + She is something before her time deliver'd. + +PAULINA A boy? + +EMILIA A daughter, and a goodly babe, + Lusty and like to live: the queen receives + Much comfort in't; says 'My poor prisoner, + I am innocent as you.' + +PAULINA I dare be sworn + These dangerous unsafe lunes i' the king, + beshrew them! + He must be told on't, and he shall: the office + Becomes a woman best; I'll take't upon me: + If I prove honey-mouth'd let my tongue blister + And never to my red-look'd anger be + The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, + Commend my best obedience to the queen: + If she dares trust me with her little babe, + I'll show't the king and undertake to be + Her advocate to the loud'st. We do not know + How he may soften at the sight o' the child: + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades when speaking fails. + +EMILIA Most worthy madam, + Your honour and your goodness is so evident + That your free undertaking cannot miss + A thriving issue: there is no lady living + So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship + To visit the next room, I'll presently + Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; + Who but to-day hammer'd of this design, + But durst not tempt a minister of honour, + Lest she should be denied. + +PAULINA Tell her, Emilia. + I'll use that tongue I have: if wit flow from't + As boldness from my bosom, let 't not be doubted + I shall do good. + +EMILIA Now be you blest for it! + I'll to the queen: please you, + come something nearer. + +Gaoler Madam, if't please the queen to send the babe, + I know not what I shall incur to pass it, + Having no warrant. + +PAULINA You need not fear it, sir: + This child was prisoner to the womb and is + By law and process of great nature thence + Freed and enfranchised, not a party to + The anger of the king nor guilty of, + If any be, the trespass of the queen. + +Gaoler I do believe it. + +PAULINA Do not you fear: upon mine honour, + I will stand betwixt you and danger. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A room in LEONTES' palace. + + + [Enter LEONTES, ANTIGONUS, Lords, and Servants] + +LEONTES Nor night nor day no rest: it is but weakness + To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If + The cause were not in being,--part o' the cause, + She the adulteress; for the harlot king + Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank + And level of my brain, plot-proof; but she + I can hook to me: say that she were gone, + Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest + Might come to me again. Who's there? + +First Servant My lord? + +LEONTES How does the boy? + +First Servant He took good rest to-night; + 'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged. + +LEONTES To see his nobleness! + Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, + He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply, + Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself, + Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, + And downright languish'd. Leave me solely: go, + See how he fares. + + [Exit Servant] + + Fie, fie! no thought of him: + The thought of my revenges that way + Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty, + And in his parties, his alliance; let him be + Until a time may serve: for present vengeance, + Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes + Laugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow: + They should not laugh if I could reach them, nor + Shall she within my power. + + [Enter PAULINA, with a child] + +First Lord You must not enter. + +PAULINA Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me: + Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, + Than the queen's life? a gracious innocent soul, + More free than he is jealous. + +ANTIGONUS That's enough. + +Second Servant Madam, he hath not slept tonight; commanded + None should come at him. + +PAULINA Not so hot, good sir: + I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you, + That creep like shadows by him and do sigh + At each his needless heavings, such as you + Nourish the cause of his awaking: I + Do come with words as medicinal as true, + Honest as either, to purge him of that humour + That presses him from sleep. + +LEONTES What noise there, ho? + +PAULINA No noise, my lord; but needful conference + About some gossips for your highness. + +LEONTES How! + Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, + I charged thee that she should not come about me: + I knew she would. + +ANTIGONUS I told her so, my lord, + On your displeasure's peril and on mine, + She should not visit you. + +LEONTES What, canst not rule her? + +PAULINA From all dishonesty he can: in this, + Unless he take the course that you have done, + Commit me for committing honour, trust it, + He shall not rule me. + +ANTIGONUS La you now, you hear: + When she will take the rein I let her run; + But she'll not stumble. + +PAULINA Good my liege, I come; + And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess + Myself your loyal servant, your physician, + Your most obedient counsellor, yet that dare + Less appear so in comforting your evils, + Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come + From your good queen. + +LEONTES Good queen! + +PAULINA Good queen, my lord, + Good queen; I say good queen; + And would by combat make her good, so were I + A man, the worst about you. + +LEONTES Force her hence. + +PAULINA Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes + First hand me: on mine own accord I'll off; + But first I'll do my errand. The good queen, + For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter; + Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. + + [Laying down the child] + +LEONTES Out! + A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' door: + A most intelligencing bawd! + +PAULINA Not so: + I am as ignorant in that as you + In so entitling me, and no less honest + Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll warrant, + As this world goes, to pass for honest. + +LEONTES Traitors! + Will you not push her out? Give her the bastard. + Thou dotard! thou art woman-tired, unroosted + By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard; + Take't up, I say; give't to thy crone. + +PAULINA For ever + Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou + Takest up the princess by that forced baseness + Which he has put upon't! + +LEONTES He dreads his wife. + +PAULINA So I would you did; then 'twere past all doubt + You'ld call your children yours. + +LEONTES A nest of traitors! + +ANTIGONUS I am none, by this good light. + +PAULINA Nor I, nor any + But one that's here, and that's himself, for he + The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, + His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, + Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; + and will not-- + For, as the case now stands, it is a curse + He cannot be compell'd to't--once remove + The root of his opinion, which is rotten + As ever oak or stone was sound. + +LEONTES A callat + Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband + And now baits me! This brat is none of mine; + It is the issue of Polixenes: + Hence with it, and together with the dam + Commit them to the fire! + +PAULINA It is yours; + And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, + So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold, my lords, + Although the print be little, the whole matter + And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, + The trick of's frown, his forehead, nay, the valley, + The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek, + His smiles, + The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: + And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it + So like to him that got it, if thou hast + The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours + No yellow in't, lest she suspect, as he does, + Her children not her husband's! + +LEONTES A gross hag + And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, + That wilt not stay her tongue. + +ANTIGONUS Hang all the husbands + That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself + Hardly one subject. + +LEONTES Once more, take her hence. + +PAULINA A most unworthy and unnatural lord + Can do no more. + +LEONTES I'll ha' thee burnt. + +PAULINA I care not: + It is an heretic that makes the fire, + Not she which burns in't. I'll not call you tyrant; + But this most cruel usage of your queen, + Not able to produce more accusation + Than your own weak-hinged fancy, something savours + Of tyranny and will ignoble make you, + Yea, scandalous to the world. + +LEONTES On your allegiance, + Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant, + Where were her life? she durst not call me so, + If she did know me one. Away with her! + +PAULINA I pray you, do not push me; I'll be gone. + Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: + Jove send her + A better guiding spirit! What needs these hands? + You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, + Will never do him good, not one of you. + So, so: farewell; we are gone. + + [Exit] + +LEONTES Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. + My child? away with't! Even thou, that hast + A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence + And see it instantly consumed with fire; + Even thou and none but thou. Take it up straight: + Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, + And by good testimony, or I'll seize thy life, + With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse + And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; + The bastard brains with these my proper hands + Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; + For thou set'st on thy wife. + +ANTIGONUS I did not, sir: + These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, + Can clear me in't. + +Lords We can: my royal liege, + He is not guilty of her coming hither. + +LEONTES You're liars all. + +First Lord Beseech your highness, give us better credit: + We have always truly served you, and beseech you + So to esteem of us, and on our knees we beg, + As recompense of our dear services + Past and to come, that you do change this purpose, + Which being so horrible, so bloody, must + Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. + +LEONTES I am a feather for each wind that blows: + Shall I live on to see this bastard kneel + And call me father? better burn it now + Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. + It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither; + You that have been so tenderly officious + With Lady Margery, your midwife there, + To save this bastard's life,--for 'tis a bastard, + So sure as this beard's grey, + --what will you adventure + To save this brat's life? + +ANTIGONUS Any thing, my lord, + That my ability may undergo + And nobleness impose: at least thus much: + I'll pawn the little blood which I have left + To save the innocent: any thing possible. + +LEONTES It shall be possible. Swear by this sword + Thou wilt perform my bidding. + +ANTIGONUS I will, my lord. + +LEONTES Mark and perform it, see'st thou! for the fail + Of any point in't shall not only be + Death to thyself but to thy lewd-tongued wife, + Whom for this time we pardon. We enjoin thee, + As thou art liege-man to us, that thou carry + This female bastard hence and that thou bear it + To some remote and desert place quite out + Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it, + Without more mercy, to its own protection + And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune + It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, + On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture, + That thou commend it strangely to some place + Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up. + +ANTIGONUS I swear to do this, though a present death + Had been more merciful. Come on, poor babe: + Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens + To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say + Casting their savageness aside have done + Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous + In more than this deed does require! And blessing + Against this cruelty fight on thy side, + Poor thing, condemn'd to loss! + + [Exit with the child] + +LEONTES No, I'll not rear + Another's issue. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant Please your highness, posts + From those you sent to the oracle are come + An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, + Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, + Hasting to the court. + +First Lord So please you, sir, their speed + Hath been beyond account. + +LEONTES Twenty-three days + They have been absent: 'tis good speed; foretells + The great Apollo suddenly will have + The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords; + Summon a session, that we may arraign + Our most disloyal lady, for, as she hath + Been publicly accused, so shall she have + A just and open trial. While she lives + My heart will be a burthen to me. Leave me, + And think upon my bidding. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A sea-port in Sicilia. + + + + [Enter CLEOMENES and DION] + +CLEOMENES The climate's delicate, the air most sweet, + Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing + The common praise it bears. + +DION I shall report, + For most it caught me, the celestial habits, + Methinks I so should term them, and the reverence + Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! + How ceremonious, solemn and unearthly + It was i' the offering! + +CLEOMENES But of all, the burst + And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, + Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense. + That I was nothing. + +DION If the event o' the journey + Prove as successful to the queen,--O be't so!-- + As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, + The time is worth the use on't. + +CLEOMENES Great Apollo + Turn all to the best! These proclamations, + So forcing faults upon Hermione, + I little like. + +DION The violent carriage of it + Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, + Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up, + Shall the contents discover, something rare + Even then will rush to knowledge. Go: fresh horses! + And gracious be the issue! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A court of Justice. + + + [Enter LEONTES, Lords, and Officers] + +LEONTES This sessions, to our great grief we pronounce, + Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried + The daughter of a king, our wife, and one + Of us too much beloved. Let us be clear'd + Of being tyrannous, since we so openly + Proceed in justice, which shall have due course, + Even to the guilt or the purgation. + Produce the prisoner. + +Officer It is his highness' pleasure that the queen + Appear in person here in court. Silence! + + [Enter HERMIONE guarded; + PAULINA and Ladies attending] + +LEONTES Read the indictment. + +Officer [Reads] Hermione, queen to the worthy + Leontes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and + arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery + with Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and conspiring + with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign + lord the king, thy royal husband: the pretence + whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, + thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance + of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for + their better safety, to fly away by night. + +HERMIONE Since what I am to say must be but that + Which contradicts my accusation and + The testimony on my part no other + But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me + To say 'not guilty:' mine integrity + Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, + Be so received. But thus: if powers divine + Behold our human actions, as they do, + I doubt not then but innocence shall make + False accusation blush and tyranny + Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, + Who least will seem to do so, my past life + Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, + As I am now unhappy; which is more + Than history can pattern, though devised + And play'd to take spectators. For behold me + A fellow of the royal bed, which owe + A moiety of the throne a great king's daughter, + The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing + To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore + Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it + As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for honour, + 'Tis a derivative from me to mine, + And only that I stand for. I appeal + To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes + Came to your court, how I was in your grace, + How merited to be so; since he came, + With what encounter so uncurrent I + Have strain'd to appear thus: if one jot beyond + The bound of honour, or in act or will + That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts + Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin + Cry fie upon my grave! + +LEONTES I ne'er heard yet + That any of these bolder vices wanted + Less impudence to gainsay what they did + Than to perform it first. + +HERMIONE That's true enough; + Through 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. + +LEONTES You will not own it. + +HERMIONE More than mistress of + Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not + At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, + With whom I am accused, I do confess + I loved him as in honour he required, + With such a kind of love as might become + A lady like me, with a love even such, + So and no other, as yourself commanded: + Which not to have done I think had been in me + Both disobedience and ingratitude + To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, + Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely + That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, + I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd + For me to try how: all I know of it + Is that Camillo was an honest man; + And why he left your court, the gods themselves, + Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. + +LEONTES You knew of his departure, as you know + What you have underta'en to do in's absence. + +HERMIONE Sir, + You speak a language that I understand not: + My life stands in the level of your dreams, + Which I'll lay down. + +LEONTES Your actions are my dreams; + You had a bastard by Polixenes, + And I but dream'd it. As you were past all shame,-- + Those of your fact are so--so past all truth: + Which to deny concerns more than avails; for as + Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, + No father owning it,--which is, indeed, + More criminal in thee than it,--so thou + Shalt feel our justice, in whose easiest passage + Look for no less than death. + +HERMIONE Sir, spare your threats: + The bug which you would fright me with I seek. + To me can life be no commodity: + The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, + I do give lost; for I do feel it gone, + But know not how it went. My second joy + And first-fruits of my body, from his presence + I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort + Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast, + The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, + Haled out to murder: myself on every post + Proclaimed a strumpet: with immodest hatred + The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs + To women of all fashion; lastly, hurried + Here to this place, i' the open air, before + I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege, + Tell me what blessings I have here alive, + That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed. + But yet hear this: mistake me not; no life, + I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour, + Which I would free, if I shall be condemn'd + Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else + But what your jealousies awake, I tell you + 'Tis rigor and not law. Your honours all, + I do refer me to the oracle: + Apollo be my judge! + +First Lord This your request + Is altogether just: therefore bring forth, + And in Apollos name, his oracle. + + [Exeunt certain Officers] + +HERMIONE The Emperor of Russia was my father: + O that he were alive, and here beholding + His daughter's trial! that he did but see + The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes + Of pity, not revenge! + + [Re-enter Officers, with CLEOMENES and DION] + +Officer You here shall swear upon this sword of justice, + That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have + Been both at Delphos, and from thence have brought + The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd + Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then, + You have not dared to break the holy seal + Nor read the secrets in't. + + +CLEOMENES | + | All this we swear. +DION | + + +LEONTES Break up the seals and read. + +Officer [Reads] Hermione is chaste; + Polixenes blameless; Camillo a true subject; Leontes + a jealous tyrant; his innocent babe truly begotten; + and the king shall live without an heir, if that + which is lost be not found. + +Lords Now blessed be the great Apollo! + +HERMIONE Praised! + +LEONTES Hast thou read truth? + +Officer Ay, my lord; even so + As it is here set down. + +LEONTES There is no truth at all i' the oracle: + The sessions shall proceed: this is mere falsehood. + + [Enter Servant] + +Servant My lord the king, the king! + +LEONTES What is the business? + +Servant O sir, I shall be hated to report it! + The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear + Of the queen's speed, is gone. + +LEONTES How! gone! + +Servant Is dead. + +LEONTES Apollo's angry; and the heavens themselves + Do strike at my injustice. + + [HERMIONE swoons] + + How now there! + +PAULINA This news is mortal to the queen: look down + And see what death is doing. + +LEONTES Take her hence: + Her heart is but o'ercharged; she will recover: + I have too much believed mine own suspicion: + Beseech you, tenderly apply to her + Some remedies for life. + + [Exeunt PAULINA and Ladies, with HERMIONE] + + Apollo, pardon + My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! + I'll reconcile me to Polixenes, + New woo my queen, recall the good Camillo, + Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy; + For, being transported by my jealousies + To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose + Camillo for the minister to poison + My friend Polixenes: which had been done, + But that the good mind of Camillo tardied + My swift command, though I with death and with + Reward did threaten and encourage him, + Not doing 't and being done: he, most humane + And fill'd with honour, to my kingly guest + Unclasp'd my practise, quit his fortunes here, + Which you knew great, and to the hazard + Of all encertainties himself commended, + No richer than his honour: how he glisters + Thorough my rust! and how his pity + Does my deeds make the blacker! + + [Re-enter PAULINA] + +PAULINA Woe the while! + O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, + Break too. + +First Lord What fit is this, good lady? + +PAULINA What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me? + What wheels? racks? fires? what flaying? boiling? + In leads or oils? what old or newer torture + Must I receive, whose every word deserves + To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny + Together working with thy jealousies, + Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle + For girls of nine, O, think what they have done + And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all + Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. + That thou betray'dst Polixenes,'twas nothing; + That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant + And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much, + Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's honour, + To have him kill a king: poor trespasses, + More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon + The casting forth to crows thy baby-daughter + To be or none or little; though a devil + Would have shed water out of fire ere done't: + Nor is't directly laid to thee, the death + Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts, + Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart + That could conceive a gross and foolish sire + Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no, + Laid to thy answer: but the last,--O lords, + When I have said, cry 'woe!' the queen, the queen, + The sweet'st, dear'st creature's dead, + and vengeance for't + Not dropp'd down yet. + +First Lord The higher powers forbid! + +PAULINA I say she's dead; I'll swear't. If word nor oath + Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring + Tincture or lustre in her lip, her eye, + Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you + As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! + Do not repent these things, for they are heavier + Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee + To nothing but despair. A thousand knees + Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, + Upon a barren mountain and still winter + In storm perpetual, could not move the gods + To look that way thou wert. + +LEONTES Go on, go on + Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserved + All tongues to talk their bitterest. + +First Lord Say no more: + Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault + I' the boldness of your speech. + +PAULINA I am sorry for't: + All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, + I do repent. Alas! I have show'd too much + The rashness of a woman: he is touch'd + To the noble heart. What's gone and what's past help + Should be past grief: do not receive affliction + At my petition; I beseech you, rather + Let me be punish'd, that have minded you + Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege + Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: + The love I bore your queen--lo, fool again!-- + I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; + I'll not remember you of my own lord, + Who is lost too: take your patience to you, + And I'll say nothing. + +LEONTES Thou didst speak but well + When most the truth; which I receive much better + Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me + To the dead bodies of my queen and son: + One grave shall be for both: upon them shall + The causes of their death appear, unto + Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit + The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there + Shall be my recreation: so long as nature + Will bear up with this exercise, so long + I daily vow to use it. Come and lead me + Unto these sorrows. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Bohemia. A desert country near the sea. + + + [Enter ANTIGONUS with a Child, and a Mariner] + +ANTIGONUS Thou art perfect then, our ship hath touch'd upon + The deserts of Bohemia? + +Mariner Ay, my lord: and fear + We have landed in ill time: the skies look grimly + And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, + The heavens with that we have in hand are angry + And frown upon 's. + +ANTIGONUS Their sacred wills be done! Go, get aboard; + Look to thy bark: I'll not be long before + I call upon thee. + +Mariner Make your best haste, and go not + Too far i' the land: 'tis like to be loud weather; + Besides, this place is famous for the creatures + Of prey that keep upon't. + +ANTIGONUS Go thou away: + I'll follow instantly. + +Mariner I am glad at heart + To be so rid o' the business. + + [Exit] + +ANTIGONUS Come, poor babe: + I have heard, but not believed, + the spirits o' the dead + May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother + Appear'd to me last night, for ne'er was dream + So like a waking. To me comes a creature, + Sometimes her head on one side, some another; + I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, + So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, + Like very sanctity, she did approach + My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, + And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes + Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon + Did this break-from her: 'Good Antigonus, + Since fate, against thy better disposition, + Hath made thy person for the thrower-out + Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, + Places remote enough are in Bohemia, + There weep and leave it crying; and, for the babe + Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, + I prithee, call't. For this ungentle business + Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see + Thy wife Paulina more.' And so, with shrieks + She melted into air. Affrighted much, + I did in time collect myself and thought + This was so and no slumber. Dreams are toys: + Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, + I will be squared by this. I do believe + Hermione hath suffer'd death, and that + Apollo would, this being indeed the issue + Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid, + Either for life or death, upon the earth + Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! + There lie, and there thy character: there these; + Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee, pretty, + And still rest thine. The storm begins; poor wretch, + That for thy mother's fault art thus exposed + To loss and what may follow! Weep I cannot, + But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I + To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! + The day frowns more and more: thou'rt like to have + A lullaby too rough: I never saw + The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! + Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: + I am gone for ever. + + [Exit, pursued by a bear] + + [Enter a Shepherd] + +Shepherd I would there were no age between sixteen and + three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the + rest; for there is nothing in the between but + getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, + stealing, fighting--Hark you now! Would any but + these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty + hunt this weather? They have scared away two of my + best sheep, which I fear the wolf will sooner find + than the master: if any where I have them, 'tis by + the seaside, browsing of ivy. Good luck, an't be thy + will what have we here! Mercy on 's, a barne a very + pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder? A + pretty one; a very pretty one: sure, some 'scape: + though I am not bookish, yet I can read + waiting-gentlewoman in the 'scape. This has been + some stair-work, some trunk-work, some + behind-door-work: they were warmer that got this + than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for + pity: yet I'll tarry till my son come; he hallooed + but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! + + [Enter Clown] + +Clown Hilloa, loa! + +Shepherd What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk + on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What + ailest thou, man? + +Clown I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land! + but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the + sky: betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust + a bodkin's point. + +Shepherd Why, boy, how is it? + +Clown I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, + how it takes up the shore! but that's not the + point. O, the most piteous cry of the poor souls! + sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em; now the + ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon + swallowed with yest and froth, as you'ld thrust a + cork into a hogshead. And then for the + land-service, to see how the bear tore out his + shoulder-bone; how he cried to me for help and said + his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an + end of the ship, to see how the sea flap-dragoned + it: but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the + sea mocked them; and how the poor gentleman roared + and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than + the sea or weather. + +Shepherd Name of mercy, when was this, boy? + +Clown Now, now: I have not winked since I saw these + sights: the men are not yet cold under water, nor + the bear half dined on the gentleman: he's at it + now. + +Shepherd Would I had been by, to have helped the old man! + +Clown I would you had been by the ship side, to have + helped her: there your charity would have lacked footing. + +Shepherd Heavy matters! heavy matters! but look thee here, + boy. Now bless thyself: thou mettest with things + dying, I with things newborn. Here's a sight for + thee; look thee, a bearing-cloth for a squire's + child! look thee here; take up, take up, boy; + open't. So, let's see: it was told me I should be + rich by the fairies. This is some changeling: + open't. What's within, boy? + +Clown You're a made old man: if the sins of your youth + are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold! all gold! + +Shepherd This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so: up + with't, keep it close: home, home, the next way. + We are lucky, boy; and to be so still requires + nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go: come, good + boy, the next way home. + +Clown Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see + if the bear be gone from the gentleman and how much + he hath eaten: they are never curst but when they + are hungry: if there be any of him left, I'll bury + it. + +Shepherd That's a good deed. If thou mayest discern by that + which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the + sight of him. + +Clown Marry, will I; and you shall help to put him i' the ground. + +Shepherd 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do good deeds on't. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I: + + + [Enter Time, the Chorus] + +Time I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror + Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error, + Now take upon me, in the name of Time, + To use my wings. Impute it not a crime + To me or my swift passage, that I slide + O'er sixteen years and leave the growth untried + Of that wide gap, since it is in my power + To o'erthrow law and in one self-born hour + To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass + The same I am, ere ancient'st order was + Or what is now received: I witness to + The times that brought them in; so shall I do + To the freshest things now reigning and make stale + The glistering of this present, as my tale + Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, + I turn my glass and give my scene such growing + As you had slept between: Leontes leaving, + The effects of his fond jealousies so grieving + That he shuts up himself, imagine me, + Gentle spectators, that I now may be + In fair Bohemia, and remember well, + I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel + I now name to you; and with speed so pace + To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace + Equal with wondering: what of her ensues + I list not prophecy; but let Time's news + Be known when 'tis brought forth. + A shepherd's daughter, + And what to her adheres, which follows after, + Is the argument of Time. Of this allow, + If ever you have spent time worse ere now; + If never, yet that Time himself doth say + He wishes earnestly you never may. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Bohemia. The palace of POLIXENES. + + + [Enter POLIXENES and CAMILLO] + +POLIXENES I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importunate: + 'tis a sickness denying thee any thing; a death to + grant this. + +CAMILLO It is fifteen years since I saw my country: though + I have for the most part been aired abroad, I + desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent + king, my master, hath sent for me; to whose feeling + sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to + think so, which is another spur to my departure. + +POLIXENES As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of + thy services by leaving me now: the need I have of + thee thine own goodness hath made; better not to + have had thee than thus to want thee: thou, having + made me businesses which none without thee can + sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute + them thyself or take away with thee the very + services thou hast done; which if I have not enough + considered, as too much I cannot, to be more + thankful to thee shall be my study, and my profit + therein the heaping friendships. Of that fatal + country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more; whose very + naming punishes me with the remembrance of that + penitent, as thou callest him, and reconciled king, + my brother; whose loss of his most precious queen + and children are even now to be afresh lamented. + Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Florizel, my + son? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not + being gracious, than they are in losing them when + they have approved their virtues. + +CAMILLO Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What + his happier affairs may be, are to me unknown: but I + have missingly noted, he is of late much retired + from court and is less frequent to his princely + exercises than formerly he hath appeared. + +POLIXENES I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some + care; so far that I have eyes under my service which + look upon his removedness; from whom I have this + intelligence, that he is seldom from the house of a + most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that from + very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his + neighbours, is grown into an unspeakable estate. + +CAMILLO I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a + daughter of most rare note: the report of her is + extended more than can be thought to begin from such a cottage. + +POLIXENES That's likewise part of my intelligence; but, I + fear, the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou + shalt accompany us to the place; where we will, not + appearing what we are, have some question with the + shepherd; from whose simplicity I think it not + uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. + Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and + lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. + +CAMILLO I willingly obey your command. + +POLIXENES My best Camillo! We must disguise ourselves. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A road near the Shepherd's cottage. + + + [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] + +AUTOLYCUS When daffodils begin to peer, + With heigh! the doxy over the dale, + Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; + For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. + + The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, + With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! + Doth set my pugging tooth on edge; + For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. + + The lark, that tirra-lyra chants, + With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, + Are summer songs for me and my aunts, + While we lie tumbling in the hay. + + I have served Prince Florizel and in my time + wore three-pile; but now I am out of service: + + But shall I go mourn for that, my dear? + The pale moon shines by night: + And when I wander here and there, + I then do most go right. + + If tinkers may have leave to live, + And bear the sow-skin budget, + Then my account I well may, give, + And in the stocks avouch it. + + My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, look to + lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus; who + being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise + a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and + drab I purchased this caparison, and my revenue is + the silly cheat. Gallows and knock are too powerful + on the highway: beating and hanging are terrors to + me: for the life to come, I sleep out the thought + of it. A prize! a prize! + + [Enter Clown] + +Clown Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; every tod + yields pound and odd shilling; fifteen hundred + shorn. what comes the wool to? + +AUTOLYCUS [Aside] + + If the springe hold, the cock's mine. + +Clown I cannot do't without counters. Let me see; what am + I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast? Three pound + of sugar, five pound of currants, rice,--what will + this sister of mine do with rice? But my father + hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it + on. She hath made me four and twenty nose-gays for + the shearers, three-man-song-men all, and very good + ones; but they are most of them means and bases; but + one puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to + horn-pipes. I must have saffron to colour the warden + pies; mace; dates?--none, that's out of my note; + nutmegs, seven; a race or two of ginger, but that I + may beg; four pound of prunes, and as many of + raisins o' the sun. + +AUTOLYCUS O that ever I was born! + + [Grovelling on the ground] + +Clown I' the name of me-- + +AUTOLYCUS O, help me, help me! pluck but off these rags; and + then, death, death! + +Clown Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of more rags to lay + on thee, rather than have these off. + +AUTOLYCUS O sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more + than the stripes I have received, which are mighty + ones and millions. + +Clown Alas, poor man! a million of beating may come to a + great matter. + +AUTOLYCUS I am robbed, sir, and beaten; my money and apparel + ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon + me. + +Clown What, by a horseman, or a footman? + +AUTOLYCUS A footman, sweet sir, a footman. + +Clown Indeed, he should be a footman by the garments he + has left with thee: if this be a horseman's coat, + it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, + I'll help thee: come, lend me thy hand. + +AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, tenderly, O! + +Clown Alas, poor soul! + +AUTOLYCUS O, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, sir, my + shoulder-blade is out. + +Clown How now! canst stand? + +AUTOLYCUS [Picking his pocket] + + Softly, dear sir; good sir, softly. You ha' done me + a charitable office. + +Clown Dost lack any money? I have a little money for thee. + +AUTOLYCUS No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir: I have + a kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, + unto whom I was going; I shall there have money, or + any thing I want: offer me no money, I pray you; + that kills my heart. + +Clown What manner of fellow was he that robbed you? + +AUTOLYCUS A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with + troll-my-dames; I knew him once a servant of the + prince: I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his + virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court. + +Clown His vices, you would say; there's no virtue whipped + out of the court: they cherish it to make it stay + there; and yet it will no more but abide. + +AUTOLYCUS Vices, I would say, sir. I know this man well: he + hath been since an ape-bearer; then a + process-server, a bailiff; then he compassed a + motion of the Prodigal Son, and married a tinker's + wife within a mile where my land and living lies; + and, having flown over many knavish professions, he + settled only in rogue: some call him Autolycus. + +Clown Out upon him! prig, for my life, prig: he haunts + wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. + +AUTOLYCUS Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that + put me into this apparel. + +Clown Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia: if you had + but looked big and spit at him, he'ld have run. + +AUTOLYCUS I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter: I am + false of heart that way; and that he knew, I warrant + him. + +Clown How do you now? + +AUTOLYCUS Sweet sir, much better than I was; I can stand and + walk: I will even take my leave of you, and pace + softly towards my kinsman's. + +Clown Shall I bring thee on the way? + +AUTOLYCUS No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. + +Clown Then fare thee well: I must go buy spices for our + sheep-shearing. + +AUTOLYCUS Prosper you, sweet sir! + + [Exit Clown] + + Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. + I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too: if I + make not this cheat bring out another and the + shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled and my name + put in the book of virtue! + + [Sings] + + Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, + And merrily hent the stile-a: + A merry heart goes all the day, + Your sad tires in a mile-a. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The Shepherd's cottage. + + + [Enter FLORIZEL and PERDITA] + +FLORIZEL These your unusual weeds to each part of you + Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora + Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing + Is as a meeting of the petty gods, + And you the queen on't. + +PERDITA Sir, my gracious lord, + To chide at your extremes it not becomes me: + O, pardon, that I name them! Your high self, + The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured + With a swain's wearing, and me, poor lowly maid, + Most goddess-like prank'd up: but that our feasts + In every mess have folly and the feeders + Digest it with a custom, I should blush + To see you so attired, sworn, I think, + To show myself a glass. + +FLORIZEL I bless the time + When my good falcon made her flight across + Thy father's ground. + +PERDITA Now Jove afford you cause! + To me the difference forges dread; your greatness + Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble + To think your father, by some accident, + Should pass this way as you did: O, the Fates! + How would he look, to see his work so noble + Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how + Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold + The sternness of his presence? + +FLORIZEL Apprehend + Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, + Humbling their deities to love, have taken + The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter + Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune + A ram, and bleated; and the fire-robed god, + Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain, + As I seem now. Their transformations + Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, + Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires + Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts + Burn hotter than my faith. + +PERDITA O, but, sir, + Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis + Opposed, as it must be, by the power of the king: + One of these two must be necessities, + Which then will speak, that you must + change this purpose, + Or I my life. + +FLORIZEL Thou dearest Perdita, + With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not + The mirth o' the feast. Or I'll be thine, my fair, + Or not my father's. For I cannot be + Mine own, nor any thing to any, if + I be not thine. To this I am most constant, + Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle; + Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing + That you behold the while. Your guests are coming: + Lift up your countenance, as it were the day + Of celebration of that nuptial which + We two have sworn shall come. + +PERDITA O lady Fortune, + Stand you auspicious! + +FLORIZEL See, your guests approach: + Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, + And let's be red with mirth. + + [Enter Shepherd, Clown, MOPSA, DORCAS, and + others, with POLIXENES and CAMILLO disguised] + +Shepherd Fie, daughter! when my old wife lived, upon + This day she was both pantler, butler, cook, + Both dame and servant; welcomed all, served all; + Would sing her song and dance her turn; now here, + At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; + On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire + With labour and the thing she took to quench it, + She would to each one sip. You are retired, + As if you were a feasted one and not + The hostess of the meeting: pray you, bid + These unknown friends to's welcome; for it is + A way to make us better friends, more known. + Come, quench your blushes and present yourself + That which you are, mistress o' the feast: come on, + And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing, + As your good flock shall prosper. + +PERDITA [To POLIXENES] Sir, welcome: + It is my father's will I should take on me + The hostess-ship o' the day. + + [To CAMILLO] + + You're welcome, sir. + Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs, + For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep + Seeming and savour all the winter long: + Grace and remembrance be to you both, + And welcome to our shearing! + +POLIXENES Shepherdess, + A fair one are you--well you fit our ages + With flowers of winter. + +PERDITA Sir, the year growing ancient, + Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth + Of trembling winter, the fairest + flowers o' the season + Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors, + Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind + Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not + To get slips of them. + +POLIXENES Wherefore, gentle maiden, + Do you neglect them? + +PERDITA For I have heard it said + There is an art which in their piedness shares + With great creating nature. + +POLIXENES Say there be; + Yet nature is made better by no mean + But nature makes that mean: so, over that art + Which you say adds to nature, is an art + That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry + A gentler scion to the wildest stock, + And make conceive a bark of baser kind + By bud of nobler race: this is an art + Which does mend nature, change it rather, but + The art itself is nature. + +PERDITA So it is. + +POLIXENES Then make your garden rich in gillyvors, + And do not call them bastards. + +PERDITA I'll not put + The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; + No more than were I painted I would wish + This youth should say 'twere well and only therefore + Desire to breed by me. Here's flowers for you; + Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; + The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun + And with him rises weeping: these are flowers + Of middle summer, and I think they are given + To men of middle age. You're very welcome. + +CAMILLO I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, + And only live by gazing. + +PERDITA Out, alas! + You'd be so lean, that blasts of January + Would blow you through and through. + Now, my fair'st friend, + I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might + Become your time of day; and yours, and yours, + That wear upon your virgin branches yet + Your maidenheads growing: O Proserpina, + For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall + From Dis's waggon! daffodils, + That come before the swallow dares, and take + The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, + But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes + Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses + That die unmarried, ere they can behold + Bight Phoebus in his strength--a malady + Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and + The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, + The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, + To make you garlands of, and my sweet friend, + To strew him o'er and o'er! + +FLORIZEL What, like a corse? + +PERDITA No, like a bank for love to lie and play on; + Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried, + But quick and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers: + Methinks I play as I have seen them do + In Whitsun pastorals: sure this robe of mine + Does change my disposition. + +FLORIZEL What you do + Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. + I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, + I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, + Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, + To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you + A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do + Nothing but that; move still, still so, + And own no other function: each your doing, + So singular in each particular, + Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, + That all your acts are queens. + +PERDITA O Doricles, + Your praises are too large: but that your youth, + And the true blood which peepeth fairly through't, + Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, + With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, + You woo'd me the false way. + +FLORIZEL I think you have + As little skill to fear as I have purpose + To put you to't. But come; our dance, I pray: + Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair, + That never mean to part. + +PERDITA I'll swear for 'em. + +POLIXENES This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever + Ran on the green-sward: nothing she does or seems + But smacks of something greater than herself, + Too noble for this place. + +CAMILLO He tells her something + That makes her blood look out: good sooth, she is + The queen of curds and cream. + +Clown Come on, strike up! + +DORCAS Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, garlic, + To mend her kissing with! + +MOPSA Now, in good time! + +Clown Not a word, a word; we stand upon our manners. + Come, strike up! + + [Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and + Shepherdesses] + +POLIXENES Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain is this + Which dances with your daughter? + +Shepherd They call him Doricles; and boasts himself + To have a worthy feeding: but I have it + Upon his own report and I believe it; + He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter: + I think so too; for never gazed the moon + Upon the water as he'll stand and read + As 'twere my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain. + I think there is not half a kiss to choose + Who loves another best. + +POLIXENES She dances featly. + +Shepherd So she does any thing; though I report it, + That should be silent: if young Doricles + Do light upon her, she shall bring him that + Which he not dreams of. + + [Enter Servant] + +Servant O master, if you did but hear the pedlar at the + door, you would never dance again after a tabour and + pipe; no, the bagpipe could not move you: he sings + several tunes faster than you'll tell money; he + utters them as he had eaten ballads and all men's + ears grew to his tunes. + +Clown He could never come better; he shall come in. I + love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful + matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing + indeed and sung lamentably. + +Servant He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes; no + milliner can so fit his customers with gloves: he + has the prettiest love-songs for maids; so without + bawdry, which is strange; with such delicate + burthens of dildos and fadings, 'jump her and thump + her;' and where some stretch-mouthed rascal would, + as it were, mean mischief and break a foul gap into + the matter, he makes the maid to answer 'Whoop, do me + no harm, good man;' puts him off, slights him, with + 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man.' + +POLIXENES This is a brave fellow. + +Clown Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable conceited + fellow. Has he any unbraided wares? + +Servant He hath ribbons of an the colours i' the rainbow; + points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can + learnedly handle, though they come to him by the + gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns: why, he + sings 'em over as they were gods or goddesses; you + would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants + to the sleeve-hand and the work about the square on't. + +Clown Prithee bring him in; and let him approach singing. + +PERDITA Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in 's tunes. + + [Exit Servant] + +Clown You have of these pedlars, that have more in them + than you'ld think, sister. + +PERDITA Ay, good brother, or go about to think. + + [Enter AUTOLYCUS, singing] + +AUTOLYCUS Lawn as white as driven snow; + Cyprus black as e'er was crow; + Gloves as sweet as damask roses; + Masks for faces and for noses; + Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, + Perfume for a lady's chamber; + Golden quoifs and stomachers, + For my lads to give their dears: + Pins and poking-sticks of steel, + What maids lack from head to heel: + Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; + Buy lads, or else your lasses cry: Come buy. + +Clown If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou shouldst take + no money of me; but being enthralled as I am, it + will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves. + +MOPSA I was promised them against the feast; but they come + not too late now. + +DORCAS He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars. + +MOPSA He hath paid you all he promised you; may be, he has + paid you more, which will shame you to give him again. + +Clown Is there no manners left among maids? will they + wear their plackets where they should bear their + faces? Is there not milking-time, when you are + going to bed, or kiln-hole, to whistle off these + secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all + our guests? 'tis well they are whispering: clamour + your tongues, and not a word more. + +MOPSA I have done. Come, you promised me a tawdry-lace + and a pair of sweet gloves. + +Clown Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way + and lost all my money? + +AUTOLYCUS And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad; + therefore it behoves men to be wary. + +Clown Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose nothing here. + +AUTOLYCUS I hope so, sir; for I have about me many parcels of charge. + +Clown What hast here? ballads? + +MOPSA Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print o' + life, for then we are sure they are true. + +AUTOLYCUS Here's one to a very doleful tune, how a usurer's + wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a + burthen and how she longed to eat adders' heads and + toads carbonadoed. + +MOPSA Is it true, think you? + +AUTOLYCUS Very true, and but a month old. + +DORCAS Bless me from marrying a usurer! + +AUTOLYCUS Here's the midwife's name to't, one Mistress + Tale-porter, and five or six honest wives that were + present. Why should I carry lies abroad? + +MOPSA Pray you now, buy it. + +Clown Come on, lay it by: and let's first see moe + ballads; we'll buy the other things anon. + +AUTOLYCUS Here's another ballad of a fish, that appeared upon + the coast on Wednesday the four-score of April, + forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this + ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was + thought she was a woman and was turned into a cold + fish for she would not exchange flesh with one that + loved her: the ballad is very pitiful and as true. + +DORCAS Is it true too, think you? + +AUTOLYCUS Five justices' hands at it, and witnesses more than + my pack will hold. + +Clown Lay it by too: another. + +AUTOLYCUS This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one. + +MOPSA Let's have some merry ones. + +AUTOLYCUS Why, this is a passing merry one and goes to + the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man:' there's + scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in + request, I can tell you. + +MOPSA We can both sing it: if thou'lt bear a part, thou + shalt hear; 'tis in three parts. + +DORCAS We had the tune on't a month ago. + +AUTOLYCUS I can bear my part; you must know 'tis my + occupation; have at it with you. + [SONG] + +AUTOLYCUS Get you hence, for I must go + Where it fits not you to know. + +DORCAS Whither? + +MOPSA O, whither? + +DORCAS Whither? + +MOPSA It becomes thy oath full well, + Thou to me thy secrets tell. + +DORCAS Me too, let me go thither. + +MOPSA Or thou goest to the orange or mill. + +DORCAS If to either, thou dost ill. + +AUTOLYCUS Neither. + +DORCAS What, neither? + +AUTOLYCUS Neither. + +DORCAS Thou hast sworn my love to be. + +MOPSA Thou hast sworn it more to me: + Then whither goest? say, whither? + +Clown We'll have this song out anon by ourselves: my + father and the gentlemen are in sad talk, and we'll + not trouble them. Come, bring away thy pack after + me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Pedlar, let's + have the first choice. Follow me, girls. + + [Exit with DORCAS and MOPSA] + +AUTOLYCUS And you shall pay well for 'em. + + [Follows singing] + + Will you buy any tape, + Or lace for your cape, + My dainty duck, my dear-a? + Any silk, any thread, + Any toys for your head, + Of the new'st and finest, finest wear-a? + Come to the pedlar; + Money's a medler. + That doth utter all men's ware-a. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter Servant] + +Servant Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, + three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made + themselves all men of hair, they call themselves + Saltiers, and they have a dance which the wenches + say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are + not in't; but they themselves are o' the mind, if it + be not too rough for some that know little but + bowling, it will please plentifully. + +Shepherd Away! we'll none on 't: here has been too much + homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you. + +POLIXENES You weary those that refresh us: pray, let's see + these four threes of herdsmen. + +Servant One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath + danced before the king; and not the worst of the + three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squier. + +Shepherd Leave your prating: since these good men are + pleased, let them come in; but quickly now. + +Servant Why, they stay at door, sir. + + [Exit] + + [Here a dance of twelve Satyrs] + +POLIXENES O, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. + + [To CAMILLO] + + Is it not too far gone? 'Tis time to part them. + He's simple and tells much. + + [To FLORIZEL] + + How now, fair shepherd! + Your heart is full of something that does take + Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young + And handed love as you do, I was wont + To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'd + The pedlar's silken treasury and have pour'd it + To her acceptance; you have let him go + And nothing marted with him. If your lass + Interpretation should abuse and call this + Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited + For a reply, at least if you make a care + Of happy holding her. + +FLORIZEL Old sir, I know + She prizes not such trifles as these are: + The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd + Up in my heart; which I have given already, + But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life + Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, + Hath sometime loved! I take thy hand, this hand, + As soft as dove's down and as white as it, + Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd + snow that's bolted + By the northern blasts twice o'er. + +POLIXENES What follows this? + How prettily the young swain seems to wash + The hand was fair before! I have put you out: + But to your protestation; let me hear + What you profess. + +FLORIZEL Do, and be witness to 't. + +POLIXENES And this my neighbour too? + +FLORIZEL And he, and more + Than he, and men, the earth, the heavens, and all: + That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, + Thereof most worthy, were I the fairest youth + That ever made eye swerve, had force and knowledge + More than was ever man's, I would not prize them + Without her love; for her employ them all; + Commend them and condemn them to her service + Or to their own perdition. + +POLIXENES Fairly offer'd. + +CAMILLO This shows a sound affection. + +Shepherd But, my daughter, + Say you the like to him? + +PERDITA I cannot speak + So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: + By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out + The purity of his. + +Shepherd Take hands, a bargain! + And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't: + I give my daughter to him, and will make + Her portion equal his. + +FLORIZEL O, that must be + I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, + I shall have more than you can dream of yet; + Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, + Contract us 'fore these witnesses. + +Shepherd Come, your hand; + And, daughter, yours. + +POLIXENES Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; + Have you a father? + +FLORIZEL I have: but what of him? + +POLIXENES Knows he of this? + +FLORIZEL He neither does nor shall. + +POLIXENES Methinks a father + Is at the nuptial of his son a guest + That best becomes the table. Pray you once more, + Is not your father grown incapable + Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid + With age and altering rheums? can he speak? hear? + Know man from man? dispute his own estate? + Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing + But what he did being childish? + +FLORIZEL No, good sir; + He has his health and ampler strength indeed + Than most have of his age. + +POLIXENES By my white beard, + You offer him, if this be so, a wrong + Something unfilial: reason my son + Should choose himself a wife, but as good reason + The father, all whose joy is nothing else + But fair posterity, should hold some counsel + In such a business. + +FLORIZEL I yield all this; + But for some other reasons, my grave sir, + Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint + My father of this business. + +POLIXENES Let him know't. + +FLORIZEL He shall not. + +POLIXENES Prithee, let him. + +FLORIZEL No, he must not. + +Shepherd Let him, my son: he shall not need to grieve + At knowing of thy choice. + +FLORIZEL Come, come, he must not. + Mark our contract. + +POLIXENES Mark your divorce, young sir, + + [Discovering himself] + + Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base + To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir, + That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! Thou old traitor, + I am sorry that by hanging thee I can + But shorten thy life one week. And thou, fresh piece + Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know + The royal fool thou copest with,-- + +Shepherd O, my heart! + +POLIXENES I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made + More homely than thy state. For thee, fond boy, + If I may ever know thou dost but sigh + That thou no more shalt see this knack, as never + I mean thou shalt, we'll bar thee from succession; + Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin, + Far than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: + Follow us to the court. Thou churl, for this time, + Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee + From the dead blow of it. And you, enchantment.-- + Worthy enough a herdsman: yea, him too, + That makes himself, but for our honour therein, + Unworthy thee,--if ever henceforth thou + These rural latches to his entrance open, + Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, + I will devise a death as cruel for thee + As thou art tender to't. + + [Exit] + +PERDITA Even here undone! + I was not much afeard; for once or twice + I was about to speak and tell him plainly, + The selfsame sun that shines upon his court + Hides not his visage from our cottage but + Looks on alike. Will't please you, sir, be gone? + I told you what would come of this: beseech you, + Of your own state take care: this dream of mine,-- + Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch farther, + But milk my ewes and weep. + +CAMILLO Why, how now, father! + Speak ere thou diest. + +Shepherd I cannot speak, nor think + Nor dare to know that which I know. O sir! + You have undone a man of fourscore three, + That thought to fill his grave in quiet, yea, + To die upon the bed my father died, + To lie close by his honest bones: but now + Some hangman must put on my shroud and lay me + Where no priest shovels in dust. O cursed wretch, + That knew'st this was the prince, + and wouldst adventure + To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone! + If I might die within this hour, I have lived + To die when I desire. + + [Exit] + +FLORIZEL Why look you so upon me? + I am but sorry, not afeard; delay'd, + But nothing alter'd: what I was, I am; + More straining on for plucking back, not following + My leash unwillingly. + +CAMILLO Gracious my lord, + You know your father's temper: at this time + He will allow no speech, which I do guess + You do not purpose to him; and as hardly + Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: + Then, till the fury of his highness settle, + Come not before him. + +FLORIZEL I not purpose it. + I think, Camillo? + +CAMILLO Even he, my lord. + +PERDITA How often have I told you 'twould be thus! + How often said, my dignity would last + But till 'twere known! + +FLORIZEL It cannot fail but by + The violation of my faith; and then + Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together + And mar the seeds within! Lift up thy looks: + From my succession wipe me, father; I + Am heir to my affection. + +CAMILLO Be advised. + +FLORIZEL I am, and by my fancy: if my reason + Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; + If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, + Do bid it welcome. + +CAMILLO This is desperate, sir. + +FLORIZEL So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; + I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, + Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may + Be thereat glean'd, for all the sun sees or + The close earth wombs or the profound sea hides + In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath + To this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you, + As you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, + When he shall miss me,--as, in faith, I mean not + To see him any more,--cast your good counsels + Upon his passion; let myself and fortune + Tug for the time to come. This you may know + And so deliver, I am put to sea + With her whom here I cannot hold on shore; + And most opportune to our need I have + A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared + For this design. What course I mean to hold + Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor + Concern me the reporting. + +CAMILLO O my lord! + I would your spirit were easier for advice, + Or stronger for your need. + +FLORIZEL Hark, Perdita + + [Drawing her aside] + + I'll hear you by and by. + +CAMILLO He's irremoveable, + Resolved for flight. Now were I happy, if + His going I could frame to serve my turn, + Save him from danger, do him love and honour, + Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia + And that unhappy king, my master, whom + I so much thirst to see. + +FLORIZEL Now, good Camillo; + I am so fraught with curious business that + I leave out ceremony. + +CAMILLO Sir, I think + You have heard of my poor services, i' the love + That I have borne your father? + +FLORIZEL Very nobly + Have you deserved: it is my father's music + To speak your deeds, not little of his care + To have them recompensed as thought on. + +CAMILLO Well, my lord, + If you may please to think I love the king + And through him what is nearest to him, which is + Your gracious self, embrace but my direction: + If your more ponderous and settled project + May suffer alteration, on mine honour, + I'll point you where you shall have such receiving + As shall become your highness; where you may + Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see, + There's no disjunction to be made, but by-- + As heavens forefend!--your ruin; marry her, + And, with my best endeavours in your absence, + Your discontenting father strive to qualify + And bring him up to liking. + +FLORIZEL How, Camillo, + May this, almost a miracle, be done? + That I may call thee something more than man + And after that trust to thee. + +CAMILLO Have you thought on + A place whereto you'll go? + +FLORIZEL Not any yet: + But as the unthought-on accident is guilty + To what we wildly do, so we profess + Ourselves to be the slaves of chance and flies + Of every wind that blows. + +CAMILLO Then list to me: + This follows, if you will not change your purpose + But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, + And there present yourself and your fair princess, + For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes: + She shall be habited as it becomes + The partner of your bed. Methinks I see + Leontes opening his free arms and weeping + His welcomes forth; asks thee the son forgiveness, + As 'twere i' the father's person; kisses the hands + Of your fresh princess; o'er and o'er divides him + 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness; the one + He chides to hell and bids the other grow + Faster than thought or time. + +FLORIZEL Worthy Camillo, + What colour for my visitation shall I + Hold up before him? + +CAMILLO Sent by the king your father + To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, + The manner of your bearing towards him, with + What you as from your father shall deliver, + Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down: + The which shall point you forth at every sitting + What you must say; that he shall not perceive + But that you have your father's bosom there + And speak his very heart. + +FLORIZEL I am bound to you: + There is some sap in this. + +CAMILLO A cause more promising + Than a wild dedication of yourselves + To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most certain + To miseries enough; no hope to help you, + But as you shake off one to take another; + Nothing so certain as your anchors, who + Do their best office, if they can but stay you + Where you'll be loath to be: besides you know + Prosperity's the very bond of love, + Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together + Affliction alters. + +PERDITA One of these is true: + I think affliction may subdue the cheek, + But not take in the mind. + +CAMILLO Yea, say you so? + There shall not at your father's house these + seven years + Be born another such. + +FLORIZEL My good Camillo, + She is as forward of her breeding as + She is i' the rear our birth. + +CAMILLO I cannot say 'tis pity + She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress + To most that teach. + +PERDITA Your pardon, sir; for this + I'll blush you thanks. + +FLORIZEL My prettiest Perdita! + But O, the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, + Preserver of my father, now of me, + The medicine of our house, how shall we do? + We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son, + Nor shall appear in Sicilia. + +CAMILLO My lord, + Fear none of this: I think you know my fortunes + Do all lie there: it shall be so my care + To have you royally appointed as if + The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir, + That you may know you shall not want, one word. + + [They talk aside] + + [Re-enter AUTOLYCUS] + +AUTOLYCUS Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is! and Trust, his + sworn brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold + all my trumpery; not a counterfeit stone, not a + ribbon, glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, + knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, + to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who + should buy first, as if my trinkets had been + hallowed and brought a benediction to the buyer: + by which means I saw whose purse was best in + picture; and what I saw, to my good use I + remembered. My clown, who wants but something to + be a reasonable man, grew so in love with the + wenches' song, that he would not stir his pettitoes + till he had both tune and words; which so drew the + rest of the herd to me that all their other senses + stuck in ears: you might have pinched a placket, it + was senseless; 'twas nothing to geld a codpiece of a + purse; I could have filed keys off that hung in + chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, + and admiring the nothing of it. So that in this + time of lethargy I picked and cut most of their + festival purses; and had not the old man come in + with a whoo-bub against his daughter and the king's + son and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not + left a purse alive in the whole army. + + [CAMILLO, FLORIZEL, and PERDITA come forward] + +CAMILLO Nay, but my letters, by this means being there + So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. + +FLORIZEL And those that you'll procure from King Leontes-- + +CAMILLO Shall satisfy your father. + +PERDITA Happy be you! + All that you speak shows fair. + +CAMILLO Who have we here? + + [Seeing AUTOLYCUS] + + We'll make an instrument of this, omit + Nothing may give us aid. + +AUTOLYCUS If they have overheard me now, why, hanging. + +CAMILLO How now, good fellow! why shakest thou so? Fear + not, man; here's no harm intended to thee. + +AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. + +CAMILLO Why, be so still; here's nobody will steal that from + thee: yet for the outside of thy poverty we must + make an exchange; therefore discase thee instantly, + --thou must think there's a necessity in't,--and + change garments with this gentleman: though the + pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, + there's some boot. + +AUTOLYCUS I am a poor fellow, sir. + + [Aside] + + I know ye well enough. + +CAMILLO Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman is half + flayed already. + +AUTOLYCUS Are you in earnest, sir? + + [Aside] + + I smell the trick on't. + +FLORIZEL Dispatch, I prithee. + +AUTOLYCUS Indeed, I have had earnest: but I cannot with + conscience take it. + +CAMILLO Unbuckle, unbuckle. + + [FLORIZEL and AUTOLYCUS exchange garments] + + Fortunate mistress,--let my prophecy + Come home to ye!--you must retire yourself + Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat + And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your face, + Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken + The truth of your own seeming; that you may-- + For I do fear eyes over--to shipboard + Get undescried. + +PERDITA I see the play so lies + That I must bear a part. + +CAMILLO No remedy. + Have you done there? + +FLORIZEL Should I now meet my father, + He would not call me son. + +CAMILLO Nay, you shall have no hat. + + [Giving it to PERDITA] + + Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. + +AUTOLYCUS Adieu, sir. + +FLORIZEL O Perdita, what have we twain forgot! + Pray you, a word. + +CAMILLO [Aside] What I do next, shall be to tell the king + Of this escape and whither they are bound; + Wherein my hope is I shall so prevail + To force him after: in whose company + I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight + I have a woman's longing. + +FLORIZEL Fortune speed us! + Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. + +CAMILLO The swifter speed the better. + + [Exeunt FLORIZEL, PERDITA, and CAMILLO] + +AUTOLYCUS I understand the business, I hear it: to have an + open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is + necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose is requisite + also, to smell out work for the other senses. I see + this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. + What an exchange had this been without boot! What + a boot is here with this exchange! Sure the gods do + this year connive at us, and we may do any thing + extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of + iniquity, stealing away from his father with his + clog at his heels: if I thought it were a piece of + honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would not + do't: I hold it the more knavery to conceal it; + and therein am I constant to my profession. + + [Re-enter Clown and Shepherd] + + Aside, aside; here is more matter for a hot brain: + every lane's end, every shop, church, session, + hanging, yields a careful man work. + +Clown See, see; what a man you are now! + There is no other way but to tell the king + she's a changeling and none of your flesh and blood. + +Shepherd Nay, but hear me. + +Clown Nay, but hear me. + +Shepherd Go to, then. + +Clown She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh + and blood has not offended the king; and so your + flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show + those things you found about her, those secret + things, all but what she has with her: this being + done, let the law go whistle: I warrant you. + +Shepherd I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his + son's pranks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, + neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make + me the king's brother-in-law. + +Clown Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you + could have been to him and then your blood had been + the dearer by I know how much an ounce. + +AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Very wisely, puppies! + +Shepherd Well, let us to the king: there is that in this + fardel will make him scratch his beard. + +AUTOLYCUS [Aside] I know not what impediment this complaint + may be to the flight of my master. + +Clown Pray heartily he be at palace. + +AUTOLYCUS [Aside] Though I am not naturally honest, I am so + sometimes by chance: let me pocket up my pedlar's excrement. + + [Takes off his false beard] + + How now, rustics! whither are you bound? + +Shepherd To the palace, an it like your worship. + +AUTOLYCUS Your affairs there, what, with whom, the condition + of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your + names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any + thing that is fitting to be known, discover. + +Clown We are but plain fellows, sir. + +AUTOLYCUS A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no + lying: it becomes none but tradesmen, and they + often give us soldiers the lie: but we pay them for + it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel; therefore + they do not give us the lie. + +Clown Your worship had like to have given us one, if you + had not taken yourself with the manner. + +Shepherd Are you a courtier, an't like you, sir? + +AUTOLYCUS Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. Seest + thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings? + hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? + receives not thy nose court-odor from me? reflect I + not on thy baseness court-contempt? Thinkest thou, + for that I insinuate, or toaze from thee thy + business, I am therefore no courtier? I am courtier + cap-a-pe; and one that will either push on or pluck + back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to + open thy affair. + +Shepherd My business, sir, is to the king. + +AUTOLYCUS What advocate hast thou to him? + +Shepherd I know not, an't like you. + +Clown Advocate's the court-word for a pheasant: say you + have none. + +Shepherd None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock nor hen. + +AUTOLYCUS How blessed are we that are not simple men! + Yet nature might have made me as these are, + Therefore I will not disdain. + +Clown This cannot be but a great courtier. + +Shepherd His garments are rich, but he wears + them not handsomely. + +Clown He seems to be the more noble in being fantastical: + a great man, I'll warrant; I know by the picking + on's teeth. + +AUTOLYCUS The fardel there? what's i' the fardel? + Wherefore that box? + +Shepherd Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box, + which none must know but the king; and which he + shall know within this hour, if I may come to the + speech of him. + +AUTOLYCUS Age, thou hast lost thy labour. + +Shepherd Why, sir? + +AUTOLYCUS The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a + new ship to purge melancholy and air himself: for, + if thou beest capable of things serious, thou must + know the king is full of grief. + +Shepard So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that should have + married a shepherd's daughter. + +AUTOLYCUS If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly: + the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall + feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster. + +Clown Think you so, sir? + +AUTOLYCUS Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy + and vengeance bitter; but those that are germane to + him, though removed fifty times, shall all come + under the hangman: which though it be great pity, + yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue a + ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come into + grace! Some say he shall be stoned; but that death + is too soft for him, say I draw our throne into a + sheep-cote! all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy. + +Clown Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear. an't + like you, sir? + +AUTOLYCUS He has a son, who shall be flayed alive; then + 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a + wasp's nest; then stand till he be three quarters + and a dram dead; then recovered again with + aqua-vitae or some other hot infusion; then, raw as + he is, and in the hottest day prognostication + proclaims, shall be be set against a brick-wall, the + sun looking with a southward eye upon him, where he + is to behold him with flies blown to death. But what + talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries + are to be smiled at, their offences being so + capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest plain + men, what you have to the king: being something + gently considered, I'll bring you where he is + aboard, tender your persons to his presence, + whisper him in your behalfs; and if it be in man + besides the king to effect your suits, here is man + shall do it. + +Clown He seems to be of great authority: close with him, + give him gold; and though authority be a stubborn + bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold: show + the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, + and no more ado. Remember 'stoned,' and 'flayed alive.' + +Shepherd An't please you, sir, to undertake the business for + us, here is that gold I have: I'll make it as much + more and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you. + +AUTOLYCUS After I have done what I promised? + +Shepherd Ay, sir. + +AUTOLYCUS Well, give me the moiety. Are you a party in this business? + +Clown In some sort, sir: but though my case be a pitiful + one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it. + +AUTOLYCUS O, that's the case of the shepherd's son: hang him, + he'll be made an example. + +Clown Comfort, good comfort! We must to the king and show + our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your + daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I + will give you as much as this old man does when the + business is performed, and remain, as he says, your + pawn till it be brought you. + +AUTOLYCUS I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea-side; + go on the right hand: I will but look upon the + hedge and follow you. + +Clown We are blest in this man, as I may say, even blest. + +Shepherd Let's before as he bids us: he was provided to do us good. + + [Exeunt Shepherd and Clown] + +AUTOLYCUS If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would + not suffer me: she drops booties in my mouth. I am + courted now with a double occasion, gold and a means + to do the prince my master good; which who knows how + that may turn back to my advancement? I will bring + these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him: if he + think it fit to shore them again and that the + complaint they have to the king concerns him + nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far + officious; for I am proof against that title and + what shame else belongs to't. To him will I present + them: there may be matter in it. + + [Exit] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I A room in LEONTES' palace. + + + [Enter LEONTES, CLEOMENES, DION, PAULINA, and Servants] + +CLEOMENES Sir, you have done enough, and have perform'd + A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make, + Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid down + More penitence than done trespass: at the last, + Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; + With them forgive yourself. + +LEONTES Whilst I remember + Her and her virtues, I cannot forget + My blemishes in them, and so still think of + The wrong I did myself; which was so much, + That heirless it hath made my kingdom and + Destroy'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man + Bred his hopes out of. + +PAULINA True, too true, my lord: + If, one by one, you wedded all the world, + Or from the all that are took something good, + To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd + Would be unparallel'd. + +LEONTES I think so. Kill'd! + She I kill'd! I did so: but thou strikest me + Sorely, to say I did; it is as bitter + Upon thy tongue as in my thought: now, good now, + Say so but seldom. + +CLEOMENES Not at all, good lady: + You might have spoken a thousand things that would + Have done the time more benefit and graced + Your kindness better. + +PAULINA You are one of those + Would have him wed again. + +DION If you would not so, + You pity not the state, nor the remembrance + Of his most sovereign name; consider little + What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, + May drop upon his kingdom and devour + Incertain lookers on. What were more holy + Than to rejoice the former queen is well? + What holier than, for royalty's repair, + For present comfort and for future good, + To bless the bed of majesty again + With a sweet fellow to't? + +PAULINA There is none worthy, + Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods + Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes; + For has not the divine Apollo said, + Is't not the tenor of his oracle, + That King Leontes shall not have an heir + Till his lost child be found? which that it shall, + Is all as monstrous to our human reason + As my Antigonus to break his grave + And come again to me; who, on my life, + Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel + My lord should to the heavens be contrary, + Oppose against their wills. + + [To LEONTES] + + Care not for issue; + The crown will find an heir: great Alexander + Left his to the worthiest; so his successor + Was like to be the best. + +LEONTES Good Paulina, + Who hast the memory of Hermione, + I know, in honour, O, that ever I + Had squared me to thy counsel! then, even now, + I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, + Have taken treasure from her lips-- + +PAULINA And left them + More rich for what they yielded. + +LEONTES Thou speak'st truth. + No more such wives; therefore, no wife: one worse, + And better used, would make her sainted spirit + Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, + Where we're offenders now, appear soul-vex'd, + And begin, 'Why to me?' + +PAULINA Had she such power, + She had just cause. + +LEONTES She had; and would incense me + To murder her I married. + +PAULINA I should so. + Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'ld bid you mark + Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't + You chose her; then I'ld shriek, that even your ears + Should rift to hear me; and the words that follow'd + Should be 'Remember mine.' + +LEONTES Stars, stars, + And all eyes else dead coals! Fear thou no wife; + I'll have no wife, Paulina. + +PAULINA Will you swear + Never to marry but by my free leave? + +LEONTES Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! + +PAULINA Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath. + +CLEOMENES You tempt him over-much. + +PAULINA Unless another, + As like Hermione as is her picture, + Affront his eye. + +CLEOMENES Good madam,-- + +PAULINA I have done. + Yet, if my lord will marry,--if you will, sir, + No remedy, but you will,--give me the office + To choose you a queen: she shall not be so young + As was your former; but she shall be such + As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, + it should take joy + To see her in your arms. + +LEONTES My true Paulina, + We shall not marry till thou bid'st us. + +PAULINA That + Shall be when your first queen's again in breath; + Never till then. + + [Enter a Gentleman] + +Gentleman One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, + Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she + The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access + To your high presence. + +LEONTES What with him? he comes not + Like to his father's greatness: his approach, + So out of circumstance and sudden, tells us + 'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced + By need and accident. What train? + +Gentleman But few, + And those but mean. + +LEONTES His princess, say you, with him? + +Gentleman Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, I think, + That e'er the sun shone bright on. + +PAULINA O Hermione, + As every present time doth boast itself + Above a better gone, so must thy grave + Give way to what's seen now! Sir, you yourself + Have said and writ so, but your writing now + Is colder than that theme, 'She had not been, + Nor was not to be equall'd;'--thus your verse + Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, + To say you have seen a better. + +Gentleman Pardon, madam: + The one I have almost forgot,--your pardon,-- + The other, when she has obtain'd your eye, + Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, + Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal + Of all professors else, make proselytes + Of who she but bid follow. + +PAULINA How! not women? + +Gentleman Women will love her, that she is a woman + More worth than any man; men, that she is + The rarest of all women. + +LEONTES Go, Cleomenes; + Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends, + Bring them to our embracement. Still, 'tis strange + + [Exeunt CLEOMENES and others] + + He thus should steal upon us. + +PAULINA Had our prince, + Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd + Well with this lord: there was not full a month + Between their births. + +LEONTES Prithee, no more; cease; thou know'st + He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure, + When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches + Will bring me to consider that which may + Unfurnish me of reason. They are come. + + [Re-enter CLEOMENES and others, with FLORIZEL and PERDITA] + + Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; + For she did print your royal father off, + Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, + Your father's image is so hit in you, + His very air, that I should call you brother, + As I did him, and speak of something wildly + By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome! + And your fair princess,--goddess!--O, alas! + I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth + Might thus have stood begetting wonder as + You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost-- + All mine own folly--the society, + Amity too, of your brave father, whom, + Though bearing misery, I desire my life + Once more to look on him. + +FLORIZEL By his command + Have I here touch'd Sicilia and from him + Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, + Can send his brother: and, but infirmity + Which waits upon worn times hath something seized + His wish'd ability, he had himself + The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his + Measured to look upon you; whom he loves-- + He bade me say so--more than all the sceptres + And those that bear them living. + +LEONTES O my brother, + Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee stir + Afresh within me, and these thy offices, + So rarely kind, are as interpreters + Of my behind-hand slackness. Welcome hither, + As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too + Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage, + At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, + To greet a man not worth her pains, much less + The adventure of her person? + +FLORIZEL Good my lord, + She came from Libya. + +LEONTES Where the warlike Smalus, + That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved? + +FLORIZEL Most royal sir, from thence; from him, whose daughter + His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her: thence, + A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have cross'd, + To execute the charge my father gave me + For visiting your highness: my best train + I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; + Who for Bohemia bend, to signify + Not only my success in Libya, sir, + But my arrival and my wife's in safety + Here where we are. + +LEONTES The blessed gods + Purge all infection from our air whilst you + Do climate here! You have a holy father, + A graceful gentleman; against whose person, + So sacred as it is, I have done sin: + For which the heavens, taking angry note, + Have left me issueless; and your father's blest, + As he from heaven merits it, with you + Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, + Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, + Such goodly things as you! + + [Enter a Lord] + +Lord Most noble sir, + That which I shall report will bear no credit, + Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, + Bohemia greets you from himself by me; + Desires you to attach his son, who has-- + His dignity and duty both cast off-- + Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with + A shepherd's daughter. + +LEONTES Where's Bohemia? speak. + +Lord Here in your city; I now came from him: + I speak amazedly; and it becomes + My marvel and my message. To your court + Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, + Of this fair couple, meets he on the way + The father of this seeming lady and + Her brother, having both their country quitted + With this young prince. + +FLORIZEL Camillo has betray'd me; + Whose honour and whose honesty till now + Endured all weathers. + +Lord Lay't so to his charge: + He's with the king your father. + +LEONTES Who? Camillo? + +Lord Camillo, sir; I spake with him; who now + Has these poor men in question. Never saw I + Wretches so quake: they kneel, they kiss the earth; + Forswear themselves as often as they speak: + Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them + With divers deaths in death. + +PERDITA O my poor father! + The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have + Our contract celebrated. + +LEONTES You are married? + +FLORIZEL We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; + The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: + The odds for high and low's alike. + +LEONTES My lord, + Is this the daughter of a king? + +FLORIZEL She is, + When once she is my wife. + +LEONTES That 'once' I see by your good father's speed + Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, + Most sorry, you have broken from his liking + Where you were tied in duty, and as sorry + Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, + That you might well enjoy her. + +FLORIZEL Dear, look up: + Though Fortune, visible an enemy, + Should chase us with my father, power no jot + Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, sir, + Remember since you owed no more to time + Than I do now: with thought of such affections, + Step forth mine advocate; at your request + My father will grant precious things as trifles. + +LEONTES Would he do so, I'ld beg your precious mistress, + Which he counts but a trifle. + +PAULINA Sir, my liege, + Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a month + 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes + Than what you look on now. + +LEONTES I thought of her, + Even in these looks I made. + + [To FLORIZEL] + + But your petition + Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: + Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, + I am friend to them and you: upon which errand + I now go toward him; therefore follow me + And mark what way I make: come, good my lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Before LEONTES' palace. + + + [Enter AUTOLYCUS and a Gentleman] + +AUTOLYCUS Beseech you, sir, were you present at this relation? + +First Gentleman I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old + shepherd deliver the manner how he found it: + whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all + commanded out of the chamber; only this methought I + heard the shepherd say, he found the child. + +AUTOLYCUS I would most gladly know the issue of it. + +First Gentleman I make a broken delivery of the business; but the + changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were + very notes of admiration: they seemed almost, with + staring on one another, to tear the cases of their + eyes; there was speech in their dumbness, language + in their very gesture; they looked as they had heard + of a world ransomed, or one destroyed: a notable + passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest + beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not + say if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the + extremity of the one, it must needs be. + + [Enter another Gentleman] + + Here comes a gentleman that haply knows more. + The news, Rogero? + +Second Gentleman Nothing but bonfires: the oracle is fulfilled; the + king's daughter is found: such a deal of wonder is + broken out within this hour that ballad-makers + cannot be able to express it. + + [Enter a third Gentleman] + + Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he can + deliver you more. How goes it now, sir? this news + which is called true is so like an old tale, that + the verity of it is in strong suspicion: has the king + found his heir? + +Third Gentleman Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by + circumstance: that which you hear you'll swear you + see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle + of Queen Hermione's, her jewel about the neck of it, + the letters of Antigonus found with it which they + know to be his character, the majesty of the + creature in resemblance of the mother, the affection + of nobleness which nature shows above her breeding, + and many other evidences proclaim her with all + certainty to be the king's daughter. Did you see + the meeting of the two kings? + +Second Gentleman No. + +Third Gentleman Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, + cannot be spoken of. There might you have beheld one + joy crown another, so and in such manner that it + seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their + joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, + holding up of hands, with countenances of such + distraction that they were to be known by garment, + not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of + himself for joy of his found daughter, as if that + joy were now become a loss, cries 'O, thy mother, + thy mother!' then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then + embraces his son-in-law; then again worries he his + daughter with clipping her; now he thanks the old + shepherd, which stands by like a weather-bitten + conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such + another encounter, which lames report to follow it + and undoes description to do it. + +Second Gentleman What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried + hence the child? + +Third Gentleman Like an old tale still, which will have matter to + rehearse, though credit be asleep and not an ear + open. He was torn to pieces with a bear: this + avouches the shepherd's son; who has not only his + innocence, which seems much, to justify him, but a + handkerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. + +First Gentleman What became of his bark and his followers? + +Third Gentleman Wrecked the same instant of their master's death and + in the view of the shepherd: so that all the + instruments which aided to expose the child were + even then lost when it was found. But O, the noble + combat that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in + Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of + her husband, another elevated that the oracle was + fulfilled: she lifted the princess from the earth, + and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin + her to her heart that she might no more be in danger + of losing. + +First Gentleman The dignity of this act was worth the audience of + kings and princes; for by such was it acted. + +Third Gentleman One of the prettiest touches of all and that which + angled for mine eyes, caught the water though not + the fish, was when, at the relation of the queen's + death, with the manner how she came to't bravely + confessed and lamented by the king, how + attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from one + sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 'Alas,' + I would fain say, bleed tears, for I am sure my + heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed + colour; some swooned, all sorrowed: if all the world + could have seen 't, the woe had been universal. + +First Gentleman Are they returned to the court? + +Third Gentleman No: the princess hearing of her mother's statue, + which is in the keeping of Paulina,--a piece many + years in doing and now newly performed by that rare + Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself + eternity and could put breath into his work, would + beguile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her + ape: he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that + they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of + answer: thither with all greediness of affection + are they gone, and there they intend to sup. + +Second Gentleman I thought she had some great matter there in hand; + for she hath privately twice or thrice a day, ever + since the death of Hermione, visited that removed + house. Shall we thither and with our company piece + the rejoicing? + +First Gentleman Who would be thence that has the benefit of access? + every wink of an eye some new grace will be born: + our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. + Let's along. + + [Exeunt Gentlemen] + +AUTOLYCUS Now, had I not the dash of my former life in me, + would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old + man and his son aboard the prince: told him I heard + them talk of a fardel and I know not what: but he + at that time, overfond of the shepherd's daughter, + so he then took her to be, who began to be much + sea-sick, and himself little better, extremity of + weather continuing, this mystery remained + undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I + been the finder out of this secret, it would not + have relished among my other discredits. + + [Enter Shepherd and Clown] + + Here come those I have done good to against my will, + and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune. + +Shepherd Come, boy; I am past moe children, but thy sons and + daughters will be all gentlemen born. + +Clown You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me + this other day, because I was no gentleman born. + See you these clothes? say you see them not and + think me still no gentleman born: you were best say + these robes are not gentlemen born: give me the + lie, do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born. + +AUTOLYCUS I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born. + +Clown Ay, and have been so any time these four hours. + +Shepherd And so have I, boy. + +Clown So you have: but I was a gentleman born before my + father; for the king's son took me by the hand, and + called me brother; and then the two kings called my + father brother; and then the prince my brother and + the princess my sister called my father father; and + so we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like + tears that ever we shed. + +Shepherd We may live, son, to shed many more. + +Clown Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so + preposterous estate as we are. + +AUTOLYCUS I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the + faults I have committed to your worship and to give + me your good report to the prince my master. + +Shepherd Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are + gentlemen. + +Clown Thou wilt amend thy life? + +AUTOLYCUS Ay, an it like your good worship. + +Clown Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince thou + art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia. + +Shepherd You may say it, but not swear it. + +Clown Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? Let boors and + franklins say it, I'll swear it. + +Shepherd How if it be false, son? + +Clown If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear + it in the behalf of his friend: and I'll swear to + the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands and + that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know thou art no + tall fellow of thy hands and that thou wilt be + drunk: but I'll swear it, and I would thou wouldst + be a tall fellow of thy hands. + +AUTOLYCUS I will prove so, sir, to my power. + +Clown Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: if I do not + wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not + being a tall fellow, trust me not. Hark! the kings + and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the + queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy + good masters. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + THE WINTER'S TALE + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III A chapel in PAULINA'S house. + + + [Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PERDITA, + CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and Attendants] + +LEONTES O grave and good Paulina, the great comfort + That I have had of thee! + +PAULINA What, sovereign sir, + I did not well I meant well. All my services + You have paid home: but that you have vouchsafed, + With your crown'd brother and these your contracted + Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, + It is a surplus of your grace, which never + My life may last to answer. + +LEONTES O Paulina, + We honour you with trouble: but we came + To see the statue of our queen: your gallery + Have we pass'd through, not without much content + In many singularities; but we saw not + That which my daughter came to look upon, + The statue of her mother. + +PAULINA As she lived peerless, + So her dead likeness, I do well believe, + Excels whatever yet you look'd upon + Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it + Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare + To see the life as lively mock'd as ever + Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis well. + + [PAULINA draws a curtain, and discovers HERMIONE + standing like a statue] + + I like your silence, it the more shows off + Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege, + Comes it not something near? + +LEONTES Her natural posture! + Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed + Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she + In thy not chiding, for she was as tender + As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, + Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing + So aged as this seems. + +POLIXENES O, not by much. + +PAULINA So much the more our carver's excellence; + Which lets go by some sixteen years and makes her + As she lived now. + +LEONTES As now she might have done, + So much to my good comfort, as it is + Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood, + Even with such life of majesty, warm life, + As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her! + I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me + For being more stone than it? O royal piece, + There's magic in thy majesty, which has + My evils conjured to remembrance and + From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, + Standing like stone with thee. + +PERDITA And give me leave, + And do not say 'tis superstition, that + I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, + Dear queen, that ended when I but began, + Give me that hand of yours to kiss. + +PAULINA O, patience! + The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry. + +CAMILLO My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, + Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, + So many summers dry; scarce any joy + Did ever so long live; no sorrow + But kill'd itself much sooner. + +POLIXENES Dear my brother, + Let him that was the cause of this have power + To take off so much grief from you as he + Will piece up in himself. + +PAULINA Indeed, my lord, + If I had thought the sight of my poor image + Would thus have wrought you,--for the stone is mine-- + I'ld not have show'd it. + +LEONTES Do not draw the curtain. + +PAULINA No longer shall you gaze on't, lest your fancy + May think anon it moves. + +LEONTES Let be, let be. + Would I were dead, but that, methinks, already-- + What was he that did make it? See, my lord, + Would you not deem it breathed? and that those veins + Did verily bear blood? + +POLIXENES Masterly done: + The very life seems warm upon her lip. + +LEONTES The fixture of her eye has motion in't, + As we are mock'd with art. + +PAULINA I'll draw the curtain: + My lord's almost so far transported that + He'll think anon it lives. + +LEONTES O sweet Paulina, + Make me to think so twenty years together! + No settled senses of the world can match + The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone. + +PAULINA I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you: but + I could afflict you farther. + +LEONTES Do, Paulina; + For this affliction has a taste as sweet + As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks, + There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel + Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, + For I will kiss her. + +PAULINA Good my lord, forbear: + The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; + You'll mar it if you kiss it, stain your own + With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? + +LEONTES No, not these twenty years. + +PERDITA So long could I + Stand by, a looker on. + +PAULINA Either forbear, + Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you + For more amazement. If you can behold it, + I'll make the statue move indeed, descend + And take you by the hand; but then you'll think-- + Which I protest against--I am assisted + By wicked powers. + +LEONTES What you can make her do, + I am content to look on: what to speak, + I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy + To make her speak as move. + +PAULINA It is required + You do awake your faith. Then all stand still; + On: those that think it is unlawful business + I am about, let them depart. + +LEONTES Proceed: + No foot shall stir. + +PAULINA Music, awake her; strike! + + [Music] + + 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more; approach; + Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come, + I'll fill your grave up: stir, nay, come away, + Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him + Dear life redeems you. You perceive she stirs: + + [HERMIONE comes down] + + Start not; her actions shall be holy as + You hear my spell is lawful: do not shun her + Until you see her die again; for then + You kill her double. Nay, present your hand: + When she was young you woo'd her; now in age + Is she become the suitor? + +LEONTES O, she's warm! + If this be magic, let it be an art + Lawful as eating. + +POLIXENES She embraces him. + +CAMILLO She hangs about his neck: + If she pertain to life let her speak too. + +POLIXENES Ay, and make't manifest where she has lived, + Or how stolen from the dead. + +PAULINA That she is living, + Were it but told you, should be hooted at + Like an old tale: but it appears she lives, + Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. + Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel + And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good lady; + Our Perdita is found. + +HERMIONE You gods, look down + And from your sacred vials pour your graces + Upon my daughter's head! Tell me, mine own. + Where hast thou been preserved? where lived? how found + Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear that I, + Knowing by Paulina that the oracle + Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserved + Myself to see the issue. + +PAULINA There's time enough for that; + Lest they desire upon this push to trouble + Your joys with like relation. Go together, + You precious winners all; your exultation + Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, + Will wing me to some wither'd bough and there + My mate, that's never to be found again, + Lament till I am lost. + +LEONTES O, peace, Paulina! + Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, + As I by thine a wife: this is a match, + And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine; + But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her, + As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many + A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far-- + For him, I partly know his mind--to find thee + An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, + And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty + Is richly noted and here justified + By us, a pair of kings. Let's from this place. + What! look upon my brother: both your pardons, + That e'er I put between your holy looks + My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law, + And son unto the king, who, heavens directing, + Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, + Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely + Each one demand an answer to his part + Perform'd in this wide gap of time since first + We were dissever'd: hastily lead away. + + [Exeunt] + 1 KING HENRY IV + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING HENRY the Fourth. (KING HENRY IV:) + + +HENRY, +Prince of Wales (PRINCE HENRY:) | + | sons of the King +JOHN of Lancaster (LANCASTER:) | + + +WESTMORELAND: + +SIR WALTER BLUNT: + +THOMAS PERCY Earl of Worcester. (EARL OF WORCESTER:) + +HENRY PERCY Earl of Northumberland. (NORTHUMBERLAND:) + +HENRY PERCY surnamed HOTSPUR, his son. (HOTSPUR:) + +EDMUND MORTIMER Earl of March. (MORTIMER:) + +RICHARD SCROOP Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:) + +ARCHIBALD Earl of Douglas. (DOUGLAS:) + +OWEN GLENDOWER: + +SIR RICHARD VERNON (VERNON:) + +SIR JOHN FALSTAFF (FALSTAFF:) + +SIR MICHAEL a friend to the Archbishop of York. + +POINS: + +GADSHILL: + +PETO: + +BARDOLPH: + +FRANCIS a waiter. + +LADY PERCY wife to Hotspur, and sister to Mortimer. + +LADY MORTIMER daughter to Glendower, + and wife to Mortimer. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. (Hostess:) + + Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, + Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, Attendants, + and an Ostler. + (Sheriff:) + (Vintner:) + (Chamberlain:) + (First Carrier:) + (Second Carrier:) + (First Traveller:) + (Servant:) + (Messenger:) + (Ostler:) + + + +SCENE England. + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. The palace. + + + [Enter KING HENRY, LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER, the EARL + of WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER BLUNT, and others] + +KING HENRY IV So shaken as we are, so wan with care, + Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, + And breathe short-winded accents of new broils + To be commenced in strands afar remote. + No more the thirsty entrance of this soil + Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; + Nor more shall trenching war channel her fields, + Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs + Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, + Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, + All of one nature, of one substance bred, + Did lately meet in the intestine shock + And furious close of civil butchery + Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, + March all one way and be no more opposed + Against acquaintance, kindred and allies: + The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, + No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, + As far as to the sepulchre of Christ, + Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross + We are impressed and engaged to fight, + Forthwith a power of English shall we levy; + Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb + To chase these pagans in those holy fields + Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet + Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd + For our advantage on the bitter cross. + But this our purpose now is twelve month old, + And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go: + Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear + Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, + What yesternight our council did decree + In forwarding this dear expedience. + +WESTMORELAND My liege, this haste was hot in question, + And many limits of the charge set down + But yesternight: when all athwart there came + A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; + Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, + Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight + Against the irregular and wild Glendower, + Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, + A thousand of his people butchered; + Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse, + Such beastly shameless transformation, + By those Welshwomen done as may not be + Without much shame retold or spoken of. + +KING HENRY IV It seems then that the tidings of this broil + Brake off our business for the Holy Land. + +WESTMORELAND This match'd with other did, my gracious lord; + For more uneven and unwelcome news + Came from the north and thus it did import: + On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, + Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald, + That ever-valiant and approved Scot, + At Holmedon met, + Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour, + As by discharge of their artillery, + And shape of likelihood, the news was told; + For he that brought them, in the very heat + And pride of their contention did take horse, + Uncertain of the issue any way. + +KING HENRY IV Here is a dear, a true industrious friend, + Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse. + Stain'd with the variation of each soil + Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; + And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. + The Earl of Douglas is discomfited: + Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, + Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see + On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took + Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son + To beaten Douglas; and the Earl of Athol, + Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith: + And is not this an honourable spoil? + A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? + +WESTMORELAND In faith, + It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. + +KING HENRY IV Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin + In envy that my Lord Northumberland + Should be the father to so blest a son, + A son who is the theme of honour's tongue; + Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant; + Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride: + Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, + See riot and dishonour stain the brow + Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved + That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged + In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, + And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet! + Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. + But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, + Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, + Which he in this adventure hath surprised, + To his own use he keeps; and sends me word, + I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife. + +WESTMORELAND This is his uncle's teaching; this is Worcester, + Malevolent to you in all aspects; + Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up + The crest of youth against your dignity. + +KING HENRY IV But I have sent for him to answer this; + And for this cause awhile we must neglect + Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. + Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we + Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords: + But come yourself with speed to us again; + For more is to be said and to be done + Than out of anger can be uttered. + +WESTMORELAND I will, my liege. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II London. An apartment of the Prince's. + + + [Enter the PRINCE OF WALES and FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? + +PRINCE HENRY Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack + and unbuttoning thee after supper and sleeping upon + benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to + demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. + What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the + day? Unless hours were cups of sack and minutes + capons and clocks the tongues of bawds and dials the + signs of leaping-houses and the blessed sun himself + a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta, I see no + reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand + the time of the day. + +FALSTAFF Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take + purses go by the moon and the seven stars, and not + by Phoebus, he,'that wandering knight so fair.' And, + I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king, as, God + save thy grace,--majesty I should say, for grace + thou wilt have none,-- + +PRINCE HENRY What, none? + +FALSTAFF No, by my troth, not so much as will serve to + prologue to an egg and butter. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. + +FALSTAFF Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not + us that are squires of the night's body be called + thieves of the day's beauty: let us be Diana's + foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the + moon; and let men say we be men of good government, + being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and + chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal. + +PRINCE HENRY Thou sayest well, and it holds well too; for the + fortune of us that are the moon's men doth ebb and + flow like the sea, being governed, as the sea is, + by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold + most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most + dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with + swearing 'Lay by' and spent with crying 'Bring in;' + now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder + and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. + +FALSTAFF By the Lord, thou sayest true, lad. And is not my + hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? + +PRINCE HENRY As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And + is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance? + +FALSTAFF How now, how now, mad wag! what, in thy quips and + thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a + buff jerkin? + +PRINCE HENRY Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern? + +FALSTAFF Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a + time and oft. + +PRINCE HENRY Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? + +FALSTAFF No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there. + +PRINCE HENRY Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; + and where it would not, I have used my credit. + +FALSTAFF Yea, and so used it that were it not here apparent + that thou art heir apparent--But, I prithee, sweet + wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when + thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is + with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do + not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. + +PRINCE HENRY No; thou shalt. + +FALSTAFF Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge. + +PRINCE HENRY Thou judgest false already: I mean, thou shalt have + the hanging of the thieves and so become a rare hangman. + +FALSTAFF Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my + humour as well as waiting in the court, I can tell + you. + +PRINCE HENRY For obtaining of suits? + +FALSTAFF Yea, for obtaining of suits, whereof the hangman + hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy + as a gib cat or a lugged bear. + +PRINCE HENRY Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. + +FALSTAFF Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. + +PRINCE HENRY What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of + Moor-ditch? + +FALSTAFF Thou hast the most unsavoury similes and art indeed + the most comparative, rascalliest, sweet young + prince. But, Hal, I prithee, trouble me no more + with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a + commodity of good names were to be bought. An old + lord of the council rated me the other day in the + street about you, sir, but I marked him not; and yet + he talked very wisely, but I regarded him not; and + yet he talked wisely, and in the street too. + +PRINCE HENRY Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the + streets, and no man regards it. + +FALSTAFF O, thou hast damnable iteration and art indeed able + to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon + me, Hal; God forgive thee for it! Before I knew + thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man + should speak truly, little better than one of the + wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give + it over: by the Lord, and I do not, I am a villain: + I'll be damned for never a king's son in + Christendom. + +PRINCE HENRY Where shall we take a purse tomorrow, Jack? + +FALSTAFF 'Zounds, where thou wilt, lad; I'll make one; an I + do not, call me villain and baffle me. + +PRINCE HENRY I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying + to purse-taking. + +FALSTAFF Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a + man to labour in his vocation. + + [Enter POINS] + + Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a + match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what + hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the + most omnipotent villain that ever cried 'Stand' to + a true man. + +PRINCE HENRY Good morrow, Ned. + +POINS Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? + what says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack! how + agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou + soldest him on Good-Friday last for a cup of Madeira + and a cold capon's leg? + +PRINCE HENRY Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have + his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of + proverbs: he will give the devil his due. + +POINS Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil. + +PRINCE HENRY Else he had been damned for cozening the devil. + +POINS But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four + o'clock, early at Gadshill! there are pilgrims going + to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders + riding to London with fat purses: I have vizards + for you all; you have horses for yourselves: + Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester: I have bespoke + supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap: we may do it + as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff + your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry + at home and be hanged. + +FALSTAFF Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, + I'll hang you for going. + +POINS You will, chops? + +FALSTAFF Hal, wilt thou make one? + +PRINCE HENRY Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. + +FALSTAFF There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good + fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood + royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings. + +PRINCE HENRY Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap. + +FALSTAFF Why, that's well said. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. + +FALSTAFF By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king. + +PRINCE HENRY I care not. + +POINS Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince and me alone: + I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure + that he shall go. + +FALSTAFF Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him + the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may + move and what he hears may be believed, that the + true prince may, for recreation sake, prove a false + thief; for the poor abuses of the time want + countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. + +PRINCE HENRY Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer! + + [Exit Falstaff] + +POINS Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us + to-morrow: I have a jest to execute that I cannot + manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto and Gadshill + shall rob those men that we have already waylaid: + yourself and I will not be there; and when they + have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut + this head off from my shoulders. + +PRINCE HENRY How shall we part with them in setting forth? + +POINS Why, we will set forth before or after them, and + appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at + our pleasure to fail, and then will they adventure + upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have + no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them. + +PRINCE HENRY Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our + horses, by our habits and by every other + appointment, to be ourselves. + +POINS Tut! our horses they shall not see: I'll tie them + in the wood; our vizards we will change after we + leave them: and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram + for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments. + +PRINCE HENRY Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us. + +POINS Well, for two of them, I know them to be as + true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the + third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll + forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the + incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will + tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at + least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what + extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this + lies the jest. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things + necessary and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; + there I'll sup. Farewell. + +POINS Farewell, my lord. + + [Exit Poins] + +PRINCE HENRY I know you all, and will awhile uphold + The unyoked humour of your idleness: + Yet herein will I imitate the sun, + Who doth permit the base contagious clouds + To smother up his beauty from the world, + That, when he please again to be himself, + Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, + By breaking through the foul and ugly mists + Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. + If all the year were playing holidays, + To sport would be as tedious as to work; + But when they seldom come, they wish'd for come, + And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. + So, when this loose behavior I throw off + And pay the debt I never promised, + By how much better than my word I am, + By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; + And like bright metal on a sullen ground, + My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, + Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes + Than that which hath no foil to set it off. + I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; + Redeeming time when men think least I will. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III London. The palace. + + + [Enter the KING, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, + SIR WALTER BLUNT, with others] + +KING HENRY IV My blood hath been too cold and temperate, + Unapt to stir at these indignities, + And you have found me; for accordingly + You tread upon my patience: but be sure + I will from henceforth rather be myself, + Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition; + Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, + And therefore lost that title of respect + Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves + The scourge of greatness to be used on it; + And that same greatness too which our own hands + Have holp to make so portly. + +NORTHUMBERLAND My lord.-- + +KING HENRY IV Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see + Danger and disobedience in thine eye: + O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, + And majesty might never yet endure + The moody frontier of a servant brow. + You have good leave to leave us: when we need + Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. + + [Exit Worcester] + + You were about to speak. + + [To North] + +NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, my good lord. + Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, + Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, + Were, as he says, not with such strength denied + As is deliver'd to your majesty: + Either envy, therefore, or misprison + Is guilty of this fault and not my son. + +HOTSPUR My liege, I did deny no prisoners. + But I remember, when the fight was done, + When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, + Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, + Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd, + Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd + Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home; + He was perfumed like a milliner; + And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held + A pouncet-box, which ever and anon + He gave his nose and took't away again; + Who therewith angry, when it next came there, + Took it in snuff; and still he smiled and talk'd, + And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, + He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, + To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse + Betwixt the wind and his nobility. + With many holiday and lady terms + He question'd me; amongst the rest, demanded + My prisoners in your majesty's behalf. + I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, + To be so pester'd with a popinjay, + Out of my grief and my impatience, + Answer'd neglectingly I know not what, + He should or he should not; for he made me mad + To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet + And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman + Of guns and drums and wounds,--God save the mark!-- + And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth + Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; + And that it was great pity, so it was, + This villanous salt-petre should be digg'd + Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, + Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd + So cowardly; and but for these vile guns, + He would himself have been a soldier. + This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, + I answer'd indirectly, as I said; + And I beseech you, let not his report + Come current for an accusation + Betwixt my love and your high majesty. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, + Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said + To such a person and in such a place, + At such a time, with all the rest retold, + May reasonably die and never rise + To do him wrong or any way impeach + What then he said, so he unsay it now. + +KING HENRY IV Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, + But with proviso and exception, + That we at our own charge shall ransom straight + His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; + Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd + The lives of those that he did lead to fight + Against that great magician, damn'd Glendower, + Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March + Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, + Be emptied to redeem a traitor home? + Shall we but treason? and indent with fears, + When they have lost and forfeited themselves? + No, on the barren mountains let him starve; + For I shall never hold that man my friend + Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost + To ransom home revolted Mortimer. + +HOTSPUR Revolted Mortimer! + He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, + But by the chance of war; to prove that true + Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, + Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took + When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, + In single opposition, hand to hand, + He did confound the best part of an hour + In changing hardiment with great Glendower: + Three times they breathed and three times did + they drink, + Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; + Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, + Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds, + And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, + Bloodstained with these valiant combatants. + Never did base and rotten policy + Colour her working with such deadly wounds; + Nor could the noble Mortimer + Receive so many, and all willingly: + Then let not him be slander'd with revolt. + +KING HENRY IV Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him; + He never did encounter with Glendower: + I tell thee, + He durst as well have met the devil alone + As Owen Glendower for an enemy. + Art thou not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth + Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer: + Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, + Or you shall hear in such a kind from me + As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland, + We licence your departure with your son. + Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it. + + [Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and train] + +HOTSPUR An if the devil come and roar for them, + I will not send them: I will after straight + And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, + Albeit I make a hazard of my head. + +NORTHUMBERLAND What, drunk with choler? stay and pause awhile: + Here comes your uncle. + + [Re-enter WORCESTER] + +HOTSPUR Speak of Mortimer! + 'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul + Want mercy, if I do not join with him: + Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, + And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, + But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer + As high in the air as this unthankful king, + As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Who struck this heat up after I was gone? + +HOTSPUR He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; + And when I urged the ransom once again + Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, + And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, + Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. + +EARL OF WORCESTER I cannot blame him: was not he proclaim'd + By Richard that dead is the next of blood? + +NORTHUMBERLAND He was; I heard the proclamation: + And then it was when the unhappy king, + --Whose wrongs in us God pardon!--did set forth + Upon his Irish expedition; + From whence he intercepted did return + To be deposed and shortly murdered. + +EARL OF WORCESTER And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth + Live scandalized and foully spoken of. + +HOTSPUR But soft, I pray you; did King Richard then + Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer + Heir to the crown? + +NORTHUMBERLAND He did; myself did hear it. + +HOTSPUR Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, + That wished him on the barren mountains starve. + But shall it be that you, that set the crown + Upon the head of this forgetful man + And for his sake wear the detested blot + Of murderous subornation, shall it be, + That you a world of curses undergo, + Being the agents, or base second means, + The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? + O, pardon me that I descend so low, + To show the line and the predicament + Wherein you range under this subtle king; + Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, + Or fill up chronicles in time to come, + That men of your nobility and power + Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, + As both of you--God pardon it!--have done, + To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, + An plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke? + And shall it in more shame be further spoken, + That you are fool'd, discarded and shook off + By him for whom these shames ye underwent? + No; yet time serves wherein you may redeem + Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves + Into the good thoughts of the world again, + Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt + Of this proud king, who studies day and night + To answer all the debt he owes to you + Even with the bloody payment of your deaths: + Therefore, I say-- + +EARL OF WORCESTER Peace, cousin, say no more: + And now I will unclasp a secret book, + And to your quick-conceiving discontents + I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, + As full of peril and adventurous spirit + As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud + On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. + +HOTSPUR If he fall in, good night! or sink or swim: + Send danger from the east unto the west, + So honour cross it from the north to south, + And let them grapple: O, the blood more stirs + To rouse a lion than to start a hare! + +NORTHUMBERLAND Imagination of some great exploit + Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. + +HOTSPUR By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, + To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, + Or dive into the bottom of the deep, + Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, + And pluck up drowned honour by the locks; + So he that doth redeem her thence might wear + Without corrival, all her dignities: + But out upon this half-faced fellowship! + +EARL OF WORCESTER He apprehends a world of figures here, + But not the form of what he should attend. + Good cousin, give me audience for a while. + +HOTSPUR I cry you mercy. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Those same noble Scots + That are your prisoners,-- + +HOTSPUR I'll keep them all; + By God, he shall not have a Scot of them; + No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: + I'll keep them, by this hand. + +EARL OF WORCESTER You start away + And lend no ear unto my purposes. + Those prisoners you shall keep. + +HOTSPUR Nay, I will; that's flat: + He said he would not ransom Mortimer; + Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; + But I will find him when he lies asleep, + And in his ear I'll holla 'Mortimer!' + Nay, + I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak + Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him + To keep his anger still in motion. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Hear you, cousin; a word. + +HOTSPUR All studies here I solemnly defy, + Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: + And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales, + But that I think his father loves him not + And would be glad he met with some mischance, + I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Farewell, kinsman: I'll talk to you + When you are better temper'd to attend. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool + Art thou to break into this woman's mood, + Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own! + +HOTSPUR Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods, + Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear + Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. + In Richard's time,--what do you call the place?-- + A plague upon it, it is in Gloucestershire; + 'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept, + His uncle York; where I first bow'd my knee + Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,-- + 'Sblood!-- + When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh. + +NORTHUMBERLAND At Berkley castle. + +HOTSPUR You say true: + Why, what a candy deal of courtesy + This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! + Look,'when his infant fortune came to age,' + And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin;' + O, the devil take such cozeners! God forgive me! + Good uncle, tell your tale; I have done. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Nay, if you have not, to it again; + We will stay your leisure. + +HOTSPUR I have done, i' faith. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. + Deliver them up without their ransom straight, + And make the Douglas' son your only mean + For powers in Scotland; which, for divers reasons + Which I shall send you written, be assured, + Will easily be granted. You, my lord, + + [To Northumberland] + + Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, + Shall secretly into the bosom creep + Of that same noble prelate, well beloved, + The archbishop. + +HOTSPUR Of York, is it not? + +EARL OF WORCESTER True; who bears hard + His brother's death at Bristol, the Lord Scroop. + I speak not this in estimation, + As what I think might be, but what I know + Is ruminated, plotted and set down, + And only stays but to behold the face + Of that occasion that shall bring it on. + +HOTSPUR I smell it: upon my life, it will do well. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Before the game is afoot, thou still let'st slip. + +HOTSPUR Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot; + And then the power of Scotland and of York, + To join with Mortimer, ha? + +EARL OF WORCESTER And so they shall. + +HOTSPUR In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. + +EARL OF WORCESTER And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, + To save our heads by raising of a head; + For, bear ourselves as even as we can, + The king will always think him in our debt, + And think we think ourselves unsatisfied, + Till he hath found a time to pay us home: + And see already how he doth begin + To make us strangers to his looks of love. + +HOTSPUR He does, he does: we'll be revenged on him. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Cousin, farewell: no further go in this + Than I by letters shall direct your course. + When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, + I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer; + Where you and Douglas and our powers at once, + As I will fashion it, shall happily meet, + To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, + Which now we hold at much uncertainty. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust. + +HOTSPUR Uncle, Adieu: O, let the hours be short + Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Rochester. An inn yard. + + + [Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand] + +First Carrier Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be + hanged: Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and + yet our horse not packed. What, ostler! + +Ostler [Within] Anon, anon. + +First Carrier I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks + in the point; poor jade, is wrung in the withers out + of all cess. + + [Enter another Carrier] + +Second Carrier Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that + is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this + house is turned upside down since Robin Ostler died. + +First Carrier Poor fellow, never joyed since the price of oats + rose; it was the death of him. + +Second Carrier I think this be the most villanous house in all + London road for fleas: I am stung like a tench. + +First Carrier Like a tench! by the mass, there is ne'er a king + christen could be better bit than I have been since + the first cock. + +Second Carrier Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we + leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds + fleas like a loach. + +First Carrier What, ostler! come away and be hanged! + +Second Carrier I have a gammon of bacon and two razors of ginger, + to be delivered as far as Charing-cross. + +First Carrier God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite + starved. What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou + never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? An + 'twere not as good deed as drink, to break the pate + on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be hanged! + hast thou no faith in thee? + + [Enter GADSHILL] + +GADSHILL Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock? + +First Carrier I think it be two o'clock. + +GADSHILL I pray thee lend me thy lantern, to see my gelding + in the stable. + +First Carrier Nay, by God, soft; I know a trick worth two of that, i' faith. + +GADSHILL I pray thee, lend me thine. + +Second Carrier Ay, when? can'st tell? Lend me thy lantern, quoth + he? marry, I'll see thee hanged first. + +GADSHILL Sirrah carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? + +Second Carrier Time enough to go to bed with a candle, I warrant + thee. Come, neighbour Mugs, we'll call up the + gentleman: they will along with company, for they + have great charge. + + [Exeunt carriers] + +GADSHILL What, ho! chamberlain! + +Chamberlain [Within] At hand, quoth pick-purse. + +GADSHILL That's even as fair as--at hand, quoth the + chamberlain; for thou variest no more from picking + of purses than giving direction doth from labouring; + thou layest the plot how. + + [Enter Chamberlain] + +Chamberlain Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that + I told you yesternight: there's a franklin in the + wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with + him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his + company last night at supper; a kind of auditor; one + that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. + They are up already, and call for eggs and butter; + they will away presently. + +GADSHILL Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas' + clerks, I'll give thee this neck. + +Chamberlain No, I'll none of it: I pray thee keep that for the + hangman; for I know thou worshippest St. Nicholas + as truly as a man of falsehood may. + +GADSHILL What talkest thou to me of the hangman? if I hang, + I'll make a fat pair of gallows; for if I hang, old + Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no + starveling. Tut! there are other Trojans that thou + dreamest not of, the which for sport sake are + content to do the profession some grace; that would, + if matters should be looked into, for their own + credit sake, make all whole. I am joined with no + foot-land rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, + none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms; + but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and + great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will + strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than + drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet, zounds, + I lie; for they pray continually to their saint, the + commonwealth; or rather, not pray to her, but prey + on her, for they ride up and down on her and make + her their boots. + +Chamberlain What, the commonwealth their boots? will she hold + out water in foul way? + +GADSHILL She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We + steal as in a castle, cocksure; we have the receipt + of fern-seed, we walk invisible. + +Chamberlain Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to + the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible. + +GADSHILL Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our + purchase, as I am a true man. + +Chamberlain Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. + +GADSHILL Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the + ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, + you muddy knave. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The highway, near Gadshill. + + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] + +POINS Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's + horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. + +PRINCE HENRY Stand close. + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! + +PRINCE HENRY Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a brawling dost + thou keep! + +FALSTAFF Where's Poins, Hal? + +PRINCE HENRY He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him. + +FALSTAFF I am accursed to rob in that thief's company: the + rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know + not where. If I travel but four foot by the squier + further afoot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt + not but to die a fair death for all this, if I + 'scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have + forsworn his company hourly any time this two and + twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with the + rogue's company. If the rascal hath not given me + medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; it + could not be else: I have drunk medicines. Poins! + Hal! a plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! + I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere + not as good a deed as drink, to turn true man and to + leave these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that + ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of uneven + ground is threescore and ten miles afoot with me; + and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough: + a plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another! + + [They whistle] + + Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you + rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged! + +PRINCE HENRY Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close + to the ground and list if thou canst hear the tread + of travellers. + +FALSTAFF Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? + 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot + again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. + What a plague mean ye to colt me thus? + + +PRINCE HENRY Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. + +FALSTAFF I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, + good king's son. + +PRINCE HENRY Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler? + +FALSTAFF Go, hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent + garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I + have not ballads made on you all and sung to filthy + tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison: when a jest + is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it. + + [Enter GADSHILL, BARDOLPH and PETO] + +GADSHILL Stand. + +FALSTAFF So I do, against my will. + +POINS O, 'tis our setter: I know his voice. Bardolph, + what news? + +BARDOLPH Case ye, case ye; on with your vizards: there 's + money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going + to the king's exchequer. + +FALSTAFF You lie, ye rogue; 'tis going to the king's tavern. + +GADSHILL There's enough to make us all. + +FALSTAFF To be hanged. + +PRINCE HENRY Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane; + Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape + from your encounter, then they light on us. + +PETO How many be there of them? + +GADSHILL Some eight or ten. + +FALSTAFF 'Zounds, will they not rob us? + +PRINCE HENRY What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? + +FALSTAFF Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; + but yet no coward, Hal. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, we leave that to the proof. + +POINS Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge: + when thou needest him, there thou shalt find him. + Farewell, and stand fast. + +FALSTAFF Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged. + +PRINCE HENRY Ned, where are our disguises? + +POINS Here, hard by: stand close. + + [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY and POINS] + +FALSTAFF Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I: + every man to his business. + + [Enter the Travellers] + +First Traveller Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our horses down + the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease our legs. + +Thieves Stand! + +Travellers Jesus bless us! + +FALSTAFF Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats: + ah! whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they + hate us youth: down with them: fleece them. + +Travellers O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever! + +FALSTAFF Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, are ye undone? No, ye + fat chuffs: I would your store were here! On, + bacons, on! What, ye knaves! young men must live. + You are Grand-jurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, 'faith. + + [Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt] + + [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] + +PRINCE HENRY The thieves have bound the true men. Now could thou + and I rob the thieves and go merrily to London, it + would be argument for a week, laughter for a month + and a good jest for ever. + +POINS Stand close; I hear them coming. + + [Enter the Thieves again] + +FALSTAFF Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse + before day. An the Prince and Poins be not two + arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's + no more valour in that Poins than in a wild-duck. + +PRINCE HENRY Your money! + +POINS Villains! + + [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon + them; they all run away; and Falstaff, after a blow + or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them] + +PRINCE HENRY Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse: + The thieves are all scatter'd and possess'd with fear + So strongly that they dare not meet each other; + Each takes his fellow for an officer. + Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, + And lards the lean earth as he walks along: + Were 't not for laughing, I should pity him. + +POINS How the rogue roar'd! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Warkworth castle + + + [Enter HOTSPUR, solus, reading a letter] + +HOTSPUR 'But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well + contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear + your house.' He could be contented: why is he not, + then? In respect of the love he bears our house: + he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than + he loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The + purpose you undertake is dangerous;'--why, that's + certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to + drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this + nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 'The + purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you + have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and + your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so + great an opposition.' Say you so, say you so? I say + unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and + you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, + our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our + friends true and constant: a good plot, good + friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, + very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is + this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the + general course of action. 'Zounds, an I were now by + this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. + Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord + Edmund Mortimer, My lord of York and Owen Glendower? + is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all + their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the + next month? and are they not some of them set + forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an + infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity + of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay + open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself + and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of + skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! + let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set + forward to-night. + + [Enter LADY PERCY] + + How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours. + +LADY PERCY O, my good lord, why are you thus alone? + For what offence have I this fortnight been + A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? + Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee + Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? + Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, + And start so often when thou sit'st alone? + Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; + And given my treasures and my rights of thee + To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy? + In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd, + And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars; + Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed; + Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd + Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, + Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, + Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin, + Of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers slain, + And all the currents of a heady fight. + Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war + And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, + That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow + Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream; + And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, + Such as we see when men restrain their breath + On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? + Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, + And I must know it, else he loves me not. + +HOTSPUR What, ho! + + [Enter Servant] + + Is Gilliams with the packet gone? + +Servant He is, my lord, an hour ago. + + +HOTSPUR Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff? + +Servant One horse, my lord, he brought even now. + +HOTSPUR What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? + +Servant It is, my lord. + +HOTSPUR That roan shall by my throne. + Well, I will back him straight: O esperance! + Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. + + [Exit Servant] + +LADY PERCY But hear you, my lord. + +HOTSPUR What say'st thou, my lady? + +LADY PERCY What is it carries you away? + +HOTSPUR Why, my horse, my love, my horse. + +LADY PERCY Out, you mad-headed ape! + A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen + As you are toss'd with. In faith, + I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. + I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir + About his title, and hath sent for you + To line his enterprise: but if you go,-- + +HOTSPUR So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. + +LADY PERCY Come, come, you paraquito, answer me + Directly unto this question that I ask: + In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, + An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. + +HOTSPUR Away, + Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, + I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world + To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: + We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns, + And pass them current too. God's me, my horse! + What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou + have with me? + +LADY PERCY Do you not love me? do you not, indeed? + Well, do not then; for since you love me not, + I will not love myself. Do you not love me? + Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no. + +HOTSPUR Come, wilt thou see me ride? + And when I am on horseback, I will swear + I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate; + I must not have you henceforth question me + Whither I go, nor reason whereabout: + Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude, + This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. + I know you wise, but yet no farther wise + Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are, + But yet a woman: and for secrecy, + No lady closer; for I well believe + Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; + And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate. + +LADY PERCY How! so far? + +HOTSPUR Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate: + Whither I go, thither shall you go too; + To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. + Will this content you, Kate? + +LADY PERCY It must of force. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV The Boar's-Head Tavern, Eastcheap. + + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] + +PRINCE HENRY Ned, prithee, come out of that fat room, and lend me + thy hand to laugh a little. + +POINS Where hast been, Hal? + +PRINCE HENRY With three or four loggerheads amongst three or four + score hogsheads. I have sounded the very + base-string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother + to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by + their christen names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. + They take it already upon their salvation, that + though I be but the prince of Wales, yet I am king + of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, + like Falstaff, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a + good boy, by the Lord, so they call me, and when I + am king of England, I shall command all the good + lads in Eastcheap. They call drinking deep, dyeing + scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they + cry 'hem!' and bid you play it off. To conclude, I + am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, + that I can drink with any tinker in his own language + during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost + much honour, that thou wert not with me in this sweet + action. But, sweet Ned,--to sweeten which name of + Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped + even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that + never spake other English in his life than 'Eight + shillings and sixpence' and 'You are welcome,' with + this shrill addition, 'Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint + of bastard in the Half-Moon,' or so. But, Ned, to + drive away the time till Falstaff come, I prithee, + do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my + puny drawer to what end he gave me the sugar; and do + thou never leave calling 'Francis,' that his tale + to me may be nothing but 'Anon.' Step aside, and + I'll show thee a precedent. + +POINS Francis! + +PRINCE HENRY Thou art perfect. + +POINS Francis! + + [Exit POINS] + + [Enter FRANCIS] + +FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. Look down into the Pomgarnet, Ralph. + +PRINCE HENRY Come hither, Francis. + +FRANCIS My lord? + +PRINCE HENRY How long hast thou to serve, Francis? + +FRANCIS Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-- + +POINS [Within] Francis! + +FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. + +PRINCE HENRY Five year! by'r lady, a long lease for the clinking + of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant + as to play the coward with thy indenture and show it + a fair pair of heels and run from it? + +FRANCIS O Lord, sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in + England, I could find in my heart. + +POINS [Within] Francis! + +FRANCIS Anon, sir. + +PRINCE HENRY How old art thou, Francis? + +FRANCIS Let me see--about Michaelmas next I shall be-- + +POINS [Within] Francis! + +FRANCIS Anon, sir. Pray stay a little, my lord. + +PRINCE HENRY Nay, but hark you, Francis: for the sugar thou + gavest me,'twas a pennyworth, wast't not? + +FRANCIS O Lord, I would it had been two! + +PRINCE HENRY I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me + when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. + +POINS [Within] Francis! + +FRANCIS Anon, anon. + +PRINCE HENRY Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; + or, Francis, o' Thursday; or indeed, Francis, when + thou wilt. But, Francis! + +FRANCIS My lord? + +PRINCE HENRY Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, crystal-button, + not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, + smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,-- + +FRANCIS O Lord, sir, who do you mean? + +PRINCE HENRY Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink; + for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet + will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much. + +FRANCIS What, sir? + +POINS [Within] Francis! + +PRINCE HENRY Away, you rogue! dost thou not hear them call? + + [Here they both call him; the drawer stands amazed, + not knowing which way to go] + + [Enter Vintner] + +Vintner What, standest thou still, and hearest such a + calling? Look to the guests within. + + [Exit Francis] + + My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, are + at the door: shall I let them in? + +PRINCE HENRY Let them alone awhile, and then open the door. + + [Exit Vintner] + Poins! + + [Re-enter POINS] + +POINS Anon, anon, sir. + +PRINCE HENRY Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at + the door: shall we be merry? + +POINS As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; what + cunning match have you made with this jest of the + drawer? come, what's the issue? + +PRINCE HENRY I am now of all humours that have showed themselves + humours since the old days of goodman Adam to the + pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. + + [Re-enter FRANCIS] + + What's o'clock, Francis? + +FRANCIS Anon, anon, sir. + + [Exit] + +PRINCE HENRY That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a + parrot, and yet the son of a woman! His industry is + upstairs and downstairs; his eloquence the parcel of + a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the + Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some six or + seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his + hands, and says to his wife 'Fie upon this quiet + life! I want work.' 'O my sweet Harry,' says she, + 'how many hast thou killed to-day?' 'Give my roan + horse a drench,' says he; and answers 'Some + fourteen,' an hour after; 'a trifle, a trifle.' I + prithee, call in Falstaff: I'll play Percy, and + that damned brawn shall play Dame Mortimer his + wife. 'Rivo!' says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. + + [Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, and PETO; + FRANCIS following with wine] + +POINS Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been? + +FALSTAFF A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! + marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I + lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks and mend + them and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! + Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? + + [He drinks] + +PRINCE HENRY Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? + pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale + of the sun's! if thou didst, then behold that compound. + +FALSTAFF You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: there is + nothing but roguery to be found in villanous man: + yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime + in it. A villanous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; + die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be + not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a + shotten herring. There live not three good men + unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and + grows old: God help the while! a bad world, I say. + I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or any + thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still. + +PRINCE HENRY How now, wool-sack! what mutter you? + +FALSTAFF A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy + kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy + subjects afore thee like a flock of wild-geese, + I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales! + +PRINCE HENRY Why, you whoreson round man, what's the matter? + +FALSTAFF Are not you a coward? answer me to that: and Poins there? + +POINS 'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, by the + Lord, I'll stab thee. + +FALSTAFF I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned ere I call + thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I + could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight + enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your + back: call you that backing of your friends? A + plague upon such backing! give me them that will + face me. Give me a cup of sack: I am a rogue, if I + drunk to-day. + +PRINCE HENRY O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou + drunkest last. + +FALSTAFF All's one for that. + + [He drinks] + + A plague of all cowards, still say I. + +PRINCE HENRY What's the matter? + +FALSTAFF What's the matter! there be four of us here have + ta'en a thousand pound this day morning. + +PRINCE HENRY Where is it, Jack? where is it? + +FALSTAFF Where is it! taken from us it is: a hundred upon + poor four of us. + +PRINCE HENRY What, a hundred, man? + +FALSTAFF I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a + dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by + miracle. I am eight times thrust through the + doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut + through and through; my sword hacked like a + hand-saw--ecce signum! I never dealt better since + I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all + cowards! Let them speak: if they speak more or + less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. + +PRINCE HENRY Speak, sirs; how was it? + +GADSHILL We four set upon some dozen-- + +FALSTAFF Sixteen at least, my lord. + +GADSHILL And bound them. + +PETO No, no, they were not bound. + +FALSTAFF You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I + am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. + +GADSHILL As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us-- + +FALSTAFF And unbound the rest, and then come in the other. + +PRINCE HENRY What, fought you with them all? + +FALSTAFF All! I know not what you call all; but if I fought + not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish: if + there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old + Jack, then am I no two-legged creature. + +PRINCE HENRY Pray God you have not murdered some of them. + +FALSTAFF Nay, that's past praying for: I have peppered two + of them; two I am sure I have paid, two rogues + in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell + thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou + knowest my old ward; here I lay and thus I bore my + point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me-- + +PRINCE HENRY What, four? thou saidst but two even now. + +FALSTAFF Four, Hal; I told thee four. + +POINS Ay, ay, he said four. + +FALSTAFF These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at + me. I made me no more ado but took all their seven + points in my target, thus. + +PRINCE HENRY Seven? why, there were but four even now. + +FALSTAFF In buckram? + +POINS Ay, four, in buckram suits. + +FALSTAFF Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. + +PRINCE HENRY Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon. + +FALSTAFF Dost thou hear me, Hal? + +PRINCE HENRY Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. + +FALSTAFF Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine + in buckram that I told thee of-- + +PRINCE HENRY So, two more already. + +FALSTAFF Their points being broken,-- + +POINS Down fell their hose. + +FALSTAFF Began to give me ground: but I followed me close, + came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of + the eleven I paid. + +PRINCE HENRY O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! + +FALSTAFF But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten + knaves in Kendal green came at my back and let drive + at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst + not see thy hand. + +PRINCE HENRY These lies are like their father that begets them; + gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou + clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou + whoreson, obscene, grease tallow-catch,-- + +FALSTAFF What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth + the truth? + +PRINCE HENRY Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal + green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy + hand? come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this? + +POINS Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. + +FALSTAFF What, upon compulsion? 'Zounds, an I were at the + strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would + not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on + compulsion! If reasons were as plentiful as + blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon + compulsion, I. + +PRINCE HENRY I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine + coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, + this huge hill of flesh,-- + +FALSTAFF 'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried + neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O + for breath to utter what is like thee! you + tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile + standing-tuck,-- + +PRINCE HENRY Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again: and + when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, + hear me speak but this. + +POINS Mark, Jack. + +PRINCE HENRY We two saw you four set on four and bound them, and + were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain + tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you + four; and, with a word, out-faced you from your + prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in + the house: and, Falstaff, you carried your guts + away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared + for mercy and still run and roared, as ever I heard + bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword + as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight! + What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst + thou now find out to hide thee from this open and + apparent shame? + +POINS Come, let's hear, Jack; what trick hast thou now? + +FALSTAFF By the Lord, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. + Why, hear you, my masters: was it for me to kill the + heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? + why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but + beware instinct; the lion will not touch the true + prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was now a + coward on instinct. I shall think the better of + myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant + lion, and thou for a true prince. But, by the Lord, + lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap + to the doors: watch to-night, pray to-morrow. + Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles + of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be + merry? shall we have a play extempore? + +PRINCE HENRY Content; and the argument shall be thy running away. + +FALSTAFF Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me! + + [Enter Hostess] + +Hostess O Jesu, my lord the prince! + +PRINCE HENRY How now, my lady the hostess! what sayest thou to + me? + +Hostess Marry, my lord, there is a nobleman of the court at + door would speak with you: he says he comes from + your father. + +PRINCE HENRY Give him as much as will make him a royal man, and + send him back again to my mother. + +FALSTAFF What manner of man is he? + +Hostess An old man. + +FALSTAFF What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? Shall + I give him his answer? + +PRINCE HENRY Prithee, do, Jack. + +FALSTAFF 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. + + [Exit FALSTAFF] + +PRINCE HENRY Now, sirs: by'r lady, you fought fair; so did you, + Peto; so did you, Bardolph: you are lions too, you + ran away upon instinct, you will not touch the true + prince; no, fie! + +BARDOLPH 'Faith, I ran when I saw others run. + +PRINCE HENRY 'Faith, tell me now in earnest, how came Falstaff's + sword so hacked? + +PETO Why, he hacked it with his dagger, and said he would + swear truth out of England but he would make you + believe it was done in fight, and persuaded us to do the like. + +BARDOLPH Yea, and to tickle our noses with spear-grass to + make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments + with it and swear it was the blood of true men. I + did that I did not this seven year before, I blushed + to hear his monstrous devices. + +PRINCE HENRY O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years + ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since + thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and + sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away: what + instinct hadst thou for it? + +BARDOLPH My lord, do you see these meteors? do you behold + these exhalations? + +PRINCE HENRY I do. + +BARDOLPH What think you they portend? + +PRINCE HENRY Hot livers and cold purses. + +BARDOLPH Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. + +PRINCE HENRY No, if rightly taken, halter. + + [Re-enter FALSTAFF] + + Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. + How now, my sweet creature of bombast! + How long is't ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee? + +FALSTAFF My own knee! when I was about thy years, Hal, I was + not an eagle's talon in the waist; I could have + crept into any alderman's thumb-ring: a plague of + sighing and grief! it blows a man up like a + bladder. There's villanous news abroad: here was + Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the + court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the + north, Percy, and he of Wales, that gave Amamon the + bastinado and made Lucifer cuckold and swore the + devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh + hook--what a plague call you him? + +POINS O, Glendower. + +FALSTAFF Owen, Owen, the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, + and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of + Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill + perpendicular,-- + +PRINCE HENRY He that rides at high speed and with his pistol + kills a sparrow flying. + +FALSTAFF You have hit it. + +PRINCE HENRY So did he never the sparrow. + +FALSTAFF Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run. + +PRINCE HENRY Why, what a rascal art thou then, to praise him so + for running! + +FALSTAFF O' horseback, ye cuckoo; but afoot he will not budge a foot. + +PRINCE HENRY Yes, Jack, upon instinct. + +FALSTAFF I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, + and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more: + Worcester is stolen away to-night; thy father's + beard is turned white with the news: you may buy + land now as cheap as stinking mackerel. + +PRINCE HENRY Why, then, it is like, if there come a hot June and + this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads + as they buy hob-nails, by the hundreds. + +FALSTAFF By the mass, lad, thou sayest true; it is like we + shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, + art not thou horrible afeard? thou being + heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three + such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that + spirit Percy, and that devil Glendower? Art thou + not horribly afraid? doth not thy blood thrill at + it? + +PRINCE HENRY Not a whit, i' faith; I lack some of thy instinct. + +FALSTAFF Well, thou wert be horribly chid tomorrow when thou + comest to thy father: if thou love me, practise an answer. + +PRINCE HENRY Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the + particulars of my life. + +FALSTAFF Shall I? content: this chair shall be my state, + this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown. + +PRINCE HENRY Thy state is taken for a joined-stool, thy golden + sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich + crown for a pitiful bald crown! + +FALSTAFF Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, + now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to + make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have + wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it + in King Cambyses' vein. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, here is my leg. + +FALSTAFF And here is my speech. Stand aside, nobility. + +Hostess O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i' faith! + +FALSTAFF Weep not, sweet queen; for trickling tears are vain. + +Hostess O, the father, how he holds his countenance! + +FALSTAFF For God's sake, lords, convey my tristful queen; + For tears do stop the flood-gates of her eyes. + +Hostess O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry + players as ever I see! + +FALSTAFF Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain. + Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy + time, but also how thou art accompanied: for though + the camomile, the more it is trodden on the faster + it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted the + sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I have + partly thy mother's word, partly my own opinion, + but chiefly a villanous trick of thine eye and a + foolish-hanging of thy nether lip, that doth warrant + me. If then thou be son to me, here lies the point; + why, being son to me, art thou so pointed at? Shall + the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher and eat + blackberries? a question not to be asked. Shall + the sun of England prove a thief and take purses? a + question to be asked. There is a thing, Harry, + which thou hast often heard of and it is known to + many in our land by the name of pitch: this pitch, + as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth + the company thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do not + speak to thee in drink but in tears, not in + pleasure but in passion, not in words only, but in + woes also: and yet there is a virtuous man whom I + have often noted in thy company, but I know not his name. + +PRINCE HENRY What manner of man, an it like your majesty? + +FALSTAFF A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent; of a + cheerful look, a pleasing eye and a most noble + carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, + by'r lady, inclining to three score; and now I + remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man + should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, + I see virtue in his looks. If then the tree may be + known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then, + peremptorily I speak it, there is virtue in that + Falstaff: him keep with, the rest banish. And tell + me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast + thou been this month? + +PRINCE HENRY Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, + and I'll play my father. + +FALSTAFF Depose me? if thou dost it half so gravely, so + majestically, both in word and matter, hang me up by + the heels for a rabbit-sucker or a poulter's hare. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, here I am set. + +FALSTAFF And here I stand: judge, my masters. + +PRINCE HENRY Now, Harry, whence come you? + +FALSTAFF My noble lord, from Eastcheap. + +PRINCE HENRY The complaints I hear of thee are grievous. + +FALSTAFF 'Sblood, my lord, they are false: nay, I'll tickle + ye for a young prince, i' faith. + +PRINCE HENRY Swearest thou, ungracious boy? henceforth ne'er look + on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace: + there is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an + old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why + dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that + bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel + of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed + cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with + the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that + grey iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in + years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and + drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a + capon and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft? + wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein villanous, + but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? + +FALSTAFF I would your grace would take me with you: whom + means your grace? + +PRINCE HENRY That villanous abominable misleader of youth, + Falstaff, that old white-bearded Satan. + +FALSTAFF My lord, the man I know. + +PRINCE HENRY I know thou dost. + +FALSTAFF But to say I know more harm in him than in myself, + were to say more than I know. That he is old, the + more the pity, his white hairs do witness it; but + that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster, + that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, + God help the wicked! if to be old and merry be a + sin, then many an old host that I know is damned: if + to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine + are to be loved. No, my good lord; banish Peto, + banish Bardolph, banish Poins: but for sweet Jack + Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, + valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, + being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him + thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's + company: banish plump Jack, and banish all the world. + +PRINCE HENRY I do, I will. + + [A knocking heard] + + [Exeunt Hostess, FRANCIS, and BARDOLPH] + + [Re-enter BARDOLPH, running] + +BARDOLPH O, my lord, my lord! the sheriff with a most + monstrous watch is at the door. + +FALSTAFF Out, ye rogue! Play out the play: I have much to + say in the behalf of that Falstaff. + + [Re-enter the Hostess] + +Hostess O Jesu, my lord, my lord! + +PRINCE HENRY Heigh, heigh! the devil rides upon a fiddlestick: + what's the matter? + +Hostess The sheriff and all the watch are at the door: they + are come to search the house. Shall I let them in? + +FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a true piece of + gold a counterfeit: thou art essentially mad, + without seeming so. + +PRINCE HENRY And thou a natural coward, without instinct. + +FALSTAFF I deny your major: if you will deny the sheriff, + so; if not, let him enter: if I become not a cart + as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up! + I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another. + +PRINCE HENRY Go, hide thee behind the arras: the rest walk up + above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good + conscience. + +FALSTAFF Both which I have had: but their date is out, and + therefore I'll hide me. + +PRINCE HENRY Call in the sheriff. + + [Exeunt all except PRINCE HENRY and PETO] + + [Enter Sheriff and the Carrier] + + Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me? + +Sheriff First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry + Hath follow'd certain men unto this house. + +PRINCE HENRY What men? + +Sheriff One of them is well known, my gracious lord, + A gross fat man. + +Carrier As fat as butter. + +PRINCE HENRY The man, I do assure you, is not here; + For I myself at this time have employ'd him. + And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee + That I will, by to-morrow dinner-time, + Send him to answer thee, or any man, + For any thing he shall be charged withal: + And so let me entreat you leave the house. + +Sheriff I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen + Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks. + +PRINCE HENRY It may be so: if he have robb'd these men, + He shall be answerable; and so farewell. + +Sheriff Good night, my noble lord. + +PRINCE HENRY I think it is good morrow, is it not? + +Sheriff Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o'clock. + + [Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier] + +PRINCE HENRY This oily rascal is known as well as Paul's. Go, + call him forth. + +PETO Falstaff!--Fast asleep behind the arras, and + snorting like a horse. + +PRINCE HENRY Hark, how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets. + + [He searcheth his pockets, and findeth certain papers] + + What hast thou found? + +PETO Nothing but papers, my lord. + +PRINCE HENRY Let's see what they be: read them. + +PETO [Reads] Item, A capon,. . 2s. 2d. + Item, Sauce,. . . 4d. + Item, Sack, two gallons, 5s. 8d. + Item, Anchovies and sack after supper, 2s. 6d. + Item, Bread, ob. + +PRINCE HENRY O monstrous! but one half-penny-worth of bread to + this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, + keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there + let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the + morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place + shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a + charge of foot; and I know his death will be a + march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid + back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in + the morning; and so, good morrow, Peto. + + [Exeunt] + +PETO Good morrow, good my lord. + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Bangor. The Archdeacon's house. + + + [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER] + +MORTIMER These promises are fair, the parties sure, + And our induction full of prosperous hope. + +HOTSPUR Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower, + Will you sit down? + And uncle Worcester: a plague upon it! + I have forgot the map. + +GLENDOWER No, here it is. + Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur, + For by that name as oft as Lancaster + Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and with + A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven. + +HOTSPUR And you in hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. + +GLENDOWER I cannot blame him: at my nativity + The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, + Of burning cressets; and at my birth + The frame and huge foundation of the earth + Shaked like a coward. + +HOTSPUR Why, so it would have done at the same season, if + your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself + had never been born. + +GLENDOWER I say the earth did shake when I was born. + +HOTSPUR And I say the earth was not of my mind, + If you suppose as fearing you it shook. + +GLENDOWER The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble. + +HOTSPUR O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire, + And not in fear of your nativity. + Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth + In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth + Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd + By the imprisoning of unruly wind + Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, + Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down + Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth + Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, + In passion shook. + +GLENDOWER Cousin, of many men + I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave + To tell you once again that at my birth + The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, + The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds + Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. + These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; + And all the courses of my life do show + I am not in the roll of common men. + Where is he living, clipp'd in with the sea + That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, + Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? + And bring him out that is but woman's son + Can trace me in the tedious ways of art + And hold me pace in deep experiments. + +HOTSPUR I think there's no man speaks better Welsh. + I'll to dinner. + +MORTIMER Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. + +GLENDOWER I can call spirits from the vasty deep. + +HOTSPUR Why, so can I, or so can any man; + But will they come when you do call for them? + +GLENDOWER Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command + The devil. + +HOTSPUR And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil + By telling truth: tell truth and shame the devil. + If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, + And I'll be sworn I have power to shame him hence. + O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil! + +MORTIMER Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat. + +GLENDOWER Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head + Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye + And sandy-bottom'd Severn have I sent him + Bootless home and weather-beaten back. + +HOTSPUR Home without boots, and in foul weather too! + How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? + +GLENDOWER Come, here's the map: shall we divide our right + According to our threefold order ta'en? + +MORTIMER The archdeacon hath divided it + Into three limits very equally: + England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, + By south and east is to my part assign'd: + All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore, + And all the fertile land within that bound, + To Owen Glendower: and, dear coz, to you + The remnant northward, lying off from Trent. + And our indentures tripartite are drawn; + Which being sealed interchangeably, + A business that this night may execute, + To-morrow, cousin Percy, you and I + And my good Lord of Worcester will set forth + To meet your father and the Scottish power, + As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. + My father Glendower is not ready yet, + Not shall we need his help these fourteen days. + Within that space you may have drawn together + Your tenants, friends and neighbouring gentlemen. + +GLENDOWER A shorter time shall send me to you, lords: + And in my conduct shall your ladies come; + From whom you now must steal and take no leave, + For there will be a world of water shed + Upon the parting of your wives and you. + +HOTSPUR Methinks my moiety, north from Burton here, + In quantity equals not one of yours: + See how this river comes me cranking in, + And cuts me from the best of all my land + A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out. + I'll have the current in this place damm'd up; + And here the smug and silver Trent shall run + In a new channel, fair and evenly; + It shall not wind with such a deep indent, + To rob me of so rich a bottom here. + +GLENDOWER Not wind? it shall, it must; you see it doth. + +MORTIMER Yea, but + Mark how he bears his course, and runs me up + With like advantage on the other side; + Gelding the opposed continent as much + As on the other side it takes from you. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Yea, but a little charge will trench him here + And on this north side win this cape of land; + And then he runs straight and even. + +HOTSPUR I'll have it so: a little charge will do it. + +GLENDOWER I'll not have it alter'd. + +HOTSPUR Will not you? + +GLENDOWER No, nor you shall not. + +HOTSPUR Who shall say me nay? + +GLENDOWER Why, that will I. + +HOTSPUR Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh. + +GLENDOWER I can speak English, lord, as well as you; + For I was train'd up in the English court; + Where, being but young, I framed to the harp + Many an English ditty lovely well + And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, + A virtue that was never seen in you. + +HOTSPUR Marry, + And I am glad of it with all my heart: + I had rather be a kitten and cry mew + Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; + I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, + Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; + And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, + Nothing so much as mincing poetry: + 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. + +GLENDOWER Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. + +HOTSPUR I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land + To any well-deserving friend; + But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, + I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. + Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? + +GLENDOWER The moon shines fair; you may away by night: + I'll haste the writer and withal + Break with your wives of your departure hence: + I am afraid my daughter will run mad, + So much she doteth on her Mortimer. + + [Exit GLENDOWER] + +MORTIMER Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! + +HOTSPUR I cannot choose: sometime he angers me + With telling me of the mouldwarp and the ant, + Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, + And of a dragon and a finless fish, + A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, + A couching lion and a ramping cat, + And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff + As puts me from my faith. I tell you what; + He held me last night at least nine hours + In reckoning up the several devils' names + That were his lackeys: I cried 'hum,' and 'well, go to,' + But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious + As a tired horse, a railing wife; + Worse than a smoky house: I had rather live + With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far, + Than feed on cates and have him talk to me + In any summer-house in Christendom. + +MORTIMER In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, + Exceedingly well read, and profited + In strange concealments, valiant as a lion + And as wondrous affable and as bountiful + As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? + He holds your temper in a high respect + And curbs himself even of his natural scope + When you come 'cross his humour; faith, he does: + I warrant you, that man is not alive + Might so have tempted him as you have done, + Without the taste of danger and reproof: + But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. + +EARL OF WORCESTER In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame; + And since your coming hither have done enough + To put him quite beside his patience. + You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault: + Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,-- + And that's the dearest grace it renders you,-- + Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage, + Defect of manners, want of government, + Pride, haughtiness, opinion and disdain: + The least of which haunting a nobleman + Loseth men's hearts and leaves behind a stain + Upon the beauty of all parts besides, + Beguiling them of commendation. + +HOTSPUR Well, I am school'd: good manners be your speed! + Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. + + [Re-enter GLENDOWER with the ladies] + +MORTIMER This is the deadly spite that angers me; + My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. + +GLENDOWER My daughter weeps: she will not part with you; + She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. + +MORTIMER Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy + Shall follow in your conduct speedily. + + [Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she + answers him in the same] + +GLENDOWER She is desperate here; a peevish self-wind harlotry, + one that no persuasion can do good upon. + + [The lady speaks in Welsh] + +MORTIMER I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh + Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens + I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, + In such a parley should I answer thee. + + [The lady speaks again in Welsh] + + I understand thy kisses and thou mine, + And that's a feeling disputation: + But I will never be a truant, love, + Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue + Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, + Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, + With ravishing division, to her lute. + +GLENDOWER Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. + + [The lady speaks again in Welsh] + +MORTIMER O, I am ignorance itself in this! + +GLENDOWER She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down + And rest your gentle head upon her lap, + And she will sing the song that pleaseth you + And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep. + Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness, + Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep + As is the difference betwixt day and night + The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team + Begins his golden progress in the east. + +MORTIMER With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing: + By that time will our book, I think, be drawn + +GLENDOWER Do so; + And those musicians that shall play to you + Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, + And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend. + +HOTSPUR Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: come, + quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. + +LADY PERCY Go, ye giddy goose. + + [The music plays] + +HOTSPUR Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh; + And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous. + By'r lady, he is a good musician. + +LADY PERCY Then should you be nothing but musical for you are + altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, + and hear the lady sing in Welsh. + +HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. + +LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken? + +HOTSPUR No. + +LADY PERCY Then be still. + +HOTSPUR Neither;'tis a woman's fault. + +LADY PERCY Now God help thee! + +HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady's bed. + +LADY PERCY What's that? + +HOTSPUR Peace! she sings. + + [Here the lady sings a Welsh song] + +HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. + +LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth. + +HOTSPUR Not yours, in good sooth! Heart! you swear like a + comfit-maker's wife. 'Not you, in good sooth,' and + 'as true as I live,' and 'as God shall mend me,' and + 'as sure as day,' + And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, + As if thou never walk'st further than Finsbury. + Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, + A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,' + And such protest of pepper-gingerbread, + To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens. + Come, sing. + +LADY PERCY I will not sing. + +HOTSPUR 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-breast + teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away + within these two hours; and so, come in when ye will. + + [Exit] + +GLENDOWER Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you are as slow + As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go. + By this our book is drawn; we'll but seal, + And then to horse immediately. + +MORTIMER With all my heart. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II London. The palace. + + + [Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE HENRY, and others] + +KING HENRY IV Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I + Must have some private conference; but be near at hand, + For we shall presently have need of you. + + [Exeunt Lords] + + I know not whether God will have it so, + For some displeasing service I have done, + That, in his secret doom, out of my blood + He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; + But thou dost in thy passages of life + Make me believe that thou art only mark'd + For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven + To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, + Could such inordinate and low desires, + Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, + Such barren pleasures, rude society, + As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, + Accompany the greatness of thy blood + And hold their level with thy princely heart? + +PRINCE HENRY So please your majesty, I would I could + Quit all offences with as clear excuse + As well as I am doubtless I can purge + Myself of many I am charged withal: + Yet such extenuation let me beg, + As, in reproof of many tales devised, + which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, + By smiling pick-thanks and base news-mongers, + I may, for some things true, wherein my youth + Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, + Find pardon on my true submission. + +KING HENRY IV God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry, + At thy affections, which do hold a wing + Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. + Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost. + Which by thy younger brother is supplied, + And art almost an alien to the hearts + Of all the court and princes of my blood: + The hope and expectation of thy time + Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man + Prophetically doth forethink thy fall. + Had I so lavish of my presence been, + So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, + So stale and cheap to vulgar company, + Opinion, that did help me to the crown, + Had still kept loyal to possession + And left me in reputeless banishment, + A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. + By being seldom seen, I could not stir + But like a comet I was wonder'd at; + That men would tell their children 'This is he;' + Others would say 'Where, which is Bolingbroke?' + And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, + And dress'd myself in such humility + That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, + Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, + Even in the presence of the crowned king. + Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; + My presence, like a robe pontifical, + Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, + Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast + And won by rareness such solemnity. + The skipping king, he ambled up and down + With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, + Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, + Mingled his royalty with capering fools, + Had his great name profaned with their scorns + And gave his countenance, against his name, + To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push + Of every beardless vain comparative, + Grew a companion to the common streets, + Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; + That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, + They surfeited with honey and began + To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little + More than a little is by much too much. + So when he had occasion to be seen, + He was but as the cuckoo is in June, + Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes + As, sick and blunted with community, + Afford no extraordinary gaze, + Such as is bent on sun-like majesty + When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; + But rather drowzed and hung their eyelids down, + Slept in his face and render'd such aspect + As cloudy men use to their adversaries, + Being with his presence glutted, gorged and full. + And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; + For thou has lost thy princely privilege + With vile participation: not an eye + But is a-weary of thy common sight, + Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more; + Which now doth that I would not have it do, + Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. + +PRINCE HENRY I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, + Be more myself. + +KING HENRY IV For all the world + As thou art to this hour was Richard then + When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh, + And even as I was then is Percy now. + Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, + He hath more worthy interest to the state + Than thou the shadow of succession; + For of no right, nor colour like to right, + He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, + Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, + And, being no more in debt to years than thou, + Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on + To bloody battles and to bruising arms. + What never-dying honour hath he got + Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, + Whose hot incursions and great name in arms + Holds from all soldiers chief majority + And military title capital + Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ: + Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, + This infant warrior, in his enterprises + Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once, + Enlarged him and made a friend of him, + To fill the mouth of deep defiance up + And shake the peace and safety of our throne. + And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, + The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, + Capitulate against us and are up. + But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? + Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, + Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? + Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, + Base inclination and the start of spleen + To fight against me under Percy's pay, + To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns, + To show how much thou art degenerate. + +PRINCE HENRY Do not think so; you shall not find it so: + And God forgive them that so much have sway'd + Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! + I will redeem all this on Percy's head + And in the closing of some glorious day + Be bold to tell you that I am your son; + When I will wear a garment all of blood + And stain my favours in a bloody mask, + Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it: + And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, + That this same child of honour and renown, + This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, + And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. + For every honour sitting on his helm, + Would they were multitudes, and on my head + My shames redoubled! for the time will come, + That I shall make this northern youth exchange + His glorious deeds for my indignities. + Percy is but my factor, good my lord, + To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; + And I will call him to so strict account, + That he shall render every glory up, + Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, + Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. + This, in the name of God, I promise here: + The which if He be pleased I shall perform, + I do beseech your majesty may salve + The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: + If not, the end of life cancels all bands; + And I will die a hundred thousand deaths + Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. + +KING HENRY IV A hundred thousand rebels die in this: + Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. + + [Enter BLUNT] + + How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT So hath the business that I come to speak of. + Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word + That Douglas and the English rebels met + The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury + A mighty and a fearful head they are, + If promises be kept on every hand, + As ever offer'd foul play in the state. + +KING HENRY IV The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day; + With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; + For this advertisement is five days old: + On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward; + On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting + Is Bridgenorth: and, Harry, you shall march + Through Gloucestershire; by which account, + Our business valued, some twelve days hence + Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. + Our hands are full of business: let's away; + Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Eastcheap. The Boar's-Head Tavern. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last + action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why my + skin hangs about me like an like an old lady's loose + gown; I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, + I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some + liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I + shall have no strength to repent. An I have not + forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I + am a peppercorn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a + church! Company, villanous company, hath been the + spoil of me. + +BARDOLPH Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. + +FALSTAFF Why, there is it: come sing me a bawdy song; make + me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman + need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced not + above seven times a week; went to a bawdy-house once + in a quarter--of an hour; paid money that I + borrowed, three of four times; lived well and in + good compass: and now I live out of all order, out + of all compass. + +BARDOLPH Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs + be out of all compass, out of all reasonable + compass, Sir John. + +FALSTAFF Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: + thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in + the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the + Knight of the Burning Lamp. + +BARDOLPH Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. + +FALSTAFF No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many + a man doth of a Death's-head or a memento mori: I + never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire and + Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his + robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way + given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath + should be 'By this fire, that's God's angel:' but + thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but + for the light in thy face, the son of utter + darkness. When thou rannest up Gadshill in the + night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou + hadst been an ignis fatuus or a ball of wildfire, + there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a + perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! + Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and + torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt + tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast + drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap + at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have + maintained that salamander of yours with fire any + time this two and thirty years; God reward me for + it! + +BARDOLPH 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! + +FALSTAFF God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned. + + [Enter Hostess] + + How now, Dame Partlet the hen! have you inquired + yet who picked my pocket? + +Hostess Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you + think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, + I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy + by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair + was never lost in my house before. + +FALSTAFF Ye lie, hostess: Bardolph was shaved and lost many + a hair; and I'll be sworn my pocket was picked. Go + to, you are a woman, go. + +Hostess Who, I? no; I defy thee: God's light, I was never + called so in mine own house before. + +FALSTAFF Go to, I know you well enough. + +Hostess No, Sir John; You do not know me, Sir John. I know + you, Sir John: you owe me money, Sir John; and now + you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it: I bought + you a dozen of shirts to your back. + +FALSTAFF Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to + bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them. + +Hostess Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight + shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir + John, for your diet and by-drinkings, and money lent + you, four and twenty pound. + +FALSTAFF He had his part of it; let him pay. + +Hostess He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. + +FALSTAFF How! poor? look upon his face; what call you rich? + let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks: + Ill not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker + of me? shall I not take mine case in mine inn but I + shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a + seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. + +Hostess O Jesu, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not + how oft, that ring was copper! + +FALSTAFF How! the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup: 'sblood, an + he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he + would say so. + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY and PETO, marching, and FALSTAFF + meets them playing on his truncheon like a life] + + How now, lad! is the wind in that door, i' faith? + must we all march? + +BARDOLPH Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. + +Hostess My lord, I pray you, hear me. + +PRINCE HENRY What sayest thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy + husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. + +Hostess Good my lord, hear me. + +FALSTAFF Prithee, let her alone, and list to me. + +PRINCE HENRY What sayest thou, Jack? + +FALSTAFF The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras + and had my pocket picked: this house is turned + bawdy-house; they pick pockets. + +PRINCE HENRY What didst thou lose, Jack? + +FALSTAFF Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of + forty pound apiece, and a seal-ring of my + grandfather's. + +PRINCE HENRY A trifle, some eight-penny matter. + +Hostess So I told him, my lord; and I said I heard your + grace say so: and, my lord, he speaks most vilely + of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said + he would cudgel you. + +PRINCE HENRY What! he did not? + +Hostess There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. + +FALSTAFF There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed + prune; nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn + fox; and for womanhood, Maid Marian may be the + deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, + go + +Hostess Say, what thing? what thing? + +FALSTAFF What thing! why, a thing to thank God on. + +Hostess I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou + shouldst know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, + setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to + call me so. + +FALSTAFF Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say + otherwise. + +Hostess Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? + +FALSTAFF What beast! why, an otter. + +PRINCE HENRY An otter, Sir John! Why an otter? + +FALSTAFF Why, she's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not + where to have her. + +Hostess Thou art an unjust man in saying so: thou or any + man knows where to have me, thou knave, thou! + +PRINCE HENRY Thou sayest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly. + +Hostess So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day you + ought him a thousand pound. + +PRINCE HENRY Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? + +FALSTAFF A thousand pound, Ha! a million: thy love is worth + a million: thou owest me thy love. + +Hostess Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said he would + cudgel you. + +FALSTAFF Did I, Bardolph? + +BARDOLPH Indeed, Sir John, you said so. + +FALSTAFF Yea, if he said my ring was copper. + +PRINCE HENRY I say 'tis copper: darest thou be as good as thy word now? + +FALSTAFF Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: + but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the + roaring of a lion's whelp. + +PRINCE HENRY And why not as the lion? + +FALSTAFF The king is to be feared as the lion: dost thou + think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an + I do, I pray God my girdle break. + +PRINCE HENRY O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy + knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, + truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all + filled up with guts and midriff. Charge an honest + woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whoreson, + impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in + thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of + bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of + sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket + were enriched with any other injuries but these, I + am a villain: and yet you will stand to if; you will + not pocket up wrong: art thou not ashamed? + +FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest in the state of + innocency Adam fell; and what should poor Jack + Falstaff do in the days of villany? Thou seest I + have more flesh than another man, and therefore more + frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket? + +PRINCE HENRY It appears so by the story. + +FALSTAFF Hostess, I forgive thee: go, make ready breakfast; + love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy + guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest + reason: thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, + prithee, be gone. + + [Exit Hostess] + + Now Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, + lad, how is that answered? + +PRINCE HENRY O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to + thee: the money is paid back again. + +FALSTAFF O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour. + +PRINCE HENRY I am good friends with my father and may do any thing. + +FALSTAFF Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and + do it with unwashed hands too. + +BARDOLPH Do, my lord. + +PRINCE HENRY I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. + +FALSTAFF I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find + one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the + age of two and twenty or thereabouts! I am + heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for + these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous: I + laud them, I praise them. + +PRINCE HENRY Bardolph! + +BARDOLPH My lord? + +PRINCE HENRY Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, to my + brother John; this to my Lord of Westmoreland. + + [Exit Bardolph] + + Go, Peto, to horse, to horse; for thou and I have + thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. + + [Exit Peto] + + Jack, meet me to-morrow in the temple hall at two + o'clock in the afternoon. + There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive + Money and order for their furniture. + The land is burning; Percy stands on high; + And either we or they must lower lie. + + [Exit PRINCE HENRY] + +FALSTAFF Rare words! brave world! Hostess, my breakfast, come! + O, I could wish this tavern were my drum! + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. + + + [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS] + +HOTSPUR Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth + In this fine age were not thought flattery, + Such attribution should the Douglas have, + As not a soldier of this season's stamp + Should go so general current through the world. + By God, I cannot flatter; I do defy + The tongues of soothers; but a braver place + In my heart's love hath no man than yourself: + Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Thou art the king of honour: + No man so potent breathes upon the ground + But I will beard him. + +HOTSPUR Do so, and 'tis well. + + [Enter a Messenger with letters] + + What letters hast thou there?--I can but thank you. + +Messenger These letters come from your father. + +HOTSPUR Letters from him! why comes he not himself? + +Messenger He cannot come, my lord; he is grievous sick. + +HOTSPUR 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick + In such a rustling time? Who leads his power? + Under whose government come they along? + +Messenger His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. + +EARL OF WORCESTER I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? + +Messenger He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; + And at the time of my departure thence + He was much fear'd by his physicians. + +EARL OF WORCESTER I would the state of time had first been whole + Ere he by sickness had been visited: + His health was never better worth than now. + +HOTSPUR Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect + The very life-blood of our enterprise; + 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. + He writes me here, that inward sickness-- + And that his friends by deputation could not + So soon be drawn, nor did he think it meet + To lay so dangerous and dear a trust + On any soul removed but on his own. + Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, + That with our small conjunction we should on, + To see how fortune is disposed to us; + For, as he writes, there is no quailing now. + Because the king is certainly possess'd + Of all our purposes. What say you to it? + +EARL OF WORCESTER Your father's sickness is a maim to us. + +HOTSPUR A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: + And yet, in faith, it is not; his present want + Seems more than we shall find it: were it good + To set the exact wealth of all our states + All at one cast? to set so rich a main + On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? + It were not good; for therein should we read + The very bottom and the soul of hope, + The very list, the very utmost bound + Of all our fortunes. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS 'Faith, and so we should; + Where now remains a sweet reversion: + We may boldly spend upon the hope of what + Is to come in: + A comfort of retirement lives in this. + +HOTSPUR A rendezvous, a home to fly unto. + If that the devil and mischance look big + Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. + +EARL OF WORCESTER But yet I would your father had been here. + The quality and hair of our attempt + Brooks no division: it will be thought + By some, that know not why he is away, + That wisdom, loyalty and mere dislike + Of our proceedings kept the earl from hence: + And think how such an apprehension + May turn the tide of fearful faction + And breed a kind of question in our cause; + For well you know we of the offering side + Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, + And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence + The eye of reason may pry in upon us: + This absence of your father's draws a curtain, + That shows the ignorant a kind of fear + Before not dreamt of. + +HOTSPUR You strain too far. + I rather of his absence make this use: + It lends a lustre and more great opinion, + A larger dare to our great enterprise, + Than if the earl were here; for men must think, + If we without his help can make a head + To push against a kingdom, with his help + We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. + Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS As heart can think: there is not such a word + Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. + + [Enter SIR RICHARD VERNON] + +HOTSPUR My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul. + +VERNON Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. + The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, + Is marching hitherwards; with him Prince John. + +HOTSPUR No harm: what more? + +VERNON And further, I have learn'd, + The king himself in person is set forth, + Or hitherwards intended speedily, + With strong and mighty preparation. + +HOTSPUR He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, + The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, + And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside, + And bid it pass? + +VERNON All furnish'd, all in arms; + All plumed like estridges that with the wind + Baited like eagles having lately bathed; + Glittering in golden coats, like images; + As full of spirit as the month of May, + And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; + Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. + I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, + His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd + Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, + And vaulted with such ease into his seat, + As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, + To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus + And witch the world with noble horsemanship. + +HOTSPUR No more, no more: worse than the sun in March, + This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come: + They come like sacrifices in their trim, + And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war + All hot and bleeding will we offer them: + The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit + Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire + To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh + And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse, + Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt + Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales: + Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, + Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. + O that Glendower were come! + +VERNON There is more news: + I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, + He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. + +WORCESTER Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. + +HOTSPUR What may the king's whole battle reach unto? + +VERNON To thirty thousand. + +HOTSPUR Forty let it be: + My father and Glendower being both away, + The powers of us may serve so great a day + Come, let us take a muster speedily: + Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Talk not of dying: I am out of fear + Of death or death's hand for this one-half year. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II A public road near Coventry. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a + bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; + we'll to Sutton Co'fil' tonight. + +BARDOLPH Will you give me money, captain? + +FALSTAFF Lay out, lay out. + +BARDOLPH This bottle makes an angel. + +FALSTAFF An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make + twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage. Bid + my lieutenant Peto meet me at town's end. + +BARDOLPH I will, captain: farewell. + + [Exit] + +FALSTAFF If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused + gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. + I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty + soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me + none but good house-holders, yeoman's sons; inquire + me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked + twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, + as had as lieve hear the devil as a drum; such as + fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck + fowl or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such + toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no + bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out + their services; and now my whole charge consists of + ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of + companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the + painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his + sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but + discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to + younger brothers, revolted tapsters and ostlers + trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a + long peace, ten times more dishonourable ragged than + an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up + the rooms of them that have bought out their + services, that you would think that I had a hundred + and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from + swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad + fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded + all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye + hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through + Coventry with them, that's flat: nay, and the + villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had + gyves on; for indeed I had the most of them out of + prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my + company; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked + together and thrown over the shoulders like an + herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say + the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or + the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that's all + one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. + + [Enter the PRINCE and WESTMORELAND] + +PRINCE HENRY How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt! + +FALSTAFF What, Hal! how now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou + in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I + cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been + at Shrewsbury. + +WESTMORELAND Faith, Sir John,'tis more than time that I were + there, and you too; but my powers are there already. + The king, I can tell you, looks for us all: we must + away all night. + +FALSTAFF Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to + steal cream. + +PRINCE HENRY I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath + already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose + fellows are these that come after? + +FALSTAFF Mine, Hal, mine. + +PRINCE HENRY I did never see such pitiful rascals. + +FALSTAFF Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food + for powder; they'll fill a pit as well as better: + tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. + +WESTMORELAND Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor + and bare, too beggarly. + +FALSTAFF 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had + that; and for their bareness, I am sure they never + learned that of me. + +PRINCE HENRY No I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on + the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is + already in the field. + +FALSTAFF What, is the king encamped? + +WESTMORELAND He is, Sir John: I fear we shall stay too long. + +FALSTAFF Well, + To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast + Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. + + + [Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON] + +HOTSPUR We'll fight with him to-night. + +EARL OF WORCESTER It may not be. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS You give him then the advantage. + +VERNON Not a whit. + +HOTSPUR Why say you so? looks he not for supply? + +VERNON So do we. + +HOTSPUR His is certain, ours is doubtful. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Good cousin, be advised; stir not tonight. + +VERNON Do not, my lord. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS You do not counsel well: + You speak it out of fear and cold heart. + +VERNON Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, + And I dare well maintain it with my life, + If well-respected honour bid me on, + I hold as little counsel with weak fear + As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives: + Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle + Which of us fears. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Yea, or to-night. + +VERNON Content. + +HOTSPUR To-night, say I. + +VERNON Come, come it nay not be. I wonder much, + Being men of such great leading as you are, + That you foresee not what impediments + Drag back our expedition: certain horse + Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: + Your uncle Worcester's horse came but today; + And now their pride and mettle is asleep, + Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, + That not a horse is half the half of himself. + +HOTSPUR So are the horses of the enemy + In general, journey-bated and brought low: + The better part of ours are full of rest. + +EARL OF WORCESTER The number of the king exceedeth ours: + For God's sake. cousin, stay till all come in. + + [The trumpet sounds a parley] + + [Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT] + +SIR WALTER BLUNT I come with gracious offers from the king, + if you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. + +HOTSPUR Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; and would to God + You were of our determination! + Some of us love you well; and even those some + Envy your great deservings and good name, + Because you are not of our quality, + But stand against us like an enemy. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT And God defend but still I should stand so, + So long as out of limit and true rule + You stand against anointed majesty. + But to my charge. The king hath sent to know + The nature of your griefs, and whereupon + You conjure from the breast of civil peace + Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land + Audacious cruelty. If that the king + Have any way your good deserts forgot, + Which he confesseth to be manifold, + He bids you name your griefs; and with all speed + You shall have your desires with interest + And pardon absolute for yourself and these + Herein misled by your suggestion. + +HOTSPUR The king is kind; and well we know the king + Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. + My father and my uncle and myself + Did give him that same royalty he wears; + And when he was not six and twenty strong, + Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, + A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, + My father gave him welcome to the shore; + And when he heard him swear and vow to God + He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, + To sue his livery and beg his peace, + With tears of innocency and terms of zeal, + My father, in kind heart and pity moved, + Swore him assistance and perform'd it too. + Now when the lords and barons of the realm + Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, + The more and less came in with cap and knee; + Met him in boroughs, cities, villages, + Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, + Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, + Gave him their heirs, as pages follow'd him + Even at the heels in golden multitudes. + He presently, as greatness knows itself, + Steps me a little higher than his vow + Made to my father, while his blood was poor, + Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; + And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform + Some certain edicts and some strait decrees + That lie too heavy on the commonwealth, + Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep + Over his country's wrongs; and by this face, + This seeming brow of justice, did he win + The hearts of all that he did angle for; + Proceeded further; cut me off the heads + Of all the favourites that the absent king + In deputation left behind him here, + When he was personal in the Irish war. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT Tut, I came not to hear this. + +HOTSPUR Then to the point. + In short time after, he deposed the king; + Soon after that, deprived him of his life; + And in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: + To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March, + Who is, if every owner were well placed, + Indeed his king, to be engaged in Wales, + There without ransom to lie forfeited; + Disgraced me in my happy victories, + Sought to entrap me by intelligence; + Rated mine uncle from the council-board; + In rage dismiss'd my father from the court; + Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong, + And in conclusion drove us to seek out + This head of safety; and withal to pry + Into his title, the which we find + Too indirect for long continuance. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT Shall I return this answer to the king? + +HOTSPUR Not so, Sir Walter: we'll withdraw awhile. + Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd + Some surety for a safe return again, + And in the morning early shall my uncle + Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT I would you would accept of grace and love. + +HOTSPUR And may be so we shall. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT Pray God you do. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV York. The ARCHBISHOP'S palace. + + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK and SIR MICHAEL] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief + With winged haste to the lord marshal; + This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest + To whom they are directed. If you knew + How much they do to import, you would make haste. + +SIR MICHAEL My good lord, + I guess their tenor. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Like enough you do. + To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day + Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men + Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, + As I am truly given to understand, + The king with mighty and quick-raised power + Meets with Lord Harry: and, I fear, Sir Michael, + What with the sickness of Northumberland, + Whose power was in the first proportion, + And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence, + Who with them was a rated sinew too + And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies, + I fear the power of Percy is too weak + To wage an instant trial with the king. + +SIR MICHAEL Why, my good lord, you need not fear; + There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK No, Mortimer is not there. + +SIR MICHAEL But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, + And there is my Lord of Worcester and a head + Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK And so there is: but yet the king hath drawn + The special head of all the land together: + The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, + The noble Westmoreland and warlike Blunt; + And moe corrivals and dear men + Of estimation and command in arms. + +SIR MICHAEL Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; + And, to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed: + For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the king + Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, + For he hath heard of our confederacy, + And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him: + Therefore make haste. I must go write again + To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I KING HENRY IV's camp near Shrewsbury. + + + [Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE HENRY, Lord John of + LANCASTER, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER BLUNT, + and FALSTAFF] + +KING HENRY IV How bloodily the sun begins to peer + Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale + At his distemperature. + +PRINCE HENRY The southern wind + Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, + And by his hollow whistling in the leaves + Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. + +KING HENRY IV Then with the losers let it sympathize, + For nothing can seem foul to those that win. + + [The trumpet sounds] + + [Enter WORCESTER and VERNON] + + How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'tis not well + That you and I should meet upon such terms + As now we meet. You have deceived our trust, + And made us doff our easy robes of peace, + To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel: + This is not well, my lord, this is not well. + What say you to it? will you again unknit + This curlish knot of all-abhorred war? + And move in that obedient orb again + Where you did give a fair and natural light, + And be no more an exhaled meteor, + A prodigy of fear and a portent + Of broached mischief to the unborn times? + +EARL OF WORCESTER Hear me, my liege: + For mine own part, I could be well content + To entertain the lag-end of my life + With quiet hours; for I do protest, + I have not sought the day of this dislike. + +KING HENRY IV You have not sought it! how comes it, then? + +FALSTAFF Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. + +PRINCE HENRY Peace, chewet, peace! + +EARL OF WORCESTER It pleased your majesty to turn your looks + Of favour from myself and all our house; + And yet I must remember you, my lord, + We were the first and dearest of your friends. + For you my staff of office did I break + In Richard's time; and posted day and night + to meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, + When yet you were in place and in account + Nothing so strong and fortunate as I. + It was myself, my brother and his son, + That brought you home and boldly did outdare + The dangers of the time. You swore to us, + And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, + That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state; + Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right, + The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster: + To this we swore our aid. But in short space + It rain'd down fortune showering on your head; + And such a flood of greatness fell on you, + What with our help, what with the absent king, + What with the injuries of a wanton time, + The seeming sufferances that you had borne, + And the contrarious winds that held the king + So long in his unlucky Irish wars + That all in England did repute him dead: + And from this swarm of fair advantages + You took occasion to be quickly woo'd + To gripe the general sway into your hand; + Forget your oath to us at Doncaster; + And being fed by us you used us so + As that ungentle hull, the cuckoo's bird, + Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest; + Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk + That even our love durst not come near your sight + For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing + We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly + Out of sight and raise this present head; + Whereby we stand opposed by such means + As you yourself have forged against yourself + By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, + And violation of all faith and troth + Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. + +KING HENRY IV These things indeed you have articulate, + Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches, + To face the garment of rebellion + With some fine colour that may please the eye + Of fickle changelings and poor discontents, + Which gape and rub the elbow at the news + Of hurlyburly innovation: + And never yet did insurrection want + Such water-colours to impaint his cause; + Nor moody beggars, starving for a time + Of pellmell havoc and confusion. + +PRINCE HENRY In both your armies there is many a soul + Shall pay full dearly for this encounter, + If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, + The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world + In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes, + This present enterprise set off his head, + I do not think a braver gentleman, + More active-valiant or more valiant-young, + More daring or more bold, is now alive + To grace this latter age with noble deeds. + For my part, I may speak it to my shame, + I have a truant been to chivalry; + And so I hear he doth account me too; + Yet this before my father's majesty-- + I am content that he shall take the odds + Of his great name and estimation, + And will, to save the blood on either side, + Try fortune with him in a single fight. + +KING HENRY IV And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, + Albeit considerations infinite + Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no, + We love our people well; even those we love + That are misled upon your cousin's part; + And, will they take the offer of our grace, + Both he and they and you, every man + Shall be my friend again and I'll be his: + So tell your cousin, and bring me word + What he will do: but if he will not yield, + Rebuke and dread correction wait on us + And they shall do their office. So, be gone; + We will not now be troubled with reply: + We offer fair; take it advisedly. + + [Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON] + +PRINCE HENRY It will not be accepted, on my life: + The Douglas and the Hotspur both together + Are confident against the world in arms. + +KING HENRY IV Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge; + For, on their answer, will we set on them: + And God befriend us, as our cause is just! + + [Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY and FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride + me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. + +PRINCE HENRY Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. + Say thy prayers, and farewell. + +FALSTAFF I would 'twere bed-time, Hal, and all well. + +PRINCE HENRY Why, thou owest God a death. + + [Exit PRINCE HENRY] + +FALSTAFF 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before + his day. What need I be so forward with him that + calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks + me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I + come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or + an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. + Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is + honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what + is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? + he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. + Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then. Yea, + to the dead. But will it not live with the living? + no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore + I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so + ends my catechism. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The rebel camp. + + + [Enter WORCESTER and VERNON] + +EARL OF WORCESTER O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, + The liberal and kind offer of the king. + +VERNON 'Twere best he did. + +EARL OF WORCESTER Then are we all undone. + It is not possible, it cannot be, + The king should keep his word in loving us; + He will suspect us still and find a time + To punish this offence in other faults: + Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes; + For treason is but trusted like the fox, + Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd and lock'd up, + Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. + Look how we can, or sad or merrily, + Interpretation will misquote our looks, + And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, + The better cherish'd, still the nearer death. + My nephew's trespass may be well forgot; + it hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, + And an adopted name of privilege, + A hair-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen: + All his offences live upon my head + And on his father's; we did train him on, + And, his corruption being ta'en from us, + We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. + Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, + In any case, the offer of the king. + +VERNON Deliver what you will; I'll say 'tis so. + Here comes your cousin. + + [Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS] + +HOTSPUR My uncle is return'd: + Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland. + Uncle, what news? + +EARL OF WORCESTER The king will bid you battle presently. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Defy him by the Lord of Westmoreland. + +HOTSPUR Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Marry, and shall, and very willingly. + + [Exit] + +EARL OF WORCESTER There is no seeming mercy in the king. + +HOTSPUR Did you beg any? God forbid! + +EARL OF WORCESTER I told him gently of our grievances, + Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, + By now forswearing that he is forsworn: + He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge + With haughty arms this hateful name in us. + + [Re-enter the EARL OF DOUGLAS] + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown + A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, + And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it; + Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. + +EARL OF WORCESTER The Prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king, + And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. + +HOTSPUR O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, + And that no man might draw short breath today + But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, + How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt? + +VERNON No, by my soul; I never in my life + Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, + Unless a brother should a brother dare + To gentle exercise and proof of arms. + He gave you all the duties of a man; + Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue, + Spoke to your deservings like a chronicle, + Making you ever better than his praise + By still dispraising praise valued in you; + And, which became him like a prince indeed, + He made a blushing cital of himself; + And chid his truant youth with such a grace + As if he master'd there a double spirit. + Of teaching and of learning instantly. + There did he pause: but let me tell the world, + If he outlive the envy of this day, + England did never owe so sweet a hope, + So much misconstrued in his wantonness. + +HOTSPUR Cousin, I think thou art enamoured + On his follies: never did I hear + Of any prince so wild a libertine. + But be he as he will, yet once ere night + I will embrace him with a soldier's arm, + That he shall shrink under my courtesy. + Arm, arm with speed: and, fellows, soldiers, friends, + Better consider what you have to do + Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, + Can lift your blood up with persuasion. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, here are letters for you. + +HOTSPUR I cannot read them now. + O gentlemen, the time of life is short! + To spend that shortness basely were too long, + If life did ride upon a dial's point, + Still ending at the arrival of an hour. + An if we live, we live to tread on kings; + If die, brave death, when princes die with us! + Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair, + When the intent of bearing them is just. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace. + +HOTSPUR I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale, + For I profess not talking; only this-- + Let each man do his best: and here draw I + A sword, whose temper I intend to stain + With the best blood that I can meet withal + In the adventure of this perilous day. + Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on. + Sound all the lofty instruments of war, + And by that music let us all embrace; + For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall + A second time do such a courtesy. + + [The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Plain between the camps. + + + [KING HENRY enters with his power. Alarum to the + battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and SIR WALTER BLUNT] + +SIR WALTER BLUNT What is thy name, that in the battle thus + Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek + Upon my head? + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Know then, my name is Douglas; + And I do haunt thee in the battle thus + Because some tell me that thou art a king. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT They tell thee true. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS The Lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought + Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, + This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee, + Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. + +SIR WALTER BLUNT I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; + And thou shalt find a king that will revenge + Lord Stafford's death. + + [They fight. DOUGLAS kills SIR WALTER BLUNT. + Enter HOTSPUR] + +HOTSPUR O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, + never had triumph'd upon a Scot. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king. + +HOTSPUR Where? + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Here. + +HOTSPUR This, Douglas? no: I know this face full well: + A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; + Semblably furnish'd like the king himself. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! + A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear: + Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? + +HOTSPUR The king hath many marching in his coats. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; + I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece, + Until I meet the king. + +HOTSPUR Up, and away! + Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. + + [Exeunt] + + [Alarum. Enter FALSTAFF, solus] + +FALSTAFF Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear + the shot here; here's no scoring but upon the pate. + Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt: there's honour + for you! here's no vanity! I am as hot as moulten + lead, and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I + need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have + led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's + not three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and + they are for the town's end, to beg during life. + But who comes here? + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY] + +PRINCE HENRY What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword: + Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff + Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, + Whose deaths are yet unrevenged: I prithee, + lend me thy sword. + +FALSTAFF O Hal, I prithee, give me leave to breathe awhile. + Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have + done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. + +PRINCE HENRY He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I prithee, + lend me thy sword. + +FALSTAFF Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st + not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. + +PRINCE HENRY Give it to me: what, is it in the case? + +FALSTAFF Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city. + + [PRINCE HENRY draws it out, and finds it to be a + bottle of sack] + +PRINCE HENRY What, is it a time to jest and dally now? + + [He throws the bottle at him. Exit] + +FALSTAFF Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do + come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his + willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like + not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: give me + life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes + unlooked for, and there's an end. + + [Exit FALSTAFF] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum. Excursions. Enter PRINCE HENRY, LORD JOHN + OF LANCASTER, and EARL OF WESTMORELAND] + +KING HENRY IV I prithee, + Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much. + Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. + +LANCASTER Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. + +PRINCE HENRY I beseech your majesty, make up, + Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. + +KING HENRY IV I will do so. + My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent. + +WESTMORELAND Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent. + +PRINCE HENRY Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help: + And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive + The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, + Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, + and rebels' arms triumph in massacres! + +LANCASTER We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, + Our duty this way lies; for God's sake come. + + [Exeunt LANCASTER and WESTMORELAND] + +PRINCE HENRY By God, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster; + I did not think thee lord of such a spirit: + Before, I loved thee as a brother, John; + But now, I do respect thee as my soul. + +KING HENRY IV I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point + With lustier maintenance than I did look for + Of such an ungrown warrior. + +PRINCE HENRY O, this boy + Lends mettle to us all! + + [Exit] + + [Enter DOUGLAS] + +EARL OF DOUGLAS Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads: + I am the Douglas, fatal to all those + That wear those colours on them: what art thou, + That counterfeit'st the person of a king? + +KING HENRY IV The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart + So many of his shadows thou hast met + And not the very king. I have two boys + Seek Percy and thyself about the field: + But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, + I will assay thee: so, defend thyself. + +EARL OF DOUGLAS I fear thou art another counterfeit; + And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king: + But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be, + And thus I win thee. + + [They fight. KING HENRY being in danger, PRINCE + HENRY enters] + +PRINCE HENRY Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like + Never to hold it up again! the spirits + Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms: + It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee; + Who never promiseth but he means to pay. + + [They fight: DOUGLAS flies] + + Cheerly, my lord how fares your grace? + Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succor sent, + And so hath Clifton: I'll to Clifton straight. + +KING HENRY IV Stay, and breathe awhile: + Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion, + And show'd thou makest some tender of my life, + In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. + +PRINCE HENRY O God! they did me too much injury + That ever said I hearken'd for your death. + If it were so, I might have let alone + The insulting hand of Douglas over you, + Which would have been as speedy in your end + As all the poisonous potions in the world + And saved the treacherous labour of your son. + +KING HENRY IV Make up to Clifton: I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. + + [Exit] + + [Enter HOTSPUR] + +HOTSPUR If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. + +PRINCE HENRY Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. + +HOTSPUR My name is Harry Percy. + +PRINCE HENRY Why, then I see + A very valiant rebel of the name. + I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, + To share with me in glory any more: + Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; + Nor can one England brook a double reign, + Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. + +HOTSPUR Nor shall it, Harry; for the hour is come + To end the one of us; and would to God + Thy name in arms were now as great as mine! + +PRINCE HENRY I'll make it greater ere I part from thee; + And all the budding honours on thy crest + I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. + +HOTSPUR I can no longer brook thy vanities. + + [They fight] + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF Well said, Hal! to it Hal! Nay, you shall find no + boy's play here, I can tell you. + + [Re-enter DOUGLAS; he fights with FALSTAFF, + who falls down as if he were dead, and exit + DOUGLAS. HOTSPUR is wounded, and falls] + +HOTSPUR O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth! + I better brook the loss of brittle life + Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; + They wound my thoughts worse than sword my flesh: + But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool; + And time, that takes survey of all the world, + Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, + But that the earthy and cold hand of death + Lies on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art dust + And food for-- + + [Dies] + +PRINCE HENRY For worms, brave Percy: fare thee well, great heart! + Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk! + When that this body did contain a spirit, + A kingdom for it was too small a bound; + But now two paces of the vilest earth + Is room enough: this earth that bears thee dead + Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. + If thou wert sensible of courtesy, + I should not make so dear a show of zeal: + But let my favours hide thy mangled face; + And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself + For doing these fair rites of tenderness. + Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! + Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, + But not remember'd in thy epitaph! + + [He spieth FALSTAFF on the ground] + + What, old acquaintance! could not all this flesh + Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell! + I could have better spared a better man: + O, I should have a heavy miss of thee, + If I were much in love with vanity! + Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day, + Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. + Embowell'd will I see thee by and by: + Till then in blood by noble Percy lie. + + [Exit PRINCE HENRY] + +FALSTAFF [Rising up] Embowelled! if thou embowel me to-day, + I'll give you leave to powder me and eat me too + to-morrow. 'Sblood,'twas time to counterfeit, or + that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. + Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: to die, + is to be a counterfeit; for he is but the + counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man: + but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby + liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and + perfect image of life indeed. The better part of + valour is discretion; in the which better part I + have saved my life.'Zounds, I am afraid of this + gunpowder Percy, though he be dead: how, if he + should counterfeit too and rise? by my faith, I am + afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. + Therefore I'll make him sure; yea, and I'll swear I + killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? + Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. + Therefore, sirrah, + + [Stabbing him] + + with a new wound in your thigh, come you along with me. + + [Takes up HOTSPUR on his back] + + [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY and LORD JOHN OF LANCASTER] + +PRINCE HENRY Come, brother John; full bravely hast thou flesh'd + Thy maiden sword. + +LANCASTER But, soft! whom have we here? + Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? + +PRINCE HENRY I did; I saw him dead, + Breathless and bleeding on the ground. Art + thou alive? + Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? + I prithee, speak; we will not trust our eyes + Without our ears: thou art not what thou seem'st. + +FALSTAFF No, that's certain; I am not a double man: but if I + be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy: + + [Throwing the body down] + + if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let + him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either + earl or duke, I can assure you. + +PRINCE HENRY Why, Percy I killed myself and saw thee dead. + +FALSTAFF Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to + lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; + and so was he: but we rose both at an instant and + fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be + believed, so; if not, let them that should reward + valour bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll take + it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the + thigh: if the man were alive and would deny it, + 'zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. + +LANCASTER This is the strangest tale that ever I heard. + +PRINCE HENRY This is the strangest fellow, brother John. + Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back: + For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, + I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have. + + [A retreat is sounded] + + The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. + Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, + To see what friends are living, who are dead. + + [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY and LANCASTER] + +FALSTAFF I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that + rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow great, + I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and + live cleanly as a nobleman should do. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [The trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY IV, PRINCE + HENRY, LORD JOHN LANCASTER, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, + with WORCESTER and VERNON prisoners] + +KING HENRY IV Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. + Ill-spirited Worcester! did not we send grace, + Pardon and terms of love to all of you? + And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? + Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust? + Three knights upon our party slain to-day, + A noble earl and many a creature else + Had been alive this hour, + If like a Christian thou hadst truly borne + Betwixt our armies true intelligence. + +EARL OF WORCESTER What I have done my safety urged me to; + And I embrace this fortune patiently, + Since not to be avoided it falls on me. + +KING HENRY IV Bear Worcester to the death and Vernon too: + Other offenders we will pause upon. + + [Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON, guarded] + + How goes the field? + +PRINCE HENRY The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw + The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, + The noble Percy slain, and all his men + Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest; + And falling from a hill, he was so bruised + That the pursuers took him. At my tent + The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace + I may dispose of him. + +KING HENRY IV With all my heart. + + +PRINCE HENRY Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you + This honourable bounty shall belong: + Go to the Douglas, and deliver him + Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free: + His valour shown upon our crests to-day + Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds + Even in the bosom of our adversaries. + +LANCASTER I thank your grace for this high courtesy, + Which I shall give away immediately. + +KING HENRY IV Then this remains, that we divide our power. + You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland + Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed, + To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, + Who, as we hear, are busily in arms: + Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales, + To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. + Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, + Meeting the cheque of such another day: + And since this business so fair is done, + Let us not leave till all our own be won. + + [Exeunt] + 1 KING HENRY VI + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING +HENRY THE SIXTH (KING HENRY VI:) + +DUKE OF GLOUCESTER uncle to the King, and Protector. (GLOUCESTER:) + +DUKE OF BEDFORD uncle to the King, and Regent of France. (BEDFORD:) + +THOMAS BEAUFORT Duke of Exeter, great-uncle to the King. (EXETER:) + +HENRY BEAUFORT great-uncle to the King, Bishop of Winchester, and + afterwards Cardinal. (BISHOP OF WINCHESTER:) + +JOHN BEAUFORT Earl, afterwards Duke, of Somerset. (SOMERSET:) + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, (RICHARD + PLANTAGENET:) afterwards Duke of York. + (YORK:) + +EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:) + +EARL OF SALISBURY (SALISBURY:) + +EARL OF SUFFOLK (SUFFOLK:) + +LORD TALBOT afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. (TALBOT:) + +JOHN TALBOT Lord Talbot's son. + +EDMUND MORTIMER Earl of March. (MORTIMER:) + +SIR JOHN FASTOLFE (FASTOLFE:) + +SIR WILLIAM LUCY (LUCY:) + +SIR +WILLIAM GLANSDALE (GLANDSDALE:) + +SIR +THOMAS GARGRAVE (GARGRAVE:) + +Mayor of London (Mayor:) + +WOODVILE Lieutenant of the Tower. + +VERNON of the White-Rose or York faction. + +BASSET of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction. + + A Lawyer. (Lawyer:) + + Mortimer's Keepers. (First Gaoler:) + +CHARLES Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France. + +REIGNIER Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples. + +DUKE OF BURGUNDY (BURGUNDY:) + +DUKE OF ALENCON (ALENCON:) + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS: + + Governor of Paris. + + Master-Gunner of Orleans, (Master-Gunner:) + and his Son. (Boy:) + + General of the French forces in Bourdeaux. (General:) + + A French Sergeant. (Sargeant:) + + A Porter. + + An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle. (Shepherd:) + +MARGARET daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE: + +JOAN LA PUCELLE commonly called Joan of Arc. + + Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, + Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. + (First Warder:) + (Second Warder:) + (Captain:) + (Officer:) + (Soldier:) + (First Soldier:) + (Watch:) + (Scout:) + (First Sentinel:) + (Servant:) + (First Serving-Man:) + (Second Serving-Man:) + (Third Serving-Man:) + + Fiends appearing to La Pucelle. + + +SCENE Partly in England, and partly in France. + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Westminster Abbey. + + + [Dead March. Enter the Funeral of KING HENRY the + Fifth, attended on by Dukes of BEDFORD, Regent of + France; GLOUCESTER, Protector; and EXETER, Earl of + WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, Heralds, &c] + +BEDFORD Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! + Comets, importing change of times and states, + Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, + And with them scourge the bad revolting stars + That have consented unto Henry's death! + King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! + England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. + +GLOUCESTER England ne'er had a king until his time. + Virtue he had, deserving to command: + His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams: + His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; + His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful fire, + More dazzled and drove back his enemies + Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces. + What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech: + He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. + +EXETER We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood? + Henry is dead and never shall revive: + Upon a wooden coffin we attend, + And death's dishonourable victory + We with our stately presence glorify, + Like captives bound to a triumphant car. + What! shall we curse the planets of mishap + That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? + Or shall we think the subtle-witted French + Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him + By magic verses have contrived his end? + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER He was a king bless'd of the King of kings. + Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day + So dreadful will not be as was his sight. + The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: + The church's prayers made him so prosperous. + +GLOUCESTER The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd, + His thread of life had not so soon decay'd: + None do you like but an effeminate prince, + Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art protector + And lookest to command the prince and realm. + Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, + More than God or religious churchmen may. + +GLOUCESTER Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh, + And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st + Except it be to pray against thy foes. + +BEDFORD Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace: + Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us: + Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms: + Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead. + Posterity, await for wretched years, + When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck, + Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears, + And none but women left to wail the dead. + Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate: + Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils, + Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! + A far more glorious star thy soul will make + Than Julius Caesar or bright-- + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My honourable lords, health to you all! + Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, + Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture: + Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans, + Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. + +BEDFORD What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? + Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns + Will make him burst his lead and rise from death. + +GLOUCESTER Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up? + If Henry were recall'd to life again, + These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. + +EXETER How were they lost? what treachery was used? + +Messenger No treachery; but want of men and money. + Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, + That here you maintain several factions, + And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought, + You are disputing of your generals: + One would have lingering wars with little cost; + Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; + A third thinks, without expense at all, + By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. + Awake, awake, English nobility! + Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot: + Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; + Of England's coat one half is cut away. + +EXETER Were our tears wanting to this funeral, + These tidings would call forth their flowing tides. + +BEDFORD Me they concern; Regent I am of France. + Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France. + Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! + Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes, + To weep their intermissive miseries. + + [Enter to them another Messenger] + +Messenger Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance. + France is revolted from the English quite, + Except some petty towns of no import: + The Dauphin Charles is crowned king of Rheims; + The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; + Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; + The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side. + +EXETER The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! + O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? + +GLOUCESTER We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats. + Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. + +BEDFORD Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? + An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, + Wherewith already France is overrun. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Messenger My gracious lords, to add to your laments, + Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse, + I must inform you of a dismal fight + Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? + +Messenger O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown: + The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. + The tenth of August last this dreadful lord, + Retiring from the siege of Orleans, + Having full scarce six thousand in his troop. + By three and twenty thousand of the French + Was round encompassed and set upon. + No leisure had he to enrank his men; + He wanted pikes to set before his archers; + Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges + They pitched in the ground confusedly, + To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. + More than three hours the fight continued; + Where valiant Talbot above human thought + Enacted wonders with his sword and lance: + Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him; + Here, there, and every where, enraged he flew: + The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; + All the whole army stood agazed on him: + His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit + A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain + And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. + Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up, + If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward: + He, being in the vaward, placed behind + With purpose to relieve and follow them, + Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. + Hence grew the general wreck and massacre; + Enclosed were they with their enemies: + A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace, + Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back, + Whom all France with their chief assembled strength + Durst not presume to look once in the face. + +BEDFORD Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself, + For living idly here in pomp and ease, + Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, + Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. + +Messenger O no, he lives; but is took prisoner, + And Lord Scales with him and Lord Hungerford: + Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise. + +BEDFORD His ransom there is none but I shall pay: + I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne: + His crown shall be the ransom of my friend; + Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. + Farewell, my masters; to my task will I; + Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, + To keep our great Saint George's feast withal: + Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, + Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake. + +Messenger So you had need; for Orleans is besieged; + The English army is grown weak and faint: + The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply, + And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, + Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. + +EXETER Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, + Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, + Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. + +BEDFORD I do remember it; and here take my leave, + To go about my preparation. + + [Exit] + +GLOUCESTER I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can, + To view the artillery and munition; + And then I will proclaim young Henry king. + + [Exit] + +EXETER To Eltham will I, where the young king is, + Being ordain'd his special governor, + And for his safety there I'll best devise. + + [Exit] + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Each hath his place and function to attend: + I am left out; for me nothing remains. + But long I will not be Jack out of office: + The king from Eltham I intend to steal + And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II France. Before Orleans. + + + [Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and + REIGNIER, marching with drum and Soldiers] + +CHARLES Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens + So in the earth, to this day is not known: + Late did he shine upon the English side; + Now we are victors; upon us he smiles. + What towns of any moment but we have? + At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; + Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, + Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. + +ALENCON They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves: + Either they must be dieted like mules + And have their provender tied to their mouths + Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. + +REIGNIER Let's raise the siege: why live we idly here? + Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: + Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury; + And he may well in fretting spend his gall, + Nor men nor money hath he to make war. + +CHARLES Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them. + Now for the honour of the forlorn French! + Him I forgive my death that killeth me + When he sees me go back one foot or fly. + + [Exeunt] + + [Here alarum; they are beaten back by the English + with great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and REIGNIER] + +CHARLES Who ever saw the like? what men have I! + Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled, + But that they left me 'midst my enemies. + +REIGNIER Salisbury is a desperate homicide; + He fighteth as one weary of his life. + The other lords, like lions wanting food, + Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. + +ALENCON Froissart, a countryman of ours, records, + England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, + During the time Edward the Third did reign. + More truly now may this be verified; + For none but Samsons and Goliases + It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! + Lean, raw-boned rascals! who would e'er suppose + They had such courage and audacity? + +CHARLES Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves, + And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: + Of old I know them; rather with their teeth + The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege. + +REIGNIER I think, by some odd gimmors or device + Their arms are set like clocks, stiff to strike on; + Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. + By my consent, we'll even let them alone. + +ALENCON Be it so. + + [Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS] + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him. + +CHARLES Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd: + Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? + Be not dismay'd, for succor is at hand: + A holy maid hither with me I bring, + Which by a vision sent to her from heaven + Ordained is to raise this tedious siege + And drive the English forth the bounds of France. + The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, + Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome: + What's past and what's to come she can descry. + Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, + For they are certain and unfallible. + +CHARLES Go, call her in. + + [Exit BASTARD OF ORLEANS] + + But first, to try her skill, + Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: + Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern: + By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. + + [Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, with JOAN LA PUCELLE] + +REIGNIER Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me? + Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind; + I know thee well, though never seen before. + Be not amazed, there's nothing hid from me: + In private will I talk with thee apart. + Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. + +REIGNIER She takes upon her bravely at first dash. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, + My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. + Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased + To shine on my contemptible estate: + Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, + And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, + God's mother deigned to appear to me + And in a vision full of majesty + Will'd me to leave my base vocation + And free my country from calamity: + Her aid she promised and assured success: + In complete glory she reveal'd herself; + And, whereas I was black and swart before, + With those clear rays which she infused on me + That beauty am I bless'd with which you see. + Ask me what question thou canst possible, + And I will answer unpremeditated: + My courage try by combat, if thou darest, + And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. + Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate, + If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. + +CHARLES Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms: + Only this proof I'll of thy valour make, + In single combat thou shalt buckle with me, + And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; + Otherwise I renounce all confidence. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE I am prepared: here is my keen-edged sword, + Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side; + The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's + churchyard, + Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. + +CHARLES Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man. + + [Here they fight, and JOAN LA PUCELLE overcomes] + +CHARLES Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon + And fightest with the sword of Deborah. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Christ's mother helps me, else I were too weak. + +CHARLES Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me: + Impatiently I burn with thy desire; + My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. + Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, + Let me thy servant and not sovereign be: + 'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE I must not yield to any rites of love, + For my profession's sacred from above: + When I have chased all thy foes from hence, + Then will I think upon a recompense. + +CHARLES Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. + +REIGNIER My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. + +ALENCON Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock; + Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. + +REIGNIER Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? + +ALENCON He may mean more than we poor men do know: + These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. + +REIGNIER My lord, where are you? what devise you on? + Shall we give over Orleans, or no? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! + Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. + +CHARLES What she says I'll confirm: we'll fight it out. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. + This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: + Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days, + Since I have entered into these wars. + Glory is like a circle in the water, + Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself + Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought. + With Henry's death the English circle ends; + Dispersed are the glories it included. + Now am I like that proud insulting ship + Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once. + +CHARLES Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? + Thou with an eagle art inspired then. + Helen, the mother of great Constantine, + Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like thee. + Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth, + How may I reverently worship thee enough? + +ALENCON Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. + +REIGNIER Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; + Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized. + +CHARLES Presently we'll try: come, let's away about it: + No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III London. Before the Tower. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, with his Serving-men in blue coats] + +GLOUCESTER I am come to survey the Tower this day: + Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance. + Where be these warders, that they wait not here? + Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls. + +First Warder [Within] Who's there that knocks so imperiously? + +First Serving-Man It is the noble Duke of Gloucester. + +Second Warder [Within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in. + +First Serving-Man Villains, answer you so the lord protector? + +First Warder [Within] The Lord protect him! so we answer him: + We do no otherwise than we are will'd. + +GLOUCESTER Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine? + There's none protector of the realm but I. + Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize. + Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? + + [Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and + WOODVILE the Lieutenant speaks within] + +WOODVILE What noise is this? what traitors have we here? + +GLOUCESTER Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? + Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter. + +WOODVILE Have patience, noble duke; I may not open; + The Cardinal of Winchester forbids: + From him I have express commandment + That thou nor none of thine shall be let in. + +GLOUCESTER Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizest him 'fore me? + Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, + Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? + Thou art no friend to God or to the king: + Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. + +Serving-Men Open the gates unto the lord protector, + Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly. + + [Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates BISHOP + OF WINCHESTER and his men in tawny coats] + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this? + +GLOUCESTER Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be shut out? + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER I do, thou most usurping proditor, + And not protector, of the king or realm. + +GLOUCESTER Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, + Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord; + Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin: + I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, + If thou proceed in this thy insolence. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot: + This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, + To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. + +GLOUCESTER I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back: + Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth + I'll use to carry thee out of this place. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Do what thou darest; I beard thee to thy face. + +GLOUCESTER What! am I dared and bearded to my face? + Draw, men, for all this privileged place; + Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard, + I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly: + Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat: + In spite of pope or dignities of church, + Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the pope. + +GLOUCESTER Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope! + Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay? + Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array. + Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite! + + [Here GLOUCESTER's men beat out BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER's men, and enter in the hurly- + burly the Mayor of London and his Officers] + +Mayor Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates, + Thus contumeliously should break the peace! + +GLOUCESTER Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs: + Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, + Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens, + One that still motions war and never peace, + O'ercharging your free purses with large fines, + That seeks to overthrow religion, + Because he is protector of the realm, + And would have armour here out of the Tower, + To crown himself king and suppress the prince. + +GLOUCESTER I will not answer thee with words, but blows. + + [Here they skirmish again] + +Mayor Naught rests for me in this tumultuous strife + But to make open proclamation: + Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst, + Cry. + +Officer All manner of men assembled here in arms this day + against God's peace and the king's, we charge and + command you, in his highness' name, to repair to + your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, + handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, + henceforward, upon pain of death. + +GLOUCESTER Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law: + But we shall meet, and break our minds at large. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Gloucester, we will meet; to thy cost, be sure: + Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work. + +Mayor I'll call for clubs, if you will not away. + This cardinal's more haughty than the devil. + +GLOUCESTER Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou mayst. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head; + For I intend to have it ere long. + + [Exeunt, severally, GLOUCESTER and BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER with their Serving-men] + +Mayor See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart. + Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! + I myself fight not once in forty year. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Orleans. + + + [Enter, on the walls, a Master Gunner and his Boy] + +Master-Gunner Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieged, + And how the English have the suburbs won. + +Boy Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, + Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim. + +Master-Gunner But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me: + Chief master-gunner am I of this town; + Something I must do to procure me grace. + The prince's espials have informed me + How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, + Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars + In yonder tower, to overpeer the city, + And thence discover how with most advantage + They may vex us with shot, or with assault. + To intercept this inconvenience, + A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have placed; + And even these three days have I watch'd, + If I could see them. + Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer. + If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word; + And thou shalt find me at the governor's. + + [Exit] + +Boy Father, I warrant you; take you no care; + I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. + + [Exit] + + [Enter, on the turrets, SALISBURY and TALBOT, + GLANSDALE, GARGRAVE, and others] + +SALISBURY Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd! + How wert thou handled being prisoner? + Or by what means got'st thou to be released? + Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top. + +TALBOT The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner + Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles; + For him was I exchanged and ransomed. + But with a baser man of arms by far + Once in contempt they would have barter'd me: + Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death, + Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd. + In fine, redeem'd I was as I desired. + But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart, + Whom with my bare fists I would execute, + If I now had him brought into my power. + +SALISBURY Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd. + +TALBOT With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts. + In open market-place produced they me, + To be a public spectacle to all: + Here, said they, is the terror of the French, + The scarecrow that affrights our children so. + Then broke I from the officers that led me, + And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground, + To hurl at the beholders of my shame: + My grisly countenance made others fly; + None durst come near for fear of sudden death. + In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; + So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread, + That they supposed I could rend bars of steel, + And spurn in pieces posts of adamant: + Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had, + That walked about me every minute-while; + And if I did but stir out of my bed, + Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. + + [Enter the Boy with a linstock] + +SALISBURY I grieve to hear what torments you endured, + But we will be revenged sufficiently + Now it is supper-time in Orleans: + Here, through this grate, I count each one + and view the Frenchmen how they fortify: + Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee. + Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale, + Let me have your express opinions + Where is best place to make our battery next. + +GARGRAVE I think, at the north gate; for there stand lords. + +GLANSDALE And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. + +TALBOT For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, + Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. + + [Here they shoot. SALISBURY and GARGRAVE fall] + +SALISBURY O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners! + +GARGRAVE O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man! + +TALBOT What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us? + Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak: + How farest thou, mirror of all martial men? + One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off! + Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand + That hath contrived this woful tragedy! + In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame; + Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars; + Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up, + His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. + Yet livest thou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth fail, + One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace: + The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. + Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive, + If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands! + Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it. + Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? + Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. + Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort; + Thou shalt not die whiles-- + He beckons with his hand and smiles on me. + As who should say 'When I am dead and gone, + Remember to avenge me on the French.' + Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero, + Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn: + Wretched shall France be only in my name. + + [Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens] + + What stir is this? what tumult's in the heavens? + Whence cometh this alarum and the noise? + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head: + The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, + A holy prophetess new risen up, + Is come with a great power to raise the siege. + + [Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans] + +TALBOT Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan! + It irks his heart he cannot be revenged. + Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you: + Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish, + Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels, + And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. + Convey me Salisbury into his tent, + And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. + + [Alarum. Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V The same. + + + [Here an alarum again: and TALBOT pursueth the + DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA + PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit + after them then re-enter TALBOT] + +TALBOT Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? + Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them: + A woman clad in armour chaseth them. + + [Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE] + + Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee; + Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee: + Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, + And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. + + [Here they fight] + +TALBOT Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? + My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage + And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder. + But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. + + [They fight again] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: + I must go victual Orleans forthwith. + + [A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers] + + O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength. + Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men; + Help Salisbury to make his testament: + This day is ours, as many more shall be. + + [Exit] + +TALBOT My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; + I know not where I am, nor what I do; + A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, + Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists: + So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench + Are from their hives and houses driven away. + They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs; + Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. + + [A short alarum] + + Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight, + Or tear the lions out of England's coat; + Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead: + Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf, + Or horse or oxen from the leopard, + As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. + + [Alarum. Here another skirmish] + + It will not be: retire into your trenches: + You all consented unto Salisbury's death, + For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. + Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans, + In spite of us or aught that we could do. + O, would I were to die with Salisbury! + The shame hereof will make me hide my head. + + [Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat; flourish] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VI The same. + + + [Enter, on the walls, JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, + REIGNIER, ALENCON, and Soldiers] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Advance our waving colours on the walls; + Rescued is Orleans from the English + Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. + +CHARLES Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter, + How shall I honour thee for this success? + Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens + That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next. + France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess! + Recover'd is the town of Orleans: + More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. + +REIGNIER Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town? + Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires + And feast and banquet in the open streets, + To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. + +ALENCON All France will be replete with mirth and joy, + When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. + +CHARLES 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won; + For which I will divide my crown with her, + And all the priests and friars in my realm + Shall in procession sing her endless praise. + A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear + Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was: + In memory of her when she is dead, + Her ashes, in an urn more precious + Than the rich-jewel'd of Darius, + Transported shall be at high festivals + Before the kings and queens of France. + No longer on Saint Denis will we cry, + But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. + Come in, and let us banquet royally, + After this golden day of victory. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Before Orleans. + + + [Enter a Sergeant of a band with two Sentinels] + +Sergeant Sirs, take your places and be vigilant: + If any noise or soldier you perceive + Near to the walls, by some apparent sign + Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. + +First Sentinel Sergeant, you shall. + + [Exit Sergeant] + + Thus are poor servitors, + When others sleep upon their quiet beds, + Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain and cold. + + [Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Forces, with + scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march] + +TALBOT Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, + By whose approach the regions of Artois, + Wallon and Picardy are friends to us, + This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, + Having all day caroused and banqueted: + Embrace we then this opportunity + As fitting best to quittance their deceit + Contrived by art and baleful sorcery. + +BEDFORD Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame, + Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, + To join with witches and the help of hell! + +BURGUNDY Traitors have never other company. + But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure? + +TALBOT A maid, they say. + +BEDFORD A maid! and be so martial! + +BURGUNDY Pray God she prove not masculine ere long, + If underneath the standard of the French + She carry armour as she hath begun. + +TALBOT Well, let them practise and converse with spirits: + God is our fortress, in whose conquering name + Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. + +BEDFORD Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. + +TALBOT Not all together: better far, I guess, + That we do make our entrance several ways; + That, if it chance the one of us do fail, + The other yet may rise against their force. + +BEDFORD Agreed: I'll to yond corner. + +BURGUNDY And I to this. + +TALBOT And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave. + Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right + Of English Henry, shall this night appear + How much in duty I am bound to both. + +Sentinels Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault! + + [Cry: 'St. George,' 'A Talbot.'] + + [The French leap over the walls in their shirts. + Enter, several ways, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, + ALENCON, and REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready] + +ALENCON How now, my lords! what, all unready so? + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped so well. + +REIGNIER 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, + Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors. + +ALENCON Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms, + Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise + More venturous or desperate than this. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. + +REIGNIER If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. + +ALENCON Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard. + + [Enter CHARLES and JOAN LA PUCELLE] + +CHARLES Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? + Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, + Make us partakers of a little gain, + That now our loss might be ten times so much? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend! + At all times will you have my power alike? + Sleeping or waking must I still prevail, + Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? + Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good, + This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. + +CHARLES Duke of Alencon, this was your default, + That, being captain of the watch to-night, + Did look no better to that weighty charge. + +ALENCON Had all your quarters been as safely kept + As that whereof I had the government, + We had not been thus shamefully surprised. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Mine was secure. + +REIGNIER And so was mine, my lord. + +CHARLES And, for myself, most part of all this night, + Within her quarter and mine own precinct + I was employ'd in passing to and fro, + About relieving of the sentinels: + Then how or which way should they first break in? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Question, my lords, no further of the case, + How or which way: 'tis sure they found some place + But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. + And now there rests no other shift but this; + To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispersed, + And lay new platforms to endamage them. + + [Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying 'A + Talbot! a Talbot!' They fly, leaving their + clothes behind] + +Soldier I'll be so bold to take what they have left. + The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; + For I have loaden me with many spoils, + Using no other weapon but his name. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Orleans. Within the town. + + + [Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and others] + +BEDFORD The day begins to break, and night is fled, + Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. + Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. + + [Retreat sounded] + +TALBOT Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, + And here advance it in the market-place, + The middle centre of this cursed town. + Now have I paid my vow unto his soul; + For every drop of blood was drawn from him, + There hath at least five Frenchmen died tonight. + And that hereafter ages may behold + What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, + Within their chiefest temple I'll erect + A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd: + Upon the which, that every one may read, + Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans, + The treacherous manner of his mournful death + And what a terror he had been to France. + But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, + I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, + His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, + Nor any of his false confederates. + +BEDFORD 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began, + Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds, + They did amongst the troops of armed men + Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. + +BURGUNDY Myself, as far as I could well discern + For smoke and dusky vapours of the night, + Am sure I scared the Dauphin and his trull, + When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, + Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves + That could not live asunder day or night. + After that things are set in order here, + We'll follow them with all the power we have. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger All hail, my lords! which of this princely train + Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts + So much applauded through the realm of France? + +TALBOT Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him? + +Messenger The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, + With modesty admiring thy renown, + By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe + To visit her poor castle where she lies, + That she may boast she hath beheld the man + Whose glory fills the world with loud report. + +BURGUNDY Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars + Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, + When ladies crave to be encounter'd with. + You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. + +TALBOT Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men + Could not prevail with all their oratory, + Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled: + And therefore tell her I return great thanks, + And in submission will attend on her. + Will not your honours bear me company? + +BEDFORD No, truly; it is more than manners will: + And I have heard it said, unbidden guests + Are often welcomest when they are gone. + +TALBOT Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, + I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. + Come hither, captain. + + [Whispers] + + You perceive my mind? + +Captain I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Auvergne. The COUNTESS's castle. + + + [Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter] + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Porter, remember what I gave in charge; + And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. + +Porter Madam, I will. + + [Exit] + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, + I shall as famous be by this exploit + As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death. + Great is the rumor of this dreadful knight, + And his achievements of no less account: + Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, + To give their censure of these rare reports. + + [Enter Messenger and TALBOT] + +Messenger Madam, + According as your ladyship desired, + By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE And he is welcome. What! is this the man? + +Messenger Madam, it is. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Is this the scourge of France? + Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad + That with his name the mothers still their babes? + I see report is fabulous and false: + I thought I should have seen some Hercules, + A second Hector, for his grim aspect, + And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. + Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! + It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp + Should strike such terror to his enemies. + +TALBOT Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; + But since your ladyship is not at leisure, + I'll sort some other time to visit you. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes. + +Messenger Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves + To know the cause of your abrupt departure. + +TALBOT Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, + I go to certify her Talbot's here. + + [Re-enter Porter with keys] + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. + +TALBOT Prisoner! to whom? + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE To me, blood-thirsty lord; + And for that cause I trained thee to my house. + Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, + For in my gallery thy picture hangs: + But now the substance shall endure the like, + And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, + That hast by tyranny these many years + Wasted our country, slain our citizens + And sent our sons and husbands captivate. + +TALBOT Ha, ha, ha! + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. + +TALBOT I laugh to see your ladyship so fond + To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow + Whereon to practise your severity. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Why, art not thou the man? + +TALBOT I am indeed. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Then have I substance too. + +TALBOT No, no, I am but shadow of myself: + You are deceived, my substance is not here; + For what you see is but the smallest part + And least proportion of humanity: + I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, + It is of such a spacious lofty pitch, + Your roof were not sufficient to contain't. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; + He will be here, and yet he is not here: + How can these contrarieties agree? + +TALBOT That will I show you presently. + + [Winds his horn. Drums strike up: a peal of + ordnance. Enter soldiers] + + How say you, madam? are you now persuaded + That Talbot is but shadow of himself? + These are his substance, sinews, arms and strength, + With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, + Razeth your cities and subverts your towns + And in a moment makes them desolate. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse: + I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited + And more than may be gather'd by thy shape. + Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; + For I am sorry that with reverence + I did not entertain thee as thou art. + +TALBOT Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue + The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake + The outward composition of his body. + What you have done hath not offended me; + Nor other satisfaction do I crave, + But only, with your patience, that we may + Taste of your wine and see what cates you have; + For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. + +COUNTESS +OF AUVERGNE With all my heart, and think me honoured + To feast so great a warrior in my house. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + +SCENE IV London. The Temple-garden. + + + [Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; + RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another Lawyer] + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? + Dare no man answer in a case of truth? + +SUFFOLK Within the Temple-hall we were too loud; + The garden here is more convenient. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth; + Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error? + +SUFFOLK Faith, I have been a truant in the law, + And never yet could frame my will to it; + And therefore frame the law unto my will. + +SOMERSET Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us. + +WARWICK Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch; + Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth; + Between two blades, which bears the better temper: + Between two horses, which doth bear him best; + Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye; + I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgement; + But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, + Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: + The truth appears so naked on my side + That any purblind eye may find it out. + +SOMERSET And on my side it is so well apparell'd, + So clear, so shining and so evident + That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, + In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: + Let him that is a true-born gentleman + And stands upon the honour of his birth, + If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, + From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. + +SOMERSET Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, + But dare maintain the party of the truth, + Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. + +WARWICK I love no colours, and without all colour + Of base insinuating flattery + I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. + +SUFFOLK I pluck this red rose with young Somerset + And say withal I think he held the right. + +VERNON Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more, + Till you conclude that he upon whose side + The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree + Shall yield the other in the right opinion. + +SOMERSET Good Master Vernon, it is well objected: + If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET And I. + +VERNON Then for the truth and plainness of the case. + I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, + Giving my verdict on the white rose side. + +SOMERSET Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, + Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red + And fall on my side so, against your will. + +VERNON If I my lord, for my opinion bleed, + Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt + And keep me on the side where still I am. + +SOMERSET Well, well, come on: who else? + +Lawyer Unless my study and my books be false, + The argument you held was wrong in you: + + [To SOMERSET] + + In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Now, Somerset, where is your argument? + +SOMERSET Here in my scabbard, meditating that + Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; + For pale they look with fear, as witnessing + The truth on our side. + +SOMERSET No, Plantagenet, + 'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks + Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses, + And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? + +SOMERSET Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; + Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. + +SOMERSET Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses, + That shall maintain what I have said is true, + Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, + I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. + +SUFFOLK Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee. + +SUFFOLK I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. + +SOMERSET Away, away, good William de la Pole! + We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. + +WARWICK Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset; + His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence, + Third son to the third Edward King of England: + Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root? + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET He bears him on the place's privilege, + Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. + +SOMERSET By him that made me, I'll maintain my words + On any plot of ground in Christendom. + Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge, + For treason executed in our late king's days? + And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, + Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? + His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; + And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET My father was attached, not attainted, + Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor; + And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, + Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. + For your partaker Pole and you yourself, + I'll note you in my book of memory, + To scourge you for this apprehension: + Look to it well and say you are well warn'd. + +SOMERSET Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still; + And know us by these colours for thy foes, + For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, + As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, + Will I for ever and my faction wear, + Until it wither with me to my grave + Or flourish to the height of my degree. + +SUFFOLK Go forward and be choked with thy ambition! + And so farewell until I meet thee next. + + [Exit] + +SOMERSET Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard. + + [Exit] + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET How I am braved and must perforce endure it! + +WARWICK This blot that they object against your house + Shall be wiped out in the next parliament + Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester; + And if thou be not then created York, + I will not live to be accounted Warwick. + Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, + Against proud Somerset and William Pole, + Will I upon thy party wear this rose: + And here I prophesy: this brawl to-day, + Grown to this faction in the Temple-garden, + Shall send between the red rose and the white + A thousand souls to death and deadly night. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, + That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. + +VERNON In your behalf still will I wear the same. + +Lawyer And so will I. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Thanks, gentle sir. + Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say + This quarrel will drink blood another day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + +SCENE V The Tower of London. + + + [Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and Gaolers] + +MORTIMER Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, + Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. + Even like a man new haled from the rack, + So fare my limbs with long imprisonment. + And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, + Nestor-like aged in an age of care, + Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. + These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, + Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; + Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening grief, + And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine + That droops his sapless branches to the ground; + Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, + Unable to support this lump of clay, + Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, + As witting I no other comfort have. + But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? + +First Gaoler Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come: + We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber; + And answer was return'd that he will come. + +MORTIMER Enough: my soul shall then be satisfied. + Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. + Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, + Before whose glory I was great in arms, + This loathsome sequestration have I had: + And even since then hath Richard been obscured, + Deprived of honour and inheritance. + But now the arbitrator of despairs, + Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, + With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence: + I would his troubles likewise were expired, + That so he might recover what was lost. + + [Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET] + +First Gaoler My lord, your loving nephew now is come. + +MORTIMER Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used, + Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. + +MORTIMER Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck, + And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: + O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, + That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. + And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, + Why didst thou say, of late thou wert despised? + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET First, lean thine aged back against mine arm; + And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease. + This day, in argument upon a case, + Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me; + Among which terms he used his lavish tongue + And did upbraid me with my father's death: + Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, + Else with the like I had requited him. + Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake, + In honour of a true Plantagenet + And for alliance sake, declare the cause + My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. + +MORTIMER That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me + And hath detain'd me all my flowering youth + Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, + Was cursed instrument of his decease. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Discover more at large what cause that was, + For I am ignorant and cannot guess. + +MORTIMER I will, if that my fading breath permit + And death approach not ere my tale be done. + Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, + Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son, + The first-begotten and the lawful heir, + Of Edward king, the third of that descent: + During whose reign the Percies of the north, + Finding his usurpation most unjust, + Endeavor'd my advancement to the throne: + The reason moved these warlike lords to this + Was, for that--young King Richard thus removed, + Leaving no heir begotten of his body-- + I was the next by birth and parentage; + For by my mother I derived am + From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son + To King Edward the Third; whereas he + From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, + Being but fourth of that heroic line. + But mark: as in this haughty attempt + They laboured to plant the rightful heir, + I lost my liberty and they their lives. + Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, + Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, + Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then derived + From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, + Marrying my sister that thy mother was, + Again in pity of my hard distress + Levied an army, weening to redeem + And have install'd me in the diadem: + But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl + And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, + In whom the tide rested, were suppress'd. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Of which, my lord, your honour is the last. + +MORTIMER True; and thou seest that I no issue have + And that my fainting words do warrant death; + Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather: + But yet be wary in thy studious care. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Thy grave admonishments prevail with me: + But yet, methinks, my father's execution + Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. + +MORTIMER With silence, nephew, be thou politic: + Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, + And like a mountain, not to be removed. + But now thy uncle is removing hence: + As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd + With long continuance in a settled place. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET O, uncle, would some part of my young years + Might but redeem the passage of your age! + +MORTIMER Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer doth + Which giveth many wounds when one will kill. + Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; + Only give order for my funeral: + And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes + And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! + + [Dies] + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! + In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage + And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. + Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; + And what I do imagine let that rest. + Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself + Will see his burial better than his life. + + [Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body of MORTIMER] + + Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, + Choked with ambition of the meaner sort: + And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, + Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house: + I doubt not but with honour to redress; + And therefore haste I to the parliament, + Either to be restored to my blood, + Or make my ill the advantage of my good. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I London. The Parliament-house. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, + WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others. + GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it] + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Comest thou with deep premeditated lines, + With written pamphlets studiously devised, + Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse, + Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, + Do it without invention, suddenly; + As I with sudden and extemporal speech + Purpose to answer what thou canst object. + +GLOUCESTER Presumptuous priest! this place commands my patience, + Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me. + Think not, although in writing I preferr'd + The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, + That therefore I have forged, or am not able + Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: + No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness, + Thy lewd, pestiferous and dissentious pranks, + As very infants prattle of thy pride. + Thou art a most pernicious usurer, + Forward by nature, enemy to peace; + Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems + A man of thy profession and degree; + And for thy treachery, what's more manifest? + In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life, + As well at London bridge as at the Tower. + Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, + The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt + From envious malice of thy swelling heart. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe + To give me hearing what I shall reply. + If I were covetous, ambitious or perverse, + As he will have me, how am I so poor? + Or how haps it I seek not to advance + Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? + And for dissension, who preferreth peace + More than I do?--except I be provoked. + No, my good lords, it is not that offends; + It is not that that hath incensed the duke: + It is, because no one should sway but he; + No one but he should be about the king; + And that engenders thunder in his breast + And makes him roar these accusations forth. + But he shall know I am as good-- + +GLOUCESTER As good! + Thou bastard of my grandfather! + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, + But one imperious in another's throne? + +GLOUCESTER Am I not protector, saucy priest? + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER And am not I a prelate of the church? + +GLOUCESTER Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps + And useth it to patronage his theft. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Unreverent Gloster! + +GLOUCESTER Thou art reverent + Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Rome shall remedy this. + +WARWICK Roam thither, then. + +SOMERSET My lord, it were your duty to forbear. + +WARWICK Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. + +SOMERSET Methinks my lord should be religious + And know the office that belongs to such. + +WARWICK Methinks his lordship should be humbler; + it fitteth not a prelate so to plead. + +SOMERSET Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near. + +WARWICK State holy or unhallow'd, what of that? + Is not his grace protector to the king? + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET [Aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue, + Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should; + Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?' + Else would I have a fling at Winchester. + +KING HENRY VI Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester, + The special watchmen of our English weal, + I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, + To join your hearts in love and amity. + O, what a scandal is it to our crown, + That two such noble peers as ye should jar! + Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell + Civil dissension is a viperous worm + That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. + + [A noise within, 'Down with the tawny-coats!'] + + What tumult's this? + +WARWICK An uproar, I dare warrant, + Begun through malice of the bishop's men. + + [A noise again, 'Stones! stones!' Enter Mayor] + +Mayor O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry, + Pity the city of London, pity us! + The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men, + Forbidden late to carry any weapon, + Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones + And banding themselves in contrary parts + Do pelt so fast at one another's pate + That many have their giddy brains knock'd out: + Our windows are broke down in every street + And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops. + + [Enter Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody pates] + +KING HENRY VI We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, + To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace. + Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife. + +First Serving-man Nay, if we be forbidden stones, + We'll fall to it with our teeth. + +Second Serving-man Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. + + [Skirmish again] + +GLOUCESTER You of my household, leave this peevish broil + And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. + +Third Serving-man My lord, we know your grace to be a man + Just and upright; and, for your royal birth, + Inferior to none but to his majesty: + And ere that we will suffer such a prince, + So kind a father of the commonweal, + To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, + We and our wives and children all will fight + And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes. + +First Serving-man Ay, and the very parings of our nails + Shall pitch a field when we are dead. + + [Begin again] + +GLOUCESTER Stay, stay, I say! + And if you love me, as you say you do, + Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. + +KING HENRY VI O, how this discord doth afflict my soul! + Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold + My sighs and tears and will not once relent? + Who should be pitiful, if you be not? + Or who should study to prefer a peace. + If holy churchmen take delight in broils? + +WARWICK Yield, my lord protector; yield, Winchester; + Except you mean with obstinate repulse + To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm. + You see what mischief and what murder too + Hath been enacted through your enmity; + Then be at peace except ye thirst for blood. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER He shall submit, or I will never yield. + +GLOUCESTER Compassion on the king commands me stoop; + Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest + Should ever get that privilege of me. + +WARWICK Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the duke + Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, + As by his smoothed brows it doth appear: + Why look you still so stern and tragical? + +GLOUCESTER Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. + +KING HENRY VI Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach + That malice was a great and grievous sin; + And will not you maintain the thing you teach, + But prove a chief offender in the same? + +WARWICK Sweet king! the bishop hath a kindly gird. + For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent! + What, shall a child instruct you what to do? + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; + Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.-- + See here, my friends and loving countrymen, + This token serveth for a flag of truce + Betwixt ourselves and all our followers: + So help me God, as I dissemble not! + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER [Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not! + +KING HENRY VI O, loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, + How joyful am I made by this contract! + Away, my masters! trouble us no more; + But join in friendship, as your lords have done. + +First Serving-man Content: I'll to the surgeon's. + +Second Serving-man And so will I. + +Third Serving-man And I will see what physic the tavern affords. + + [Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, &c] + +WARWICK Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, + Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet + We do exhibit to your majesty. + +GLOUCESTER Well urged, my Lord of Warwick: or sweet prince, + And if your grace mark every circumstance, + You have great reason to do Richard right; + Especially for those occasions + At Eltham Place I told your majesty. + +KING HENRY VI And those occasions, uncle, were of force: + Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is + That Richard be restored to his blood. + +WARWICK Let Richard be restored to his blood; + So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. + +KING HENRY VI If Richard will be true, not that alone + But all the whole inheritance I give + That doth belong unto the house of York, + From whence you spring by lineal descent. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Thy humble servant vows obedience + And humble service till the point of death. + +KING HENRY VI Stoop then and set your knee against my foot; + And, in reguerdon of that duty done, + I gird thee with the valiant sword of York: + Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet, + And rise created princely Duke of York. + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall! + And as my duty springs, so perish they + That grudge one thought against your majesty! + +ALL Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York! + +SOMERSET [Aside] Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York! + +GLOUCESTER Now will it best avail your majesty + To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France: + The presence of a king engenders love + Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, + As it disanimates his enemies. + +KING HENRY VI When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes; + For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. + +GLOUCESTER Your ships already are in readiness. + + [Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER] + +EXETER Ay, we may march in England or in France, + Not seeing what is likely to ensue. + This late dissension grown betwixt the peers + Burns under feigned ashes of forged love + And will at last break out into a flame: + As fester'd members rot but by degree, + Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away, + So will this base and envious discord breed. + And now I fear that fatal prophecy + Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth + Was in the mouth of every sucking babe; + That Henry born at Monmouth should win all + And Henry born at Windsor lose all: + Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish + His days may finish ere that hapless time. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II France. Before Rouen. + + + [Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE disguised, with four Soldiers + with sacks upon their backs] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, + Through which our policy must make a breach: + Take heed, be wary how you place your words; + Talk like the vulgar sort of market men + That come to gather money for their corn. + If we have entrance, as I hope we shall, + And that we find the slothful watch but weak, + I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, + That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them. + +First Soldier Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, + And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; + Therefore we'll knock. + + [Knocks] + +Watch [Within] Qui est la? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Paysans, pauvres gens de France; + Poor market folks that come to sell their corn. + +Watch Enter, go in; the market bell is rung. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENCON, + REIGNIER, and forces] + +CHARLES Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! + And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants; + Now she is there, how will she specify + Where is the best and safest passage in? + +REIGNIER By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower; + Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is, + No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd. + + [Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE on the top, thrusting out a + torch burning] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Behold, this is the happy wedding torch + That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, + But burning fatal to the Talbotites! + + [Exit] + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend; + The burning torch in yonder turret stands. + +CHARLES Now shine it like a comet of revenge, + A prophet to the fall of all our foes! + +REIGNIER Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends; + Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently, + And then do execution on the watch. + + [Alarum. Exeunt] + + [An alarum. Enter TALBOT in an excursion] + +TALBOT France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, + If Talbot but survive thy treachery. + Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, + Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, + That hardly we escaped the pride of France. + + [Exit] + + [An alarum: excursions. BEDFORD, brought in sick + in a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without: + within JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD OF ORLEANS, + ALENCON, and REIGNIER, on the walls] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread? + I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast + Before he'll buy again at such a rate: + 'Twas full of darnel; do you like the taste? + +BURGUNDY Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan! + I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own + And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. + +CHARLES Your grace may starve perhaps before that time. + +BEDFORD O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason! + +JOAN LA PUCELLE What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance, + And run a tilt at death within a chair? + +TALBOT Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, + Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours! + Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age + And twit with cowardice a man half dead? + Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, + Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; + If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. + + [The English whisper together in council] + + God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker? + +TALBOT Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Belike your lordship takes us then for fools, + To try if that our own be ours or no. + +TALBOT I speak not to that railing Hecate, + But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest; + Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? + +ALENCON Signior, no. + +TALBOT Signior, hang! base muleters of France! + Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls + And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Away, captains! let's get us from the walls; + For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. + God be wi' you, my lord! we came but to tell you + That we are here. + + [Exeunt from the walls] + +TALBOT And there will we be too, ere it be long, + Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! + Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, + Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France, + Either to get the town again or die: + And I, as sure as English Henry lives + And as his father here was conqueror, + As sure as in this late-betrayed town + Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried, + So sure I swear to get the town or die. + +BURGUNDY My vows are equal partners with thy vows. + +TALBOT But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, + The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord, + We will bestow you in some better place, + Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. + +BEDFORD Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me: + Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen + And will be partner of your weal or woe. + +BURGUNDY Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. + +BEDFORD Not to be gone from hence; for once I read + That stout Pendragon in his litter sick + Came to the field and vanquished his foes: + Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts, + Because I ever found them as myself. + +TALBOT Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! + Then be it so: heavens keep old Bedford safe! + And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, + But gather we our forces out of hand + And set upon our boasting enemy. + + [Exeunt all but BEDFORD and Attendants] + + [An alarum: excursions. Enter FASTOLFE and + a Captain] + +Captain Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste? + +FASTOLFE Whither away! to save myself by flight: + We are like to have the overthrow again. + +Captain What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot? + +FASTOLFE Ay, + All the Talbots in the world, to save my life! + + [Exit] + +Captain Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! + + [Exit] + + [Retreat: excursions. JOAN LA PUCELLE, ALENCON, + and CHARLES fly] + +BEDFORD Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please, + For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. + What is the trust or strength of foolish man? + They that of late were daring with their scoffs + Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. + + [BEDFORD dies, and is carried in by two in his chair] + + [An alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the rest] + +TALBOT Lost, and recover'd in a day again! + This is a double honour, Burgundy: + Yet heavens have glory for this victory! + +BURGUNDY Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy + Enshrines thee in his heart and there erects + Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments. + +TALBOT Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now? + I think her old familiar is asleep: + Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks? + What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief + That such a valiant company are fled. + Now will we take some order in the town, + Placing therein some expert officers, + And then depart to Paris to the king, + For there young Henry with his nobles lie. + +BURGUNDY What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy. + +TALBOT But yet, before we go, let's not forget + The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased, + But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen: + A braver soldier never couched lance, + A gentler heart did never sway in court; + But kings and mightiest potentates must die, + For that's the end of human misery. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The plains near Rouen. + + + [Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENCON, JOAN + LA PUCELLE, and forces] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Dismay not, princes, at this accident, + Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: + Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, + For things that are not to be remedied. + Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while + And like a peacock sweep along his tail; + We'll pull his plumes and take away his train, + If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled. + +CHARLES We have been guided by thee hitherto, + And of thy cunning had no diffidence: + One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Search out thy wit for secret policies, + And we will make thee famous through the world. + +ALENCON We'll set thy statue in some holy place, + And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint: + Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: + By fair persuasions mix'd with sugar'd words + We will entice the Duke of Burgundy + To leave the Talbot and to follow us. + +CHARLES Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, + France were no place for Henry's warriors; + Nor should that nation boast it so with us, + But be extirped from our provinces. + +ALENCON For ever should they be expulsed from France + And not have title of an earldom here. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Your honours shall perceive how I will work + To bring this matter to the wished end. + + [Drum sounds afar off] + + Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive + Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. + + [Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over + at a distance, TALBOT and his forces] + + There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, + And all the troops of English after him. + + [French march. Enter BURGUNDY and forces] + + Now in the rearward comes the duke and his: + Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. + Summon a parley; we will talk with him. + + [Trumpets sound a parley] + +CHARLES A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! + +BURGUNDY Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. + +BURGUNDY What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. + +CHARLES Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! + Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. + +BURGUNDY Speak on; but be not over-tedious. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Look on thy country, look on fertile France, + And see the cities and the towns defaced + By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. + As looks the mother on her lowly babe + When death doth close his tender dying eyes, + See, see the pining malady of France; + Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, + Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast. + O, turn thy edged sword another way; + Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. + One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom + Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore: + Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, + And wash away thy country's stained spots. + +BURGUNDY Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, + Or nature makes me suddenly relent. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, + Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. + Who joint'st thou with but with a lordly nation + That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? + When Talbot hath set footing once in France + And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, + Who then but English Henry will be lord + And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? + Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof, + Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? + And was he not in England prisoner? + But when they heard he was thine enemy, + They set him free without his ransom paid, + In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. + See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen + And joint'st with them will be thy slaughtermen. + Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord: + Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. + +BURGUNDY I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers + Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, + And made me almost yield upon my knees. + Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen, + And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: + My forces and my power of men are yours: + So farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE [Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again! + +CHARLES Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS And doth beget new courage in our breasts. + +ALENCON Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, + And doth deserve a coronet of gold. + +CHARLES Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers, + And seek how we may prejudice the foe. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Paris. The palace. + + + [Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, + EXETER, VERNON BASSET, and others. To them + with his Soldiers, TALBOT] + +TALBOT My gracious prince, and honourable peers, + Hearing of your arrival in this realm, + I have awhile given truce unto my wars, + To do my duty to my sovereign: + In sign, whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim'd + To your obedience fifty fortresses, + Twelve cities and seven walled towns of strength, + Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, + Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet, + And with submissive loyalty of heart + Ascribes the glory of his conquest got + First to my God and next unto your grace. + + [Kneels] + +KING HENRY VI Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester, + That hath so long been resident in France? + +GLOUCESTER Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. + +KING HENRY VI Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord! + When I was young, as yet I am not old, + I do remember how my father said + A stouter champion never handled sword. + Long since we were resolved of your truth, + Your faithful service and your toil in war; + Yet never have you tasted our reward, + Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, + Because till now we never saw your face: + Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts, + We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; + And in our coronation take your place. + + [Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but VERNON and BASSET] + +VERNON Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, + Disgracing of these colours that I wear + In honour of my noble Lord of York: + Darest thou maintain the former words thou spakest? + +BASSET Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage + The envious barking of your saucy tongue + Against my lord the Duke of Somerset. + +VERNON Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. + +BASSET Why, what is he? as good a man as York. + +VERNON Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. + + [Strikes him] + +BASSET Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is such + That whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death, + Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. + But I'll unto his majesty, and crave + I may have liberty to venge this wrong; + When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost. + +VERNON Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; + And, after, meet you sooner than you would. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Paris. A hall of state. + + + [Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, BISHOP OF + WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, + TALBOT, EXETER, the Governor, of Paris, and others] + +GLOUCESTER Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. + +BISHOP +OF WINCHESTER God save King Henry, of that name the sixth! + +GLOUCESTER Now, governor of Paris, take your oath, + That you elect no other king but him; + Esteem none friends but such as are his friends, + And none your foes but such as shall pretend + Malicious practises against his state: + This shall ye do, so help you righteous God! + + [Enter FASTOLFE] + +FASTOLFE My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, + To haste unto your coronation, + A letter was deliver'd to my hands, + Writ to your grace from the Duke of Burgundy. + +TALBOT Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! + I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, + To tear the garter from thy craven's leg, + + [Plucking it off] + + Which I have done, because unworthily + Thou wast installed in that high degree. + Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest + This dastard, at the battle of Patay, + When but in all I was six thousand strong + And that the French were almost ten to one, + Before we met or that a stroke was given, + Like to a trusty squire did run away: + In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; + Myself and divers gentlemen beside + Were there surprised and taken prisoners. + Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; + Or whether that such cowards ought to wear + This ornament of knighthood, yea or no. + +GLOUCESTER To say the truth, this fact was infamous + And ill beseeming any common man, + Much more a knight, a captain and a leader. + +TALBOT When first this order was ordain'd, my lords, + Knights of the garter were of noble birth, + Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, + Such as were grown to credit by the wars; + Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, + But always resolute in most extremes. + He then that is not furnish'd in this sort + Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, + Profaning this most honourable order, + And should, if I were worthy to be judge, + Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain + That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. + +KING HENRY VI Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom! + Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight: + Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death. + + [Exit FASTOLFE] + + And now, my lord protector, view the letter + Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy. + +GLOUCESTER What means his grace, that he hath changed his style? + No more but, plain and bluntly, 'To the king!' + Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? + Or doth this churlish superscription + Pretend some alteration in good will? + What's here? + + [Reads] + + 'I have, upon especial cause, + Moved with compassion of my country's wreck, + Together with the pitiful complaints + Of such as your oppression feeds upon, + Forsaken your pernicious faction + And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.' + O monstrous treachery! can this be so, + That in alliance, amity and oaths, + There should be found such false dissembling guile? + +KING HENRY VI What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? + +GLOUCESTER He doth, my lord, and is become your foe. + +KING HENRY VI Is that the worst this letter doth contain? + +GLOUCESTER It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. + +KING HENRY VI Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall talk with him + And give him chastisement for this abuse. + How say you, my lord? are you not content? + +TALBOT Content, my liege! yes, but that I am prevented, + I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd. + +KING HENRY VI Then gather strength and march unto him straight: + Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason + And what offence it is to flout his friends. + +TALBOT I go, my lord, in heart desiring still + You may behold confusion of your foes. + + [Exit] + + [Enter VERNON and BASSET] + +VERNON Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign. + +BASSET And me, my lord, grant me the combat too. + +YORK This is my servant: hear him, noble prince. + +SOMERSET And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him. + +KING HENRY VI Be patient, lords; and give them leave to speak. + Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim? + And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom? + +VERNON With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong. + +BASSET And I with him; for he hath done me wrong. + +KING HENRY VI What is that wrong whereof you both complain? + First let me know, and then I'll answer you. + +BASSET Crossing the sea from England into France, + This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, + Upbraided me about the rose I wear; + Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves + Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, + When stubbornly he did repugn the truth + About a certain question in the law + Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him; + With other vile and ignominious terms: + In confutation of which rude reproach + And in defence of my lord's worthiness, + I crave the benefit of law of arms. + +VERNON And that is my petition, noble lord: + For though he seem with forged quaint conceit + To set a gloss upon his bold intent, + Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him; + And he first took exceptions at this badge, + Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower + Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart. + +YORK Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? + +SOMERSET Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, + Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. + +KING HENRY VI Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men, + When for so slight and frivolous a cause + Such factious emulations shall arise! + Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, + Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. + +YORK Let this dissension first be tried by fight, + And then your highness shall command a peace. + +SOMERSET The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; + Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. + +YORK There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. + +VERNON Nay, let it rest where it began at first. + +BASSET Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. + +GLOUCESTER Confirm it so! Confounded be your strife! + And perish ye, with your audacious prate! + Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed + With this immodest clamorous outrage + To trouble and disturb the king and us? + And you, my lords, methinks you do not well + To bear with their perverse objections; + Much less to take occasion from their mouths + To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves: + Let me persuade you take a better course. + +EXETER It grieves his highness: good my lords, be friends. + +KING HENRY VI Come hither, you that would be combatants: + Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour, + Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause. + And you, my lords, remember where we are, + In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation: + If they perceive dissension in our looks + And that within ourselves we disagree, + How will their grudging stomachs be provoked + To wilful disobedience, and rebel! + Beside, what infamy will there arise, + When foreign princes shall be certified + That for a toy, a thing of no regard, + King Henry's peers and chief nobility + Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France! + O, think upon the conquest of my father, + My tender years, and let us not forego + That for a trifle that was bought with blood + Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. + I see no reason, if I wear this rose, + + [Putting on a red rose] + + That any one should therefore be suspicious + I more incline to Somerset than York: + Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both: + As well they may upbraid me with my crown, + Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. + But your discretions better can persuade + Than I am able to instruct or teach: + And therefore, as we hither came in peace, + So let us still continue peace and love. + Cousin of York, we institute your grace + To be our regent in these parts of France: + And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite + Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot; + And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, + Go cheerfully together and digest. + Your angry choler on your enemies. + Ourself, my lord protector and the rest + After some respite will return to Calais; + From thence to England; where I hope ere long + To be presented, by your victories, + With Charles, Alencon and that traitorous rout. + + [Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK, EXETER + and VERNON] + +WARWICK My Lord of York, I promise you, the king + Prettily, methought, did play the orator. + +YORK And so he did; but yet I like it not, + In that he wears the badge of Somerset. + +WARWICK Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him not; + I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. + +YORK An if I wist he did,--but let it rest; + Other affairs must now be managed. + + [Exeunt all but EXETER] + +EXETER Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice; + For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, + I fear we should have seen decipher'd there + More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, + Than yet can be imagined or supposed. + But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees + This jarring discord of nobility, + This shouldering of each other in the court, + This factious bandying of their favourites, + But that it doth presage some ill event. + 'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands; + But more when envy breeds unkind division; + There comes the rain, there begins confusion. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Before Bourdeaux. + + + [Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum] + +TALBOT Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter: + Summon their general unto the wall. + + [Trumpet sounds. Enter General and others, aloft] + + English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, + Servant in arms to Harry King of England; + And thus he would: Open your city gates; + Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours, + And do him homage as obedient subjects; + And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power: + But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, + You tempt the fury of my three attendants, + Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; + Who in a moment even with the earth + Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, + If you forsake the offer of their love. + +General Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, + Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge! + The period of thy tyranny approacheth. + On us thou canst not enter but by death; + For, I protest, we are well fortified + And strong enough to issue out and fight: + If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, + Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee: + On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd, + To wall thee from the liberty of flight; + And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, + But death doth front thee with apparent spoil + And pale destruction meets thee in the face. + Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament + To rive their dangerous artillery + Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. + Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, + Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit! + This is the latest glory of thy praise + That I, thy enemy, due thee withal; + For ere the glass, that now begins to run, + Finish the process of his sandy hour, + These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, + Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale and dead. + + [Drum afar off] + + Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, + Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul; + And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. + + [Exeunt General, &c] + +TALBOT He fables not; I hear the enemy: + Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. + O, negligent and heedless discipline! + How are we park'd and bounded in a pale, + A little herd of England's timorous deer, + Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs! + If we be English deer, be then in blood; + Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch, + But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags, + Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel + And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: + Sell every man his life as dear as mine, + And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. + God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right, + Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Plains in Gascony. + + + [Enter a Messenger that meets YORK. Enter YORK + with trumpet and many Soldiers] + +YORK Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, + That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? + +Messenger They are return'd, my lord, and give it out + That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power, + To fight with Talbot: as he march'd along, + By your espials were discovered + Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, + Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux. + +YORK A plague upon that villain Somerset, + That thus delays my promised supply + Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! + Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, + And I am lowted by a traitor villain + And cannot help the noble chevalier: + God comfort him in this necessity! + If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. + + [Enter Sir William LUCY] + +LUCY Thou princely leader of our English strength, + Never so needful on the earth of France, + Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, + Who now is girdled with a waist of iron + And hemm'd about with grim destruction: + To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York! + Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour. + +YORK O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart + Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place! + So should we save a valiant gentleman + By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. + Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep, + That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. + +LUCY O, send some succor to the distress'd lord! + +YORK He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word; + We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; + All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset. + +LUCY Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul; + And on his son young John, who two hours since + I met in travel toward his warlike father! + This seven years did not Talbot see his son; + And now they meet where both their lives are done. + +YORK Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have + To bid his young son welcome to his grave? + Away! vexation almost stops my breath, + That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death. + Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can, + But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. + Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, + 'Long all of Somerset and his delay. + + [Exit, with his soldiers] + +LUCY Thus, while the vulture of sedition + Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, + Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss + The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, + That ever living man of memory, + Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross, + Lives, honours, lands and all hurry to loss. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Other plains in Gascony. + + + [Enter SOMERSET, with his army; a Captain of + TALBOT's with him] + +SOMERSET It is too late; I cannot send them now: + This expedition was by York and Talbot + Too rashly plotted: all our general force + Might with a sally of the very town + Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot + Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour + By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure: + York set him on to fight and die in shame, + That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. + +Captain Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me + Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid. + + [Enter Sir William LUCY] + +SOMERSET How now, Sir William! whither were you sent? + +LUCY Whither, my lord? from bought and sold Lord Talbot; + Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, + Cries out for noble York and Somerset, + To beat assailing death from his weak legions: + And whiles the honourable captain there + Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, + And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue, + You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, + Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. + Let not your private discord keep away + The levied succors that should lend him aid, + While he, renowned noble gentleman, + Yields up his life unto a world of odds: + Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, + Alencon, Reignier, compass him about, + And Talbot perisheth by your default. + +SOMERSET York set him on; York should have sent him aid. + +LUCY And York as fast upon your grace exclaims; + Swearing that you withhold his levied host, + Collected for this expedition. + +SOMERSET York lies; he might have sent and had the horse; + I owe him little duty, and less love; + And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. + +LUCY The fraud of England, not the force of France, + Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot: + Never to England shall he bear his life; + But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. + +SOMERSET Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight: + Within six hours they will be at his aid. + +LUCY Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en or slain; + For fly he could not, if he would have fled; + And fly would Talbot never, though he might. + +SOMERSET If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu! + +LUCY His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V The English camp near Bourdeaux. + + + [Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son] + +TALBOT O young John Talbot! I did send for thee + To tutor thee in stratagems of war, + That Talbot's name might be in thee revived + When sapless age and weak unable limbs + Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. + But, O malignant and ill-boding stars! + Now thou art come unto a feast of death, + A terrible and unavoided danger: + Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse; + And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape + By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone. + +JOHN TALBOT Is my name Talbot? and am I your son? + And shall I fly? O if you love my mother, + Dishonour not her honourable name, + To make a bastard and a slave of me! + The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood, + That basely fled when noble Talbot stood. + +TALBOT Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. + +JOHN TALBOT He that flies so will ne'er return again. + +TALBOT If we both stay, we both are sure to die. + +JOHN TALBOT Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly: + Your loss is great, so your regard should be; + My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. + Upon my death the French can little boast; + In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. + Flight cannot stain the honour you have won; + But mine it will, that no exploit have done: + You fled for vantage, everyone will swear; + But, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear. + There is no hope that ever I will stay, + If the first hour I shrink and run away. + Here on my knee I beg mortality, + Rather than life preserved with infamy. + +TALBOT Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb? + +JOHN TALBOT Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. + +TALBOT Upon my blessing, I command thee go. + +JOHN TALBOT To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. + +TALBOT Part of thy father may be saved in thee. + +JOHN TALBOT No part of him but will be shame in me. + +TALBOT Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. + +JOHN TALBOT Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it? + +TALBOT Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. + +JOHN TALBOT You cannot witness for me, being slain. + If death be so apparent, then both fly. + +TALBOT And leave my followers here to fight and die? + My age was never tainted with such shame. + +JOHN TALBOT And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? + No more can I be sever'd from your side, + Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: + Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I; + For live I will not, if my father die. + +TALBOT Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, + Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. + Come, side by side together live and die. + And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI A field of battle. + + + [Alarum: excursions, wherein JOHN TALBOT is + hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him] + +TALBOT Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight. + The regent hath with Talbot broke his word + And left us to the rage of France his sword. + Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath; + I gave thee life and rescued thee from death. + +JOHN TALBOT O, twice my father, twice am I thy son! + The life thou gavest me first was lost and done, + Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late, + To my determined time thou gavest new date. + +TALBOT When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire, + It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire + Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, + Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage, + Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy, + And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. + The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood + From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood + Of thy first fight, I soon encountered, + And interchanging blows I quickly shed + Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace + Bespoke him thus; 'Contaminated, base + And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, + Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine + Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:' + Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, + Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care, + Art thou not weary, John? how dost thou fare? + Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, + Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry? + Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead: + The help of one stands me in little stead. + O, too much folly is it, well I wot, + To hazard all our lives in one small boat! + If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, + To-morrow I shall die with mickle age: + By me they nothing gain an if I stay; + 'Tis but the shortening of my life one day: + In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, + My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame: + All these and more we hazard by thy stay; + All these are saved if thou wilt fly away. + +JOHN TALBOT The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart; + These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart: + On that advantage, bought with such a shame, + To save a paltry life and slay bright fame, + Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, + The coward horse that bears me fail and die! + And like me to the peasant boys of France, + To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance! + Surely, by all the glory you have won, + An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son: + Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; + If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. + +TALBOT Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete, + Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet: + If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side; + And, commendable proved, let's die in pride. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum: excursions. Enter TALBOT led by a Servant] + +TALBOT Where is my other life? mine own is gone; + O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John? + Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity, + Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee: + When he perceived me shrink and on my knee, + His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, + And, like a hungry lion, did commence + Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience; + But when my angry guardant stood alone, + Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none, + Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart + Suddenly made him from my side to start + Into the clustering battle of the French; + And in that sea of blood my boy did drench + His over-mounting spirit, and there died, + My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. + +Servant O, my dear lord, lo, where your son is borne! + + [Enter Soldiers, with the body of JOHN TALBOT] + +TALBOT Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scorn, + Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, + Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, + Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, + In thy despite shall 'scape mortality. + O, thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death, + Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath! + Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no; + Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe. + Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say, + Had death been French, then death had died to-day. + Come, come and lay him in his father's arms: + My spirit can no longer bear these harms. + Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, + Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. + + [Dies] + + [Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD OF + ORLEANS, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and forces] + +CHARLES Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, + We should have found a bloody day of this. + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood, + Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said: + 'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:' + But, with a proud majestical high scorn, + He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born + To be the pillage of a giglot wench:' + So, rushing in the bowels of the French, + He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. + +BURGUNDY Doubtless he would have made a noble knight; + See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms + Of the most bloody nurser of his harms! + +BASTARD OF ORLEANS Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder + Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. + +CHARLES O, no, forbear! for that which we have fled + During the life, let us not wrong it dead. + + [Enter Sir William LUCY, attended; Herald of the + French preceding] + +LUCY Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, + To know who hath obtained the glory of the day. + +CHARLES On what submissive message art thou sent? + +LUCY Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere French word; + We English warriors wot not what it means. + I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en + And to survey the bodies of the dead. + +CHARLES For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is. + But tell me whom thou seek'st. + +LUCY But where's the great Alcides of the field, + Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, + Created, for his rare success in arms, + Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and Valence; + Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, + Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton, + Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield, + The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge; + Knight of the noble order of Saint George, + Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece; + Great marshal to Henry the Sixth + Of all his wars within the realm of France? + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Here is a silly stately style indeed! + The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, + Writes not so tedious a style as this. + Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles + Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet. + +LUCY Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen's only scourge, + Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? + O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd, + That I in rage might shoot them at your faces! + O, that I could but call these dead to life! + It were enough to fright the realm of France: + Were but his picture left amongst you here, + It would amaze the proudest of you all. + Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence + And give them burial as beseems their worth. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, + He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. + For God's sake let him have 'em; to keep them here, + They would but stink, and putrefy the air. + +CHARLES Go, take their bodies hence. + +LUCY I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be rear'd + A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. + +CHARLES So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt. + And now to Paris, in this conquering vein: + All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I London. The palace. + + + [Sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER] + +KING HENRY VI Have you perused the letters from the pope, + The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac? + +GLOUCESTER I have, my lord: and their intent is this: + They humbly sue unto your excellence + To have a godly peace concluded of + Between the realms of England and of France. + +KING HENRY VI How doth your grace affect their motion? + +GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord; and as the only means + To stop effusion of our Christian blood + And 'stablish quietness on every side. + +KING HENRY VI Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought + It was both impious and unnatural + That such immanity and bloody strife + Should reign among professors of one faith. + +GLOUCESTER Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect + And surer bind this knot of amity, + The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles, + A man of great authority in France, + Proffers his only daughter to your grace + In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. + +KING HENRY VI Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are young! + And fitter is my study and my books + Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. + Yet call the ambassador; and, as you please, + So let them have their answers every one: + I shall be well content with any choice + Tends to God's glory and my country's weal. + + [Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER in Cardinal's habit, + a Legate and two Ambassadors] + +EXETER What! is my Lord of Winchester install'd, + And call'd unto a cardinal's degree? + Then I perceive that will be verified + Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy, + 'If once he come to be a cardinal, + He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.' + +KING HENRY VI My lords ambassadors, your several suits + Have been consider'd and debated on. + And therefore are we certainly resolved + To draw conditions of a friendly peace; + Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean + Shall be transported presently to France. + +GLOUCESTER And for the proffer of my lord your master, + I have inform'd his highness so at large + As liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, + Her beauty and the value of her dower, + He doth intend she shall be England's queen. + +KING HENRY VI In argument and proof of which contract, + Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. + And so, my lord protector, see them guarded + And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd + Commit them to the fortune of the sea. + + [Exeunt all but CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER and Legate] + +CARDINAL +OF WINCHESTER Stay, my lord legate: you shall first receive + The sum of money which I promised + Should be deliver'd to his holiness + For clothing me in these grave ornaments. + +Legate I will attend upon your lordship's leisure. + +CARDINAL +OF WINCHESTER [Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, + Or be inferior to the proudest peer. + Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive + That, neither in birth or for authority, + The bishop will be overborne by thee: + I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee, + Or sack this country with a mutiny. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II France. Plains in Anjou. + + + [Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, BASTARD OF + ORLEANS, REIGNIER, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and forces] + +CHARLES These news, my lord, may cheer our drooping spirits: + 'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt + And turn again unto the warlike French. + +ALENCON Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, + And keep not back your powers in dalliance. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us; + Else, ruin combat with their palaces! + + [Enter Scout] + +Scout Success unto our valiant general, + And happiness to his accomplices! + +CHARLES What tidings send our scouts? I prithee, speak. + +Scout The English army, that divided was + Into two parties, is now conjoined in one, + And means to give you battle presently. + +CHARLES Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is; + But we will presently provide for them. + +BURGUNDY I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there: + Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Of all base passions, fear is most accursed. + Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine, + Let Henry fret and all the world repine. + +CHARLES Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Before Angiers. + + + [Alarum. Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE] + +JOAN LA PUCELLE The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly. + Now help, ye charming spells and periapts; + And ye choice spirits that admonish me + And give me signs of future accidents. + + [Thunder] + + You speedy helpers, that are substitutes + Under the lordly monarch of the north, + Appear and aid me in this enterprise. + + [Enter Fiends] + + This speedy and quick appearance argues proof + Of your accustom'd diligence to me. + Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd + Out of the powerful regions under earth, + Help me this once, that France may get the field. + + [They walk, and speak not] + + O, hold me not with silence over-long! + Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, + I'll lop a member off and give it you + In earnest of further benefit, + So you do condescend to help me now. + + [They hang their heads] + + No hope to have redress? My body shall + Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. + + [They shake their heads] + + Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice + Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? + Then take my soul, my body, soul and all, + Before that England give the French the foil. + + [They depart] + + See, they forsake me! Now the time is come + That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest + And let her head fall into England's lap. + My ancient incantations are too weak, + And hell too strong for me to buckle with: + Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. + + [Exit] + + [Excursions. Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE fighting hand + to hand with YORK JOAN LA PUCELLE is taken. The + French fly] + +YORK Damsel of France, I think I have you fast: + Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms + And try if they can gain your liberty. + A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace! + See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows, + As if with Circe she would change my shape! + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be. + +YORK O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man; + No shape but his can please your dainty eye. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee! + And may ye both be suddenly surprised + By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! + +YORK Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue! + +JOAN LA PUCELLE I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile. + +YORK Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. + + [Exeunt] + + [Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK with MARGARET in his hand] + +SUFFOLK Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. + + [Gazes on her] + + O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly! + For I will touch thee but with reverent hands; + I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, + And lay them gently on thy tender side. + Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. + +MARGARET Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, + The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. + +SUFFOLK An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. + Be not offended, nature's miracle, + Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: + So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, + Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. + Yet, if this servile usage once offend. + Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. + + [She is going] + + O, stay! I have no power to let her pass; + My hand would free her, but my heart says no + As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, + Twinkling another counterfeited beam, + So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. + Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: + I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. + Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself; + Hast not a tongue? is she not here? + Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? + Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such, + Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. + +MARGARET Say, Earl of Suffolk--if thy name be so-- + What ransom must I pay before I pass? + For I perceive I am thy prisoner. + +SUFFOLK How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit, + Before thou make a trial of her love? + +MARGARET Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay? + +SUFFOLK She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd; + She is a woman, therefore to be won. + +MARGARET Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no. + +SUFFOLK Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; + Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? + +MARGARET I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. + +SUFFOLK There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card. + +MARGARET He talks at random; sure, the man is mad. + +SUFFOLK And yet a dispensation may be had. + +MARGARET And yet I would that you would answer me. + +SUFFOLK I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? + Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden thing! + +MARGARET He talks of wood: it is some carpenter. + +SUFFOLK Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, + And peace established between these realms + But there remains a scruple in that too; + For though her father be the King of Naples, + Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, + And our nobility will scorn the match. + +MARGARET Hear ye, captain, are you not at leisure? + +SUFFOLK It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much. + Henry is youthful and will quickly yield. + Madam, I have a secret to reveal. + +MARGARET What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight, + And will not any way dishonour me. + +SUFFOLK Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. + +MARGARET Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French; + And then I need not crave his courtesy. + +SUFFOLK Sweet madam, give me a hearing in a cause-- + +MARGARET Tush, women have been captivate ere now. + +SUFFOLK Lady, wherefore talk you so? + +MARGARET I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo. + +SUFFOLK Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose + Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? + +MARGARET To be a queen in bondage is more vile + Than is a slave in base servility; + For princes should be free. + +SUFFOLK And so shall you, + If happy England's royal king be free. + +MARGARET Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? + +SUFFOLK I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen, + To put a golden sceptre in thy hand + And set a precious crown upon thy head, + If thou wilt condescend to be my-- + +MARGARET What? + +SUFFOLK His love. + +MARGARET I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. + +SUFFOLK No, gentle madam; I unworthy am + To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, + And have no portion in the choice myself. + How say you, madam, are ye so content? + +MARGARET An if my father please, I am content. + +SUFFOLK Then call our captains and our colours forth. + And, madam, at your father's castle walls + We'll crave a parley, to confer with him. + + [A parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on the walls] + + See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner! + +REIGNIER To whom? + +SUFFOLK To me. + +REIGNIER Suffolk, what remedy? + I am a soldier, and unapt to weep, + Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. + +SUFFOLK Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: + Consent, and for thy honour give consent, + Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; + Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto; + And this her easy-held imprisonment + Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty. + +REIGNIER Speaks Suffolk as he thinks? + +SUFFOLK Fair Margaret knows + That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. + +REIGNIER Upon thy princely warrant, I descend + To give thee answer of thy just demand. + + [Exit from the walls] + +SUFFOLK And here I will expect thy coming. + + [Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER, below] + +REIGNIER Welcome, brave earl, into our territories: + Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. + +SUFFOLK Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, + Fit to be made companion with a king: + What answer makes your grace unto my suit? + +REIGNIER Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth + To be the princely bride of such a lord; + Upon condition I may quietly + Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou, + Free from oppression or the stroke of war, + My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. + +SUFFOLK That is her ransom; I deliver her; + And those two counties I will undertake + Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. + +REIGNIER And I again, in Henry's royal name, + As deputy unto that gracious king, + Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. + +SUFFOLK Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, + Because this is in traffic of a king. + + [Aside] + + And yet, methinks, I could be well content + To be mine own attorney in this case. + I'll over then to England with this news, + And make this marriage to be solemnized. + So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe + In golden palaces, as it becomes. + +REIGNIER I do embrace thee, as I would embrace + The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here. + +MARGARET Farewell, my lord: good wishes, praise and prayers + Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. + + [Going] + +SUFFOLK Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret; + No princely commendations to my king? + +MARGARET Such commendations as becomes a maid, + A virgin and his servant, say to him. + +SUFFOLK Words sweetly placed and modestly directed. + But madam, I must trouble you again; + No loving token to his majesty? + +MARGARET Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart, + Never yet taint with love, I send the king. + +SUFFOLK And this withal. + + [Kisses her] + +MARGARET That for thyself: I will not so presume + To send such peevish tokens to a king. + + [Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET] + +SUFFOLK O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay; + Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth; + There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk. + Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise: + Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, + And natural graces that extinguish art; + Repeat their semblance often on the seas, + That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet, + Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. + + [Exit] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Camp of the YORK in Anjou. + + + [Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others] + +YORK Bring forth that sorceress condemn'd to burn. + + [Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd] + +Shepherd Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright! + Have I sought every country far and near, + And, now it is my chance to find thee out, + Must I behold thy timeless cruel death? + Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee! + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch! + I am descended of a gentler blood: + Thou art no father nor no friend of mine. + +Shepherd Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so; + I did beget her, all the parish knows: + Her mother liveth yet, can testify + She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. + +WARWICK Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage? + +YORK This argues what her kind of life hath been, + Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. + +Shepherd Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle! + God knows thou art a collop of my flesh; + And for thy sake have I shed many a tear: + Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man, + Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. + +Shepherd 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest + The morn that I was wedded to her mother. + Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. + Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time + Of thy nativity! I would the milk + Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast, + Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake! + Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, + I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! + Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? + O, burn her, burn her! hanging is too good. + + [Exit] + +YORK Take her away; for she hath lived too long, + To fill the world with vicious qualities. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd: + Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, + But issued from the progeny of kings; + Virtuous and holy; chosen from above, + By inspiration of celestial grace, + To work exceeding miracles on earth. + I never had to do with wicked spirits: + But you, that are polluted with your lusts, + Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, + Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, + Because you want the grace that others have, + You judge it straight a thing impossible + To compass wonders but by help of devils. + No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been + A virgin from her tender infancy, + Chaste and immaculate in very thought; + Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused, + Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. + +YORK Ay, ay: away with her to execution! + +WARWICK And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid, + Spare for no faggots, let there be enow: + Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, + That so her torture may be shortened. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? + Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, + That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. + I am with child, ye bloody homicides: + Murder not then the fruit within my womb, + Although ye hale me to a violent death. + +YORK Now heaven forfend! the holy maid with child! + +WARWICK The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought: + Is all your strict preciseness come to this? + +YORK She and the Dauphin have been juggling: + I did imagine what would be her refuge. + +WARWICK Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live; + Especially since Charles must father it. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE You are deceived; my child is none of his: + It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love. + +YORK Alencon! that notorious Machiavel! + It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE O, give me leave, I have deluded you: + 'Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I named, + But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd. + +WARWICK A married man! that's most intolerable. + +YORK Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well, + There were so many, whom she may accuse. + +WARWICK It's sign she hath been liberal and free. + +YORK And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure. + Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee: + Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. + +JOAN LA PUCELLE Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curse: + May never glorious sun reflex his beams + Upon the country where you make abode; + But darkness and the gloomy shade of death + Environ you, till mischief and despair + Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves! + + [Exit, guarded] + +YORK Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes, + Thou foul accursed minister of hell! + + [Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER, attended] + +CARDINAL +OF WINCHESTER Lord regent, I do greet your excellence + With letters of commission from the king. + For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, + Moved with remorse of these outrageous broils, + Have earnestly implored a general peace + Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; + And here at hand the Dauphin and his train + Approacheth, to confer about some matter. + +YORK Is all our travail turn'd to this effect? + After the slaughter of so many peers, + So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers, + That in this quarrel have been overthrown + And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, + Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? + Have we not lost most part of all the towns, + By treason, falsehood and by treachery, + Our great progenitors had conquered? + O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief + The utter loss of all the realm of France. + +WARWICK Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace, + It shall be with such strict and severe covenants + As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. + + [Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD OF ORLEANS, + REIGNIER, and others] + +CHARLES Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed + That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, + We come to be informed by yourselves + What the conditions of that league must be. + +YORK Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes + The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, + By sight of these our baleful enemies. + +CARDINAL +OF WINCHESTER Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: + That, in regard King Henry gives consent, + Of mere compassion and of lenity, + To ease your country of distressful war, + And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, + You shall become true liegemen to his crown: + And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear + To pay him tribute, submit thyself, + Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, + And still enjoy thy regal dignity. + +ALENCON Must he be then as shadow of himself? + Adorn his temples with a coronet, + And yet, in substance and authority, + Retain but privilege of a private man? + This proffer is absurd and reasonless. + +CHARLES 'Tis known already that I am possess'd + With more than half the Gallian territories, + And therein reverenced for their lawful king: + Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, + Detract so much from that prerogative, + As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole? + No, lord ambassador, I'll rather keep + That which I have than, coveting for more, + Be cast from possibility of all. + +YORK Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret means + Used intercession to obtain a league, + And, now the matter grows to compromise, + Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? + Either accept the title thou usurp'st, + Of benefit proceeding from our king + And not of any challenge of desert, + Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. + +REIGNIER My lord, you do not well in obstinacy + To cavil in the course of this contract: + If once it be neglected, ten to one + We shall not find like opportunity. + +ALENCON To say the truth, it is your policy + To save your subjects from such massacre + And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen + By our proceeding in hostility; + And therefore take this compact of a truce, + Although you break it when your pleasure serves. + +WARWICK How say'st thou, Charles? shall our condition stand? + +CHARLES It shall; + Only reserved, you claim no interest + In any of our towns of garrison. + +YORK Then swear allegiance to his majesty, + As thou art knight, never to disobey + Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, + Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. + So, now dismiss your army when ye please: + Hang up your ensign, let your drums be still, + For here we entertain a solemn peace. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 1 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V London. The palace. + + + [Enter SUFFOLK in conference with KING HENRY VI, + GLOUCESTER and EXETER] + +KING HENRY VI Your wondrous rare description, noble earl, + Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me: + Her virtues graced with external gifts + Do breed love's settled passions in my heart: + And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts + Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, + So am I driven by breath of her renown + Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive + Where I may have fruition of her love. + +SUFFOLK Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale + Is but a preface of her worthy praise; + The chief perfections of that lovely dame + Had I sufficient skill to utter them, + Would make a volume of enticing lines, + Able to ravish any dull conceit: + And, which is more, she is not so divine, + So full-replete with choice of all delights, + But with as humble lowliness of mind + She is content to be at your command; + Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, + To love and honour Henry as her lord. + +KING HENRY VI And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume. + Therefore, my lord protector, give consent + That Margaret may be England's royal queen. + +GLOUCESTER So should I give consent to flatter sin. + You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd + Unto another lady of esteem: + How shall we then dispense with that contract, + And not deface your honour with reproach? + +SUFFOLK As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; + Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd + To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists + By reason of his adversary's odds: + A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, + And therefore may be broke without offence. + +GLOUCESTER Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that? + Her father is no better than an earl, + Although in glorious titles he excel. + +SUFFOLK Yes, lord, her father is a king, + The King of Naples and Jerusalem; + And of such great authority in France + As his alliance will confirm our peace + And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. + +GLOUCESTER And so the Earl of Armagnac may do, + Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. + +EXETER Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, + Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. + +SUFFOLK A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king, + That he should be so abject, base and poor, + To choose for wealth and not for perfect love. + Henry is able to enrich his queen + And not seek a queen to make him rich: + So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, + As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. + Marriage is a matter of more worth + Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; + Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, + Must be companion of his nuptial bed: + And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, + It most of all these reasons bindeth us, + In our opinions she should be preferr'd. + For what is wedlock forced but a hell, + An age of discord and continual strife? + Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, + And is a pattern of celestial peace. + Whom should we match with Henry, being a king, + But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? + Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, + Approves her fit for none but for a king: + Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit, + More than in women commonly is seen, + Will answer our hope in issue of a king; + For Henry, son unto a conqueror, + Is likely to beget more conquerors, + If with a lady of so high resolve + As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. + Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me + That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. + +KING HENRY VI Whether it be through force of your report, + My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that + My tender youth was never yet attaint + With any passion of inflaming love, + I cannot tell; but this I am assured, + I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, + Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, + As I am sick with working of my thoughts. + Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France; + Agree to any covenants, and procure + That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come + To cross the seas to England and be crown'd + King Henry's faithful and anointed queen: + For your expenses and sufficient charge, + Among the people gather up a tenth. + Be gone, I say; for, till you do return, + I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. + And you, good uncle, banish all offence: + If you do censure me by what you were, + Not what you are, I know it will excuse + This sudden execution of my will. + And so, conduct me where, from company, + I may revolve and ruminate my grief. + + [Exit] + +GLOUCESTER Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. + + [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EXETER] + +SUFFOLK Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes, + As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, + With hope to find the like event in love, + But prosper better than the Trojan did. + Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king; + But I will rule both her, the king and realm. + + [Exit] + 2 KING HENRY IV + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +RUMOUR the Presenter. + +KING HENRY the Fourth. (KING HENRY IV:) + + +PRINCE HENRY | +OF WALES (PRINCE HENRY:) | + afterwards KING HENRY V. | + | +THOMAS, DUKE OF | sons of King Henry. +CLARENCE (CLARENCE:) | + | +PRINCE HUMPHREY | +OF GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:) | + + +EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:) + +EARL OF +WESTMORELAND (WESTMORELAND:) + +EARL OF SURREY: + +GOWER: + +HARCOURT: + +BLUNT: + + Lord Chief-Justice of the King's Bench: + (Lord Chief-Justice:) + + A Servant of the Chief-Justice. + +EARL OF +NORTHUMBERLAND (NORTHUMBERLAND:) + +SCROOP, +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:) + +LORD MOWBRAY (MOWBRAY:) + +LORD HASTINGS (HASTINGS:) + +LORD BARDOLPH: + +SIR JOHN COLEVILE (COLEVILE:) + + +TRAVERS | + | retainers of Northumberland. +MORTON | + + +SIR JOHN FALSTAFF (FALSTAFF:) + + His Page. (Page:) + +BARDOLPH: + +PISTOL: + +POINS: + +PETO: + + +SHALLOW | + | country justices. +SILENCE | + + +DAVY servant to Shallow. + + +MOULDY | + | +SHADOW | + | +WART | recruits. + | +FEEBLE | + | +BULLCALF | + + +FANG | + | sheriff's officers. +SNARE | + + +LADY +NORTHUMBERLAND: + +LADY PERCY: + +MISTRESS QUICKLY hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. + +DOLL TEARSHEET: + + Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, + Beadles, Grooms, &c. + (First Messenger:) + (Porter:) + (First Drawer:) + (Second Drawer:) + (First Beadle:) + (First Groom:) + (Second Groom:) + + A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. + + +SCENE England. + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + INDUCTION + + + [Warkworth. Before the castle] + + [Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues] + +RUMOUR Open your ears; for which of you will stop + The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? + I, from the orient to the drooping west, + Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold + The acts commenced on this ball of earth: + Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, + The which in every language I pronounce, + Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. + I speak of peace, while covert enmity + Under the smile of safety wounds the world: + And who but Rumour, who but only I, + Make fearful musters and prepared defence, + Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, + Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, + And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe + Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures + And of so easy and so plain a stop + That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, + The still-discordant wavering multitude, + Can play upon it. But what need I thus + My well-known body to anatomize + Among my household? Why is Rumour here? + I run before King Harry's victory; + Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury + Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, + Quenching the flame of bold rebellion + Even with the rebel's blood. But what mean I + To speak so true at first? my office is + To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell + Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword, + And that the king before the Douglas' rage + Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. + This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns + Between that royal field of Shrewsbury + And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, + Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland, + Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on, + And not a man of them brings other news + Than they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tongues + They bring smooth comforts false, worse than + true wrongs. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I The same. + + + [Enter LORD BARDOLPH] + +LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho? + + [The Porter opens the gate] + + Where is the earl? + +Porter What shall I say you are? + +LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the earl + That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. + +Porter His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard; + Please it your honour, knock but at the gate, + And he himself wilt answer. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] + +LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the earl. + + [Exit Porter] + +NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now + Should be the father of some stratagem: + The times are wild: contention, like a horse + Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose + And bears down all before him. + +LORD BARDOLPH Noble earl, + I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will! + +LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish: + The king is almost wounded to the death; + And, in the fortune of my lord your son, + Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts + Kill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John + And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field; + And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir John, + Is prisoner to your son: O, such a day, + So fought, so follow'd and so fairly won, + Came not till now to dignify the times, + Since Caesar's fortunes! + +NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived? + Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury? + +LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, + A gentleman well bred and of good name, + That freely render'd me these news for true. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent + On Tuesday last to listen after news. + + [Enter TRAVERS] + +LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I over-rode him on the way; + And he is furnish'd with no certainties + More than he haply may retail from me. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? + +TRAVERS My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back + With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed, + Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard + A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, + That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. + He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him + I did demand what news from Shrewsbury: + He told me that rebellion had bad luck + And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold. + With that, he gave his able horse the head, + And bending forward struck his armed heels + Against the panting sides of his poor jade + Up to the rowel-head, and starting so + He seem'd in running to devour the way, + Staying no longer question. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Ha! Again: + Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold? + Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellion + Had met ill luck? + +LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I'll tell you what; + If my young lord your son have not the day, + Upon mine honour, for a silken point + I'll give my barony: never talk of it. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers + Give then such instances of loss? + +LORD BARDOLPH Who, he? + He was some hilding fellow that had stolen + The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, + Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. + + [Enter MORTON] + +NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf, + Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: + So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood + Hath left a witness'd usurpation. + Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? + +MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; + Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask + To fright our party. + +NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother? + Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek + Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. + Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, + So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, + Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, + And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; + But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, + And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. + This thou wouldst say, 'Your son did thus and thus; + Your brother thus: so fought the noble Douglas:' + Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: + But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, + Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, + Ending with 'Brother, son, and all are dead.' + +MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; + But, for my lord your son-- + +NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead. + See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! + He that but fears the thing he would not know + Hath by instinct knowledge from others' eyes + That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; + Tell thou an earl his divination lies, + And I will take it as a sweet disgrace + And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. + +MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid: + Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's dead. + I see a strange confession in thine eye: + Thou shakest thy head and hold'st it fear or sin + To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so; + The tongue offends not that reports his death: + And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, + Not he which says the dead is not alive. + Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news + Hath but a losing office, and his tongue + Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, + Remember'd tolling a departing friend. + +LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. + +MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe + That which I would to God I had not seen; + But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, + Rendering faint quittance, wearied and out-breathed, + To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down + The never-daunted Percy to the earth, + From whence with life he never more sprung up. + In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire + Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, + Being bruited once, took fire and heat away + From the best temper'd courage in his troops; + For from his metal was his party steel'd; + Which once in him abated, all the rest + Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead: + And as the thing that's heavy in itself, + Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, + So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss, + Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear + That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim + Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, + Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester + Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot, + The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword + Had three times slain the appearance of the king, + 'Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame + Of those that turn'd their backs, and in his flight, + Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all + Is that the king hath won, and hath sent out + A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, + Under the conduct of young Lancaster + And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. + +NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn. + In poison there is physic; and these news, + Having been well, that would have made me sick, + Being sick, have in some measure made me well: + And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, + Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, + Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire + Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs, + Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with grief, + Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch! + A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel + Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif! + Thou art a guard too wanton for the head + Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. + Now bind my brows with iron; and approach + The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring + To frown upon the enraged Northumberland! + Let heaven kiss earth! now let not Nature's hand + Keep the wild flood confined! let order die! + And let this world no longer be a stage + To feed contention in a lingering act; + But let one spirit of the first-born Cain + Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set + On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, + And darkness be the burier of the dead! + +TRAVERS This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord. + +LORD BARDOLPH Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. + +MORTON The lives of all your loving complices + Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er + To stormy passion, must perforce decay. + You cast the event of war, my noble lord, + And summ'd the account of chance, before you said + 'Let us make head.' It was your presurmise, + That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop: + You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, + More likely to fall in than to get o'er; + You were advised his flesh was capable + Of wounds and scars and that his forward spirit + Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged: + Yet did you say 'Go forth;' and none of this, + Though strongly apprehended, could restrain + The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen, + Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, + More than that being which was like to be? + +LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engaged to this loss + Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas + That if we wrought our life 'twas ten to one; + And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed + Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd; + And since we are o'erset, venture again. + Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. + +MORTON 'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord, + I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, + The gentle Archbishop of York is up + With well-appointed powers: he is a man + Who with a double surety binds his followers. + My lord your son had only but the corpse, + But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; + For that same word, rebellion, did divide + The action of their bodies from their souls; + And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd, + As men drink potions, that their weapons only + Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls, + This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, + As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop + Turns insurrection to religion: + Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, + He's followed both with body and with mind; + And doth enlarge his rising with the blood + Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones; + Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; + Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, + Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; + And more and less do flock to follow him. + +NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, + This present grief had wiped it from my mind. + Go in with me; and counsel every man + The aptest way for safety and revenge: + Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed: + Never so few, and never yet more need. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II London. A street. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF, with his Page bearing his sword + and buckler] + +FALSTAFF Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? + +Page He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy + water; but, for the party that owed it, he might + have more diseases than he knew for. + +FALSTAFF Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the + brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not + able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more + than I invent or is invented on me: I am not only + witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other + men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that + hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the + prince put thee into my service for any other reason + than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. + Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn + in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never + manned with an agate till now: but I will inset you + neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and + send you back again to your master, for a jewel,-- + the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is + not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in + the palm of my hand than he shall get one on his + cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is + a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tis + not a hair amiss yet: he may keep it still at a + face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence + out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had + writ man ever since his father was a bachelor. He + may keep his own grace, but he's almost out of mine, + I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about + the satin for my short cloak and my slops? + +Page He said, sir, you should procure him better + assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his + band and yours; he liked not the security. + +FALSTAFF Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his + tongue be hotter! A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally + yea-forsooth knave! to bear a gentleman in hand, + and then stand upon security! The whoreson + smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and + bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is + through with them in honest taking up, then they + must stand upon security. I had as lief they would + put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with + security. I looked a' should have sent me two and + twenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he + sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security; + for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness + of his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he + see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. + Where's Bardolph? + +Page He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse. + +FALSTAFF I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in + Smithfield: an I could get me but a wife in the + stews, I were manned, horsed, and wived. + + [Enter the Lord Chief-Justice and Servant] + +Page Sir, here comes the nobleman that committed the + Prince for striking him about Bardolph. + +FALSTAFF Wait, close; I will not see him. + +Lord Chief-Justice What's he that goes there? + +Servant Falstaff, an't please your lordship. + +Lord Chief-Justice He that was in question for the robbery? + +Servant He, my lord: but he hath since done good service at + Shrewsbury; and, as I hear, is now going with some + charge to the Lord John of Lancaster. + +Lord Chief-Justice What, to York? Call him back again. + +Servant Sir John Falstaff! + +FALSTAFF Boy, tell him I am deaf. + +Page You must speak louder; my master is deaf. + +Lord Chief-Justice I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. + Go, pluck him by the elbow; I must speak with him. + +Servant Sir John! + +FALSTAFF What! a young knave, and begging! Is there not + wars? is there not employment? doth not the king + lack subjects? do not the rebels need soldiers? + Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it + is worse shame to beg than to be on the worst side, + were it worse than the name of rebellion can tell + how to make it. + +Servant You mistake me, sir. + +FALSTAFF Why, sir, did I say you were an honest man? setting + my knighthood and my soldiership aside, I had lied + in my throat, if I had said so. + +Servant I pray you, sir, then set your knighthood and our + soldiership aside; and give me leave to tell you, + you lie in your throat, if you say I am any other + than an honest man. + +FALSTAFF I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay aside that + which grows to me! if thou gettest any leave of me, + hang me; if thou takest leave, thou wert better be + hanged. You hunt counter: hence! avaunt! + +Servant Sir, my lord would speak with you. + +Lord Chief-Justice Sir John Falstaff, a word with you. + +FALSTAFF My good lord! God give your lordship good time of + day. I am glad to see your lordship abroad: I heard + say your lordship was sick: I hope your lordship + goes abroad by advice. Your lordship, though not + clean past your youth, hath yet some smack of age in + you, some relish of the saltness of time; and I must + humbly beseech your lordship to have a reverent care + of your health. + +Lord Chief-Justice Sir John, I sent for you before your expedition to + Shrewsbury. + +FALSTAFF An't please your lordship, I hear his majesty is + returned with some discomfort from Wales. + +Lord Chief-Justice I talk not of his majesty: you would not come when + I sent for you. + +FALSTAFF And I hear, moreover, his highness is fallen into + this same whoreson apoplexy. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, God mend him! I pray you, let me speak with + you. + +FALSTAFF This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy, + an't please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the + blood, a whoreson tingling. + +Lord Chief-Justice What tell you me of it? be it as it is. + +FALSTAFF It hath its original from much grief, from study and + perturbation of the brain: I have read the cause of + his effects in Galen: it is a kind of deafness. + +Lord Chief-Justice I think you are fallen into the disease; for you + hear not what I say to you. + +FALSTAFF Very well, my lord, very well: rather, an't please + you, it is the disease of not listening, the malady + of not marking, that I am troubled withal. + +Lord Chief-Justice To punish you by the heels would amend the + attention of your ears; and I care not if I do + become your physician. + +FALSTAFF I am as poor as Job, my lord, but not so patient: + your lordship may minister the potion of + imprisonment to me in respect of poverty; but how + should I be your patient to follow your + prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a + scruple, or indeed a scruple itself. + +Lord Chief-Justice I sent for you, when there were matters against you + for your life, to come speak with me. + +FALSTAFF As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the + laws of this land-service, I did not come. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy. + +FALSTAFF He that buckles him in my belt cannot live in less. + +Lord Chief-Justice Your means are very slender, and your waste is great. + +FALSTAFF I would it were otherwise; I would my means were + greater, and my waist slenderer. + +Lord Chief-Justice You have misled the youthful prince. + +FALSTAFF The young prince hath misled me: I am the fellow + with the great belly, and he my dog. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, I am loath to gall a new-healed wound: your + day's service at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded + over your night's exploit on Gad's-hill: you may + thank the unquiet time for your quiet o'er-posting + that action. + +FALSTAFF My lord? + +Lord Chief-Justice But since all is well, keep it so: wake not a + sleeping wolf. + +FALSTAFF To wake a wolf is as bad as to smell a fox. + +Lord Chief-Justice What! you are as a candle, the better part burnt + out. + +FALSTAFF A wassail candle, my lord, all tallow: if I did say + of wax, my growth would approve the truth. + +Lord Chief-Justice There is not a white hair on your face but should + have his effect of gravity. + +FALSTAFF His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. + +Lord Chief-Justice You follow the young prince up and down, like his + ill angel. + +FALSTAFF Not so, my lord; your ill angel is light; but I hope + he that looks upon me will take me without weighing: + and yet, in some respects, I grant, I cannot go: I + cannot tell. Virtue is of so little regard in these + costermonger times that true valour is turned + bear-herd: pregnancy is made a tapster, and hath + his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings: all the + other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of + this age shapes them, are not worth a gooseberry. + You that are old consider not the capacities of us + that are young; you do measure the heat of our + livers with the bitterness of your galls: and we + that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, + are wags too. + +Lord Chief-Justice Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, + that are written down old with all the characters of + age? Have you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a + yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an + increasing belly? is not your voice broken? your + wind short? your chin double? your wit single? and + every part about you blasted with antiquity? and + will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! + +FALSTAFF My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the + afternoon, with a white head and something a round + belly. For my voice, I have lost it with halloing + and singing of anthems. To approve my youth + further, I will not: the truth is, I am only old in + judgment and understanding; and he that will caper + with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the + money, and have at him! For the box of the ear that + the prince gave you, he gave it like a rude prince, + and you took it like a sensible lord. I have + chequed him for it, and the young lion repents; + marry, not in ashes and sackcloth, but in new silk + and old sack. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, God send the prince a better companion! + +FALSTAFF God send the companion a better prince! I cannot + rid my hands of him. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, the king hath severed you and Prince Harry: I + hear you are going with Lord John of Lancaster + against the Archbishop and the Earl of + Northumberland. + +FALSTAFF Yea; I thank your pretty sweet wit for it. But look + you pray, all you that kiss my lady Peace at home, + that our armies join not in a hot day; for, by the + Lord, I take but two shirts out with me, and I mean + not to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, + and I brandish any thing but a bottle, I would I + might never spit white again. There is not a + dangerous action can peep out his head but I am + thrust upon it: well, I cannot last ever: but it + was alway yet the trick of our English nation, if + they have a good thing, to make it too common. If + ye will needs say I am an old man, you should give + me rest. I would to God my name were not so + terrible to the enemy as it is: I were better to be + eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to + nothing with perpetual motion. + +Lord Chief-Justice Well, be honest, be honest; and God bless your + expedition! + +FALSTAFF Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound to + furnish me forth? + +Lord Chief-Justice Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to + bear crosses. Fare you well: commend me to my + cousin Westmoreland. + + [Exeunt Chief-Justice and Servant] + +FALSTAFF If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man + can no more separate age and covetousness than a' + can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout + galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and + so both the degrees prevent my curses. Boy! + +Page Sir? + +FALSTAFF What money is in my purse? + +Page Seven groats and two pence. + +FALSTAFF I can get no remedy against this consumption of the + purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, + but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter + to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this + to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old + Mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry + since I perceived the first white hair on my chin. + About it: you know where to find me. + + [Exit Page] + + A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for + the one or the other plays the rogue with my great + toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I have the wars + for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more + reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: + I will turn diseases to commodity. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III York. The Archbishop's palace. + + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the Lords HASTINGS, + MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Thus have you heard our cause and known our means; + And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, + Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes: + And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? + +MOWBRAY I well allow the occasion of our arms; + But gladly would be better satisfied + How in our means we should advance ourselves + To look with forehead bold and big enough + Upon the power and puissance of the king. + +HASTINGS Our present musters grow upon the file + To five and twenty thousand men of choice; + And our supplies live largely in the hope + Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns + With an incensed fire of injuries. + +LORD BARDOLPH The question then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus; + Whether our present five and twenty thousand + May hold up head without Northumberland? + +HASTINGS With him, we may. + +LORD BARDOLPH Yea, marry, there's the point: + But if without him we be thought too feeble, + My judgment is, we should not step too far + Till we had his assistance by the hand; + For in a theme so bloody-faced as this + Conjecture, expectation, and surmise + Of aids incertain should not be admitted. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed + It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. + +LORD BARDOLPH It was, my lord; who lined himself with hope, + Eating the air on promise of supply, + Flattering himself in project of a power + Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts: + And so, with great imagination + Proper to madmen, led his powers to death + And winking leap'd into destruction. + +HASTINGS But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt + To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. + +LORD BARDOLPH Yes, if this present quality of war, + Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot + Lives so in hope as in an early spring + We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit, + Hope gives not so much warrant as despair + That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, + We first survey the plot, then draw the model; + And when we see the figure of the house, + Then must we rate the cost of the erection; + Which if we find outweighs ability, + What do we then but draw anew the model + In fewer offices, or at last desist + To build at all? Much more, in this great work, + Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down + And set another up, should we survey + The plot of situation and the model, + Consent upon a sure foundation, + Question surveyors, know our own estate, + How able such a work to undergo, + To weigh against his opposite; or else + We fortify in paper and in figures, + Using the names of men instead of men: + Like one that draws the model of a house + Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, + Gives o'er and leaves his part-created cost + A naked subject to the weeping clouds + And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. + +HASTINGS Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, + Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd + The utmost man of expectation, + I think we are a body strong enough, + Even as we are, to equal with the king. + +LORD BARDOLPH What, is the king but five and twenty thousand? + +HASTINGS To us no more; nay, not so much, Lord Bardolph. + For his divisions, as the times do brawl, + Are in three heads: one power against the French, + And one against Glendower; perforce a third + Must take up us: so is the unfirm king + In three divided; and his coffers sound + With hollow poverty and emptiness. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK That he should draw his several strengths together + And come against us in full puissance, + Need not be dreaded. + +HASTINGS If he should do so, + He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh + Baying him at the heels: never fear that. + +LORD BARDOLPH Who is it like should lead his forces hither? + +HASTINGS The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland; + Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth: + But who is substituted 'gainst the French, + I have no certain notice. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Let us on, + And publish the occasion of our arms. + The commonwealth is sick of their own choice; + Their over-greedy love hath surfeited: + An habitation giddy and unsure + Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. + O thou fond many, with what loud applause + Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, + Before he was what thou wouldst have him be! + And being now trimm'd in thine own desires, + Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, + That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. + So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge + Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; + And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, + And howl'st to find it. What trust is in + these times? + They that, when Richard lived, would have him die, + Are now become enamour'd on his grave: + Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head + When through proud London he came sighing on + After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, + Criest now 'O earth, yield us that king again, + And take thou this!' O thoughts of men accursed! + Past and to come seems best; things present worst. + +MOWBRAY Shall we go draw our numbers and set on? + +HASTINGS We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I London. A street. + + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY, FANG and his Boy with her, + and SNARE following. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Master Fang, have you entered the action? + +FANG It is entered. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Where's your yeoman? Is't a lusty yeoman? will a' + stand to 't? + +FANG Sirrah, where's Snare? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O Lord, ay! good Master Snare. + +SNARE Here, here. + +FANG Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Yea, good Master Snare; I have entered him and all. + +SNARE It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabbed me in + mine own house, and that most beastly: in good + faith, he cares not what mischief he does. If his + weapon be out: he will foin like any devil; he will + spare neither man, woman, nor child. + +FANG If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow. + +FANG An I but fist him once; an a' come but within my vice,-- + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an + infinitive thing upon my score. Good Master Fang, + hold him sure: good Master Snare, let him not + 'scape. A' comes continuantly to Pie-corner--saving + your manhoods--to buy a saddle; and he is indited to + dinner to the Lubber's-head in Lumbert street, to + Master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my + exion is entered and my case so openly known to the + world, let him be brought in to his answer. A + hundred mark is a long one for a poor lone woman to + bear: and I have borne, and borne, and borne, and + have been fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed + off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame + to be thought on. There is no honesty in such + dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass and a + beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Yonder he + comes; and that errant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, + with him. Do your offices, do your offices: Master + Fang and Master Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices. + + [Enter FALSTAFF, Page, and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF How now! whose mare's dead? what's the matter? + +FANG Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of Mistress Quickly. + +FALSTAFF Away, varlets! Draw, Bardolph: cut me off the + villain's head: throw the quean in the channel. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Throw me in the channel! I'll throw thee in the + channel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly + rogue! Murder, murder! Ah, thou honeysuckle + villain! wilt thou kill God's officers and the + king's? Ah, thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a + honey-seed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller. + +FALSTAFF Keep them off, Bardolph. + +FANG A rescue! a rescue! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Good people, bring a rescue or two. Thou wo't, wo't + thou? Thou wo't, wo't ta? do, do, thou rogue! do, + thou hemp-seed! + +FALSTAFF Away, you scullion! you rampallion! You + fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. + + [Enter the Lord Chief-Justice, and his men] + +Lord Chief-Justice What is the matter? keep the peace here, ho! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Good my lord, be good to me. I beseech you, stand to me. + +Lord Chief-Justice How now, Sir John! what are you brawling here? + Doth this become your place, your time and business? + You should have been well on your way to York. + Stand from him, fellow: wherefore hang'st upon him? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am + a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. + +Lord Chief-Justice For what sum? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all, + all I have. He hath eaten me out of house and home; + he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of + his: but I will have some of it out again, or I + will ride thee o' nights like the mare. + +FALSTAFF I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have + any vantage of ground to get up. + +Lord Chief-Justice How comes this, Sir John? Fie! what man of good + temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? + Are you not ashamed to enforce a poor widow to so + rough a course to come by her own? + +FALSTAFF What is the gross sum that I owe thee? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself and the + money too. Thou didst swear to me upon a + parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, + at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon + Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince broke + thy head for liking his father to a singing-man of + Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was + washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady + thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife + Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me + gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of + vinegar; telling us she had a good dish of prawns; + whereby thou didst desire to eat some; whereby I + told thee they were ill for a green wound? And + didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, + desire me to be no more so familiarity with such + poor people; saying that ere long they should call + me madam? And didst thou not kiss me and bid me + fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy + book-oath: deny it, if thou canst. + +FALSTAFF My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and she says up + and down the town that the eldest son is like you: + she hath been in good case, and the truth is, + poverty hath distracted her. But for these foolish + officers, I beseech you I may have redress against them. + +Lord Chief-Justice Sir John, Sir John, I am well acquainted with your + manner of wrenching the true cause the false way. It + is not a confident brow, nor the throng of words + that come with such more than impudent sauciness + from you, can thrust me from a level consideration: + you have, as it appears to me, practised upon the + easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made her + serve your uses both in purse and in person. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Yea, in truth, my lord. + +Lord Chief-Justice Pray thee, peace. Pay her the debt you owe her, and + unpay the villany you have done her: the one you + may do with sterling money, and the other with + current repentance. + +FALSTAFF My lord, I will not undergo this sneap without + reply. You call honourable boldness impudent + sauciness: if a man will make courtesy and say + nothing, he is virtuous: no, my lord, my humble + duty remembered, I will not be your suitor. I say + to you, I do desire deliverance from these officers, + being upon hasty employment in the king's affairs. + +Lord Chief-Justice You speak as having power to do wrong: but answer + in the effect of your reputation, and satisfy this + poor woman. + +FALSTAFF Come hither, hostess. + + [Enter GOWER] + +Lord Chief-Justice Now, Master Gower, what news? + +GOWER The king, my lord, and Harry Prince of Wales + Are near at hand: the rest the paper tells. + +FALSTAFF As I am a gentleman. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Faith, you said so before. + +FALSTAFF As I am a gentleman. Come, no more words of it. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY By this heavenly ground I tread on, I must be fain + to pawn both my plate and the tapestry of my + dining-chambers. + +FALSTAFF Glasses, glasses is the only drinking: and for thy + walls, a pretty slight drollery, or the story of + the Prodigal, or the German hunting in water-work, + is worth a thousand of these bed-hangings and these + fly-bitten tapestries. Let it be ten pound, if thou + canst. Come, an 'twere not for thy humours, there's + not a better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, + and draw the action. Come, thou must not be in + this humour with me; dost not know me? come, come, I + know thou wast set on to this. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Pray thee, Sir John, let it be but twenty nobles: i' + faith, I am loath to pawn my plate, so God save me, + la! + +FALSTAFF Let it alone; I'll make other shift: you'll be a + fool still. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, you shall have it, though I pawn my gown. I + hope you'll come to supper. You'll pay me all together? + +FALSTAFF Will I live? + + [To BARDOLPH] + + Go, with her, with her; hook on, hook on. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Will you have Doll Tearsheet meet you at supper? + +FALSTAFF No more words; let's have her. + + [Exeunt MISTRESS QUICKLY, BARDOLPH, Officers and Boy] + +Lord Chief-Justice I have heard better news. + +FALSTAFF What's the news, my lord? + +Lord Chief-Justice Where lay the king last night? + +GOWER At Basingstoke, my lord. + +FALSTAFF I hope, my lord, all's well: what is the news, my lord? + +Lord Chief-Justice Come all his forces back? + +GOWER No; fifteen hundred foot, five hundred horse, + Are marched up to my lord of Lancaster, + Against Northumberland and the Archbishop. + +FALSTAFF Comes the king back from Wales, my noble lord? + +Lord Chief-Justice You shall have letters of me presently: + Come, go along with me, good Master Gower. + +FALSTAFF My lord! + +Lord Chief-Justice What's the matter? + +FALSTAFF Master Gower, shall I entreat you with me to dinner? + +GOWER I must wait upon my good lord here; I thank you, + good Sir John. + +Lord Chief-Justice Sir John, you loiter here too long, being you are to + take soldiers up in counties as you go. + +FALSTAFF Will you sup with me, Master Gower? + +Lord Chief-Justice What foolish master taught you these manners, Sir John? + +FALSTAFF Master Gower, if they become me not, he was a fool + that taught them me. This is the right fencing + grace, my lord; tap for tap, and so part fair. + +Lord Chief-Justice Now the Lord lighten thee! thou art a great fool. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II London. Another street. + + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS] + +PRINCE HENRY Before God, I am exceeding weary. + +POINS Is't come to that? I had thought weariness durst not + have attached one of so high blood. + +PRINCE HENRY Faith, it does me; though it discolours the + complexion of my greatness to acknowledge it. Doth + it not show vilely in me to desire small beer? + +POINS Why, a prince should not be so loosely studied as + to remember so weak a composition. + +PRINCE HENRY Belike then my appetite was not princely got; for, + by my troth, I do now remember the poor creature, + small beer. But, indeed, these humble + considerations make me out of love with my + greatness. What a disgrace is it to me to remember + thy name! or to know thy face to-morrow! or to + take note how many pair of silk stockings thou + hast, viz. these, and those that were thy + peach-coloured ones! or to bear the inventory of thy + shirts, as, one for superfluity, and another for + use! But that the tennis-court-keeper knows better + than I; for it is a low ebb of linen with thee when + thou keepest not racket there; as thou hast not done + a great while, because the rest of thy low + countries have made a shift to eat up thy holland: + and God knows, whether those that bawl out the ruins + of thy linen shall inherit his kingdom: but the + midwives say the children are not in the fault; + whereupon the world increases, and kindreds are + mightily strengthened. + +POINS How ill it follows, after you have laboured so hard, + you should talk so idly! Tell me, how many good + young princes would do so, their fathers being so + sick as yours at this time is? + +PRINCE HENRY Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? + +POINS Yes, faith; and let it be an excellent good thing. + +PRINCE HENRY It shall serve among wits of no higher breeding than thine. + +POINS Go to; I stand the push of your one thing that you + will tell. + +PRINCE HENRY Marry, I tell thee, it is not meet that I should be + sad, now my father is sick: albeit I could tell + thee, as to one it pleases me, for fault of a + better, to call my friend, I could be sad, and sad + indeed too. + +POINS Very hardly upon such a subject. + +PRINCE HENRY By this hand thou thinkest me as far in the devil's + book as thou and Falstaff for obduracy and + persistency: let the end try the man. But I tell + thee, my heart bleeds inwardly that my father is so + sick: and keeping such vile company as thou art + hath in reason taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. + +POINS The reason? + +PRINCE HENRY What wouldst thou think of me, if I should weep? + +POINS I would think thee a most princely hypocrite. + +PRINCE HENRY It would be every man's thought; and thou art a + blessed fellow to think as every man thinks: never + a man's thought in the world keeps the road-way + better than thine: every man would think me an + hypocrite indeed. And what accites your most + worshipful thought to think so? + +POINS Why, because you have been so lewd and so much + engraffed to Falstaff. + +PRINCE HENRY And to thee. + +POINS By this light, I am well spoke on; I can hear it + with my own ears: the worst that they can say of + me is that I am a second brother and that I am a + proper fellow of my hands; and those two things, I + confess, I cannot help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. + + [Enter BARDOLPH and Page] + +PRINCE HENRY And the boy that I gave Falstaff: a' had him from + me Christian; and look, if the fat villain have not + transformed him ape. + +BARDOLPH God save your grace! + +PRINCE HENRY And yours, most noble Bardolph! + +BARDOLPH Come, you virtuous ass, you bashful fool, must you + be blushing? wherefore blush you now? What a + maidenly man-at-arms are you become! Is't such a + matter to get a pottle-pot's maidenhead? + +Page A' calls me e'en now, my lord, through a red + lattice, and I could discern no part of his face + from the window: at last I spied his eyes, and + methought he had made two holes in the ale-wife's + new petticoat and so peeped through. + +PRINCE HENRY Has not the boy profited? + +BARDOLPH Away, you whoreson upright rabbit, away! + +Page Away, you rascally Althaea's dream, away! + +PRINCE HENRY Instruct us, boy; what dream, boy? + +Page Marry, my lord, Althaea dreamed she was delivered + of a fire-brand; and therefore I call him her dream. + +PRINCE HENRY A crown's worth of good interpretation: there 'tis, + boy. + +POINS O, that this good blossom could be kept from + cankers! Well, there is sixpence to preserve thee. + +BARDOLPH An you do not make him hanged among you, the + gallows shall have wrong. + +PRINCE HENRY And how doth thy master, Bardolph? + +BARDOLPH Well, my lord. He heard of your grace's coming to + town: there's a letter for you. + +POINS Delivered with good respect. And how doth the + martlemas, your master? + +BARDOLPH In bodily health, sir. + +POINS Marry, the immortal part needs a physician; but + that moves not him: though that be sick, it dies + not. + +PRINCE HENRY I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my + dog; and he holds his place; for look you how be writes. + +POINS [Reads] 'John Falstaff, knight,'--every man must + know that, as oft as he has occasion to name + himself: even like those that are kin to the king; + for they never prick their finger but they say, + 'There's some of the king's blood spilt.' 'How + comes that?' says he, that takes upon him not to + conceive. The answer is as ready as a borrower's + cap, 'I am the king's poor cousin, sir.' + +PRINCE HENRY Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it + from Japhet. But to the letter. + +POINS [Reads] 'Sir John Falstaff, knight, to the son of + the king, nearest his father, Harry Prince of + Wales, greeting.' Why, this is a certificate. + +PRINCE HENRY Peace! + +POINS [Reads] 'I will imitate the honourable Romans in + brevity:' he sure means brevity in breath, + short-winded. 'I commend me to thee, I commend + thee, and I leave thee. Be not too familiar with + Poins; for he misuses thy favours so much, that he + swears thou art to marry his sister Nell. Repent + at idle times as thou mayest; and so, farewell. + Thine, by yea and no, which is as much as to + say, as thou usest him, JACK FALSTAFF with my + familiars, JOHN with my brothers and sisters, + and SIR JOHN with all Europe.' + My lord, I'll steep this letter in sack and make him eat it. + +PRINCE HENRY That's to make him eat twenty of his words. But do + you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your sister? + +POINS God send the wench no worse fortune! But I never said so. + +PRINCE HENRY Well, thus we play the fools with the time, and the + spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. + Is your master here in London? + +BARDOLPH Yea, my lord. + +PRINCE HENRY Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank? + +BARDOLPH At the old place, my lord, in Eastcheap. + +PRINCE HENRY What company? + +Page Ephesians, my lord, of the old church. + +PRINCE HENRY Sup any women with him? + +Page None, my lord, but old Mistress Quickly and + Mistress Doll Tearsheet. + +PRINCE HENRY What pagan may that be? + +Page A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a kinswoman of my master's. + +PRINCE HENRY Even such kin as the parish heifers are to the town + bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at supper? + +POINS I am your shadow, my lord; I'll follow you. + +PRINCE HENRY Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your + master that I am yet come to town: there's for + your silence. + +BARDOLPH I have no tongue, sir. + +Page And for mine, sir, I will govern it. + +PRINCE HENRY Fare you well; go. + + [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page] + + This Doll Tearsheet should be some road. + +POINS I warrant you, as common as the way between Saint + Alban's and London. + +PRINCE HENRY How might we see Falstaff bestow himself to-night + in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen? + +POINS Put on two leathern jerkins and aprons, and wait + upon him at his table as drawers. + +PRINCE HENRY From a God to a bull? a heavy decension! it was + Jove's case. From a prince to a prentice? a low + transformation! that shall be mine; for in every + thing the purpose must weigh with the folly. + Follow me, Ned. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Warkworth. Before the castle. + + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY] + +NORTHUMBERLAND I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, + Give even way unto my rough affairs: + Put not you on the visage of the times + And be like them to Percy troublesome. + +LADY +NORTHUMBERLAND I have given over, I will speak no more: + Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; + And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. + +LADY PERCY O yet, for God's sake, go not to these wars! + The time was, father, that you broke your word, + When you were more endeared to it than now; + When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, + Threw many a northward look to see his father + Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. + Who then persuaded you to stay at home? + There were two honours lost, yours and your son's. + For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! + For his, it stuck upon him as the sun + In the grey vault of heaven, and by his light + Did all the chivalry of England move + To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass + Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves: + He had no legs that practised not his gait; + And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, + Became the accents of the valiant; + For those that could speak low and tardily + Would turn their own perfection to abuse, + To seem like him: so that in speech, in gait, + In diet, in affections of delight, + In military rules, humours of blood, + He was the mark and glass, copy and book, + That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him! + O miracle of men! him did you leave, + Second to none, unseconded by you, + To look upon the hideous god of war + In disadvantage; to abide a field + Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name + Did seem defensible: so you left him. + Never, O never, do his ghost the wrong + To hold your honour more precise and nice + With others than with him! let them alone: + The marshal and the archbishop are strong: + Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, + To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, + Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Beshrew your heart, + Fair daughter, you do draw my spirits from me + With new lamenting ancient oversights. + But I must go and meet with danger there, + Or it will seek me in another place + And find me worse provided. + +LADY +NORTHUMBERLAND O, fly to Scotland, + Till that the nobles and the armed commons + Have of their puissance made a little taste. + +LADY PERCY If they get ground and vantage of the king, + Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, + To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, + First let them try themselves. So did your son; + He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow; + And never shall have length of life enough + To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, + That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, + For recordation to my noble husband. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind + As with the tide swell'd up unto his height, + That makes a still-stand, running neither way: + Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, + But many thousand reasons hold me back. + I will resolve for Scotland: there am I, + Till time and vantage crave my company. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV London. The Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap. + + + [Enter two Drawers] + +First Drawer What the devil hast thou brought there? apple-johns? + thou knowest Sir John cannot endure an apple-john. + +Second 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.' It angered him to the + heart: but he hath forgot that. + +First Drawer Why, then, cover, and set them down: and see if + thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress + Tearsheet would fain hear some music. Dispatch: the + room where they supped is too hot; they'll come in straight. + +Second Drawer Sirrah, here will be the prince and Master Poins + anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and + aprons; and Sir John must not know of it: Bardolph + hath brought word. + +First Drawer By the mass, here will be old Utis: it will be an + excellent stratagem. + +Second Drawer I'll see if I can find out Sneak. + + [Exit] + + [Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY and DOLL TEARSHEET] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY I' faith, sweetheart, methinks now you are in an + excellent good temperality: your pulsidge beats as + extraordinarily as heart would desire; and your + colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rose, in good + truth, la! But, i' faith, you have drunk too much + canaries; and that's a marvellous searching wine, + and it perfumes the blood ere one can say 'What's + this?' How do you now? + +DOLL TEARSHEET Better than I was: hem! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Why, that's well said; a good heart's worth gold. + Lo, here comes Sir John. + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + +FALSTAFF [Singing] 'When Arthur first in court,' + --Empty the jordan. + + [Exit First Drawer] + + [Singing] + + --'And was a worthy king.' How now, Mistress Doll! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Sick of a calm; yea, good faith. + +FALSTAFF So is all her sect; an they be once in a calm, they are sick. + +DOLL TEARSHEET You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me? + +FALSTAFF You make fat rascals, Mistress Doll. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I make them! gluttony and diseases make them; I + make them not. + +FALSTAFF If the cook help to make the gluttony, you help to + make the diseases, Doll: we catch of you, Doll, we + catch of you; grant that, my poor virtue grant that. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Yea, joy, our chains and our jewels. + +FALSTAFF 'Your broaches, pearls, and ouches:' for to serve + bravely is to come halting off, you know: to come + off the breach with his pike bent bravely, and to + surgery bravely; to venture upon the charged + chambers bravely,-- + +DOLL TEARSHEET Hang yourself, you muddy conger, hang yourself! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY By my troth, this is the old fashion; you two never + meet but you fall to some discord: you are both, + i' good truth, as rheumatic as two dry toasts; you + cannot one bear with another's confirmities. What + the good-year! one must bear, and that must be + you: you are the weaker vessel, as they say, the + emptier vessel. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Can a weak empty vessel bear such a huge full + hogshead? there's a whole merchant's venture of + Bourdeaux stuff in him; you have not seen a hulk + better stuffed in the hold. Come, I'll be friends + with thee, Jack: thou art going to the wars; and + whether I shall ever see thee again or no, there is + nobody cares. + + [Re-enter First Drawer] + +First Drawer Sir, Ancient Pistol's below, and would speak with + you. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Hang him, swaggering rascal! let him not come + hither: it is the foul-mouthed'st rogue in England. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY If he swagger, let him not come here: no, by my + faith; I must live among my neighbours: I'll no + swaggerers: I am in good name and fame with the + very best: shut the door; there comes no swaggerers + here: I have not lived all this while, to have + swaggering now: shut the door, I pray you. + +FALSTAFF Dost thou hear, hostess? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Pray ye, pacify yourself, Sir John: there comes no + swaggerers here. + +FALSTAFF Dost thou hear? it is mine ancient. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Tilly-fally, Sir John, ne'er tell me: your ancient + swaggerer comes not in my doors. I was before Master + Tisick, the debuty, t'other day; and, as he said to + me, 'twas no longer ago than Wednesday last, 'I' + good faith, neighbour Quickly,' says he; Master + Dumbe, our minister, was by then; 'neighbour + Quickly,' says he, 'receive those that are civil; + for,' said he, 'you are in an ill name:' now a' + said so, I can tell whereupon; 'for,' says he, 'you + are an honest woman, and well thought on; therefore + take heed what guests you receive: receive,' says + he, 'no swaggering companions.' There comes none + here: you would bless you to hear what he said: + no, I'll no swaggerers. + +FALSTAFF He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame cheater, i' + faith; you may stroke him as gently as a puppy + greyhound: he'll not swagger with a Barbary hen, if + her feathers turn back in any show of resistance. + Call him up, drawer. + + [Exit First Drawer] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Cheater, call you him? I will bar no honest man my + house, nor no cheater: but I do not love + swaggering, by my troth; I am the worse, when one + says swagger: feel, masters, how I shake; look you, + I warrant you. + +DOLL TEARSHEET So you do, hostess. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Do I? yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen + leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. + + [Enter PISTOL, BARDOLPH, and Page] + +PISTOL God save you, Sir John! + +FALSTAFF Welcome, Ancient Pistol. Here, Pistol, I charge + you with a cup of sack: do you discharge upon mine hostess. + +PISTOL I will discharge upon her, Sir John, with two bullets. + +FALSTAFF She is Pistol-proof, sir; you shall hardly offend + her. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Come, I'll drink no proofs nor no bullets: I'll + drink no more than will do me good, for no man's + pleasure, I. + +PISTOL Then to you, Mistress Dorothy; I will charge you. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Charge me! I scorn you, scurvy companion. What! + you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen + mate! Away, you mouldy rogue, away! I am meat for + your master. + +PISTOL I know you, Mistress Dorothy. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! + by this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy + chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, + you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale + juggler, you! Since when, I pray you, sir? God's + light, with two points on your shoulder? much! + +PISTOL God let me not live, but I will murder your ruff for this. + +FALSTAFF No more, Pistol; I would not have you go off here: + discharge yourself of our company, Pistol. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY No, Good Captain Pistol; not here, sweet captain. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Captain! thou abominable damned cheater, art thou + not ashamed to be called captain? An captains were + of my mind, they would truncheon you out, for + taking their names upon you before you have earned + them. You a captain! you slave, for what? for + tearing a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? He a + captain! hang him, rogue! he lives upon mouldy + stewed prunes and dried cakes. A captain! God's + light, these villains will make the word as odious + as the word 'occupy;' which was an excellent good + word before it was ill sorted: therefore captains + had need look to 't. + +BARDOLPH Pray thee, go down, good ancient. + +FALSTAFF Hark thee hither, Mistress Doll. + +PISTOL Not I I tell thee what, Corporal Bardolph, I could + tear her: I'll be revenged of her. + +Page Pray thee, go down. + +PISTOL I'll see her damned first; to Pluto's damned lake, + by this hand, to the infernal deep, with Erebus and + tortures vile also. Hold hook and line, say I. + Down, down, dogs! down, faitors! Have we not + Hiren here? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Good Captain Peesel, be quiet; 'tis very late, i' + faith: I beseek you now, aggravate your choler. + +PISTOL These be good humours, indeed! Shall pack-horses + And hollow pamper'd jades of Asia, + Which cannot go but thirty mile a-day, + Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals, + And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them with + King Cerberus; and let the welkin roar. + Shall we fall foul for toys? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY By my troth, captain, these are very bitter words. + +BARDOLPH Be gone, good ancient: this will grow to abrawl anon. + +PISTOL Die men like dogs! give crowns like pins! Have we + not Heren here? + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O' my word, captain, there's none such here. What + the good-year! do you think I would deny her? For + God's sake, be quiet. + +PISTOL Then feed, and be fat, my fair Calipolis. + Come, give's some sack. + 'Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contento.' + Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire: + Give me some sack: and, sweetheart, lie thou there. + + [Laying down his sword] + + Come we to full points here; and are etceteras nothing? + +FALSTAFF Pistol, I would be quiet. + +PISTOL Sweet knight, I kiss thy neaf: what! we have seen + the seven stars. + +DOLL TEARSHEET For God's sake, thrust him down stairs: I cannot + endure such a fustian rascal. + +PISTOL Thrust him down stairs! know we not Galloway nags? + +FALSTAFF Quoit him down, Bardolph, like a shove-groat + shilling: nay, an a' do nothing but speak nothing, + a' shall be nothing here. + +BARDOLPH Come, get you down stairs. + +PISTOL What! shall we have incision? shall we imbrue? + + [Snatching up his sword] + + Then death rock me asleep, abridge my doleful days! + Why, then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds + Untwine the Sisters Three! Come, Atropos, I say! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Here's goodly stuff toward! + +FALSTAFF Give me my rapier, boy. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not draw. + +FALSTAFF Get you down stairs. + + [Drawing, and driving PISTOL out] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Here's a goodly tumult! I'll forswear keeping + house, afore I'll be in these tirrits and frights. + So; murder, I warrant now. Alas, alas! put up + your naked weapons, put up your naked weapons. + + [Exeunt PISTOL and BARDOLPH] + +DOLL TEARSHEET I pray thee, Jack, be quiet; the rascal's gone. + Ah, you whoreson little valiant villain, you! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY He you not hurt i' the groin? methought a' made a + shrewd thrust at your belly. + + [Re-enter BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF Have you turned him out o' doors? + +BARDOLPH Yea, sir. The rascal's drunk: you have hurt him, + sir, i' the shoulder. + +FALSTAFF A rascal! to brave me! + +DOLL TEARSHEET Ah, you sweet little rogue, you! alas, poor ape, + how thou sweatest! come, let me wipe thy face; + come on, you whoreson chops: ah, rogue! i'faith, I + love thee: thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, + worth five of Agamemnon, and ten times better than + the Nine Worthies: ah, villain! + +FALSTAFF A rascally slave! I will toss the rogue in a blanket. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Do, an thou darest for thy heart: an thou dost, + I'll canvass thee between a pair of sheets. + + [Enter Music] + +Page The music is come, sir. + +FALSTAFF Let them play. Play, sirs. Sit on my knee, Doll. + A rascal bragging slave! the rogue fled from me + like quicksilver. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I' faith, and thou followedst him like a church. + Thou whoreson little tidy Bartholomew boar-pig, + when wilt thou leave fighting o' days and foining + o' nights, and begin to patch up thine old body for heaven? + + [Enter, behind, PRINCE HENRY and POINS, disguised] + +FALSTAFF Peace, good Doll! do not speak like a death's-head; + do not bid me remember mine end. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Sirrah, what humour's the prince of? + +FALSTAFF A good shallow young fellow: a' would have made a + good pantler, a' would ha' chipp'd bread well. + +DOLL TEARSHEET They say Poins has a good wit. + +FALSTAFF He a good wit? hang him, baboon! his wit's as thick + as Tewksbury mustard; there's no more conceit in him + than is in a mallet. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Why does the prince love him so, then? + +FALSTAFF Because their legs are both of a bigness, and a' + plays at quoits well, and eats conger and fennel, + and drinks off candles' ends for flap-dragons, and + rides the wild-mare with the boys, and jumps upon + joined-stools, and swears with a good grace, and + wears his boots very smooth, like unto the sign of + the leg, and breeds no bate with telling of discreet + stories; and such other gambol faculties a' has, + that show a weak mind and an able body, for the + which the prince admits him: for the prince himself + is such another; the weight of a hair will turn the + scales between their avoirdupois. + +PRINCE HENRY Would not this nave of a wheel have his ears cut off? + +POINS Let's beat him before his whore. + +PRINCE HENRY Look, whether the withered elder hath not his poll + clawed like a parrot. + +POINS Is it not strange that desire should so many years + outlive performance? + +FALSTAFF Kiss me, Doll. + +PRINCE HENRY Saturn and Venus this year in conjunction! what + says the almanac to that? + +POINS And look, whether the fiery Trigon, his man, be not + lisping to his master's old tables, his note-book, + his counsel-keeper. + +FALSTAFF Thou dost give me flattering busses. + +DOLL TEARSHEET By my troth, I kiss thee with a most constant heart. + +FALSTAFF I am old, I am old. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I love thee better than I love e'er a scurvy young + boy of them all. + +FALSTAFF What stuff wilt have a kirtle of? I shall receive + money o' Thursday: shalt have a cap to-morrow. A + merry song, come: it grows late; we'll to bed. + Thou'lt forget me when I am gone. + +DOLL TEARSHEET By my troth, thou'lt set me a-weeping, an thou + sayest so: prove that ever I dress myself handsome + till thy return: well, harken at the end. + +FALSTAFF Some sack, Francis. + + +PRINCE HENRY | + | Anon, anon, sir. +POINS | + + + [Coming forward] + +FALSTAFF Ha! a bastard son of the king's? And art not thou + Poins his brother? + +PRINCE HENRY Why, thou globe of sinful continents! what a life + dost thou lead! + +FALSTAFF A better than thou: I am a gentleman; thou art a drawer. + +PRINCE HENRY Very true, sir; and I come to draw you out by the ears. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O, the Lord preserve thy good grace! by my troth, + welcome to London. Now, the Lord bless that sweet + face of thine! O, Jesu, are you come from Wales? + +FALSTAFF Thou whoreson mad compound of majesty, by this light + flesh and corrupt blood, thou art welcome. + +DOLL TEARSHEET How, you fat fool! I scorn you. + +POINS My lord, he will drive you out of your revenge and + turn all to a merriment, if you take not the heat. + +PRINCE HENRY You whoreson candle-mine, you, how vilely did you + speak of me even now before this honest, virtuous, + civil gentlewoman! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY God's blessing of your good heart! and so she is, + by my troth. + +FALSTAFF Didst thou hear me? + +PRINCE HENRY Yea, and you knew me, as you did when you ran away + by Gad's-hill: you knew I was at your back, and + spoke it on purpose to try my patience. + +FALSTAFF No, no, no; not so; I did not think thou wast within hearing. + +PRINCE HENRY I shall drive you then to confess the wilful abuse; + and then I know how to handle you. + +FALSTAFF No abuse, Hal, o' mine honour, no abuse. + +PRINCE HENRY Not to dispraise me, and call me pantier and + bread-chipper and I know not what? + +FALSTAFF No abuse, Hal. + +POINS No abuse? + +FALSTAFF No abuse, Ned, i' the world; honest Ned, none. I + dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked + might not fall in love with him; in which doing, I + have done the part of a careful friend and a true + subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. + No abuse, Hal: none, Ned, none: no, faith, boys, none. + +PRINCE HENRY See now, whether pure fear and entire cowardice doth + not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to + close with us? is she of the wicked? is thine + hostess here of the wicked? or is thy boy of the + wicked? or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his + nose, of the wicked? + +POINS Answer, thou dead elm, answer. + +FALSTAFF The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable; + and his face is Lucifer's privy-kitchen, where he + doth nothing but roast malt-worms. For the boy, + there is a good angel about him; but the devil + outbids him too. + +PRINCE HENRY For the women? + +FALSTAFF For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns + poor souls. For the other, I owe her money, and + whether she be damned for that, I know not. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY No, I warrant you. + +FALSTAFF No, I think thou art not; I think thou art quit for + that. Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, + for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, + contrary to the law; for the which I think thou wilt howl. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY All victuallers do so; what's a joint of mutton or + two in a whole Lent? + +PRINCE HENRY You, gentlewoman,- + +DOLL TEARSHEET What says your grace? + +FALSTAFF His grace says that which his flesh rebels against. + + [Knocking within] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Who knocks so loud at door? Look to the door there, Francis. + + [Enter PETO] + +PRINCE HENRY Peto, how now! what news? + +PETO The king your father is at Westminster: + And there are twenty weak and wearied posts + Come from the north: and, as I came along, + I met and overtook a dozen captains, + Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the taverns, + And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff. + +PRINCE HENRY By heaven, Poins, I feel me much to blame, + So idly to profane the precious time, + When tempest of commotion, like the south + Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt + And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. + Give me my sword and cloak. Falstaff, good night. + + [Exeunt PRINCE HENRY, POINS, PETO and BARDOLPH] + +FALSTAFF Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and + we must hence and leave it unpicked. + + [Knocking within] + + More knocking at the door! + + [Re-enter BARDOLPH] + + How now! what's the matter? + +BARDOLPH You must away to court, sir, presently; + A dozen captains stay at door for you. + +FALSTAFF [To the Page] Pay the musicians, sirrah. Farewell, + hostess; farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, + how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver + may sleep, when the man of action is called on. + Farewell good wenches: if I be not sent away post, + I will see you again ere I go. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I cannot speak; if my heart be not read to burst,-- + well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. + +FALSTAFF Farewell, farewell. + + [Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these + twenty-nine years, come peascod-time; but an + honester and truer-hearted man,--well, fare thee well. + +BARDOLPH [Within] Mistress Tearsheet! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY What's the matter? + +BARDOLPH [Within] Good Mistress Tearsheet, come to my master. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O, run, Doll, run; run, good Doll: come. + + [She comes blubbered] + + Yea, will you come, Doll? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Westminster. The palace. + + + [Enter KING HENRY IV in his nightgown, with a Page] + +KING HENRY IV Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick; + But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these letters, + And well consider of them; make good speed. + + [Exit Page] + + How many thousand of my poorest subjects + Are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, + Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, + That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down + And steep my senses in forgetfulness? + Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, + Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee + And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, + Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, + Under the canopies of costly state, + And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody? + O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile + In loathsome beds, and leavest the kingly couch + A watch-case or a common 'larum-bell? + Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast + Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains + In cradle of the rude imperious surge + And in the visitation of the winds, + Who take the ruffian billows by the top, + Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them + With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, + That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? + Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose + To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, + And in the calmest and most stillest night, + With all appliances and means to boot, + Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down! + Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. + + [Enter WARWICK and SURREY] + +WARWICK Many good morrows to your majesty! + +KING HENRY IV Is it good morrow, lords? + +WARWICK 'Tis one o'clock, and past. + +KING HENRY IV Why, then, good morrow to you all, my lords. + Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? + +WARWICK We have, my liege. + +KING HENRY IV Then you perceive the body of our kingdom + How foul it is; what rank diseases grow + And with what danger, near the heart of it. + +WARWICK It is but as a body yet distemper'd; + Which to his former strength may be restored + With good advice and little medicine: + My Lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd. + +KING HENRY IV O God! that one might read the book of fate, + And see the revolution of the times + Make mountains level, and the continent, + Weary of solid firmness, melt itself + Into the sea! and, other times, to see + The beachy girdle of the ocean + Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, + And changes fill the cup of alteration + With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, + The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, + What perils past, what crosses to ensue, + Would shut the book, and sit him down and die. + 'Tis not 'ten years gone + Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends, + Did feast together, and in two years after + Were they at wars: it is but eight years since + This Percy was the man nearest my soul, + Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs + And laid his love and life under my foot, + Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard + Gave him defiance. But which of you was by-- + You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember-- + + [To WARWICK] + + When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears, + Then cheque'd and rated by Northumberland, + Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy? + 'Northumberland, thou ladder by the which + My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;' + Though then, God knows, I had no such intent, + But that necessity so bow'd the state + That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss: + 'The time shall come,' thus did he follow it, + 'The time will come, that foul sin, gathering head, + Shall break into corruption:' so went on, + Foretelling this same time's condition + And the division of our amity. + +WARWICK There is a history in all men's lives, + Figuring the nature of the times deceased; + The which observed, a man may prophesy, + With a near aim, of the main chance of things + As yet not come to life, which in their seeds + And weak beginnings lie intreasured. + Such things become the hatch and brood of time; + And by the necessary form of this + King Richard might create a perfect guess + That great Northumberland, then false to him, + Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness; + Which should not find a ground to root upon, + Unless on you. + +KING HENRY IV Are these things then necessities? + Then let us meet them like necessities: + And that same word even now cries out on us: + They say the bishop and Northumberland + Are fifty thousand strong. + +WARWICK It cannot be, my lord; + Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, + The numbers of the fear'd. Please it your grace + To go to bed. Upon my soul, my lord, + The powers that you already have sent forth + Shall bring this prize in very easily. + To comfort you the more, I have received + A certain instance that Glendower is dead. + Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill, + And these unseason'd hours perforce must add + Unto your sickness. + +KING HENRY IV I will take your counsel: + And were these inward wars once out of hand, + We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Gloucestershire. Before SHALLOW'S house. + + + [Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, + SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF, a Servant or two + with them] + +SHALLOW Come on, come on, come on, sir; give me your hand, + sir, give me your hand, sir: an early stirrer, by + the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence? + +SILENCE Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. + +SHALLOW And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your + fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen? + +SILENCE Alas, a black ousel, cousin Shallow! + +SHALLOW By yea and nay, sir, I dare say my cousin William is + become a good scholar: he is at Oxford still, is he not? + +SILENCE Indeed, sir, to my cost. + +SHALLOW A' must, then, to the inns o' court shortly. I was + once of Clement's Inn, where I think they will + talk of mad Shallow yet. + +SILENCE You were called 'lusty Shallow' then, cousin. + +SHALLOW By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would + have done any thing indeed too, and roundly too. + There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, + and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and + Will Squele, a Cotswold man; you had not four such + swinge-bucklers in all the inns o' court again: and + I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were + and had the best of them all at commandment. Then + was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to + Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. + +SILENCE This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers? + +SHALLOW The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break + Skogan's head at the court-gate, when a' was a + crack not thus high: and the very same day did I + fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, + behind Gray's Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I + have spent! and to see how many of my old + acquaintance are dead! + +SILENCE We shall all follow, cousin. + +SHADOW Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, + as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall + die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? + +SILENCE By my troth, I was not there. + +SHALLOW Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living + yet? + +SILENCE Dead, sir. + +SHALLOW Jesu, Jesu, dead! a' drew a good bow; and dead! a' + shot a fine shoot: John a Gaunt loved him well, and + betted much money on his head. Dead! a' would have + clapped i' the clout at twelve score; and carried + you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a + half, that it would have done a man's heart good to + see. How a score of ewes now? + +SILENCE Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be + worth ten pounds. + +SHALLOW And is old Double dead? + +SILENCE Here come two of Sir John Falstaff's men, as I think. + + [Enter BARDOLPH and one with him] + +BARDOLPH Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech you, which + is Justice Shallow? + +SHALLOW I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor esquire of this + county, and one of the king's justices of the peace: + What is your good pleasure with me? + +BARDOLPH My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, + Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and + a most gallant leader. + +SHALLOW He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword + man. How doth the good knight? may I ask how my + lady his wife doth? + +BARDOLPH Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated than + with a wife. + +SHALLOW It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said + indeed too. Better accommodated! it is good; yea, + indeed, is it: good phrases are surely, and ever + were, very commendable. Accommodated! it comes of + 'accommodo' very good; a good phrase. + +BARDOLPH Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase call + you it? by this good day, I know not the phrase; + but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a + soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good + command, by heaven. Accommodated; that is, when a + man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, + being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated; + which is an excellent thing. + +SHALLOW It is very just. + + [Enter FALSTAFF] + + Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good + hand, give me your worship's good hand: by my + troth, you like well and bear your years very well: + welcome, good Sir John. + +FALSTAFF I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert + Shallow: Master Surecard, as I think? + +SHALLOW No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. + +FALSTAFF Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of + the peace. + +SILENCE Your good-worship is welcome. + +FALSTAFF Fie! this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you + provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? + +SHALLOW Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? + +FALSTAFF Let me see them, I beseech you. + +SHALLOW Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the + roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so: + yea, marry, sir: Ralph Mouldy! Let them appear as + I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me + see; where is Mouldy? + +MOULDY Here, an't please you. + +SHALLOW What think you, Sir John? a good-limbed fellow; + young, strong, and of good friends. + +FALSTAFF Is thy name Mouldy? + +MOULDY Yea, an't please you. + +FALSTAFF 'Tis the more time thou wert used. + +SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that + are mouldy lack use: very singular good! in faith, + well said, Sir John, very well said. + +FALSTAFF Prick him. + +MOULDY I was pricked well enough before, an you could have + let me alone: my old dame will be undone now for + one to do her husbandry and her drudgery: you need + not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter + to go out than I. + +FALSTAFF Go to: peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it is + time you were spent. + +MOULDY Spent! + +SHALLOW Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: know you where + you are? For the other, Sir John: let me see: + Simon Shadow! + +FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like + to be a cold soldier. + +SHALLOW Where's Shadow? + +SHADOW Here, sir. + +FALSTAFF Shadow, whose son art thou? + +SHADOW My mother's son, sir. + +FALSTAFF Thy mother's son! like enough, and thy father's + shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow of + the male: it is often so, indeed; but much of the + father's substance! + +SHALLOW Do you like him, Sir John? + +FALSTAFF Shadow will serve for summer; prick him, for we have + a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book. + +SHALLOW Thomas Wart! + +FALSTAFF Where's he? + +WART Here, sir. + +FALSTAFF Is thy name Wart? + +WART Yea, sir. + +FALSTAFF Thou art a very ragged wart. + +SHALLOW Shall I prick him down, Sir John? + +FALSTAFF It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon + his back and the whole frame stands upon pins: + prick him no more. + +SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir; you can do it: I + commend you well. Francis Feeble! + +FEEBLE Here, sir. + +FALSTAFF What trade art thou, Feeble? + +FEEBLE A woman's tailor, sir. + +SHALLOW Shall I prick him, sir? + +FALSTAFF You may: but if he had been a man's tailor, he'ld + ha' pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in + an enemy's battle as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat? + +FEEBLE I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more. + +FALSTAFF Well said, good woman's tailor! well said, + courageous Feeble! thou wilt be as valiant as the + wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the + woman's tailor: well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. + +FEEBLE I would Wart might have gone, sir. + +FALSTAFF I would thou wert a man's tailor, that thou mightst + mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him + to a private soldier that is the leader of so many + thousands: let that suffice, most forcible Feeble. + +FEEBLE It shall suffice, sir. + +FALSTAFF I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next? + +SHALLOW Peter Bullcalf o' the green! + +FALSTAFF Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. + +BULLCALF Here, sir. + +FALSTAFF 'Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf + till he roar again. + +BULLCALF O Lord! good my lord captain,-- + +FALSTAFF What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked? + +BULLCALF O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man. + +FALSTAFF What disease hast thou? + +BULLCALF A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caught + with ringing in the king's affairs upon his + coronation-day, sir. + +FALSTAFF Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we wilt + have away thy cold; and I will take such order that + my friends shall ring for thee. Is here all? + +SHALLOW Here is two more called than your number, you must + have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go in + with me to dinner. + +FALSTAFF Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry + dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night + in the windmill in Saint George's field? + +FALSTAFF No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that. + +SHALLOW Ha! 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? + +FALSTAFF She lives, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW She never could away with me. + +FALSTAFF Never, never; she would always say she could not + abide Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She + was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well? + +FALSTAFF Old, old, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; + certain she's old; and had Robin Nightwork by old + Nightwork before I came to Clement's Inn. + +SILENCE That's fifty-five year ago. + +SHALLOW Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that + this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? + +FALSTAFF We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW That we have, that we have, that we have; in faith, + Sir John, we have: our watch-word was 'Hem boys!' + Come, let's to dinner; come, let's to dinner: + Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. + + [Exeunt FALSTAFF and Justices] + +BULLCALF Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; + and here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns + for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be + hanged, sir, as go: and yet, for mine own part, sir, + I do not care; but rather, because I am unwilling, + and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with + my friends; else, sir, I did not care, for mine own + part, so much. + +BARDOLPH Go to; stand aside. + +MOULDY And, good master corporal captain, for my old + dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do + any thing about her when I am gone; and she is old, + and cannot help herself: You shall have forty, sir. + +BARDOLPH Go to; stand aside. + +FEEBLE By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once: we + owe God a death: I'll ne'er bear a base mind: + an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: no man is + too good to serve's prince; and let it go which way + it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next. + +BARDOLPH Well said; thou'rt a good fellow. + +FEEBLE Faith, I'll bear no base mind. + + [Re-enter FALSTAFF and the Justices] + +FALSTAFF Come, sir, which men shall I have? + +SHALLOW Four of which you please. + +BARDOLPH Sir, a word with you: I have three pound to free + Mouldy and Bullcalf. + +FALSTAFF Go to; well. + +SHALLOW Come, Sir John, which four will you have? + +FALSTAFF Do you choose for me. + +SHALLOW Marry, then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble and Shadow. + +FALSTAFF Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home + till you are past service: and for your part, + Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you. + +SHALLOW Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are + your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best. + +FALSTAFF Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a + man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, + bulk, and big assemblance of a man! Give me the + spirit, Master Shallow. Here's Wart; you see what a + ragged appearance it is; a' shall charge you and + discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's + hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets + on the brewer's bucket. And this same half-faced + fellow, Shadow; give me this man: he presents no + mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim + level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat; + how swiftly will this Feeble the woman's tailor run + off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the + great ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph. + +BARDOLPH Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus. + +FALSTAFF Come, manage me your caliver. So: very well: go + to: very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a + little, lean, old, chapt, bald shot. Well said, i' + faith, Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold, there's a + tester for thee. + +SHALLOW He is not his craft's master; he doth not do it + right. I remember at Mile-end Green, when I lay at + Clement's Inn--I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's + show,--there was a little quiver fellow, and a' + would manage you his piece thus; and a' would about + and about, and come you in and come you in: 'rah, + tah, tah,' would a' say; 'bounce' would a' say; and + away again would a' go, and again would a' come: I + shall ne'er see such a fellow. + +FALSTAFF These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God + keep you, Master Silence: I will not use many words + with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both: I thank + you: I must a dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, give + the soldiers coats. + +SHALLOW Sir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper your + affairs! God send us peace! At your return visit + our house; let our old acquaintance be renewed; + peradventure I will with ye to the court. + +FALSTAFF 'Fore God, I would you would, Master Shallow. + +SHALLOW Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. + +FALSTAFF Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. + + [Exeunt Justices] + + On, Bardolph; lead the men away. + + [Exeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, &c] + + As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do + see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how + subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This + same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to + me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he + hath done about Turnbull Street: and every third + word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's + tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn like a + man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' + was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked + radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it + with a knife: a' was so forlorn, that his + dimensions to any thick sight were invincible: a' + was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a + monkey, and the whores called him mandrake: a' came + ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those + tunes to the overscutched huswives that he heard the + carmen whistle, and swear they were his fancies or + his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger + become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John a + Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and + I'll be sworn a' ne'er saw him but once in the + Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head for crowding + among the marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a + Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have + thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-skin; the + case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a + court: and now has he land and beefs. Well, I'll + be acquainted with him, if I return; and it shall + go hard but I will make him a philosopher's two + stones to me: if the young dace be a bait for the + old pike, I see no reason in the law of nature but I + may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Yorkshire. Gaultree Forest. + + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, LORD + HASTINGS, and others] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK What is this forest call'd? + +HASTINGS 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an't shall please your grace. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth + To know the numbers of our enemies. + +HASTINGS We have sent forth already. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 'Tis well done. + My friends and brethren in these great affairs, + I must acquaint you that I have received + New-dated letters from Northumberland; + Their cold intent, tenor and substance, thus: + Here doth he wish his person, with such powers + As might hold sortance with his quality, + The which he could not levy; whereupon + He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes, + To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers + That your attempts may overlive the hazard + And fearful melting of their opposite. + +MOWBRAY Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground + And dash themselves to pieces. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +HASTINGS Now, what news? + +Messenger West of this forest, scarcely off a mile, + In goodly form comes on the enemy; + And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number + Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand. + +MOWBRAY The just proportion that we gave them out + Let us sway on and face them in the field. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK What well-appointed leader fronts us here? + + [Enter WESTMORELAND] + +MOWBRAY I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland. + +WESTMORELAND Health and fair greeting from our general, + The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace: + What doth concern your coming? + +WESTMORELAND Then, my lord, + Unto your grace do I in chief address + The substance of my speech. If that rebellion + Came like itself, in base and abject routs, + Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rags, + And countenanced by boys and beggary, + I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd, + In his true, native and most proper shape, + You, reverend father, and these noble lords + Had not been here, to dress the ugly form + Of base and bloody insurrection + With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, + Whose see is by a civil peace maintained, + Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd, + Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd, + Whose white investments figure innocence, + The dove and very blessed spirit of peace, + Wherefore do you so ill translate ourself + Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace, + Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war; + Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, + Your pens to lances and your tongue divine + To a trumpet and a point of war? + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Wherefore do I this? so the question stands. + Briefly to this end: we are all diseased, + And with our surfeiting and wanton hours + Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, + And we must bleed for it; of which disease + Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. + But, my most noble Lord of Westmoreland, + I take not on me here as a physician, + Nor do I as an enemy to peace + Troop in the throngs of military men; + But rather show awhile like fearful war, + To diet rank minds sick of happiness + And purge the obstructions which begin to stop + Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. + I have in equal balance justly weigh'd + What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, + And find our griefs heavier than our offences. + We see which way the stream of time doth run, + And are enforced from our most quiet there + By the rough torrent of occasion; + And have the summary of all our griefs, + When time shall serve, to show in articles; + Which long ere this we offer'd to the king, + And might by no suit gain our audience: + When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs, + We are denied access unto his person + Even by those men that most have done us wrong. + The dangers of the days but newly gone, + Whose memory is written on the earth + With yet appearing blood, and the examples + Of every minute's instance, present now, + Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms, + Not to break peace or any branch of it, + But to establish here a peace indeed, + Concurring both in name and quality. + +WESTMORELAND When ever yet was your appeal denied? + Wherein have you been galled by the king? + What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you, + That you should seal this lawless bloody book + Of forged rebellion with a seal divine + And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK My brother general, the commonwealth, + To brother born an household cruelty, + I make my quarrel in particular. + +WESTMORELAND There is no need of any such redress; + Or if there were, it not belongs to you. + +MOWBRAY Why not to him in part, and to us all + That feel the bruises of the days before, + And suffer the condition of these times + To lay a heavy and unequal hand + Upon our honours? + +WESTMORELAND O, my good Lord Mowbray, + Construe the times to their necessities, + And you shall say indeed, it is the time, + And not the king, that doth you injuries. + Yet for your part, it not appears to me + Either from the king or in the present time + That you should have an inch of any ground + To build a grief on: were you not restored + To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories, + Your noble and right well remember'd father's? + +MOWBRAY What thing, in honour, had my father lost, + That need to be revived and breathed in me? + The king that loved him, as the state stood then, + Was force perforce compell'd to banish him: + And then that Harry Bolingbroke and he, + Being mounted and both roused in their seats, + Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, + Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, + Their eyes of fire sparking through sights of steel + And the loud trumpet blowing them together, + Then, then, when there was nothing could have stay'd + My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, + O when the king did throw his warder down, + His own life hung upon the staff he threw; + Then threw he down himself and all their lives + That by indictment and by dint of sword + Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. + +WESTMORELAND You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what. + The Earl of Hereford was reputed then + In England the most valiant gentlemen: + Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled? + But if your father had been victor there, + He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry: + For all the country in a general voice + Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers and love + Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on + And bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king. + But this is mere digression from my purpose. + Here come I from our princely general + To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace + That he will give you audience; and wherein + It shall appear that your demands are just, + You shall enjoy them, every thing set off + That might so much as think you enemies. + +MOWBRAY But he hath forced us to compel this offer; + And it proceeds from policy, not love. + +WESTMORELAND Mowbray, you overween to take it so; + This offer comes from mercy, not from fear: + For, lo! within a ken our army lies, + Upon mine honour, all too confident + To give admittance to a thought of fear. + Our battle is more full of names than yours, + Our men more perfect in the use of arms, + Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; + Then reason will our heart should be as good + Say you not then our offer is compell'd. + +MOWBRAY Well, by my will we shall admit no parley. + +WESTMORELAND That argues but the shame of your offence: + A rotten case abides no handling. + +HASTINGS Hath the Prince John a full commission, + In very ample virtue of his father, + To hear and absolutely to determine + Of what conditions we shall stand upon? + +WESTMORELAND That is intended in the general's name: + I muse you make so slight a question. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule, + For this contains our general grievances: + Each several article herein redress'd, + All members of our cause, both here and hence, + That are insinew'd to this action, + Acquitted by a true substantial form + And present execution of our wills + To us and to our purposes confined, + We come within our awful banks again + And knit our powers to the arm of peace. + +WESTMORELAND This will I show the general. Please you, lords, + In sight of both our battles we may meet; + And either end in peace, which God so frame! + Or to the place of difference call the swords + Which must decide it. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK My lord, we will do so. + + [Exit WESTMORELAND] + +MOWBRAY There is a thing within my bosom tells me + That no conditions of our peace can stand. + +HASTINGS Fear you not that: if we can make our peace + Upon such large terms and so absolute + As our conditions shall consist upon, + Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. + +MOWBRAY Yea, but our valuation shall be such + That every slight and false-derived cause, + Yea, every idle, nice and wanton reason + Shall to the king taste of this action; + That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love, + We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind + That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff + And good from bad find no partition. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK No, no, my lord. Note this; the king is weary + Of dainty and such picking grievances: + For he hath found to end one doubt by death + Revives two greater in the heirs of life, + And therefore will he wipe his tables clean + And keep no tell-tale to his memory + That may repeat and history his loss + To new remembrance; for full well he knows + He cannot so precisely weed this land + As his misdoubts present occasion: + His foes are so enrooted with his friends + That, plucking to unfix an enemy, + He doth unfasten so and shake a friend: + So that this land, like an offensive wife + That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, + As he is striking, holds his infant up + And hangs resolved correction in the arm + That was uprear'd to execution. + +HASTINGS Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods + On late offenders, that he now doth lack + The very instruments of chastisement: + So that his power, like to a fangless lion, + May offer, but not hold. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 'Tis very true: + And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal, + If we do now make our atonement well, + Our peace will, like a broken limb united, + Grow stronger for the breaking. + +MOWBRAY Be it so. + Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland. + + [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] + +WESTMORELAND The prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordship + To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies. + +MOWBRAY Your grace of York, in God's name then, set forward. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Before, and greet his grace: my lord, we come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Another part of the forest. + + + [Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards + the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, HASTINGS, and others: from + the other side, Prince John of LANCASTER, and + WESTMORELAND; Officers, and others with them] + +LANCASTER You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray: + Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop; + And so to you, Lord Hastings, and to all. + My Lord of York, it better show'd with you + When that your flock, assembled by the bell, + Encircled you to hear with reverence + Your exposition on the holy text + Than now to see you here an iron man, + Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum, + Turning the word to sword and life to death. + That man that sits within a monarch's heart, + And ripens in the sunshine of his favour, + Would he abuse the countenance of the king, + Alack, what mischiefs might he set abrooch + In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop, + It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken + How deep you were within the books of God? + To us the speaker in his parliament; + To us the imagined voice of God himself; + The very opener and intelligencer + Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven + And our dull workings. O, who shall believe + But you misuse the reverence of your place, + Employ the countenance and grace of heaven, + As a false favourite doth his prince's name, + In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en up, + Under the counterfeited zeal of God, + The subjects of his substitute, my father, + And both against the peace of heaven and him + Have here up-swarm'd them. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Good my Lord of Lancaster, + I am not here against your father's peace; + But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland, + The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, + Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, + To hold our safety up. I sent your grace + The parcels and particulars of our grief, + The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, + Whereon this Hydra son of war is born; + Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep + With grant of our most just and right desires, + And true obedience, of this madness cured, + Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. + +MOWBRAY If not, we ready are to try our fortunes + To the last man. + +HASTINGS And though we here fall down, + We have supplies to second our attempt: + If they miscarry, theirs shall second them; + And so success of mischief shall be born + And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up + Whiles England shall have generation. + +LANCASTER You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, + To sound the bottom of the after-times. + +WESTMORELAND Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly + How far forth you do like their articles. + +LANCASTER I like them all, and do allow them well, + And swear here, by the honour of my blood, + My father's purposes have been mistook, + And some about him have too lavishly + Wrested his meaning and authority. + My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd; + Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, + Discharge your powers unto their several counties, + As we will ours: and here between the armies + Let's drink together friendly and embrace, + That all their eyes may bear those tokens home + Of our restored love and amity. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK I take your princely word for these redresses. + +LANCASTER I give it you, and will maintain my word: + And thereupon I drink unto your grace. + +HASTINGS Go, captain, and deliver to the army + This news of peace: let them have pay, and part: + I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain. + + [Exit Officer] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. + +WESTMORELAND I pledge your grace; and, if you knew what pains + I have bestow'd to breed this present peace, + You would drink freely: but my love to ye + Shall show itself more openly hereafter. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK I do not doubt you. + +WESTMORELAND I am glad of it. + Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. + +MOWBRAY You wish me health in very happy season; + For I am, on the sudden, something ill. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Against ill chances men are ever merry; + But heaviness foreruns the good event. + +WESTMORELAND Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow + Serves to say thus, 'some good thing comes + to-morrow.' + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. + +MOWBRAY So much the worse, if your own rule be true. + + [Shouts within] + +LANCASTER The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout! + +MOWBRAY This had been cheerful after victory. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + +LANCASTER Go, my lord, + And let our army be discharged too. + + [Exit WESTMORELAND] + + And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains + March, by us, that we may peruse the men + We should have coped withal. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Go, good Lord Hastings, + And, ere they be dismissed, let them march by. + + [Exit HASTINGS] + +LANCASTER I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. + + [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] + + Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? + +WESTMORELAND The leaders, having charge from you to stand, + Will not go off until they hear you speak. + +LANCASTER They know their duties. + + [Re-enter HASTINGS] + +HASTINGS My lord, our army is dispersed already; + Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses + East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, + Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. + +WESTMORELAND Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which + I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason: + And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, + Of capitol treason I attach you both. + +MOWBRAY Is this proceeding just and honourable? + +WESTMORELAND Is your assembly so? + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Will you thus break your faith? + +LANCASTER I pawn'd thee none: + I promised you redress of these same grievances + Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, + I will perform with a most Christian care. + But for you, rebels, look to taste the due + Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. + Most shallowly did you these arms commence, + Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence. + Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray: + God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. + Some guard these traitors to the block of death, + Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Another part of the forest. + + + [Alarum. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting] + +FALSTAFF What's your name, sir? of what condition are you, + and of what place, I pray? + +COLEVILE I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the dale. + +FALSTAFF Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your + degree, and your place the dale: Colevile shall be + still your name, a traitor your degree, and the + dungeon your place, a place deep enough; so shall + you be still Colevile of the dale. + +COLEVILE Are not you Sir John Falstaff? + +FALSTAFF As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye + yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? if I do + sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they + weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and + trembling, and do observance to my mercy. + +COLEVILE I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that + thought yield me. + +FALSTAFF I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of + mine, and not a tongue of them all speaks any other + word but my name. An I had but a belly of any + indifference, I were simply the most active fellow + in Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb, undoes me. + Here comes our general. + + [Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, + BLUNT, and others] + +LANCASTER The heat is past; follow no further now: + Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. + + [Exit WESTMORELAND] + + Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? + When every thing is ended, then you come: + These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, + One time or other break some gallows' back. + +FALSTAFF I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus: I + never knew yet but rebuke and cheque was the reward + of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a + bullet? have I, in my poor and old motion, the + expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with + the very extremest inch of possibility; I have + foundered nine score and odd posts: and here, + travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and + immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the + dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy. + But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that I + may justly say, with the hook-nosed fellow of Rome, + 'I came, saw, and overcame.' + +LANCASTER It was more of his courtesy than your deserving. + +FALSTAFF I know not: here he is, and here I yield him: and + I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the + rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will + have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own + picture on the top on't, Colevile kissing my foot: + to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not + all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the + clear sky of fame o'ershine you as much as the full + moon doth the cinders of the element, which show + like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of + the noble: therefore let me have right, and let + desert mount. + +LANCASTER Thine's too heavy to mount. + +FALSTAFF Let it shine, then. + +LANCASTER Thine's too thick to shine. + +FALSTAFF Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me + good, and call it what you will. + +LANCASTER Is thy name Colevile? + +COLEVILE It is, my lord. + +LANCASTER A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. + +FALSTAFF And a famous true subject took him. + +COLEVILE I am, my lord, but as my betters are + That led me hither: had they been ruled by me, + You should have won them dearer than you have. + +FALSTAFF I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like + a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I + thank thee for thee. + + [Re-enter WESTMORELAND] + +LANCASTER Now, have you left pursuit? + +WESTMORELAND Retreat is made and execution stay'd. + +LANCASTER Send Colevile with his confederates + To York, to present execution: + Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. + + [Exeunt BLUNT and others with COLEVILE] + + And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords: + I hear the king my father is sore sick: + Our news shall go before us to his majesty, + Which, cousin, you shall bear to comfort him, + And we with sober speed will follow you. + +FALSTAFF My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go + Through Gloucestershire: and, when you come to court, + Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report. + +LANCASTER Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition, + Shall better speak of you than you deserve. + + [Exeunt all but Falstaff] + +FALSTAFF I would you had but the wit: 'twere better than + your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober- + blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make + him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. + There's never none of these demure boys come to any + proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, + and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a + kind of male green-sickness; and then when they + marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools + and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for + inflammation. A good sherris sack hath a two-fold + operation in it. It ascends me into the brain; + dries me there all the foolish and dull and curdy + vapours which environ it; makes it apprehensive, + quick, forgetive, full of nimble fiery and + delectable shapes, which, delivered o'er to the + voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes + excellent wit. The second property of your + excellent sherris is, the warming of the blood; + which, before cold and settled, left the liver + white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity + and cowardice; but the sherris warms it and makes + it course from the inwards to the parts extreme: + it illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives + warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, + man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and + inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, + the heart, who, great and puffed up with this + retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour + comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is + nothing without sack, for that sets it a-work; and + learning a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil, till + sack commences it and sets it in act and use. + Hereof comes it that Prince Harry is valiant; for + the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his + father, he hath, like lean, sterile and bare land, + manured, husbanded and tilled with excellent + endeavour of drinking good and good store of fertile + sherris, that he is become very hot and valiant. If + I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I + would teach them should be, to forswear thin + potations and to addict themselves to sack. + + [Enter BARDOLPH] + + How now Bardolph? + +BARDOLPH The army is discharged all and gone. + +FALSTAFF Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire; and + there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire: + I have him already tempering between my finger and + my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber. + + + [Enter KING HENRY IV, the Princes Thomas of CLARENCE + and Humphrey of GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others] + +KING HENRY IV Now, lords, if God doth give successful end + To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, + We will our youth lead on to higher fields + And draw no swords but what are sanctified. + Our navy is address'd, our power collected, + Our substitutes in absence well invested, + And every thing lies level to our wish: + Only, we want a little personal strength; + And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot, + Come underneath the yoke of government. + +WARWICK Both which we doubt not but your majesty + Shall soon enjoy. + +KING HENRY IV Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, + Where is the prince your brother? + +GLOUCESTER I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. + +KING HENRY IV And how accompanied? + +GLOUCESTER I do not know, my lord. + +KING HENRY IV Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? + +GLOUCESTER No, my good lord; he is in presence here. + +CLARENCE What would my lord and father? + +KING HENRY IV Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. + How chance thou art not with the prince thy brother? + He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; + Thou hast a better place in his affection + Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy, + And noble offices thou mayst effect + Of mediation, after I am dead, + Between his greatness and thy other brethren: + Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love, + Nor lose the good advantage of his grace + By seeming cold or careless of his will; + For he is gracious, if he be observed: + He hath a tear for pity and a hand + Open as day for melting charity: + Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint, + As humorous as winter and as sudden + As flaws congealed in the spring of day. + His temper, therefore, must be well observed: + Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, + When thou perceive his blood inclined to mirth; + But, being moody, give him line and scope, + Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, + Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, + And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, + A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, + That the united vessel of their blood, + Mingled with venom of suggestion-- + As, force perforce, the age will pour it in-- + Shall never leak, though it do work as strong + As aconitum or rash gunpowder. + +CLARENCE I shall observe him with all care and love. + +KING HENRY IV Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? + +CLARENCE He is not there to-day; he dines in London. + +KING HENRY IV And how accompanied? canst thou tell that? + +CLARENCE With Poins, and other his continual followers. + +KING HENRY IV Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; + And he, the noble image of my youth, + Is overspread with them: therefore my grief + Stretches itself beyond the hour of death: + The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape + In forms imaginary the unguided days + And rotten times that you shall look upon + When I am sleeping with my ancestors. + For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, + When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, + When means and lavish manners meet together, + O, with what wings shall his affections fly + Towards fronting peril and opposed decay! + +WARWICK My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite: + The prince but studies his companions + Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language, + 'Tis needful that the most immodest word + Be look'd upon and learn'd; which once attain'd, + Your highness knows, comes to no further use + But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, + The prince will in the perfectness of time + Cast off his followers; and their memory + Shall as a pattern or a measure live, + By which his grace must mete the lives of others, + Turning past evils to advantages. + +KING HENRY IV 'Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb + In the dead carrion. + + [Enter WESTMORELAND] + + Who's here? Westmoreland? + +WESTMORELAND Health to my sovereign, and new happiness + Added to that that I am to deliver! + Prince John your son doth kiss your grace's hand: + Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all + Are brought to the correction of your law; + There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd + But peace puts forth her olive every where. + The manner how this action hath been borne + Here at more leisure may your highness read, + With every course in his particular. + +KING HENRY IV O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird, + Which ever in the haunch of winter sings + The lifting up of day. + + [Enter HARCOURT] + + Look, here's more news. + +HARCOURT From enemies heaven keep your majesty; + And, when they stand against you, may they fall + As those that I am come to tell you of! + The Earl Northumberland and the Lord Bardolph, + With a great power of English and of Scots + Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: + The manner and true order of the fight + This packet, please it you, contains at large. + +KING HENRY IV And wherefore should these good news make me sick? + Will fortune never come with both hands full, + But write her fair words still in foulest letters? + She either gives a stomach and no food; + Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast + And takes away the stomach; such are the rich, + That have abundance and enjoy it not. + I should rejoice now at this happy news; + And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy: + O me! come near me; now I am much ill. + +GLOUCESTER Comfort, your majesty! + +CLARENCE O my royal father! + +WESTMORELAND My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up. + +WARWICK Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits + Are with his highness very ordinary. + Stand from him. Give him air; he'll straight be well. + +CLARENCE No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs: + The incessant care and labour of his mind + Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in + So thin that life looks through and will break out. + +GLOUCESTER The people fear me; for they do observe + Unfather'd heirs and loathly births of nature: + The seasons change their manners, as the year + Had found some months asleep and leap'd them over. + +CLARENCE The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb between; + And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, + Say it did so a little time before + That our great-grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. + +WARWICK Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. + +GLOUCESTER This apoplexy will certain be his end. + +KING HENRY IV I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence + Into some other chamber: softly, pray. + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Another chamber. + + + [KING HENRY IV lying on a bed: CLARENCE, + GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others in attendance] + +KING HENRY IV Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; + Unless some dull and favourable hand + Will whisper music to my weary spirit. + +WARWICK Call for the music in the other room. + +KING HENRY IV Set me the crown upon my pillow here. + +CLARENCE His eye is hollow, and he changes much. + +WARWICK Less noise, less noise! + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY] + +PRINCE HENRY Who saw the Duke of Clarence? + +CLARENCE I am here, brother, full of heaviness. + +PRINCE HENRY How now! rain within doors, and none abroad! + How doth the king? + +GLOUCESTER Exceeding ill. + +PRINCE HENRY Heard he the good news yet? + Tell it him. + +GLOUCESTER He alter'd much upon the hearing it. + +PRINCE HENRY If he be sick with joy, he'll recover without physic. + +WARWICK Not so much noise, my lords: sweet prince, + speak low; + The king your father is disposed to sleep. + +CLARENCE Let us withdraw into the other room. + +WARWICK Will't please your grace to go along with us? + +PRINCE HENRY No; I will sit and watch here by the king. + + [Exeunt all but PRINCE HENRY] + + Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow, + Being so troublesome a bedfellow? + O polish'd perturbation! golden care! + That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide + To many a watchful night! sleep with it now! + Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet + As he whose brow with homely biggen bound + Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! + When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit + Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, + That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath + There lies a downy feather which stirs not: + Did he suspire, that light and weightless down + Perforce must move. My gracious lord! my father! + This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep + That from this golden rigol hath divorced + So many English kings. Thy due from me + Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood, + Which nature, love, and filial tenderness, + Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously: + My due from thee is this imperial crown, + Which, as immediate as thy place and blood, + Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, + Which God shall guard: and put the world's whole strength + Into one giant arm, it shall not force + This lineal honour from me: this from thee + Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY IV Warwick! Gloucester! Clarence! + + [Re-enter WARWICK, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest] + +CLARENCE Doth the king call? + +WARWICK What would your majesty? How fares your grace? + +KING HENRY IV Why did you leave me here alone, my lords? + +CLARENCE We left the prince my brother here, my liege, + Who undertook to sit and watch by you. + +KING HENRY IV The Prince of Wales! Where is he? let me see him: + He is not here. + +WARWICK This door is open; he is gone this way. + +GLOUCESTER He came not through the chamber where we stay'd. + +KING HENRY IV Where is the crown? who took it from my pillow? + +WARWICK When we withdrew, my liege, we left it here. + +KING HENRY IV The prince hath ta'en it hence: go, seek him out. + Is he so hasty that he doth suppose + My sleep my death? + Find him, my Lord of Warwick; chide him hither. + + [Exit WARWICK] + + This part of his conjoins with my disease, + And helps to end me. See, sons, what things you are! + How quickly nature falls into revolt + When gold becomes her object! + For this the foolish over-careful fathers + Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, + Their bones with industry; + For this they have engrossed and piled up + The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; + For this they have been thoughtful to invest + Their sons with arts and martial exercises: + When, like the bee, culling from every flower + The virtuous sweets, + Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, + We bring it to the hive, and, like the bees, + Are murdered for our pains. This bitter taste + Yield his engrossments to the ending father. + + [Re-enter WARWICK] + + Now, where is he that will not stay so long + Till his friend sickness hath determined me? + +WARWICK My lord, I found the prince in the next room, + Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks, + With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow + That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, + Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife + With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. + +KING HENRY IV But wherefore did he take away the crown? + + [Re-enter PRINCE HENRY] + + Lo, where he comes. Come hither to me, Harry. + Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. + + [Exeunt WARWICK and the rest] + +PRINCE HENRY I never thought to hear you speak again. + +KING HENRY IV Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought: + I stay too long by thee, I weary thee. + Dost thou so hunger for mine empty chair + That thou wilt needs invest thee with my honours + Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! + Thou seek'st the greatness that will o'erwhelm thee. + Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity + Is held from falling with so weak a wind + That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. + Thou hast stolen that which after some few hours + Were thine without offence; and at my death + Thou hast seal'd up my expectation: + Thy life did manifest thou lovedst me not, + And thou wilt have me die assured of it. + Thou hidest a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, + Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart, + To stab at half an hour of my life. + What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? + Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself, + And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear + That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. + Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse + Be drops of balm to sanctify thy head: + Only compound me with forgotten dust + Give that which gave thee life unto the worms. + Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; + For now a time is come to mock at form: + Harry the Fifth is crown'd: up, vanity! + Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence! + And to the English court assemble now, + From every region, apes of idleness! + Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your scum: + Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, + Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit + The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? + Be happy, he will trouble you no more; + England shall double gild his treble guilt, + England shall give him office, honour, might; + For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks + The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog + Shall flesh his tooth on every innocent. + O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! + When that my care could not withhold thy riots, + What wilt thou do when riot is thy care? + O, thou wilt be a wilderness again, + Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! + +PRINCE HENRY O, pardon me, my liege! but for my tears, + The moist impediments unto my speech, + I had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke + Ere you with grief had spoke and I had heard + The course of it so far. There is your crown; + And He that wears the crown immortally + Long guard it yours! If I affect it more + Than as your honour and as your renown, + Let me no more from this obedience rise, + Which my most inward true and duteous spirit + Teacheth, this prostrate and exterior bending. + God witness with me, when I here came in, + And found no course of breath within your majesty, + How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, + O, let me in my present wildness die + And never live to show the incredulous world + The noble change that I have purposed! + Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, + And dead almost, my liege, to think you were, + I spake unto this crown as having sense, + And thus upbraided it: 'The care on thee depending + Hath fed upon the body of my father; + Therefore, thou best of gold art worst of gold: + Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, + Preserving life in medicine potable; + But thou, most fine, most honour'd: most renown'd, + Hast eat thy bearer up.' Thus, my most royal liege, + Accusing it, I put it on my head, + To try with it, as with an enemy + That had before my face murder'd my father, + The quarrel of a true inheritor. + But if it did infect my blood with joy, + Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; + If any rebel or vain spirit of mine + Did with the least affection of a welcome + Give entertainment to the might of it, + Let God for ever keep it from my head + And make me as the poorest vassal is + That doth with awe and terror kneel to it! + +KING HENRY IV O my son, + God put it in thy mind to take it hence, + That thou mightst win the more thy father's love, + Pleading so wisely in excuse of it! + Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; + And hear, I think, the very latest counsel + That ever I shall breathe. God knows, my son, + By what by-paths and indirect crook'd ways + I met this crown; and I myself know well + How troublesome it sat upon my head. + To thee it shall descend with bitter quiet, + Better opinion, better confirmation; + For all the soil of the achievement goes + With me into the earth. It seem'd in me + But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand, + And I had many living to upbraid + My gain of it by their assistances; + Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, + Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears + Thou see'st with peril I have answered; + For all my reign hath been but as a scene + Acting that argument: and now my death + Changes the mode; for what in me was purchased, + Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; + So thou the garland wear'st successively. + Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, + Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; + And all my friends, which thou must make thy friends, + Have but their stings and teeth newly ta'en out; + By whose fell working I was first advanced + And by whose power I well might lodge a fear + To be again displaced: which to avoid, + I cut them off; and had a purpose now + To lead out many to the Holy Land, + Lest rest and lying still might make them look + Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, + Be it thy course to busy giddy minds + With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out, + May waste the memory of the former days. + More would I, but my lungs are wasted so + That strength of speech is utterly denied me. + How I came by the crown, O God forgive; + And grant it may with thee in true peace live! + +PRINCE HENRY My gracious liege, + You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; + Then plain and right must my possession be: + Which I with more than with a common pain + 'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. + + [Enter Lord John of LANCASTER] + +KING HENRY IV Look, look, here comes my John of Lancaster. + +LANCASTER Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father! + +KING HENRY IV Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son John; + But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown + From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight + My worldly business makes a period. + Where is my Lord of Warwick? + +PRINCE HENRY My Lord of Warwick! + + [Enter WARWICK, and others] + +KING HENRY IV Doth any name particular belong + Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? + +WARWICK 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. + +KING HENRY IV Laud be to God! even there my life must end. + It hath been prophesied to me many years, + I should not die but in Jerusalem; + Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land: + But bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; + In that Jerusalem shall Harry die. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S house. + + + [Enter SHALLOW, FALSTAFF, BARDOLPH, and Page] + +SHALLOW By cock and pie, sir, you shall not away to-night. + What, Davy, I say! + +FALSTAFF You must excuse me, Master Robert Shallow. + +SHALLOW I will not excuse you; you shall not be excused; + excuses shall not be admitted; there is no excuse + shall serve; you shall not be excused. Why, Davy! + + [Enter DAVY] + +DAVY Here, sir. + +SHALLOW Davy, Davy, Davy, Davy, let me see, Davy; let me + see, Davy; let me see: yea, marry, William cook, + bid him come hither. Sir John, you shall not be excused. + +DAVY Marry, sir, thus; those precepts cannot be served: + and, again, sir, shall we sow the headland with wheat? + +SHALLOW With red wheat, Davy. But for William cook: are + there no young pigeons? + +DAVY Yes, sir. Here is now the smith's note for shoeing + and plough-irons. + +SHALLOW Let it be cast and paid. Sir John, you shall not be excused. + +DAVY Now, sir, a new link to the bucket must need be + had: and, sir, do you mean to stop any of William's + wages, about the sack he lost the other day at + Hinckley fair? + +SHALLOW A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple + of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any + pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook. + +DAVY Doth the man of war stay all night, sir? + +SHALLOW Yea, Davy. I will use him well: a friend i' the + court is better than a penny in purse. Use his men + well, Davy; for they are arrant knaves, and will backbite. + +DAVY No worse than they are backbitten, sir; for they + have marvellous foul linen. + +SHALLOW Well conceited, Davy: about thy business, Davy. + +DAVY I beseech you, sir, to countenance William Visor of + Woncot against Clement Perkes of the hill. + +SHALLOW There is many complaints, Davy, against that Visor: + that Visor is an arrant knave, on my knowledge. + +DAVY I grant your worship that he is a knave, sir; but + yet, God forbid, sir, but a knave should have some + countenance at his friend's request. An honest + man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave + is not. I have served your worship truly, sir, + this eight years; and if I cannot once or twice in + a quarter bear out a knave against an honest man, I + have but a very little credit with your worship. The + knave is mine honest friend, sir; therefore, I + beseech your worship, let him be countenanced. + +SHALLOW Go to; I say he shall have no wrong. Look about, Davy. + + [Exit DAVY] + + Where are you, Sir John? Come, come, come, off + with your boots. Give me your hand, Master Bardolph. + +BARDOLPH I am glad to see your worship. + +SHALLOW I thank thee with all my heart, kind + Master Bardolph: and welcome, my tall fellow. + + [To the Page] + + Come, Sir John. + +FALSTAFF I'll follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. + + [Exit SHALLOW] + + Bardolph, look to our horses. + + [Exeunt BARDOLPH and Page] + + If I were sawed into quantities, I should make four + dozen of such bearded hermits' staves as Master + Shallow. It is a wonderful thing to see the + semblable coherence of his men's spirits and his: + they, by observing of him, do bear themselves like + foolish justices; he, by conversing with them, is + turned into a justice-like serving-man: their + spirits are so married in conjunction with the + participation of society that they flock together in + consent, like so many wild-geese. If I had a suit + to Master Shallow, I would humour his men with the + imputation of being near their master: if to his + men, I would curry with Master Shallow that no man + could better command his servants. It is certain + that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is + caught, as men take diseases, one of another: + therefore let men take heed of their company. I + will devise matter enough out of this Shallow to + keep Prince Harry in continual laughter the wearing + out of six fashions, which is four terms, or two + actions, and a' shall laugh without intervallums. O, + it is much that a lie with a slight oath and a jest + with a sad brow will do with a fellow that never + had the ache in his shoulders! O, you shall see him + laugh till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid up! + +SHALLOW [Within] Sir John! + +FALSTAFF I come, Master Shallow; I come, Master Shallow. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Westminster. The palace. + + + [Enter WARWICK and the Lord Chief-Justice, meeting] + +WARWICK How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away? + +Lord Chief-Justice How doth the king? + +WARWICK Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended. + +Lord Chief-Justice I hope, not dead. + +WARWICK He's walk'd the way of nature; + And to our purposes he lives no more. + +Lord Chief-Justice I would his majesty had call'd me with him: + The service that I truly did his life + Hath left me open to all injuries. + +WARWICK Indeed I think the young king loves you not. + +Lord Chief-Justice I know he doth not, and do arm myself + To welcome the condition of the time, + Which cannot look more hideously upon me + Than I have drawn it in my fantasy. + + [Enter LANCASTER, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, + WESTMORELAND, and others] + +WARWICK Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry: + O that the living Harry had the temper + Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen! + How many nobles then should hold their places + That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! + +Lord Chief-Justice O God, I fear all will be overturn'd! + +LANCASTER Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow. + + +GLOUCESTER | + | Good morrow, cousin. +CLARENCE | + + +LANCASTER We meet like men that had forgot to speak. + +WARWICK We do remember; but our argument + Is all too heavy to admit much talk. + +LANCASTER Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy. + +Lord Chief-Justice Peace be with us, lest we be heavier! + +GLOUCESTER O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; + And I dare swear you borrow not that face + Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own. + +LANCASTER Though no man be assured what grace to find, + You stand in coldest expectation: + I am the sorrier; would 'twere otherwise. + +CLARENCE Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair; + Which swims against your stream of quality. + +Lord Chief-Justice Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour, + Led by the impartial conduct of my soul: + And never shall you see that I will beg + A ragged and forestall'd remission. + If truth and upright innocency fail me, + I'll to the king my master that is dead, + And tell him who hath sent me after him. + +WARWICK Here comes the prince. + + [Enter KING HENRY V, attended] + +Lord Chief-Justice Good morrow; and God save your majesty! + +KING HENRY V This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, + Sits not so easy on me as you think. + Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear: + This is the English, not the Turkish court; + Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, + But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, + For, by my faith, it very well becomes you: + Sorrow so royally in you appears + That I will deeply put the fashion on + And wear it in my heart: why then, be sad; + But entertain no more of it, good brothers, + Than a joint burden laid upon us all. + For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, + I'll be your father and your brother too; + Let me but bear your love, I 'll bear your cares: + Yet weep that Harry's dead; and so will I; + But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears + By number into hours of happiness. + +Princes We hope no other from your majesty. + +KING HENRY V You all look strangely on me: and you most; + You are, I think, assured I love you not. + +Lord Chief-Justice I am assured, if I be measured rightly, + Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me. + +KING HENRY V No! + How might a prince of my great hopes forget + So great indignities you laid upon me? + What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison + The immediate heir of England! Was this easy? + May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? + +Lord Chief-Justice I then did use the person of your father; + The image of his power lay then in me: + And, in the administration of his law, + Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, + Your highness pleased to forget my place, + The majesty and power of law and justice, + The image of the king whom I presented, + And struck me in my very seat of judgment; + Whereon, as an offender to your father, + I gave bold way to my authority + And did commit you. If the deed were ill, + Be you contented, wearing now the garland, + To have a son set your decrees at nought, + To pluck down justice from your awful bench, + To trip the course of law and blunt the sword + That guards the peace and safety of your person; + Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image + And mock your workings in a second body. + Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; + Be now the father and propose a son, + Hear your own dignity so much profaned, + See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, + Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd; + And then imagine me taking your part + And in your power soft silencing your son: + After this cold considerance, sentence me; + And, as you are a king, speak in your state + What I have done that misbecame my place, + My person, or my liege's sovereignty. + +KING HENRY V You are right, justice, and you weigh this well; + Therefore still bear the balance and the sword: + And I do wish your honours may increase, + Till you do live to see a son of mine + Offend you and obey you, as I did. + So shall I live to speak my father's words: + 'Happy am I, that have a man so bold, + That dares do justice on my proper son; + And not less happy, having such a son, + That would deliver up his greatness so + Into the hands of justice.' You did commit me: + For which, I do commit into your hand + The unstained sword that you have used to bear; + With this remembrance, that you use the same + With the like bold, just and impartial spirit + As you have done 'gainst me. There is my hand. + You shall be as a father to my youth: + My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, + And I will stoop and humble my intents + To your well-practised wise directions. + And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you; + My father is gone wild into his grave, + For in his tomb lie my affections; + And with his spirit sadly I survive, + To mock the expectation of the world, + To frustrate prophecies and to raze out + Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down + After my seeming. The tide of blood in me + Hath proudly flow'd in vanity till now: + Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, + Where it shall mingle with the state of floods + And flow henceforth in formal majesty. + Now call we our high court of parliament: + And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, + That the great body of our state may go + In equal rank with the best govern'd nation; + That war, or peace, or both at once, may be + As things acquainted and familiar to us; + In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. + Our coronation done, we will accite, + As I before remember'd, all our state: + And, God consigning to my good intents, + No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, + God shorten Harry's happy life one day! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Gloucestershire. SHALLOW'S orchard. + + + [Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, SILENCE, DAVY, BARDOLPH, + and the Page] + +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: come, + cousin Silence: and then to bed. + +FALSTAFF 'Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich. + +SHALLOW Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, + Sir John: marry, good air. Spread, Davy; spread, + Davy; well said, Davy. + +FALSTAFF This Davy serves you for good uses; he is your + serving-man and your husband. + +SHALLOW A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, + Sir John: by the mass, I have drunk too much sack + at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, now sit + down: come, cousin. + +SILENCE Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall + Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, + + [Singing] + + And praise God for the merry year; + When flesh is cheap and females dear, + And lusty lads roam here and there + So merrily, + And ever among so merrily. + +FALSTAFF There's a merry heart! Good Master Silence, I'll + give you a health for that anon. + +SHALLOW Give Master Bardolph some wine, Davy. + +DAVY Sweet sir, sit; I'll be with you anon. most sweet + sir, sit. Master page, good master page, sit. + Proface! What you want in meat, we'll have in drink: + but you must bear; the heart's all. + + [Exit] + +SHALLOW Be merry, Master Bardolph; and, my little soldier + there, be merry. + +SILENCE Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; + + [Singing] + + For women are shrews, both short and tall: + 'Tis merry in hall when beards wag all, + And welcome merry Shrove-tide. + Be merry, be merry. + +FALSTAFF I did not think Master Silence had been a man of + this mettle. + +SILENCE Who, I? I have been merry twice and once ere now. + + [Re-enter DAVY] + +DAVY There's a dish of leather-coats for you. + + [To BARDOLPH] + +SHALLOW Davy! + +DAVY Your worship! I'll be with you straight. + + [To BARDOLPH] + + A cup of wine, sir? + +SILENCE A cup of wine that's brisk and fine, + + [Singing] + + And drink unto the leman mine; + And a merry heart lives long-a. + +FALSTAFF Well said, Master Silence. + +SILENCE An we shall be merry, now comes in the sweet o' the night. + +FALSTAFF Health and long life to you, Master Silence. + +SILENCE Fill the cup, and let it come; + + [Singing] + + I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. + +SHALLOW Honest Bardolph, welcome: if thou wantest any + thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. + Welcome, my little tiny thief. + + [To the Page] + + And welcome indeed too. I'll drink to Master + Bardolph, and to all the cavaleros about London. + +DAVY I hove to see London once ere I die. + +BARDOLPH An I might see you there, Davy,-- + +SHALLOW By the mass, you'll crack a quart together, ha! + Will you not, Master Bardolph? + +BARDOLPH Yea, sir, in a pottle-pot. + +SHALLOW By God's liggens, I thank thee: the knave will + stick by thee, I can assure thee that. A' will not + out; he is true bred. + +BARDOLPH And I'll stick by him, sir. + +SHALLOW Why, there spoke a king. Lack nothing: be merry. + + [Knocking within] + + Look who's at door there, ho! who knocks? + + [Exit DAVY] + +FALSTAFF Why, now you have done me right. + + [To SILENCE, seeing him take off a bumper] + +SILENCE [Singing] + + Do me right, + And dub me knight: Samingo. + Is't not so? + +FALSTAFF 'Tis so. + +SILENCE Is't so? Why then, say an old man can do somewhat. + + [Re-enter DAVY] + +DAVY An't please your worship, there's one Pistol come + from the court with news. + +FALSTAFF From the court! let him come in. + + [Enter PISTOL] + + How now, Pistol! + +PISTOL Sir John, God save you! + +FALSTAFF What wind blew you hither, Pistol? + +PISTOL Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. Sweet + knight, thou art now one of the greatest men in this realm. + +SILENCE By'r lady, I think a' be, but goodman Puff of Barson. + +PISTOL Puff! + Puff in thy teeth, most recreant coward base! + Sir John, I am thy Pistol and thy friend, + And helter-skelter have I rode to thee, + And tidings do I bring and lucky joys + And golden times and happy news of price. + +FALSTAFF I pray thee now, deliver them like a man of this world. + +PISTOL A foutre for the world and worldlings base! + I speak of Africa and golden joys. + +FALSTAFF O base Assyrian knight, what is thy news? + Let King Cophetua know the truth thereof. + +SILENCE And Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John. + + [Singing] + +PISTOL Shall dunghill curs confront the Helicons? + And shall good news be baffled? + Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. + +SILENCE Honest gentleman, I know not your breeding. + +PISTOL Why then, lament therefore. + +SHALLOW Give me pardon, sir: if, sir, you come with news + from the court, I take it there's but two ways, + either to utter them, or to conceal them. I am, + sir, under the king, in some authority. + +PISTOL Under which king, Besonian? speak, or die. + +SHALLOW Under King Harry. + +PISTOL Harry the Fourth? or Fifth? + +SHALLOW Harry the Fourth. + +PISTOL A foutre for thine office! + Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king; + Harry the Fifth's the man. I speak the truth: + When Pistol lies, do this; and fig me, like + The bragging Spaniard. + +FALSTAFF What, is the old king dead? + +PISTOL As nail in door: the things I speak are just. + +FALSTAFF Away, Bardolph! saddle my horse. Master Robert + Shallow, choose what office thou wilt in the land, + 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double-charge thee with dignities. + +BARDOLPH O joyful day! + I would not take a knighthood for my fortune. + +PISTOL What! I do bring good news. + +FALSTAFF Carry Master Silence to bed. Master Shallow, my + Lord Shallow,--be what thou wilt; I am fortune's + steward--get on thy boots: we'll ride all night. + O sweet Pistol! Away, Bardolph! + + [Exit BARDOLPH] + + Come, Pistol, utter more to me; and withal devise + something to do thyself good. Boot, boot, Master + Shallow: I know the young king is sick for me. Let + us take any man's horses; the laws of England are at + my commandment. Blessed are they that have been my + friends; and woe to my lord chief-justice! + +PISTOL Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also! + 'Where is the life that late I led?' say they: + Why, here it is; welcome these pleasant days! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV London. A street. + + + [Enter Beadles, dragging in HOSTESS QUICKLY + and DOLL TEARSHEET] + +MISTRESS QUICKLY No, thou arrant knave; I would to God that I might + die, that I might have thee hanged: thou hast + drawn my shoulder out of joint. + +First Beadle The constables have delivered her over to me; and + she shall have whipping-cheer enough, I warrant + her: there hath been a man or two lately killed about her. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Nut-hook, nut-hook, you lie. Come on; I 'll tell + thee what, thou damned tripe-visaged rascal, an + the child I now go with do miscarry, thou wert + better thou hadst struck thy mother, thou + paper-faced villain. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O the Lord, that Sir John were come! he would make + this a bloody day to somebody. But I pray God the + fruit of her womb miscarry! + +First Beadle If it do, you shall have a dozen of cushions again; + you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you both go + with me; for the man is dead that you and Pistol + beat amongst you. + +DOLL TEARSHEET I'll tell you what, you thin man in a censer, I + will have you as soundly swinged for this,--you + blue-bottle rogue, you filthy famished correctioner, + if you be not swinged, I'll forswear half-kirtles. + +First Beadle Come, come, you she knight-errant, come. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY O God, that right should thus overcome might! + Well, of sufferance comes ease. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Come, you rogue, come; bring me to a justice. + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Ay, come, you starved blood-hound. + +DOLL TEARSHEET Goodman death, goodman bones! + +MISTRESS QUICKLY Thou atomy, thou! + +DOLL TEARSHEET Come, you thin thing; come you rascal. + +First Beadle Very well. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V A public place near Westminster Abbey. + + + [Enter two Grooms, strewing rushes] + +First Groom More rushes, more rushes. + +Second Groom The trumpets have sounded twice. + +First Groom 'Twill be two o'clock ere they come from the + coronation: dispatch, dispatch. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, PISTOL, + BARDOLPH, and Page] + +FALSTAFF Stand here by me, Master Robert Shallow; I will + make the king do you grace: I will leer upon him as + a' comes by; and do but mark the countenance that he + will give me. + +PISTOL God bless thy lungs, good knight. + +FALSTAFF Come here, Pistol; stand behind me. O, if I had had + time to have made new liveries, I would have + bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But + 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: this + doth infer the zeal I had to see him. + +SHALLOW It doth so. + +FALSTAFF It shows my earnestness of affection,-- + +SHALLOW It doth so. + +FALSTAFF My devotion,-- + +SHALLOW It doth, it doth, it doth. + +FALSTAFF As it were, to ride day and night; and not to + deliberate, not to remember, not to have patience + to shift me,-- + +SHALLOW It is best, certain. + +FALSTAFF But to stand stained with travel, and sweating with + desire to see him; thinking of nothing else, + putting all affairs else in oblivion, as if there + were nothing else to be done but to see him. + +PISTOL 'Tis 'semper idem,' for 'obsque hoc nihil est:' + 'tis all in every part. + +SHALLOW 'Tis so, indeed. + +PISTOL My knight, I will inflame thy noble liver, + And make thee rage. + Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts, + Is in base durance and contagious prison; + Haled thither + By most mechanical and dirty hand: + Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell + Alecto's snake, + For Doll is in. Pistol speaks nought but truth. + +FALSTAFF I will deliver her. + + [Shouts within, and the trumpets sound] + +PISTOL There roar'd the sea, and trumpet-clangor sounds. + + [Enter KING HENRY V and his train, the Lord Chief- + Justice among them] + +FALSTAFF God save thy grace, King Hal! my royal Hal! + +PISTOL The heavens thee guard and keep, most royal imp of fame! + +FALSTAFF God save thee, my sweet boy! + +KING HENRY IV My lord chief-justice, speak to that vain man. + +Lord Chief-Justice Have you your wits? know you what 'tis to speak? + +FALSTAFF My king! my Jove! I speak to thee, my heart! + +KING HENRY IV I know thee not, old man: fall to thy prayers; + How ill white hairs become a fool and jester! + I have long dream'd of such a kind of man, + So surfeit-swell'd, so old and so profane; + But, being awaked, I do despise my dream. + Make less thy body hence, and more thy grace; + Leave gormandizing; know the grave doth gape + For thee thrice wider than for other men. + Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: + Presume not that I am the thing I was; + For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, + That I have turn'd away my former self; + So will I those that kept me company. + When thou dost hear I am as I have been, + Approach me, and thou shalt be as thou wast, + The tutor and the feeder of my riots: + Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, + As I have done the rest of my misleaders, + Not to come near our person by ten mile. + For competence of life I will allow you, + That lack of means enforce you not to evil: + And, as we hear you do reform yourselves, + We will, according to your strengths and qualities, + Give you advancement. Be it your charge, my lord, + To see perform'd the tenor of our word. Set on. + + [Exeunt KING HENRY V, &c] + +FALSTAFF Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound. + +SHALLOW Yea, marry, Sir John; which I beseech you to let me + have home with me. + +FALSTAFF That can hardly be, Master Shallow. Do not you + grieve at this; I shall be sent for in private to + him: look you, he must seem thus to the world: + fear not your advancements; I will be the man yet + that shall make you great. + +SHALLOW I cannot well perceive how, unless you should give + me your doublet and stuff me out with straw. I + beseech you, good Sir John, let me have five hundred + of my thousand. + +FALSTAFF Sir, I will be as good as my word: this that you + heard was but a colour. + +SHALLOW A colour that I fear you will die in, Sir John. + +FALSTAFF Fear no colours: go with me to dinner: come, + Lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph: I shall be sent + for soon at night. + + [Re-enter Prince John of LANCASTER, the Lord + Chief-Justice; Officers with them] + +Lord Chief-Justice Go, carry Sir John Falstaff to the Fleet: + Take all his company along with him. + +FALSTAFF My lord, my lord,-- + +Lord Chief-Justice I cannot now speak: I will hear you soon. + Take them away. + +PISTOL Si fortune me tormenta, spero contenta. + + [Exeunt all but PRINCE JOHN and the Lord + Chief-Justice] + +LANCASTER I like this fair proceeding of the king's: + He hath intent his wonted followers + Shall all be very well provided for; + But all are banish'd till their conversations + Appear more wise and modest to the world. + +Lord Chief-Justice And so they are. + +LANCASTER The king hath call'd his parliament, my lord. + +Lord Chief-Justice He hath. + +LANCASTER I will lay odds that, ere this year expire, + We bear our civil swords and native fire + As far as France: I beard a bird so sing, + Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king. + Come, will you hence? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY IV + + EPILOGUE + + + [Spoken by a Dancer] + + First my fear; then my courtesy; last my speech. + My fear is, your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; + and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look + for a good speech now, you undo me: for what I have + to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I + should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. + But to the purpose, and so to the venture. Be it + known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here + in the end of a displeasing play, to pray your + patience for it and to promise you a better. I + meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an + ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and + you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here I promised you + I would be and here I commit my body to your + mercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and, + as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. + + If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will + you command me to use my legs? and yet that were but + light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a + good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, + and so would I. All the gentlewomen here have + forgiven me: if the gentlemen will not, then the + gentlemen do not agree with the gentlewomen, which + was never seen before in such an assembly. + + One word more, I beseech you. If you be not too + much cloyed with fat meat, our humble author will + continue the story, with Sir John in it, and make + you merry with fair Katharine of France: where, for + any thing I know, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, + unless already a' be killed with your hard + opinions; for Oldcastle died a martyr, and this is + not the man. My tongue is weary; when my legs are + too, I will bid you good night: and so kneel down + before you; but, indeed, to pray for the queen. + 2 KING HENRY VI + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING HENRY +the Sixth (KING HENRY VI:) + +HUMPHREY Duke of Gloucester, his uncle. (GLOUCESTER:) + +CARDINAL BEAUFORT Bishop of Winchester, great-uncle to the King. + (CARDINAL:) + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Duke of York. (YORK:) + + +EDWARD | + | his sons +RICHARD | + + +DUKE OF SOMERSET (SOMERSET:) + +DUKE OF SUFFOLK (SUFFOLK:) + +DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM (BUCKINGHAM:) + +LORD CLIFFORD (CLIFFORD:) + +YOUNG CLIFFORD his son. + +EARL OF SALISBURY (SALISBURY:) + +EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:) + +LORD SCALES (SCALES:) + +LORD SAY (SAY:) + +SIR HUMPHREY +STAFFORD (SIR HUMPHREY:) + +WILLIAM STAFFORD Sir Humphrey Stafford's brother. + +SIR JOHN STANLEY (STANLEY:) + +VAUX: + +MATTHEW GOFFE: + + A Sea-captain, (Captain:) Master, and Master's-Mate. + +WALTER WHITMORE: + + Two Gentlemen, prisoners with Suffolk. + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + + +JOHN HUME (HUME:) | + | priests. +JOHN SOUTHWELL | + + +BOLINGBROKE a conjurer. + +THOMAS HORNER an armourer. (HORNER:) + +PETER Thomas Horner's man. + + Clerk of Chatham. (Clerk:) + + Mayor of Saint Alban's. (Mayor:) + +SIMPCOX an impostor. + +ALEXANDER IDEN a Kentish gentleman. (IDEN:) + +JACK CADE a rebel. (CADE:) + + +GEORGE BEVIS (BEVIS:) | + | +JOHN HOLLAND (HOLLAND:) | + | +DICK the butcher (DICK:) | + | followers of Cade. +SMITH the weaver (SMITH:) | + | +MICHAEL (MICHAEL:) | + | +&c. | + + + Two Murderers + (First Murderer:) + (Second Murderer:) + +QUEEN MARGARET Queen to King Henry. + +ELEANOR Duchess of Gloucester. (DUCHESS:) + +MARGARET JOURDAIN a witch. + + Wife to Simpcox (Wife:) + + Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. Petitioners, + Aldermen, a Herald, a Beadle, Sheriff, and + Officers, Citizens, 'Prentices, Falconers, + Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c. + (First Neighbour:) + (Second Neighbour:) + (Third Neighbour:) + (First Petitioner:) + (Second Petitioner:) + (Herald:) + (Beadle:) + (Sheriff:) + (Servant:) + (Soldier:) + (Townsman:) + (First 'Prentice:) + (Second 'Prentice:) + (Post:) + (Messenger:) + + A Spirit. (Spirit:) + + + +SCENE England. + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. The palace. + + + [Flourish of trumpets: then hautboys. Enter KING + HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and + CARDINAL, on the one side; QUEEN MARGARET, SUFFOLK, + YORK, SOMERSET, and BUCKINGHAM, on the other] + +SUFFOLK As by your high imperial majesty + I had in charge at my depart for France, + As procurator to your excellence, + To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, + So, in the famous ancient city, Tours, + In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, + The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne and Alencon, + Seven earls, twelve barons and twenty reverend bishops, + I have perform'd my task and was espoused: + And humbly now upon my bended knee, + In sight of England and her lordly peers, + Deliver up my title in the queen + To your most gracious hands, that are the substance + Of that great shadow I did represent; + The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, + The fairest queen that ever king received. + +KING HENRY VI Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret: + I can express no kinder sign of love + Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends me life, + Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! + For thou hast given me in this beauteous face + A world of earthly blessings to my soul, + If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. + +QUEEN MARGARET Great King of England and my gracious lord, + The mutual conference that my mind hath had, + By day, by night, waking and in my dreams, + In courtly company or at my beads, + With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign, + Makes me the bolder to salute my king + With ruder terms, such as my wit affords + And over-joy of heart doth minister. + +KING HENRY VI Her sight did ravish; but her grace in speech, + Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, + Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys; + Such is the fulness of my heart's content. + Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love. + +ALL [Kneeling] Long live Queen Margaret, England's + happiness! + +QUEEN MARGARET We thank you all. + + [Flourish] + +SUFFOLK My lord protector, so it please your grace, + Here are the articles of contracted peace + Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, + For eighteen months concluded by consent. + +GLOUCESTER [Reads] 'Imprimis, it is agreed between the French + king Charles, and William de la Pole, Marquess of + Suffolk, ambassador for Henry King of England, that + the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, + daughter unto Reignier King of Naples, Sicilia and + Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the + thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, that the duchy + of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released + and delivered to the king her father'-- + + [Lets the paper fall] + +KING HENRY VI Uncle, how now! + +GLOUCESTER Pardon me, gracious lord; + Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart + And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. + +KING HENRY VI Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on. + +CARDINAL [Reads] 'Item, It is further agreed between them, + that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be + released and delivered over to the king her father, + and she sent over of the King of England's own + proper cost and charges, without having any dowry.' + +KING HENRY VI They please us well. Lord marquess, kneel down: + We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, + And gird thee with the sword. Cousin of York, + We here discharge your grace from being regent + I' the parts of France, till term of eighteen months + Be full expired. Thanks, uncle Winchester, + Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, + Salisbury, and Warwick; + We thank you all for the great favour done, + In entertainment to my princely queen. + Come, let us in, and with all speed provide + To see her coronation be perform'd. + + [Exeunt KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, and SUFFOLK] + +GLOUCESTER Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, + To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, + Your grief, the common grief of all the land. + What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, + His valour, coin and people, in the wars? + Did he so often lodge in open field, + In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, + To conquer France, his true inheritance? + And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, + To keep by policy what Henry got? + Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, + Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, + Received deep scars in France and Normandy? + Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, + With all the learned council of the realm, + Studied so long, sat in the council-house + Early and late, debating to and fro + How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, + And had his highness in his infancy + Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? + And shall these labours and these honours die? + Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, + Your deeds of war and all our counsel die? + O peers of England, shameful is this league! + Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, + Blotting your names from books of memory, + Razing the characters of your renown, + Defacing monuments of conquer'd France, + Undoing all, as all had never been! + +CARDINAL Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, + This peroration with such circumstance? + For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still. + +GLOUCESTER Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can; + But now it is impossible we should: + Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, + Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine + Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style + Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. + +SALISBURY Now, by the death of Him that died for all, + These counties were the keys of Normandy. + But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son? + +WARWICK For grief that they are past recovery: + For, were there hope to conquer them again, + My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. + Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both; + Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer: + And are the cities, that I got with wounds, + Delivered up again with peaceful words? + Mort Dieu! + +YORK For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate, + That dims the honour of this warlike isle! + France should have torn and rent my very heart, + Before I would have yielded to this league. + I never read but England's kings have had + Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives: + And our King Henry gives away his own, + To match with her that brings no vantages. + +GLOUCESTER A proper jest, and never heard before, + That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth + For costs and charges in transporting her! + She should have stayed in France and starved + in France, Before-- + +CARDINAL My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot: + It was the pleasure of my lord the King. + +GLOUCESTER My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind; + 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, + But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye. + Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face + I see thy fury: if I longer stay, + We shall begin our ancient bickerings. + Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone, + I prophesied France will be lost ere long. + + [Exit] + +CARDINAL So, there goes our protector in a rage. + 'Tis known to you he is mine enemy, + Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, + And no great friend, I fear me, to the king. + Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, + And heir apparent to the English crown: + Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, + And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, + There's reason he should be displeased at it. + Look to it, lords! let not his smoothing words + Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. + What though the common people favour him, + Calling him 'Humphrey, the good Duke of + Gloucester,' + Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice, + 'Jesu maintain your royal excellence!' + With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!' + I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, + He will be found a dangerous protector. + +BUCKINGHAM Why should he, then, protect our sovereign, + He being of age to govern of himself? + Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, + And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, + We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat. + +CARDINAL This weighty business will not brook delay: + I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. + + [Exit] + +SOMERSET Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride + And greatness of his place be grief to us, + Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal: + His insolence is more intolerable + Than all the princes in the land beside: + If Gloucester be displaced, he'll be protector. + +BUCKINGHAM Or thou or I, Somerset, will be protector, + Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal. + + [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET] + +SALISBURY Pride went before, ambition follows him. + While these do labour for their own preferment, + Behoves it us to labour for the realm. + I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester + Did bear him like a noble gentleman. + Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal, + More like a soldier than a man o' the church, + As stout and proud as he were lord of all, + Swear like a ruffian and demean himself + Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. + Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, + Thy deeds, thy plainness and thy housekeeping, + Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, + Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey: + And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, + In bringing them to civil discipline, + Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, + When thou wert regent for our sovereign, + Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people: + Join we together, for the public good, + In what we can, to bridle and suppress + The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal, + With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; + And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds, + While they do tend the profit of the land. + +WARWICK So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, + And common profit of his country! + +YORK [Aside] And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. + +SALISBURY Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main. + +WARWICK Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost; + That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, + And would have kept so long as breath did last! + Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine, + Which I will win from France, or else be slain, + + [Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY] + +YORK Anjou and Maine are given to the French; + Paris is lost; the state of Normandy + Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: + Suffolk concluded on the articles, + The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased + To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. + I cannot blame them all: what is't to them? + 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. + Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage + And purchase friends and give to courtezans, + Still revelling like lords till all be gone; + While as the silly owner of the goods + Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands + And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof, + While all is shared and all is borne away, + Ready to starve and dare not touch his own: + So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, + While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold. + Methinks the realms of England, France and Ireland + Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood + As did the fatal brand Althaea burn'd + Unto the prince's heart of Calydon. + Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! + Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, + Even as I have of fertile England's soil. + A day will come when York shall claim his own; + And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts + And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, + And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, + For that's the golden mark I seek to hit: + Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, + Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, + Nor wear the diadem upon his head, + Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown. + Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve: + Watch thou and wake when others be asleep, + To pry into the secrets of the state; + Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, + With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, + And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars: + Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, + With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed; + And in my standard bear the arms of York + To grapple with the house of Lancaster; + And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown, + Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II GLOUCESTER'S house. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER and his DUCHESS] + +DUCHESS Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn, + Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? + Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, + As frowning at the favours of the world? + Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth, + Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? + What seest thou there? King Henry's diadem, + Enchased with all the honours of the world? + If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, + Until thy head be circled with the same. + Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold. + What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine: + And, having both together heaved it up, + We'll both together lift our heads to heaven, + And never more abase our sight so low + As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. + +GLOUCESTER O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, + Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts. + And may that thought, when I imagine ill + Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, + Be my last breathing in this mortal world! + My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. + +DUCHESS What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it + With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. + +GLOUCESTER Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, + Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot, + But, as I think, it was by the cardinal; + And on the pieces of the broken wand + Were placed the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset, + And William de la Pole, first duke of Suffolk. + This was my dream: what it doth bode, God knows. + +DUCHESS Tut, this was nothing but an argument + That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove + Shall lose his head for his presumption. + But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: + Methought I sat in seat of majesty + In the cathedral church of Westminster, + And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd; + Where Henry and dame Margaret kneel'd to me + And on my head did set the diadem. + +GLOUCESTER Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: + Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured Eleanor, + Art thou not second woman in the realm, + And the protector's wife, beloved of him? + Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, + Above the reach or compass of thy thought? + And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, + To tumble down thy husband and thyself + From top of honour to disgrace's feet? + Away from me, and let me hear no more! + +DUCHESS What, what, my lord! are you so choleric + With Eleanor, for telling but her dream? + Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself, + And not be cheque'd. + +GLOUCESTER Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again. + + [Enter Messenger] + +Messenger My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure + You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's, + Where as the king and queen do mean to hawk. + +GLOUCESTER I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? + +DUCHESS Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently. + + [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Messenger] + + Follow I must; I cannot go before, + While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. + Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, + I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks + And smooth my way upon their headless necks; + And, being a woman, I will not be slack + To play my part in Fortune's pageant. + Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not, man, + We are alone; here's none but thee and I. + + [Enter HUME] + +HUME Jesus preserve your royal majesty! + +DUCHESS What say'st thou? majesty! I am but grace. + +HUME But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, + Your grace's title shall be multiplied. + +DUCHESS What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd + With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, + With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? + And will they undertake to do me good? + +HUME This they have promised, to show your highness + A spirit raised from depth of under-ground, + That shall make answer to such questions + As by your grace shall be propounded him. + +DUCHESS It is enough; I'll think upon the questions: + When from St. Alban's we do make return, + We'll see these things effected to the full. + Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man, + With thy confederates in this weighty cause. + + [Exit] + +HUME Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold; + Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume! + Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum: + The business asketh silent secrecy. + Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch: + Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. + Yet have I gold flies from another coast; + I dare not say, from the rich cardinal + And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk, + Yet I do find it so; for to be plain, + They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, + Have hired me to undermine the duchess + And buz these conjurations in her brain. + They say 'A crafty knave does need no broker;' + Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. + Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near + To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. + Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last + Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck, + And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall: + Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The palace. + + + [Enter three or four Petitioners, PETER, the + Armourer's man, being one] + +First Petitioner My masters, let's stand close: my lord protector + will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver + our supplications in the quill. + +Second Petitioner Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man! + Jesu bless him! + + [Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN MARGARET] + +PETER Here a' comes, methinks, and the queen with him. + I'll be the first, sure. + +Second Petitioner Come back, fool; this is the Duke of Suffolk, and + not my lord protector. + +SUFFOLK How now, fellow! would'st anything with me? + +First Petitioner I pray, my lord, pardon me; I took ye for my lord + protector. + +QUEEN MARGARET [Reading] 'To my Lord Protector!' Are your + supplications to his lordship? Let me see them: + what is thine? + +First Petitioner Mine is, an't please your grace, against John + Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my + house, and lands, and wife and all, from me. + +SUFFOLK Thy wife, too! that's some wrong, indeed. What's + yours? What's here! + + [Reads] + + 'Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the + commons of Melford.' How now, sir knave! + +Second Petitioner Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township. + +PETER [Giving his petition] Against my master, Thomas + Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful + heir to the crown. + +QUEEN MARGARET What sayst thou? did the Duke of York say he was + rightful heir to the crown? + +PETER That my master was? no, forsooth: my master said + that he was, and that the king was an usurper. + +SUFFOLK Who is there? + + [Enter Servant] + + Take this fellow in, and send for + his master with a pursuivant presently: we'll hear + more of your matter before the King. + + [Exit Servant with PETER] + +QUEEN MARGARET And as for you, that love to be protected + Under the wings of our protector's grace, + Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. + + [Tears the supplication] + + Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go. + +ALL Come, let's be gone. + + [Exeunt] + +QUEEN MARGARET My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, + Is this the fashion in the court of England? + Is this the government of Britain's isle, + And this the royalty of Albion's king? + What shall King Henry be a pupil still + Under the surly Gloucester's governance? + Am I a queen in title and in style, + And must be made a subject to a duke? + I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours + Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love + And stolest away the ladies' hearts of France, + I thought King Henry had resembled thee + In courage, courtship and proportion: + But all his mind is bent to holiness, + To number Ave-Maries on his beads; + His champions are the prophets and apostles, + His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, + His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves + Are brazen images of canonized saints. + I would the college of the cardinals + Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome, + And set the triple crown upon his head: + That were a state fit for his holiness. + +SUFFOLK Madam, be patient: as I was cause + Your highness came to England, so will I + In England work your grace's full content. + +QUEEN MARGARET Beside the haughty protector, have we Beaufort, + The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, + And grumbling York: and not the least of these + But can do more in England than the king. + +SUFFOLK And he of these that can do most of all + Cannot do more in England than the Nevils: + Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers. + +QUEEN MARGARET Not all these lords do vex me half so much + As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife. + She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, + More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife: + Strangers in court do take her for the queen: + She bears a duke's revenues on her back, + And in her heart she scorns our poverty: + Shall I not live to be avenged on her? + Contemptuous base-born callet as she is, + She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day, + The very train of her worst wearing gown + Was better worth than all my father's lands, + Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. + +SUFFOLK Madam, myself have limed a bush for her, + And placed a quire of such enticing birds, + That she will light to listen to the lays, + And never mount to trouble you again. + So, let her rest: and, madam, list to me; + For I am bold to counsel you in this. + Although we fancy not the cardinal, + Yet must we join with him and with the lords, + Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. + As for the Duke of York, this late complaint + Will make but little for his benefit. + So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last, + And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. + + [Sound a sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, + CARDINAL, BUCKINGHAM, YORK, SOMERSET, SALISBURY, + WARWICK, and the DUCHESS] + +KING HENRY VI For my part, noble lords, I care not which; + Or Somerset or York, all's one to me. + +YORK If York have ill demean'd himself in France, + Then let him be denay'd the regentship. + +SOMERSET If Somerset be unworthy of the place, + Let York be regent; I will yield to him. + +WARWICK Whether your grace be worthy, yea or no, + Dispute not that: York is the worthier. + +CARDINAL Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. + +WARWICK The cardinal's not my better in the field. + +BUCKINGHAM All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick. + +WARWICK Warwick may live to be the best of all. + +SALISBURY Peace, son! and show some reason, Buckingham, + Why Somerset should be preferred in this. + +QUEEN MARGARET Because the king, forsooth, will have it so. + +GLOUCESTER Madam, the king is old enough himself + To give his censure: these are no women's matters. + +QUEEN MARGARET If he be old enough, what needs your grace + To be protector of his excellence? + +GLOUCESTER Madam, I am protector of the realm; + And, at his pleasure, will resign my place. + +SUFFOLK Resign it then and leave thine insolence. + Since thou wert king--as who is king but thou?-- + The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck; + The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas; + And all the peers and nobles of the realm + Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. + +CARDINAL The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags + Are lank and lean with thy extortions. + +SOMERSET Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire + Have cost a mass of public treasury. + +BUCKINGHAM Thy cruelty in execution + Upon offenders, hath exceeded law, + And left thee to the mercy of the law. + +QUEEN MARGARET They sale of offices and towns in France, + If they were known, as the suspect is great, + Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. + + [Exit GLOUCESTER. QUEEN MARGARET drops her fan] + + Give me my fan: what, minion! can ye not? + + [She gives the DUCHESS a box on the ear] + + I cry you mercy, madam; was it you? + +DUCHESS Was't I! yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman: + Could I come near your beauty with my nails, + I'd set my ten commandments in your face. + +KING HENRY VI Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will. + +DUCHESS Against her will! good king, look to't in time; + She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby: + Though in this place most master wear no breeches, + She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged. + + [Exit] + +BUCKINGHAM Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, + And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds: + She's tickled now; her fume needs no spurs, + She'll gallop far enough to her destruction. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Now, lords, my choler being over-blown + With walking once about the quadrangle, + I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. + As for your spiteful false objections, + Prove them, and I lie open to the law: + But God in mercy so deal with my soul, + As I in duty love my king and country! + But, to the matter that we have in hand: + I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man + To be your regent in the realm of France. + +SUFFOLK Before we make election, give me leave + To show some reason, of no little force, + That York is most unmeet of any man. + +YORK I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet: + First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; + Next, if I be appointed for the place, + My Lord of Somerset will keep me here, + Without discharge, money, or furniture, + Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands: + Last time, I danced attendance on his will + Till Paris was besieged, famish'd, and lost. + +WARWICK That can I witness; and a fouler fact + Did never traitor in the land commit. + +SUFFOLK Peace, headstrong Warwick! + +WARWICK Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? + + [Enter HORNER, the Armourer, and his man + PETER, guarded] + +SUFFOLK Because here is a man accused of treason: + Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself! + +YORK Doth any one accuse York for a traitor? + +KING HENRY VI What mean'st thou, Suffolk; tell me, what are these? + +SUFFOLK Please it your majesty, this is the man + That doth accuse his master of high treason: + His words were these: that Richard, Duke of York, + Was rightful heir unto the English crown + And that your majesty was a usurper. + +KING HENRY VI Say, man, were these thy words? + +HORNER An't shall please your majesty, I never said nor + thought any such matter: God is my witness, I am + falsely accused by the villain. + +PETER By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to + me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my + Lord of York's armour. + +YORK Base dunghill villain and mechanical, + I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech. + I do beseech your royal majesty, + Let him have all the rigor of the law. + +HORNER Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the words. + My accuser is my 'prentice; and when I did correct + him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his + knees he would be even with me: I have good + witness of this: therefore I beseech your majesty, + do not cast away an honest man for a villain's + accusation. + +KING HENRY VI Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? + +GLOUCESTER This doom, my lord, if I may judge: + Let Somerset be regent over the French, + Because in York this breeds suspicion: + And let these have a day appointed them + For single combat in convenient place, + For he hath witness of his servant's malice: + This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom. + +SOMERSET I humbly thank your royal majesty. + +HORNER And I accept the combat willingly. + +PETER Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake, pity + my case. The spite of man prevaileth against me. O + Lord, have mercy upon me! I shall never be able to + fight a blow. O Lord, my heart! + +GLOUCESTER Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd. + +KING HENRY VI Away with them to prison; and the day of combat + shall be the last of the next month. Come, + Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV GLOUCESTER's garden. + + + [Enter MARGARET JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL, and + BOLINGBROKE] + +HUME Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell you, expects + performance of your promises. + +BOLINGBROKE Master Hume, we are therefore provided: will her + ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms? + +HUME Ay, what else? fear you not her courage. + +BOLINGBROKE I have heard her reported to be a woman of an + invincible spirit: but it shall be convenient, + Master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be + busy below; and so, I pray you, go, in God's name, + and leave us. + + [Exit HUME] + + Mother Jourdain, be you + prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, + read you; and let us to our work. + + [Enter the DUCHESS aloft, HUME following] + +DUCHESS Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this + gear the sooner the better. + +BOLINGBROKE Patience, good lady; wizards know their times: + Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, + The time of night when Troy was set on fire; + The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, + And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves, + That time best fits the work we have in hand. + Madam, sit you and fear not: whom we raise, + We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. + + [Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the + circle; BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads, Conjuro te, + &c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the + Spirit riseth] + +Spirit Adsum. + +MARGARET JOURDAIN Asmath, + By the eternal God, whose name and power + Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask; + For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence. + +Spirit Ask what thou wilt. That I had said and done! + +BOLINGBROKE 'First of the king: what shall of him become?' + + [Reading out of a paper] + +Spirit The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose; + But him outlive, and die a violent death. + + [As the Spirit speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer] + +BOLINGBROKE 'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?' + +Spirit By water shall he die, and take his end. + +BOLINGBROKE 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?' + +Spirit Let him shun castles; + Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains + Than where castles mounted stand. + Have done, for more I hardly can endure. + +BOLINGBROKE Descend to darkness and the burning lake! + False fiend, avoid! + + [Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit] + + [Enter YORK and BUCKINGHAM with their Guard + and break in] + +YORK Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash. + Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch. + What, madam, are you there? the king and commonweal + Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains: + My lord protector will, I doubt it not, + See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts. + +DUCHESS Not half so bad as thine to England's king, + Injurious duke, that threatest where's no cause. + +BUCKINGHAM True, madam, none at all: what call you this? + Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close. + And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us. + Stafford, take her to thee. + + [Exeunt above DUCHESS and HUME, guarded] + + We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. + All, away! + + [Exeunt guard with MARGARET JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, &c] + +YORK Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well: + A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! + Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. + What have we here? + + [Reads] + + 'The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose; + But him outlive, and die a violent death.' + Why, this is just + 'Aio te, AEacida, Romanos vincere posse.' + Well, to the rest: + 'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? + By water shall he die, and take his end. + What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? + Let him shun castles; + Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains + Than where castles mounted stand.' + Come, come, my lords; + These oracles are hardly attain'd, + And hardly understood. + The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's, + With him the husband of this lovely lady: + Thither go these news, as fast as horse can + carry them: + A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. + +BUCKINGHAM Your grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, + To be the post, in hope of his reward. + +YORK At your pleasure, my good lord. Who's within + there, ho! + + [Enter a Servingman] + + Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick + To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Saint Alban's. + + + [Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, GLOUCESTER, + CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers halloing] + +QUEEN MARGARET Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook, + I saw not better sport these seven years' day: + Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high; + And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. + +KING HENRY VI But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, + And what a pitch she flew above the rest! + To see how God in all his creatures works! + Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. + +SUFFOLK No marvel, an it like your majesty, + My lord protector's hawks do tower so well; + They know their master loves to be aloft, + And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. + +GLOUCESTER My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind + That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. + +CARDINAL I thought as much; he would be above the clouds. + +GLOUCESTER Ay, my lord cardinal? how think you by that? + Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven? + +KING HENRY VI The treasury of everlasting joy. + +CARDINAL Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts + Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; + Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, + That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal! + +GLOUCESTER What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory? + Tantaene animis coelestibus irae? + Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice; + With such holiness can you do it? + +SUFFOLK No malice, sir; no more than well becomes + So good a quarrel and so bad a peer. + +GLOUCESTER As who, my lord? + +SUFFOLK Why, as you, my lord, + An't like your lordly lord-protectorship. + +GLOUCESTER Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. + +QUEEN MARGARET And thy ambition, Gloucester. + +KING HENRY VI I prithee, peace, good queen, + And whet not on these furious peers; + For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. + +CARDINAL Let me be blessed for the peace I make, + Against this proud protector, with my sword! + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CARDINAL] Faith, holy uncle, would + 'twere come to that! + +CARDINAL [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Marry, when thou darest. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CARDINAL] Make up no factious + numbers for the matter; + In thine own person answer thy abuse. + +CARDINAL [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Ay, where thou darest + not peep: an if thou darest, + This evening, on the east side of the grove. + +KING HENRY VI How now, my lords! + +CARDINAL Believe me, cousin Gloucester, + Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, + We had had more sport. + + [Aside to GLOUCESTER] + + Come with thy two-hand sword. + +GLOUCESTER True, uncle. + +CARDINAL [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Are ye advised? the + east side of the grove? + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CARDINAL] Cardinal, I am with you. + +KING HENRY VI Why, how now, uncle Gloucester! + +GLOUCESTER Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. + + [Aside to CARDINAL] + + Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this, + Or all my fence shall fail. + +CARDINAL [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Medice, teipsum-- + Protector, see to't well, protect yourself. + +KING HENRY VI The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. + How irksome is this music to my heart! + When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? + I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. + + [Enter a Townsman of Saint Alban's, crying 'A miracle!'] + +GLOUCESTER What means this noise? + Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? + +Townsman A miracle! a miracle! + +SUFFOLK Come to the king and tell him what miracle. + +Townsman Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine, + Within this half-hour, hath received his sight; + A man that ne'er saw in his life before. + +KING HENRY VI Now, God be praised, that to believing souls + Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! + + [Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban's and his + brethren, bearing SIMPCOX, between two in a + chair, SIMPCOX's Wife following] + +CARDINAL Here comes the townsmen on procession, + To present your highness with the man. + +KING HENRY VI Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, + Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. + +GLOUCESTER Stand by, my masters: bring him near the king; + His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. + +KING HENRY VI Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, + That we for thee may glorify the Lord. + What, hast thou been long blind and now restored? + +SIMPCOX Born blind, an't please your grace. + +Wife Ay, indeed, was he. + +SUFFOLK What woman is this? + +Wife His wife, an't like your worship. + +GLOUCESTER Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have + better told. + +KING HENRY VI Where wert thou born? + +SIMPCOX At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace. + +KING HENRY VI Poor soul, God's goodness hath been great to thee: + Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, + But still remember what the Lord hath done. + +QUEEN MARGARET Tell me, good fellow, camest thou here by chance, + Or of devotion, to this holy shrine? + +SIMPCOX God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd + A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep, + By good Saint Alban; who said, 'Simpcox, come, + Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.' + +Wife Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft + Myself have heard a voice to call him so. + +CARDINAL What, art thou lame? + +SIMPCOX Ay, God Almighty help me! + +SUFFOLK How camest thou so? + +SIMPCOX A fall off of a tree. + +Wife A plum-tree, master. + +GLOUCESTER How long hast thou been blind? + +SIMPCOX Born so, master. + +GLOUCESTER What, and wouldst climb a tree? + +SIMPCOX But that in all my life, when I was a youth. + +Wife Too true; and bought his climbing very dear. + +GLOUCESTER Mass, thou lovedst plums well, that wouldst + venture so. + +SIMPCOX Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, + And made me climb, with danger of my life. + +GLOUCESTER A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve. + Let me see thine eyes: wink now: now open them: + In my opinion yet thou seest not well. + +SIMPCOX Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and + Saint Alban. + +GLOUCESTER Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of? + +SIMPCOX Red, master; red as blood. + +GLOUCESTER Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of? + +SIMPCOX Black, forsooth: coal-black as jet. + +KING HENRY VI Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of? + +SUFFOLK And yet, I think, jet did he never see. + +GLOUCESTER But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many. + +Wife Never, before this day, in all his life. + +GLOUCESTER Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? + +SIMPCOX Alas, master, I know not. + +GLOUCESTER What's his name? + +SIMPCOX I know not. + +GLOUCESTER Nor his? + +SIMPCOX No, indeed, master. + +GLOUCESTER What's thine own name? + +SIMPCOX Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master. + +GLOUCESTER Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest knave in + Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou + mightest as well have known all our names as thus to + name the several colours we do wear. Sight may + distinguish of colours, but suddenly to nominate them + all, it is impossible. My lords, Saint Alban here + hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his + cunning to be great, that could restore this cripple + to his legs again? + +SIMPCOX O master, that you could! + +GLOUCESTER My masters of Saint Alban's, have you not beadles in + your town, and things called whips? + +Mayor Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. + +GLOUCESTER Then send for one presently. + +Mayor Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. + + [Exit an Attendant] + +GLOUCESTER Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. Now, sirrah, + if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me + over this stool and run away. + +SIMPCOX Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone: + You go about to torture me in vain. + + [Enter a Beadle with whips] + +GLOUCESTER Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah + beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. + +Beadle I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah; off with your + doublet quickly. + +SIMPCOX Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand. + + [After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over + the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry, 'A miracle!'] + +KING HENRY VI O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long? + +QUEEN MARGARET It made me laugh to see the villain run. + +GLOUCESTER Follow the knave; and take this drab away. + +Wife Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. + +GLOUCESTER Let them be whipped through every market-town, till + they come to Berwick, from whence they came. + + [Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, &c] + +CARDINAL Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day. + +SUFFOLK True; made the lame to leap and fly away. + +GLOUCESTER But you have done more miracles than I; + You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM] + +KING HENRY VI What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. + A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, + Under the countenance and confederacy + Of Lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, + The ringleader and head of all this rout, + Have practised dangerously against your state, + Dealing with witches and with conjurers: + Whom we have apprehended in the fact; + Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, + Demanding of King Henry's life and death, + And other of your highness' privy-council; + As more at large your grace shall understand. + +CARDINAL [Aside to GLOUCESTER] And so, my lord protector, + by this means + Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. + This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge; + 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. + +GLOUCESTER Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart: + Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers; + And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee, + Or to the meanest groom. + +KING HENRY VI O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, + Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! + +QUEEN MARGARET Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest. + And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. + +GLOUCESTER Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal, + How I have loved my king and commonweal: + And, for my wife, I know not how it stands; + Sorry I am to hear what I have heard: + Noble she is, but if she have forgot + Honour and virtue and conversed with such + As, like to pitch, defile nobility, + I banish her my bed and company + And give her as a prey to law and shame, + That hath dishonour'd Gloucester's honest name. + +KING HENRY VI Well, for this night we will repose us here: + To-morrow toward London back again, + To look into this business thoroughly + And call these foul offenders to their answers + And poise the cause in justice' equal scales, + Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II London. YORK'S garden. + + + [Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK] + +YORK Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, + Our simple supper ended, give me leave + In this close walk to satisfy myself, + In craving your opinion of my title, + Which is infallible, to England's crown. + +SALISBURY My lord, I long to hear it at full. + +WARWICK Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim be good, + The Nevils are thy subjects to command. + +YORK Then thus: + Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: + The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; + The second, William of Hatfield, and the third, + Lionel Duke of Clarence: next to whom + Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; + The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; + The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; + William of Windsor was the seventh and last. + Edward the Black Prince died before his father + And left behind him Richard, his only son, + Who after Edward the Third's death reign'd as king; + Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, + The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, + Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, + Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, + Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came, + And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, + Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously. + +WARWICK Father, the duke hath told the truth: + Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. + +YORK Which now they hold by force and not by right; + For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, + The issue of the next son should have reign'd. + +SALISBURY But William of Hatfield died without an heir. + +YORK The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line + I claimed the crown, had issue, Philippe, a daughter, + Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March: + Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March; + Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor. + +SALISBURY This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, + As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; + And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, + Who kept him in captivity till he died. + But to the rest. + +YORK His eldest sister, Anne, + My mother, being heir unto the crown + Married Richard Earl of Cambridge; who was son + To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. + By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir + To Roger Earl of March, who was the son + Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe, + Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence: + So, if the issue of the elder son + Succeed before the younger, I am king. + +WARWICK What plain proceeding is more plain than this? + Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, + The fourth son; York claims it from the third. + Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign: + It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee + And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. + Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together; + And in this private plot be we the first + That shall salute our rightful sovereign + With honour of his birthright to the crown. + +BOTH Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king! + +YORK We thank you, lords. But I am not your king + Till I be crown'd and that my sword be stain'd + With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; + And that's not suddenly to be perform'd, + But with advice and silent secrecy. + Do you as I do in these dangerous days: + Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, + At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, + At Buckingham and all the crew of them, + Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, + That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey: + 'Tis that they seek, and they in seeking that + Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. + +SALISBURY My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full. + +WARWICK My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick + Shall one day make the Duke of York a king. + +YORK And, Nevil, this I do assure myself: + Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick + The greatest man in England but the king. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A hall of justice. + + + [Sound trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN + MARGARET, GLOUCESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and SALISBURY; + the DUCHESS, MARGARET JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, HUME, + and BOLINGBROKE, under guard] + +KING HENRY VI Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife: + In sight of God and us, your guilt is great: + Receive the sentence of the law for sins + Such as by God's book are adjudged to death. + You four, from hence to prison back again; + From thence unto the place of execution: + The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes, + And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. + You, madam, for you are more nobly born, + Despoiled of your honour in your life, + Shall, after three days' open penance done, + Live in your country here in banishment, + With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man. + +DUCHESS Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death. + +GLOUCESTER Eleanor, the law, thou see'st, hath judged thee: + I cannot justify whom the law condemns. + + [Exeunt DUCHESS and other prisoners, guarded] + + Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. + Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age + Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! + I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go; + Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease. + +KING HENRY VI Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester: ere thou go, + Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself + Protector be; and God shall be my hope, + My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet: + And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved + Than when thou wert protector to thy King. + +QUEEN MARGARET I see no reason why a king of years + Should be to be protected like a child. + God and King Henry govern England's realm. + Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. + +GLOUCESTER My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff: + As willingly do I the same resign + As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; + And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it + As others would ambitiously receive it. + Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone, + May honourable peace attend thy throne! + + [Exit] + +QUEEN MARGARET Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen; + And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, + That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once; + His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off. + This staff of honour raught, there let it stand + Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. + +SUFFOLK Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; + Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. + +YORK Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty, + This is the day appointed for the combat; + And ready are the appellant and defendant, + The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, + So please your highness to behold the fight. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore + Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. + +KING HENRY VI O God's name, see the lists and all things fit: + Here let them end it; and God defend the right! + +YORK I never saw a fellow worse bested, + Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, + The servant of this armourer, my lords. + + [Enter at one door, HORNER, the Armourer, and his + Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; + and he enters with a drum before him and his staff + with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the other + door PETER, his man, with a drum and sand-bag, and + 'Prentices drinking to him] + +First Neighbour Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of + sack: and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough. + +Second Neighbour And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco. + +Third Neighbour And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: + drink, and fear not your man. + +HORNER Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; and + a fig for Peter! + +First 'Prentice Here, Peter, I drink to thee: and be not afraid. + +Second 'Prentice Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight + for credit of the 'prentices. + +PETER I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I pray + you; for I think I have taken my last draught in + this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee + my apron: and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer: + and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O + Lord bless me! I pray God! for I am never able to + deal with my master, he hath learnt me so much fence already. + +SALISBURY Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. + Sirrah, what's thy name? + +PETER Peter, forsooth. + +SALISBURY Peter! what more? + +PETER Thump. + +SALISBURY Thump! then see thou thump thy master well. + +HORNER Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's + instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an + honest man: and touching the Duke of York, I will + take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the + king, nor the queen: and therefore, Peter, have at + thee with a downright blow! + +YORK Dispatch: this knave's tongue begins to double. + Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants! + + [Alarum. They fight, and PETER strikes him down] + +HORNER Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason. + + [Dies] + +YORK Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the + good wine in thy master's way. + +PETER O God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence? + O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right! + +KING HENRY VI Go, take hence that traitor from our sight; + For his death we do perceive his guilt: + And God in justice hath revealed to us + The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, + Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully. + Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. + + [Sound a flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV A street. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER and his Servingmen, in + mourning cloaks] + +GLOUCESTER Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; + And after summer evermore succeeds + Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: + So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. + Sirs, what's o'clock? + +Servants Ten, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER Ten is the hour that was appointed me + To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess: + Uneath may she endure the flinty streets, + To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. + Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook + The abject people gazing on thy face, + With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, + That erst did follow thy proud chariot-wheels + When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. + But, soft! I think she comes; and I'll prepare + My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. + + [Enter the DUCHESS in a white sheet, and a taper + burning in her hand; with STANLEY, the Sheriff, + and Officers] + +Servant So please your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff. + +GLOUCESTER No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by. + +DUCHESS Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? + Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze! + See how the giddy multitude do point, + And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee! + Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, + And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, + And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine! + +GLOUCESTER Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief. + +DUCHESS Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself! + For whilst I think I am thy married wife + And thou a prince, protector of this land, + Methinks I should not thus be led along, + Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back, + And followed with a rabble that rejoice + To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans. + The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, + And when I start, the envious people laugh + And bid me be advised how I tread. + Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? + Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world, + Or count them happy that enjoy the sun? + No; dark shall be my light and night my day; + To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. + Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humphrey's wife, + And he a prince and ruler of the land: + Yet so he ruled and such a prince he was + As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess, + Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock + To every idle rascal follower. + But be thou mild and blush not at my shame, + Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death + Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will; + For Suffolk, he that can do all in all + With her that hateth thee and hates us all, + And York and impious Beaufort, that false priest, + Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings, + And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee: + But fear not thou, until thy foot be snared, + Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. + +GLOUCESTER Ah, Nell, forbear! thou aimest all awry; + I must offend before I be attainted; + And had I twenty times so many foes, + And each of them had twenty times their power, + All these could not procure me any scathe, + So long as I am loyal, true and crimeless. + Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? + Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away + But I in danger for the breach of law. + Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: + I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience; + These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. + + [Enter a Herald] + +Herald I summon your grace to his majesty's parliament, + Holden at Bury the first of this next month. + +GLOUCESTER And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before! + This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. + + [Exit Herald] + + My Nell, I take my leave: and, master sheriff, + Let not her penance exceed the king's commission. + +Sheriff An't please your grace, here my commission stays, + And Sir John Stanley is appointed now + To take her with him to the Isle of Man. + +GLOUCESTER Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here? + +STANLEY So am I given in charge, may't please your grace. + +GLOUCESTER Entreat her not the worse in that I pray + You use her well: the world may laugh again; + And I may live to do you kindness if + You do it her: and so, Sir John, farewell! + +DUCHESS What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell! + +GLOUCESTER Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. + + [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Servingmen] + +DUCHESS Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee! + For none abides with me: my joy is death; + Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd, + Because I wish'd this world's eternity. + Stanley, I prithee, go, and take me hence; + I care not whither, for I beg no favour, + Only convey me where thou art commanded. + +STANLEY Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man; + There to be used according to your state. + +DUCHESS That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: + And shall I then be used reproachfully? + +STANLEY Like to a duchess, and Duke Humphrey's lady; + According to that state you shall be used. + +DUCHESS Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, + Although thou hast been conduct of my shame. + +Sheriff It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. + +DUCHESS Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged. + Come, Stanley, shall we go? + +STANLEY Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, + And go we to attire you for our journey. + +DUCHESS My shame will not be shifted with my sheet: + No, it will hang upon my richest robes + And show itself, attire me how I can. + Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I The Abbey at Bury St. Edmund's. + + + [Sound a sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN + MARGARET, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM, + SALISBURY and WARWICK to the Parliament] + +KING HENRY VI I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come: + 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, + Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. + +QUEEN MARGARET Can you not see? or will ye not observe + The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? + With what a majesty he bears himself, + How insolent of late he is become, + How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? + We know the time since he was mild and affable, + And if we did but glance a far-off look, + Immediately he was upon his knee, + That all the court admired him for submission: + But meet him now, and, be it in the morn, + When every one will give the time of day, + He knits his brow and shows an angry eye, + And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, + Disdaining duty that to us belongs. + Small curs are not regarded when they grin; + But great men tremble when the lion roars; + And Humphrey is no little man in England. + First note that he is near you in descent, + And should you fall, he as the next will mount. + Me seemeth then it is no policy, + Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears + And his advantage following your decease, + That he should come about your royal person + Or be admitted to your highness' council. + By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts, + And when he please to make commotion, + 'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. + Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; + Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden + And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. + The reverent care I bear unto my lord + Made me collect these dangers in the duke. + If it be fond, call it a woman's fear; + Which fear if better reasons can supplant, + I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke. + My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, + Reprove my allegation, if you can; + Or else conclude my words effectual. + +SUFFOLK Well hath your highness seen into this duke; + And, had I first been put to speak my mind, + I think I should have told your grace's tale. + The duchess, by his subornation, + Upon my life, began her devilish practises: + Or, if he were not privy to those faults, + Yet, by reputing of his high descent, + As next the king he was successive heir, + And such high vaunts of his nobility, + Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess + By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. + Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep; + And in his simple show he harbours treason. + The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. + No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man + Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit. + +CARDINAL Did he not, contrary to form of law, + Devise strange deaths for small offences done? + +YORK And did he not, in his protectorship, + Levy great sums of money through the realm + For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? + By means whereof the towns each day revolted. + +BUCKINGHAM Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown. + Which time will bring to light in smooth + Duke Humphrey. + +KING HENRY VI My lords, at once: the care you have of us, + To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, + Is worthy praise: but, shall I speak my conscience, + Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent + From meaning treason to our royal person + As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove: + The duke is virtuous, mild and too well given + To dream on evil or to work my downfall. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance! + Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrowed, + For he's disposed as the hateful raven: + Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him, + For he's inclined as is the ravenous wolf. + Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? + Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all + Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. + + [Enter SOMERSET] + +SOMERSET All health unto my gracious sovereign! + +KING HENRY VI Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France? + +SOMERSET That all your interest in those territories + Is utterly bereft you; all is lost. + +KING HENRY VI Cold news, Lord Somerset: but God's will be done! + +YORK [Aside] Cold news for me; for I had hope of France + As firmly as I hope for fertile England. + Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud + And caterpillars eat my leaves away; + But I will remedy this gear ere long, + Or sell my title for a glorious grave. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER All happiness unto my lord the king! + Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long. + +SUFFOLK Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon, + Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: + I do arrest thee of high treason here. + +GLOUCESTER Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush + Nor change my countenance for this arrest: + A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. + The purest spring is not so free from mud + As I am clear from treason to my sovereign: + Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty? + +YORK 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France, + And, being protector, stayed the soldiers' pay; + By means whereof his highness hath lost France. + +GLOUCESTER Is it but thought so? what are they that think it? + I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay, + Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. + So help me God, as I have watch'd the night, + Ay, night by night, in studying good for England, + That doit that e'er I wrested from the king, + Or any groat I hoarded to my use, + Be brought against me at my trial-day! + No; many a pound of mine own proper store, + Because I would not tax the needy commons, + Have I disbursed to the garrisons, + And never ask'd for restitution. + +CARDINAL It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. + +GLOUCESTER I say no more than truth, so help me God! + +YORK In your protectorship you did devise + Strange tortures for offenders never heard of, + That England was defamed by tyranny. + +GLOUCESTER Why, 'tis well known that, whiles I was + protector, + Pity was all the fault that was in me; + For I should melt at an offender's tears, + And lowly words were ransom for their fault. + Unless it were a bloody murderer, + Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers, + I never gave them condign punishment: + Murder indeed, that bloody sin, I tortured + Above the felon or what trespass else. + +SUFFOLK My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered: + But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, + Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. + I do arrest you in his highness' name; + And here commit you to my lord cardinal + To keep, until your further time of trial. + +KING HENRY VI My lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope + That you will clear yourself from all suspect: + My conscience tells me you are innocent. + +GLOUCESTER Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous: + Virtue is choked with foul ambition + And charity chased hence by rancour's hand; + Foul subornation is predominant + And equity exiled your highness' land. + I know their complot is to have my life, + And if my death might make this island happy, + And prove the period of their tyranny, + I would expend it with all willingness: + But mine is made the prologue to their play; + For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, + Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. + Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, + And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; + Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue + The envious load that lies upon his heart; + And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, + Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, + By false accuse doth level at my life: + And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, + Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, + And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up + My liefest liege to be mine enemy: + Ay, all you have laid your heads together-- + Myself had notice of your conventicles-- + And all to make away my guiltless life. + I shall not want false witness to condemn me, + Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt; + The ancient proverb will be well effected: + 'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.' + +CARDINAL My liege, his railing is intolerable: + If those that care to keep your royal person + From treason's secret knife and traitors' rage + Be thus upbraided, chid and rated at, + And the offender granted scope of speech, + 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace. + +SUFFOLK Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here + With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, + As if she had suborned some to swear + False allegations to o'erthrow his state? + +QUEEN MARGARET But I can give the loser leave to chide. + +GLOUCESTER Far truer spoke than meant: I lose, indeed; + Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false! + And well such losers may have leave to speak. + +BUCKINGHAM He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day: + Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. + +CARDINAL Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. + +GLOUCESTER Ah! thus King Henry throws away his crutch + Before his legs be firm to bear his body. + Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, + And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. + Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were! + For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. + + [Exit, guarded] + +KING HENRY VI My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best, + Do or undo, as if ourself were here. + +QUEEN MARGARET What, will your highness leave the parliament? + +KING HENRY VI Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief, + Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes, + My body round engirt with misery, + For what's more miserable than discontent? + Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see + The map of honour, truth and loyalty: + And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come + That e'er I proved thee false or fear'd thy faith. + What louring star now envies thy estate, + That these great lords and Margaret our queen + Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? + Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong; + And as the butcher takes away the calf + And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, + Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house, + Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; + And as the dam runs lowing up and down, + Looking the way her harmless young one went, + And can do nought but wail her darling's loss, + Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case + With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes + Look after him and cannot do him good, + So mighty are his vowed enemies. + His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan + Say 'Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.' + + [Exeunt all but QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL, + SUFFOLK, and YORK; SOMERSET remains apart] + +QUEEN MARGARET Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams. + Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, + Too full of foolish pity, and Gloucester's show + Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile + With sorrow snares relenting passengers, + Or as the snake roll'd in a flowering bank, + With shining chequer'd slough, doth sting a child + That for the beauty thinks it excellent. + Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I-- + And yet herein I judge mine own wit good-- + This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world, + To rid us of the fear we have of him. + +CARDINAL That he should die is worthy policy; + But yet we want a colour for his death: + 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law. + +SUFFOLK But, in my mind, that were no policy: + The king will labour still to save his life, + The commons haply rise, to save his life; + And yet we have but trivial argument, + More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. + +YORK So that, by this, you would not have him die. + +SUFFOLK Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I! + +YORK 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death. + But, my lord cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk, + Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, + Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set + To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, + As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector? + +QUEEN MARGARET So the poor chicken should be sure of death. + +SUFFOLK Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness, then, + To make the fox surveyor of the fold? + Who being accused a crafty murderer, + His guilt should be but idly posted over, + Because his purpose is not executed. + No; let him die, in that he is a fox, + By nature proved an enemy to the flock, + Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood, + As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege. + And do not stand on quillets how to slay him: + Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, + Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, + So he be dead; for that is good deceit + Which mates him first that first intends deceit. + +QUEEN MARGARET Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke. + +SUFFOLK Not resolute, except so much were done; + For things are often spoke and seldom meant: + But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, + Seeing the deed is meritorious, + And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, + Say but the word, and I will be his priest. + +CARDINAL But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, + Ere you can take due orders for a priest: + Say you consent and censure well the deed, + And I'll provide his executioner, + I tender so the safety of my liege. + +SUFFOLK Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. + +QUEEN MARGARET And so say I. + +YORK And I and now we three have spoke it, + It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. + + [Enter a Post] + +Post Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, + To signify that rebels there are up + And put the Englishmen unto the sword: + Send succors, lords, and stop the rage betime, + Before the wound do grow uncurable; + For, being green, there is great hope of help. + +CARDINAL A breach that craves a quick expedient stop! + What counsel give you in this weighty cause? + +YORK That Somerset be sent as regent thither: + 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd; + Witness the fortune he hath had in France. + +SOMERSET If York, with all his far-fet policy, + Had been the regent there instead of me, + He never would have stay'd in France so long. + +YORK No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done: + I rather would have lost my life betimes + Than bring a burthen of dishonour home + By staying there so long till all were lost. + Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: + Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win. + +QUEEN MARGARET Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire, + If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with: + No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still: + Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, + Might happily have proved far worse than his. + +YORK What, worse than nought? nay, then, a shame take all! + +SOMERSET And, in the number, thee that wishest shame! + +CARDINAL My Lord of York, try what your fortune is. + The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms + And temper clay with blood of Englishmen: + To Ireland will you lead a band of men, + Collected choicely, from each county some, + And try your hap against the Irishmen? + +YORK I will, my lord, so please his majesty. + +SUFFOLK Why, our authority is his consent, + And what we do establish he confirms: + Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. + +YORK I am content: provide me soldiers, lords, + Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. + +SUFFOLK A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd. + But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. + +CARDINAL No more of him; for I will deal with him + That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. + And so break off; the day is almost spent: + Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. + +YORK My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days + At Bristol I expect my soldiers; + For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. + +SUFFOLK I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. + + [Exeunt all but YORK] + +YORK Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, + And change misdoubt to resolution: + Be that thou hopest to be, or what thou art + Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying: + Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man, + And find no harbour in a royal heart. + Faster than spring-time showers comes thought + on thought, + And not a thought but thinks on dignity. + My brain more busy than the labouring spider + Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. + Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done, + To send me packing with an host of men: + I fear me you but warm the starved snake, + Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting + your hearts. + 'Twas men I lack'd and you will give them me: + I take it kindly; and yet be well assured + You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. + Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, + I will stir up in England some black storm + Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell; + And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage + Until the golden circuit on my head, + Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, + Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw. + And, for a minister of my intent, + I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, + John Cade of Ashford, + To make commotion, as full well he can, + Under the title of John Mortimer. + In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade + Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, + And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts + Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine; + And, in the end being rescued, I have seen + Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, + Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells. + Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern, + Hath he conversed with the enemy, + And undiscover'd come to me again + And given me notice of their villanies. + This devil here shall be my substitute; + For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, + In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble: + By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, + How they affect the house and claim of York. + Say he be taken, rack'd and tortured, + I know no pain they can inflict upon him + Will make him say I moved him to those arms. + Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, + Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength + And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd; + For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, + And Henry put apart, the next for me. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Bury St. Edmund's. A room of state. + + + [Enter certain Murderers, hastily] + +First Murderer Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know + We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded. + +Second Murderer O that it were to do! What have we done? + Didst ever hear a man so penitent? + + [Enter SUFFOLK] + +First Murder Here comes my lord. + +SUFFOLK Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing? + +First Murderer Ay, my good lord, he's dead. + +SUFFOLK Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house; + I will reward you for this venturous deed. + The king and all the peers are here at hand. + Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, + According as I gave directions? + +First Murderer 'Tis, my good lord. + +SUFFOLK Away! be gone. + + [Exeunt Murderers] + + [Sound trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN + MARGARET, CARDINAL, SOMERSET, with Attendants] + +KING HENRY VI Go, call our uncle to our presence straight; + Say we intend to try his grace to-day. + If he be guilty, as 'tis published. + +SUFFOLK I'll call him presently, my noble lord. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY VI Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all, + Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester + Than from true evidence of good esteem + He be approved in practise culpable. + +QUEEN MARGARET God forbid any malice should prevail, + That faultless may condemn a nobleman! + Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion! + +KING HENRY VI I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much. + + [Re-enter SUFFOLK] + + How now! why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? + Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk? + +SUFFOLK Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester is dead. + +QUEEN MARGARET Marry, God forfend! + +CARDINAL God's secret judgment: I did dream to-night + The duke was dumb and could not speak a word. + + [KING HENRY VI swoons] + +QUEEN MARGARET How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is dead. + +SOMERSET Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. + +QUEEN MARGARET Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes! + +SUFFOLK He doth revive again: madam, be patient. + +KING HENRY VI O heavenly God! + +QUEEN MARGARET How fares my gracious lord? + +SUFFOLK Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort! + +KING HENRY VI What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? + Came he right now to sing a raven's note, + Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; + And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, + By crying comfort from a hollow breast, + Can chase away the first-conceived sound? + Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words; + Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say; + Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting. + Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! + Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny + Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. + Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding: + Yet do not go away: come, basilisk, + And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; + For in the shade of death I shall find joy; + In life but double death, now Gloucester's dead. + +QUEEN MARGARET Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus? + Although the duke was enemy to him, + Yet he most Christian-like laments his death: + And for myself, foe as he was to me, + Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans + Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, + I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, + Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, + And all to have the noble duke alive. + What know I how the world may deem of me? + For it is known we were but hollow friends: + It may be judged I made the duke away; + So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, + And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach. + This get I by his death: ay me, unhappy! + To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! + +KING HENRY VI Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man! + +QUEEN MARGARET Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. + What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face? + I am no loathsome leper; look on me. + What! art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? + Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen. + Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb? + Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy. + Erect his statue and worship it, + And make my image but an alehouse sign. + Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea + And twice by awkward wind from England's bank + Drove back again unto my native clime? + What boded this, but well forewarning wind + Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest, + Nor set no footing on this unkind shore'? + What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts + And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves: + And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, + Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock + Yet AEolus would not be a murderer, + But left that hateful office unto thee: + The pretty-vaulting sea refused to drown me, + Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore, + With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness: + The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands + And would not dash me with their ragged sides, + Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, + Might in thy palace perish Margaret. + As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, + When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, + I stood upon the hatches in the storm, + And when the dusky sky began to rob + My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, + I took a costly jewel from my neck, + A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, + And threw it towards thy land: the sea received it, + And so I wish'd thy body might my heart: + And even with this I lost fair England's view + And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart + And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles, + For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. + How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue, + The agent of thy foul inconstancy, + To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did + When he to madding Dido would unfold + His father's acts commenced in burning Troy! + Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him? + Ay me, I can no more! die, Margaret! + For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. + + [Noise within. Enter WARWICK, SALISBURY, and many Commons] + +WARWICK It is reported, mighty sovereign, + That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd + By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means. + The commons, like an angry hive of bees + That want their leader, scatter up and down + And care not who they sting in his revenge. + Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, + Until they hear the order of his death. + +KING HENRY VI That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true; + But how he died God knows, not Henry: + Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, + And comment then upon his sudden death. + +WARWICK That shall I do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury, + With the rude multitude till I return. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY VI O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts, + My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul + Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life! + If my suspect be false, forgive me, God, + For judgment only doth belong to thee. + Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips + With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain + Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, + To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, + And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling: + But all in vain are these mean obsequies; + And to survey his dead and earthly image, + What were it but to make my sorrow greater? + + [Re-enter WARWICK and others, bearing + GLOUCESTER'S body on a bed] + +WARWICK Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body. + +KING HENRY VI That is to see how deep my grave is made; + For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, + For seeing him I see my life in death. + +WARWICK As surely as my soul intends to live + With that dread King that took our state upon him + To free us from his father's wrathful curse, + I do believe that violent hands were laid + Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. + +SUFFOLK A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! + What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? + +WARWICK See how the blood is settled in his face. + Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, + Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale and bloodless, + Being all descended to the labouring heart; + Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, + Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; + Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth + To blush and beautify the cheek again. + But see, his face is black and full of blood, + His eye-balls further out than when he lived, + Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; + His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretched with struggling; + His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd + And tugg'd for life and was by strength subdued: + Look, on the sheets his hair you see, is sticking; + His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, + Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. + It cannot be but he was murder'd here; + The least of all these signs were probable. + +SUFFOLK Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death? + Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; + And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. + +WARWICK But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes, + And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep: + 'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; + And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. + +QUEEN MARGARET Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen + As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death. + +WARWICK Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh + And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, + But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? + Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, + But may imagine how the bird was dead, + Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? + Even so suspicious is this tragedy. + +QUEEN MARGARET Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where's your knife? + Is Beaufort term'd a kite? Where are his talons? + +SUFFOLK I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; + But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, + That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart + That slanders me with murder's crimson badge. + Say, if thou darest, proud Lord of Warwick-shire, + That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death. + + [Exeunt CARDINAL, SOMERSET, and others] + +WARWICK What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? + +QUEEN MARGARET He dares not calm his contumelious spirit + Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, + Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. + +WARWICK Madam, be still; with reverence may I say; + For every word you speak in his behalf + Is slander to your royal dignity. + +SUFFOLK Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanor! + If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, + Thy mother took into her blameful bed + Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock + Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art, + And never of the Nevils' noble race. + +WARWICK But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee + And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, + Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, + And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, + I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee + Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, + And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st + That thou thyself was born in bastardy; + And after all this fearful homage done, + Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, + Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men! + +SUFFOLK Thou shall be waking well I shed thy blood, + If from this presence thou darest go with me. + +WARWICK Away even now, or I will drag thee hence: + Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee + And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost. + + [Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK] + +KING HENRY VI What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, + And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + [A noise within] + +QUEEN MARGARET What noise is this? + + [Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their + weapons drawn] + +KING HENRY VI Why, how now, lords! your wrathful weapons drawn + Here in our presence! dare you be so bold? + Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? + +SUFFOLK The traitorous Warwick with the men of Bury + Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. + +SALISBURY [To the Commons, entering] Sirs, stand apart; + the king shall know your mind. + Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, + Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, + Or banished fair England's territories, + They will by violence tear him from your palace + And torture him with grievous lingering death. + They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died; + They say, in him they fear your highness' death; + And mere instinct of love and loyalty, + Free from a stubborn opposite intent, + As being thought to contradict your liking, + Makes them thus forward in his banishment. + They say, in care of your most royal person, + That if your highness should intend to sleep + And charge that no man should disturb your rest + In pain of your dislike or pain of death, + Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, + Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, + That slily glided towards your majesty, + It were but necessary you were waked, + Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, + The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal; + And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, + That they will guard you, whether you will or no, + From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is, + With whose envenomed and fatal sting, + Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, + They say, is shamefully bereft of life. + +Commons [Within] An answer from the king, my + Lord of Salisbury! + +SUFFOLK 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, + Could send such message to their sovereign: + But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, + To show how quaint an orator you are: + But all the honour Salisbury hath won + Is, that he was the lord ambassador + Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. + +Commons [Within] An answer from the king, or we will all break in! + +KING HENRY VI Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me. + I thank them for their tender loving care; + And had I not been cited so by them, + Yet did I purpose as they do entreat; + For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy + Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means: + And therefore, by His majesty I swear, + Whose far unworthy deputy I am, + He shall not breathe infection in this air + But three days longer, on the pain of death. + + [Exit SALISBURY] + +QUEEN MARGARET O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk! + +KING HENRY VI Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk! + No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him, + Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. + Had I but said, I would have kept my word, + But when I swear, it is irrevocable. + If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found + On any ground that I am ruler of, + The world shall not be ransom for thy life. + Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me; + I have great matters to impart to thee. + + [Exeunt all but QUEEN MARGARET and SUFFOLK] + +QUEEN MARGARET Mischance and sorrow go along with you! + Heart's discontent and sour affliction + Be playfellows to keep you company! + There's two of you; the devil make a third! + And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! + +SUFFOLK Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, + And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. + +QUEEN MARGARET Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! + Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy? + +SUFFOLK A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? + Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, + I would invent as bitter-searching terms, + As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear, + Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, + With full as many signs of deadly hate, + As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: + My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; + Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; + Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract; + Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: + And even now my burthen'd heart would break, + Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! + Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! + Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees! + Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks! + Their softest touch as smart as lizards' sting! + Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss, + And boding screech-owls make the concert full! + All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-- + +QUEEN MARGARET Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself; + And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, + Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, + And turn the force of them upon thyself. + +SUFFOLK You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? + Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, + Well could I curse away a winter's night, + Though standing naked on a mountain top, + Where biting cold would never let grass grow, + And think it but a minute spent in sport. + +QUEEN MARGARET O, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand, + That I may dew it with my mournful tears; + Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, + To wash away my woful monuments. + O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, + That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, + Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee! + So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; + 'Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by, + As one that surfeits thinking on a want. + I will repeal thee, or, be well assured, + Adventure to be banished myself: + And banished I am, if but from thee. + Go; speak not to me; even now be gone. + O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd + Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves, + Loather a hundred times to part than die. + Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! + +SUFFOLK Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished; + Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. + 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence; + A wilderness is populous enough, + So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: + For where thou art, there is the world itself, + With every several pleasure in the world, + And where thou art not, desolation. + I can no more: live thou to joy thy life; + Myself no joy in nought but that thou livest. + + [Enter VAUX] + +QUEEN MARGARET Wither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I prithee? + +VAUX To signify unto his majesty + That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death; + For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, + That makes him gasp and stare and catch the air, + Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth. + Sometimes he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost + Were by his side; sometime he calls the king, + And whispers to his pillow, as to him, + The secrets of his overcharged soul; + And I am sent to tell his majesty + That even now he cries aloud for him. + +QUEEN MARGARET Go tell this heavy message to the king. + + [Exit VAUX] + + Ay me! what is this world! what news are these! + But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, + Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? + Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, + And with the southern clouds contend in tears, + Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? + Now get thee hence: the king, thou know'st, is coming; + If thou be found by me, thou art but dead. + +SUFFOLK If I depart from thee, I cannot live; + And in thy sight to die, what were it else + But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? + Here could I breathe my soul into the air, + As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe + Dying with mother's dug between its lips: + Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad, + And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, + To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; + So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, + Or I should breathe it so into thy body, + And then it lived in sweet Elysium. + To die by thee were but to die in jest; + From thee to die were torture more than death: + O, let me stay, befall what may befall! + +QUEEN MARGARET Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive, + It is applied to a deathful wound. + To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee; + For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, + I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. + +SUFFOLK I go. + +QUEEN MARGARET And take my heart with thee. + +SUFFOLK A jewel, lock'd into the wofull'st cask + That ever did contain a thing of worth. + Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we + This way fall I to death. + +QUEEN MARGARET This way for me. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A bedchamber. + + + [Enter the KING, SALISBURY, WARWICK, to the + CARDINAL in bed] + +KING HENRY VI How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to + thy sovereign. + +CARDINAL If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure, + Enough to purchase such another island, + So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. + +KING HENRY VI Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, + Where death's approach is seen so terrible! + +WARWICK Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. + +CARDINAL Bring me unto my trial when you will. + Died he not in his bed? where should he die? + Can I make men live, whether they will or no? + O, torture me no more! I will confess. + Alive again? then show me where he is: + I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. + He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. + Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright, + Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. + Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary + Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. + +KING HENRY VI O thou eternal Mover of the heavens. + Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! + O, beat away the busy meddling fiend + That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul. + And from his bosom purge this black despair! + +WARWICK See, how the pangs of death do make him grin! + +SALISBURY Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably. + +KING HENRY VI Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! + Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, + Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. + He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him! + +WARWICK So bad a death argues a monstrous life. + +KING HENRY VI Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. + Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close; + And let us all to meditation. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The coast of Kent. + + + [Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a + Captain, a Master, a Master's-mate, WALTER WHITMORE, + and others; with them SUFFOLK, and others, prisoners] + +Captain The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful day + Is crept into the bosom of the sea; + And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades + That drag the tragic melancholy night; + Who, with their drowsy, slow and flagging wings, + Clip dead men's graves and from their misty jaws + Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. + Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize; + For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, + Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, + Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore. + Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; + And thou that art his mate, make boot of this; + The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share. + +First Gentleman What is my ransom, master? let me know. + +Master A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. + +Master's-Mate And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. + +Captain What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, + And bear the name and port of gentlemen? + Cut both the villains' throats; for die you shall: + The lives of those which we have lost in fight + Be counterpoised with such a petty sum! + +First Gentleman I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life. + +Second Gentleman And so will I and write home for it straight. + +WHITMORE I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, + And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die; + + [To SUFFOLK] + + And so should these, if I might have my will. + +Captain Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live. + +SUFFOLK Look on my George; I am a gentleman: + Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. + +WHITMORE And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. + How now! why start'st thou? what, doth + death affright? + +SUFFOLK Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. + A cunning man did calculate my birth + And told me that by water I should die: + Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; + Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded. + +WHITMORE Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not: + Never yet did base dishonour blur our name, + But with our sword we wiped away the blot; + Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, + Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced, + And I proclaim'd a coward through the world! + +SUFFOLK Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, + The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. + +WHITMORE The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags! + +SUFFOLK Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke: + Jove sometimes went disguised, and why not I? + +Captain But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. + +SUFFOLK Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's blood, + The honourable blood of Lancaster, + Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. + Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup? + Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule + And thought thee happy when I shook my head? + How often hast thou waited at my cup, + Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board. + When I have feasted with Queen Margaret? + Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n, + Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride; + How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood + And duly waited for my coming forth? + This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, + And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. + +WHITMORE Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? + +Captain First let my words stab him, as he hath me. + +SUFFOLK Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou. + +Captain Convey him hence and on our longboat's side + Strike off his head. + +SUFFOLK Thou darest not, for thy own. + +Captain Yes, Pole. + +SUFFOLK Pole! + +Captain Pool! Sir Pool! lord! + Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt + Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. + Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth + For swallowing the treasure of the realm: + Thy lips that kiss'd the queen shall sweep the ground; + And thou that smiledst at good Duke Humphrey's death, + Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, + Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again: + And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, + For daring to affy a mighty lord + Unto the daughter of a worthless king, + Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. + By devilish policy art thou grown great, + And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged + With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. + By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France, + The false revolting Normans thorough thee + Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy + Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts, + And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. + The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, + Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, + As hating thee, are rising up in arms: + And now the house of York, thrust from the crown + By shameful murder of a guiltless king + And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, + Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours + Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine, + Under the which is writ 'Invitis nubibus.' + The commons here in Kent are up in arms: + And, to conclude, reproach and beggary + Is crept into the palace of our king. + And all by thee. Away! convey him hence. + +SUFFOLK O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder + Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! + Small things make base men proud: this villain here, + Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more + Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate. + Drones suck not eagles' blood but rob beehives: + It is impossible that I should die + By such a lowly vassal as thyself. + Thy words move rage and not remorse in me: + I go of message from the queen to France; + I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel. + +Captain Walter,-- + +WHITMORE Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. + +SUFFOLK Gelidus timor occupat artus it is thee I fear. + +WHITMORE Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. + What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? + +First Gentleman My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. + +SUFFOLK Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, + Used to command, untaught to plead for favour. + Far be it we should honour such as these + With humble suit: no, rather let my head + Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any + Save to the God of heaven and to my king; + And sooner dance upon a bloody pole + Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. + True nobility is exempt from fear: + More can I bear than you dare execute. + +Captain Hale him away, and let him talk no more. + +SUFFOLK Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, + That this my death may never be forgot! + Great men oft die by vile bezonians: + A Roman sworder and banditto slave + Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand + Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders + Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. + + [Exeunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk] + +Captain And as for these whose ransom we have set, + It is our pleasure one of them depart; + Therefore come you with us and let him go. + + [Exeunt all but the First Gentleman] + + [Re-enter WHITMORE with SUFFOLK's body] + +WHITMORE There let his head and lifeless body lie, + Until the queen his mistress bury it. + + [Exit] + +First Gentleman O barbarous and bloody spectacle! + His body will I bear unto the king: + If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; + So will the queen, that living held him dear. + + [Exit with the body] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Blackheath. + + + [Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND] + +BEVIS Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; + they have been up these two days. + +HOLLAND They have the more need to sleep now, then. + +BEVIS I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress + the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it. + +HOLLAND So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it + was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up. + +BEVIS O miserable age! virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men. + +HOLLAND The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. + +BEVIS Nay, more, the king's council are no good workmen. + +HOLLAND True; and yet it is said, labour in thy vocation; + which is as much to say as, let the magistrates be + labouring men; and therefore should we be + magistrates. + +BEVIS Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a + brave mind than a hard hand. + +HOLLAND I see them! I see them! there's Best's son, the + tanner of Wingham,-- + +BEVIS He shall have the skin of our enemies, to make + dog's-leather of. + +HOLLAND And Dick the Butcher,-- + +BEVIS Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's + throat cut like a calf. + +HOLLAND And Smith the weaver,-- + +BEVIS Argo, their thread of life is spun. + +HOLLAND Come, come, let's fall in with them. + + [Drum. Enter CADE, DICK the Butcher, SMITH the + Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers] + +CADE We John Cade, so termed of our supposed father,-- + +DICK [Aside] Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings. + +CADE For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with + the spirit of putting down kings and princes, + --Command silence. + +DICK Silence! + +CADE My father was a Mortimer,-- + +DICK [Aside] He was an honest man, and a good + bricklayer. + +CADE My mother a Plantagenet,-- + +DICK [Aside] I knew her well; she was a midwife. + +CADE My wife descended of the Lacies,-- + +DICK [Aside] She was, indeed, a pedler's daughter, and + sold many laces. + +SMITH [Aside] But now of late, notable to travel with her + furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. + +CADE Therefore am I of an honourable house. + +DICK [Aside] Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable; + and there was he borne, under a hedge, for his + father had never a house but the cage. + +CADE Valiant I am. + +SMITH [Aside] A' must needs; for beggary is valiant. + +CADE I am able to endure much. + +DICK [Aside] No question of that; for I have seen him + whipped three market-days together. + +CADE I fear neither sword nor fire. + +SMITH [Aside] He need not fear the sword; for his coat is of proof. + +DICK [Aside] But methinks he should stand in fear of + fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. + +CADE Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows + reformation. There shall be in England seven + halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped + pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony + to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in + common; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to + grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,-- + +ALL God save your majesty! + +CADE I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; + all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will + apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree + like brothers and worship me their lord. + +DICK The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. + +CADE Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable + thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should + be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled + o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings: + but I say, 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal + once to a thing, and I was never mine own man + since. How now! who's there? + + [Enter some, bringing forward the Clerk of Chatham] + +SMITH The clerk of Chatham: he can write and read and + cast accompt. + +CADE O monstrous! + +SMITH We took him setting of boys' copies. + +CADE Here's a villain! + +SMITH Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't. + +CADE Nay, then, he is a conjurer. + +DICK Nay, he can make obligations, and write court-hand. + +CADE I am sorry for't: the man is a proper man, of mine + honour; unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. + Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee: what is thy name? + +Clerk Emmanuel. + +DICK They use to write it on the top of letters: 'twill + go hard with you. + +CADE Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name? or + hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest + plain-dealing man? + +CLERK Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up + that I can write my name. + +ALL He hath confessed: away with him! he's a villain + and a traitor. + +CADE Away with him, I say! hang him with his pen and + ink-horn about his neck. + + [Exit one with the Clerk] + + [Enter MICHAEL] + +MICHAEL Where's our general? + +CADE Here I am, thou particular fellow. + +MICHAEL Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his + brother are hard by, with the king's forces. + +CADE Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He + shall be encountered with a man as good as himself: + he is but a knight, is a'? + +MICHAEL No. + +CADE To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently. + + [Kneels] + + Rise up Sir John Mortimer. + + [Rises] + + Now have at him! + + [Enter SIR HUMPHREY and WILLIAM STAFFORD, with + drum and soldiers] + +SIR HUMPHREY Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, + Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down; + Home to your cottages, forsake this groom: + The king is merciful, if you revolt. + +WILLIAM STAFFORD But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, + If you go forward; therefore yield, or die. + +CADE As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not: + It is to you, good people, that I speak, + Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign; + For I am rightful heir unto the crown. + +SIR HUMPHREY Villain, thy father was a plasterer; + And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? + +CADE And Adam was a gardener. + +WILLIAM STAFFORD And what of that? + +CADE Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. + Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not? + +SIR HUMPHREY Ay, sir. + +CADE By her he had two children at one birth. + +WILLIAM STAFFORD That's false. + +CADE Ay, there's the question; but I say, 'tis true: + The elder of them, being put to nurse, + Was by a beggar-woman stolen away; + And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, + Became a bricklayer when he came to age: + His son am I; deny it, if you can. + +DICK Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king. + +SMITH Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and + the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; + therefore deny it not. + +SIR HUMPHREY And will you credit this base drudge's words, + That speaks he knows not what? + +ALL Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone. + +WILLIAM STAFFORD Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this. + +CADE [Aside] He lies, for I invented it myself. + Go to, sirrah, tell the king from me, that, for his + father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys + went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content + he shall reign; but I'll be protector over him. + +DICK And furthermore, well have the Lord Say's head for + selling the dukedom of Maine. + +CADE And good reason; for thereby is England mained, and + fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds + it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Say + hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an eunuch: + and more than that, he can speak French; and + therefore he is a traitor. + +SIR HUMPHREY O gross and miserable ignorance! + +CADE Nay, answer, if you can: the Frenchmen are our + enemies; go to, then, I ask but this: can he that + speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good + counsellor, or no? + +ALL No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. + +WILLIAM STAFFORD Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, + Assail them with the army of the king. + +SIR HUMPHREY Herald, away; and throughout every town + Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; + That those which fly before the battle ends + May, even in their wives' and children's sight, + Be hang'd up for example at their doors: + And you that be the king's friends, follow me. + + [Exeunt WILLIAM STAFFORD and SIR HUMPHREY, and soldiers] + +CADE And you that love the commons, follow me. + Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty. + We will not leave one lord, one gentleman: + Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon; + For they are thrifty honest men, and such + As would, but that they dare not, take our parts. + +DICK They are all in order and march toward us. + +CADE But then are we in order when we are most + out of order. Come, march forward. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Another part of Blackheath. + + + [Alarums to the fight, wherein SIR HUMPHREY and + WILLIAM STAFFORD are slain. Enter CADE and the rest] + +CADE Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? + +DICK Here, sir. + +CADE They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou + behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own + slaughter-house: therefore thus will I reward thee, + the Lent shall be as long again as it is; and thou + shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking + one. + +DICK I desire no more. + +CADE And, to speak truth, thou deservest no less. This + monument of the victory will I bear; + + [Putting on SIR HUMPHREY'S brigandine] + + and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels + till I do come to London, where we will have the + mayor's sword borne before us. + +DICK If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the + gaols and let out the prisoners. + +CADE Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march + towards London. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV London. The palace. + + + [Enter KING HENRY VI with a supplication, and the + QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head, BUCKINGHAM and Lord SAY] + +QUEEN MARGARET Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, + And makes it fearful and degenerate; + Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep. + But who can cease to weep and look on this? + Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast: + But where's the body that I should embrace? + +BUCKINGHAM What answer makes your grace to the rebels' + supplication? + +KING HENRY VI I'll send some holy bishop to entreat; + For God forbid so many simple souls + Should perish by the sword! And I myself, + Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, + Will parley with Jack Cade their general: + But stay, I'll read it over once again. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face + Ruled, like a wandering planet, over me, + And could it not enforce them to relent, + That were unworthy to behold the same? + +KING HENRY VI Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. + +SAY Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. + +KING HENRY VI How now, madam! + Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death? + I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, + Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me. + +QUEEN MARGARET No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +KING HENRY VI How now! what news? why comest thou in such haste? + +Messenger The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord! + Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, + Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house, + And calls your grace usurper openly + And vows to crown himself in Westminster. + His army is a ragged multitude + Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless: + Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death + Hath given them heart and courage to proceed: + All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, + They call false caterpillars, and intend their death. + +KING HENRY VI O graceless men! they know not what they do. + +BUCKINGHAM My gracious lord, return to Killingworth, + Until a power be raised to put them down. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive, + These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased! + +KING HENRY VI Lord Say, the traitors hate thee; + Therefore away with us to Killingworth. + +SAY So might your grace's person be in danger. + The sight of me is odious in their eyes; + And therefore in this city will I stay + And live alone as secret as I may. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Messenger Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge: + The citizens fly and forsake their houses: + The rascal people, thirsting after prey, + Join with the traitor, and they jointly swear + To spoil the city and your royal court. + +BUCKINGHAM Then linger not, my lord, away, take horse. + +KING HENRY VI Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succor us. + +QUEEN MARGARET My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased. + +KING HENRY VI Farewell, my lord: trust not the Kentish rebels. + +BUCKINGHAM Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd. + +SAY The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V London. The Tower. + + + [Enter SCALES upon the Tower, walking. + Then enter two or three Citizens below] + +SCALES How now! is Jack Cade slain? + +First Citizen No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have + won the bridge, killing all those that withstand + them: the lord mayor craves aid of your honour from + the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. + +SCALES Such aid as I can spare you shall command; + But I am troubled here with them myself; + The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. + But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, + And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe; + Fight for your king, your country and your lives; + And so, farewell, for I must hence again. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI London. Cannon Street. + + + [Enter CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on + London-stone] + +CADE Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting + upon London-stone, I charge and command that, of the + city's cost, the pissing-conduit run nothing but + claret wine this first year of our reign. And now + henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls + me other than Lord Mortimer. + + [Enter a Soldier, running] + +Soldier Jack Cade! Jack Cade! + +CADE Knock him down there. + + [They kill him] + +SMITH If this fellow be wise, he'll never call ye Jack + Cade more: I think he hath a very fair warning. + +DICK My lord, there's an army gathered together in + Smithfield. + +CADE Come, then, let's go fight with them; but first, go + and set London bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn + down the Tower too. Come, let's away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII London. Smithfield. + + + [Alarums. MATTHEW GOFFE is slain, and all the rest. + Then enter CADE, with his company. + +CADE So, sirs: now go some and pull down the Savoy; + others to the inns of court; down with them all. + +DICK I have a suit unto your lordship. + +CADE Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. + +DICK Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. + +HOLLAND [Aside] Mass, 'twill be sore law, then; for he was + thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole + yet. + +SMITH [Aside] Nay, John, it will be stinking law for his + breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. + +CADE I have thought upon it, it shall be so. Away, burn + all the records of the realm: my mouth shall be + the parliament of England. + +HOLLAND [Aside] Then we are like to have biting statutes, + unless his teeth be pulled out. + +CADE And henceforward all things shall be in common. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the Lord Say, + which sold the towns in France; he that made us pay + one and twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the + pound, the last subsidy. + + [Enter BEVIS, with Lord SAY] + +CADE Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah, + thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! now + art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction + regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for + giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the + dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these + presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I + am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such + filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously + corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a + grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers + had no other books but the score and the tally, thou + hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to + the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a + paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou + hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and + a verb, and such abominable words as no Christian + ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed + justices of peace, to call poor men before them + about matters they were not able to answer. + Moreover, thou hast put them in prison; and because + they could not read, thou hast hanged them; when, + indeed, only for that cause they have been most + worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not? + +SAY What of that? + +CADE Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a + cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose + and doublets. + +DICK And work in their shirt too; as myself, for example, + that am a butcher. + +SAY You men of Kent,-- + +DICK What say you of Kent? + +SAY Nothing but this; 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.' + +CADE Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin. + +SAY Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. + Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ, + Is term'd the civil'st place of this isle: + Sweet is the country, because full of riches; + The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; + Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. + I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy, + Yet, to recover them, would lose my life. + Justice with favour have I always done; + Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never. + When have I aught exacted at your hands, + But to maintain the king, the realm and you? + Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, + Because my book preferr'd me to the king, + And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, + Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, + Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, + You cannot but forbear to murder me: + This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings + For your behoof,-- + +CADE Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field? + +SAY Great men have reaching hands: oft have I struck + Those that I never saw and struck them dead. + +BEVIS O monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks? + +SAY These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. + +CADE Give him a box o' the ear and that will make 'em red again. + +SAY Long sitting to determine poor men's causes + Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. + +CADE Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the help of hatchet. + +DICK Why dost thou quiver, man? + +SAY The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. + +CADE Nay, he nods at us, as who should say, I'll be even + with you: I'll see if his head will stand steadier + on a pole, or no. Take him away, and behead him. + +SAY Tell me wherein have I offended most? + Have I affected wealth or honour? speak. + Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold? + Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? + Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death? + These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, + This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. + O, let me live! + +CADE [Aside] I feel remorse in myself with his words; + but I'll bridle it: he shall die, an it be but for + pleading so well for his life. Away with him! he + has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not o' + God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike + off his head presently; and then break into his + son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off + his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither. + +ALL It shall be done. + +SAY Ah, countrymen! if when you make your prayers, + God should be so obdurate as yourselves, + How would it fare with your departed souls? + And therefore yet relent, and save my life. + +CADE Away with him! and do as I command ye. + + [Exeunt some with Lord SAY] + + The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head + on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there + shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me + her maidenhead ere they have it: men shall hold of + me in capite; and we charge and command that their + wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell. + +DICK My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up + commodities upon our bills? + +CADE Marry, presently. + +ALL O, brave! + + [Re-enter one with the heads] + +CADE But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, + for they loved well when they were alive. Now part + them again, lest they consult about the giving up of + some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the + spoil of the city until night: for with these borne + before us, instead of maces, will we ride through + the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VIII Southwark. + + + [Alarum and retreat. Enter CADE and all his + rabblement] + +CADE Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill + and knock down! throw them into Thames! + + [Sound a parley] + + What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to + sound retreat or parley, when I command them kill? + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD, attended] + +BUCKINGHAM Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee: + Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king + Unto the commons whom thou hast misled; + And here pronounce free pardon to them all + That will forsake thee and go home in peace. + +CLIFFORD What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent, + And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you; + Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? + Who loves the king and will embrace his pardon, + Fling up his cap, and say 'God save his majesty!' + Who hateth him and honours not his father, + Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, + Shake he his weapon at us and pass by. + +ALL God save the king! God save the king! + +CADE What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? And + you, base peasants, do ye believe him? will you + needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? + Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, + that you should leave me at the White Hart in + Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out + these arms till you had recovered your ancient + freedom: but you are all recreants and dastards, + and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let + them break your backs with burthens, take your + houses over your heads, ravish your wives and + daughters before your faces: for me, I will make + shift for one; and so, God's curse light upon you + all! + +ALL We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade! + +CLIFFORD Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, + That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him? + Will he conduct you through the heart of France, + And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? + Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; + Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, + Unless by robbing of your friends and us. + Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, + The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, + Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? + Methinks already in this civil broil + I see them lording it in London streets, + Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet. + Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry + Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. + To France, to France, and get what you have lost; + Spare England, for it is your native coast; + Henry hath money, you are strong and manly; + God on our side, doubt not of victory. + +ALL A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow the king and Clifford. + +CADE Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this + multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them + to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me + desolate. I see them lay their heads together to + surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is + no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, have + through the very middest of you? and heavens and + honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me. + but only my followers' base and ignominious + treasons, makes me betake me to my heels. + + [Exit] + +BUCKINGHAM What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him; + And he that brings his head unto the king + Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. + + [Exeunt some of them] + + Follow me, soldiers: we'll devise a mean + To reconcile you all unto the king. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IX Kenilworth Castle. + + + [Sound Trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN + MARGARET, and SOMERSET, on the terrace] + +KING HENRY VI Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne, + And could command no more content than I? + No sooner was I crept out of my cradle + But I was made a king, at nine months old. + Was never subject long'd to be a king + As I do long and wish to be a subject. + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD] + +BUCKINGHAM Health and glad tidings to your majesty! + +KING HENRY VI Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised? + Or is he but retired to make him strong? + + [Enter below, multitudes, with halters about + their necks] + +CLIFFORD He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield; + And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, + Expect your highness' doom of life or death. + +KING HENRY VI Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates, + To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! + Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives, + And show'd how well you love your prince and country: + Continue still in this so good a mind, + And Henry, though he be infortunate, + Assure yourselves, will never be unkind: + And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, + I do dismiss you to your several countries. + +ALL God save the king! God save the king! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Please it your grace to be advertised + The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland, + And with a puissant and a mighty power + Of gallowglasses and stout kerns + Is marching hitherward in proud array, + And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, + His arms are only to remove from thee + The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms traitor. + +KING HENRY VI Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd. + Like to a ship that, having 'scaped a tempest, + Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate: + But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed; + And now is York in arms to second him. + I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, + And ask him what's the reason of these arms. + Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower; + And, Somerset, we'll commit thee thither, + Until his army be dismiss'd from him. + +SOMERSET My lord, + I'll yield myself to prison willingly, + Or unto death, to do my country good. + +KING HENRY VI In any case, be not too rough in terms; + For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language. + +BUCKINGHAM I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal + As all things shall redound unto your good. + +KING HENRY VI Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better; + For yet may England curse my wretched reign. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE X Kent. IDEN's garden. + + + [Enter CADE] + +CADE Fie on ambition! fie on myself, that have a sword, + and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I + hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for + all the country is laid for me; but now am I so + hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a + thousand years I could stay no longer. Wherefore, + on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to + see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another + while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach + this hot weather. And I think this word 'sallet' + was born to do me good: for many a time, but for a + sallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown + bill; and many a time, when I have been dry and + bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a + quart pot to drink in; and now the word 'sallet' + must serve me to feed on. + + [Enter IDEN] + +IDEN Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, + And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? + This small inheritance my father left me + Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. + I seek not to wax great by others' waning, + Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy: + Sufficeth that I have maintains my state + And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. + +CADE Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a + stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. + Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand + crowns of the king carrying my head to him: but + I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow + my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. + +IDEN Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, + I know thee not; why, then, should I betray thee? + Is't not enough to break into my garden, + And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, + Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, + But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms? + +CADE Brave thee! ay, by the best blood that ever was + broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I + have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and + thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead + as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more. + +IDEN Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands, + That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, + Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. + Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine, + See if thou canst outface me with thy looks: + Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; + Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, + Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; + My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; + And if mine arm be heaved in the air, + Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. + As for words, whose greatness answers words, + Let this my sword report what speech forbears. + +CADE By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I + heard! Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out + the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou + sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou + mayst be turned to hobnails. + + [Here they fight. CADE falls] + + O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain me: + let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me + but the ten meals I have lost, and I'll defy them + all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a + burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, + because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. + +IDEN Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? + Sword, I will hollow thee for this thy deed, + And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead: + Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point; + But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat, + To emblaze the honour that thy master got. + +CADE Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell + Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort + all the world to be cowards; for I, that never + feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. + + [Dies] + +IDEN How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge. + Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee; + And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, + So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. + Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels + Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave, + And there cut off thy most ungracious head; + Which I will bear in triumph to the king, + Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. + + [Exit] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Fields between Dartford and Blackheath. + + + [Enter YORK, and his army of Irish, with drum + and colours] + +YORK From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, + And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head: + Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, + To entertain great England's lawful king. + Ah! sancta majestas, who would not buy thee dear? + Let them obey that know not how to rule; + This hand was made to handle naught but gold. + I cannot give due action to my words, + Except a sword or sceptre balance it: + A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul, + On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France. + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM] + + Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? + The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble. + +BUCKINGHAM York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. + +YORK Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. + Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure? + +BUCKINGHAM A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, + To know the reason of these arms in peace; + Or why thou, being a subject as I am, + Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, + Should raise so great a power without his leave, + Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. + +YORK [Aside] Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great: + O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, + I am so angry at these abject terms; + And now, like Ajax Telamonius, + On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. + I am far better born than is the king, + More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts: + But I must make fair weather yet a while, + Till Henry be more weak and I more strong,-- + Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me, + That I have given no answer all this while; + My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. + The cause why I have brought this army hither + Is to remove proud Somerset from the king, + Seditious to his grace and to the state. + +BUCKINGHAM That is too much presumption on thy part: + But if thy arms be to no other end, + The king hath yielded unto thy demand: + The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. + +YORK Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? + +BUCKINGHAM Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. + +YORK Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. + Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; + Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field, + You shall have pay and every thing you wish. + And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, + Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, + As pledges of my fealty and love; + I'll send them all as willing as I live: + Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have, + Is his to use, so Somerset may die. + +BUCKINGHAM York, I commend this kind submission: + We twain will go into his highness' tent. + + [Enter KING HENRY VI and Attendants] + +KING HENRY VI Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, + That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? + +YORK In all submission and humility + York doth present himself unto your highness. + +KING HENRY VI Then what intends these forces thou dost bring? + +YORK To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, + And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, + Who since I heard to be discomfited. + + [Enter IDEN, with CADE'S head] + +IDEN If one so rude and of so mean condition + May pass into the presence of a king, + Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head, + The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. + +KING HENRY VI The head of Cade! Great God, how just art Thou! + O, let me view his visage, being dead, + That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. + Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him? + +IDEN I was, an't like your majesty. + +KING HENRY VI How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree? + +IDEN Alexander Iden, that's my name; + A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. + +BUCKINGHAM So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss + He were created knight for his good service. + +KING HENRY VI Iden, kneel down. + + [He kneels] + + Rise up a knight. + We give thee for reward a thousand marks, + And will that thou henceforth attend on us. + +IDEN May Iden live to merit such a bounty. + And never live but true unto his liege! + + [Rises] + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET and SOMERSET] + +KING HENRY VI See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with the queen: + Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. + +QUEEN MARGARET For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, + But boldly stand and front him to his face. + +YORK How now! is Somerset at liberty? + Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts, + And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. + Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? + False king! why hast thou broken faith with me, + Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? + King did I call thee? no, thou art not king, + Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, + Which darest not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. + That head of thine doth not become a crown; + Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, + And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. + That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, + Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, + Is able with the change to kill and cure. + Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up + And with the same to act controlling laws. + Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more + O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. + +SOMERSET O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, + Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown; + Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. + +YORK Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these, + If they can brook I bow a knee to man. + Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail; + + [Exit Attendant] + + I know, ere they will have me go to ward, + They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. + +QUEEN MARGARET Call hither Clifford! bid him come amain, + To say if that the bastard boys of York + Shall be the surety for their traitor father. + + [Exit BUCKINGHAM] + +YORK O blood-besotted Neapolitan, + Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! + The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, + Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those + That for my surety will refuse the boys! + + [Enter EDWARD and RICHARD] + + See where they come: I'll warrant they'll + make it good. + + [Enter CLIFFORD and YOUNG CLIFFORD] + +QUEEN MARGARET And here comes Clifford to deny their bail. + +CLIFFORD Health and all happiness to my lord the king! + + [Kneels] + +YORK I thank thee, Clifford: say, what news with thee? + Nay, do not fright us with an angry look; + We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; + For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. + +CLIFFORD This is my king, York, I do not mistake; + But thou mistakest me much to think I do: + To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad? + +KING HENRY VI Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humour + Makes him oppose himself against his king. + +CLIFFORD He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, + And chop away that factious pate of his. + +QUEEN MARGARET He is arrested, but will not obey; + His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. + +YORK Will you not, sons? + +EDWARD Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. + +RICHARD And if words will not, then our weapons shall. + +CLIFFORD Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! + +YORK Look in a glass, and call thy image so: + I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. + Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, + That with the very shaking of their chains + They may astonish these fell-lurking curs: + Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. + + [Enter the WARWICK and SALISBURY] + +CLIFFORD Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death. + And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, + If thou darest bring them to the baiting place. + +RICHARD Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur + Run back and bite, because he was withheld; + Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw, + Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs and cried: + And such a piece of service will you do, + If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick. + +CLIFFORD Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, + As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! + +YORK Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. + +CLIFFORD Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. + +KING HENRY VI Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? + Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, + Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son! + What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian, + And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? + O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? + If it be banish'd from the frosty head, + Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? + Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, + And shame thine honourable age with blood? + Why art thou old, and want'st experience? + Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? + For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me + That bows unto the grave with mickle age. + +SALISBURY My lord, I have consider'd with myself + The title of this most renowned duke; + And in my conscience do repute his grace + The rightful heir to England's royal seat. + +KING HENRY VI Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? + +SALISBURY I have. + +KING HENRY VI Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? + +SALISBURY It is great sin to swear unto a sin, + But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. + Who can be bound by any solemn vow + To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, + To force a spotless virgin's chastity, + To reave the orphan of his patrimony, + To wring the widow from her custom'd right, + And have no other reason for this wrong + But that he was bound by a solemn oath? + +QUEEN MARGARET A subtle traitor needs no sophister. + +KING HENRY VI Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. + +YORK Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, + I am resolved for death or dignity. + +CLIFFORD The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. + +WARWICK You were best to go to bed and dream again, + To keep thee from the tempest of the field. + +CLIFFORD I am resolved to bear a greater storm + Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; + And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, + Might I but know thee by thy household badge. + +WARWICK Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, + The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, + This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, + As on a mountain top the cedar shows + That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, + Even to affright thee with the view thereof. + +CLIFFORD And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear + And tread it under foot with all contempt, + Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear. + +YOUNG CLIFFORD And so to arms, victorious father, + To quell the rebels and their complices. + +RICHARD Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in spite, + For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. + +YOUNG CLIFFORD Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell. + +RICHARD If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Saint Alban's. + + + [Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK] + +WARWICK Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls: + And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, + Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum + And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, + Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me: + Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, + Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. + + [Enter YORK] + + How now, my noble lord? what, all afoot? + +YORK The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed, + But match to match I have encounter'd him + And made a prey for carrion kites and crows + Even of the bonny beast he loved so well. + + [Enter CLIFFORD] + +WARWICK Of one or both of us the time is come. + +YORK Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase, + For I myself must hunt this deer to death. + +WARWICK Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st. + As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, + It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. + + [Exit] + +CLIFFORD What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause? + +YORK With thy brave bearing should I be in love, + But that thou art so fast mine enemy. + +CLIFFORD Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, + But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason. + +YORK So let it help me now against thy sword + As I in justice and true right express it. + +CLIFFORD My soul and body on the action both! + +YORK A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly. + + [They fight, and CLIFFORD falls] + +CLIFFORD La fin couronne les oeuvres. + + [Dies] + +YORK Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. + Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will! + + [Exit] + + [Enter YOUNG CLIFFORD] + +YOUNG CLIFFORD Shame and confusion! all is on the rout; + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, + Whom angry heavens do make their minister + Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part + Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly. + He that is truly dedicate to war + Hath no self-love, nor he that loves himself + Hath not essentially but by circumstance + The name of valour. + + [Seeing his dead father] + + O, let the vile world end, + And the premised flames of the last day + Knit earth and heaven together! + Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, + Particularities and petty sounds + To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, + To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve + The silver livery of advised age, + And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus + To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight + My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine, + It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; + No more will I their babes: tears virginal + Shall be to me even as the dew to fire, + And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims + Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. + Henceforth I will not have to do with pity: + Meet I an infant of the house of York, + Into as many gobbets will I cut it + As wild Medea young Absyrtus did: + In cruelty will I seek out my fame. + Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house: + As did AEneas old Anchises bear, + So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; + But then AEneas bare a living load, + Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. + + [Exit, bearing off his father] + + [Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET to fight. SOMERSET + is killed] + +RICHARD So, lie thou there; + For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, + The Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset + Hath made the wizard famous in his death. + Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still: + Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. + + [Exit] + + [Fight: excursions. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN + MARGARET, and others] + +QUEEN MARGARET Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away! + +KING HENRY VI Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay. + +QUEEN MARGARET What are you made of? you'll nor fight nor fly: + Now is it manhood, wisdom and defence, + To give the enemy way, and to secure us + By what we can, which can no more but fly. + + [Alarum afar off] + + If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom + Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape, + As well we may, if not through your neglect, + We shall to London get, where you are loved + And where this breach now in our fortunes made + May readily be stopp'd. + + [Re-enter YOUNG CLIFFORD] + +YOUNG CLIFFORD But that my heart's on future mischief set, + I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly: + But fly you must; uncurable discomfit + Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. + Away, for your relief! and we will live + To see their day and them our fortune give: + Away, my lord, away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 2 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Fields near St. Alban's. + + + [Alarum. Retreat. Enter YORK, RICHARD, WARWICK, + and Soldiers, with drum and colours] + +YORK Of Salisbury, who can report of him, + That winter lion, who in rage forgets + Aged contusions and all brush of time, + And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, + Repairs him with occasion? This happy day + Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, + If Salisbury be lost. + +RICHARD My noble father, + Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, + Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off, + Persuaded him from any further act: + But still, where danger was, still there I met him; + And like rich hangings in a homely house, + So was his will in his old feeble body. + But, noble as he is, look where he comes. + + [Enter SALISBURY] + +SALISBURY Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day; + By the mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard: + God knows how long it is I have to live; + And it hath pleased him that three times to-day + You have defended me from imminent death. + Well, lords, we have not got that which we have: + 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, + Being opposites of such repairing nature. + +YORK I know our safety is to follow them; + For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, + To call a present court of parliament. + Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. + What says Lord Warwick? shall we after them? + +WARWICK After them! nay, before them, if we can. + Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day: + Saint Alban's battle won by famous York + Shall be eternized in all age to come. + Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all: + And more such days as these to us befall! + + [Exeunt] + 3 KING HENRY VI + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING HENRY the Sixth. + +EDWARD, +PRINCE OF WALES his son. (PRINCE EDWARD:) + +KING LEWIS XI King of France. (KING LEWIS XI:) + +DUKE OF SOMERSET (SOMERSET:) + +DUKE OF EXETER (EXETER:) + +EARL OF OXFORD (OXFORD:) + +EARL OF +NORTHUMBERLAND (NORTHUMBERLAND:) + +EARL OF +WESTMORELAND (WESTMORELAND:) + +LORD CLIFFORD (CLIFFORD:) + +RICHARD +PLANTAGENET Duke of York. (YORK:) + + +EDWARD (EDWARD:) Earl of March, | + afterwards King Edward IV. | + (KING EDWARD IV:) | + | +EDMUND Earl of Rutland, (RUTLAND:) | + | his sons. +GEORGE (GEORGE:) afterwards Duke of | + Clarence (CLARENCE:) | + | +RICHARD (RICHARD:) afterwards Duke of | + Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:) | + + +DUKE OF NORFOLK (NORFOLK:) + +MARQUESS OF +MONTAGUE (MONTAGUE:) + +EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:) + +EARL OF PEMBROKE (PEMBROKE:) + +LORD HASTINGS (HASTINGS:) + +LORD STAFFORD (STAFFORD:) + + +SIR JOHN MORTIMER (JOHN MORTIMER:) | + | uncles to the Duke of York. +SIR HUGH MORTIMER (HUGH MORTIMER:) | + + +HENRY Earl of Richmond, a youth (HENRY OF RICHMOND:). + +LORD RIVERS brother to Lady Grey. (RIVERS:) + +SIR +WILLIAM STANLEY (STANLEY:) + +SIR +JOHN MONTGOMERY (MONTGOMERY:) + +SIR +JOHN SOMERVILLE (SOMERVILLE:) + + Tutor to Rutland. (Tutor:) + + Mayor of York. (Mayor:) + + Lieutenant of the Tower. (Lieutenant:) + + A Nobleman. (Nobleman:) + + Two Keepers. + (First Keeper:) + (Second Keeper:) + + A Huntsman. (Huntsman:) + + A Son that has killed his father. (Son:) + + A Father that has killed his son. (Father:) + +QUEEN MARGARET: + +LADY GREY afterwards Queen to Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:) + +BONA sister to the French Queen. + + Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, &c. + (Soldier:) + (Post:) + (Messenger:) + (First Messenger:) + (Second Messenger:) + (First Watchman:) + (Second Watchman:) + (Third Watchman:) + + +SCENE England and France. + + + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. The Parliament-house. + + + [Alarum. Enter YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, + MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers] + +WARWICK I wonder how the king escaped our hands. + +YORK While we pursued the horsemen of the north, + He slily stole away and left his men: + Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, + Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, + Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself, + Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast, + Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in + Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. + +EDWARD Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, + Is either slain or wounded dangerously; + I cleft his beaver with a downright blow: + That this is true, father, behold his blood. + +MONTAGUE And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood, + Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. + +RICHARD Speak thou for me and tell them what I did. + + [Throwing down SOMERSET's head] + +YORK Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. + But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? + +NORFOLK Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! + +RICHARD Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head. + +WARWICK And so do I. Victorious Prince of York, + Before I see thee seated in that throne + Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, + I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. + This is the palace of the fearful king, + And this the regal seat: possess it, York; + For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs' + +YORK Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will; + For hither we have broken in by force. + +NORFOLK We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die. + +YORK Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords; + And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. + + [They go up] + +WARWICK And when the king comes, offer no violence, + Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. + +YORK The queen this day here holds her parliament, + But little thinks we shall be of her council: + By words or blows here let us win our right. + +RICHARD Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house. + +WARWICK The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, + Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, + And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice + Hath made us by-words to our enemies. + +YORK Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; + I mean to take possession of my right. + +WARWICK Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, + The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, + Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. + I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: + Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLIFFORD, + NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and the rest] + +KING HENRY VI My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, + Even in the chair of state: belike he means, + Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer, + To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. + Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father. + And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge + On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends. + +NORTHUMBERLAND If I be not, heavens be revenged on me! + +CLIFFORD The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. + +WESTMORELAND What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down: + My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it. + +KING HENRY VI Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland. + +CLIFFORD Patience is for poltroons, such as he: + He durst not sit there, had your father lived. + My gracious lord, here in the parliament + Let us assail the family of York. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be it so. + +KING HENRY VI Ah, know you not the city favours them, + And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? + +EXETER But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. + +KING HENRY VI Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, + To make a shambles of the parliament-house! + Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats + Shall be the war that Henry means to use. + Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne, + and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; + I am thy sovereign. + +YORK I am thine. + +EXETER For shame, come down: he made thee Duke of York. + +YORK 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. + +EXETER Thy father was a traitor to the crown. + +WARWICK Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown + In following this usurping Henry. + +CLIFFORD Whom should he follow but his natural king? + +WARWICK True, Clifford; and that's Richard Duke of York. + +KING HENRY VI And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? + +YORK It must and shall be so: content thyself. + +WARWICK Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be king. + +WESTMORELAND He is both king and Duke of Lancaster; + And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. + +WARWICK And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget + That we are those which chased you from the field + And slew your fathers, and with colours spread + March'd through the city to the palace gates. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; + And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. + +WESTMORELAND Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons, + Thy kinsman and thy friends, I'll have more lives + Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. + +CLIFFORD Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, + I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger + As shall revenge his death before I stir. + +WARWICK Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless threats! + +YORK Will you we show our title to the crown? + If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. + +KING HENRY VI What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? + Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; + Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March: + I am the son of Henry the Fifth, + Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop + And seized upon their towns and provinces. + +WARWICK Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. + +KING HENRY VI The lord protector lost it, and not I: + When I was crown'd I was but nine months old. + +RICHARD You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. + Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. + +EDWARD Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. + +MONTAGUE Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms, + Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus. + +RICHARD Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly. + +YORK Sons, peace! + +KING HENRY VI Peace, thou! and give King Henry leave to speak. + +WARWICK Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords; + And be you silent and attentive too, + For he that interrupts him shall not live. + +KING HENRY VI Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, + Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? + No: first shall war unpeople this my realm; + Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, + And now in England to our heart's great sorrow, + Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? + My title's good, and better far than his. + +WARWICK Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. + +KING HENRY VI Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. + +YORK 'Twas by rebellion against his king. + +KING HENRY VI [Aside] I know not what to say; my title's weak.-- + Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? + +YORK What then? + +KING HENRY VI An if he may, then am I lawful king; + For Richard, in the view of many lords, + Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth, + Whose heir my father was, and I am his. + +YORK He rose against him, being his sovereign, + And made him to resign his crown perforce. + +WARWICK Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, + Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown? + +EXETER No; for he could not so resign his crown + But that the next heir should succeed and reign. + +KING HENRY VI Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter? + +EXETER His is the right, and therefore pardon me. + +YORK Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? + +EXETER My conscience tells me he is lawful king. + +KING HENRY VI [Aside] All will revolt from me, and turn to him. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, + Think not that Henry shall be so deposed. + +WARWICK Deposed he shall be, in despite of all. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Thou art deceived: 'tis not thy southern power, + Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, + Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, + Can set the duke up in despite of me. + +CLIFFORD King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, + Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence: + May that ground gape and swallow me alive, + Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! + +KING HENRY VI O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! + +YORK Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. + What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? + +WARWICK Do right unto this princely Duke of York, + Or I will fill the house with armed men, + And over the chair of state, where now he sits, + Write up his title with usurping blood. + + [He stamps with his foot and the soldiers show + themselves] + +KING HENRY VI My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word: + Let me for this my life-time reign as king. + +YORK Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, + And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest. + +KING HENRY VI I am content: Richard Plantagenet, + Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. + +CLIFFORD What wrong is this unto the prince your son! + +WARWICK What good is this to England and himself! + +WESTMORELAND Base, fearful and despairing Henry! + +CLIFFORD How hast thou injured both thyself and us! + +WESTMORELAND I cannot stay to hear these articles. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Nor I. + +CLIFFORD Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news. + +WESTMORELAND Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, + In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Be thou a prey unto the house of York, + And die in bands for this unmanly deed! + +CLIFFORD In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, + Or live in peace abandon'd and despised! + + [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and WESTMORELAND] + +WARWICK Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. + +EXETER They seek revenge and therefore will not yield. + +KING HENRY VI Ah, Exeter! + +WARWICK Why should you sigh, my lord? + +KING HENRY VI Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, + Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. + But be it as it may: I here entail + The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; + Conditionally, that here thou take an oath + To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, + To honour me as thy king and sovereign, + And neither by treason nor hostility + To seek to put me down and reign thyself. + +YORK This oath I willingly take and will perform. + +WARWICK Long live King Henry! Plantagenet embrace him. + +KING HENRY VI And long live thou and these thy forward sons! + +YORK Now York and Lancaster are reconciled. + +EXETER Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes! + + [Sennet. Here they come down] + +YORK Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle. + +WARWICK And I'll keep London with my soldiers. + +NORFOLK And I to Norfolk with my followers. + +MONTAGUE And I unto the sea from whence I came. + + [Exeunt YORK, EDWARD, EDMUND, GEORGE, RICHARD, + WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, their Soldiers, and + Attendants] + +KING HENRY VI And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court. + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD] + +EXETER Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger: + I'll steal away. + +KING HENRY VI Exeter, so will I. + +QUEEN MARGARET Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee. + +KING HENRY VI Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. + +QUEEN MARGARET Who can be patient in such extremes? + Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid + And never seen thee, never borne thee son, + Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father + Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? + Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, + Or felt that pain which I did for him once, + Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood, + Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, + Rather than have that savage duke thine heir + And disinherited thine only son. + +PRINCE EDWARD Father, you cannot disinherit me: + If you be king, why should not I succeed? + +KING HENRY VI Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son: + The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. + +QUEEN MARGARET Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced? + I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! + Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me; + And given unto the house of York such head + As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. + To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, + What is it, but to make thy sepulchre + And creep into it far before thy time? + Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; + Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; + The duke is made protector of the realm; + And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds + The trembling lamb environed with wolves. + Had I been there, which am a silly woman, + The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes + Before I would have granted to that act. + But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: + And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself + Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, + Until that act of parliament be repeal'd + Whereby my son is disinherited. + The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours + Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; + And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace + And utter ruin of the house of York. + Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; + Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. + +KING HENRY VI Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. + +QUEEN MARGARET Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone. + +KING HENRY VI Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. + +PRINCE EDWARD When I return with victory from the field + I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her. + +QUEEN MARGARET Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. + + [Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD] + +KING HENRY VI Poor queen! how love to me and to her son + Hath made her break out into terms of rage! + Revenged may she be on that hateful duke, + Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, + Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle + Tire on the flesh of me and of my son! + The loss of those three lords torments my heart: + I'll write unto them and entreat them fair. + Come, cousin you shall be the messenger. + +EXETER And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Sandal Castle. + + + [Enter RICHARD, EDWARD, and MONTAGUE] + +RICHARD Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. + +EDWARD No, I can better play the orator. + +MONTAGUE But I have reasons strong and forcible. + + [Enter YORK] + +YORK Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife? + What is your quarrel? how began it first? + +EDWARD No quarrel, but a slight contention. + +YORK About what? + +RICHARD About that which concerns your grace and us; + The crown of England, father, which is yours. + +YORK Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead. + +RICHARD Your right depends not on his life or death. + +EDWARD Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: + By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, + It will outrun you, father, in the end. + +YORK I took an oath that he should quietly reign. + +EDWARD But for a kingdom any oath may be broken: + I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. + +RICHARD No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn. + +YORK I shall be, if I claim by open war. + +RICHARD I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. + +YORK Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. + +RICHARD An oath is of no moment, being not took + Before a true and lawful magistrate, + That hath authority over him that swears: + Henry had none, but did usurp the place; + Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, + Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. + Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think + How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; + Within whose circuit is Elysium + And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. + Why do we finger thus? I cannot rest + Until the white rose that I wear be dyed + Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. + +YORK Richard, enough; I will be king, or die. + Brother, thou shalt to London presently, + And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. + Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk, + And tell him privily of our intent. + You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, + With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: + In them I trust; for they are soldiers, + Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. + While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, + But that I seek occasion how to rise, + And yet the king not privy to my drift, + Nor any of the house of Lancaster? + + [Enter a Messenger] + + But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post? + +Messenger The queen with all the northern earls and lords + Intend here to besiege you in your castle: + She is hard by with twenty thousand men; + And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. + +YORK Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them? + Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; + My brother Montague shall post to London: + Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, + Whom we have left protectors of the king, + With powerful policy strengthen themselves, + And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths. + +MONTAGUE Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: + And thus most humbly I do take my leave. + + [Exit] + + [Enter JOHN MORTIMER and HUGH MORTIMER] + + Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, + You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; + The army of the queen mean to besiege us. + +JOHN MORTIMER She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field. + +YORK What, with five thousand men? + +RICHARD Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need: + A woman's general; what should we fear? + + [A march afar off] + +EDWARD I hear their drums: let's set our men in order, + And issue forth and bid them battle straight. + +YORK Five men to twenty! though the odds be great, + I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. + Many a battle have I won in France, + When as the enemy hath been ten to one: + Why should I not now have the like success? + + [Alarum. Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield. + + + [Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor] + +RUTLAND Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? + Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes! + + [Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers] + +CLIFFORD Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. + As for the brat of this accursed duke, + Whose father slew my father, he shall die. + +Tutor And I, my lord, will bear him company. + +CLIFFORD Soldiers, away with him! + +Tutor Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, + Lest thou be hated both of God and man! + + [Exit, dragged off by Soldiers] + +CLIFFORD How now! is he dead already? or is it fear + That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. + +RUTLAND So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch + That trembles under his devouring paws; + And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, + And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder. + Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, + And not with such a cruel threatening look. + Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. + I am too mean a subject for thy wrath: + Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. + +CLIFFORD In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood + Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. + +RUTLAND Then let my father's blood open it again: + He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. + +CLIFFORD Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine + Were not revenge sufficient for me; + No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves + And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, + It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. + The sight of any of the house of York + Is as a fury to torment my soul; + And till I root out their accursed line + And leave not one alive, I live in hell. + Therefore-- + + [Lifting his hand] + +RUTLAND O, let me pray before I take my death! + To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! + +CLIFFORD Such pity as my rapier's point affords. + +RUTLAND I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? + +CLIFFORD Thy father hath. + +RUTLAND But 'twas ere I was born. + Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, + Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, + He be as miserably slain as I. + Ah, let me live in prison all my days; + And when I give occasion of offence, + Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. + +CLIFFORD No cause! + Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. + + [Stabs him] + +RUTLAND Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! + + [Dies] + +CLIFFORD Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! + And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade + Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, + Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. + + [Exit] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum. Enter YORK] + +YORK The army of the queen hath got the field: + My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; + And all my followers to the eager foe + Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind + Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. + My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them: + But this I know, they have demean'd themselves + Like men born to renown by life or death. + Three times did Richard make a lane to me. + And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!' + And full as oft came Edward to my side, + With purple falchion, painted to the hilt + In blood of those that had encounter'd him: + And when the hardiest warriors did retire, + Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!' + And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! + A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' + With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! + We bodged again; as I have seen a swan + With bootless labour swim against the tide + And spend her strength with over-matching waves. + + [A short alarum within] + + Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; + And I am faint and cannot fly their fury: + And were I strong, I would not shun their fury: + The sands are number'd that make up my life; + Here must I stay, and here my life must end. + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, + PRINCE EDWARD, and Soldiers] + + Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, + I dare your quenchless fury to more rage: + I am your butt, and I abide your shot. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. + +CLIFFORD Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, + With downright payment, show'd unto my father. + Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, + And made an evening at the noontide prick. + +YORK My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth + A bird that will revenge upon you all: + And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, + Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. + Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? + +CLIFFORD So cowards fight when they can fly no further; + So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; + So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, + Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. + +YORK O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, + And in thy thought o'er-run my former time; + And, if though canst for blushing, view this face, + And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice + Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this! + +CLIFFORD I will not bandy with thee word for word, + But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. + +QUEEN MARGARET Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes + I would prolong awhile the traitor's life. + Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much + To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: + What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, + For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + It is war's prize to take all vantages; + And ten to one is no impeach of valour. + + [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles] + +CLIFFORD Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. + +NORTHUMBERLAND So doth the cony struggle in the net. + +YORK So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; + So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd. + +NORTHUMBERLAND What would your grace have done unto him now? + +QUEEN MARGARET Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, + Come, make him stand upon this molehill here, + That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, + Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. + What! was it you that would be England's king? + Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, + And made a preachment of your high descent? + Where are your mess of sons to back you now? + The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? + And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, + Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice + Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? + Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? + Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood + That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, + Made issue from the bosom of the boy; + And if thine eyes can water for his death, + I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. + Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, + I should lament thy miserable state. + I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. + What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails + That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? + Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; + And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. + Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. + Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: + York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. + A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him: + Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. + + [Putting a paper crown on his head] + + Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! + Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, + And this is he was his adopted heir. + But how is it that great Plantagenet + Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? + As I bethink me, you should not be king + Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. + And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, + And rob his temples of the diadem, + Now in his life, against your holy oath? + O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable! + Off with the crown, and with the crown his head; + And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. + +CLIFFORD That is my office, for my father's sake. + +QUEEN MARGARET Nay, stay; lets hear the orisons he makes. + +YORK She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, + Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! + How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex + To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, + Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! + But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging, + Made impudent with use of evil deeds, + I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. + To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived, + Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. + Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, + Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, + Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. + Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? + It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, + Unless the adage must be verified, + That beggars mounted run their horse to death. + 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; + But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: + 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; + The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: + 'Tis government that makes them seem divine; + The want thereof makes thee abominable: + Thou art as opposite to every good + As the Antipodes are unto us, + Or as the south to the septentrion. + O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide! + How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, + To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, + And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? + Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible; + Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. + Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: + Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: + For raging wind blows up incessant showers, + And when the rage allays, the rain begins. + These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: + And every drop cries vengeance for his death, + 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false + Frenchwoman. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so + That hardly can I cheque my eyes from tears. + +YORK That face of his the hungry cannibals + Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: + But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, + O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. + See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: + This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy, + And I with tears do wash the blood away. + Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: + And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, + Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; + Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, + And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' + There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; + And in thy need such comfort come to thee + As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! + Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world: + My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! + +NORTHUMBERLAND Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, + I should not for my life but weep with him. + To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. + +QUEEN MARGARET What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland? + Think but upon the wrong he did us all, + And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. + +CLIFFORD Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. + + [Stabbing him] + + +QUEEN MARGARET And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. + + [Stabbing him] + +YORK Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God! + My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee. + + [Dies] + +QUEEN MARGARET Off with his head, and set it on York gates; + So York may overlook the town of York. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire. + + + [A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their power] + +EDWARD I wonder how our princely father 'scaped, + Or whether he be 'scaped away or no + From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit: + Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; + Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; + Or had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard + The happy tidings of his good escape. + How fares my brother? why is he so sad? + +RICHARD I cannot joy, until I be resolved + Where our right valiant father is become. + I saw him in the battle range about; + And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. + Methought he bore him in the thickest troop + As doth a lion in a herd of neat; + Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, + Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, + The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. + So fared our father with his enemies; + So fled his enemies my warlike father: + Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. + See how the morning opes her golden gates, + And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! + How well resembles it the prime of youth, + Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love! + +EDWARD Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? + +RICHARD Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; + Not separated with the racking clouds, + But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. + See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, + As if they vow'd some league inviolable: + Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. + In this the heaven figures some event. + +EDWARD 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. + I think it cites us, brother, to the field, + That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, + Each one already blazing by our meeds, + Should notwithstanding join our lights together + And over-shine the earth as this the world. + Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear + Upon my target three fair-shining suns. + +RICHARD Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it, + You love the breeder better than the male. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell + Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? + +Messenger Ah, one that was a woful looker-on + When as the noble Duke of York was slain, + Your princely father and my loving lord! + +EDWARD O, speak no more, for I have heard too much. + +RICHARD Say how he died, for I will hear it all. + +Messenger Environed he was with many foes, + And stood against them, as the hope of Troy + Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. + But Hercules himself must yield to odds; + And many strokes, though with a little axe, + Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. + By many hands your father was subdued; + But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm + Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, + Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite, + Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, + The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks + A napkin steeped in the harmless blood + Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: + And after many scorns, many foul taunts, + They took his head, and on the gates of York + They set the same; and there it doth remain, + The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. + +EDWARD Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, + Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. + O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain + The flower of Europe for his chivalry; + And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, + For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. + Now my soul's palace is become a prison: + Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body + Might in the ground be closed up in rest! + For never henceforth shall I joy again, + Never, O never shall I see more joy! + +RICHARD I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture + Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: + Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen; + For selfsame wind that I should speak withal + Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, + And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. + To weep is to make less the depth of grief: + Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me + Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death, + Or die renowned by attempting it. + +EDWARD His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; + His dukedom and his chair with me is left. + +RICHARD Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, + Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: + For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; + Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. + + [March. Enter WARWICK, MONTAGUE, and their army] + +WARWICK How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad? + +RICHARD Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount + Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance + Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, + The words would add more anguish than the wounds. + O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! + +EDWARD O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet, + Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption, + Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. + +WARWICK Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; + And now, to add more measure to your woes, + I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. + After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, + Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, + Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, + Were brought me of your loss and his depart. + I, then in London keeper of the king, + Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, + And very well appointed, as I thought, + March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen, + Bearing the king in my behalf along; + For by my scouts I was advertised + That she was coming with a full intent + To dash our late decree in parliament + Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. + Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met + Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: + But whether 'twas the coldness of the king, + Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, + That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen; + Or whether 'twas report of her success; + Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, + Who thunders to his captives blood and death, + I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth, + Their weapons like to lightning came and went; + Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight, + Or like an idle thresher with a flail, + Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. + I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, + With promise of high pay and great rewards: + But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, + And we in them no hope to win the day; + So that we fled; the king unto the queen; + Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself, + In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you: + For in the marches here we heard you were, + Making another head to fight again. + +EDWARD Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? + And when came George from Burgundy to England? + +WARWICK Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; + And for your brother, he was lately sent + From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, + With aid of soldiers to this needful war. + +RICHARD 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: + Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, + But ne'er till now his scandal of retire. + +WARWICK Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; + For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine + Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, + And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, + Were he as famous and as bold in war + As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. + +RICHARD I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not: + 'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. + But in this troublous time what's to be done? + Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, + And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, + Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? + Or shall we on the helmets of our foes + Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? + If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords. + +WARWICK Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; + And therefore comes my brother Montague. + Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, + With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, + And of their feather many more proud birds, + Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. + He swore consent to your succession, + His oath enrolled in the parliament; + And now to London all the crew are gone, + To frustrate both his oath and what beside + May make against the house of Lancaster. + Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: + Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, + With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, + Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, + Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, + Why, Via! to London will we march amain, + And once again bestride our foaming steeds, + And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' + But never once again turn back and fly. + +RICHARD Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak: + Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, + That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay. + +EDWARD Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; + And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!-- + Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend! + +WARWICK No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York: + The next degree is England's royal throne; + For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd + In every borough as we pass along; + And he that throws not up his cap for joy + Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. + King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, + Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, + But sound the trumpets, and about our task. + +RICHARD Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, + As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, + I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. + +EDWARD Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +WARWICK How now! what news? + +Messenger The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, + The queen is coming with a puissant host; + And craves your company for speedy counsel. + +WARWICK Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let's away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Before York. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, + PRINCE EDWARD, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with + drum and trumpets] + +QUEEN MARGARET Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. + Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy + That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: + Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? + +KING HENRY VI Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: + To see this sight, it irks my very soul. + Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, + Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. + +CLIFFORD My gracious liege, this too much lenity + And harmful pity must be laid aside. + To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? + Not to the beast that would usurp their den. + Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? + Not his that spoils her young before her face. + Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? + Not he that sets his foot upon her back. + The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, + And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. + Ambitious York doth level at thy crown, + Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: + He, but a duke, would have his son a king, + And raise his issue, like a loving sire; + Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, + Didst yield consent to disinherit him, + Which argued thee a most unloving father. + Unreasonable creatures feed their young; + And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, + Yet, in protection of their tender ones, + Who hath not seen them, even with those wings + Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, + Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, + Offer their own lives in their young's defence? + For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! + Were it not pity that this goodly boy + Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, + And long hereafter say unto his child, + 'What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got + My careless father fondly gave away'? + Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; + And let his manly face, which promiseth + Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart + To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. + +KING HENRY VI Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, + Inferring arguments of mighty force. + But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear + That things ill-got had ever bad success? + And happy always was it for that son + Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? + I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; + And would my father had left me no more! + For all the rest is held at such a rate + As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep + Than in possession and jot of pleasure. + Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know + How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! + +QUEEN MARGARET My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh, + And this soft courage makes your followers faint. + You promised knighthood to our forward son: + Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. + Edward, kneel down. + +KING HENRY VI Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; + And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right. + +PRINCE My gracious father, by your kingly leave, + I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, + And in that quarrel use it to the death. + +CLIFFORD Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Royal commanders, be in readiness: + For with a band of thirty thousand men + Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York; + And in the towns, as they do march along, + Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: + Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. + +CLIFFORD I would your highness would depart the field: + The queen hath best success when you are absent. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. + +KING HENRY VI Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Be it with resolution then to fight. + +PRINCE EDWARD My royal father, cheer these noble lords + And hearten those that fight in your defence: + Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!' + + [March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, + NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers] + +EDWARD Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, + And set thy diadem upon my head; + Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? + +QUEEN MARGARET Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! + Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms + Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? + +EDWARD I am his king, and he should bow his knee; + I was adopted heir by his consent: + Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, + You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, + Have caused him, by new act of parliament, + To blot out me, and put his own son in. + +CLIFFORD And reason too: + Who should succeed the father but the son? + +RICHARD Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! + +CLIFFORD Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, + Or any he the proudest of thy sort. + +RICHARD 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? + +CLIFFORD Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. + +RICHARD For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. + +WARWICK What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? + +QUEEN MARGARET Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak? + When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, + Your legs did better service than your hands. + +WARWICK Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. + +CLIFFORD You said so much before, and yet you fled. + +WARWICK 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. + +NORTHUMBERLAND No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay. + +RICHARD Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. + Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain + The execution of my big-swoln heart + Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. + +CLIFFORD I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child? + +RICHARD Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, + As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; + But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed. + +KING HENRY VI Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. + +QUEEN MARGARET Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. + +KING HENRY VI I prithee, give no limits to my tongue: + I am a king, and privileged to speak. + +CLIFFORD My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here + Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. + +RICHARD Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword: + By him that made us all, I am resolved + that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. + +EDWARD Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? + A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, + That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown. + +WARWICK If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; + For York in justice puts his armour on. + +PRINCE EDWARD If that be right which Warwick says is right, + There is no wrong, but every thing is right. + +RICHARD Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; + For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. + +QUEEN MARGARET But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; + But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, + Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, + As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. + +RICHARD Iron of Naples hid with English gilt, + Whose father bears the title of a king,-- + As if a channel should be call'd the sea,-- + Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, + To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? + +EDWARD A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, + To make this shameless callet know herself. + Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, + Although thy husband may be Menelaus; + And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd + By that false woman, as this king by thee. + His father revell'd in the heart of France, + And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; + And had he match'd according to his state, + He might have kept that glory to this day; + But when he took a beggar to his bed, + And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, + Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, + That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, + And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. + For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? + Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; + And we, in pity of the gentle king, + Had slipp'd our claim until another age. + +GEORGE But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, + And that thy summer bred us no increase, + We set the axe to thy usurping root; + And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, + Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, + We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, + Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. + +EDWARD And, in this resolution, I defy thee; + Not willing any longer conference, + Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. + Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! + And either victory, or else a grave. + +QUEEN MARGARET Stay, Edward. + +EDWARD No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay: + These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in + Yorkshire. + + + [Alarum. Excursions. Enter WARWICK] + +WARWICK Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, + I lay me down a little while to breathe; + For strokes received, and many blows repaid, + Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, + And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. + + [Enter EDWARD, running] + +EDWARD Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! + For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. + +WARWICK How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good? + + [Enter GEORGE] + +GEORGE Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; + Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: + What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? + +EDWARD Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; + And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit. + + [Enter RICHARD] + +RICHARD Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? + Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, + Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; + And in the very pangs of death he cried, + Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, + 'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' + So, underneath the belly of their steeds, + That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, + The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. + +WARWICK Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: + I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. + Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, + Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; + And look upon, as if the tragedy + Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? + Here on my knee I vow to God above, + I'll never pause again, never stand still, + Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine + Or fortune given me measure of revenge. + +EDWARD O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; + And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! + And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, + I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, + Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, + Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands + That to my foes this body must be prey, + Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, + And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! + Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, + Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth. + +RICHARD Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, + Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: + I, that did never weep, now melt with woe + That winter should cut off our spring-time so. + +WARWICK Away, away! Once more, sweet lords farewell. + +GEORGE Yet let us all together to our troops, + And give them leave to fly that will not stay; + And call them pillars that will stand to us; + And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards + As victors wear at the Olympian games: + This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; + For yet is hope of life and victory. + Forslow no longer, make we hence amain. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD] + +RICHARD Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: + Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, + And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, + Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. + +CLIFFORD Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: + This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York; + And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; + And here's the heart that triumphs in their death + And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother + To execute the like upon thyself; + And so, have at thee! + + [They fight. WARWICK comes; CLIFFORD flies] + +RICHARD Nay Warwick, single out some other chase; + For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone] + +KING HENRY VI This battle fares like to the morning's war, + When dying clouds contend with growing light, + What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, + Can neither call it perfect day nor night. + Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea + Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; + Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea + Forced to retire by fury of the wind: + Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; + Now one the better, then another best; + Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, + Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: + So is the equal of this fell war. + Here on this molehill will I sit me down. + To whom God will, there be the victory! + For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, + Have chid me from the battle; swearing both + They prosper best of all when I am thence. + Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; + For what is in this world but grief and woe? + O God! methinks it were a happy life, + To be no better than a homely swain; + To sit upon a hill, as I do now, + To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, + Thereby to see the minutes how they run, + How many make the hour full complete; + How many hours bring about the day; + How many days will finish up the year; + How many years a mortal man may live. + When this is known, then to divide the times: + So many hours must I tend my flock; + So many hours must I take my rest; + So many hours must I contemplate; + So many hours must I sport myself; + So many days my ewes have been with young; + So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: + So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: + So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, + Pass'd over to the end they were created, + Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. + Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! + Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade + To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, + Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy + To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? + O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. + And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, + His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. + His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, + All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, + Is far beyond a prince's delicates, + His viands sparkling in a golden cup, + His body couched in a curious bed, + When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. + + [Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, + dragging in the dead body] + +Son Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. + This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, + May be possessed with some store of crowns; + And I, that haply take them from him now, + May yet ere night yield both my life and them + To some man else, as this dead man doth me. + Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, + Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. + O heavy times, begetting such events! + From London by the king was I press'd forth; + My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, + Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; + And I, who at his hands received my life, him + Have by my hands of life bereaved him. + Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! + And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! + My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; + And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. + +KING HENRY VI O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! + Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, + Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. + Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; + And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, + Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief. + + [Enter a Father that has killed his son, bringing in the body] + +Father Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, + Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: + For I have bought it with an hundred blows. + But let me see: is this our foeman's face? + Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! + Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, + Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, + Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, + Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart! + O, pity, God, this miserable age! + What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, + Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, + This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! + O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, + And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! + +KING HENRY VI Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! + O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! + O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! + The red rose and the white are on his face, + The fatal colours of our striving houses: + The one his purple blood right well resembles; + The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: + Wither one rose, and let the other flourish; + If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. + +Son How will my mother for a father's death + Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! + +Father How will my wife for slaughter of my son + Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! + +KING HENRY VI How will the country for these woful chances + Misthink the king and not be satisfied! + +Son Was ever son so rued a father's death? + +Father Was ever father so bemoan'd his son? + +KING HENRY VI Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe? + Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. + +Son I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. + + [Exit with the body] + +Father These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; + My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, + For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; + My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; + And so obsequious will thy father be, + Even for the loss of thee, having no more, + As Priam was for all his valiant sons. + I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, + For I have murdered where I should not kill. + + [Exit with the body] + +KING HENRY VI Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, + Here sits a king more woful than you are. + + [Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE + EDWARD, and EXETER] + +PRINCE EDWARD Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, + And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: + Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. + +QUEEN MARGARET Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain: + Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds + Having the fearful flying hare in sight, + With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, + And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, + Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. + +EXETER Away! for vengeance comes along with them: + Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; + Or else come after: I'll away before. + +KING HENRY VI Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: + Not that I fear to stay, but love to go + Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI Another part of the field. + + + [A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded] + +CLIFFORD Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, + Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. + O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow + More than my body's parting with my soul! + My love and fear glued many friends to thee; + And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. + Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, + The common people swarm like summer flies; + And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? + And who shines now but Henry's enemies? + O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent + That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds, + Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! + And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, + Or as thy father and his father did, + Giving no ground unto the house of York, + They never then had sprung like summer flies; + I and ten thousand in this luckless realm + Had left no mourning widows for our death; + And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. + For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? + And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? + Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; + No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: + The foe is merciless, and will not pity; + For at their hands I have deserved no pity. + The air hath got into my deadly wounds, + And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. + Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; + I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. + + [He faints] + + [Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, + MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers] + +EDWARD Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause, + And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. + Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, + That led calm Henry, though he were a king, + As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, + Command an argosy to stem the waves. + But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? + +WARWICK No, 'tis impossible he should escape, + For, though before his face I speak the words + Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: + And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. + + [CLIFFORD groans, and dies] + +EDWARD Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? + +RICHARD A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. + +EDWARD See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, + If friend or foe, let him be gently used. + +RICHARD Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; + Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch + In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, + But set his murdering knife unto the root + From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, + I mean our princely father, Duke of York. + +WARWICK From off the gates of York fetch down the head, + Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; + Instead whereof let this supply the room: + Measure for measure must be answered. + +EDWARD Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, + That nothing sung but death to us and ours: + Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, + And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. + +WARWICK I think his understanding is bereft. + Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? + Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, + And he nor sees nor hears us what we say. + +RICHARD O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth: + 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, + Because he would avoid such bitter taunts + Which in the time of death he gave our father. + +GEORGE If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words. + +RICHARD Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace. + +EDWARD Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. + +WARWICK Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. + +GEORGE While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. + +RICHARD Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. + +EDWARD Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee. + +GEORGE Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now? + +WARWICK They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont. + +RICHARD What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard + When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. + I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul, + If this right hand would buy two hour's life, + That I in all despite might rail at him, + This hand should chop it off, and with the + issuing blood + Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst + York and young Rutland could not satisfy. + +WARWICK Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head, + And rear it in the place your father's stands. + And now to London with triumphant march, + There to be crowned England's royal king: + From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, + And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen: + So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; + And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread + The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again; + For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, + Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. + First will I see the coronation; + And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, + To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. + +EDWARD Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; + For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, + And never will I undertake the thing + Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. + Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester, + And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself, + Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. + +RICHARD Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester; + For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous. + +WARWICK Tut, that's a foolish observation: + Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, + To see these honours in possession. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A forest in the north of England. + + + [Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands] + +First Keeper Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves; + For through this laund anon the deer will come; + And in this covert will we make our stand, + Culling the principal of all the deer. + +Second Keeper I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. + +First Keeper That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow + Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. + Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: + And, for the time shall not seem tedious, + I'll tell thee what befell me on a day + In this self-place where now we mean to stand. + +Second Keeper Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past. + + [Enter KING HENRY VI, disguised, with a prayerbook] + +KING HENRY VI From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, + To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. + No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; + Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, + Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed: + No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, + No humble suitors press to speak for right, + No, not a man comes for redress of thee; + For how can I help them, and not myself? + +First Keeper Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: + This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. + +KING HENRY VI Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, + For wise men say it is the wisest course. + +Second Keeper Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. + +First Keeper Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. + +KING HENRY VI My queen and son are gone to France for aid; + And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick + Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister + To wife for Edward: if this news be true, + Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; + For Warwick is a subtle orator, + And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. + By this account then Margaret may win him; + For she's a woman to be pitied much: + Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; + Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; + The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; + And Nero will be tainted with remorse, + To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. + Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give; + She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry, + He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. + She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed; + He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; + That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; + Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, + Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, + And in conclusion wins the king from her, + With promise of his sister, and what else, + To strengthen and support King Edward's place. + O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, + Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn! + +Second Keeper Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens? + +KING HENRY VI More than I seem, and less than I was born to: + A man at least, for less I should not be; + And men may talk of kings, and why not I? + +Second Keeper Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. + +KING HENRY VI Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. + +Second Keeper But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? + +KING HENRY VI My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: + A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. + +Second Keeper Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, + Your crown content and you must be contented + To go along with us; for as we think, + You are the king King Edward hath deposed; + And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance + Will apprehend you as his enemy. + +KING HENRY VI But did you never swear, and break an oath? + +Second Keeper No, never such an oath; nor will not now. + +KING HENRY VI Where did you dwell when I was King of England? + +Second Keeper Here in this country, where we now remain. + +KING HENRY VI I was anointed king at nine months old; + My father and my grandfather were kings, + And you were sworn true subjects unto me: + And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths? + +First Keeper No; + For we were subjects but while you were king. + +KING HENRY VI Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? + Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! + Look, as I blow this feather from my face, + And as the air blows it to me again, + Obeying with my wind when I do blow, + And yielding to another when it blows, + Commanded always by the greater gust; + Such is the lightness of you common men. + But do not break your oaths; for of that sin + My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. + Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; + And be you kings, command, and I'll obey. + +First Keeper We are true subjects to the king, King Edward. + +KING HENRY VI So would you be again to Henry, + If he were seated as King Edward is. + +First Keeper We charge you, in God's name, and the king's, + To go with us unto the officers. + +KING HENRY VI In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd: + And what God will, that let your king perform; + And what he will, I humbly yield unto. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II London. The palace. + + + [Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and + LADY GREY] + +KING EDWARD IV Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Alban's field + This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, + His lands then seized on by the conqueror: + Her suit is now to repossess those lands; + Which we in justice cannot well deny, + Because in quarrel of the house of York + The worthy gentleman did lose his life. + +GLOUCESTER Your highness shall do well to grant her suit; + It were dishonour to deny it her. + +KING EDWARD IV It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] Yea, is it so? + I see the lady hath a thing to grant, + Before the king will grant her humble suit. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] He knows the game: how true + he keeps the wind! + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] Silence! + +KING EDWARD IV Widow, we will consider of your suit; + And come some other time to know our mind. + +LADY GREY Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay: + May it please your highness to resolve me now; + And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant + you all your lands, + An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. + Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] I fear her not, unless she + chance to fall. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] God forbid that! for he'll + take vantages. + +KING EDWARD IV How many children hast thou, widow? tell me. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] I think he means to beg a + child of her. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] Nay, whip me then: he'll rather + give her two. + +LADY GREY Three, my most gracious lord. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] You shall have four, if you'll + be ruled by him. + +KING EDWARD IV 'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands. + +LADY GREY Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. + +KING EDWARD IV Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] Ay, good leave have you; for + you will have leave, + Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch. + + [GLOUCESTER and CLARENCE retire] + +KING EDWARD IV Now tell me, madam, do you love your children? + +LADY GREY Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. + +KING EDWARD IV And would you not do much to do them good? + +LADY GREY To do them good, I would sustain some harm. + +KING EDWARD IV Then get your husband's lands, to do them good. + +LADY GREY Therefore I came unto your majesty. + +KING EDWARD IV I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. + +LADY GREY So shall you bind me to your highness' service. + +KING EDWARD IV What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? + +LADY GREY What you command, that rests in me to do. + +KING EDWARD IV But you will take exceptions to my boon. + +LADY GREY No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. + +KING EDWARD IV Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. + +LADY GREY Why, then I will do what your grace commands. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] He plies her hard; and much rain + wears the marble. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] As red as fire! nay, then + her wax must melt. + +LADY GREY Why stops my lord, shall I not hear my task? + +KING EDWARD IV An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. + +LADY GREY That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. + +KING EDWARD IV Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. + +LADY GREY I take my leave with many thousand thanks. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] The match is made; she seals it + with a curtsy. + +KING EDWARD IV But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. + +LADY GREY The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. + +KING EDWARD IV Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. + What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? + +LADY GREY My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; + That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. + +KING EDWARD IV No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. + +LADY GREY Why, then you mean not as I thought you did. + +KING EDWARD IV But now you partly may perceive my mind. + +LADY GREY My mind will never grant what I perceive + Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. + +KING EDWARD IV To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. + +LADY GREY To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. + +KING EDWARD IV Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. + +LADY GREY Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; + For by that loss I will not purchase them. + +KING EDWARD IV Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. + +LADY GREY Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. + But, mighty lord, this merry inclination + Accords not with the sadness of my suit: + Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.' + +KING EDWARD IV Ay, if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request; + No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand. + +LADY GREY Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] The widow likes him not, she + knits her brows. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] He is the bluntest wooer in + Christendom. + +KING EDWARD IV [Aside] Her looks do argue her replete with modesty; + Her words do show her wit incomparable; + All her perfections challenge sovereignty: + One way or other, she is for a king; + And she shall be my love, or else my queen.-- + Say that King Edward take thee for his queen? + +LADY GREY 'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord: + I am a subject fit to jest withal, + But far unfit to be a sovereign. + +KING EDWARD IV Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee + I speak no more than what my soul intends; + And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. + +LADY GREY And that is more than I will yield unto: + I know I am too mean to be your queen, + And yet too good to be your concubine. + +KING EDWARD IV You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen. + +LADY GREY 'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father. + +KING EDWARD IV No more than when my daughters call thee mother. + Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; + And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, + Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing + To be the father unto many sons. + Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside to CLARENCE] The ghostly father now hath done + his shrift. + +CLARENCE [Aside to GLOUCESTER] When he was made a shriver, + 'twas for shift. + +KING EDWARD IV Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. + +GLOUCESTER The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. + +KING EDWARD IV You'll think it strange if I should marry her. + +CLARENCE To whom, my lord? + +KING EDWARD IV Why, Clarence, to myself. + +GLOUCESTER That would be ten days' wonder at the least. + +CLARENCE That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. + +GLOUCESTER By so much is the wonder in extremes. + +KING EDWARD IV Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both + Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. + + [Enter a Nobleman] + +Nobleman My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, + And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. + +KING EDWARD IV See that he be convey'd unto the Tower: + And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, + To question of his apprehension. + Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably. + + [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Ay, Edward will use women honourably. + Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all, + That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, + To cross me from the golden time I look for! + And yet, between my soul's desire and me-- + The lustful Edward's title buried-- + Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, + And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, + To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: + A cold premeditation for my purpose! + Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty; + Like one that stands upon a promontory, + And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, + Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, + And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, + Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way: + So do I wish the crown, being so far off; + And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; + And so I say, I'll cut the causes off, + Flattering me with impossibilities. + My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, + Unless my hand and strength could equal them. + Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; + What other pleasure can the world afford? + I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, + And deck my body in gay ornaments, + And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. + O miserable thought! and more unlikely + Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! + Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: + And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, + She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, + To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; + To make an envious mountain on my back, + Where sits deformity to mock my body; + To shape my legs of an unequal size; + To disproportion me in every part, + Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp + That carries no impression like the dam. + And am I then a man to be beloved? + O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! + Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, + But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such + As are of better person than myself, + I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, + And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, + Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head + Be round impaled with a glorious crown. + And yet I know not how to get the crown, + For many lives stand between me and home: + And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood, + That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns, + Seeking a way and straying from the way; + Not knowing how to find the open air, + But toiling desperately to find it out,-- + Torment myself to catch the English crown: + And from that torment I will free myself, + Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. + Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, + And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart, + And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, + And frame my face to all occasions. + I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; + I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; + I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, + Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, + And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. + I can add colours to the chameleon, + Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, + And set the murderous Machiavel to school. + Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? + Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. + + [Exit] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III France. KING LEWIS XI's palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING LEWIS XI, his sister BONA, + his Admiral, called BOURBON, PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN + MARGARET, and OXFORD. KING LEWIS XI sits, and + riseth up again] + +KING LEWIS XI Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, + Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state + And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit. + +QUEEN MARGARET No, mighty King of France: now Margaret + Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve + Where kings command. I was, I must confess, + Great Albion's queen in former golden days: + But now mischance hath trod my title down, + And with dishonour laid me on the ground; + Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, + And to my humble seat conform myself. + +KING LEWIS XI Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair? + +QUEEN MARGARET From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears + And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares. + +KING LEWIS XI Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, + And sit thee by our side: + + [Seats her by him] + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; + It shall be eased, if France can yield relief. + +QUEEN MARGARET Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts + And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. + Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, + That Henry, sole possessor of my love, + Is of a king become a banish'd man, + And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn; + While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York + Usurps the regal title and the seat + Of England's true-anointed lawful king. + This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, + With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, + Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; + And if thou fail us, all our hope is done: + Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; + Our people and our peers are both misled, + Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight, + And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. + +KING LEWIS XI Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm, + While we bethink a means to break it off. + +QUEEN MARGARET The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. + +KING LEWIS XI The more I stay, the more I'll succor thee. + +QUEEN MARGARET O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. + And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow! + + [Enter WARWICK] + +KING LEWIS XI What's he approacheth boldly to our presence? + +QUEEN MARGARET Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. + +KING LEWIS XI Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France? + + [He descends. She ariseth] + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, now begins a second storm to rise; + For this is he that moves both wind and tide. + +WARWICK From worthy Edward, King of Albion, + My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, + I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, + First, to do greetings to thy royal person; + And then to crave a league of amity; + And lastly, to confirm that amity + With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant + That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, + To England's king in lawful marriage. + +QUEEN MARGARET [Aside] If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. + +WARWICK [To BONA] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, + I am commanded, with your leave and favour, + Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue + To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; + Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, + Hath placed thy beauty's image and thy virtue. + +QUEEN MARGARET King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak, + Before you answer Warwick. His demand + Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, + But from deceit bred by necessity; + For how can tyrants safely govern home, + Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? + To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, + That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, + Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. + Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage + Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; + For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, + Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. + +WARWICK Injurious Margaret! + +PRINCE EDWARD And why not queen? + +WARWICK Because thy father Henry did usurp; + And thou no more are prince than she is queen. + +OXFORD Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, + Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; + And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, + Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; + And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, + Who by his prowess conquered all France: + From these our Henry lineally descends. + +WARWICK Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse, + You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost + All that which Henry Fifth had gotten? + Methinks these peers of France should smile at that. + But for the rest, you tell a pedigree + Of threescore and two years; a silly time + To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. + +OXFORD Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, + Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years, + And not bewray thy treason with a blush? + +WARWICK Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, + Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? + For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward king. + +OXFORD Call him my king by whose injurious doom + My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, + Was done to death? and more than so, my father, + Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, + When nature brought him to the door of death? + No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, + This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. + +WARWICK And I the house of York. + +KING LEWIS XI Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, + Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside, + While I use further conference with Warwick. + + [They stand aloof] + +QUEEN MARGARET Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not! + +KING LEWIS XI Now Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, + Is Edward your true king? for I were loath + To link with him that were not lawful chosen. + +WARWICK Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. + +KING LEWIS XI But is he gracious in the people's eye? + +WARWICK The more that Henry was unfortunate. + +KING LEWIS XI Then further, all dissembling set aside, + Tell me for truth the measure of his love + Unto our sister Bona. + +WARWICK Such it seems + As may beseem a monarch like himself. + Myself have often heard him say and swear + That this his love was an eternal plant, + Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, + The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun, + Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, + Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain. + +KING LEWIS XI Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. + +BONA Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine: + + [To WARWICK] + + Yet I confess that often ere this day, + When I have heard your king's desert recounted, + Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. + +KING LEWIS XI Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's; + And now forthwith shall articles be drawn + Touching the jointure that your king must make, + Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. + Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness + That Bona shall be wife to the English king. + +PRINCE EDWARD To Edward, but not to the English king. + +QUEEN MARGARET Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device + By this alliance to make void my suit: + Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend. + +KING LEWIS XI And still is friend to him and Margaret: + But if your title to the crown be weak, + As may appear by Edward's good success, + Then 'tis but reason that I be released + From giving aid which late I promised. + Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand + That your estate requires and mine can yield. + +WARWICK Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, + Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. + And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, + You have a father able to maintain you; + And better 'twere you troubled him than France. + +QUEEN MARGARET Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace, + Proud setter up and puller down of kings! + I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears, + Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold + Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; + For both of you are birds of selfsame feather. + + [Post blows a horn within] + +KING LEWIS XI Warwick, this is some post to us or thee. + + [Enter a Post] + +Post [To WARWICK] My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, + Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague: + + [To KING LEWIS XI] + + These from our king unto your majesty: + + [To QUEEN MARGARET] + + And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not. + + [They all read their letters] + +OXFORD I like it well that our fair queen and mistress + Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. + +PRINCE EDWARD Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as he were nettled: + I hope all's for the best. + +KING LEWIS XI Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen? + +QUEEN MARGARET Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys. + +WARWICK Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent. + +KING LEWIS XI What! has your king married the Lady Grey! + And now, to soothe your forgery and his, + Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? + Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? + Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? + +QUEEN MARGARET I told your majesty as much before: + This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty. + +WARWICK King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven, + And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, + That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, + No more my king, for he dishonours me, + But most himself, if he could see his shame. + Did I forget that by the house of York + My father came untimely to his death? + Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? + Did I impale him with the regal crown? + Did I put Henry from his native right? + And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? + Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: + And to repair my honour lost for him, + I here renounce him and return to Henry. + My noble queen, let former grudges pass, + And henceforth I am thy true servitor: + I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona, + And replant Henry in his former state. + +QUEEN MARGARET Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love; + And I forgive and quite forget old faults, + And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend. + +WARWICK So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, + That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us + With some few bands of chosen soldiers, + I'll undertake to land them on our coast + And force the tyrant from his seat by war. + 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him: + And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, + He's very likely now to fall from him, + For matching more for wanton lust than honour, + Or than for strength and safety of our country. + +BONA Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged + But by thy help to this distressed queen? + +QUEEN MARGARET Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live, + Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? + +BONA My quarrel and this English queen's are one. + +WARWICK And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours. + +KING LEWIS XI And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret's. + Therefore at last I firmly am resolved + You shall have aid. + +QUEEN MARGARET Let me give humble thanks for all at once. + +KING LEWIS XI Then, England's messenger, return in post, + And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, + That Lewis of France is sending over masquers + To revel it with him and his new bride: + Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal. + +BONA Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, + I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. + +QUEEN MARGARET Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside, + And I am ready to put armour on. + +WARWICK Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, + And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long. + There's thy reward: be gone. + + [Exit Post] + +KING LEWIS XI But, Warwick, + Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, + Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle; + And, as occasion serves, this noble queen + And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. + Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt, + What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? + +WARWICK This shall assure my constant loyalty, + That if our queen and this young prince agree, + I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy + To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. + +QUEEN MARGARET Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. + Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, + Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick; + And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, + That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. + +PRINCE EDWARD Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it; + And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. + + [He gives his hand to WARWICK] + +KING LEWIS XI Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied, + And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral, + Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet. + I long till Edward fall by war's mischance, + For mocking marriage with a dame of France. + + [Exeunt all but WARWICK] + +WARWICK I came from Edward as ambassador, + But I return his sworn and mortal foe: + Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, + But dreadful war shall answer his demand. + Had he none else to make a stale but me? + Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. + I was the chief that raised him to the crown, + And I'll be chief to bring him down again: + Not that I pity Henry's misery, + But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. + + [Exit] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I London. The palace. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, and MONTAGUE] + +GLOUCESTER Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you + Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey? + Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? + +CLARENCE Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France; + How could he stay till Warwick made return? + +SOMERSET My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king. + +GLOUCESTER And his well-chosen bride. + +CLARENCE I mind to tell him plainly what I think. + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, attended; QUEEN + ELIZABETH, PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and others] + +KING EDWARD IV Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, + That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? + +CLARENCE As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of Warwick, + Which are so weak of courage and in judgment + That they'll take no offence at our abuse. + +KING EDWARD IV Suppose they take offence without a cause, + They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward, + Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will. + +GLOUCESTER And shall have your will, because our king: + Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. + +KING EDWARD IV Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too? + +GLOUCESTER Not I: + No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd + Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity + To sunder them that yoke so well together. + +KING EDWARD IV Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, + Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey + Should not become my wife and England's queen. + And you too, Somerset and Montague, + Speak freely what you think. + +CLARENCE Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis + Becomes your enemy, for mocking him + About the marriage of the Lady Bona. + +GLOUCESTER And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, + Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. + +KING EDWARD IV What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased + By such invention as I can devise? + +MONTAGUE Yet, to have join'd with France in such alliance + Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth + 'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage. + +HASTINGS Why, knows not Montague that of itself + England is safe, if true within itself? + +MONTAGUE But the safer when 'tis back'd with France. + +HASTINGS 'Tis better using France than trusting France: + Let us be back'd with God and with the seas + Which He hath given for fence impregnable, + And with their helps only defend ourselves; + In them and in ourselves our safety lies. + +CLARENCE For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves + To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford. + +KING EDWARD IV Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant; + And for this once my will shall stand for law. + +GLOUCESTER And yet methinks your grace hath not done well, + To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales + Unto the brother of your loving bride; + She better would have fitted me or Clarence: + But in your bride you bury brotherhood. + +CLARENCE Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir + Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son, + And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. + +KING EDWARD IV Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife + That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. + +CLARENCE In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment, + Which being shallow, you give me leave + To play the broker in mine own behalf; + And to that end I shortly mind to leave you. + +KING EDWARD IV Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king, + And not be tied unto his brother's will. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH My lords, before it pleased his majesty + To raise my state to title of a queen, + Do me but right, and you must all confess + That I was not ignoble of descent; + And meaner than myself have had like fortune. + But as this title honours me and mine, + So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing, + Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. + +KING EDWARD IV My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns: + What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, + So long as Edward is thy constant friend, + And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? + Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, + Unless they seek for hatred at my hands; + Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, + And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] I hear, yet say not much, but think the more. + + [Enter a Post] + +KING EDWARD IV Now, messenger, what letters or what news + From France? + +Post My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words, + But such as I, without your special pardon, + Dare not relate. + +KING EDWARD IV Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief, + Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. + What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters? + +Post At my depart, these were his very words: + 'Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, + That Lewis of France is sending over masquers + To revel it with him and his new bride.' + +KING EDWARD IV Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me Henry. + But what said Lady Bona to my marriage? + +Post These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain: + 'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, + I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.' + +KING EDWARD IV I blame not her, she could say little less; + She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? + For I have heard that she was there in place. + +Post 'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done, + And I am ready to put armour on.' + +KING EDWARD IV Belike she minds to play the Amazon. + But what said Warwick to these injuries? + +Post He, more incensed against your majesty + Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: + 'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, + And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.' + +KING EDWARD IV Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? + Well I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd: + They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. + But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? + +Post Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in + friendship + That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. + +CLARENCE Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger. + Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, + For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; + That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage + I may not prove inferior to yourself. + You that love me and Warwick, follow me. + + [Exit CLARENCE, and SOMERSET follows] + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] Not I: + My thoughts aim at a further matter; I + Stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown. + +KING EDWARD IV Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! + Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; + And haste is needful in this desperate case. + Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf + Go levy men, and make prepare for war; + They are already, or quickly will be landed: + Myself in person will straight follow you. + + [Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD] + + But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague, + Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, + Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance: + Tell me if you love Warwick more than me? + If it be so, then both depart to him; + I rather wish you foes than hollow friends: + But if you mind to hold your true obedience, + Give me assurance with some friendly vow, + That I may never have you in suspect. + +MONTAGUE So God help Montague as he proves true! + +HASTINGS And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause! + +KING EDWARD IV Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us? + +GLOUCESTER Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. + +KING EDWARD IV Why, so! then am I sure of victory. + Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour, + Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II A plain in Warwickshire. + + + [Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French soldiers] + +WARWICK Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; + The common people by numbers swarm to us. + + [Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET] + + But see where Somerset and Clarence come! + Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? + +CLARENCE Fear not that, my lord. + +WARWICK Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; + And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice + To rest mistrustful where a noble heart + Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; + Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, + Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: + But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. + And now what rests but, in night's coverture, + Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, + His soldiers lurking in the towns about, + And but attended by a simple guard, + We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? + Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: + That as Ulysses and stout Diomede + With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, + And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, + So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, + At unawares may beat down Edward's guard + And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him, + For I intend but only to surprise him. + You that will follow me to this attempt, + Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. + + [They all cry, 'Henry!'] + + Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort: + For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Edward's camp, near Warwick. + + + [Enter three Watchmen, to guard KING EDWARD IV's tent] + +First Watchman Come on, my masters, each man take his stand: + The king by this is set him down to sleep. + +Second Watchman What, will he not to bed? + +First Watchman Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow + Never to lie and take his natural rest + Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd. + +Second Watchman To-morrow then belike shall be the day, + If Warwick be so near as men report. + +Third Watchman But say, I pray, what nobleman is that + That with the king here resteth in his tent? + +First Watchman 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend. + +Third Watchman O, is it so? But why commands the king + That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, + While he himself keeps in the cold field? + +Second Watchman 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous. + +Third Watchman Ay, but give me worship and quietness; + I like it better than a dangerous honour. + If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, + 'Tis to be doubted he would waken him. + +First Watchman Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. + +Second Watchman Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent, + But to defend his person from night-foes? + + [Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, SOMERSET, and + French soldiers, silent all] + +WARWICK This is his tent; and see where stand his guard. + Courage, my masters! honour now or never! + But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. + +First Watchman Who goes there? + +Second Watchman Stay, or thou diest! + + [WARWICK and the rest cry all, 'Warwick! Warwick!' + and set upon the Guard, who fly, crying, 'Arm! + arm!' WARWICK and the rest following them] + + [The drum playing and trumpet sounding, reenter + WARWICK, SOMERSET, and the rest, bringing KING + EDWARD IV out in his gown, sitting in a chair. + RICHARD and HASTINGS fly over the stage] + +SOMERSET What are they that fly there? + +WARWICK Richard and Hastings: let them go; here is The duke. + +KING EDWARD IV The duke! Why, Warwick, when we parted, + Thou call'dst me king. + +WARWICK Ay, but the case is alter'd: + When you disgraced me in my embassade, + Then I degraded you from being king, + And come now to create you Duke of York. + Alas! how should you govern any kingdom, + That know not how to use ambassadors, + Nor how to be contented with one wife, + Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, + Nor how to study for the people's welfare, + Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies? + +KING EDWARD IV Yea, brother of Clarence, are thou here too? + Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. + Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, + Of thee thyself and all thy complices, + Edward will always bear himself as king: + Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, + My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. + +WARWICK Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king: + + [Takes off his crown] + + But Henry now shall wear the English crown, + And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. + My Lord of Somerset, at my request, + See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd + Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. + When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, + I'll follow you, and tell what answer + Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. + Now, for a while farewell, good Duke of York. + + [They lead him out forcibly] + +KING EDWARD IV What fates impose, that men must needs abide; + It boots not to resist both wind and tide. + + [Exit, guarded] + +OXFORD What now remains, my lords, for us to do + But march to London with our soldiers? + +WARWICK Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; + To free King Henry from imprisonment + And see him seated in the regal throne. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV London. The palace. + + + [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS] + +RIVERS Madam, what makes you in this sudden change? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Why brother Rivers, are you yet to learn + What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward? + +RIVERS What! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH No, but the loss of his own royal person. + +RIVERS Then is my sovereign slain? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner, + Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard + Or by his foe surprised at unawares: + And, as I further have to understand, + Is new committed to the Bishop of York, + Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe. + +RIVERS These news I must confess are full of grief; + Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may: + Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay. + And I the rather wean me from despair + For love of Edward's offspring in my womb: + This is it that makes me bridle passion + And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross; + Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear + And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, + Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown + King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown. + +RIVERS But, madam, where is Warwick then become? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH I am inform'd that he comes towards London, + To set the crown once more on Henry's head: + Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down, + But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,-- + For trust not him that hath once broken faith,-- + I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, + To save at least the heir of Edward's right: + There shall I rest secure from force and fraud. + Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly: + If Warwick take us we are sure to die. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V A park near Middleham Castle In Yorkshire. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and STANLEY] + +GLOUCESTER Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, + Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, + Into this chiefest thicket of the park. + Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother, + Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands + He hath good usage and great liberty, + And, often but attended with weak guard, + Comes hunting this way to disport himself. + I have advertised him by secret means + That if about this hour he make his way + Under the colour of his usual game, + He shall here find his friends with horse and men + To set him free from his captivity. + + [Enter KING EDWARD IV and a Huntsman with him] + +Huntsman This way, my lord; for this way lies the game. + +KING EDWARD IV Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand. + Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, + Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer? + +GLOUCESTER Brother, the time and case requireth haste: + Your horse stands ready at the park-corner. + +KING EDWARD IV But whither shall we then? + +HASTINGS To Lynn, my lord, + And ship from thence to Flanders. + +GLOUCESTER Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning. + +KING EDWARD IV Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. + +GLOUCESTER But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk. + +KING EDWARD IV Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou go along? + +Huntsman Better do so than tarry and be hang'd. + +GLOUCESTER Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado. + +KING EDWARD IV Bishop, farewell: shield thee from Warwick's frown; + And pray that I may repossess the crown. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI London. The Tower. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLARENCE, WARWICK, + SOMERSET, HENRY OF RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, and + Lieutenant of the Tower] + +KING HENRY VI Master lieutenant, now that God and friends + Have shaken Edward from the regal seat, + And turn'd my captive state to liberty, + My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, + At our enlargement what are thy due fees? + +Lieutenant Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns; + But if an humble prayer may prevail, + I then crave pardon of your majesty. + +KING HENRY VI For what, lieutenant? for well using me? + Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, + For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; + Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds + Conceive when after many moody thoughts + At last by notes of household harmony + They quite forget their loss of liberty. + But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, + And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; + He was the author, thou the instrument. + Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite + By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me, + And that the people of this blessed land + May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, + Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, + I here resign my government to thee, + For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. + +WARWICK Your grace hath still been famed for virtuous; + And now may seem as wise as virtuous, + By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, + For few men rightly temper with the stars: + Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, + For choosing me when Clarence is in place. + +CLARENCE No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, + To whom the heavens in thy nativity + Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown, + As likely to be blest in peace and war; + And therefore I yield thee my free consent. + +WARWICK And I choose Clarence only for protector. + +KING HENRY VI Warwick and Clarence give me both your hands: + Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, + That no dissension hinder government: + I make you both protectors of this land, + While I myself will lead a private life + And in devotion spend my latter days, + To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise. + +WARWICK What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will? + +CLARENCE That he consents, if Warwick yield consent; + For on thy fortune I repose myself. + +WARWICK Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content: + We'll yoke together, like a double shadow + To Henry's body, and supply his place; + I mean, in bearing weight of government, + While he enjoys the honour and his ease. + And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful + Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, + And all his lands and goods be confiscate. + +CLARENCE What else? and that succession be determined. + +WARWICK Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. + +KING HENRY VI But, with the first of all your chief affairs, + Let me entreat, for I command no more, + That Margaret your queen and my son Edward + Be sent for, to return from France with speed; + For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear + My joy of liberty is half eclipsed. + +CLARENCE It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. + +KING HENRY VI My Lord of Somerset, what youth is that, + Of whom you seem to have so tender care? + +SOMERSET My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond. + +KING HENRY VI Come hither, England's hope. + + [Lays his hand on his head] + + If secret powers + Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, + This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. + His looks are full of peaceful majesty, + His head by nature framed to wear a crown, + His hand to wield a sceptre, and himself + Likely in time to bless a regal throne. + Make much of him, my lords, for this is he + Must help you more than you are hurt by me. + + [Enter a Post] + +WARWICK What news, my friend? + +Post That Edward is escaped from your brother, + And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. + +WARWICK Unsavoury news! but how made he escape? + +Post He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester + And the Lord Hastings, who attended him + In secret ambush on the forest side + And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him; + For hunting was his daily exercise. + +WARWICK My brother was too careless of his charge. + But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide + A salve for any sore that may betide. + + [Exeunt all but SOMERSET, HENRY OF RICHMOND, and OXFORD] + +SOMERSET My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's; + For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, + And we shall have more wars before 't be long. + As Henry's late presaging prophecy + Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond, + So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts + What may befall him, to his harm and ours: + Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, + Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, + Till storms be past of civil enmity. + +OXFORD Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, + 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down. + +SOMERSET It shall be so; he shall to Brittany. + Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII Before York. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, + HASTINGS, and Soldiers] + +KING EDWARD IV Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, + Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends, + And says that once more I shall interchange + My waned state for Henry's regal crown. + Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas + And brought desired help from Burgundy: + What then remains, we being thus arrived + From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, + But that we enter, as into our dukedom? + +GLOUCESTER The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this; + For many men that stumble at the threshold + Are well foretold that danger lurks within. + +KING EDWARD IV Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us: + By fair or foul means we must enter in, + For hither will our friends repair to us. + +HASTINGS My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them. + + [Enter, on the walls, the Mayor of York, and his Brethren] + +Mayor My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, + And shut the gates for safety of ourselves; + For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. + +KING EDWARD IV But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, + Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York. + +Mayor True, my good lord; I know you for no less. + +KING EDWARD IV Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, + As being well content with that alone. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] But when the fox hath once got in his nose, + He'll soon find means to make the body follow. + +HASTINGS Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt? + Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends. + +Mayor Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd. + + [They descend] + +GLOUCESTER A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded! + +HASTINGS The good old man would fain that all were well, + So 'twere not 'long of him; but being enter'd, + I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade + Both him and all his brothers unto reason. + + [Enter the Mayor and two Aldermen, below] + +KING EDWARD IV So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut + But in the night or in the time of war. + What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; + + [Takes his keys] + + For Edward will defend the town and thee, + And all those friends that deign to follow me. + + [March. Enter MONTGOMERY, with drum and soldiers] + +GLOUCESTER Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, + Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived. + +KING EDWARD IV Welcome, Sir John! But why come you in arms? + +MONTAGUE To help King Edward in his time of storm, + As every loyal subject ought to do. + +KING EDWARD IV Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget + Our title to the crown and only claim + Our dukedom till God please to send the rest. + +MONTAGUE Then fare you well, for I will hence again: + I came to serve a king and not a duke. + Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. + + [The drum begins to march] + +KING EDWARD IV Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and we'll debate + By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. + +MONTAGUE What talk you of debating? in few words, + If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, + I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone + To keep them back that come to succor you: + Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title? + +GLOUCESTER Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? + +KING EDWARD IV When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim: + Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. + +HASTINGS Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must rule. + +GLOUCESTER And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. + Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand: + The bruit thereof will bring you many friends. + +KING EDWARD IV Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right, + And Henry but usurps the diadem. + +MONTAGUE Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself; + And now will I be Edward's champion. + +HASTINGS Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim'd: + Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. + + [Flourish] + +Soldier Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of + England and France, and lord of Ireland, &c. + +MONTAGUE And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right, + By this I challenge him to single fight. + + [Throws down his gauntlet] + +All Long live Edward the Fourth! + +KING EDWARD IV Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all: + If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. + Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York; + And when the morning sun shall raise his car + Above the border of this horizon, + We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates; + For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. + Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee + To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! + Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. + Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day, + And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VIII London. The palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, WARWICK, MONTAGUE, + CLARENCE, EXETER, and OXFORD] + +WARWICK What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, + With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, + Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, + And with his troops doth march amain to London; + And many giddy people flock to him. + +KING HENRY VI Let's levy men, and beat him back again. + +CLARENCE A little fire is quickly trodden out; + Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench. + +WARWICK In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, + Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; + Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence, + Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, + The knights and gentlemen to come with thee: + Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, + Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find + Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st: + And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved, + In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. + My sovereign, with the loving citizens, + Like to his island girt in with the ocean, + Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, + Shall rest in London till we come to him. + Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply. + Farewell, my sovereign. + +KING HENRY VI Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. + +CLARENCE In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand. + +KING HENRY VI Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate! + +MONTAGUE Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave. + +OXFORD And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu. + +KING HENRY VI Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, + And all at once, once more a happy farewell. + +WARWICK Farewell, sweet lords: let's meet at Coventry. + + [Exeunt all but KING HENRY VI and EXETER] + +KING HENRY VI Here at the palace I will rest awhile. + Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? + Methinks the power that Edward hath in field + Should not be able to encounter mine. + +EXETER The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. + +KING HENRY VI That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame: + I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, + Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; + My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, + My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, + My mercy dried their water-flowing tears; + I have not been desirous of their wealth, + Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies. + Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd: + Then why should they love Edward more than me? + No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: + And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, + The lamb will never cease to follow him. + + [Shout within. 'A Lancaster! A Lancaster!'] + +EXETER Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these? + + [Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, and soldiers] + +KING EDWARD IV Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence; + And once again proclaim us King of England. + You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow: + Now stops thy spring; my sea sha$l suck them dry, + And swell so much the higher by their ebb. + Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak. + + [Exeunt some with KING HENRY VI] + + And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course + Where peremptory Warwick now remains: + The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay, + Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay. + +GLOUCESTER Away betimes, before his forces join, + And take the great-grown traitor unawares: + Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Coventry. + + + [Enter WARWICK, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, + and others upon the walls] + +WARWICK Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford? + How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? + +First Messenger By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. + +WARWICK How far off is our brother Montague? + Where is the post that came from Montague? + +Second Messenger By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. + + [Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE] + +WARWICK Say, Somerville, what says my loving son? + And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? + +SOMERSET At Southam I did leave him with his forces, + And do expect him here some two hours hence. + + [Drum heard] + +WARWICK Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. + +SOMERSET It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies: + The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick. + +WARWICK Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends. + +SOMERSET They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. + + [March: flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, + and soldiers] + +KING EDWARD IV Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. + +GLOUCESTER See how the surly Warwick mans the wall! + +WARWICK O unbid spite! is sportful Edward come? + Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, + That we could hear no news of his repair? + +KING EDWARD IV Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, + Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee, + Call Edward king and at his hands beg mercy? + And he shall pardon thee these outrages. + +WARWICK Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, + Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee own, + Call Warwick patron and be penitent? + And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. + +GLOUCESTER I thought, at least, he would have said the king; + Or did he make the jest against his will? + +WARWICK Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? + +GLOUCESTER Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give: + I'll do thee service for so good a gift. + +WARWICK 'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother. + +KING EDWARD IV Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. + +WARWICK Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: + And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; + And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. + +KING EDWARD IV But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner: + And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: + What is the body when the head is off? + +GLOUCESTER Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, + But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, + The king was slily finger'd from the deck! + You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace, + And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower. + +EDWARD 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. + +GLOUCESTER Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down: + Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. + +WARWICK I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, + And with the other fling it at thy face, + Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. + +KING EDWARD IV Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend, + This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair + Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off, + Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, + 'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.' + + [Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours] + +WARWICK O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes! + +OXFORD Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! + + [He and his forces enter the city] + +GLOUCESTER The gates are open, let us enter too. + +KING EDWARD IV So other foes may set upon our backs. + Stand we in good array; for they no doubt + Will issue out again and bid us battle: + If not, the city being but of small defence, + We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. + +WARWICK O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. + + [Enter MONTAGUE with drum and colours] + +MONTAGUE Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! + + [He and his forces enter the city] + +GLOUCESTER Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason + Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. + +KING EDWARD IV The harder match'd, the greater victory: + My mind presageth happy gain and conquest. + + [Enter SOMERSET, with drum and colours] + +SOMERSET Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! + + [He and his forces enter the city] + +GLOUCESTER Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, + Have sold their lives unto the house of York; + And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold. + + [Enter CLARENCE, with drum and colours] + +WARWICK And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, + Of force enough to bid his brother battle; + With whom an upright zeal to right prevails + More than the nature of a brother's love! + Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call. + +CLARENCE Father of Warwick, know you what this means? + + [Taking his red rose out of his hat] + + Look here, I throw my infamy at thee + I will not ruinate my father's house, + Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, + And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick, + That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, + To bend the fatal instruments of war + Against his brother and his lawful king? + Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath: + To keep that oath were more impiety + Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter. + I am so sorry for my trespass made + That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, + I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, + With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee-- + As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad-- + To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. + And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, + And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. + Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends: + And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, + For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. + +KING EDWARD IV Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved, + Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. + +GLOUCESTER Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike. + +WARWICK O passing traitor, perjured and unjust! + +KING EDWARD IV What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight? + Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? + +WARWICK Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence! + I will away towards Barnet presently, + And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest. + +KING EDWARD IV Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way. + Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory! + + [Exeunt King Edward and his company. March. Warwick + and his company follow] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II A field of battle near Barnet. + + + [Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringing + forth WARWICK wounded] + +KING EDWARD IV So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear; + For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all. + Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, + That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. + + [Exit] + +WARWICK Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, + And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? + Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, + My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows. + That I must yield my body to the earth + And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. + Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, + Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, + Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, + Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree + And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. + These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, + Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, + To search the secret treasons of the world: + The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, + Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; + For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? + And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow? + Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! + My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. + Even now forsake me, and of all my lands + Is nothing left me but my body's length. + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + [Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET] + +SOMERSET Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are. + We might recover all our loss again; + The queen from France hath brought a puissant power: + Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly! + +WARWICK Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, + If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand. + And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! + Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst, + Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood + That glues my lips and will not let me speak. + Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. + +SOMERSET Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last; + And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, + And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.' + And more he would have said, and more he spoke, + Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, + That mought not be distinguished; but at last + I well might hear, delivered with a groan, + 'O, farewell, Warwick!' + +WARWICK Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves; + For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. + + [Dies] + +OXFORD Away, away, to meet the queen's great power! + + [Here they bear away his body. Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Another part of the field. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV in triumph; with + GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest] + +KING EDWARD IV Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, + And we are graced with wreaths of victory. + But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, + I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, + That will encounter with our glorious sun, + Ere he attain his easeful western bed: + I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen + Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast + And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. + +CLARENCE A little gale will soon disperse that cloud + And blow it to the source from whence it came: + The very beams will dry those vapours up, + For every cloud engenders not a storm. + +GLOUCESTER The queen is valued thirty thousand strong, + And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her: + If she have time to breathe be well assured + Her faction will be full as strong as ours. + +KING EDWARD IV We are advertised by our loving friends + That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury: + We, having now the best at Barnet field, + Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; + And, as we march, our strength will be augmented + In every county as we go along. + Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Plains near Tewksbury. + + + [March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, + SOMERSET, OXFORD, and soldiers] + +QUEEN MARGARET Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, + But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. + What though the mast be now blown overboard, + The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, + And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? + Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he + Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad + With tearful eyes add water to the sea + And give more strength to that which hath too much, + Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, + Which industry and courage might have saved? + Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! + Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? + And Montague our topmost; what of him? + Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these? + Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? + And Somerset another goodly mast? + The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? + And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I + For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? + We will not from the helm to sit and weep, + But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, + From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck. + As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. + And what is Edward but ruthless sea? + What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? + And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? + All these the enemies to our poor bark. + Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! + Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink: + Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, + Or else you famish; that's a threefold death. + This speak I, lords, to let you understand, + If case some one of you would fly from us, + That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers + More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. + Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided + 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. + +PRINCE EDWARD Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit + Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, + Infuse his breast with magnanimity + And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. + I speak not this as doubting any here + For did I but suspect a fearful man + He should have leave to go away betimes, + Lest in our need he might infect another + And make him of like spirit to himself. + If any such be here--as God forbid!-- + Let him depart before we need his help. + +OXFORD Women and children of so high a courage, + And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame. + O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather + Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live + To bear his image and renew his glories! + +SOMERSET And he that will not fight for such a hope. + Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, + If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at. + +QUEEN MARGARET Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks. + +PRINCE EDWARD And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand. + Ready to fight; therefore be resolute. + +OXFORD I thought no less: it is his policy + To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. + +SOMERSET But he's deceived; we are in readiness. + +QUEEN MARGARET This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness. + +OXFORD Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge. + + [Flourish and march. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, + CLARENCE, and soldiers] + +KING EDWARD IV Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood, + Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength, + Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. + I need not add more fuel to your fire, + For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out + Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords! + +QUEEN MARGARET Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say + My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, + Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. + Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, + Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, + His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, + His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent; + And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. + You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, + Be valiant and give signal to the fight. + + [Alarum. Retreat. Excursions. Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, + and soldiers; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and + SOMERSET, prisoners] + +KING EDWARD IV Now here a period of tumultuous broils. + Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight: + For Somerset, off with his guilty head. + Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. + +OXFORD For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. + +SOMERSET Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. + + [Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded] + +QUEEN MARGARET So part we sadly in this troublous world, + To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. + +KING EDWARD IV Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward + Shall have a high reward, and he his life? + +GLOUCESTER It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes! + + [Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD] + +KING EDWARD IV Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak. + What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? + Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make + For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, + And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? + +PRINCE EDWARD Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York! + Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; + Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou, + Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, + Which traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ah, that thy father had been so resolved! + +GLOUCESTER That you might still have worn the petticoat, + And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. + +PRINCE EDWARD Let AEsop fable in a winter's night; + His currish riddles sort not with this place. + +GLOUCESTER By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word. + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. + +GLOUCESTER For God's sake, take away this captive scold. + +PRINCE EDWARD Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather. + +KING EDWARD IV Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. + +CLARENCE Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. + +PRINCE EDWARD I know my duty; you are all undutiful: + Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, + And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all + I am your better, traitors as ye are: + And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. + +KING EDWARD IV Take that, thou likeness of this railer here. + + [Stabs him] + +GLOUCESTER Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony. + + [Stabs him] + +CLARENCE And there's for twitting me with perjury. + + [Stabs him] + +QUEEN MARGARET O, kill me too! + +GLOUCESTER Marry, and shall. + + [Offers to kill her] + +KING EDWARD IV Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much. + +GLOUCESTER Why should she live, to fill the world with words? + +KING EDWARD IV What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery. + +GLOUCESTER Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother; + I'll hence to London on a serious matter: + Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. + +CLARENCE What? what? + +GLOUCESTER The Tower, the Tower. + + [Exit] + +QUEEN MARGARET O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy! + Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers! + They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all, + Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, + If this foul deed were by to equal it: + He was a man; this, in respect, a child: + And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. + What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? + No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak: + And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. + Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! + How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! + You have no children, butchers! if you had, + The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse: + But if you ever chance to have a child, + Look in his youth to have him so cut off + As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince! + +KING EDWARD IV Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce. + +QUEEN MARGARET Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here, + Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: + What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou. + +CLARENCE By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. + +QUEEN MARGARET Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it. + +CLARENCE Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it? + +QUEEN MARGARET Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: + 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. + What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher, + Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? + Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed; + Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. + +KING EDWARD IV Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence. + +QUEEN MARGARET So come to you and yours, as to this Prince! + + [Exit, led out forcibly] + +KING EDWARD IV Where's Richard gone? + +CLARENCE To London, all in post; and, as I guess, + To make a bloody supper in the Tower. + +KING EDWARD IV He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. + Now march we hence: discharge the common sort + With pay and thanks, and let's away to London + And see our gentle queen how well she fares: + By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI London. The Tower. + + + [Enter KING HENRY VI and GLOUCESTER, with the + Lieutenant, on the walls] + +GLOUCESTER Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard? + +KING HENRY VI Ay, my good lord:--my lord, I should say rather; + 'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better: + 'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike, + And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.' + +GLOUCESTER Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. + + [Exit Lieutenant] + +KING HENRY VI So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; + So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece + And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. + What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? + +GLOUCESTER Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; + The thief doth fear each bush an officer. + +KING HENRY VI The bird that hath been limed in a bush, + With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush; + And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, + Have now the fatal object in my eye + Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd. + +GLOUCESTER Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, + That taught his son the office of a fowl! + An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. + +KING HENRY VI I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; + Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; + The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy + Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea + Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. + Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! + My breast can better brook thy dagger's point + Than can my ears that tragic history. + But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? + +GLOUCESTER Think'st thou I am an executioner? + +KING HENRY VI A persecutor, I am sure, thou art: + If murdering innocents be executing, + Why, then thou art an executioner. + +GLOUCESTER Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. + +KING HENRY VI Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume, + Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. + And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand, + Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, + And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's, + And many an orphan's water-standing eye-- + Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, + And orphans for their parents timeless death-- + Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. + The owl shriek'd at thy birth,--an evil sign; + The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; + Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees; + The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, + And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. + Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, + And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, + To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, + Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. + Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, + To signify thou camest to bite the world: + And, if the rest be true which I have heard, + Thou camest-- + +GLOUCESTER I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech: + + [Stabs him] + + For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. + +KING HENRY VI Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. + God forgive my sins, and pardon thee! + + [Dies] + +GLOUCESTER What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster + Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. + See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! + O, may such purple tears be alway shed + From those that wish the downfall of our house! + If any spark of life be yet remaining, + Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither: + + [Stabs him again] + + I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. + Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; + For I have often heard my mother say + I came into the world with my legs forward: + Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, + And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? + The midwife wonder'd and the women cried + 'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' + And so I was; which plainly signified + That I should snarl and bite and play the dog. + Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, + Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. + I have no brother, I am like no brother; + And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine, + Be resident in men like one another + And not in me: I am myself alone. + Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light: + But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; + For I will buz abroad such prophecies + That Edward shall be fearful of his life, + And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. + King Henry and the prince his son are gone: + Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, + Counting myself but bad till I be best. + I'll throw thy body in another room + And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. + + [Exit, with the body] + + + + + 3 KING HENRY VI + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VII London. The palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, QUEEN ELIZABETH, + CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, a Nurse with the + young Prince, and Attendants] + +KING EDWARD IV Once more we sit in England's royal throne, + Re-purchased with the blood of enemies. + What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, + Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride! + Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd + For hardy and undoubted champions; + Two Cliffords, as the father and the son, + And two Northumberlands; two braver men + Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound; + With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, + That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion + And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. + Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat + And made our footstool of security. + Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. + Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself + Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night, + Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, + That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; + And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; + For yet I am not look'd on in the world. + This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave; + And heave it shall some weight, or break my back: + Work thou the way,--and thou shalt execute. + +KING EDWARD IV Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; + And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. + +CLARENCE The duty that I owe unto your majesty + I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. + +GLOUCESTER And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, + Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. + [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master, + And cried 'all hail!' when as he meant all harm. + +KING EDWARD IV Now am I seated as my soul delights, + Having my country's peace and brothers' loves. + +CLARENCE What will your grace have done with Margaret? + Reignier, her father, to the king of France + Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, + And hither have they sent it for her ransom. + +KING EDWARD IV Away with her, and waft her hence to France. + And now what rests but that we spend the time + With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, + Such as befits the pleasure of the court? + Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy! + For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. + + [Exeunt] + KING HENRY V + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING HENRY the Fifth. (KING HENRY V) + +DUKE OF GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:) | + | brothers to the King. +DUKE OF BEDFORD (BEDFORD:) | + + +DUKE OF EXETER uncle to the King. (EXETER:) + +DUKE OF YORK cousin to the King. (YORK:) + +EARL OF SALISBURY (SALISBURY:) + +EARL OF +WESTMORELAND (WESTMORELAND:) + +EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:) + +BISHOP OF +CANTERBURY (CANTERBURY:) + +BISHOP OF ELY (ELY:) + +EARL OF CAMBRIDGE (CAMBRIDGE:) + +LORD SCROOP (SCROOP:) + +SIR THOMAS GREY (GREY:) + + +SIR +THOMAS ERPINGHAM (ERPINGHAM:) | + | +GOWER | + | +FLUELLEN | Officers in King Henry's army. + | +MACMORRIS | + | +JAMY | + + +BATES | + | +COURT | soldiers in the same. + | +WILLIAMS | + + +PISTOL: + +NYM: + +BARDOLPH: + + Boy + A Herald. + +CHARLES the Sixth King of France. (KING OF FRANCE:) (FRENCH KING:) + +LEWIS the Dauphin. (DAUPHIN:) + +DUKE OF BURGUNDY (BURGUNDY:) + +DUKE OF ORLEANS (ORLEANS:) + +DUKE OF BOURBON (BOURBON:) + + The Constable of France. (Constable:) + + +RAMBURES | + | French Lords. +GRANDPRE | + + +GOVERNOR of Harfleur. + +MONTJOY a French Herald. + + Ambassadors to the King of England. + +ISABEL Queen of France. (QUEEN ISABEL:) + +KATHARINE daughter to Charles and Isabel. + +ALICE a lady attending on her. + + Hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap formerly + Mistress Quickly, and now married to Pistol. + Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Citizens, + Messengers, and Attendants. Chorus. + (Hostess:) + (First Ambassador:) + (Messenger:) + (French Soldier:) + +SCENE England; afterwards France. + + + + + KING HENRY V + + PROLOGUE + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend + The brightest heaven of invention, + A kingdom for a stage, princes to act + And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! + Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, + Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, + Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire + Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all, + The flat unraised spirits that have dared + On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth + So great an object: can this cockpit hold + The vasty fields of France? or may we cram + Within this wooden O the very casques + That did affright the air at Agincourt? + O, pardon! since a crooked figure may + Attest in little place a million; + And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, + On your imaginary forces work. + Suppose within the girdle of these walls + Are now confined two mighty monarchies, + Whose high upreared and abutting fronts + The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder: + Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; + Into a thousand parts divide on man, + And make imaginary puissance; + Think when we talk of horses, that you see them + Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth; + For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings, + Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times, + Turning the accomplishment of many years + Into an hour-glass: for the which supply, + Admit me Chorus to this history; + Who prologue-like your humble patience pray, + Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. An ante-chamber in the KING'S palace. + + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, and the BISHOP OF ELY] + +CANTERBURY My lord, I'll tell you; that self bill is urged, + Which in the eleventh year of the last king's reign + Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, + But that the scambling and unquiet time + Did push it out of farther question. + +ELY But how, my lord, shall we resist it now? + +CANTERBURY It must be thought on. If it pass against us, + We lose the better half of our possession: + For all the temporal lands which men devout + By testament have given to the church + Would they strip from us; being valued thus: + As much as would maintain, to the king's honour, + Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, + Six thousand and two hundred good esquires; + And, to relief of lazars and weak age, + Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil. + A hundred almshouses right well supplied; + And to the coffers of the king beside, + A thousand pounds by the year: thus runs the bill. + +ELY This would drink deep. + +CANTERBURY 'Twould drink the cup and all. + +ELY But what prevention? + +CANTERBURY The king is full of grace and fair regard. + +ELY And a true lover of the holy church. + +CANTERBURY The courses of his youth promised it not. + The breath no sooner left his father's body, + But that his wildness, mortified in him, + Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment + Consideration, like an angel, came + And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him, + Leaving his body as a paradise, + To envelop and contain celestial spirits. + Never was such a sudden scholar made; + Never came reformation in a flood, + With such a heady currance, scouring faults + Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness + So soon did lose his seat and all at once + As in this king. + +ELY We are blessed in the change. + +CANTERBURY Hear him but reason in divinity, + And all-admiring with an inward wish + You would desire the king were made a prelate: + Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, + You would say it hath been all in all his study: + List his discourse of war, and you shall hear + A fearful battle render'd you in music: + Turn him to any cause of policy, + The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, + Familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks, + The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, + And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, + To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; + So that the art and practic part of life + Must be the mistress to this theoric: + Which is a wonder how his grace should glean it, + Since his addiction was to courses vain, + His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow, + His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets, sports, + And never noted in him any study, + Any retirement, any sequestration + From open haunts and popularity. + +ELY The strawberry grows underneath the nettle + And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best + Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality: + And so the prince obscured his contemplation + Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt, + Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, + Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty. + +CANTERBURY It must be so; for miracles are ceased; + And therefore we must needs admit the means + How things are perfected. + +ELY But, my good lord, + How now for mitigation of this bill + Urged by the commons? Doth his majesty + Incline to it, or no? + +CANTERBURY He seems indifferent, + Or rather swaying more upon our part + Than cherishing the exhibiters against us; + For I have made an offer to his majesty, + Upon our spiritual convocation + And in regard of causes now in hand, + Which I have open'd to his grace at large, + As touching France, to give a greater sum + Than ever at one time the clergy yet + Did to his predecessors part withal. + +ELY How did this offer seem received, my lord? + +CANTERBURY With good acceptance of his majesty; + Save that there was not time enough to hear, + As I perceived his grace would fain have done, + The severals and unhidden passages + Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms + And generally to the crown and seat of France + Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather. + +ELY What was the impediment that broke this off? + +CANTERBURY The French ambassador upon that instant + Craved audience; and the hour, I think, is come + To give him hearing: is it four o'clock? + +ELY It is. + +CANTERBURY Then go we in, to know his embassy; + Which I could with a ready guess declare, + Before the Frenchman speak a word of it. + +ELY I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. The Presence chamber. + + + [Enter KING HENRY V, GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, + WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and Attendants] + +KING HENRY V Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury? + +EXETER Not here in presence. + +KING HENRY V Send for him, good uncle. + +WESTMORELAND Shall we call in the ambassador, my liege? + +KING HENRY V Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolved, + Before we hear him, of some things of weight + That task our thoughts, concerning us and France. + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, and the BISHOP of ELY] + +CANTERBURY God and his angels guard your sacred throne + And make you long become it! + +KING HENRY V Sure, we thank you. + My learned lord, we pray you to proceed + And justly and religiously unfold + Why the law Salique that they have in France + Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim: + And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, + That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, + Or nicely charge your understanding soul + With opening titles miscreate, whose right + Suits not in native colours with the truth; + For God doth know how many now in health + Shall drop their blood in approbation + Of what your reverence shall incite us to. + Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, + How you awake our sleeping sword of war: + We charge you, in the name of God, take heed; + For never two such kingdoms did contend + Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless drops + Are every one a woe, a sore complaint + 'Gainst him whose wrong gives edge unto the swords + That make such waste in brief mortality. + Under this conjuration, speak, my lord; + For we will hear, note and believe in heart + That what you speak is in your conscience wash'd + As pure as sin with baptism. + +CANTERBURY Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers, + That owe yourselves, your lives and services + To this imperial throne. There is no bar + To make against your highness' claim to France + But this, which they produce from Pharamond, + 'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant:' + 'No woman shall succeed in Salique land:' + Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze + To be the realm of France, and Pharamond + The founder of this law and female bar. + Yet their own authors faithfully affirm + That the land Salique is in Germany, + Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe; + Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons, + There left behind and settled certain French; + Who, holding in disdain the German women + For some dishonest manners of their life, + Establish'd then this law; to wit, no female + Should be inheritrix in Salique land: + Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, + Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. + Then doth it well appear that Salique law + Was not devised for the realm of France: + Nor did the French possess the Salique land + Until four hundred one and twenty years + After defunction of King Pharamond, + Idly supposed the founder of this law; + Who died within the year of our redemption + Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great + Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French + Beyond the river Sala, in the year + Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say, + King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, + Did, as heir general, being descended + Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, + Make claim and title to the crown of France. + Hugh Capet also, who usurped the crown + Of Charles the duke of Lorraine, sole heir male + Of the true line and stock of Charles the Great, + To find his title with some shows of truth, + 'Through, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught, + Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare, + Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son + To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son + Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the Tenth, + Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, + Could not keep quiet in his conscience, + Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied + That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, + Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, + Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorraine: + By the which marriage the line of Charles the Great + Was re-united to the crown of France. + So that, as clear as is the summer's sun. + King Pepin's title and Hugh Capet's claim, + King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear + To hold in right and title of the female: + So do the kings of France unto this day; + Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law + To bar your highness claiming from the female, + And rather choose to hide them in a net + Than amply to imbar their crooked titles + Usurp'd from you and your progenitors. + +KING HENRY V May I with right and conscience make this claim? + +CANTERBURY The sin upon my head, dread sovereign! + For in the book of Numbers is it writ, + When the man dies, let the inheritance + Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, + Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag; + Look back into your mighty ancestors: + Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, + From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit, + And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, + Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy, + Making defeat on the full power of France, + Whiles his most mighty father on a hill + Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp + Forage in blood of French nobility. + O noble English. that could entertain + With half their forces the full Pride of France + And let another half stand laughing by, + All out of work and cold for action! + +ELY Awake remembrance of these valiant dead + And with your puissant arm renew their feats: + You are their heir; you sit upon their throne; + The blood and courage that renowned them + Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege + Is in the very May-morn of his youth, + Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. + +EXETER Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth + Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, + As did the former lions of your blood. + +WESTMORELAND They know your grace hath cause and means and might; + So hath your highness; never king of England + Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, + Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England + And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France. + +CANTERBURY O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege, + With blood and sword and fire to win your right; + In aid whereof we of the spiritualty + Will raise your highness such a mighty sum + As never did the clergy at one time + Bring in to any of your ancestors. + +KING HENRY V We must not only arm to invade the French, + But lay down our proportions to defend + Against the Scot, who will make road upon us + With all advantages. + +CANTERBURY They of those marches, gracious sovereign, + Shall be a wall sufficient to defend + Our inland from the pilfering borderers. + +KING HENRY V We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, + But fear the main intendment of the Scot, + Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; + For you shall read that my great-grandfather + Never went with his forces into France + But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom + Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, + With ample and brim fulness of his force, + Galling the gleaned land with hot assays, + Girding with grievous siege castles and towns; + That England, being empty of defence, + Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. + +CANTERBURY She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege; + For hear her but exampled by herself: + When all her chivalry hath been in France + And she a mourning widow of her nobles, + She hath herself not only well defended + But taken and impounded as a stray + The King of Scots; whom she did send to France, + To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings + And make her chronicle as rich with praise + As is the ooze and bottom of the sea + With sunken wreck and sunless treasuries. + +WESTMORELAND But there's a saying very old and true, + 'If that you will France win, + Then with Scotland first begin:' + For once the eagle England being in prey, + To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot + Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs, + Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, + To tear and havoc more than she can eat. + +EXETER It follows then the cat must stay at home: + Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, + Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries, + And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. + While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, + The advised head defends itself at home; + For government, though high and low and lower, + Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, + Congreeing in a full and natural close, + Like music. + +CANTERBURY Therefore doth heaven divide + The state of man in divers functions, + Setting endeavour in continual motion; + To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, + Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, + Creatures that by a rule in nature teach + The act of order to a peopled kingdom. + They have a king and officers of sorts; + Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, + Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, + Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, + Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, + Which pillage they with merry march bring home + To the tent-royal of their emperor; + Who, busied in his majesty, surveys + The singing masons building roofs of gold, + The civil citizens kneading up the honey, + The poor mechanic porters crowding in + Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, + The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, + Delivering o'er to executors pale + The lazy yawning drone. I this infer, + That many things, having full reference + To one consent, may work contrariously: + As many arrows, loosed several ways, + Come to one mark; as many ways meet in one town; + As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea; + As many lines close in the dial's centre; + So may a thousand actions, once afoot. + End in one purpose, and be all well borne + Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. + Divide your happy England into four; + Whereof take you one quarter into France, + And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. + If we, with thrice such powers left at home, + Cannot defend our own doors from the dog, + Let us be worried and our nation lose + The name of hardiness and policy. + +KING HENRY V Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. + + [Exeunt some Attendants] + + Now are we well resolved; and, by God's help, + And yours, the noble sinews of our power, + France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe, + Or break it all to pieces: or there we'll sit, + Ruling in large and ample empery + O'er France and all her almost kingly dukedoms, + Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, + Tombless, with no remembrance over them: + Either our history shall with full mouth + Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, + Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, + Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph. + + [Enter Ambassadors of France] + + Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure + Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear + Your greeting is from him, not from the king. + +First Ambassador May't please your majesty to give us leave + Freely to render what we have in charge; + Or shall we sparingly show you far off + The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy? + +KING HENRY V We are no tyrant, but a Christian king; + Unto whose grace our passion is as subject + As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons: + Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness + Tell us the Dauphin's mind. + +First Ambassador Thus, then, in few. + Your highness, lately sending into France, + Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right + Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. + In answer of which claim, the prince our master + Says that you savour too much of your youth, + And bids you be advised there's nought in France + That can be with a nimble galliard won; + You cannot revel into dukedoms there. + He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, + This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, + Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim + Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. + +KING HENRY V What treasure, uncle? + +EXETER Tennis-balls, my liege. + +KING HENRY V We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; + His present and your pains we thank you for: + When we have march'd our rackets to these balls, + We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set + Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard. + Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler + That all the courts of France will be disturb'd + With chaces. And we understand him well, + How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, + Not measuring what use we made of them. + We never valued this poor seat of England; + And therefore, living hence, did give ourself + To barbarous licence; as 'tis ever common + That men are merriest when they are from home. + But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, + Be like a king and show my sail of greatness + When I do rouse me in my throne of France: + For that I have laid by my majesty + And plodded like a man for working-days, + But I will rise there with so full a glory + That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, + Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. + And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his + Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his soul + Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance + That shall fly with them: for many a thousand widows + Shall this his mock mock out of their dear husbands; + Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles down; + And some are yet ungotten and unborn + That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn. + But this lies all within the will of God, + To whom I do appeal; and in whose name + Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on, + To venge me as I may and to put forth + My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. + So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin + His jest will savour but of shallow wit, + When thousands weep more than did laugh at it. + Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well. + + [Exeunt Ambassadors] + +EXETER This was a merry message. + +KING HENRY V We hope to make the sender blush at it. + Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour + That may give furtherance to our expedition; + For we have now no thought in us but France, + Save those to God, that run before our business. + Therefore let our proportions for these wars + Be soon collected and all things thought upon + That may with reasonable swiftness add + More feathers to our wings; for, God before, + We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. + Therefore let every man now task his thought, + That this fair action may on foot be brought. + + [Exeunt. Flourish] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT II + + + PROLOGUE + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Now all the youth of England are on fire, + And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies: + Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought + Reigns solely in the breast of every man: + They sell the pasture now to buy the horse, + Following the mirror of all Christian kings, + With winged heels, as English Mercuries. + For now sits Expectation in the air, + And hides a sword from hilts unto the point + With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets, + Promised to Harry and his followers. + The French, advised by good intelligence + Of this most dreadful preparation, + Shake in their fear and with pale policy + Seek to divert the English purposes. + O England! model to thy inward greatness, + Like little body with a mighty heart, + What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, + Were all thy children kind and natural! + But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out + A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills + With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men, + One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second, + Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third, + Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland, + Have, for the gilt of France,--O guilt indeed! + Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; + And by their hands this grace of kings must die, + If hell and treason hold their promises, + Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton. + Linger your patience on; and we'll digest + The abuse of distance; force a play: + The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed; + The king is set from London; and the scene + Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton; + There is the playhouse now, there must you sit: + And thence to France shall we convey you safe, + And bring you back, charming the narrow seas + To give you gentle pass; for, if we may, + We'll not offend one stomach with our play. + But, till the king come forth, and not till then, + Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I London. A street. + + + [Enter Corporal NYM and Lieutenant BARDOLPH] + +BARDOLPH Well met, Corporal Nym. + +NYM Good morrow, Lieutenant Bardolph. + +BARDOLPH What, are Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? + +NYM For my part, I care not: I say little; but when + time shall serve, there shall be smiles; but that + shall be as it may. I dare not fight; but I will + wink and hold out mine iron: it is a simple one; but + what though? it will toast cheese, and it will + endure cold as another man's sword will: and + there's an end. + +BARDOLPH I will bestow a breakfast to make you friends; and + we'll be all three sworn brothers to France: let it + be so, good Corporal Nym. + +NYM Faith, I will live so long as I may, that's the + certain of it; and when I cannot live any longer, I + will do as I may: that is my rest, that is the + rendezvous of it. + +BARDOLPH It is certain, corporal, that he is married to Nell + Quickly: and certainly she did you wrong; for you + were troth-plight to her. + +NYM I cannot tell: things must be as they may: men may + sleep, and they may have their throats about them at + that time; and some say knives have edges. It must + be as it may: though patience be a tired mare, yet + she will plod. There must be conclusions. Well, I + cannot tell. + + [Enter PISTOL and Hostess] + +BARDOLPH Here comes Ancient Pistol and his wife: good + corporal, be patient here. How now, mine host Pistol! + +PISTOL Base tike, call'st thou me host? Now, by this hand, + I swear, I scorn the term; Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. + +Hostess No, by my troth, not long; for we cannot lodge and + board a dozen or fourteen gentlewomen that live + honestly by the prick of their needles, but it will + be thought we keep a bawdy house straight. + + [NYM and PISTOL draw] + + O well a day, Lady, if he be not drawn now! we + shall see wilful adultery and murder committed. + +BARDOLPH Good lieutenant! good corporal! offer nothing here. + +NYM Pish! + +PISTOL Pish for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of Iceland! + +Hostess Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour, and put up your sword. + +NYM Will you shog off? I would have you solus. + +PISTOL 'Solus,' egregious dog? O viper vile! + The 'solus' in thy most mervailous face; + The 'solus' in thy teeth, and in thy throat, + And in thy hateful lungs, yea, in thy maw, perdy, + And, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! + I do retort the 'solus' in thy bowels; + For I can take, and Pistol's cock is up, + And flashing fire will follow. + +NYM I am not Barbason; you cannot conjure me. I have an + humour to knock you indifferently well. If you grow + foul with me, Pistol, I will scour you with my + rapier, as I may, in fair terms: if you would walk + off, I would prick your guts a little, in good + terms, as I may: and that's the humour of it. + +PISTOL O braggart vile and damned furious wight! + The grave doth gape, and doting death is near; + Therefore exhale. + +BARDOLPH Hear me, hear me what I say: he that strikes the + first stroke, I'll run him up to the hilts, as I am a soldier. + + [Draws] + +PISTOL An oath of mickle might; and fury shall abate. + Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give: + Thy spirits are most tall. + +NYM I will cut thy throat, one time or other, in fair + terms: that is the humour of it. + +PISTOL 'Couple a gorge!' + That is the word. I thee defy again. + O hound of Crete, think'st thou my spouse to get? + No; to the spital go, + And from the powdering tub of infamy + Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind, + Doll Tearsheet she by name, and her espouse: + I have, and I will hold, the quondam Quickly + For the only she; and--pauca, there's enough. Go to. + + [Enter the Boy] + +Boy Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master, and + you, hostess: he is very sick, and would to bed. + Good Bardolph, put thy face between his sheets, and + do the office of a warming-pan. Faith, he's very ill. + +BARDOLPH Away, you rogue! + +Hostess By my troth, he'll yield the crow a pudding one of + these days. The king has killed his heart. Good + husband, come home presently. + + [Exeunt Hostess and Boy] + +BARDOLPH Come, shall I make you two friends? We must to + France together: why the devil should we keep + knives to cut one another's throats? + +PISTOL Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for food howl on! + +NYM You'll pay me the eight shillings I won of you at betting? + +PISTOL Base is the slave that pays. + +NYM That now I will have: that's the humour of it. + +PISTOL As manhood shall compound: push home. + + [They draw] + +BARDOLPH By this sword, he that makes the first thrust, I'll + kill him; by this sword, I will. + +PISTOL Sword is an oath, and oaths must have their course. + +BARDOLPH Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be friends, be friends: + an thou wilt not, why, then, be enemies with me too. + Prithee, put up. + +NYM I shall have my eight shillings I won of you at betting? + +PISTOL A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; + And liquor likewise will I give to thee, + And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: + I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me; + Is not this just? for I shall sutler be + Unto the camp, and profits will accrue. + Give me thy hand. + +NYM I shall have my noble? + +PISTOL In cash most justly paid. + +NYM Well, then, that's the humour of't. + + [Re-enter Hostess] + +Hostess As ever you came of women, come in quickly to Sir + John. Ah, poor heart! he is so shaked of a burning + quotidian tertian, that it is most lamentable to + behold. Sweet men, come to him. + +NYM The king hath run bad humours on the knight; that's + the even of it. + +PISTOL Nym, thou hast spoke the right; + His heart is fracted and corroborate. + +NYM The king is a good king: but it must be as it may; + he passes some humours and careers. + +PISTOL Let us condole the knight; for, lambkins we will live. + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Southampton. A council-chamber. + + + [Enter EXETER, BEDFORD, and WESTMORELAND] + +BEDFORD 'Fore God, his grace is bold, to trust these traitors. + +EXETER They shall be apprehended by and by. + +WESTMORELAND How smooth and even they do bear themselves! + As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, + Crowned with faith and constant loyalty. + +BEDFORD The king hath note of all that they intend, + By interception which they dream not of. + +EXETER Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, + Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious favours, + That he should, for a foreign purse, so sell + His sovereign's life to death and treachery. + + [Trumpets sound. Enter KING HENRY V, SCROOP, + CAMBRIDGE, GREY, and Attendants] + +KING HENRY V Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard. + My Lord of Cambridge, and my kind Lord of Masham, + And you, my gentle knight, give me your thoughts: + Think you not that the powers we bear with us + Will cut their passage through the force of France, + Doing the execution and the act + For which we have in head assembled them? + +SCROOP No doubt, my liege, if each man do his best. + +KING HENRY V I doubt not that; since we are well persuaded + We carry not a heart with us from hence + That grows not in a fair consent with ours, + Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish + Success and conquest to attend on us. + +CAMBRIDGE Never was monarch better fear'd and loved + Than is your majesty: there's not, I think, a subject + That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness + Under the sweet shade of your government. + +GREY True: those that were your father's enemies + Have steep'd their galls in honey and do serve you + With hearts create of duty and of zeal. + +KING HENRY V We therefore have great cause of thankfulness; + And shall forget the office of our hand, + Sooner than quittance of desert and merit + According to the weight and worthiness. + +SCROOP So service shall with steeled sinews toil, + And labour shall refresh itself with hope, + To do your grace incessant services. + +KING HENRY V We judge no less. Uncle of Exeter, + Enlarge the man committed yesterday, + That rail'd against our person: we consider + it was excess of wine that set him on; + And on his more advice we pardon him. + +SCROOP That's mercy, but too much security: + Let him be punish'd, sovereign, lest example + Breed, by his sufferance, more of such a kind. + +KING HENRY V O, let us yet be merciful. + +CAMBRIDGE So may your highness, and yet punish too. + +GREY Sir, + You show great mercy, if you give him life, + After the taste of much correction. + +KING HENRY V Alas, your too much love and care of me + Are heavy orisons 'gainst this poor wretch! + If little faults, proceeding on distemper, + Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye + When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested, + Appear before us? We'll yet enlarge that man, + Though Cambridge, Scroop and Grey, in their dear care + And tender preservation of our person, + Would have him punished. And now to our French causes: + Who are the late commissioners? + +CAMBRIDGE I one, my lord: + Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. + +SCROOP So did you me, my liege. + +GREY And I, my royal sovereign. + +KING HENRY V Then, Richard Earl of Cambridge, there is yours; + There yours, Lord Scroop of Masham; and, sir knight, + Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours: + Read them; and know, I know your worthiness. + My Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, + We will aboard to night. Why, how now, gentlemen! + What see you in those papers that you lose + So much complexion? Look ye, how they change! + Their cheeks are paper. Why, what read you there + That hath so cowarded and chased your blood + Out of appearance? + +CAMBRIDGE I do confess my fault; + And do submit me to your highness' mercy. + + +GREY | + | To which we all appeal. +SCROOP | + + +KING HENRY V The mercy that was quick in us but late, + By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd: + You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy; + For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, + As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. + See you, my princes, and my noble peers, + These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here, + You know how apt our love was to accord + To furnish him with all appertinents + Belonging to his honour; and this man + Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired, + And sworn unto the practises of France, + To kill us here in Hampton: to the which + This knight, no less for bounty bound to us + Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O, + What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel, + Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature! + Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, + That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, + That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, + Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use, + May it be possible, that foreign hire + Could out of thee extract one spark of evil + That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange, + That, though the truth of it stands off as gross + As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. + Treason and murder ever kept together, + As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose, + Working so grossly in a natural cause, + That admiration did not whoop at them: + But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in + Wonder to wait on treason and on murder: + And whatsoever cunning fiend it was + That wrought upon thee so preposterously + Hath got the voice in hell for excellence: + All other devils that suggest by treasons + Do botch and bungle up damnation + With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd + From glistering semblances of piety; + But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, + Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, + Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. + If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus + Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, + He might return to vasty Tartar back, + And tell the legions 'I can never win + A soul so easy as that Englishman's.' + O, how hast thou with 'jealousy infected + The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful? + Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned? + Why, so didst thou: come they of noble family? + Why, so didst thou: seem they religious? + Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet, + Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, + Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, + Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, + Not working with the eye without the ear, + And but in purged judgment trusting neither? + Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem: + And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, + To mark the full-fraught man and best indued + With some suspicion. I will weep for thee; + For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like + Another fall of man. Their faults are open: + Arrest them to the answer of the law; + And God acquit them of their practises! + +EXETER I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of + Richard Earl of Cambridge. + I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of + Henry Lord Scroop of Masham. + I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of + Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland. + +SCROOP Our purposes God justly hath discover'd; + And I repent my fault more than my death; + Which I beseech your highness to forgive, + Although my body pay the price of it. + +CAMBRIDGE For me, the gold of France did not seduce; + Although I did admit it as a motive + The sooner to effect what I intended: + But God be thanked for prevention; + Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice, + Beseeching God and you to pardon me. + +GREY Never did faithful subject more rejoice + At the discovery of most dangerous treason + Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself. + Prevented from a damned enterprise: + My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. + +KING HENRY V God quit you in his mercy! Hear your sentence. + You have conspired against our royal person, + Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd and from his coffers + Received the golden earnest of our death; + Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, + His princes and his peers to servitude, + His subjects to oppression and contempt + And his whole kingdom into desolation. + Touching our person seek we no revenge; + But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, + Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws + We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence, + Poor miserable wretches, to your death: + The taste whereof, God of his mercy give + You patience to endure, and true repentance + Of all your dear offences! Bear them hence. + + [Exeunt CAMBRIDGE, SCROOP and GREY, guarded] + + Now, lords, for France; the enterprise whereof + Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. + We doubt not of a fair and lucky war, + Since God so graciously hath brought to light + This dangerous treason lurking in our way + To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now + But every rub is smoothed on our way. + Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliver + Our puissance into the hand of God, + Putting it straight in expedition. + Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance: + No king of England, if not king of France. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III London. Before a tavern. + + + [Enter PISTOL, Hostess, NYM, BARDOLPH, and Boy] + +Hostess Prithee, honey-sweet husband, let me bring thee to Staines. + +PISTOL No; for my manly heart doth yearn. + Bardolph, be blithe: Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins: + Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead, + And we must yearn therefore. + +BARDOLPH Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in + heaven or in hell! + +Hostess Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's + bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. A' made + a finer end and went away an it had been any + christom child; a' parted even just between twelve + and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after + I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with + flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew + there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as + a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. 'How now, + sir John!' quoth I 'what, man! be o' good + cheer.' So a' cried out 'God, God, God!' three or + four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' + should not think of God; I hoped there was no need + to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So + a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my + hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as + cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and + they were as cold as any stone, and so upward and + upward, and all was as cold as any stone. + +NYM They say he cried out of sack. + +Hostess Ay, that a' did. + +BARDOLPH And of women. + +Hostess Nay, that a' did not. + +Boy Yes, that a' did; and said they were devils + incarnate. + +Hostess A' could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he + never liked. + +Boy A' said once, the devil would have him about women. + +Hostess A' did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then + he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon. + +Boy Do you not remember, a' saw a flea stick upon + Bardolph's nose, and a' said it was a black soul + burning in hell-fire? + +BARDOLPH Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: + that's all the riches I got in his service. + +NYM Shall we shog? the king will be gone from + Southampton. + +PISTOL Come, let's away. My love, give me thy lips. + Look to my chattels and my movables: + Let senses rule; the word is 'Pitch and Pay:' + Trust none; + For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, + And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck: + Therefore, Caveto be thy counsellor. + Go, clear thy crystals. Yoke-fellows in arms, + Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, + To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! + +Boy And that's but unwholesome food they say. + +PISTOL Touch her soft mouth, and march. + +BARDOLPH Farewell, hostess. + + [Kissing her] + +NYM I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it; but, adieu. + +PISTOL Let housewifery appear: keep close, I thee command. + +Hostess Farewell; adieu. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV France. The KING'S palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter the FRENCH KING, the DAUPHIN, the + DUKES of BERRI and BRETAGNE, the Constable, and others] + +KING OF FRANCE Thus comes the English with full power upon us; + And more than carefully it us concerns + To answer royally in our defences. + Therefore the Dukes of Berri and of Bretagne, + Of Brabant and of Orleans, shall make forth, + And you, Prince Dauphin, with all swift dispatch, + To line and new repair our towns of war + With men of courage and with means defendant; + For England his approaches makes as fierce + As waters to the sucking of a gulf. + It fits us then to be as provident + As fear may teach us out of late examples + Left by the fatal and neglected English + Upon our fields. + +DAUPHIN My most redoubted father, + It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe; + For peace itself should not so dull a kingdom, + Though war nor no known quarrel were in question, + But that defences, musters, preparations, + Should be maintain'd, assembled and collected, + As were a war in expectation. + Therefore, I say 'tis meet we all go forth + To view the sick and feeble parts of France: + And let us do it with no show of fear; + No, with no more than if we heard that England + Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: + For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd, + Her sceptre so fantastically borne + By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth, + That fear attends her not. + +Constable O peace, Prince Dauphin! + You are too much mistaken in this king: + Question your grace the late ambassadors, + With what great state he heard their embassy, + How well supplied with noble counsellors, + How modest in exception, and withal + How terrible in constant resolution, + And you shall find his vanities forespent + Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, + Covering discretion with a coat of folly; + As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots + That shall first spring and be most delicate. + +DAUPHIN Well, 'tis not so, my lord high constable; + But though we think it so, it is no matter: + In cases of defence 'tis best to weigh + The enemy more mighty than he seems: + So the proportions of defence are fill'd; + Which of a weak or niggardly projection + Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting + A little cloth. + +KING OF FRANCE Think we King Harry strong; + And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him. + The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us; + And he is bred out of that bloody strain + That haunted us in our familiar paths: + Witness our too much memorable shame + When Cressy battle fatally was struck, + And all our princes captiv'd by the hand + Of that black name, Edward, Black Prince of Wales; + Whiles that his mountain sire, on mountain standing, + Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, + Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him, + Mangle the work of nature and deface + The patterns that by God and by French fathers + Had twenty years been made. This is a stem + Of that victorious stock; and let us fear + The native mightiness and fate of him. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Ambassadors from Harry King of England + Do crave admittance to your majesty. + +KING OF FRANCE We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them. + + [Exeunt Messenger and certain Lords] + + You see this chase is hotly follow'd, friends. + +DAUPHIN Turn head, and stop pursuit; for coward dogs + Most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten + Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, + Take up the English short, and let them know + Of what a monarchy you are the head: + Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin + As self-neglecting. + + [Re-enter Lords, with EXETER and train] + +KING OF FRANCE From our brother England? + +EXETER From him; and thus he greets your majesty. + He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, + That you divest yourself, and lay apart + The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven, + By law of nature and of nations, 'long + To him and to his heirs; namely, the crown + And all wide-stretched honours that pertain + By custom and the ordinance of times + Unto the crown of France. That you may know + 'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, + Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, + Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, + He sends you this most memorable line, + In every branch truly demonstrative; + Willing to overlook this pedigree: + And when you find him evenly derived + From his most famed of famous ancestors, + Edward the Third, he bids you then resign + Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held + From him the native and true challenger. + +KING OF FRANCE Or else what follows? + +EXETER Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown + Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: + Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, + In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, + That, if requiring fail, he will compel; + And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, + Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy + On the poor souls for whom this hungry war + Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head + Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries + The dead men's blood, the pining maidens groans, + For husbands, fathers and betrothed lovers, + That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. + This is his claim, his threatening and my message; + Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, + To whom expressly I bring greeting too. + +KING OF FRANCE For us, we will consider of this further: + To-morrow shall you bear our full intent + Back to our brother England. + +DAUPHIN For the Dauphin, + I stand here for him: what to him from England? + +EXETER Scorn and defiance; slight regard, contempt, + And any thing that may not misbecome + The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. + Thus says my king; an' if your father's highness + Do not, in grant of all demands at large, + Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, + He'll call you to so hot an answer of it, + That caves and womby vaultages of France + Shall chide your trespass and return your mock + In second accent of his ordnance. + +DAUPHIN Say, if my father render fair return, + It is against my will; for I desire + Nothing but odds with England: to that end, + As matching to his youth and vanity, + I did present him with the Paris balls. + +EXETER He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, + Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe: + And, be assured, you'll find a difference, + As we his subjects have in wonder found, + Between the promise of his greener days + And these he masters now: now he weighs time + Even to the utmost grain: that you shall read + In your own losses, if he stay in France. + +KING OF FRANCE To-morrow shall you know our mind at full. + +EXETER Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our king + Come here himself to question our delay; + For he is footed in this land already. + +KING OF FRANCE You shall be soon dispatch's with fair conditions: + A night is but small breath and little pause + To answer matters of this consequence. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + PROLOGUE. + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies + In motion of no less celerity + Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen + The well-appointed king at Hampton pier + Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet + With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning: + Play with your fancies, and in them behold + Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing; + Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give + To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails, + Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, + Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, + Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think + You stand upon the ravage and behold + A city on the inconstant billows dancing; + For so appears this fleet majestical, + Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow: + Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, + And leave your England, as dead midnight still, + Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women, + Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance; + For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd + With one appearing hair, that will not follow + These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France? + Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege; + Behold the ordnance on their carriages, + With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. + Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back; + Tells Harry that the king doth offer him + Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry, + Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. + The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner + With linstock now the devilish cannon touches, + + [Alarum, and chambers go off] + + And down goes all before them. Still be kind, + And eke out our performance with your mind. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I France. Before Harfleur. + + + [Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, + GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders] + +KING HENRY V Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; + Or close the wall up with our English dead. + In peace there's nothing so becomes a man + As modest stillness and humility: + But when the blast of war blows in our ears, + Then imitate the action of the tiger; + Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, + Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; + Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; + Let pry through the portage of the head + Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it + As fearfully as doth a galled rock + O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, + Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. + Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, + Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit + To his full height. On, on, you noblest English. + Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! + Fathers that, like so many Alexanders, + Have in these parts from morn till even fought + And sheathed their swords for lack of argument: + Dishonour not your mothers; now attest + That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. + Be copy now to men of grosser blood, + And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman, + Whose limbs were made in England, show us here + The mettle of your pasture; let us swear + That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; + For there is none of you so mean and base, + That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. + I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, + Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: + Follow your spirit, and upon this charge + Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' + + [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy] + +BARDOLPH On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! + +NYM Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too hot; + and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: + the humour of it is too hot, that is the very + plain-song of it. + +PISTOL The plain-song is most just: for humours do abound: + Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die; + And sword and shield, + In bloody field, + Doth win immortal fame. + +Boy Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give + all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. + +PISTOL And I: + If wishes would prevail with me, + My purpose should not fail with me, + But thither would I hie. + +Boy As duly, but not as truly, + As bird doth sing on bough. + + [Enter FLUELLEN] + +FLUELLEN Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions! + + [Driving them forward] + +PISTOL Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould. + Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage, + Abate thy rage, great duke! + Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck! + +NYM These be good humours! your honour wins bad humours. + + [Exeunt all but Boy] + +Boy As young as I am, I have observed these three + swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they + three, though they would serve me, could not be man + to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to + a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and + red-faced; by the means whereof a' faces it out, but + fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue + and a quiet sword; by the means whereof a' breaks + words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath + heard that men of few words are the best men; and + therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest a' + should be thought a coward: but his few bad words + are matched with as few good deeds; for a' never + broke any man's head but his own, and that was + against a post when he was drunk. They will steal + any thing, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a + lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for + three half pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn + brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a + fire-shovel: I knew by that piece of service the + men would carry coals. They would have me as + familiar with men's pockets as their gloves or their + handkerchers: which makes much against my manhood, + if I should take from another's pocket to put into + mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I + must leave them, and seek some better service: + their villany goes against my weak stomach, and + therefore I must cast it up. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following] + +GOWER Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the + mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you. + +FLUELLEN To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so good + to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is + not according to the disciplines of the war: the + concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, + the athversary, you may discuss unto the duke, look + you, is digt himself four yard under the + countermines: by Cheshu, I think a' will plough up + all, if there is not better directions. + +GOWER The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the + siege is given, is altogether directed by an + Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i' faith. + +FLUELLEN It is Captain Macmorris, is it not? + +GOWER I think it be. + +FLUELLEN By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will + verify as much in his beard: be has no more + directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look + you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog. + + [Enter MACMORRIS and Captain JAMY] + +GOWER Here a' comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him. + +FLUELLEN Captain Jamy is a marvellous falourous gentleman, + that is certain; and of great expedition and + knowledge in th' aunchient wars, upon my particular + knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will + maintain his argument as well as any military man in + the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars + of the Romans. + +JAMY I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen. + +FLUELLEN God-den to your worship, good Captain James. + +GOWER How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the + mines? have the pioneers given o'er? + +MACMORRIS By Chrish, la! tish ill done: the work ish give + over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand, I + swear, and my father's soul, the work ish ill done; + it ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so + Chrish save me, la! in an hour: O, tish ill done, + tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done! + +FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you + voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, + as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of + the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, + look you, and friendly communication; partly to + satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, + look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of + the military discipline; that is the point. + +JAMY It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath: + and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick + occasion; that sall I, marry. + +MACMORRIS It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me: the + day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the + king, and the dukes: it is no time to discourse. The + town is beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the + breach; and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing: + 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' me, 'tis shame to + stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is + throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there + ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la! + +JAMY By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves + to slomber, ay'll de gud service, or ay'll lig i' + the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and ay'll pay + 't as valourously as I may, that sall I suerly do, + that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full + fain hear some question 'tween you tway. + +FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your + correction, there is not many of your nation-- + +MACMORRIS Of my nation! What ish my nation? Ish a villain, + and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish + my nation? Who talks of my nation? + +FLUELLEN Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is + meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think + you do not use me with that affability as in + discretion you ought to use me, look you: being as + good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of + war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in + other particularities. + +MACMORRIS I do not know you so good a man as myself: so + Chrish save me, I will cut off your head. + +GOWER Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. + +JAMY A! that's a foul fault. + + [A parley sounded] + +GOWER The town sounds a parley. + +FLUELLEN Captain Macmorris, when there is more better + opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so + bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war; + and there is an end. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The same. Before the gates. + + + [The Governor and some Citizens on the walls; the + English forces below. Enter KING HENRY and his train] + +KING HENRY V How yet resolves the governor of the town? + This is the latest parle we will admit; + Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves; + Or like to men proud of destruction + Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, + A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, + If I begin the battery once again, + I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur + Till in her ashes she lie buried. + The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, + And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, + In liberty of bloody hand shall range + With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass + Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants. + What is it then to me, if impious war, + Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, + Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats + Enlink'd to waste and desolation? + What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, + If your pure maidens fall into the hand + Of hot and forcing violation? + What rein can hold licentious wickedness + When down the hill he holds his fierce career? + We may as bootless spend our vain command + Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil + As send precepts to the leviathan + To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, + Take pity of your town and of your people, + Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; + Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace + O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds + Of heady murder, spoil and villany. + If not, why, in a moment look to see + The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand + Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; + Your fathers taken by the silver beards, + And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls, + Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, + Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused + Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry + At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. + What say you? will you yield, and this avoid, + Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? + +GOVERNOR Our expectation hath this day an end: + The Dauphin, whom of succors we entreated, + Returns us that his powers are yet not ready + To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great king, + We yield our town and lives to thy soft mercy. + Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; + For we no longer are defensible. + +KING HENRY V Open your gates. Come, uncle Exeter, + Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain, + And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French: + Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle, + The winter coming on and sickness growing + Upon our soldiers, we will retire to Calais. + To-night in Harfleur we will be your guest; + To-morrow for the march are we addrest. + + [Flourish. The King and his train enter the town] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The FRENCH KING's palace. + + + [Enter KATHARINE and ALICE] + +KATHARINE Alice, tu as ete en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage. + +ALICE Un peu, madame. + +KATHARINE Je te prie, m'enseignez: il faut que j'apprenne a + parler. Comment appelez-vous la main en Anglois? + +ALICE La main? elle est appelee de hand. + +KATHARINE De hand. Et les doigts? + +ALICE Les doigts? ma foi, j'oublie les doigts; mais je me + souviendrai. Les doigts? je pense qu'ils sont + appeles de fingres; oui, de fingres. + +KATHARINE La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense + que je suis le bon ecolier; j'ai gagne deux mots + d'Anglois vitement. Comment appelez-vous les ongles? + +ALICE Les ongles? nous les appelons de nails. + +KATHARINE De nails. Ecoutez; dites-moi, si je parle bien: de + hand, de fingres, et de nails. + +ALICE C'est bien dit, madame; il est fort bon Anglois. + +KATHARINE Dites-moi l'Anglois pour le bras. + +ALICE De arm, madame. + +KATHARINE Et le coude? + +ALICE De elbow. + +KATHARINE De elbow. Je m'en fais la repetition de tous les + mots que vous m'avez appris des a present. + +ALICE Il est trop difficile, madame, comme je pense. + +KATHARINE Excusez-moi, Alice; ecoutez: de hand, de fingres, + de nails, de arma, de bilbow. + +ALICE De elbow, madame. + +KATHARINE O Seigneur Dieu, je m'en oublie! de elbow. Comment + appelez-vous le col? + +ALICE De neck, madame. + +KATHARINE De nick. Et le menton? + +ALICE De chin. + +KATHARINE De sin. Le col, de nick; de menton, de sin. + +ALICE Oui. Sauf votre honneur, en verite, vous prononcez + les mots aussi droit que les natifs d'Angleterre. + +KATHARINE Je ne doute point d'apprendre, par la grace de Dieu, + et en peu de temps. + +ALICE N'avez vous pas deja oublie ce que je vous ai enseigne? + +KATHARINE Non, je reciterai a vous promptement: de hand, de + fingres, de mails-- + +ALICE De nails, madame. + +KATHARINE De nails, de arm, de ilbow. + +ALICE Sauf votre honneur, de elbow. + +KATHARINE Ainsi dis-je; de elbow, de nick, et de sin. Comment + appelez-vous le pied et la robe? + +ALICE De foot, madame; et de coun. + +KATHARINE De foot et de coun! O Seigneur Dieu! ce sont mots + de son mauvais, corruptible, gros, et impudique, et + non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: je ne voudrais + prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France + pour tout le monde. Foh! le foot et le coun! + Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon + ensemble: de hand, de fingres, de nails, de arm, de + elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun. + +ALICE Excellent, madame! + +KATHARINE C'est assez pour une fois: allons-nous a diner. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V The same. + + + [Enter the KING OF FRANCE, the DAUPHIN, the DUKE oF + BOURBON, the Constable Of France, and others] + +KING OF FRANCE 'Tis certain he hath pass'd the river Somme. + +Constable And if he be not fought withal, my lord, + Let us not live in France; let us quit all + And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. + +DAUPHIN O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us, + The emptying of our fathers' luxury, + Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, + Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds, + And overlook their grafters? + +BOURBON Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards! + Mort de ma vie! if they march along + Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom, + To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm + In that nook-shotten isle of Albion. + +Constable Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle? + Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull, + On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, + Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, + A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, + Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? + And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, + Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land, + Let us not hang like roping icicles + Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people + Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields! + Poor we may call them in their native lords. + +DAUPHIN By faith and honour, + Our madams mock at us, and plainly say + Our mettle is bred out and they will give + Their bodies to the lust of English youth + To new-store France with bastard warriors. + +BOURBON They bid us to the English dancing-schools, + And teach lavoltas high and swift corantos; + Saying our grace is only in our heels, + And that we are most lofty runaways. + +KING OF FRANCE Where is Montjoy the herald? speed him hence: + Let him greet England with our sharp defiance. + Up, princes! and, with spirit of honour edged + More sharper than your swords, hie to the field: + Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; + You Dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berri, + Alencon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy; + Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, Vaudemont, + Beaumont, Grandpre, Roussi, and Fauconberg, + Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois; + High dukes, great princes, barons, lords and knights, + For your great seats now quit you of great shames. + Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land + With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur: + Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow + Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat + The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: + Go down upon him, you have power enough, + And in a captive chariot into Rouen + Bring him our prisoner. + +Constable This becomes the great. + Sorry am I his numbers are so few, + His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march, + For I am sure, when he shall see our army, + He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear + And for achievement offer us his ransom. + +KING OF FRANCE Therefore, lord constable, haste on Montjoy. + And let him say to England that we send + To know what willing ransom he will give. + Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. + +DAUPHIN Not so, I do beseech your majesty. + +KING OF FRANCE Be patient, for you shall remain with us. + Now forth, lord constable and princes all, + And quickly bring us word of England's fall. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI The English camp in Picardy. + + + [Enter GOWER and FLUELLEN, meeting] + +GOWER How now, Captain Fluellen! come you from the bridge? + +FLUELLEN I assure you, there is very excellent services + committed at the bridge. + +GOWER Is the Duke of Exeter safe? + +FLUELLEN The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; + and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my + heart, and my duty, and my life, and my living, and + my uttermost power: he is not-God be praised and + blessed!--any hurt in the world; but keeps the + bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. + There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the + pridge, I think in my very conscience he is as + valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no + estimation in the world; but did see him do as + gallant service. + +GOWER What do you call him? + +FLUELLEN He is called Aunchient Pistol. + +GOWER I know him not. + + [Enter PISTOL] + +FLUELLEN Here is the man. + +PISTOL Captain, I thee beseech to do me favours: + The Duke of Exeter doth love thee well. + +FLUELLEN Ay, I praise God; and I have merited some love at + his hands. + +PISTOL Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound of heart, + And of buxom valour, hath, by cruel fate, + And giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel, + That goddess blind, + That stands upon the rolling restless stone-- + +FLUELLEN By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Fortune is + painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to + signify to you that Fortune is blind; and she is + painted also with a wheel, to signify to you, which + is the moral of it, that she is turning, and + inconstant, and mutability, and variation: and her + foot, look you, is fixed upon a spherical stone, + which rolls, and rolls, and rolls: in good truth, + the poet makes a most excellent description of it: + Fortune is an excellent moral. + +PISTOL Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns on him; + For he hath stolen a pax, and hanged must a' be: + A damned death! + Let gallows gape for dog; let man go free + And let not hemp his wind-pipe suffocate: + But Exeter hath given the doom of death + For pax of little price. + Therefore, go speak: the duke will hear thy voice: + And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut + With edge of penny cord and vile reproach: + Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee requite. + +FLUELLEN Aunchient Pistol, I do partly understand your meaning. + +PISTOL Why then, rejoice therefore. + +FLUELLEN Certainly, aunchient, it is not a thing to rejoice + at: for if, look you, he were my brother, I would + desire the duke to use his good pleasure, and put + him to execution; for discipline ought to be used. + +PISTOL Die and be damn'd! and figo for thy friendship! + +FLUELLEN It is well. + +PISTOL The fig of Spain! + + [Exit] + +FLUELLEN Very good. + +GOWER Why, this is an arrant counterfeit rascal; I + remember him now; a bawd, a cutpurse. + +FLUELLEN I'll assure you, a' uttered as brave words at the + bridge as you shall see in a summer's day. But it + is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, + I warrant you, when time is serve. + +GOWER Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue, that now and then + goes to the wars, to grace himself at his return + into London under the form of a soldier. And such + fellows are perfect in the great commanders' names: + and they will learn you by rote where services were + done; at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, + at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was + shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on; + and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, + which they trick up with new-tuned oaths: and what + a beard of the general's cut and a horrid suit of + the camp will do among foaming bottles and + ale-washed wits, is wonderful to be thought on. But + you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or + else you may be marvellously mistook. + +FLUELLEN I tell you what, Captain Gower; I do perceive he is + not the man that he would gladly make show to the + world he is: if I find a hole in his coat, I will + tell him my mind. + + [Drum heard] + + Hark you, the king is coming, and I must speak with + him from the pridge. + + [Drum and colours. Enter KING HENRY, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers] + + God pless your majesty! + +KING HENRY V How now, Fluellen! camest thou from the bridge? + +FLUELLEN Ay, so please your majesty. The Duke of Exeter has + very gallantly maintained the pridge: the French is + gone off, look you; and there is gallant and most + prave passages; marry, th' athversary was have + possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to + retire, and the Duke of Exeter is master of the + pridge: I can tell your majesty, the duke is a + prave man. + +KING HENRY V What men have you lost, Fluellen? + +FLUELLEN The perdition of th' athversary hath been very + great, reasonable great: marry, for my part, I + think the duke hath lost never a man, but one that + is like to be executed for robbing a church, one + Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his face is + all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames o' + fire: and his lips blows at his nose, and it is like + a coal of fire, sometimes plue and sometimes red; + but his nose is executed and his fire's out. + +KING HENRY V We would have all such offenders so cut off: and we + give express charge, that in our marches through the + country, there be nothing compelled from the + villages, nothing taken but paid for, none of the + French upbraided or abused in disdainful language; + for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the + gentler gamester is the soonest winner. + + [Tucket. Enter MONTJOY] + +MONTJOY You know me by my habit. + +KING HENRY V Well then I know thee: what shall I know of thee? + +MONTJOY My master's mind. + +KING HENRY V Unfold it. + +MONTJOY Thus says my king: Say thou to Harry of England: + Though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: advantage + is a better soldier than rashness. Tell him we + could have rebuked him at Harfleur, but that we + thought not good to bruise an injury till it were + full ripe: now we speak upon our cue, and our voice + is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see + his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him + therefore consider of his ransom; which must + proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we + have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which in + weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. + For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the + effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too + faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own + person, kneeling at our feet, but a weak and + worthless satisfaction. To this add defiance: and + tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his + followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far + my king and master; so much my office. + +KING HENRY V What is thy name? I know thy quality. + +MONTJOY Montjoy. + +KING HENRY V Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back. + And tell thy king I do not seek him now; + But could be willing to march on to Calais + Without impeachment: for, to say the sooth, + Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much + Unto an enemy of craft and vantage, + My people are with sickness much enfeebled, + My numbers lessened, and those few I have + Almost no better than so many French; + Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, + I thought upon one pair of English legs + Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God, + That I do brag thus! This your air of France + Hath blown that vice in me: I must repent. + Go therefore, tell thy master here I am; + My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk, + My army but a weak and sickly guard; + Yet, God before, tell him we will come on, + Though France himself and such another neighbour + Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. + Go bid thy master well advise himself: + If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd, + We shall your tawny ground with your red blood + Discolour: and so Montjoy, fare you well. + The sum of all our answer is but this: + We would not seek a battle, as we are; + Nor, as we are, we say we will not shun it: + So tell your master. + +MONTJOY I shall deliver so. Thanks to your highness. + + [Exit] + +GLOUCESTER I hope they will not come upon us now. + +KING HENRY V We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs. + March to the bridge; it now draws toward night: + Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves, + And on to-morrow, bid them march away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII The French camp, near Agincourt: + + + [Enter the Constable of France, the LORD RAMBURES, + ORLEANS, DAUPHIN, with others] + +Constable Tut! I have the best armour of the world. Would it were day! + +ORLEANS You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due. + +Constable It is the best horse of Europe. + +ORLEANS Will it never be morning? + +DAUPHIN My lord of Orleans, and my lord high constable, you + talk of horse and armour? + +ORLEANS You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world. + +DAUPHIN What a long night is this! I will not change my + horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. + Ca, ha! he bounds from the earth, as if his + entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, + chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I + soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth + sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his + hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. + +ORLEANS He's of the colour of the nutmeg. + +DAUPHIN And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for + Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and the dull + elements of earth and water never appear in him, but + only in Patient stillness while his rider mounts + him: he is indeed a horse; and all other jades you + may call beasts. + +Constable Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse. + +DAUPHIN It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the + bidding of a monarch and his countenance enforces homage. + +ORLEANS No more, cousin. + +DAUPHIN Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the + rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary + deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme as + fluent as the sea: turn the sands into eloquent + tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: + 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for + a sovereign's sovereign to ride on; and for the + world, familiar to us and unknown to lay apart + their particular functions and wonder at him. I + once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus: + 'Wonder of nature,'-- + +ORLEANS I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress. + +DAUPHIN Then did they imitate that which I composed to my + courser, for my horse is my mistress. + +ORLEANS Your mistress bears well. + +DAUPHIN Me well; which is the prescript praise and + perfection of a good and particular mistress. + +Constable Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly + shook your back. + +DAUPHIN So perhaps did yours. + +Constable Mine was not bridled. + +DAUPHIN O then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode, + like a kern of Ireland, your French hose off, and in + your straight strossers. + +Constable You have good judgment in horsemanship. + +DAUPHIN Be warned by me, then: they that ride so and ride + not warily, fall into foul bogs. I had rather have + my horse to my mistress. + +Constable I had as lief have my mistress a jade. + +DAUPHIN I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears his own hair. + +Constable I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow + to my mistress. + +DAUPHIN 'Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et + la truie lavee au bourbier;' thou makest use of any thing. + +Constable Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any + such proverb so little kin to the purpose. + +RAMBURES My lord constable, the armour that I saw in your tent + to-night, are those stars or suns upon it? + +Constable Stars, my lord. + +DAUPHIN Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope. + +Constable And yet my sky shall not want. + +DAUPHIN That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and + 'twere more honour some were away. + +Constable Even as your horse bears your praises; who would + trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted. + +DAUPHIN Would I were able to load him with his desert! Will + it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and + my way shall be paved with English faces. + +Constable I will not say so, for fear I should be faced out of + my way: but I would it were morning; for I would + fain be about the ears of the English. + +RAMBURES Who will go to hazard with me for twenty prisoners? + +Constable You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you have them. + +DAUPHIN 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. + + [Exit] + +ORLEANS The Dauphin longs for morning. + +RAMBURES He longs to eat the English. + +Constable I think he will eat all he kills. + +ORLEANS By the white hand of my lady, he's a gallant prince. + +Constable Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath. + +ORLEANS He is simply the most active gentleman of France. + +Constable Doing is activity; and he will still be doing. + +ORLEANS He never did harm, that I heard of. + +Constable Nor will do none to-morrow: he will keep that good name still. + +ORLEANS I know him to be valiant. + +Constable I was told that by one that knows him better than + you. + +ORLEANS What's he? + +Constable Marry, he told me so himself; and he said he cared + not who knew it + +ORLEANS He needs not; it is no hidden virtue in him. + +Constable By my faith, sir, but it is; never any body saw it + but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour; and when it + appears, it will bate. + +ORLEANS Ill will never said well. + +Constable I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship.' + +ORLEANS And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.' + +Constable Well placed: there stands your friend for the + devil: have at the very eye of that proverb with 'A + pox of the devil.' + +ORLEANS You are the better at proverbs, by how much 'A + fool's bolt is soon shot.' + +Constable You have shot over. + +ORLEANS 'Tis not the first time you were overshot. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord high constable, the English lie within + fifteen hundred paces of your tents. + +Constable Who hath measured the ground? + +Messenger The Lord Grandpre. + +Constable A valiant and most expert gentleman. Would it were + day! Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for + the dawning as we do. + +ORLEANS What a wretched and peevish fellow is this king of + England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so + far out of his knowledge! + +Constable If the English had any apprehension, they would run away. + +ORLEANS That they lack; for if their heads had any + intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy + head-pieces. + +RAMBURES That island of England breeds very valiant + creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage. + +ORLEANS Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a + Russian bear and have their heads crushed like + rotten apples! You may as well say, that's a + valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. + +Constable Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the + mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving + their wits with their wives: and then give them + great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will + eat like wolves and fight like devils. + +ORLEANS Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef. + +Constable Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs + to eat and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: + come, shall we about it? + +ORLEANS It is now two o'clock: but, let me see, by ten + We shall have each a hundred Englishmen. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + PROLOGUE. + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Now entertain conjecture of a time + When creeping murmur and the poring dark + Fills the wide vessel of the universe. + From camp to camp through the foul womb of night + The hum of either army stilly sounds, + That the fixed sentinels almost receive + The secret whispers of each other's watch: + Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames + Each battle sees the other's umber'd face; + Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs + Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents + The armourers, accomplishing the knights, + With busy hammers closing rivets up, + Give dreadful note of preparation: + The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, + And the third hour of drowsy morning name. + Proud of their numbers and secure in soul, + The confident and over-lusty French + Do the low-rated English play at dice; + And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night + Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp + So tediously away. The poor condemned English, + Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires + Sit patiently and inly ruminate + The morning's danger, and their gesture sad + Investing lank-lean; cheeks and war-worn coats + Presenteth them unto the gazing moon + So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold + The royal captain of this ruin'd band + Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, + Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his head!' + For forth he goes and visits all his host. + Bids them good morrow with a modest smile + And calls them brothers, friends and countrymen. + Upon his royal face there is no note + How dread an army hath enrounded him; + Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour + Unto the weary and all-watched night, + But freshly looks and over-bears attaint + With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; + That every wretch, pining and pale before, + Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: + A largess universal like the sun + His liberal eye doth give to every one, + Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all, + Behold, as may unworthiness define, + A little touch of Harry in the night. + And so our scene must to the battle fly; + Where--O for pity!--we shall much disgrace + With four or five most vile and ragged foils, + Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous, + The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see, + Minding true things by what their mockeries be. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The English camp at Agincourt. + + + [Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, and GLOUCESTER] + +KING HENRY V Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger; + The greater therefore should our courage be. + Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty! + There is some soul of goodness in things evil, + Would men observingly distil it out. + For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, + Which is both healthful and good husbandry: + Besides, they are our outward consciences, + And preachers to us all, admonishing + That we should dress us fairly for our end. + Thus may we gather honey from the weed, + And make a moral of the devil himself. + + [Enter ERPINGHAM] + + Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham: + A good soft pillow for that good white head + Were better than a churlish turf of France. + +ERPINGHAM Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better, + Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king.' + +KING HENRY V 'Tis good for men to love their present pains + Upon example; so the spirit is eased: + And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt, + The organs, though defunct and dead before, + Break up their drowsy grave and newly move, + With casted slough and fresh legerity. + Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, + Commend me to the princes in our camp; + Do my good morrow to them, and anon + Desire them an to my pavilion. + +GLOUCESTER We shall, my liege. + +ERPINGHAM Shall I attend your grace? + +KING HENRY V No, my good knight; + Go with my brothers to my lords of England: + I and my bosom must debate awhile, + And then I would no other company. + +ERPINGHAM The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry! + + [Exeunt all but KING HENRY] + +KING HENRY V God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully. + + [Enter PISTOL] + +PISTOL Qui va la? + +KING HENRY V A friend. + +PISTOL Discuss unto me; art thou officer? + Or art thou base, common and popular? + +KING HENRY V I am a gentleman of a company. + +PISTOL Trail'st thou the puissant pike? + +KING HENRY V Even so. What are you? + +PISTOL As good a gentleman as the emperor. + +KING HENRY V Then you are a better than the king. + +PISTOL The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold, + A lad of life, an imp of fame; + Of parents good, of fist most valiant. + I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-string + I love the lovely bully. What is thy name? + +KING HENRY V Harry le Roy. + +PISTOL Le Roy! a Cornish name: art thou of Cornish crew? + +KING HENRY V No, I am a Welshman. + +PISTOL Know'st thou Fluellen? + +KING HENRY V Yes. + +PISTOL Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate + Upon Saint Davy's day. + +KING HENRY V Do not you wear your dagger in your cap that day, + lest he knock that about yours. + +PISTOL Art thou his friend? + +KING HENRY V And his kinsman too. + +PISTOL The figo for thee, then! + +KING HENRY V I thank you: God be with you! + +PISTOL My name is Pistol call'd. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY V It sorts well with your fierceness. + + [Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER] + +GOWER Captain Fluellen! + +FLUELLEN So! in the name of Jesu Christ, speak lower. It is + the greatest admiration of the universal world, when + the true and aunchient prerogatifes and laws of the + wars is not kept: if you would take the pains but to + examine the wars of Pompey the Great, you shall + find, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle toddle + nor pibble pabble in Pompey's camp; I warrant you, + you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, and the + cares of it, and the forms of it, and the sobriety + of it, and the modesty of it, to be otherwise. + +GOWER Why, the enemy is loud; you hear him all night. + +FLUELLEN If the enemy is an ass and a fool and a prating + coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that we should also, + look you, be an ass and a fool and a prating + coxcomb? in your own conscience, now? + +GOWER I will speak lower. + +FLUELLEN I pray you and beseech you that you will. + + [Exeunt GOWER and FLUELLEN] + +KING HENRY V Though it appear a little out of fashion, + There is much care and valour in this Welshman. + + [Enter three soldiers, JOHN BATES, ALEXANDER COURT, + and MICHAEL WILLIAMS] + +COURT Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which + breaks yonder? + +BATES I think it be: but we have no great cause to desire + the approach of day. + +WILLIAMS We see yonder the beginning of the day, but I think + we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there? + +KING HENRY V A friend. + +WILLIAMS Under what captain serve you? + +KING HENRY V Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. + +WILLIAMS A good old commander and a most kind gentleman: I + pray you, what thinks he of our estate? + +KING HENRY V Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be + washed off the next tide. + +BATES He hath not told his thought to the king? + +KING HENRY V No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I + speak it to you, I think the king is but a man, as I + am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me: the + element shows to him as it doth to me; all his + senses have but human conditions: his ceremonies + laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and + though his affections are higher mounted than ours, + yet, when they stoop, they stoop with the like + wing. Therefore when he sees reason of fears, as we + do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish + as ours are: yet, in reason, no man should possess + him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing + it, should dishearten his army. + +BATES He may show what outward courage he will; but I + believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish + himself in Thames up to the neck; and so I would he + were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here. + +KING HENRY V By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the king: + I think he would not wish himself any where but + where he is. + +BATES Then I would he were here alone; so should he be + sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved. + +KING HENRY V I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him here + alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's + minds: methinks I could not die any where so + contented as in the king's company; his cause being + just and his quarrel honourable. + +WILLIAMS That's more than we know. + +BATES Ay, or more than we should seek after; for we know + enough, if we know we are the kings subjects: if + his cause be wrong, our obedience to the king wipes + the crime of it out of us. + +WILLIAMS But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath + a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and + arms and heads, chopped off in battle, shall join + together at the latter day and cry all 'We died at + such a place;' some swearing, some crying for a + surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind + them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their + children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die + well that die in a battle; for how can they + charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their + argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it + will be a black matter for the king that led them to + it; whom to disobey were against all proportion of + subjection. + +KING HENRY V So, if a son that is by his father sent about + merchandise do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the + imputation of his wickedness by your rule, should be + imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a + servant, under his master's command transporting a + sum of money, be assailed by robbers and die in + many irreconciled iniquities, you may call the + business of the master the author of the servant's + damnation: but this is not so: the king is not + bound to answer the particular endings of his + soldiers, the father of his son, nor the master of + his servant; for they purpose not their death, when + they purpose their services. Besides, there is no + king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to + the arbitrement of swords, can try it out with all + unspotted soldiers: some peradventure have on them + the guilt of premeditated and contrived murder; + some, of beguiling virgins with the broken seals of + perjury; some, making the wars their bulwark, that + have before gored the gentle bosom of peace with + pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have + defeated the law and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to + fly from God: war is his beadle, war is vengeance; + so that here men are punished for before-breach of + the king's laws in now the king's quarrel: where + they feared the death, they have borne life away; + and where they would be safe, they perish: then if + they die unprovided, no more is the king guilty of + their damnation than he was before guilty of those + impieties for the which they are now visited. Every + subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's + soul is his own. Therefore should every soldier in + the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every + mote out of his conscience: and dying so, death + is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was + blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained: + and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think + that, making God so free an offer, He let him + outlive that day to see His greatness and to teach + others how they should prepare. + +WILLIAMS 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon + his own head, the king is not to answer it. + +BATES But I do not desire he should answer for me; and + yet I determine to fight lustily for him. + +KING HENRY V I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed. + +WILLIAMS Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but + when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we + ne'er the wiser. + +KING HENRY V If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after. + +WILLIAMS You pay him then. That's a perilous shot out of an + elder-gun, that a poor and private displeasure can + do against a monarch! you may as well go about to + turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a + peacock's feather. You'll never trust his word + after! come, 'tis a foolish saying. + +KING HENRY V Your reproof is something too round: I should be + angry with you, if the time were convenient. + +WILLIAMS Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live. + +KING HENRY V I embrace it. + +WILLIAMS How shall I know thee again? + +KING HENRY V Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my + bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I + will make it my quarrel. + +WILLIAMS Here's my glove: give me another of thine. + +KING HENRY V There. + +WILLIAMS This will I also wear in my cap: if ever thou come + to me and say, after to-morrow, 'This is my glove,' + by this hand, I will take thee a box on the ear. + +KING HENRY V If ever I live to see it, I will challenge it. + +WILLIAMS Thou darest as well be hanged. + +KING HENRY V Well. I will do it, though I take thee in the + king's company. + +WILLIAMS Keep thy word: fare thee well. + +BATES Be friends, you English fools, be friends: we have + French quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon. + +KING HENRY V Indeed, the French may lay twenty French crowns to + one, they will beat us; for they bear them on their + shoulders: but it is no English treason to cut + French crowns, and to-morrow the king himself will + be a clipper. + + [Exeunt soldiers] + + Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls, + Our debts, our careful wives, + Our children and our sins lay on the king! + We must bear all. O hard condition, + Twin-born with greatness, subject to the breath + Of every fool, whose sense no more can feel + But his own wringing! What infinite heart's-ease + Must kings neglect, that private men enjoy! + And what have kings, that privates have not too, + Save ceremony, save general ceremony? + And what art thou, thou idle ceremony? + What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more + Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? + What are thy rents? what are thy comings in? + O ceremony, show me but thy worth! + What is thy soul of adoration? + Art thou aught else but place, degree and form, + Creating awe and fear in other men? + Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd + Than they in fearing. + What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, + But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, + And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! + Think'st thou the fiery fever will go out + With titles blown from adulation? + Will it give place to flexure and low bending? + Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, + Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, + That play'st so subtly with a king's repose; + I am a king that find thee, and I know + 'Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball, + The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, + The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, + The farced title running 'fore the king, + The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp + That beats upon the high shore of this world, + No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, + Not all these, laid in bed majestical, + Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave, + Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind + Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; + Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, + But, like a lackey, from the rise to set + Sweats in the eye of Phoebus and all night + Sleeps in Elysium; next day after dawn, + Doth rise and help Hyperion to his horse, + And follows so the ever-running year, + With profitable labour, to his grave: + And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, + Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, + Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. + The slave, a member of the country's peace, + Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots + What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, + Whose hours the peasant best advantages. + + [Enter ERPINGHAM] + +ERPINGHAM My lord, your nobles, jealous of your absence, + Seek through your camp to find you. + +KING HENRY V Good old knight, + Collect them all together at my tent: + I'll be before thee. + +ERPINGHAM I shall do't, my lord. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY V O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts; + Possess them not with fear; take from them now + The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers + Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord, + O, not to-day, think not upon the fault + My father made in compassing the crown! + I Richard's body have interred anew; + And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears + Than from it issued forced drops of blood: + Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, + Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold up + Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built + Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests + Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do; + Though all that I can do is nothing worth, + Since that my penitence comes after all, + Imploring pardon. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER My liege! + +KING HENRY V My brother Gloucester's voice? Ay; + I know thy errand, I will go with thee: + The day, my friends and all things stay for me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The French camp. + + + [Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others] + +ORLEANS The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! + +DAUPHIN Montez A cheval! My horse! varlet! laquais! ha! + +ORLEANS O brave spirit! + +DAUPHIN Via! les eaux et la terre. + +ORLEANS Rien puis? L'air et la feu. + +DAUPHIN Ciel, cousin Orleans. + + [Enter Constable] + + Now, my lord constable! + +Constable Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh! + +DAUPHIN Mount them, and make incision in their hides, + That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, + And dout them with superfluous courage, ha! + +RAMBURES What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? + How shall we, then, behold their natural tears? + + [Enter Messenger] + +Messenger The English are embattled, you French peers. + +Constable To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! + Do but behold yon poor and starved band, + And your fair show shall suck away their souls, + Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. + There is not work enough for all our hands; + Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins + To give each naked curtle-axe a stain, + That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, + And sheathe for lack of sport: let us but blow on them, + The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them. + 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, + That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants, + Who in unnecessary action swarm + About our squares of battle, were enow + To purge this field of such a hilding foe, + Though we upon this mountain's basis by + Took stand for idle speculation: + But that our honours must not. What's to say? + A very little little let us do. + And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound + The tucket sonance and the note to mount; + For our approach shall so much dare the field + That England shall couch down in fear and yield. + + [Enter GRANDPRE] + +GRANDPRE Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? + Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, + Ill-favouredly become the morning field: + Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, + And our air shakes them passing scornfully: + Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host + And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps: + The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, + With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades + Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips, + The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes + And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit + Lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless; + And their executors, the knavish crows, + Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. + Description cannot suit itself in words + To demonstrate the life of such a battle + In life so lifeless as it shows itself. + +Constable They have said their prayers, and they stay for death. + +DAUPHIN Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits + And give their fasting horses provender, + And after fight with them? + +Constable I stay but for my guidon: to the field! + I will the banner from a trumpet take, + And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! + The sun is high, and we outwear the day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The English camp. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with + all his host: SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND] + +GLOUCESTER Where is the king? + +BEDFORD The king himself is rode to view their battle. + +WESTMORELAND Of fighting men they have full three score thousand. + +EXETER There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh. + +SALISBURY God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds. + God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge: + If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, + Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, + My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, + And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu! + +BEDFORD Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! + +EXETER Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly to-day: + And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, + For thou art framed of the firm truth of valour. + + [Exit SALISBURY] + +BEDFORD He is full of valour as of kindness; + Princely in both. + + [Enter the KING] + +WESTMORELAND O that we now had here + But one ten thousand of those men in England + That do no work to-day! + +KING HENRY V What's he that wishes so? + My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin: + If we are mark'd to die, we are enow + To do our country loss; and if to live, + The fewer men, the greater share of honour. + God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more. + By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, + Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; + It yearns me not if men my garments wear; + Such outward things dwell not in my desires: + But if it be a sin to covet honour, + I am the most offending soul alive. + No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: + God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour + As one man more, methinks, would share from me + For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more! + Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, + That he which hath no stomach to this fight, + Let him depart; his passport shall be made + And crowns for convoy put into his purse: + We would not die in that man's company + That fears his fellowship to die with us. + This day is called the feast of Crispian: + He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, + Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named, + And rouse him at the name of Crispian. + He that shall live this day, and see old age, + Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, + And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:' + Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. + And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.' + Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, + But he'll remember with advantages + What feats he did that day: then shall our names. + Familiar in his mouth as household words + Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter, + Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, + Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. + This story shall the good man teach his son; + And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, + From this day to the ending of the world, + But we in it shall be remember'd; + We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; + For he to-day that sheds his blood with me + Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile, + This day shall gentle his condition: + And gentlemen in England now a-bed + Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, + And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks + That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. + + [Re-enter SALISBURY] + +SALISBURY My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed: + The French are bravely in their battles set, + And will with all expedience charge on us. + +KING HENRY V All things are ready, if our minds be so. + +WESTMORELAND Perish the man whose mind is backward now! + +KING HENRY V Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz? + +WESTMORELAND God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, + Without more help, could fight this royal battle! + +KING HENRY V Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men; + Which likes me better than to wish us one. + You know your places: God be with you all! + + [Tucket. Enter MONTJOY] + +MONTJOY Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry, + If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound, + Before thy most assured overthrow: + For certainly thou art so near the gulf, + Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy, + The constable desires thee thou wilt mind + Thy followers of repentance; that their souls + May make a peaceful and a sweet retire + From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies + Must lie and fester. + +KING HENRY V Who hath sent thee now? + +MONTJOY The Constable of France. + +KING HENRY V I pray thee, bear my former answer back: + Bid them achieve me and then sell my bones. + Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? + The man that once did sell the lion's skin + While the beast lived, was killed with hunting him. + A many of our bodies shall no doubt + Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, + Shall witness live in brass of this day's work: + And those that leave their valiant bones in France, + Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills, + They shall be famed; for there the sun shall greet them, + And draw their honours reeking up to heaven; + Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime, + The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France. + Mark then abounding valour in our English, + That being dead, like to the bullet's grazing, + Break out into a second course of mischief, + Killing in relapse of mortality. + Let me speak proudly: tell the constable + We are but warriors for the working-day; + Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd + With rainy marching in the painful field; + There's not a piece of feather in our host-- + Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-- + And time hath worn us into slovenry: + But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim; + And my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night + They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck + The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads + And turn them out of service. If they do this,-- + As, if God please, they shall,--my ransom then + Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour; + Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald: + They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints; + Which if they have as I will leave 'em them, + Shall yield them little, tell the constable. + +MONTJOY I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: + Thou never shalt hear herald any more. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY V I fear thou'lt once more come again for ransom. + + [Enter YORK] + +YORK My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg + The leading of the vaward. + +KING HENRY V Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away: + And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The field of battle. + + + [Alarum. Excursions. Enter PISTOL, French Soldier, and Boy] + +PISTOL Yield, cur! + +French Soldier Je pense que vous etes gentilhomme de bonne qualite. + +PISTOL Qualtitie calmie custure me! Art thou a gentleman? + what is thy name? discuss. + +French Soldier O Seigneur Dieu! + +PISTOL O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman: + Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark; + O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, + Except, O signieur, thou do give to me + Egregious ransom. + +French Soldier O, prenez misericorde! ayez pitie de moi! + +PISTOL Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys; + Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat + In drops of crimson blood. + +French Soldier Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras? + +PISTOL Brass, cur! + Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, + Offer'st me brass? + +French Soldier O pardonnez moi! + +PISTOL Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of moys? + Come hither, boy: ask me this slave in French + What is his name. + +Boy Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele? + +French Soldier Monsieur le Fer. + +Boy He says his name is Master Fer. + +PISTOL Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret + him: discuss the same in French unto him. + +Boy I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk. + +PISTOL Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat. + +French Soldier Que dit-il, monsieur? + +Boy Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous + pret; car ce soldat ici est dispose tout a cette + heure de couper votre gorge. + +PISTOL Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy, + Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns; + Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. + +French Soldier O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me + pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: + gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents ecus. + +PISTOL What are his words? + +Boy He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of + a good house; and for his ransom he will give you + two hundred crowns. + +PISTOL Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the crowns will take. + +French Soldier Petit monsieur, que dit-il? + +Boy Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner + aucun prisonnier, neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous + l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la + liberte, le franchisement. + +French Soldier Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et + je m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les + mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, + vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur d'Angleterre. + +PISTOL Expound unto me, boy. + +Boy He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and + he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into + the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, + valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England. + +PISTOL As I suck blood, I will some mercy show. + Follow me! + +Boy Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. + + [Exeunt PISTOL, and French Soldier] + + I did never know so full a voice issue from so + empty a heart: but the saying is true 'The empty + vessel makes the greatest sound.' Bardolph and Nym + had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' + the old play, that every one may pare his nails with + a wooden dagger; and they are both hanged; and so + would this be, if he durst steal any thing + adventurously. I must stay with the lackeys, with + the luggage of our camp: the French might have a + good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is + none to guard it but boys. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [Enter Constable, ORLEANS, BOURBON, DAUPHIN, and RAMBURES] + +Constable O diable! + +ORLEANS O seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu! + +DAUPHIN Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all! + Reproach and everlasting shame + Sits mocking in our plumes. O merchante fortune! + Do not run away. + + [A short alarum] + +Constable Why, all our ranks are broke. + +DAUPHIN O perdurable shame! let's stab ourselves. + Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for? + +ORLEANS Is this the king we sent to for his ransom? + +BOURBON Shame and eternal shame, nothing but shame! + Let us die in honour: once more back again; + And he that will not follow Bourbon now, + Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand, + Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door + Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dog, + His fairest daughter is contaminated. + +Constable Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now! + Let us on heaps go offer up our lives. + +ORLEANS We are enow yet living in the field + To smother up the English in our throngs, + If any order might be thought upon. + +BOURBON The devil take order now! I'll to the throng: + Let life be short; else shame will be too long. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Another part of the field. + + + [Alarums. Enter KING HENRY and forces, EXETER, and others] + +KING HENRY V Well have we done, thrice valiant countrymen: + But all's not done; yet keep the French the field. + +EXETER The Duke of York commends him to your majesty. + +KING HENRY V Lives he, good uncle? thrice within this hour + I saw him down; thrice up again and fighting; + From helmet to the spur all blood he was. + +EXETER In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie, + Larding the plain; and by his bloody side, + Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds, + The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies. + Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over, + Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd, + And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes + That bloodily did spawn upon his face; + And cries aloud 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! + My soul shall thine keep company to heaven; + Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast, + As in this glorious and well-foughten field + We kept together in our chivalry!' + Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up: + He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand, + And, with a feeble gripe, says 'Dear my lord, + Commend my service to me sovereign.' + So did he turn and over Suffolk's neck + He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips; + And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd + A testament of noble-ending love. + The pretty and sweet manner of it forced + Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd; + But I had not so much of man in me, + And all my mother came into mine eyes + And gave me up to tears. + +KING HENRY V I blame you not; + For, hearing this, I must perforce compound + With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. + + [Alarum] + + But, hark! what new alarum is this same? + The French have reinforced their scatter'd men: + Then every soldier kill his prisoners: + Give the word through. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII Another part of the field. + + + [Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER] + +FLUELLEN Kill the poys and the luggage! 'tis expressly + against the law of arms: 'tis as arrant a piece of + knavery, mark you now, as can be offer't; in your + conscience, now, is it not? + +GOWER 'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the + cowardly rascals that ran from the battle ha' done + this slaughter: besides, they have burned and + carried away all that was in the king's tent; + wherefore the king, most worthily, hath caused every + soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a + gallant king! + +FLUELLEN Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What + call you the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born! + +GOWER Alexander the Great. + +FLUELLEN Why, I pray you, is not pig great? the pig, or the + great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the + magnanimous, are all one reckonings, save the phrase + is a little variations. + +GOWER I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his + father was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it. + +FLUELLEN I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I + tell you, captain, if you look in the maps of the + 'orld, I warrant you sall find, in the comparisons + between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, + look you, is both alike. There is a river in + Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at + Monmouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is + out of my prains what is the name of the other + river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is + to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you + mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life + is come after it indifferent well; for there is + figures in all things. Alexander, God knows, and + you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his + wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his + displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a + little intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and + his angers, look you, kill his best friend, Cleitus. + +GOWER Our king is not like him in that: he never killed + any of his friends. + +FLUELLEN It is not well done, mark you now take the tales out + of my mouth, ere it is made and finished. I speak + but in the figures and comparisons of it: as + Alexander killed his friend Cleitus, being in his + ales and his cups; so also Harry Monmouth, being in + his right wits and his good judgments, turned away + the fat knight with the great belly-doublet: he + was full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and + mocks; I have forgot his name. + +GOWER Sir John Falstaff. + +FLUELLEN That is he: I'll tell you there is good men porn at Monmouth. + +GOWER Here comes his majesty. + + [Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, and forces; WARWICK, + GLOUCESTER, EXETER, and others] + +KING HENRY V I was not angry since I came to France + Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald; + Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill: + If they will fight with us, bid them come down, + Or void the field; they do offend our sight: + If they'll do neither, we will come to them, + And make them skirr away, as swift as stones + Enforced from the old Assyrian slings: + Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have, + And not a man of them that we shall take + Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. + + [Enter MONTJOY] + +EXETER Here comes the herald of the French, my liege. + +GLOUCESTER His eyes are humbler than they used to be. + +KING HENRY V How now! what means this, herald? know'st thou not + That I have fined these bones of mine for ransom? + Comest thou again for ransom? + +MONTJOY No, great king: + I come to thee for charitable licence, + That we may wander o'er this bloody field + To look our dead, and then to bury them; + To sort our nobles from our common men. + For many of our princes--woe the while!-- + Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood; + So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs + In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds + Fret fetlock deep in gore and with wild rage + Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, + Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great king, + To view the field in safety and dispose + Of their dead bodies! + +KING HENRY V I tell thee truly, herald, + I know not if the day be ours or no; + For yet a many of your horsemen peer + And gallop o'er the field. + +MONTJOY The day is yours. + +KING HENRY V Praised be God, and not our strength, for it! + What is this castle call'd that stands hard by? + +MONTJOY They call it Agincourt. + +KING HENRY V Then call we this the field of Agincourt, + Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. + +FLUELLEN Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your + majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack + Prince of Wales, as I have read in the chronicles, + fought a most prave pattle here in France. + +KING HENRY V They did, Fluellen. + +FLUELLEN Your majesty says very true: if your majesties is + remembered of it, the Welshmen did good service in a + garden where leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their + Monmouth caps; which, your majesty know, to this + hour is an honourable badge of the service; and I do + believe your majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek + upon Saint Tavy's day. + +KING HENRY V I wear it for a memorable honour; + For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. + +FLUELLEN All the water in Wye cannot wash your majesty's + Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: + God pless it and preserve it, as long as it pleases + his grace, and his majesty too! + +KING HENRY V Thanks, good my countryman. + +FLUELLEN By Jeshu, I am your majesty's countryman, I care not + who know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I + need not to be ashamed of your majesty, praised be + God, so long as your majesty is an honest man. + +KING HENRY V God keep me so! Our heralds go with him: + Bring me just notice of the numbers dead + On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither. + + [Points to WILLIAMS. Exeunt Heralds with Montjoy] + +EXETER Soldier, you must come to the king. + +KING HENRY V Soldier, why wearest thou that glove in thy cap? + +WILLIAMS An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage of one that + I should fight withal, if he be alive. + +KING HENRY V An Englishman? + +WILLIAMS An't please your majesty, a rascal that swaggered + with me last night; who, if alive and ever dare to + challenge this glove, I have sworn to take him a box + o' th' ear: or if I can see my glove in his cap, + which he swore, as he was a soldier, he would wear + if alive, I will strike it out soundly. + +KING HENRY V What think you, Captain Fluellen? is it fit this + soldier keep his oath? + +FLUELLEN He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your + majesty, in my conscience. + +KING HENRY V It may be his enemy is a gentleman of great sort, + quite from the answer of his degree. + +FLUELLEN Though he be as good a gentleman as the devil is, as + Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look + your grace, that he keep his vow and his oath: if + he be perjured, see you now, his reputation is as + arrant a villain and a Jacksauce, as ever his black + shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my + conscience, la! + +KING HENRY V Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meetest the fellow. + +WILLIAMS So I will, my liege, as I live. + +KING HENRY V Who servest thou under? + +WILLIAMS Under Captain Gower, my liege. + +FLUELLEN Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and + literatured in the wars. + +KING HENRY V Call him hither to me, soldier. + +WILLIAMS I will, my liege. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY V Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me and + stick it in thy cap: when Alencon and myself were + down together, I plucked this glove from his helm: + if any man challenge this, he is a friend to + Alencon, and an enemy to our person; if thou + encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love. + +FLUELLEN Your grace doo's me as great honours as can be + desired in the hearts of his subjects: I would fain + see the man, that has but two legs, that shall find + himself aggrieved at this glove; that is all; but I + would fain see it once, an please God of his grace + that I might see. + +KING HENRY V Knowest thou Gower? + +FLUELLEN He is my dear friend, an please you. + +KING HENRY V Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent. + +FLUELLEN I will fetch him. + + [Exit] + +KING HENRY V My Lord of Warwick, and my brother Gloucester, + Follow Fluellen closely at the heels: + The glove which I have given him for a favour + May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear; + It is the soldier's; I by bargain should + Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick: + If that the soldier strike him, as I judge + By his blunt bearing he will keep his word, + Some sudden mischief may arise of it; + For I do know Fluellen valiant + And, touched with choler, hot as gunpowder, + And quickly will return an injury: + Follow and see there be no harm between them. + Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VIII Before KING HENRY'S pavilion. + + + [Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS] + +WILLIAMS I warrant it is to knight you, captain. + + [Enter FLUELLEN] + +FLUELLEN God's will and his pleasure, captain, I beseech you + now, come apace to the king: there is more good + toward you peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of. + +WILLIAMS Sir, know you this glove? + +FLUELLEN Know the glove! I know the glove is glove. + +WILLIAMS I know this; and thus I challenge it. + + [Strikes him] + +FLUELLEN 'Sblood! an arrant traitor as any is in the + universal world, or in France, or in England! + +GOWER How now, sir! you villain! + +WILLIAMS Do you think I'll be forsworn? + +FLUELLEN Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his + payment into ploughs, I warrant you. + +WILLIAMS I am no traitor. + +FLUELLEN That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his + majesty's name, apprehend him: he's a friend of the + Duke Alencon's. + + [Enter WARWICK and GLOUCESTER] + +WARWICK How now, how now! what's the matter? + +FLUELLEN My Lord of Warwick, here is--praised be God for it! + --a most contagious treason come to light, look + you, as you shall desire in a summer's day. Here is + his majesty. + + [Enter KING HENRY and EXETER] + +KING HENRY V How now! what's the matter? + +FLUELLEN My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, + look your grace, has struck the glove which your + majesty is take out of the helmet of Alencon. + +WILLIAMS My liege, this was my glove; here is the fellow of + it; and he that I gave it to in change promised to + wear it in his cap: I promised to strike him, if he + did: I met this man with my glove in his cap, and I + have been as good as my word. + +FLUELLEN Your majesty hear now, saving your majesty's + manhood, what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy + knave it is: I hope your majesty is pear me + testimony and witness, and will avouchment, that + this is the glove of Alencon, that your majesty is + give me; in your conscience, now? + +KING HENRY V Give me thy glove, soldier: look, here is the + fellow of it. + 'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike; + And thou hast given me most bitter terms. + +FLUELLEN An please your majesty, let his neck answer for it, + if there is any martial law in the world. + +KING HENRY V How canst thou make me satisfaction? + +WILLIAMS All offences, my lord, come from the heart: never + came any from mine that might offend your majesty. + +KING HENRY V It was ourself thou didst abuse. + +WILLIAMS Your majesty came not like yourself: you appeared to + me but as a common man; witness the night, your + garments, your lowliness; and what your highness + suffered under that shape, I beseech you take it for + your own fault and not mine: for had you been as I + took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I + beseech your highness, pardon me. + +KING HENRY V Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns, + And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow; + And wear it for an honour in thy cap + Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns: + And, captain, you must needs be friends with him. + +FLUELLEN By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle + enough in his belly. Hold, there is twelve pence + for you; and I pray you to serve Got, and keep you + out of prawls, and prabbles' and quarrels, and + dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better for you. + +WILLIAMS I will none of your money. + +FLUELLEN It is with a good will; I can tell you, it will + serve you to mend your shoes: come, wherefore should + you be so pashful? your shoes is not so good: 'tis + a good silling, I warrant you, or I will change it. + + [Enter an English Herald] + +KING HENRY V Now, herald, are the dead number'd? + +Herald Here is the number of the slaughter'd French. + +KING HENRY V What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle? + +EXETER Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the king; + John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt: + Of other lords and barons, knights and squires, + Full fifteen hundred, besides common men. + +KING HENRY V This note doth tell me of ten thousand French + That in the field lie slain: of princes, in this number, + And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead + One hundred twenty six: added to these, + Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, + Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which, + Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: + So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, + There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; + The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires, + And gentlemen of blood and quality. + The names of those their nobles that lie dead: + Charles Delabreth, high constable of France; + Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France; + The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures; + Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin, + John Duke of Alencon, Anthony Duke of Brabant, + The brother of the Duke of Burgundy, + And Edward Duke of Bar: of lusty earls, + Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix, + Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale. + Here was a royal fellowship of death! + Where is the number of our English dead? + + [Herald shews him another paper] + + Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, + Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire: + None else of name; and of all other men + But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here; + And not to us, but to thy arm alone, + Ascribe we all! When, without stratagem, + But in plain shock and even play of battle, + Was ever known so great and little loss + On one part and on the other? Take it, God, + For it is none but thine! + +EXETER 'Tis wonderful! + +KING HENRY V Come, go we in procession to the village. + And be it death proclaimed through our host + To boast of this or take the praise from God + Which is his only. + +FLUELLEN Is it not lawful, an please your majesty, to tell + how many is killed? + +KING HENRY V Yes, captain; but with this acknowledgement, + That God fought for us. + +FLUELLEN Yes, my conscience, he did us great good. + +KING HENRY V Do we all holy rites; + Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum;' + The dead with charity enclosed in clay: + And then to Calais; and to England then: + Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT V + + + PROLOGUE. + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, + That I may prompt them: and of such as have, + I humbly pray them to admit the excuse + Of time, of numbers and due course of things, + Which cannot in their huge and proper life + Be here presented. Now we bear the king + Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen, + Heave him away upon your winged thoughts + Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach + Pales in the flood with men, with wives and boys, + Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep mouth'd sea, + Which like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king + Seems to prepare his way: so let him land, + And solemnly see him set on to London. + So swift a pace hath thought that even now + You may imagine him upon Blackheath; + Where that his lords desire him to have borne + His bruised helmet and his bended sword + Before him through the city: he forbids it, + Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; + Giving full trophy, signal and ostent + Quite from himself to God. But now behold, + In the quick forge and working-house of thought, + How London doth pour out her citizens! + The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, + Like to the senators of the antique Rome, + With the plebeians swarming at their heels, + Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in: + As, by a lower but loving likelihood, + Were now the general of our gracious empress, + As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, + Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, + How many would the peaceful city quit, + To welcome him! much more, and much more cause, + Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; + As yet the lamentation of the French + Invites the King of England's stay at home; + The emperor's coming in behalf of France, + To order peace between them; and omit + All the occurrences, whatever chanced, + Till Harry's back-return again to France: + There must we bring him; and myself have play'd + The interim, by remembering you 'tis past. + Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance, + After your thoughts, straight back again to France. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I France. The English camp. + + + [Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER] + +GOWER Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek today? + Saint Davy's day is past. + +FLUELLEN There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in + all things: I will tell you, asse my friend, + Captain Gower: the rascally, scald, beggarly, + lousy, pragging knave, Pistol, which you and + yourself and all the world know to be no petter + than a fellow, look you now, of no merits, he is + come to me and prings me pread and salt yesterday, + look you, and bid me eat my leek: it was in place + where I could not breed no contention with him; but + I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see + him once again, and then I will tell him a little + piece of my desires. + + [Enter PISTOL] + +GOWER Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock. + +FLUELLEN 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his + turkey-cocks. God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you + scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you! + +PISTOL Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan, + To have me fold up Parca's fatal web? + Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. + +FLUELLEN I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my + desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, + look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not + love it, nor your affections and your appetites and + your digestions doo's not agree with it, I would + desire you to eat it. + +PISTOL Not for Cadwallader and all his goats. + +FLUELLEN There is one goat for you. + + [Strikes him] + + Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it? + +PISTOL Base Trojan, thou shalt die. + +FLUELLEN You say very true, scauld knave, when God's will is: + I will desire you to live in the mean time, and eat + your victuals: come, there is sauce for it. + + [Strikes him] + + You called me yesterday mountain-squire; but I will + make you to-day a squire of low degree. I pray you, + fall to: if you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek. + +GOWER Enough, captain: you have astonished him. + +FLUELLEN I say, I will make him eat some part of my leek, or + I will peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you; it + is good for your green wound and your ploody coxcomb. + +PISTOL Must I bite? + +FLUELLEN Yes, certainly, and out of doubt and out of question + too, and ambiguities. + +PISTOL By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat + and eat, I swear-- + +FLUELLEN Eat, I pray you: will you have some more sauce to + your leek? there is not enough leek to swear by. + +PISTOL Quiet thy cudgel; thou dost see I eat. + +FLUELLEN Much good do you, scauld knave, heartily. Nay, pray + you, throw none away; the skin is good for your + broken coxcomb. When you take occasions to see leeks + hereafter, I pray you, mock at 'em; that is all. + +PISTOL Good. + +FLUELLEN Ay, leeks is good: hold you, there is a groat to + heal your pate. + +PISTOL Me a groat! + +FLUELLEN Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I + have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. + +PISTOL I take thy groat in earnest of revenge. + +FLUELLEN If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in cudgels: + you shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but + cudgels. God b' wi' you, and keep you, and heal your pate. + + [Exit] + +PISTOL All hell shall stir for this. + +GOWER Go, go; you are a counterfeit cowardly knave. Will + you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an + honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of + predeceased valour and dare not avouch in your deeds + any of your words? I have seen you gleeking and + galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You + thought, because he could not speak English in the + native garb, he could not therefore handle an + English cudgel: you find it otherwise; and + henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good + English condition. Fare ye well. + + [Exit] + +PISTOL Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now? + News have I, that my Nell is dead i' the spital + Of malady of France; + And there my rendezvous is quite cut off. + Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs + Honour is cudgelled. Well, bawd I'll turn, + And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand. + To England will I steal, and there I'll steal: + And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars, + And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II France. A royal palace. + + + [Enter, at one door KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, + GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, WESTMORELAND, and other Lords; + at another, the FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL, the + PRINCESS KATHARINE, ALICE and other Ladies; the + DUKE of BURGUNDY, and his train] + +KING HENRY V Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met! + Unto our brother France, and to our sister, + Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes + To our most fair and princely cousin Katharine; + And, as a branch and member of this royalty, + By whom this great assembly is contrived, + We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy; + And, princes French, and peers, health to you all! + +KING OF FRANCE Right joyous are we to behold your face, + Most worthy brother England; fairly met: + So are you, princes English, every one. + +QUEEN ISABEL So happy be the issue, brother England, + Of this good day and of this gracious meeting, + As we are now glad to behold your eyes; + Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them + Against the French, that met them in their bent, + The fatal balls of murdering basilisks: + The venom of such looks, we fairly hope, + Have lost their quality, and that this day + Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love. + +KING HENRY V To cry amen to that, thus we appear. + +QUEEN ISABEL You English princes all, I do salute you. + +BURGUNDY My duty to you both, on equal love, + Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd, + With all my wits, my pains and strong endeavours, + To bring your most imperial majesties + Unto this bar and royal interview, + Your mightiness on both parts best can witness. + Since then my office hath so far prevail'd + That, face to face and royal eye to eye, + You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me, + If I demand, before this royal view, + What rub or what impediment there is, + Why that the naked, poor and mangled Peace, + Dear nurse of arts and joyful births, + Should not in this best garden of the world + Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage? + Alas, she hath from France too long been chased, + And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, + Corrupting in its own fertility. + Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, + Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd, + Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair, + Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas + The darnel, hemlock and rank fumitory + Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts + That should deracinate such savagery; + The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth + The freckled cowslip, burnet and green clover, + Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, + Conceives by idleness and nothing teems + But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, + Losing both beauty and utility. + And as our vineyards, fallows, meads and hedges, + Defective in their natures, grow to wildness, + Even so our houses and ourselves and children + Have lost, or do not learn for want of time, + The sciences that should become our country; + But grow like savages,--as soldiers will + That nothing do but meditate on blood,-- + To swearing and stern looks, diffused attire + And every thing that seems unnatural. + Which to reduce into our former favour + You are assembled: and my speech entreats + That I may know the let, why gentle Peace + Should not expel these inconveniences + And bless us with her former qualities. + +KING HENRY V If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace, + Whose want gives growth to the imperfections + Which you have cited, you must buy that peace + With full accord to all our just demands; + Whose tenors and particular effects + You have enscheduled briefly in your hands. + +BURGUNDY The king hath heard them; to the which as yet + There is no answer made. + +KING HENRY V Well then the peace, + Which you before so urged, lies in his answer. + +KING OF FRANCE I have but with a cursorary eye + O'erglanced the articles: pleaseth your grace + To appoint some of your council presently + To sit with us once more, with better heed + To re-survey them, we will suddenly + Pass our accept and peremptory answer. + +KING HENRY V Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter, + And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester, + Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the king; + And take with you free power to ratify, + Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best + Shall see advantageable for our dignity, + Any thing in or out of our demands, + And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister, + Go with the princes, or stay here with us? + +QUEEN ISABEL Our gracious brother, I will go with them: + Haply a woman's voice may do some good, + When articles too nicely urged be stood on. + +KING HENRY V Yet leave our cousin Katharine here with us: + She is our capital demand, comprised + Within the fore-rank of our articles. + +QUEEN ISABEL She hath good leave. + + [Exeunt all except HENRY, KATHARINE, and ALICE] + +KING HENRY V Fair Katharine, and most fair, + Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms + Such as will enter at a lady's ear + And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? + +KATHARINE Your majesty shall mock at me; I cannot speak your England. + +KING HENRY V O fair Katharine, if you will love me soundly with + your French heart, I will be glad to hear you + confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do + you like me, Kate? + +KATHARINE Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is 'like me.' + +KING HENRY V An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel. + +KATHARINE Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges? + +ALICE Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il. + +KING HENRY V I said so, dear Katharine; and I must not blush to + affirm it. + +KATHARINE O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de + tromperies. + +KING HENRY V What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men + are full of deceits? + +ALICE Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of + deceits: dat is de princess. + +KING HENRY V The princess is the better Englishwoman. I' faith, + Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am + glad thou canst speak no better English; for, if + thou couldst, thou wouldst find me such a plain king + that thou wouldst think I had sold my farm to buy my + crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but + directly to say 'I love you:' then if you urge me + farther than to say 'do you in faith?' I wear out + my suit. Give me your answer; i' faith, do: and so + clap hands and a bargain: how say you, lady? + +KATHARINE Sauf votre honneur, me understand vell. + +KING HENRY V Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for + your sake, Kate, why you undid me: for the one, I + have neither words nor measure, and for the other, I + have no strength in measure, yet a reasonable + measure in strength. If I could win a lady at + leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my + armour on my back, under the correction of bragging + be it spoken. I should quickly leap into a wife. + Or if I might buffet for my love, or bound my horse + for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher and + sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God, + Kate, I cannot look greenly nor gasp out my + eloquence, nor I have no cunning in protestation; + only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, + nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a + fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth + sun-burning, that never looks in his glass for love + of any thing he sees there, let thine eye be thy + cook. I speak to thee plain soldier: If thou canst + love me for this, take me: if not, to say to thee + that I shall die, is true; but for thy love, by the + Lord, no; yet I love thee too. And while thou + livest, dear Kate, take a fellow of plain and + uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee + right, because he hath not the gift to woo in other + places: for these fellows of infinite tongue, that + can rhyme themselves into ladies' favours, they do + always reason themselves out again. What! a + speaker is but a prater; a rhyme is but a ballad. A + good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a + black beard will turn white; a curled pate will grow + bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax + hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the + moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon; for it + shines bright and never changes, but keeps his + course truly. If thou would have such a one, take + me; and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, + take a king. And what sayest thou then to my love? + speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. + +KATHARINE Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France? + +KING HENRY V No; it is not possible you should love the enemy of + France, Kate: but, in loving me, you should love + the friend of France; for I love France so well that + I will not part with a village of it; I will have it + all mine: and, Kate, when France is mine and I am + yours, then yours is France and you are mine. + +KATHARINE I cannot tell vat is dat. + +KING HENRY V No, Kate? I will tell thee in French; which I am + sure will hang upon my tongue like a new-married + wife about her husband's neck, hardly to be shook + off. Je quand sur le possession de France, et quand + vous avez le possession de moi,--let me see, what + then? Saint Denis be my speed!--donc votre est + France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, + Kate, to conquer the kingdom as to speak so much + more French: I shall never move thee in French, + unless it be to laugh at me. + +KATHARINE Sauf votre honneur, le Francois que vous parlez, il + est meilleur que l'Anglois lequel je parle. + +KING HENRY V No, faith, is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my + tongue, and I thine, most truly-falsely, must needs + be granted to be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou + understand thus much English, canst thou love me? + +KATHARINE I cannot tell. + +KING HENRY V Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask + them. Come, I know thou lovest me: and at night, + when you come into your closet, you'll question this + gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to + her dispraise those parts in me that you love with + your heart: but, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the + rather, gentle princess, because I love thee + cruelly. If ever thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a + saving faith within me tells me thou shalt, I get + thee with scambling, and thou must therefore needs + prove a good soldier-breeder: shall not thou and I, + between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a + boy, half French, half English, that shall go to + Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? + shall we not? what sayest thou, my fair + flower-de-luce? + +KATHARINE I do not know dat + +KING HENRY V No; 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise: do + but now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your + French part of such a boy; and for my English moiety + take the word of a king and a bachelor. How answer + you, la plus belle Katharine du monde, mon tres cher + et devin deesse? + +KATHARINE Your majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de + most sage demoiselle dat is en France. + +KING HENRY V Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in + true English, I love thee, Kate: by which honour I + dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to + flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor + and untempering effect of my visage. Now, beshrew + my father's ambition! he was thinking of civil wars + when he got me: therefore was I created with a + stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, when + I come to woo ladies, I fright them. But, in faith, + Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear: + my comfort is, that old age, that ill layer up of + beauty, can do no more, spoil upon my face: thou + hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou + shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better: + and therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you + have me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the + thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; + take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am + thine:' which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine + ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is + thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Harry + Plantagenet is thine;' who though I speak it before + his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, + thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. + Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is + music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of + all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken + English; wilt thou have me? + +KATHARINE Dat is as it sall please de roi mon pere. + +KING HENRY V Nay, it will please him well, Kate it shall please + him, Kate. + +KATHARINE Den it sall also content me. + +KING HENRY V Upon that I kiss your hand, and I call you my queen. + +KATHARINE Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez: ma foi, je + ne veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en + baisant la main d'une de votre seigeurie indigne + serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous supplie, mon + tres-puissant seigneur. + +KING HENRY V Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. + +KATHARINE Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant + leur noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France. + +KING HENRY V Madam my interpreter, what says she? + +ALICE Dat it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of + France,--I cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish. + +KING HENRY V To kiss. + +ALICE Your majesty entendre bettre que moi. + +KING HENRY V It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss + before they are married, would she say? + +ALICE Oui, vraiment. + +KING HENRY V O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear + Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak + list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of + manners, Kate; and the liberty that follows our + places stops the mouth of all find-faults; as I will + do yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your + country in denying me a kiss: therefore, patiently + and yielding. + + [Kissing her] + + You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is + more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the + tongues of the French council; and they should + sooner persuade Harry of England than a general + petition of monarchs. Here comes your father. + + [Re-enter the FRENCH KING and his QUEEN, BURGUNDY, + and other Lords] + +BURGUNDY God save your majesty! my royal cousin, teach you + our princess English? + +KING HENRY V I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how + perfectly I love her; and that is good English. + +BURGUNDY Is she not apt? + +KING HENRY V Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not + smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the + heart of flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up + the spirit of love in her, that he will appear in + his true likeness. + +BURGUNDY Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you + for that. If you would conjure in her, you must + make a circle; if conjure up love in her in his true + likeness, he must appear naked and blind. Can you + blame her then, being a maid yet rosed over with the + virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the + appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing + self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid + to consign to. + +KING HENRY V Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and enforces. + +BURGUNDY They are then excused, my lord, when they see not + what they do. + +KING HENRY V Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent winking. + +BURGUNDY I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will + teach her to know my meaning: for maids, well + summered and warm kept, are like flies at + Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their + eyes; and then they will endure handling, which + before would not abide looking on. + +KING HENRY V This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; + and so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the + latter end and she must be blind too. + +BURGUNDY As love is, my lord, before it loves. + +KING HENRY V It is so: and you may, some of you, thank love for + my blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city + for one fair French maid that stands in my way. + +FRENCH KING Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities + turned into a maid; for they are all girdled with + maiden walls that war hath never entered. + +KING HENRY V Shall Kate be my wife? + +FRENCH KING So please you. + +KING HENRY V I am content; so the maiden cities you talk of may + wait on her: so the maid that stood in the way for + my wish shall show me the way to my will. + +FRENCH KING We have consented to all terms of reason. + +KING HENRY V Is't so, my lords of England? + +WESTMORELAND The king hath granted every article: + His daughter first, and then in sequel all, + According to their firm proposed natures. + +EXETER Only he hath not yet subscribed this: + Where your majesty demands, that the King of France, + having any occasion to write for matter of grant, + shall name your highness in this form and with this + addition in French, Notre trescher fils Henri, Roi + d'Angleterre, Heritier de France; and thus in + Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex + Angliae, et Haeres Franciae. + +FRENCH KING Nor this I have not, brother, so denied, + But your request shall make me let it pass. + +KING HENRY V I pray you then, in love and dear alliance, + Let that one article rank with the rest; + And thereupon give me your daughter. + +FRENCH KING Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up + Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms + Of France and England, whose very shores look pale + With envy of each other's happiness, + May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction + Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord + In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance + His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France. + +ALL Amen! + +KING HENRY V Now, welcome, Kate: and bear me witness all, + That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. + + [Flourish] + +QUEEN ISABEL God, the best maker of all marriages, + Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one! + As man and wife, being two, are one in love, + So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal, + That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, + Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage, + Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms, + To make divorce of their incorporate league; + That English may as French, French Englishmen, + Receive each other. God speak this Amen! + +ALL Amen! + +KING HENRY V Prepare we for our marriage--on which day, + My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath, + And all the peers', for surety of our leagues. + Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me; + And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be! + + [Sennet. Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY V + + EPILOGUE + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, + Our bending author hath pursued the story, + In little room confining mighty men, + Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. + Small time, but in that small most greatly lived + This star of England: Fortune made his sword; + By which the world's best garden be achieved, + And of it left his son imperial lord. + Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd King + Of France and England, did this king succeed; + Whose state so many had the managing, + That they lost France and made his England bleed: + Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, + In your fair minds let this acceptance take. + + [Exit] + KING HENRY VIII + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING HENRY +the Eighth (KING HENRY VIII:) + +CARDINAL WOLSEY: + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS: + +CAPUCIUS Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V + +CRANMER Archbishop of Canterbury. + +DUKE OF NORFOLK (NORFOLK:) + +DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM (BUCKINGHAM:) + +DUKE OF SUFFOLK (SUFFOLK:) + +EARL OF SURREY (SURREY:) + +Lord Chamberlain (Chamberlain:) + +Lord Chancellor (Chancellor:) + +GARDINER Bishop of Winchester. + + Bishop of Lincoln. (LINCOLN:) + +LORD ABERGAVENNY (ABERGAVENNY:) + +LORD SANDS (SANDS:) + +SIR HENRY +GUILDFORD (GUILDFORD:) + +SIR THOMAS LOVELL (LOVELL:) + +SIR ANTHONY DENNY (DENNY:) + +SIR NICHOLAS VAUX (VAUX:) + + Secretaries to Wolsey. + (First Secretary:) + (Second Secretary:) + +CROMWELL Servant to Wolsey. + +GRIFFITH Gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine. + + Three Gentlemen. + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + (Third Gentleman:) + +DOCTOR BUTTS Physician to the King. + + Garter King-at-Arms. (Garter:) + + Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. (Surveyor:) + +BRANDON: + + A Sergeant-at-Arms. (Sergeant:) + + Door-keeper of the Council-chamber. Porter, (Porter:) + and his Man. (Man:) + + Page to Gardiner. (Boy:) + A Crier. (Crier:) + +QUEEN KATHARINE (QUEEN KATHARINE:) Wife to King Henry, afterwards + divorced. (KATHARINE:) + +ANNE BULLEN (ANNE:) her Maid of Honour, afterwards Queen. (QUEEN ANNE:) + + An old Lady, friend to Anne Bullen. (Old Lady:) + +PATIENCE woman to Queen Katharine. + + Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women + attending upon the Queen; Scribes, Officers, Guards, + and other Attendants. + Spirits. + + (Scribe:) + (Keeper:) + (Servant:) + (Messenger:) + + +SCENE London; Westminster; Kimbolton + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + + THE PROLOGUE + + + I come no more to make you laugh: things now, + That bear a weighty and a serious brow, + Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, + Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, + We now present. Those that can pity, here + May, if they think it well, let fall a tear; + The subject will deserve it. Such as give + Their money out of hope they may believe, + May here find truth too. Those that come to see + Only a show or two, and so agree + The play may pass, if they be still and willing, + I'll undertake may see away their shilling + Richly in two short hours. Only they + That come to hear a merry bawdy play, + A noise of targets, or to see a fellow + In a long motley coat guarded with yellow, + Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know, + To rank our chosen truth with such a show + As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting + Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, + To make that only true we now intend, + Will leave us never an understanding friend. + Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known + The first and happiest hearers of the town, + Be sad, as we would make ye: think ye see + The very persons of our noble story + As they were living; think you see them great, + And follow'd with the general throng and sweat + Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see + How soon this mightiness meets misery: + And, if you can be merry then, I'll say + A man may weep upon his wedding-day. + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. An ante-chamber in the palace. + + + [Enter NORFOLK at one door; at the other, BUCKINGHAM + and ABERGAVENNY] + +BUCKINGHAM Good morrow, and well met. How have ye done + Since last we saw in France? + +NORFOLK I thank your grace, + Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer + Of what I saw there. + +BUCKINGHAM An untimely ague + Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber when + Those suns of glory, those two lights of men, + Met in the vale of Andren. + +NORFOLK 'Twixt Guynes and Arde: + I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; + Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung + In their embracement, as they grew together; + Which had they, what four throned ones could have weigh'd + Such a compounded one? + +BUCKINGHAM All the whole time + I was my chamber's prisoner. + +NORFOLK Then you lost + The view of earthly glory: men might say, + Till this time pomp was single, but now married + To one above itself. Each following day + Became the next day's master, till the last + Made former wonders its. To-day the French, + All clinquant, all in gold, like heathen gods, + Shone down the English; and, to-morrow, they + Made Britain India: every man that stood + Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were + As cherubins, all guilt: the madams too, + Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear + The pride upon them, that their very labour + Was to them as a painting: now this masque + Was cried incomparable; and the ensuing night + Made it a fool and beggar. The two kings, + Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, + As presence did present them; him in eye, + Still him in praise: and, being present both + 'Twas said they saw but one; and no discerner + Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns-- + For so they phrase 'em--by their heralds challenged + The noble spirits to arms, they did perform + Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story, + Being now seen possible enough, got credit, + That Bevis was believed. + +BUCKINGHAM O, you go far. + +NORFOLK As I belong to worship and affect + In honour honesty, the tract of every thing + Would by a good discourser lose some life, + Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal; + To the disposing of it nought rebell'd. + Order gave each thing view; the office did + Distinctly his full function. + +BUCKINGHAM Who did guide, + I mean, who set the body and the limbs + Of this great sport together, as you guess? + +NORFOLK One, certes, that promises no element + In such a business. + +BUCKINGHAM I pray you, who, my lord? + +NORFOLK All this was order'd by the good discretion + Of the right reverend Cardinal of York. + +BUCKINGHAM The devil speed him! no man's pie is freed + From his ambitious finger. What had he + To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder + That such a keech can with his very bulk + Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun + And keep it from the earth. + +NORFOLK Surely, sir, + There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends; + For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace + Chalks successors their way, nor call'd upon + For high feats done to the crown; neither allied + For eminent assistants; but, spider-like, + Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, + The force of his own merit makes his way + A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys + A place next to the king. + +ABERGAVENNY I cannot tell + What heaven hath given him,--let some graver eye + Pierce into that; but I can see his pride + Peep through each part of him: whence has he that, + If not from hell? the devil is a niggard, + Or has given all before, and he begins + A new hell in himself. + +BUCKINGHAM Why the devil, + Upon this French going out, took he upon him, + Without the privity o' the king, to appoint + Who should attend on him? He makes up the file + Of all the gentry; for the most part such + To whom as great a charge as little honour + He meant to lay upon: and his own letter, + The honourable board of council out, + Must fetch him in the papers. + +ABERGAVENNY I do know + Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have + By this so sickened their estates, that never + They shall abound as formerly. + +BUCKINGHAM O, many + Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em + For this great journey. What did this vanity + But minister communication of + A most poor issue? + +NORFOLK Grievingly I think, + The peace between the French and us not values + The cost that did conclude it. + +BUCKINGHAM Every man, + After the hideous storm that follow'd, was + A thing inspired; and, not consulting, broke + Into a general prophecy; That this tempest, + Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded + The sudden breach on't. + +NORFOLK Which is budded out; + For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd + Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. + +ABERGAVENNY Is it therefore + The ambassador is silenced? + +NORFOLK Marry, is't. + +ABERGAVENNY A proper title of a peace; and purchased + At a superfluous rate! + +BUCKINGHAM Why, all this business + Our reverend cardinal carried. + +NORFOLK Like it your grace, + The state takes notice of the private difference + Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you-- + And take it from a heart that wishes towards you + Honour and plenteous safety--that you read + The cardinal's malice and his potency + Together; to consider further that + What his high hatred would effect wants not + A minister in his power. You know his nature, + That he's revengeful, and I know his sword + Hath a sharp edge: it's long and, 't may be said, + It reaches far, and where 'twill not extend, + Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel, + You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock + That I advise your shunning. + + [Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, the purse borne before him, + certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries with + papers. CARDINAL WOLSEY in his passage fixeth his + eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full + of disdain] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha? + Where's his examination? + +First Secretary Here, so please you. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Is he in person ready? + +First Secretary Ay, please your grace. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham + Shall lessen this big look. + + [Exeunt CARDINAL WOLSEY and his Train] + +BUCKINGHAM This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I + Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best + Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book + Outworths a noble's blood. + +NORFOLK What, are you chafed? + Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only + Which your disease requires. + +BUCKINGHAM I read in's looks + Matter against me; and his eye reviled + Me, as his abject object: at this instant + He bores me with some trick: he's gone to the king; + I'll follow and outstare him. + +NORFOLK Stay, my lord, + And let your reason with your choler question + What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills + Requires slow pace at first: anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, + Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England + Can advise me like you: be to yourself + As you would to your friend. + +BUCKINGHAM I'll to the king; + And from a mouth of honour quite cry down + This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim + There's difference in no persons. + +NORFOLK Be advised; + Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot + That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, + By violent swiftness, that which we run at, + And lose by over-running. Know you not, + The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, + In seeming to augment it wastes it? Be advised: + I say again, there is no English soul + More stronger to direct you than yourself, + If with the sap of reason you would quench, + Or but allay, the fire of passion. + +BUCKINGHAM Sir, + I am thankful to you; and I'll go along + By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, + Whom from the flow of gall I name not but + From sincere motions, by intelligence, + And proofs as clear as founts in July when + We see each grain of gravel, I do know + To be corrupt and treasonous. + +NORFOLK Say not 'treasonous.' + +BUCKINGHAM To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong + As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, + Or wolf, or both,--for he is equal ravenous + As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief + As able to perform't; his mind and place + Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally-- + Only to show his pomp as well in France + As here at home, suggests the king our master + To this last costly treaty, the interview, + That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass + Did break i' the rinsing. + +NORFOLK Faith, and so it did. + +BUCKINGHAM Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal + The articles o' the combination drew + As himself pleased; and they were ratified + As he cried 'Thus let be': to as much end + As give a crutch to the dead: but our count-cardinal + Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey, + Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,-- + Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy + To the old dam, treason,--Charles the emperor, + Under pretence to see the queen his aunt-- + For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came + To whisper Wolsey,--here makes visitation: + His fears were, that the interview betwixt + England and France might, through their amity, + Breed him some prejudice; for from this league + Peep'd harms that menaced him: he privily + Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,-- + Which I do well; for I am sure the emperor + Paid ere he promised; whereby his suit was granted + Ere it was ask'd; but when the way was made, + And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired, + That he would please to alter the king's course, + And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know, + As soon he shall by me, that thus the cardinal + Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, + And for his own advantage. + +NORFOLK I am sorry + To hear this of him; and could wish he were + Something mistaken in't. + +BUCKINGHAM No, not a syllable: + I do pronounce him in that very shape + He shall appear in proof. + + [Enter BRANDON, a Sergeant-at-arms before him, and + two or three of the Guard] + +BRANDON Your office, sergeant; execute it. + +Sergeant Sir, + My lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earl + Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I + Arrest thee of high treason, in the name + Of our most sovereign king. + +BUCKINGHAM Lo, you, my lord, + The net has fall'n upon me! I shall perish + Under device and practise. + +BRANDON I am sorry + To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on + The business present: 'tis his highness' pleasure + You shall to the Tower. + +BUCKINGHAM It will help me nothing + To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me + Which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven + Be done in this and all things! I obey. + O my Lord Abergavenny, fare you well! + +BRANDON Nay, he must bear you company. The king + + [To ABERGAVENNY] + + Is pleased you shall to the Tower, till you know + How he determines further. + +ABERGAVENNY As the duke said, + The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure + By me obey'd! + +BRANDON Here is a warrant from + The king to attach Lord Montacute; and the bodies + Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car, + One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor-- + +BUCKINGHAM So, so; + These are the limbs o' the plot: no more, I hope. + +BRANDON A monk o' the Chartreux. + +BUCKINGHAM O, Nicholas Hopkins? + +BRANDON He. + +BUCKINGHAM My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal + Hath show'd him gold; my life is spann'd already: + I am the shadow of poor Buckingham, + Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, + By darkening my clear sun. My lord, farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. The council-chamber. + + + [Cornets. Enter KING HENRY VIII, leaning on + CARDINAL WOLSEY's shoulder, the Nobles, and LOVELL; + CARDINAL WOLSEY places himself under KING HENRY + VIII's feet on his right side] + +KING HENRY VIII My life itself, and the best heart of it, + Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level + Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks + To you that choked it. Let be call'd before us + That gentleman of Buckingham's; in person + I'll hear him his confessions justify; + And point by point the treasons of his master + He shall again relate. + + [A noise within, crying 'Room for the Queen!' Enter + QUEEN KATHARINE, ushered by NORFOLK, and SUFFOLK: + she kneels. KING HENRY VIII riseth from his state, + takes her up, kisses and placeth her by him] + +QUEEN KATHARINE Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a suitor. + +KING HENRY VIII Arise, and take place by us: half your suit + Never name to us; you have half our power: + The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; + Repeat your will and take it. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Thank your majesty. + That you would love yourself, and in that love + Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor + The dignity of your office, is the point + Of my petition. + +KING HENRY VIII Lady mine, proceed. + +QUEEN KATHARINE I am solicited, not by a few, + And those of true condition, that your subjects + Are in great grievance: there have been commissions + Sent down among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart + Of all their loyalties: wherein, although, + My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches + Most bitterly on you, as putter on + Of these exactions, yet the king our master-- + Whose honour heaven shield from soil!--even he + escapes not + Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks + The sides of loyalty, and almost appears + In loud rebellion. + +NORFOLK Not almost appears, + It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, + The clothiers all, not able to maintain + The many to them longing, have put off + The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, + Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger + And lack of other means, in desperate manner + Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, + And danger serves among then! + +KING HENRY VIII Taxation! + Wherein? and what taxation? My lord cardinal, + You that are blamed for it alike with us, + Know you of this taxation? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Please you, sir, + I know but of a single part, in aught + Pertains to the state; and front but in that file + Where others tell steps with me. + +QUEEN KATHARINE No, my lord, + You know no more than others; but you frame + Things that are known alike; which are not wholesome + To those which would not know them, and yet must + Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions, + Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are + Most pestilent to the bearing; and, to bear 'em, + The back is sacrifice to the load. They say + They are devised by you; or else you suffer + Too hard an exclamation. + +KING HENRY VIII Still exaction! + The nature of it? in what kind, let's know, + Is this exaction? + +QUEEN KATHARINE I am much too venturous + In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd + Under your promised pardon. The subjects' grief + Comes through commissions, which compel from each + The sixth part of his substance, to be levied + Without delay; and the pretence for this + Is named, your wars in France: this makes bold mouths: + Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze + Allegiance in them; their curses now + Live where their prayers did: and it's come to pass, + This tractable obedience is a slave + To each incensed will. I would your highness + Would give it quick consideration, for + There is no primer business. + +KING HENRY VIII By my life, + This is against our pleasure. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY And for me, + I have no further gone in this than by + A single voice; and that not pass'd me but + By learned approbation of the judges. If I am + Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know + My faculties nor person, yet will be + The chronicles of my doing, let me say + 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake + That virtue must go through. We must not stint + Our necessary actions, in the fear + To cope malicious censurers; which ever, + As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow + That is new-trimm'd, but benefit no further + Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, + By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is + Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft, + Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up + For our best act. If we shall stand still, + In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, + We should take root here where we sit, or sit + State-statues only. + +KING HENRY VIII Things done well, + And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; + Things done without example, in their issue + Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent + Of this commission? I believe, not any. + We must not rend our subjects from our laws, + And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? + A trembling contribution! Why, we take + From every tree lop, bark, and part o' the timber; + And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, + The air will drink the sap. To every county + Where this is question'd send our letters, with + Free pardon to each man that has denied + The force of this commission: pray, look to't; + I put it to your care. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY A word with you. + + [To the Secretary] + + Let there be letters writ to every shire, + Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved commons + Hardly conceive of me; let it be noised + That through our intercession this revokement + And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you + Further in the proceeding. + + [Exit Secretary] + + [Enter Surveyor] + +QUEEN KATHARINE I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham + Is run in your displeasure. + +KING HENRY VIII It grieves many: + The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker; + To nature none more bound; his training such, + That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, + And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, + When these so noble benefits shall prove + Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, + They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly + Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, + Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, + Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find + His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, + Hath into monstrous habits put the graces + That once were his, and is become as black + As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear-- + This was his gentleman in trust--of him + Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount + The fore-recited practises; whereof + We cannot feel too little, hear too much. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, + Most like a careful subject, have collected + Out of the Duke of Buckingham. + +KING HENRY VIII Speak freely. + +Surveyor First, it was usual with him, every day + It would infect his speech, that if the king + Should without issue die, he'll carry it so + To make the sceptre his: these very words + I've heard him utter to his son-in-law, + Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced + Revenge upon the cardinal. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Please your highness, note + This dangerous conception in this point. + Not friended by by his wish, to your high person + His will is most malignant; and it stretches + Beyond you, to your friends. + +QUEEN KATHARINE My learn'd lord cardinal, + Deliver all with charity. + +KING HENRY VIII Speak on: + How grounded he his title to the crown, + Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him + At any time speak aught? + +Surveyor He was brought to this + By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. + +KING HENRY VIII What was that Hopkins? + +Surveyor Sir, a Chartreux friar, + His confessor, who fed him every minute + With words of sovereignty. + +KING HENRY VIII How know'st thou this? + +Surveyor Not long before your highness sped to France, + The duke being at the Rose, within the parish + Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand + What was the speech among the Londoners + Concerning the French journey: I replied, + Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious, + To the king's danger. Presently the duke + Said, 'twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted + 'Twould prove the verity of certain words + Spoke by a holy monk; 'that oft,' says he, + 'Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit + John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour + To hear from him a matter of some moment: + Whom after under the confession's seal + He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke + My chaplain to no creature living, but + To me, should utter, with demure confidence + This pausingly ensued: neither the king nor's heirs, + Tell you the duke, shall prosper: bid him strive + To gain the love o' the commonalty: the duke + Shall govern England.' + +QUEEN KATHARINE If I know you well, + You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office + On the complaint o' the tenants: take good heed + You charge not in your spleen a noble person + And spoil your nobler soul: I say, take heed; + Yes, heartily beseech you. + +KING HENRY VIII Let him on. + Go forward. + +Surveyor On my soul, I'll speak but truth. + I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions + The monk might be deceived; and that 'twas dangerous for him + To ruminate on this so far, until + It forged him some design, which, being believed, + It was much like to do: he answer'd, 'Tush, + It can do me no damage;' adding further, + That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd, + The cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads + Should have gone off. + +KING HENRY VIII Ha! what, so rank? Ah ha! + There's mischief in this man: canst thou say further? + +Surveyor I can, my liege. + +KING HENRY VIII Proceed. + +Surveyor Being at Greenwich, + After your highness had reproved the duke + About Sir William Blomer,-- + +KING HENRY VIII I remember + Of such a time: being my sworn servant, + The duke retain'd him his. But on; what hence? + +Surveyor 'If,' quoth he, 'I for this had been committed, + As, to the Tower, I thought, I would have play'd + The part my father meant to act upon + The usurper Richard; who, being at Salisbury, + Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted, + As he made semblance of his duty, would + Have put his knife to him.' + +KING HENRY VIII A giant traitor! + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, + and this man out of prison? + +QUEEN KATHARINE God mend all! + +KING HENRY VIII There's something more would out of thee; what say'st? + +Surveyor After 'the duke his father,' with 'the knife,' + He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, + Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes + He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenor + Was,--were he evil used, he would outgo + His father by as much as a performance + Does an irresolute purpose. + +KING HENRY VIII There's his period, + To sheathe his knife in us. He is attach'd; + Call him to present trial: if he may + Find mercy in the law, 'tis his: if none, + Let him not seek 't of us: by day and night, + He's traitor to the height. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III An ante-chamber in the palace. + + + [Enter Chamberlain and SANDS] + +Chamberlain Is't possible the spells of France should juggle + Men into such strange mysteries? + +SANDS New customs, + Though they be never so ridiculous, + Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. + +Chamberlain As far as I see, all the good our English + Have got by the late voyage is but merely + A fit or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones; + For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly + Their very noses had been counsellors + To Pepin or Clotharius, they keep state so. + +SANDS They have all new legs, and lame ones: one would take it, + That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin + Or springhalt reign'd among 'em. + +Chamberlain Death! my lord, + Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, + That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. + + [Enter LOVELL] + + How now! + What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? + +LOVELL Faith, my lord, + I hear of none, but the new proclamation + That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. + +Chamberlain What is't for? + +LOVELL The reformation of our travell'd gallants, + That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. + +Chamberlain I'm glad 'tis there: now I would pray our monsieurs + To think an English courtier may be wise, + And never see the Louvre. + +LOVELL They must either, + For so run the conditions, leave those remnants + Of fool and feather that they got in France, + With all their honourable point of ignorance + Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks, + Abusing better men than they can be, + Out of a foreign wisdom, renouncing clean + The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, + Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, + And understand again like honest men; + Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, + They may, 'cum privilegio,' wear away + The lag end of their lewdness and be laugh'd at. + +SANDS 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases + Are grown so catching. + +Chamberlain What a loss our ladies + Will have of these trim vanities! + +LOVELL Ay, marry, + There will be woe indeed, lords: the sly whoresons + Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies; + A French song and a fiddle has no fellow. + +SANDS The devil fiddle 'em! I am glad they are going, + For, sure, there's no converting of 'em: now + An honest country lord, as I am, beaten + A long time out of play, may bring his plainsong + And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r lady, + Held current music too. + +Chamberlain Well said, Lord Sands; + Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. + +SANDS No, my lord; + Nor shall not, while I have a stump. + +Chamberlain Sir Thomas, + Whither were you a-going? + +LOVELL To the cardinal's: + Your lordship is a guest too. + +Chamberlain O, 'tis true: + This night he makes a supper, and a great one, + To many lords and ladies; there will be + The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. + +LOVELL That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, + A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; + His dews fall every where. + +Chamberlain No doubt he's noble; + He had a black mouth that said other of him. + +SANDS He may, my lord; has wherewithal: in him + Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: + Men of his way should be most liberal; + They are set here for examples. + +Chamberlain True, they are so: + But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; + Your lordship shall along. Come, good Sir Thomas, + We shall be late else; which I would not be, + For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford + This night to be comptrollers. + +SANDS I am your lordship's. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV A Hall in York Place. + + + [Hautboys. A small table under a state for CARDINAL + WOLSEY, a longer table for the guests. Then enter + ANNE and divers other Ladies and Gentlemen as + guests, at one door; at another door, enter + GUILDFORD] + +GUILDFORD Ladies, a general welcome from his grace + Salutes ye all; this night he dedicates + To fair content and you: none here, he hopes, + In all this noble bevy, has brought with her + One care abroad; he would have all as merry + As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome, + Can make good people. O, my lord, you're tardy: + + [Enter Chamberlain, SANDS, and LOVELL] + + The very thought of this fair company + Clapp'd wings to me. + +Chamberlain You are young, Sir Harry Guildford. + +SANDS Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal + But half my lay thoughts in him, some of these + Should find a running banquet ere they rested, + I think would better please 'em: by my life, + They are a sweet society of fair ones. + +LOVELL O, that your lordship were but now confessor + To one or two of these! + +SANDS I would I were; + They should find easy penance. + +LOVELL Faith, how easy? + +SANDS As easy as a down-bed would afford it. + +Chamberlain Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, + Place you that side; I'll take the charge of this: + His grace is entering. Nay, you must not freeze; + Two women placed together makes cold weather: + My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking; + Pray, sit between these ladies. + +SANDS By my faith, + And thank your lordship. By your leave, sweet ladies: + If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; + I had it from my father. + +ANNE Was he mad, sir? + +SANDS O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too: + But he would bite none; just as I do now, + He would kiss you twenty with a breath. + + [Kisses her] + +Chamberlain Well said, my lord. + So, now you're fairly seated. Gentlemen, + The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies + Pass away frowning. + +SANDS For my little cure, + Let me alone. + + [Hautboys. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, and takes his state] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY You're welcome, my fair guests: that noble lady, + Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, + Is not my friend: this, to confirm my welcome; + And to you all, good health. + + [Drinks] + +SANDS Your grace is noble: + Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, + And save me so much talking. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY My Lord Sands, + I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours. + Ladies, you are not merry: gentlemen, + Whose fault is this? + +SANDS The red wine first must rise + In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have 'em + Talk us to silence. + +ANNE You are a merry gamester, + My Lord Sands. + +SANDS Yes, if I make my play. + Here's to your ladyship: and pledge it, madam, + For 'tis to such a thing,-- + +ANNE You cannot show me. + +SANDS I told your grace they would talk anon. + + [Drum and trumpet, chambers discharged] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY What's that? + +Chamberlain Look out there, some of ye. + + [Exit Servant] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY What warlike voice, + And to what end is this? Nay, ladies, fear not; + By all the laws of war you're privileged. + + [Re-enter Servant] + +Chamberlain How now! what is't? + +Servant A noble troop of strangers; + For so they seem: they've left their barge and landed; + And hither make, as great ambassadors + From foreign princes. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Good lord chamberlain, + Go, give 'em welcome; you can speak the French tongue; + And, pray, receive 'em nobly, and conduct 'em + Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty + Shall shine at full upon them. Some attend him. + + [Exit Chamberlain, attended. All rise, and tables removed] + + You have now a broken banquet; but we'll mend it. + A good digestion to you all: and once more + I shower a welcome on ye; welcome all. + + [Hautboys. Enter KING HENRY VIII and others, as + masquers, habited like shepherds, ushered by the + Chamberlain. They pass directly before CARDINAL + WOLSEY, and gracefully salute him] + + A noble company! what are their pleasures? + +Chamberlain Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd + To tell your grace, that, having heard by fame + Of this so noble and so fair assembly + This night to meet here, they could do no less + Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, + But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct, + Crave leave to view these ladies and entreat + An hour of revels with 'em. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Say, lord chamberlain, + They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay 'em + A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleasures. + + [They choose Ladies for the dance. KING HENRY VIII + chooses ANNE] + +KING HENRY VIII The fairest hand I ever touch'd! O beauty, + Till now I never knew thee! + + [Music. Dance] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY My lord! + +Chamberlain Your grace? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Pray, tell 'em thus much from me: + There should be one amongst 'em, by his person, + More worthy this place than myself; to whom, + If I but knew him, with my love and duty + I would surrender it. + +Chamberlain I will, my lord. + + [Whispers the Masquers] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY What say they? + +Chamberlain Such a one, they all confess, + There is indeed; which they would have your grace + Find out, and he will take it. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Let me see, then. + By all your good leaves, gentlemen; here I'll make + My royal choice. + +KING HENRY VIII Ye have found him, cardinal: + + [Unmasking] + + You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord: + You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, + I should judge now unhappily. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY I am glad + Your grace is grown so pleasant. + +KING HENRY VIII My lord chamberlain, + Prithee, come hither: what fair lady's that? + +Chamberlain An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter-- + The Viscount Rochford,--one of her highness' women. + +KING HENRY VIII By heaven, she is a dainty one. Sweetheart, + I were unmannerly, to take you out, + And not to kiss you. A health, gentlemen! + Let it go round. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready + I' the privy chamber? + +LOVELL Yes, my lord. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Your grace, + I fear, with dancing is a little heated. + +KING HENRY VIII I fear, too much. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY There's fresher air, my lord, + In the next chamber. + +KING HENRY VIII Lead in your ladies, every one: sweet partner, + I must not yet forsake you: let's be merry: + Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths + To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure + To lead 'em once again; and then let's dream + Who's best in favour. Let the music knock it. + + [Exeunt with trumpets] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Westminster. A street. + + + [Enter two Gentlemen, meeting] + +First Gentleman Whither away so fast? + +Second Gentleman O, God save ye! + Even to the hall, to hear what shall become + Of the great Duke of Buckingham. + +First Gentleman I'll save you + That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony + Of bringing back the prisoner. + +Second Gentleman Were you there? + +First Gentleman Yes, indeed, was I. + +Second Gentleman Pray, speak what has happen'd. + +First Gentleman You may guess quickly what. + +Second Gentleman Is he found guilty? + +First Gentleman Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon't. + +Second Gentleman I am sorry for't. + +First Gentleman So are a number more. + +Second Gentleman But, pray, how pass'd it? + +First Gentleman I'll tell you in a little. The great duke + Came to the bar; where to his accusations + He pleaded still not guilty and alleged + Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. + The king's attorney on the contrary + Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessions + Of divers witnesses; which the duke desired + To have brought viva voce to his face: + At which appear'd against him his surveyor; + Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Car, + Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, + Hopkins, that made this mischief. + +Second Gentleman That was he + That fed him with his prophecies? + +First Gentleman The same. + All these accused him strongly; which he fain + Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: + And so his peers, upon this evidence, + Have found him guilty of high treason. Much + He spoke, and learnedly, for life; but all + Was either pitied in him or forgotten. + +Second Gentleman After all this, how did he bear himself? + +First Gentleman When he was brought again to the bar, to hear + His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd + With such an agony, he sweat extremely, + And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty: + But he fell to himself again, and sweetly + In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. + +Second Gentleman I do not think he fears death. + +First Gentleman Sure, he does not: + He never was so womanish; the cause + He may a little grieve at. + +Second Gentleman Certainly + The cardinal is the end of this. + +First Gentleman 'Tis likely, + By all conjectures: first, Kildare's attainder, + Then deputy of Ireland; who removed, + Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, + Lest he should help his father. + +Second Gentleman That trick of state + Was a deep envious one. + +First Gentleman At his return + No doubt he will requite it. This is noted, + And generally, whoever the king favours, + The cardinal instantly will find employment, + And far enough from court too. + +Second Gentleman All the commons + Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, + Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much + They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buckingham, + The mirror of all courtesy;-- + +First Gentleman Stay there, sir, + And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM from his arraignment; tip-staves + before him; the axe with the edge towards him; + halberds on each side: accompanied with LOVELL, + VAUX, SANDS, and common people] + +Second Gentleman Let's stand close, and behold him. + +BUCKINGHAM All good people, + You that thus far have come to pity me, + Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. + I have this day received a traitor's judgment, + And by that name must die: yet, heaven bear witness, + And if I have a conscience, let it sink me, + Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! + The law I bear no malice for my death; + 'T has done, upon the premises, but justice: + But those that sought it I could wish more Christians: + Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em: + Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief, + Nor build their evils on the graves of great men; + For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em. + For further life in this world I ne'er hope, + Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies + More than I dare make faults. You few that loved me, + And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, + His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave + Is only bitter to him, only dying, + Go with me, like good angels, to my end; + And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, + Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, + And lift my soul to heaven. Lead on, o' God's name. + +LOVELL I do beseech your grace, for charity, + If ever any malice in your heart + Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. + +BUCKINGHAM Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you + As I would be forgiven: I forgive all; + There cannot be those numberless offences + 'Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: + no black envy + Shall mark my grave. Commend me to his grace; + And if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him + You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers + Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake, + Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live + Longer than I have time to tell his years! + Ever beloved and loving may his rule be! + And when old time shall lead him to his end, + Goodness and he fill up one monument! + +LOVELL To the water side I must conduct your grace; + Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, + Who undertakes you to your end. + +VAUX Prepare there, + The duke is coming: see the barge be ready; + And fit it with such furniture as suits + The greatness of his person. + +BUCKINGHAM Nay, Sir Nicholas, + Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. + When I came hither, I was lord high constable + And Duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun: + Yet I am richer than my base accusers, + That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it; + And with that blood will make 'em one day groan for't. + My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, + Who first raised head against usurping Richard, + Flying for succor to his servant Banister, + Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd, + And without trial fell; God's peace be with him! + Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying + My father's loss, like a most royal prince, + Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins, + Made my name once more noble. Now his son, + Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name and all + That made me happy at one stroke has taken + For ever from the world. I had my trial, + And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me, + A little happier than my wretched father: + Yet thus far we are one in fortunes: both + Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most; + A most unnatural and faithless service! + Heaven has an end in all: yet, you that hear me, + This from a dying man receive as certain: + Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels + Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends + And give your hearts to, when they once perceive + The least rub in your fortunes, fall away + Like water from ye, never found again + But where they mean to sink ye. All good people, + Pray for me! I must now forsake ye: the last hour + Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell: + And when you would say something that is sad, + Speak how I fell. I have done; and God forgive me! + + [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train] + +First Gentleman O, this is full of pity! Sir, it calls, + I fear, too many curses on their beads + That were the authors. + +Second Gentleman If the duke be guiltless, + 'Tis full of woe: yet I can give you inkling + Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, + Greater than this. + +First Gentleman Good angels keep it from us! + What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? + +Second Gentleman This secret is so weighty, 'twill require + A strong faith to conceal it. + +First Gentleman Let me have it; + I do not talk much. + +Second Gentleman I am confident, + You shall, sir: did you not of late days hear + A buzzing of a separation + Between the king and Katharine? + +First Gentleman Yes, but it held not: + For when the king once heard it, out of anger + He sent command to the lord mayor straight + To stop the rumor, and allay those tongues + That durst disperse it. + +Second Gentleman But that slander, sir, + Is found a truth now: for it grows again + Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain + The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal, + Or some about him near, have, out of malice + To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple + That will undo her: to confirm this too, + Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately; + As all think, for this business. + +First Gentleman 'Tis the cardinal; + And merely to revenge him on the emperor + For not bestowing on him, at his asking, + The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed. + +Second Gentleman I think you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel + That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal + Will have his will, and she must fall. + +First Gentleman 'Tis woful. + We are too open here to argue this; + Let's think in private more. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II An ante-chamber in the palace. + + + [Enter Chamberlain, reading a letter] + +Chamberlain 'My lord, the horses your lordship sent for, with + all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and + furnished. They were young and handsome, and of the + best breed in the north. When they were ready to + set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by + commission and main power, took 'em from me; with + this reason: His master would be served before a + subject, if not before the king; which stopped our + mouths, sir.' + I fear he will indeed: well, let him have them: + He will have all, I think. + + [Enter, to Chamberlain, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK] + +NORFOLK Well met, my lord chamberlain. + +Chamberlain Good day to both your graces. + +SUFFOLK How is the king employ'd? + +Chamberlain I left him private, + Full of sad thoughts and troubles. + +NORFOLK What's the cause? + +Chamberlain It seems the marriage with his brother's wife + Has crept too near his conscience. + +SUFFOLK No, his conscience + Has crept too near another lady. + +NORFOLK 'Tis so: + This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal: + That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, + Turns what he list. The king will know him one day. + +SUFFOLK Pray God he do! he'll never know himself else. + +NORFOLK How holily he works in all his business! + And with what zeal! for, now he has crack'd the league + Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew, + He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters + Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, + Fears, and despairs; and all these for his marriage: + And out of all these to restore the king, + He counsels a divorce; a loss of her + That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years + About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; + Of her that loves him with that excellence + That angels love good men with; even of her + That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, + Will bless the king: and is not this course pious? + +Chamberlain Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true + These news are every where; every tongue speaks 'em, + And every true heart weeps for't: all that dare + Look into these affairs see this main end, + The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open + The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon + This bold bad man. + +SUFFOLK And free us from his slavery. + +NORFOLK We had need pray, + And heartily, for our deliverance; + Or this imperious man will work us all + From princes into pages: all men's honours + Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd + Into what pitch he please. + +SUFFOLK For me, my lords, + I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed: + As I am made without him, so I'll stand, + If the king please; his curses and his blessings + Touch me alike, they're breath I not believe in. + I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him + To him that made him proud, the pope. + +NORFOLK Let's in; + And with some other business put the king + From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him: + My lord, you'll bear us company? + +Chamberlain Excuse me; + The king has sent me otherwhere: besides, + You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: + Health to your lordships. + +NORFOLK Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. + + [Exit Chamberlain; and KING HENRY VIII draws the + curtain, and sits reading pensively] + +SUFFOLK How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted. + +KING HENRY VIII Who's there, ha? + +NORFOLK Pray God he be not angry. + +KING HENRY VIII Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves + Into my private meditations? + Who am I? ha? + +NORFOLK A gracious king that pardons all offences + Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty this way + Is business of estate; in which we come + To know your royal pleasure. + +KING HENRY VIII Ye are too bold: + Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business: + Is this an hour for temporal affairs, ha? + + [Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS, with + a commission] + + Who's there? my good lord cardinal? O my Wolsey, + The quiet of my wounded conscience; + Thou art a cure fit for a king. + + [To CARDINAL CAMPEIUS] + + You're welcome, + Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom: + Use us and it. + + [To CARDINAL WOLSEY] + + My good lord, have great care + I be not found a talker. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Sir, you cannot. + I would your grace would give us but an hour + Of private conference. + +KING HENRY VIII [To NORFOLK and SUFFOLK] + We are busy; go. + +NORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK] + This priest has no pride in him? + +SUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] Not to speak of: + I would not be so sick though for his place: + But this cannot continue. + +NORFOLK [Aside to SUFFOLK] If it do, + I'll venture one have-at-him. + +SUFFOLK [Aside to NORFOLK] I another. + + [Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom + Above all princes, in committing freely + Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: + Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? + The Spaniard, tied blood and favour to her, + Must now confess, if they have any goodness, + The trial just and noble. All the clerks, + I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms + Have their free voices: Rome, the nurse of judgment, + Invited by your noble self, hath sent + One general tongue unto us, this good man, + This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius; + Whom once more I present unto your highness. + +KING HENRY VIII And once more in mine arms I bid him welcome, + And thank the holy conclave for their loves: + They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, + You are so noble. To your highness' hand + I tender my commission; by whose virtue, + The court of Rome commanding, you, my lord + Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant + In the unpartial judging of this business. + +KING HENRY VIII Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted + Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY I know your majesty has always loved her + So dear in heart, not to deny her that + A woman of less place might ask by law: + Scholars allow'd freely to argue for her. + +KING HENRY VIII Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour + To him that does best: God forbid else. Cardinal, + Prithee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary: + I find him a fit fellow. + + [Exit CARDINAL WOLSEY] + + [Re-enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, with GARDINER] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside to GARDINER] Give me your hand much joy and + favour to you; + You are the king's now. + +GARDINER [Aside to CARDINAL WOLSEY] + But to be commanded + For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised me. + +KING HENRY VIII Come hither, Gardiner. + + [Walks and whispers] + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS My Lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace + In this man's place before him? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, he was. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Was he not held a learned man? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Yes, surely. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then + Even of yourself, lord cardinal. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY How! of me? + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS They will not stick to say you envied him, + And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, + Kept him a foreign man still; which so grieved him, + That he ran mad and died. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Heaven's peace be with him! + That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers + There's places of rebuke. He was a fool; + For he would needs be virtuous: that good fellow, + If I command him, follows my appointment: + I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, + We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. + +KING HENRY VIII Deliver this with modesty to the queen. + + [Exit GARDINER] + + The most convenient place that I can think of + For such receipt of learning is Black-Friars; + There ye shall meet about this weighty business. + My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. O, my lord, + Would it not grieve an able man to leave + So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience! + O, 'tis a tender place; and I must leave her. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III An ante-chamber of the QUEEN'S apartments. + + + [Enter ANNE and an Old Lady] + +ANNE Not for that neither: here's the pang that pinches: + His highness having lived so long with her, and she + So good a lady that no tongue could ever + Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, + She never knew harm-doing: O, now, after + So many courses of the sun enthroned, + Still growing in a majesty and pomp, the which + To leave a thousand-fold more bitter than + 'Tis sweet at first to acquire,--after this process, + To give her the avaunt! it is a pity + Would move a monster. + +Old Lady Hearts of most hard temper + Melt and lament for her. + +ANNE O, God's will! much better + She ne'er had known pomp: though't be temporal, + Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce + It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance panging + As soul and body's severing. + +Old Lady Alas, poor lady! + She's a stranger now again. + +ANNE So much the more + Must pity drop upon her. Verily, + I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + +Old Lady Our content + Is our best having. + +ANNE By my troth and maidenhead, + I would not be a queen. + +Old Lady Beshrew me, I would, + And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you, + For all this spice of your hypocrisy: + You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, + Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet + Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; + Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifts, + Saving your mincing, the capacity + Of your soft cheveril conscience would receive, + If you might please to stretch it. + +ANNE Nay, good troth. + +Old Lady Yes, troth, and troth; you would not be a queen? + +ANNE No, not for all the riches under heaven. + +Old Lady: 'Tis strange: a three-pence bow'd would hire me, + Old as I am, to queen it: but, I pray you, + What think you of a duchess? have you limbs + To bear that load of title? + +ANNE No, in truth. + +Old Lady Then you are weakly made: pluck off a little; + I would not be a young count in your way, + For more than blushing comes to: if your back + Cannot vouchsafe this burthen,'tis too weak + Ever to get a boy. + +ANNE How you do talk! + I swear again, I would not be a queen + For all the world. + +Old Lady In faith, for little England + You'ld venture an emballing: I myself + Would for Carnarvonshire, although there long'd + No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here? + + [Enter Chamberlain] + +Chamberlain Good morrow, ladies. What were't worth to know + The secret of your conference? + +ANNE My good lord, + Not your demand; it values not your asking: + Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying. + +Chamberlain It was a gentle business, and becoming + The action of good women: there is hope + All will be well. + +ANNE Now, I pray God, amen! + +Chamberlain You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings + Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, + Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's + Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty + Commends his good opinion of you, and + Does purpose honour to you no less flowing + Than Marchioness of Pembroke: to which title + A thousand pound a year, annual support, + Out of his grace he adds. + +ANNE I do not know + What kind of my obedience I should tender; + More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers + Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes + More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes + Are all I can return. Beseech your lordship, + Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience, + As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; + Whose health and royalty I pray for. + +Chamberlain Lady, + I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit + The king hath of you. + + [Aside] + + I have perused her well; + Beauty and honour in her are so mingled + That they have caught the king: and who knows yet + But from this lady may proceed a gem + To lighten all this isle? I'll to the king, + And say I spoke with you. + + [Exit Chamberlain] + +ANNE My honour'd lord. + +Old Lady Why, this it is; see, see! + I have been begging sixteen years in court, + Am yet a courtier beggarly, nor could + Come pat betwixt too early and too late + For any suit of pounds; and you, O fate! + A very fresh-fish here--fie, fie, fie upon + This compell'd fortune!--have your mouth fill'd up + Before you open it. + +ANNE This is strange to me. + +Old Lady How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. + There was a lady once, 'tis an old story, + That would not be a queen, that would she not, + For all the mud in Egypt: have you heard it? + +ANNE Come, you are pleasant. + +Old Lady With your theme, I could + O'ermount the lark. The Marchioness of Pembroke! + A thousand pounds a year for pure respect! + No other obligation! By my life, + That promises moe thousands: honour's train + Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time + I know your back will bear a duchess: say, + Are you not stronger than you were? + +ANNE Good lady, + Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, + And leave me out on't. Would I had no being, + If this salute my blood a jot: it faints me, + To think what follows. + The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful + In our long absence: pray, do not deliver + What here you've heard to her. + +Old Lady What do you think me? + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV A hall in Black-Friars. + + + [Trumpets, sennet, and cornets. Enter two Vergers, + with short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, in + the habit of doctors; after them, CANTERBURY alone; + after him, LINCOLN, Ely, Rochester, and Saint + Asaph; next them, with some small distance, follows + a Gentleman bearing the purse, with the great seal, + and a cardinal's hat; then two Priests, bearing + each a silver cross; then a Gentleman-usher + bare-headed, accompanied with a Sergeant-at-arms + bearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen bearing + two great silver pillars; after them, side by side, + CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS; two Noblemen + with the sword and mace. KING HENRY VIII takes + place under the cloth of state; CARDINAL WOLSEY and + CARDINAL CAMPEIUS sit under him as judges. QUEEN + KATHARINE takes place some distance from KING + HENRY VIII. The Bishops place themselves on each + side the court, in manner of a consistory; below + them, the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. + The rest of the Attendants stand in convenient + order about the stage] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Whilst our commission from Rome is read, + Let silence be commanded. + +KING HENRY VIII What's the need? + It hath already publicly been read, + And on all sides the authority allow'd; + You may, then, spare that time. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Be't so. Proceed. + +Scribe Say, Henry King of England, come into the court. + +Crier Henry King of England, &c. + +KING HENRY VIII Here. + +Scribe Say, Katharine Queen of England, come into the court. + +Crier Katharine Queen of England, &c. + + [QUEEN KATHARINE makes no answer, rises out of her + chair, goes about the court, comes to KING HENRY + VIII, and kneels at his feet; then speaks] + +QUEEN KATHARINE Sir, I desire you do me right and justice; + And to bestow your pity on me: for + I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, + Born out of your dominions; having here + No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance + Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, + In what have I offended you? what cause + Hath my behavior given to your displeasure, + That thus you should proceed to put me off, + And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, + I have been to you a true and humble wife, + At all times to your will conformable; + Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, + Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry + As I saw it inclined: when was the hour + I ever contradicted your desire, + Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends + Have I not strove to love, although I knew + He were mine enemy? what friend of mine + That had to him derived your anger, did I + Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice + He was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind + That I have been your wife, in this obedience, + Upward of twenty years, and have been blest + With many children by you: if, in the course + And process of this time, you can report, + And prove it too, against mine honour aught, + My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, + Against your sacred person, in God's name, + Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt + Shut door upon me, and so give me up + To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you sir, + The king, your father, was reputed for + A prince most prudent, of an excellent + And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, + My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one + The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many + A year before: it is not to be question'd + That they had gather'd a wise council to them + Of every realm, that did debate this business, + Who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly + Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may + Be by my friends in Spain advised; whose counsel + I will implore: if not, i' the name of God, + Your pleasure be fulfill'd! + +CARDINAL WOLSEY You have here, lady, + And of your choice, these reverend fathers; men + Of singular integrity and learning, + Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled + To plead your cause: it shall be therefore bootless + That longer you desire the court; as well + For your own quiet, as to rectify + What is unsettled in the king. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS His grace + Hath spoken well and justly: therefore, madam, + It's fit this royal session do proceed; + And that, without delay, their arguments + Be now produced and heard. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Lord cardinal, + To you I speak. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Your pleasure, madam? + +QUEEN KATHARINE Sir, + I am about to weep; but, thinking that + We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain + The daughter of a king, my drops of tears + I'll turn to sparks of fire. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Be patient yet. + +QUEEN KATHARINE I will, when you are humble; nay, before, + Or God will punish me. I do believe, + Induced by potent circumstances, that + You are mine enemy, and make my challenge + You shall not be my judge: for it is you + Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me; + Which God's dew quench! Therefore I say again, + I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul + Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more, + I hold my most malicious foe, and think not + At all a friend to truth. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY I do profess + You speak not like yourself; who ever yet + Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects + Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom + O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me wrong: + I have no spleen against you; nor injustice + For you or any: how far I have proceeded, + Or how far further shall, is warranted + By a commission from the consistory, + Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me + That I have blown this coal: I do deny it: + The king is present: if it be known to him + That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, + And worthily, my falsehood! yea, as much + As you have done my truth. If he know + That I am free of your report, he knows + I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him + It lies to cure me: and the cure is, to + Remove these thoughts from you: the which before + His highness shall speak in, I do beseech + You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking + And to say so no more. + +QUEEN KATHARINE My lord, my lord, + I am a simple woman, much too weak + To oppose your cunning. You're meek and + humble-mouth'd; + You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, + With meekness and humility; but your heart + Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. + You have, by fortune and his highness' favours, + Gone slightly o'er low steps and now are mounted + Where powers are your retainers, and your words, + Domestics to you, serve your will as't please + Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, + You tender more your person's honour than + Your high profession spiritual: that again + I do refuse you for my judge; and here, + Before you all, appeal unto the pope, + To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, + And to be judged by him. + + [She curtsies to KING HENRY VIII, and offers to depart] + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS The queen is obstinate, + Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and + Disdainful to be tried by't: 'tis not well. + She's going away. + +KING HENRY VIII Call her again. + +Crier Katharine Queen of England, come into the court. + +GRIFFITH Madam, you are call'd back. + +QUEEN KATHARINE What need you note it? pray you, keep your way: + When you are call'd, return. Now, the Lord help, + They vex me past my patience! Pray you, pass on: + I will not tarry; no, nor ever more + Upon this business my appearance make + In any of their courts. + + [Exeunt QUEEN KATHARINE and her Attendants] + +KING HENRY VIII Go thy ways, Kate: + That man i' the world who shall report he has + A better wife, let him in nought be trusted, + For speaking false in that: thou art, alone, + If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, + Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, + Obeying in commanding, and thy parts + Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out, + The queen of earthly queens: she's noble born; + And, like her true nobility, she has + Carried herself towards me. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Most gracious sir, + In humblest manner I require your highness, + That it shall please you to declare, in hearing + Of all these ears,--for where I am robb'd and bound, + There must I be unloosed, although not there + At once and fully satisfied,--whether ever I + Did broach this business to your highness; or + Laid any scruple in your way, which might + Induce you to the question on't? or ever + Have to you, but with thanks to God for such + A royal lady, spake one the least word that might + Be to the prejudice of her present state, + Or touch of her good person? + +KING HENRY VIII My lord cardinal, + I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, + I free you from't. You are not to be taught + That you have many enemies, that know not + Why they are so, but, like to village-curs, + Bark when their fellows do: by some of these + The queen is put in anger. You're excused: + But will you be more justified? You ever + Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never desired + It to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd, oft, + The passages made toward it: on my honour, + I speak my good lord cardinal to this point, + And thus far clear him. Now, what moved me to't, + I will be bold with time and your attention: + Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; give heed to't: + My conscience first received a tenderness, + Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd + By the Bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador; + Who had been hither sent on the debating + A marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleans and + Our daughter Mary: i' the progress of this business, + Ere a determinate resolution, he, + I mean the bishop, did require a respite; + Wherein he might the king his lord advertise + Whether our daughter were legitimate, + Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, + Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite shook + The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me, + Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble + The region of my breast; which forced such way, + That many mazed considerings did throng + And press'd in with this caution. First, methought + I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had + Commanded nature, that my lady's womb, + If it conceived a male child by me, should + Do no more offices of life to't than + The grave does to the dead; for her male issue + Or died where they were made, or shortly after + This world had air'd them: hence I took a thought, + This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom, + Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not + Be gladded in't by me: then follows, that + I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in + By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me + Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in + The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer + Toward this remedy, whereupon we are + Now present here together: that's to say, + I meant to rectify my conscience,--which + I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,-- + By all the reverend fathers of the land + And doctors learn'd: first I began in private + With you, my Lord of Lincoln; you remember + How under my oppression I did reek, + When I first moved you. + +LINCOLN Very well, my liege. + +KING HENRY VIII I have spoke long: be pleased yourself to say + How far you satisfied me. + +LINCOLN So please your highness, + The question did at first so stagger me, + Bearing a state of mighty moment in't + And consequence of dread, that I committed + The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt; + And did entreat your highness to this course + Which you are running here. + +KING HENRY VIII I then moved you, + My Lord of Canterbury; and got your leave + To make this present summons: unsolicited + I left no reverend person in this court; + But by particular consent proceeded + Under your hands and seals: therefore, go on: + For no dislike i' the world against the person + Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points + Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward: + Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life + And kingly dignity, we are contented + To wear our mortal state to come with her, + Katharine our queen, before the primest creature + That's paragon'd o' the world. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS So please your highness, + The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness + That we adjourn this court till further day: + Meanwhile must be an earnest motion + Made to the queen, to call back her appeal + She intends unto his holiness. + +KING HENRY VIII [Aside] I may perceive + These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor + This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome. + My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, + Prithee, return: with thy approach, I know, + My comfort comes along. Break up the court: + I say, set on. + + [Exeunt in manner as they entered] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I London. QUEEN KATHARINE's apartments. + + + [Enter QUEEN KATHARINE and her Women, as at work] + +QUEEN KATHARINE Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles; + Sing, and disperse 'em, if thou canst: leave working. + [SONG] + + Orpheus with his lute made trees, + And the mountain tops that freeze, + Bow themselves when he did sing: + To his music plants and flowers + Ever sprung; as sun and showers + There had made a lasting spring. + + Every thing that heard him play, + Even the billows of the sea, + Hung their heads, and then lay by. + In sweet music is such art, + Killing care and grief of heart + Fall asleep, or hearing, die. + + [Enter a Gentleman] + +QUEEN KATHARINE How now! + +Gentleman An't please your grace, the two great cardinals + Wait in the presence. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Would they speak with me? + +Gentleman They will'd me say so, madam. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Pray their graces + To come near. + + [Exit Gentleman] + + What can be their business + With me, a poor weak woman, fall'n from favour? + I do not like their coming. Now I think on't, + They should be good men; their affairs as righteous: + But all hoods make not monks. + + [Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CARDINAL CAMPEIUS] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Peace to your highness! + +QUEEN KATHARINE Your graces find me here part of a housewife, + I would be all, against the worst may happen. + What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY May it please you noble madam, to withdraw + Into your private chamber, we shall give you + The full cause of our coming. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Speak it here: + There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, + Deserves a corner: would all other women + Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! + My lords, I care not, so much I am happy + Above a number, if my actions + Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw 'em, + Envy and base opinion set against 'em, + I know my life so even. If your business + Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, + Out with it boldly: truth loves open dealing. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina + serenissima,-- + +QUEEN KATHARINE O, good my lord, no Latin; + I am not such a truant since my coming, + As not to know the language I have lived in: + A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, + suspicious; + Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you, + If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake; + Believe me, she has had much wrong: lord cardinal, + The willing'st sin I ever yet committed + May be absolved in English. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Noble lady, + I am sorry my integrity should breed, + And service to his majesty and you, + So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. + We come not by the way of accusation, + To taint that honour every good tongue blesses, + Nor to betray you any way to sorrow, + You have too much, good lady; but to know + How you stand minded in the weighty difference + Between the king and you; and to deliver, + Like free and honest men, our just opinions + And comforts to your cause. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Most honour'd madam, + My Lord of York, out of his noble nature, + Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace, + Forgetting, like a good man your late censure + Both of his truth and him, which was too far, + Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, + His service and his counsel. + +QUEEN KATHARINE [Aside] To betray me.-- + My lords, I thank you both for your good wills; + Ye speak like honest men; pray God, ye prove so! + But how to make ye suddenly an answer, + In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,-- + More near my life, I fear,--with my weak wit, + And to such men of gravity and learning, + In truth, I know not. I was set at work + Among my maids: full little, God knows, looking + Either for such men or such business. + For her sake that I have been,--for I feel + The last fit of my greatness,--good your graces, + Let me have time and counsel for my cause: + Alas, I am a woman, friendless, hopeless! + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears: + Your hopes and friends are infinite. + +QUEEN KATHARINE In England + But little for my profit: can you think, lords, + That any Englishman dare give me counsel? + Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, + Though he be grown so desperate to be honest, + And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, + They that must weigh out my afflictions, + They that my trust must grow to, live not here: + They are, as all my other comforts, far hence + In mine own country, lords. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS I would your grace + Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. + +QUEEN KATHARINE How, sir? + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Put your main cause into the king's protection; + He's loving and most gracious: 'twill be much + Both for your honour better and your cause; + For if the trial of the law o'ertake ye, + You'll part away disgraced. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY He tells you rightly. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Ye tell me what ye wish for both,--my ruin: + Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye! + Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge + That no king can corrupt. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your rage mistakes us. + +QUEEN KATHARINE The more shame for ye: holy men I thought ye, + Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues; + But cardinal sins and hollow hearts I fear ye: + Mend 'em, for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? + The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady, + A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd? + I will not wish ye half my miseries; + I have more charity: but say, I warn'd ye; + Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once + The burthen of my sorrows fall upon ye. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, this is a mere distraction; + You turn the good we offer into envy. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Ye turn me into nothing: woe upon ye + And all such false professors! would you have me-- + If you have any justice, any pity; + If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits-- + Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? + Alas, has banish'd me his bed already, + His love, too long ago! I am old, my lords, + And all the fellowship I hold now with him + Is only my obedience. What can happen + To me above this wretchedness? all your studies + Make me a curse like this. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Your fears are worse. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Have I lived thus long--let me speak myself, + Since virtue finds no friends--a wife, a true one? + A woman, I dare say without vain-glory, + Never yet branded with suspicion? + Have I with all my full affections + Still met the king? loved him next heaven? + obey'd him? + Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him? + Almost forgot my prayers to content him? + And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. + Bring me a constant woman to her husband, + One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; + And to that woman, when she has done most, + Yet will I add an honour, a great patience. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. + +QUEEN KATHARINE My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, + To give up willingly that noble title + Your master wed me to: nothing but death + Shall e'er divorce my dignities. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Pray, hear me. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Would I had never trod this English earth, + Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! + Ye have angels' faces, but heaven knows your hearts. + What will become of me now, wretched lady! + I am the most unhappy woman living. + Alas, poor wenches, where are now your fortunes! + Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, + No friend, no hope; no kindred weep for me; + Almost no grave allow'd me: like the lily, + That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, + I'll hang my head and perish. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY If your grace + Could but be brought to know our ends are honest, + You'ld feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, + Upon what cause, wrong you? alas, our places, + The way of our profession is against it: + We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow 'em. + For goodness' sake, consider what you do; + How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly + Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. + The hearts of princes kiss obedience, + So much they love it; but to stubborn spirits + They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. + I know you have a gentle, noble temper, + A soul as even as a calm: pray, think us + Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants. + +CARDINAL CAMPEIUS Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues + With these weak women's fears: a noble spirit, + As yours was put into you, ever casts + Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you; + Beware you lose it not: for us, if you please + To trust us in your business, we are ready + To use our utmost studies in your service. + +QUEEN KATHARINE Do what ye will, my lords: and, pray, forgive me, + If I have used myself unmannerly; + You know I am a woman, lacking wit + To make a seemly answer to such persons. + Pray, do my service to his majesty: + He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers + While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, + Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs, + That little thought, when she set footing here, + She should have bought her dignities so dear. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Ante-chamber to KING HENRY VIII's apartment. + + + [Enter NORFOLK, SUFFOLK, SURREY, and Chamberlain] + +NORFOLK If you will now unite in your complaints, + And force them with a constancy, the cardinal + Cannot stand under them: if you omit + The offer of this time, I cannot promise + But that you shall sustain moe new disgraces, + With these you bear already. + +SURREY I am joyful + To meet the least occasion that may give me + Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, + To be revenged on him. + +SUFFOLK Which of the peers + Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least + Strangely neglected? when did he regard + The stamp of nobleness in any person + Out of himself? + +Chamberlain My lords, you speak your pleasures: + What he deserves of you and me I know; + What we can do to him, though now the time + Gives way to us, I much fear. If you cannot + Bar his access to the king, never attempt + Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft + Over the king in's tongue. + +NORFOLK O, fear him not; + His spell in that is out: the king hath found + Matter against him that for ever mars + The honey of his language. No, he's settled, + Not to come off, in his displeasure. + +SURREY Sir, + I should be glad to hear such news as this + Once every hour. + +NORFOLK Believe it, this is true: + In the divorce his contrary proceedings + Are all unfolded wherein he appears + As I would wish mine enemy. + +SURREY How came + His practises to light? + +SUFFOLK Most strangely. + +SURREY O, how, how? + +SUFFOLK The cardinal's letters to the pope miscarried, + And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read, + How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness + To stay the judgment o' the divorce; for if + It did take place, 'I do,' quoth he, 'perceive + My king is tangled in affection to + A creature of the queen's, Lady Anne Bullen.' + +SURREY Has the king this? + +SUFFOLK Believe it. + +SURREY Will this work? + +Chamberlain The king in this perceives him, how he coasts + And hedges his own way. But in this point + All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic + After his patient's death: the king already + Hath married the fair lady. + +SURREY Would he had! + +SUFFOLK May you be happy in your wish, my lord + For, I profess, you have it. + +SURREY Now, all my joy + Trace the conjunction! + +SUFFOLK My amen to't! + +NORFOLK All men's! + +SUFFOLK There's order given for her coronation: + Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left + To some ears unrecounted. But, my lords, + She is a gallant creature, and complete + In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her + Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall + In it be memorised. + +SURREY But, will the king + Digest this letter of the cardinal's? + The Lord forbid! + +NORFOLK Marry, amen! + +SUFFOLK No, no; + There be moe wasps that buzz about his nose + Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius + Is stol'n away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; + Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and + Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, + To second all his plot. I do assure you + The king cried Ha! at this. + +Chamberlain Now, God incense him, + And let him cry Ha! louder! + +NORFOLK But, my lord, + When returns Cranmer? + +SUFFOLK He is return'd in his opinions; which + Have satisfied the king for his divorce, + Together with all famous colleges + Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, + His second marriage shall be publish'd, and + Her coronation. Katharine no more + Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager + And widow to Prince Arthur. + +NORFOLK This same Cranmer's + A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain + In the king's business. + +SUFFOLK He has; and we shall see him + For it an archbishop. + +NORFOLK So I hear. + +SUFFOLK 'Tis so. + The cardinal! + + [Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY and CROMWELL] + +NORFOLK Observe, observe, he's moody. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY The packet, Cromwell. + Gave't you the king? + +CROMWELL To his own hand, in's bedchamber. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Look'd he o' the inside of the paper? + +CROMWELL Presently + He did unseal them: and the first he view'd, + He did it with a serious mind; a heed + Was in his countenance. You he bade + Attend him here this morning. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Is he ready + To come abroad? + +CROMWELL I think, by this he is. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Leave me awhile. + + [Exit CROMWELL] + + [Aside] + + It shall be to the Duchess of Alencon, + The French king's sister: he shall marry her. + Anne Bullen! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him: + There's more in't than fair visage. Bullen! + No, we'll no Bullens. Speedily I wish + To hear from Rome. The Marchioness of Pembroke! + +NORFOLK He's discontented. + +SUFFOLK May be, he hears the king + Does whet his anger to him. + +SURREY Sharp enough, + Lord, for thy justice! + +CARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside] The late queen's gentlewoman, + a knight's daughter, + To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen! + This candle burns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it; + Then out it goes. What though I know her virtuous + And well deserving? yet I know her for + A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to + Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of + Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up + An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one + Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king, + And is his oracle. + +NORFOLK He is vex'd at something. + +SURREY I would 'twere something that would fret the string, + The master-cord on's heart! + + [Enter KING HENRY VIII, reading of a schedule, and LOVELL] + +SUFFOLK The king, the king! + +KING HENRY VIII What piles of wealth hath he accumulated + To his own portion! and what expense by the hour + Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift, + Does he rake this together! Now, my lords, + Saw you the cardinal? + +NORFOLK My lord, we have + Stood here observing him: some strange commotion + Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; + Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, + Then lays his finger on his temple, straight + Springs out into fast gait; then stops again, + Strikes his breast hard, and anon he casts + His eye against the moon: in most strange postures + We have seen him set himself. + +KING HENRY VIII It may well be; + There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning + Papers of state he sent me to peruse, + As I required: and wot you what I found + There,--on my conscience, put unwittingly? + Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing; + The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, + Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which + I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks + Possession of a subject. + +NORFOLK It's heaven's will: + Some spirit put this paper in the packet, + To bless your eye withal. + +KING HENRY VIII If we did think + His contemplation were above the earth, + And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still + Dwell in his musings: but I am afraid + His thinkings are below the moon, not worth + His serious considering. + + [King HENRY VIII takes his seat; whispers LOVELL, + who goes to CARDINAL WOLSEY] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Heaven forgive me! + Ever God bless your highness! + +KING HENRY VIII Good my lord, + You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory + Of your best graces in your mind; the which + You were now running o'er: you have scarce time + To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span + To keep your earthly audit: sure, in that + I deem you an ill husband, and am glad + To have you therein my companion. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Sir, + For holy offices I have a time; a time + To think upon the part of business which + I bear i' the state; and nature does require + Her times of preservation, which perforce + I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, + Must give my tendence to. + +KING HENRY VIII You have said well. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY And ever may your highness yoke together, + As I will lend you cause, my doing well + With my well saying! + +KING HENRY VIII 'Tis well said again; + And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well: + And yet words are no deeds. My father loved you: + His said he did; and with his deed did crown + His word upon you. Since I had my office, + I have kept you next my heart; have not alone + Employ'd you where high profits might come home, + But pared my present havings, to bestow + My bounties upon you. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY [Aside] What should this mean? + +SURREY [Aside] The Lord increase this business! + +KING HENRY VIII Have I not made you, + The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, + If what I now pronounce you have found true: + And, if you may confess it, say withal, + If you are bound to us or no. What say you? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY My sovereign, I confess your royal graces, + Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could + My studied purposes requite; which went + Beyond all man's endeavours: my endeavours + Have ever come too short of my desires, + Yet filed with my abilities: mine own ends + Have been mine so that evermore they pointed + To the good of your most sacred person and + The profit of the state. For your great graces + Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I + Can nothing render but allegiant thanks, + My prayers to heaven for you, my loyalty, + Which ever has and ever shall be growing, + Till death, that winter, kill it. + +KING HENRY VIII Fairly answer'd; + A loyal and obedient subject is + Therein illustrated: the honour of it + Does pay the act of it; as, i' the contrary, + The foulness is the punishment. I presume + That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, + My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more + On you than any; so your hand and heart, + Your brain, and every function of your power, + Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, + As 'twere in love's particular, be more + To me, your friend, than any. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY I do profess + That for your highness' good I ever labour'd + More than mine own; that am, have, and will be-- + Though all the world should crack their duty to you, + And throw it from their soul; though perils did + Abound, as thick as thought could make 'em, and + Appear in forms more horrid,--yet my duty, + As doth a rock against the chiding flood, + Should the approach of this wild river break, + And stand unshaken yours. + +KING HENRY VIII 'Tis nobly spoken: + Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, + For you have seen him open't. Read o'er this; + + [Giving him papers] + + And after, this: and then to breakfast with + What appetite you have. + + [Exit KING HENRY VIII, frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY: + the Nobles throng after him, smiling and whispering] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY What should this mean? + What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? + He parted frowning from me, as if ruin + Leap'd from his eyes: so looks the chafed lion + Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; + Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; + I fear, the story of his anger. 'Tis so; + This paper has undone me: 'tis the account + Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together + For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, + And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence! + Fit for a fool to fall by: what cross devil + Made me put this main secret in the packet + I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? + No new device to beat this from his brains? + I know 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know + A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune + Will bring me off again. What's this? 'To the Pope!' + The letter, as I live, with all the business + I writ to's holiness. Nay then, farewell! + I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; + And, from that full meridian of my glory, + I haste now to my setting: I shall fall + Like a bright exhalation m the evening, + And no man see me more. + + [Re-enter to CARDINAL WOLSEY, NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, SURREY, + and the Chamberlain] + +NORFOLK Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal: who commands you + To render up the great seal presently + Into our hands; and to confine yourself + To Asher House, my Lord of Winchester's, + Till you hear further from his highness. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Stay: + Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry + Authority so weighty. + +SUFFOLK Who dare cross 'em, + Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Till I find more than will or words to do it, + I mean your malice, know, officious lords, + I dare and must deny it. Now I feel + Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, envy: + How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, + As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton + Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! + Follow your envious courses, men of malice; + You have Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt, + In time will find their fit rewards. That seal, + You ask with such a violence, the king, + Mine and your master, with his own hand gave me; + Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, + During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, + Tied it by letters-patents: now, who'll take it? + +SURREY The king, that gave it. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY It must be himself, then. + +SURREY Thou art a proud traitor, priest. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Proud lord, thou liest: + Within these forty hours Surrey durst better + Have burnt that tongue than said so. + +SURREY Thy ambition, + Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land + Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: + The heads of all thy brother cardinals, + With thee and all thy best parts bound together, + Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! + You sent me deputy for Ireland; + Far from his succor, from the king, from all + That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest him; + Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, + Absolved him with an axe. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY This, and all else + This talking lord can lay upon my credit, + I answer is most false. The duke by law + Found his deserts: how innocent I was + From any private malice in his end, + His noble jury and foul cause can witness. + If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you + You have as little honesty as honour, + That in the way of loyalty and truth + Toward the king, my ever royal master, + Dare mate a sounder man than Surrey can be, + And all that love his follies. + +SURREY By my soul, + Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou + shouldst feel + My sword i' the life-blood of thee else. My lords, + Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? + And from this fellow? if we live thus tamely, + To be thus jaded by a piece of scarlet, + Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward, + And dare us with his cap like larks. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY All goodness + Is poison to thy stomach. + +SURREY Yes, that goodness + Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, + Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; + The goodness of your intercepted packets + You writ to the pope against the king: your goodness, + Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. + My Lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble, + As you respect the common good, the state + Of our despised nobility, our issues, + Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, + Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles + Collected from his life. I'll startle you + Worse than the scaring bell, when the brown wench + Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY How much, methinks, I could despise this man, + But that I am bound in charity against it! + +NORFOLK Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand: + But, thus much, they are foul ones. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY So much fairer + And spotless shall mine innocence arise, + When the king knows my truth. + +SURREY This cannot save you: + I thank my memory, I yet remember + Some of these articles; and out they shall. + Now, if you can blush and cry 'guilty,' cardinal, + You'll show a little honesty. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Speak on, sir; + I dare your worst objections: if I blush, + It is to see a nobleman want manners. + +SURREY I had rather want those than my head. Have at you! + First, that, without the king's assent or knowledge, + You wrought to be a legate; by which power + You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. + +NORFOLK Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else + To foreign princes, 'Ego et Rex meus' + Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king + To be your servant. + +SUFFOLK Then that, without the knowledge + Either of king or council, when you went + Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold + To carry into Flanders the great seal. + +SURREY Item, you sent a large commission + To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude, + Without the king's will or the state's allowance, + A league between his highness and Ferrara. + +SUFFOLK That, out of mere ambition, you have caused + Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. + +SURREY Then that you have sent innumerable substance-- + By what means got, I leave to your own conscience-- + To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways + You have for dignities; to the mere undoing + Of all the kingdom. Many more there are; + Which, since they are of you, and odious, + I will not taint my mouth with. + +Chamberlain O my lord, + Press not a falling man too far! 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him + So little of his great self. + +SURREY I forgive him. + +SUFFOLK Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is, + Because all those things you have done of late, + By your power legatine, within this kingdom, + Fall into the compass of a praemunire, + That therefore such a writ be sued against you; + To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, + Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be + Out of the king's protection. This is my charge. + +NORFOLK And so we'll leave you to your meditations + How to live better. For your stubborn answer + About the giving back the great seal to us, + The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank you. + So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal. + + [Exeunt all but CARDINAL WOLSEY] + +CARDINAL WOLSEY So farewell to the little good you bear me. + Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; + The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, + And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, + Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, + This many summers in a sea of glory, + But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride + At length broke under me and now has left me, + Weary and old with service, to the mercy + Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. + Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: + I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched + Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! + There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, + That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, + More pangs and fears than wars or women have: + And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, + Never to hope again. + + [Enter CROMWELL, and stands amazed] + + Why, how now, Cromwell! + +CROMWELL I have no power to speak, sir. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY What, amazed + At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder + A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, + I am fall'n indeed. + +CROMWELL How does your grace? + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Why, well; + Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, + I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, + These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken + A load would sink a navy, too much honour: + O, 'tis a burthen, Cromwell, 'tis a burthen + Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven! + +CROMWELL I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, + Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, + To endure more miseries and greater far + Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. + What news abroad? + +CROMWELL The heaviest and the worst + Is your displeasure with the king. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY God bless him! + +CROMWELL The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen + Lord chancellor in your place. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY That's somewhat sudden: + But he's a learned man. May he continue + Long in his highness' favour, and do justice + For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones, + When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, + May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on em! What more? + +CROMWELL That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, + Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY That's news indeed. + +CROMWELL Last, that the Lady Anne, + Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, + This day was view'd in open as his queen, + Going to chapel; and the voice is now + Only about her coronation. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, + The king has gone beyond me: all my glories + In that one woman I have lost for ever: + No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, + Or gild again the noble troops that waited + Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; + I am a poor fall'n man, unworthy now + To be thy lord and master: seek the king; + That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him + What and how true thou art: he will advance thee; + Some little memory of me will stir him-- + I know his noble nature--not to let + Thy hopeful service perish too: good Cromwell, + Neglect him not; make use now, and provide + For thine own future safety. + +CROMWELL O my lord, + Must I, then, leave you? must I needs forego + So good, so noble and so true a master? + Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, + With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. + The king shall have my service: but my prayers + For ever and for ever shall be yours. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear + In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, + Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. + Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; + And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, + And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention + Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee, + Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, + And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, + Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; + A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. + Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. + Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: + By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? + Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: + Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, + O Cromwell, + Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king; + And,--prithee, lead me in: + There take an inventory of all I have, + To the last penny; 'tis the king's: my robe, + And my integrity to heaven, is all + I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! + Had I but served my God with half the zeal + I served my king, he would not in mine age + Have left me naked to mine enemies. + +CROMWELL Good sir, have patience. + +CARDINAL WOLSEY So I have. Farewell + The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A street in Westminster. + + + [Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another] + +First Gentleman You're well met once again. + +Second Gentleman So are you. + +First Gentleman You come to take your stand here, and behold + The Lady Anne pass from her coronation? + +Second Gentleman 'Tis all my business. At our last encounter, + The Duke of Buckingham came from his trial. + +First Gentleman 'Tis very true: but that time offer'd sorrow; + This, general joy. + +Second Gentleman 'Tis well: the citizens, + I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds-- + As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward-- + In celebration of this day with shows, + Pageants and sights of honour. + +First Gentleman Never greater, + Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. + +Second Gentleman May I be bold to ask at what that contains, + That paper in your hand? + +First Gentleman Yes; 'tis the list + Of those that claim their offices this day + By custom of the coronation. + The Duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims + To be high-steward; next, the Duke of Norfolk, + He to be earl marshal: you may read the rest. + +Second Gentleman I thank you, sir: had I not known those customs, + I should have been beholding to your paper. + But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine, + The princess dowager? how goes her business? + +First Gentleman That I can tell you too. The Archbishop + Of Canterbury, accompanied with other + Learned and reverend fathers of his order, + Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off + From Ampthill where the princess lay; to which + She was often cited by them, but appear'd not: + And, to be short, for not appearance and + The king's late scruple, by the main assent + Of all these learned men she was divorced, + And the late marriage made of none effect + Since which she was removed to Kimbolton, + Where she remains now sick. + +Second Gentleman Alas, good lady! + + [Trumpets] + + The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming. + + [Hautboys] + + [THE ORDER OF THE CORONATION] + + 1. A lively flourish of Trumpets. + + 2. Then, two Judges. + + 3. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace + before him. + + 4. Choristers, singing. + + [Music] + + 5. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then + Garter, in his coat of arms, and on his + head a gilt copper crown. + + 6. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, + on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With + him, SURREY, bearing the rod of silver with + the dove, crowned with an earl's coronet. + Collars of SS. + + 7. SUFFOLK, in his robe of estate, his coronet + on his head, bearing a long white wand, as + high-steward. With him, NORFOLK, with the + rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. + Collars of SS. + + 8. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; + under it, QUEEN ANNE in her robe; in her hair + richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On each + side her, the Bishops of London and + Winchester. + + 9. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of + gold, wrought with flowers, bearing QUEEN + ANNE's train. + + 10. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain + circlets of gold without flowers. + + [They pass over the stage in order and state] + +Second Gentleman A royal train, believe me. These I know: + Who's that that bears the sceptre? + +First Gentleman Marquess Dorset: + And that the Earl of Surrey, with the rod. + +Second Gentleman A bold brave gentleman. That should be + The Duke of Suffolk? + +First Gentleman 'Tis the same: high-steward. + +Second Gentleman And that my Lord of Norfolk? + +First Gentleman Yes; + +Second Gentleman Heaven bless thee! + + [Looking on QUEEN ANNE] + + Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. + Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; + Our king has all the Indies in his arms, + And more and richer, when he strains that lady: + I cannot blame his conscience. + +First Gentleman They that bear + The cloth of honour over her, are four barons + Of the Cinque-ports. + +Second Gentleman Those men are happy; and so are all are near her. + I take it, she that carries up the train + Is that old noble lady, Duchess of Norfolk. + +First Gentleman It is; and all the rest are countesses. + +Second Gentleman Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed; + And sometimes falling ones. + +First Gentleman No more of that. + + [Exit procession, and then a great flourish of trumpets] + + [Enter a third Gentleman] + +First Gentleman God save you, sir! where have you been broiling? + +Third Gentleman Among the crowd i' the Abbey; where a finger + Could not be wedged in more: I am stifled + With the mere rankness of their joy. + +Second Gentleman You saw + The ceremony? + +Third Gentleman That I did. + +First Gentleman How was it? + +Third Gentleman Well worth the seeing. + +Second Gentleman Good sir, speak it to us. + +Third Gentleman As well as I am able. The rich stream + Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen + To a prepared place in the choir, fell off + A distance from her; while her grace sat down + To rest awhile, some half an hour or so, + In a rich chair of state, opposing freely + The beauty of her person to the people. + Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman + That ever lay by man: which when the people + Had the full view of, such a noise arose + As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, + As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks-- + Doublets, I think,--flew up; and had their faces + Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy + I never saw before. Great-bellied women, + That had not half a week to go, like rams + In the old time of war, would shake the press, + And make 'em reel before 'em. No man living + Could say 'This is my wife' there; all were woven + So strangely in one piece. + +Second Gentleman But, what follow'd? + +Third Gentleman At length her grace rose, and with modest paces + Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and saint-like + Cast her fair eyes to heaven and pray'd devoutly. + Then rose again and bow'd her to the people: + When by the Archbishop of Canterbury + She had all the royal makings of a queen; + As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, + The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems + Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir, + With all the choicest music of the kingdom, + Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted, + And with the same full state paced back again + To York-place, where the feast is held. + +First Gentleman Sir, + You must no more call it York-place, that's past; + For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost: + 'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall. + +Third Gentleman I know it; + But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name + Is fresh about me. + +Second Gentleman What two reverend bishops + Were those that went on each side of the queen? + +Third Gentleman Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Winchester, + Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary, + The other, London. + +Second Gentleman He of Winchester + Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, + The virtuous Cranmer. + +Third Gentleman All the land knows that: + However, yet there is no great breach; when it comes, + Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. + +Second Gentleman Who may that be, I pray you? + +Third Gentleman Thomas Cromwell; + A man in much esteem with the king, and truly + A worthy friend. The king has made him master + O' the jewel house, + And one, already, of the privy council. + +Second Gentleman He will deserve more. + +Third Gentleman Yes, without all doubt. + Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which + Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests: + Something I can command. As I walk thither, + I'll tell ye more. + +Both You may command us, sir. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Kimbolton. + + + [Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between + GRIFFITH, her gentleman usher, and PATIENCE, her woman] + +GRIFFITH How does your grace? + +KATHARINE O Griffith, sick to death! + My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, + Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair: + So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease. + Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, + That the great child of honour, Cardinal Wolsey, Was dead? + +GRIFFITH Yes, madam; but I think your grace, + Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. + +KATHARINE Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: + If well, he stepp'd before me, happily + For my example. + +GRIFFITH Well, the voice goes, madam: + For after the stout Earl Northumberland + Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, + As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, + He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill + He could not sit his mule. + +KATHARINE Alas, poor man! + +GRIFFITH At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, + Lodged in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, + With all his covent, honourably received him; + To whom he gave these words, 'O, father abbot, + An old man, broken with the storms of state, + Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; + Give him a little earth for charity!' + So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness + Pursued him still: and, three nights after this, + About the hour of eight, which he himself + Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, + Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, + He gave his honours to the world again, + His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. + +KATHARINE So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! + Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, + And yet with charity. He was a man + Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking + Himself with princes; one that, by suggestion, + Tied all the kingdom: simony was fair-play; + His own opinion was his law: i' the presence + He would say untruths; and be ever double + Both in his words and meaning: he was never, + But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: + His promises were, as he then was, mighty; + But his performance, as he is now, nothing: + Of his own body he was ill, and gave + The clergy in example. + +GRIFFITH Noble madam, + Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues + We write in water. May it please your highness + To hear me speak his good now? + +KATHARINE Yes, good Griffith; + I were malicious else. + +GRIFFITH This cardinal, + Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly + Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. + He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; + Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading: + Lofty and sour to them that loved him not; + But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. + And though he were unsatisfied in getting, + Which was a sin, yet in bestowing, madam, + He was most princely: ever witness for him + Those twins Of learning that he raised in you, + Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him, + Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; + The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, + So excellent in art, and still so rising, + That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. + His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; + For then, and not till then, he felt himself, + And found the blessedness of being little: + And, to add greater honours to his age + Than man could give him, he died fearing God. + +KATHARINE After my death I wish no other herald, + No other speaker of my living actions, + To keep mine honour from corruption, + But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. + Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, + With thy religious truth and modesty, + Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him! + Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: + I have not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, + Cause the musicians play me that sad note + I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating + On that celestial harmony I go to. + + [Sad and solemn music] + +GRIFFITH She is asleep: good wench, let's sit down quiet, + For fear we wake her: softly, gentle Patience. + + [The vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after + another, six personages, clad in white robes, + wearing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden + vizards on their faces; branches of bays or palm in + their hands. They first congee unto her, then + dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold + a spare garland over her head; at which the other + four make reverent curtsies; then the two that held + the garland deliver the same to the other next two, + who observe the same order in their changes, and + holding the garland over her head: which done, + they deliver the same garland to the last two, who + likewise observe the same order: at which, as it + were by inspiration, she makes in her sleep signs + of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: + and so in their dancing vanish, carrying the + garland with them. The music continues] + +KATHARINE Spirits of peace, where are ye? are ye all gone, + And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? + +GRIFFITH Madam, we are here. + +KATHARINE It is not you I call for: + Saw ye none enter since I slept? + +GRIFFITH None, madam. + +KATHARINE No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop + Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces + Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? + They promised me eternal happiness; + And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel + I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, assuredly. + +GRIFFITH I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams + Possess your fancy. + +KATHARINE Bid the music leave, + They are harsh and heavy to me. + + [Music ceases] + +PATIENCE Do you note + How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? + How long her face is drawn? how pale she looks, + And of an earthy cold? Mark her eyes! + +GRIFFITH She is going, wench: pray, pray. + +PATIENCE Heaven comfort her! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger An't like your grace,-- + +KATHARINE You are a saucy fellow: + Deserve we no more reverence? + +GRIFFITH You are to blame, + Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness, + To use so rude behavior; go to, kneel. + +Messenger I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon; + My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying + A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. + +KATHARINE Admit him entrance, Griffith: but this fellow + Let me ne'er see again. + + [Exeunt GRIFFITH and Messenger] + + [Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS] + + If my sight fail not, + You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, + My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. + +CAPUCIUS Madam, the same; your servant. + +KATHARINE O, my lord, + The times and titles now are alter'd strangely + With me since first you knew me. But, I pray you, + What is your pleasure with me? + +CAPUCIUS Noble lady, + First mine own service to your grace; the next, + The king's request that I would visit you; + Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me + Sends you his princely commendations, + And heartily entreats you take good comfort. + +KATHARINE O my good lord, that comfort comes too late; + 'Tis like a pardon after execution: + That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; + But now I am past an comforts here, but prayers. + How does his highness? + +CAPUCIUS Madam, in good health. + +KATHARINE So may he ever do! and ever flourish, + When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name + Banish'd the kingdom! Patience, is that letter, + I caused you write, yet sent away? + +PATIENCE No, madam. + + [Giving it to KATHARINE] + +KATHARINE Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver + This to my lord the king. + +CAPUCIUS Most willing, madam. + +KATHARINE In which I have commended to his goodness + The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter; + The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her! + Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding-- + She is young, and of a noble modest nature, + I hope she will deserve well,--and a little + To love her for her mother's sake, that loved him, + Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition + Is, that his noble grace would have some pity + Upon my wretched women, that so long + Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully: + Of which there is not one, I dare avow, + And now I should not lie, but will deserve + For virtue and true beauty of the soul, + For honesty and decent carriage, + A right good husband, let him be a noble + And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 'em. + The last is, for my men; they are the poorest, + But poverty could never draw 'em from me; + That they may have their wages duly paid 'em, + And something over to remember me by: + If heaven had pleased to have given me longer life + And able means, we had not parted thus. + These are the whole contents: and, good my lord, + By that you love the dearest in this world, + As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, + Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king + To do me this last right. + +CAPUCIUS By heaven, I will, + Or let me lose the fashion of a man! + +KATHARINE I thank you, honest lord. Remember me + In all humility unto his highness: + Say his long trouble now is passing + Out of this world; tell him, in death I bless'd him, + For so I will. Mine eyes grow dim. Farewell, + My lord. Griffith, farewell. Nay, Patience, + You must not leave me yet: I must to bed; + Call in more women. When I am dead, good wench, + Let me be used with honour: strew me over + With maiden flowers, that all the world may know + I was a chaste wife to my grave: embalm me, + Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like + A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. + I can no more. + + [Exeunt, leading KATHARINE] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I London. A gallery in the palace. + + + [Enter GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a + torch before him, met by LOVELL] + +GARDINER It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? + +Boy It hath struck. + +GARDINER These should be hours for necessities, + Not for delights; times to repair our nature + With comforting repose, and not for us + To waste these times. Good hour of night, Sir Thomas! + Whither so late? + +LOVELL Came you from the king, my lord + +GARDINER I did, Sir Thomas: and left him at primero + With the Duke of Suffolk. + +LOVELL I must to him too, + Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. + +GARDINER Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? + It seems you are in haste: an if there be + No great offence belongs to't, give your friend + Some touch of your late business: affairs, that walk, + As they say spirits do, at midnight, have + In them a wilder nature than the business + That seeks dispatch by day. + +LOVELL My lord, I love you; + And durst commend a secret to your ear + Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour, + They say, in great extremity; and fear'd + She'll with the labour end. + +GARDINER The fruit she goes with + I pray for heartily, that it may find + Good time, and live: but for the stock, Sir Thomas, + I wish it grubb'd up now. + +LOVELL Methinks I could + Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says + She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does + Deserve our better wishes. + +GARDINER But, sir, sir, + Hear me, Sir Thomas: you're a gentleman + Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; + And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well, + 'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me, + Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, + Sleep in their graves. + +LOVELL Now, sir, you speak of two + The most remark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell, + Beside that of the jewel house, is made master + O' the rolls, and the king's secretary; further, sir, + Stands in the gap and trade of moe preferments, + With which the time will load him. The archbishop + Is the king's hand and tongue; and who dare speak + One syllable against him? + +GARDINER Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, + There are that dare; and I myself have ventured + To speak my mind of him: and indeed this day, + Sir, I may tell it you, I think I have + Incensed the lords o' the council, that he is, + For so I know he is, they know he is, + A most arch heretic, a pestilence + That does infect the land: with which they moved + Have broken with the king; who hath so far + Given ear to our complaint, of his great grace + And princely care foreseeing those fell mischiefs + Our reasons laid before him, hath commanded + To-morrow morning to the council-board + He be convented. He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas, + And we must root him out. From your affairs + I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas. + +LOVELL Many good nights, my lord: I rest your servant. + + [Exeunt GARDINER and Page] + + [Enter KING HENRY VIII and SUFFOLK] + +KING HENRY VIII Charles, I will play no more tonight; + My mind's not on't; you are too hard for me. + +SUFFOLK Sir, I did never win of you before. + +KING HENRY VIII But little, Charles; + Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. + Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news? + +LOVELL I could not personally deliver to her + What you commanded me, but by her woman + I sent your message; who return'd her thanks + In the great'st humbleness, and desired your highness + Most heartily to pray for her. + +KING HENRY VIII What say'st thou, ha? + To pray for her? what, is she crying out? + +LOVELL So said her woman; and that her sufferance made + Almost each pang a death. + +KING HENRY VIII Alas, good lady! + +SUFFOLK God safely quit her of her burthen, and + With gentle travail, to the gladding of + Your highness with an heir! + +KING HENRY VIII 'Tis midnight, Charles; + Prithee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember + The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; + For I must think of that which company + Would not be friendly to. + +SUFFOLK I wish your highness + A quiet night; and my good mistress will + Remember in my prayers. + +KING HENRY VIII Charles, good night. + + [Exit SUFFOLK] + + [Enter DENNY] + + Well, sir, what follows? + +DENNY Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, + As you commanded me. + +KING HENRY VIII Ha! Canterbury? + +DENNY Ay, my good lord. + +KING HENRY VIII 'Tis true: where is he, Denny? + +DENNY He attends your highness' pleasure. + + [Exit DENNY] + +LOVELL [Aside] This is about that which the bishop spake: + I am happily come hither. + + [Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER] + +KING HENRY VIII Avoid the gallery. + + [LOVELL seems to stay] + + Ha! I have said. Be gone. What! + + [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY] + +CRANMER [Aside] + I am fearful: wherefore frowns he thus? + 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. + +KING HENRY VIII How now, my lord! you desire to know + Wherefore I sent for you. + +CRANMER [Kneeling] It is my duty + To attend your highness' pleasure. + +KING HENRY VIII Pray you, arise, + My good and gracious Lord of Canterbury. + Come, you and I must walk a turn together; + I have news to tell you: come, come, give me your hand. + Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, + And am right sorry to repeat what follows + I have, and most unwillingly, of late + Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, + Grievous complaints of you; which, being consider'd, + Have moved us and our council, that you shall + This morning come before us; where, I know, + You cannot with such freedom purge yourself, + But that, till further trial in those charges + Which will require your answer, you must take + Your patience to you, and be well contented + To make your house our Tower: you a brother of us, + It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness + Would come against you. + +CRANMER [Kneeling] + + I humbly thank your highness; + And am right glad to catch this good occasion + Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff + And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, + There's none stands under more calumnious tongues + Than I myself, poor man. + +KING HENRY VIII Stand up, good Canterbury: + Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted + In us, thy friend: give me thy hand, stand up: + Prithee, let's walk. Now, by my holidame. + What manner of man are you? My lord, I look'd + You would have given me your petition, that + I should have ta'en some pains to bring together + Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you, + Without indurance, further. + +CRANMER Most dread liege, + The good I stand on is my truth and honesty: + If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, + Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, + Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing + What can be said against me. + +KING HENRY VIII Know you not + How your state stands i' the world, with the whole world? + Your enemies are many, and not small; their practises + Must bear the same proportion; and not ever + The justice and the truth o' the question carries + The due o' the verdict with it: at what ease + Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt + To swear against you? such things have been done. + You are potently opposed; and with a malice + Of as great size. Ween you of better luck, + I mean, in perjured witness, than your master, + Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived + Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; + You take a precipice for no leap of danger, + And woo your own destruction. + +CRANMER God and your majesty + Protect mine innocence, or I fall into + The trap is laid for me! + +KING HENRY VIII Be of good cheer; + They shall no more prevail than we give way to. + Keep comfort to you; and this morning see + You do appear before them: if they shall chance, + In charging you with matters, to commit you, + The best persuasions to the contrary + Fail not to use, and with what vehemency + The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties + Will render you no remedy, this ring + Deliver them, and your appeal to us + There make before them. Look, the good man weeps! + He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother! + I swear he is true--hearted; and a soul + None better in my kingdom. Get you gone, + And do as I have bid you. + + [Exit CRANMER] + + He has strangled + His language in his tears. + + [Enter Old Lady, LOVELL following] + +Gentleman [Within] Come back: what mean you? + +Old Lady I'll not come back; the tidings that I bring + Will make my boldness manners. Now, good angels + Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person + Under their blessed wings! + +KING HENRY VIII Now, by thy looks + I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? + Say, ay; and of a boy. + +Old Lady Ay, ay, my liege; + And of a lovely boy: the God of heaven + Both now and ever bless her! 'tis a girl, + Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen + Desires your visitation, and to be + Acquainted with this stranger 'tis as like you + As cherry is to cherry. + +KING HENRY VIII Lovell! + +LOVELL Sir? + +KING HENRY VIII Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen. + + [Exit] + +Old Lady An hundred marks! By this light, I'll ha' more. + An ordinary groom is for such payment. + I will have more, or scold it out of him. + Said I for this, the girl was like to him? + I will have more, or else unsay't; and now, + While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Before the council-chamber. Pursuivants, Pages, &c. + attending. + + + [Enter CRANMER] + +CRANMER I hope I am not too late; and yet the gentleman, + That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me + To make great haste. All fast? what means this? Ho! + Who waits there? Sure, you know me? + + [Enter Keeper] + +Keeper Yes, my lord; + But yet I cannot help you. + +CRANMER Why? + + [Enter DOCTOR BUTTS] + +Keeper Your grace must wait till you be call'd for. + +CRANMER So. + +DOCTOR BUTTS [Aside] This is a piece of malice. I am glad + I came this way so happily: the king + Shall understand it presently. + + [Exit] + +CRANMER [Aside] 'Tis Butts, + The king's physician: as he pass'd along, + How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me! + Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace! For certain, + This is of purpose laid by some that hate me-- + God turn their hearts! I never sought their malice-- + To quench mine honour: they would shame to make me + Wait else at door, a fellow-counsellor, + 'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleasures + Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. + + [Enter the KING HENRY VIII and DOCTOR BUTTS at a window above] + +DOCTOR BUTTS I'll show your grace the strangest sight-- + +KING HENRY VIII What's that, Butts? + +DOCTOR BUTTS I think your highness saw this many a day. + +KING HENRY VIII Body o' me, where is it? + +DOCTOR BUTTS There, my lord: + The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; + Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, + Pages, and footboys. + +KING HENRY VIII Ha! 'tis he, indeed: + Is this the honour they do one another? + 'Tis well there's one above 'em yet. I had thought + They had parted so much honesty among 'em + At least, good manners, as not thus to suffer + A man of his place, and so near our favour, + To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, + And at the door too, like a post with packets. + By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery: + Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close: + We shall hear more anon. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The Council-Chamber. + + + [Enter Chancellor; places himself at the upper end + of the table on the left hand; a seat being left + void above him, as for CRANMER's seat. SUFFOLK, + NORFOLK, SURREY, Chamberlain, GARDINER, seat + themselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at + lower end, as secretary. Keeper at the door] + +Chancellor Speak to the business, master-secretary: + Why are we met in council? + +CROMWELL Please your honours, + The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. + +GARDINER Has he had knowledge of it? + +CROMWELL Yes. + +NORFOLK Who waits there? + +Keeper Without, my noble lords? + +GARDINER Yes. + +Keeper My lord archbishop; + And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. + +Chancellor Let him come in. + +Keeper Your grace may enter now. + + [CRANMER enters and approaches the council-table] + +Chancellor My good lord archbishop, I'm very sorry + To sit here at this present, and behold + That chair stand empty: but we all are men, + In our own natures frail, and capable + Of our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailty + And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, + Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, + Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling + The whole realm, by your teaching and your chaplains, + For so we are inform'd, with new opinions, + Divers and dangerous; which are heresies, + And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. + +GARDINER Which reformation must be sudden too, + My noble lords; for those that tame wild horses + Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle, + But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur 'em, + Till they obey the manage. If we suffer, + Out of our easiness and childish pity + To one man's honour, this contagious sickness, + Farewell all physic: and what follows then? + Commotions, uproars, with a general taint + Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours, + The upper Germany, can dearly witness, + Yet freshly pitied in our memories. + +CRANMER My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress + Both of my life and office, I have labour'd, + And with no little study, that my teaching + And the strong course of my authority + Might go one way, and safely; and the end + Was ever, to do well: nor is there living, + I speak it with a single heart, my lords, + A man that more detests, more stirs against, + Both in his private conscience and his place, + Defacers of a public peace, than I do. + Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart + With less allegiance in it! Men that make + Envy and crooked malice nourishment + Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, + That, in this case of justice, my accusers, + Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, + And freely urge against me. + +SUFFOLK Nay, my lord, + That cannot be: you are a counsellor, + And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. + +GARDINER My lord, because we have business of more moment, + We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure, + And our consent, for better trial of you, + From hence you be committed to the Tower; + Where, being but a private man again, + You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, + More than, I fear, you are provided for. + +CRANMER Ah, my good Lord of Winchester, I thank you; + You are always my good friend; if your will pass, + I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, + You are so merciful: I see your end; + 'Tis my undoing: love and meekness, lord, + Become a churchman better than ambition: + Win straying souls with modesty again, + Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, + Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, + I make as little doubt, as you do conscience + In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, + But reverence to your calling makes me modest. + +GARDINER My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, + That's the plain truth: your painted gloss discovers, + To men that understand you, words and weakness. + +CROMWELL My Lord of Winchester, you are a little, + By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, + However faulty, yet should find respect + For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty + To load a falling man. + +GARDINER Good master secretary, + I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst + Of all this table, say so. + +CROMWELL Why, my lord? + +GARDINER Do not I know you for a favourer + Of this new sect? ye are not sound. + +CROMWELL Not sound? + +GARDINER Not sound, I say. + +CROMWELL Would you were half so honest! + Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. + +GARDINER I shall remember this bold language. + +CROMWELL Do. + Remember your bold life too. + +Chancellor This is too much; + Forbear, for shame, my lords. + +GARDINER I have done. + +CROMWELL And I. + +Chancellor Then thus for you, my lord: it stands agreed, + I take it, by all voices, that forthwith + You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner; + There to remain till the king's further pleasure + Be known unto us: are you all agreed, lords? + +All We are. + +CRANMER Is there no other way of mercy, + But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? + +GARDINER What other + Would you expect? you are strangely troublesome. + Let some o' the guard be ready there. + + [Enter Guard] + +CRANMER For me? + Must I go like a traitor thither? + +GARDINER Receive him, + And see him safe i' the Tower. + +CRANMER Stay, good my lords, + I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; + By virtue of that ring, I take my cause + Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it + To a most noble judge, the king my master. + +Chamberlain This is the king's ring. + +SURREY 'Tis no counterfeit. + +SUFFOLK 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, + When ye first put this dangerous stone a-rolling, + 'Twould fall upon ourselves. + +NORFOLK Do you think, my lords, + The king will suffer but the little finger + Of this man to be vex'd? + +Chancellor 'Tis now too certain: + How much more is his life in value with him? + Would I were fairly out on't! + +CROMWELL My mind gave me, + In seeking tales and informations + Against this man, whose honesty the devil + And his disciples only envy at, + Ye blew the fire that burns ye: now have at ye! + + [Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his seat] + +GARDINER Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven + In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; + Not only good and wise, but most religious: + One that, in all obedience, makes the church + The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen + That holy duty, out of dear respect, + His royal self in judgment comes to hear + The cause betwixt her and this great offender. + +KING HENRY VIII You were ever good at sudden commendations, + Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not + To hear such flattery now, and in my presence; + They are too thin and bare to hide offences. + To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel, + And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; + But, whatsoe'er thou takest me for, I'm sure + Thou hast a cruel nature and a bloody. + + [To CRANMER] + + Good man, sit down. Now let me see the proudest + He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: + By all that's holy, he had better starve + Than but once think this place becomes thee not. + +SURREY May it please your grace,-- + +KING HENRY VIII No, sir, it does not please me. + I had thought I had had men of some understanding + And wisdom of my council; but I find none. + Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, + This good man,--few of you deserve that title,-- + This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy + At chamber--door? and one as great as you are? + Why, what a shame was this! Did my commission + Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye + Power as he was a counsellor to try him, + Not as a groom: there's some of ye, I see, + More out of malice than integrity, + Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; + Which ye shall never have while I live. + +Chancellor Thus far, + My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace + To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed + Concerning his imprisonment, was rather, + If there be faith in men, meant for his trial, + And fair purgation to the world, than malice, + I'm sure, in me. + +KING HENRY VIII Well, well, my lords, respect him; + Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. + I will say thus much for him, if a prince + May be beholding to a subject, I + Am, for his love and service, so to him. + Make me no more ado, but all embrace him: + Be friends, for shame, my lords! My Lord of + Canterbury, + I have a suit which you must not deny me; + That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, + You must be godfather, and answer for her. + +CRANMER The greatest monarch now alive may glory + In such an honour: how may I deserve it + That am a poor and humble subject to you? + +KING HENRY VIII Come, come, my lord, you'ld spare your spoons: you + shall have two noble partners with you; the old + Duchess of Norfolk, and Lady Marquess Dorset: will + these please you? + Once more, my Lord of Winchester, I charge you, + Embrace and love this man. + +GARDINER With a true heart + And brother-love I do it. + +CRANMER And let heaven + Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. + +KING HENRY VIII Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart: + The common voice, I see, is verified + Of thee, which says thus, 'Do my Lord of Canterbury + A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever.' + Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long + To have this young one made a Christian. + As I have made ye one, lords, one remain; + So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV The palace yard. + + + [Noise and tumult within. Enter Porter and his Man] + +Porter You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals: do you + take the court for Paris-garden? ye rude slaves, + leave your gaping. + + [Within] + + Good master porter, I belong to the larder. + +Porter Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, ye rogue! is + this a place to roar in? Fetch me a dozen crab-tree + staves, and strong ones: these are but switches to + 'em. I'll scratch your heads: you must be seeing + christenings? do you look for ale and cakes here, + you rude rascals? + +Man Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impossible-- + Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons-- + To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep + On May-day morning; which will never be: + We may as well push against Powle's, as stir em. + +Porter How got they in, and be hang'd? + +Man Alas, I know not; how gets the tide in? + As much as one sound cudgel of four foot-- + You see the poor remainder--could distribute, + I made no spare, sir. + +Porter You did nothing, sir. + +Man I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colbrand, + To mow 'em down before me: but if I spared any + That had a head to hit, either young or old, + He or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, + Let me ne'er hope to see a chine again + And that I would not for a cow, God save her! + + [Within] + + Do you hear, master porter? + +Porter I shall be with you presently, good master puppy. + Keep the door close, sirrah. + +Man What would you have me do? + +Porter What should you do, but knock 'em down by the + dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? or have + we some strange Indian with the great tool come to + court, the women so besiege us? Bless me, what a + fry of fornication is at door! On my Christian + conscience, this one christening will beget a + thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all together. + +Man The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There is a + fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a + brazier by his face, for, o' my conscience, twenty + of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand + about him are under the line, they need no other + penance: that fire-drake did I hit three times on + the head, and three times was his nose discharged + against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to + blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small + wit near him, that railed upon me till her pinked + porringer fell off her head, for kindling such a + combustion in the state. I missed the meteor once, + and hit that woman; who cried out 'Clubs!' when I + might see from far some forty truncheoners draw to + her succor, which were the hope o' the Strand, where + she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my + place: at length they came to the broom-staff to + me; I defied 'em still: when suddenly a file of + boys behind 'em, loose shot, delivered such a shower + of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, + and let 'em win the work: the devil was amongst + 'em, I think, surely. + +Porter These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, + and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but + the tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of + Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. + I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they + are like to dance these three days; besides the + running banquet of two beadles that is to come. + + [Enter Chamberlain] + +Chamberlain Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! + They grow still too; from all parts they are coming, + As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, + These lazy knaves? Ye have made a fine hand, fellows: + There's a trim rabble let in: are all these + Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have + Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, + When they pass back from the christening. + +Porter An't please + your honour, + We are but men; and what so many may do, + Not being torn a-pieces, we have done: + An army cannot rule 'em. + +Chamberlain As I live, + If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all + By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads + Clap round fines for neglect: ye are lazy knaves; + And here ye lie baiting of bombards, when + Ye should do service. Hark! the trumpets sound; + They're come already from the christening: + Go, break among the press, and find a way out + To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find + A Marshalsea shall hold ye play these two months. + +Porter Make way there for the princess. + +Man You great fellow, + Stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. + +Porter You i' the camlet, get up o' the rail; + I'll peck you o'er the pales else. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V The palace. + + + [Enter trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord + Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, NORFOLK with his marshal's + staff, SUFFOLK, two Noblemen bearing great + standing-bowls for the christening-gifts; then + four Noblemen bearing a canopy, under which the + Duchess of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the child + richly habited in a mantle, &c., train borne by a + Lady; then follows the Marchioness Dorset, the + other godmother, and Ladies. The troop pass once + about the stage, and Garter speaks] + +Garter Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous + life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty + princess of England, Elizabeth! + + [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VIII and Guard] + +CRANMER [Kneeling] And to your royal grace, and the good queen, + My noble partners, and myself, thus pray: + All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, + Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, + May hourly fall upon ye! + +KING HENRY VIII Thank you, good lord archbishop: + What is her name? + +CRANMER Elizabeth. + +KING HENRY VIII Stand up, lord. + + [KING HENRY VIII kisses the child] + + With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! + Into whose hand I give thy life. + +CRANMER Amen. + +KING HENRY VIII My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal: + I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, + When she has so much English. + +CRANMER Let me speak, sir, + For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter + Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth. + This royal infant--heaven still move about her!-- + Though in her cradle, yet now promises + Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, + Which time shall bring to ripeness: she shall be-- + But few now living can behold that goodness-- + A pattern to all princes living with her, + And all that shall succeed: Saba was never + More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue + Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, + That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, + With all the virtues that attend the good, + Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, + Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: + She shall be loved and fear'd: her own shall bless her; + Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, + And hang their heads with sorrow: good grows with her: + In her days every man shall eat in safety, + Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing + The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: + God shall be truly known; and those about her + From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, + And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. + Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when + The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, + Her ashes new create another heir, + As great in admiration as herself; + So shall she leave her blessedness to one, + When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness, + Who from the sacred ashes of her honour + Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, + And so stand fix'd: peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, + That were the servants to this chosen infant, + Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him: + Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, + His honour and the greatness of his name + Shall be, and make new nations: he shall flourish, + And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches + To all the plains about him: our children's children + Shall see this, and bless heaven. + +KING HENRY VIII Thou speakest wonders. + +CRANMER She shall be, to the happiness of England, + An aged princess; many days shall see her, + And yet no day without a deed to crown it. + Would I had known no more! but she must die, + She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, + A most unspotted lily shall she pass + To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. + +KING HENRY VIII O lord archbishop, + Thou hast made me now a man! never, before + This happy child, did I get any thing: + This oracle of comfort has so pleased me, + That when I am in heaven I shall desire + To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. + I thank ye all. To you, my good lord mayor, + And your good brethren, I am much beholding; + I have received much honour by your presence, + And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords: + Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, + She will be sick else. This day, no man think + Has business at his house; for all shall stay: + This little one shall make it holiday. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING HENRY VIII + + EPILOGUE + + + 'Tis ten to one this play can never please + All that are here: some come to take their ease, + And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, + We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, + They'll say 'tis naught: others, to hear the city + Abused extremely, and to cry 'That's witty!' + Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, + All the expected good we're like to hear + For this play at this time, is only in + The merciful construction of good women; + For such a one we show'd 'em: if they smile, + And say 'twill do, I know, within a while + All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, + If they hold when their ladies bid 'em clap. + KING JOHN + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING JOHN: + +PRINCE HENRY son to the king. + +ARTHUR Duke of Bretagne, nephew to the king. + +The Earl of +PEMBROKE (PEMBROKE:) + +The Earl of ESSEX (ESSEX:) + +The Earl of +SALISBURY (SALISBURY:) + +The Lord BIGOT (BIGOT:) + +HUBERT DE BURGH (HUBERT:) + +ROBERT +FAULCONBRIDGE Son to Sir Robert Faulconbridge. (ROBERT:) + +PHILIP the BASTARD his half-brother. (BASTARD:) + +JAMES GURNEY servant to Lady Faulconbridge. (GURNEY:) + +PETER Of Pomfret a prophet. (PETER:) + +PHILIP King of France. (KING PHILIP:) + +LEWIS the Dauphin. + +LYMOGES Duke of AUSTRIA. (AUSTRIA:) + +CARDINAL PANDULPH the Pope's legate. + +MELUN a French Lord. + +CHATILLON ambassador from France to King John. + +QUEEN ELINOR mother to King John. + +CONSTANCE mother to Arthur. + +BLANCH of Spain niece to King John. (BLANCH:) + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE: + + Lords, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, + Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. + (First Citizen:) + (French Herald:) + (English Herald:) + (First Executioner:) + (Messenger:) + + +SCENE Partly in England, and partly in France. + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I KING JOHN'S palace. + + + [Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, + SALISBURY, and others, with CHATILLON] + +KING JOHN Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? + +CHATILLON Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France + In my behavior to the majesty, + The borrow'd majesty, of England here. + +QUEEN ELINOR A strange beginning: 'borrow'd majesty!' + +KING JOHN Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. + +CHATILLON Philip of France, in right and true behalf + Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, + Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim + To this fair island and the territories, + To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + Desiring thee to lay aside the sword + Which sways usurpingly these several titles, + And put these same into young Arthur's hand, + Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. + +KING JOHN What follows if we disallow of this? + +CHATILLON The proud control of fierce and bloody war, + To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. + +KING JOHN Here have we war for war and blood for blood, + Controlment for controlment: so answer France. + +CHATILLON Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, + The farthest limit of my embassy. + +KING JOHN Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace: + Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; + For ere thou canst report I will be there, + The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: + So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath + And sullen presage of your own decay. + An honourable conduct let him have: + Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. + + [Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE] + +QUEEN ELINOR What now, my son! have I not ever said + How that ambitious Constance would not cease + Till she had kindled France and all the world, + Upon the right and party of her son? + This might have been prevented and made whole + With very easy arguments of love, + Which now the manage of two kingdoms must + With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. + +KING JOHN Our strong possession and our right for us. + +QUEEN ELINOR Your strong possession much more than your right, + Or else it must go wrong with you and me: + So much my conscience whispers in your ear, + Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear. + + [Enter a Sheriff] + +ESSEX My liege, here is the strangest controversy + Come from country to be judged by you, + That e'er I heard: shall I produce the men? + +KING JOHN Let them approach. + Our abbeys and our priories shall pay + This expedition's charge. + + [Enter ROBERT and the BASTARD] + + What men are you? + +BASTARD Your faithful subject I, a gentleman + Born in Northamptonshire and eldest son, + As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, + A soldier, by the honour-giving hand + Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. + +KING JOHN What art thou? + +ROBERT The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. + +KING JOHN Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? + You came not of one mother then, it seems. + +BASTARD Most certain of one mother, mighty king; + That is well known; and, as I think, one father: + But for the certain knowledge of that truth + I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother: + Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. + +QUEEN ELINOR Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother + And wound her honour with this diffidence. + +BASTARD I, madam? no, I have no reason for it; + That is my brother's plea and none of mine; + The which if he can prove, a' pops me out + At least from fair five hundred pound a year: + Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land! + +KING JOHN A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, + Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? + +BASTARD I know not why, except to get the land. + But once he slander'd me with bastardy: + But whether I be as true begot or no, + That still I lay upon my mother's head, + But that I am as well begot, my liege,-- + Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!-- + Compare our faces and be judge yourself. + If old sir Robert did beget us both + And were our father and this son like him, + O old sir Robert, father, on my knee + I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! + +KING JOHN Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! + +QUEEN ELINOR He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face; + The accent of his tongue affecteth him. + Do you not read some tokens of my son + In the large composition of this man? + +KING JOHN Mine eye hath well examined his parts + And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, + What doth move you to claim your brother's land? + +BASTARD Because he hath a half-face, like my father. + With half that face would he have all my land: + A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year! + +ROBERT My gracious liege, when that my father lived, + Your brother did employ my father much,-- + +BASTARD Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: + Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother. + +ROBERT And once dispatch'd him in an embassy + To Germany, there with the emperor + To treat of high affairs touching that time. + The advantage of his absence took the king + And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's; + Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, + But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores + Between my father and my mother lay, + As I have heard my father speak himself, + When this same lusty gentleman was got. + Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd + His lands to me, and took it on his death + That this my mother's son was none of his; + And if he were, he came into the world + Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. + Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, + My father's land, as was my father's will. + +KING JOHN Sirrah, your brother is legitimate; + Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, + And if she did play false, the fault was hers; + Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands + That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, + Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, + Had of your father claim'd this son for his? + In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept + This calf bred from his cow from all the world; + In sooth he might; then, if he were my brother's, + My brother might not claim him; nor your father, + Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes; + My mother's son did get your father's heir; + Your father's heir must have your father's land. + +ROBERT Shall then my father's will be of no force + To dispossess that child which is not his? + +BASTARD Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, + Than was his will to get me, as I think. + +QUEEN ELINOR Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge + And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, + Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, + Lord of thy presence and no land beside? + +BASTARD Madam, an if my brother had my shape, + And I had his, sir Robert's his, like him; + And if my legs were two such riding-rods, + My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin + That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose + Lest men should say 'Look, where three-farthings goes!' + And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, + Would I might never stir from off this place, + I would give it every foot to have this face; + I would not be sir Nob in any case. + +QUEEN ELINOR I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, + Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? + I am a soldier and now bound to France. + +BASTARD Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance. + Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, + Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear. + Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. + +QUEEN ELINOR Nay, I would have you go before me thither. + +BASTARD Our country manners give our betters way. + +KING JOHN What is thy name? + +BASTARD Philip, my liege, so is my name begun, + Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son. + +KING JOHN From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear'st: + Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great, + Arise sir Richard and Plantagenet. + +BASTARD Brother by the mother's side, give me your hand: + My father gave me honour, yours gave land. + Now blessed by the hour, by night or day, + When I was got, sir Robert was away! + +QUEEN ELINOR The very spirit of Plantagenet! + I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so. + +BASTARD Madam, by chance but not by truth; what though? + Something about, a little from the right, + In at the window, or else o'er the hatch: + Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, + And have is have, however men do catch: + Near or far off, well won is still well shot, + And I am I, howe'er I was begot. + +KING JOHN Go, Faulconbridge: now hast thou thy desire; + A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. + Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed + For France, for France, for it is more than need. + +BASTARD Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee! + For thou wast got i' the way of honesty. + + [Exeunt all but BASTARD] + + A foot of honour better than I was; + But many a many foot of land the worse. + Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. + 'Good den, sir Richard!'--'God-a-mercy, fellow!'-- + And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; + For new-made honour doth forget men's names; + 'Tis too respective and too sociable + For your conversion. Now your traveller, + He and his toothpick at my worship's mess, + And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, + Why then I suck my teeth and catechise + My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,' + Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin, + 'I shall beseech you'--that is question now; + And then comes answer like an Absey book: + 'O sir,' says answer, 'at your best command; + At your employment; at your service, sir;' + 'No, sir,' says question, 'I, sweet sir, at yours:' + And so, ere answer knows what question would, + Saving in dialogue of compliment, + And talking of the Alps and Apennines, + The Pyrenean and the river Po, + It draws toward supper in conclusion so. + But this is worshipful society + And fits the mounting spirit like myself, + For he is but a bastard to the time + That doth not smack of observation; + And so am I, whether I smack or no; + And not alone in habit and device, + Exterior form, outward accoutrement, + But from the inward motion to deliver + Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth: + Which, though I will not practise to deceive, + Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; + For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. + But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? + What woman-post is this? hath she no husband + That will take pains to blow a horn before her? + + [Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and GURNEY] + + O me! it is my mother. How now, good lady! + What brings you here to court so hastily? + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he, + That holds in chase mine honour up and down? + +BASTARD My brother Robert? old sir Robert's son? + Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? + Is it sir Robert's son that you seek so? + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, + Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at sir Robert? + He is sir Robert's son, and so art thou. + +BASTARD James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? + +GURNEY Good leave, good Philip. + +BASTARD Philip! sparrow: James, + There's toys abroad: anon I'll tell thee more. + + [Exit GURNEY] + + Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son: + Sir Robert might have eat his part in me + Upon Good-Friday and ne'er broke his fast: + Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess, + Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: + We know his handiwork: therefore, good mother, + To whom am I beholding for these limbs? + Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, + That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? + What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? + +BASTARD Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like. + What! I am dubb'd! I have it on my shoulder. + But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son; + I have disclaim'd sir Robert and my land; + Legitimation, name and all is gone: + Then, good my mother, let me know my father; + Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother? + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? + +BASTARD As faithfully as I deny the devil. + +LADY FAULCONBRIDGE King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father: + By long and vehement suit I was seduced + To make room for him in my husband's bed: + Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! + Thou art the issue of my dear offence, + Which was so strongly urged past my defence. + +BASTARD Now, by this light, were I to get again, + Madam, I would not wish a better father. + Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, + And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly: + Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, + Subjected tribute to commanding love, + Against whose fury and unmatched force + The aweless lion could not wage the fight, + Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. + He that perforce robs lions of their hearts + May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, + With all my heart I thank thee for my father! + Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well + When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. + Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; + And they shall say, when Richard me begot, + If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin: + Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I France. Before Angiers. + + + [Enter AUSTRIA and forces, drums, etc. on one side: + on the other KING PHILIP and his power; LEWIS, + ARTHUR, CONSTANCE and attendants] + +LEWIS Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. + Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, + Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart + And fought the holy wars in Palestine, + By this brave duke came early to his grave: + And for amends to his posterity, + At our importance hither is he come, + To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf, + And to rebuke the usurpation + Of thy unnatural uncle, English John: + Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. + +ARTHUR God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death + The rather that you give his offspring life, + Shadowing their right under your wings of war: + I give you welcome with a powerless hand, + But with a heart full of unstained love: + Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. + +LEWIS A noble boy! Who would not do thee right? + +AUSTRIA Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, + As seal to this indenture of my love, + That to my home I will no more return, + Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, + Together with that pale, that white-faced shore, + Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides + And coops from other lands her islanders, + Even till that England, hedged in with the main, + That water-walled bulwark, still secure + And confident from foreign purposes, + Even till that utmost corner of the west + Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy, + Will I not think of home, but follow arms. + +CONSTANCE O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, + Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength + To make a more requital to your love! + +AUSTRIA The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords + In such a just and charitable war. + +KING PHILIP Well then, to work: our cannon shall be bent + Against the brows of this resisting town. + Call for our chiefest men of discipline, + To cull the plots of best advantages: + We'll lay before this town our royal bones, + Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood, + But we will make it subject to this boy. + +CONSTANCE Stay for an answer to your embassy, + Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood: + My Lord Chatillon may from England bring, + That right in peace which here we urge in war, + And then we shall repent each drop of blood + That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. + + [Enter CHATILLON] + +KING PHILIP A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish, + Our messenger Chatillon is arrived! + What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; + We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. + +CHATILLON Then turn your forces from this paltry siege + And stir them up against a mightier task. + England, impatient of your just demands, + Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds, + Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time + To land his legions all as soon as I; + His marches are expedient to this town, + His forces strong, his soldiers confident. + With him along is come the mother-queen, + An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; + With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain; + With them a bastard of the king's deceased, + And all the unsettled humours of the land, + Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, + With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens, + Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, + Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, + To make hazard of new fortunes here: + In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits + Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er + Did nearer float upon the swelling tide, + To do offence and scath in Christendom. + + [Drum beats] + + The interruption of their churlish drums + Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand, + To parley or to fight; therefore prepare. + +KING PHILIP How much unlook'd for is this expedition! + +AUSTRIA By how much unexpected, by so much + We must awake endavour for defence; + For courage mounteth with occasion: + Let them be welcome then: we are prepared. + + [Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, + Lords, and forces] + +KING JOHN Peace be to France, if France in peace permit + Our just and lineal entrance to our own; + If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, + Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct + Their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven. + +KING PHILIP Peace be to England, if that war return + From France to England, there to live in peace. + England we love; and for that England's sake + With burden of our armour here we sweat. + This toil of ours should be a work of thine; + But thou from loving England art so far, + That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king + Cut off the sequence of posterity, + Out-faced infant state and done a rape + Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. + Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face; + These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his: + This little abstract doth contain that large + Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time + Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. + That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, + And this his son; England was Geffrey's right + And this is Geffrey's: in the name of God + How comes it then that thou art call'd a king, + When living blood doth in these temples beat, + Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest? + +KING JOHN From whom hast thou this great commission, France, + To draw my answer from thy articles? + +KING PHILIP From that supernal judge, that stirs good thoughts + In any breast of strong authority, + To look into the blots and stains of right: + That judge hath made me guardian to this boy: + Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong + And by whose help I mean to chastise it. + +KING JOHN Alack, thou dost usurp authority. + +KING PHILIP Excuse; it is to beat usurping down. + +QUEEN ELINOR Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? + +CONSTANCE Let me make answer; thy usurping son. + +QUEEN ELINOR Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king, + That thou mayst be a queen, and cheque the world! + +CONSTANCE My bed was ever to thy son as true + As thine was to thy husband; and this boy + Liker in feature to his father Geffrey + Than thou and John in manners; being as like + As rain to water, or devil to his dam. + My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think + His father never was so true begot: + It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. + +QUEEN ELINOR There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. + +CONSTANCE There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. + +AUSTRIA Peace! + +BASTARD Hear the crier. + +AUSTRIA What the devil art thou? + +BASTARD One that will play the devil, sir, with you, + An a' may catch your hide and you alone: + You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, + Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; + I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right; + Sirrah, look to't; i' faith, I will, i' faith. + +BLANCH O, well did he become that lion's robe + That did disrobe the lion of that robe! + +BASTARD It lies as sightly on the back of him + As great Alcides' shows upon an ass: + But, ass, I'll take that burthen from your back, + Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. + +AUSTRIA What craker is this same that deafs our ears + With this abundance of superfluous breath? + +KING PHILIP Lewis, determine what we shall do straight. + +LEWIS Women and fools, break off your conference. + King John, this is the very sum of all; + England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + In right of Arthur do I claim of thee: + Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? + +KING JOHN My life as soon: I do defy thee, France. + Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand; + And out of my dear love I'll give thee more + Than e'er the coward hand of France can win: + Submit thee, boy. + +QUEEN ELINOR Come to thy grandam, child. + +CONSTANCE Do, child, go to it grandam, child: + Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will + Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig: + There's a good grandam. + +ARTHUR Good my mother, peace! + I would that I were low laid in my grave: + I am not worth this coil that's made for me. + +QUEEN ELINOR His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. + +CONSTANCE Now shame upon you, whether she does or no! + His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, + Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, + Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; + Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed + To do him justice and revenge on you. + +QUEEN ELINOR Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! + +CONSTANCE Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! + Call not me slanderer; thou and thine usurp + The dominations, royalties and rights + Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eld'st son's son, + Infortunate in nothing but in thee: + Thy sins are visited in this poor child; + The canon of the law is laid on him, + Being but the second generation + Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. + +KING JOHN Bedlam, have done. + +CONSTANCE I have but this to say, + That he is not only plagued for her sin, + But God hath made her sin and her the plague + On this removed issue, plague for her + And with her plague; her sin his injury, + Her injury the beadle to her sin, + All punish'd in the person of this child, + And all for her; a plague upon her! + +QUEEN ELINOR Thou unadvised scold, I can produce + A will that bars the title of thy son. + +CONSTANCE Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will: + A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will! + +KING PHILIP Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate: + It ill beseems this presence to cry aim + To these ill-tuned repetitions. + Some trumpet summon hither to the walls + These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak + Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. + + [Trumpet sounds. Enter certain Citizens upon the walls] + +First Citizen Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? + +KING PHILIP 'Tis France, for England. + +KING JOHN England, for itself. + You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects-- + +KING PHILIP You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, + Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle-- + +KING JOHN For our advantage; therefore hear us first. + These flags of France, that are advanced here + Before the eye and prospect of your town, + Have hither march'd to your endamagement: + The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, + And ready mounted are they to spit forth + Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls: + All preparation for a bloody siege + All merciless proceeding by these French + Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates; + And but for our approach those sleeping stones, + That as a waist doth girdle you about, + By the compulsion of their ordinance + By this time from their fixed beds of lime + Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made + For bloody power to rush upon your peace. + But on the sight of us your lawful king, + Who painfully with much expedient march + Have brought a countercheque before your gates, + To save unscratch'd your city's threatened cheeks, + Behold, the French amazed vouchsafe a parle; + And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, + To make a shaking fever in your walls, + They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, + To make a faithless error in your ears: + Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, + And let us in, your king, whose labour'd spirits, + Forwearied in this action of swift speed, + Crave harbourage within your city walls. + +KING PHILIP When I have said, make answer to us both. + Lo, in this right hand, whose protection + Is most divinely vow'd upon the right + Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, + Son to the elder brother of this man, + And king o'er him and all that he enjoys: + For this down-trodden equity, we tread + In warlike march these greens before your town, + Being no further enemy to you + Than the constraint of hospitable zeal + In the relief of this oppressed child + Religiously provokes. Be pleased then + To pay that duty which you truly owe + To that owes it, namely this young prince: + And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, + Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; + Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent + Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; + And with a blessed and unvex'd retire, + With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruised, + We will bear home that lusty blood again + Which here we came to spout against your town, + And leave your children, wives and you in peace. + But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, + 'Tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls + Can hide you from our messengers of war, + Though all these English and their discipline + Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. + Then tell us, shall your city call us lord, + In that behalf which we have challenged it? + Or shall we give the signal to our rage + And stalk in blood to our possession? + +First Citizen In brief, we are the king of England's subjects: + For him, and in his right, we hold this town. + +KING JOHN Acknowledge then the king, and let me in. + +First Citizen That can we not; but he that proves the king, + To him will we prove loyal: till that time + Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. + +KING JOHN Doth not the crown of England prove the king? + And if not that, I bring you witnesses, + Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,-- + +BASTARD Bastards, and else. + +KING JOHN To verify our title with their lives. + +KING PHILIP As many and as well-born bloods as those,-- + +BASTARD Some bastards too. + +KING PHILIP Stand in his face to contradict his claim. + +First Citizen Till you compound whose right is worthiest, + We for the worthiest hold the right from both. + +KING JOHN Then God forgive the sin of all those souls + That to their everlasting residence, + Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, + In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! + +KING PHILIP Amen, amen! Mount, chevaliers! to arms! + +BASTARD Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since + Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, + Teach us some fence! + + [To AUSTRIA] + + Sirrah, were I at home, + At your den, sirrah, with your lioness + I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, + And make a monster of you. + +AUSTRIA Peace! no more. + +BASTARD O tremble, for you hear the lion roar. + +KING JOHN Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth + In best appointment all our regiments. + +BASTARD Speed then, to take advantage of the field. + +KING PHILIP It shall be so; and at the other hill + Command the rest to stand. God and our right! + + [Exeunt] + + [Here after excursions, enter the Herald of France, + with trumpets, to the gates] + +French Herald You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, + And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in, + Who by the hand of France this day hath made + Much work for tears in many an English mother, + Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; + Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, + Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; + And victory, with little loss, doth play + Upon the dancing banners of the French, + Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, + To enter conquerors and to proclaim + Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours. + + [Enter English Herald, with trumpet] + +English Herald Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: + King John, your king and England's doth approach, + Commander of this hot malicious day: + Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, + Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; + There stuck no plume in any English crest + That is removed by a staff of France; + Our colours do return in those same hands + That did display them when we first march'd forth; + And, like a troop of jolly huntsmen, come + Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, + Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes: + Open your gates and gives the victors way. + +First Citizen Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, + From first to last, the onset and retire + Of both your armies; whose equality + By our best eyes cannot be censured: + Blood hath bought blood and blows have answered blows; + Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power: + Both are alike; and both alike we like. + One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even, + We hold our town for neither, yet for both. + + [Re-enter KING JOHN and KING PHILIP, with their + powers, severally] + +KING JOHN France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? + Say, shall the current of our right run on? + Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, + Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell + With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, + Unless thou let his silver water keep + A peaceful progress to the ocean. + +KING PHILIP England, thou hast not saved one drop of blood, + In this hot trial, more than we of France; + Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, + That sways the earth this climate overlooks, + Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, + We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, + Or add a royal number to the dead, + Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss + With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. + +BASTARD Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers, + When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! + O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; + The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; + And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, + In undetermined differences of kings. + Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? + Cry, 'havoc!' kings; back to the stained field, + You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits! + Then let confusion of one part confirm + The other's peace: till then, blows, blood and death! + +KING JOHN Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? + +KING PHILIP Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king? + +First Citizen The king of England; when we know the king. + +KING PHILIP Know him in us, that here hold up his right. + +KING JOHN In us, that are our own great deputy + And bear possession of our person here, + Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. + +First Citizen A greater power then we denies all this; + And till it be undoubted, we do lock + Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; + King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolved, + Be by some certain king purged and deposed. + +BASTARD By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, + And stand securely on their battlements, + As in a theatre, whence they gape and point + At your industrious scenes and acts of death. + Your royal presences be ruled by me: + Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, + Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend + Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town: + By east and west let France and England mount + Their battering cannon charged to the mouths, + Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down + The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city: + I'ld play incessantly upon these jades, + Even till unfenced desolation + Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. + That done, dissever your united strengths, + And part your mingled colours once again; + Turn face to face and bloody point to point; + Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth + Out of one side her happy minion, + To whom in favour she shall give the day, + And kiss him with a glorious victory. + How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? + Smacks it not something of the policy? + +KING JOHN Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, + I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers + And lay this Angiers even to the ground; + Then after fight who shall be king of it? + +BASTARD An if thou hast the mettle of a king, + Being wronged as we are by this peevish town, + Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, + As we will ours, against these saucy walls; + And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, + Why then defy each other and pell-mell + Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. + +KING PHILIP Let it be so. Say, where will you assault? + +KING JOHN We from the west will send destruction + Into this city's bosom. + +AUSTRIA I from the north. + +KING PHILIP Our thunder from the south + Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. + +BASTARD O prudent discipline! From north to south: + Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth: + I'll stir them to it. Come, away, away! + +First Citizen Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay, + And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league; + Win you this city without stroke or wound; + Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, + That here come sacrifices for the field: + Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. + +KING JOHN Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear. + +First Citizen That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, + Is niece to England: look upon the years + Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid: + If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, + Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? + If zealous love should go in search of virtue, + Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? + If love ambitious sought a match of birth, + Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch? + Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, + Is the young Dauphin every way complete: + If not complete of, say he is not she; + And she again wants nothing, to name want, + If want it be not that she is not he: + He is the half part of a blessed man, + Left to be finished by such as she; + And she a fair divided excellence, + Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. + O, two such silver currents, when they join, + Do glorify the banks that bound them in; + And two such shores to two such streams made one, + Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, + To these two princes, if you marry them. + This union shall do more than battery can + To our fast-closed gates; for at this match, + With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, + The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, + And give you entrance: but without this match, + The sea enraged is not half so deaf, + Lions more confident, mountains and rocks + More free from motion, no, not Death himself + In moral fury half so peremptory, + As we to keep this city. + +BASTARD Here's a stay + That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death + Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, + That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas, + Talks as familiarly of roaring lions + As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! + What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? + He speaks plain cannon fire, and smoke and bounce; + He gives the bastinado with his tongue: + Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his + But buffets better than a fist of France: + Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words + Since I first call'd my brother's father dad. + +QUEEN ELINOR Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; + Give with our niece a dowry large enough: + For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie + Thy now unsured assurance to the crown, + That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe + The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. + I see a yielding in the looks of France; + Mark, how they whisper: urge them while their souls + Are capable of this ambition, + Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath + Of soft petitions, pity and remorse, + Cool and congeal again to what it was. + +First Citizen Why answer not the double majesties + This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? + +KING PHILIP Speak England first, that hath been forward first + To speak unto this city: what say you? + +KING JOHN If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, + Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,' + Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen: + For Anjou and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, + And all that we upon this side the sea, + Except this city now by us besieged, + Find liable to our crown and dignity, + Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich + In titles, honours and promotions, + As she in beauty, education, blood, + Holds hand with any princess of the world. + +KING PHILIP What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face. + +LEWIS I do, my lord; and in her eye I find + A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, + The shadow of myself form'd in her eye: + Which being but the shadow of your son, + Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow: + I do protest I never loved myself + Till now infixed I beheld myself + Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. + + [Whispers with BLANCH] + +BASTARD Drawn in the flattering table of her eye! + Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow! + And quarter'd in her heart! he doth espy + Himself love's traitor: this is pity now, + That hang'd and drawn and quartered, there should be + In such a love so vile a lout as he. + +BLANCH My uncle's will in this respect is mine: + If he see aught in you that makes him like, + That any thing he sees, which moves his liking, + I can with ease translate it to my will; + Or if you will, to speak more properly, + I will enforce it easily to my love. + Further I will not flatter you, my lord, + That all I see in you is worthy love, + Than this; that nothing do I see in you, + Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge, + That I can find should merit any hate. + +KING JOHN What say these young ones? What say you my niece? + +BLANCH That she is bound in honour still to do + What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. + +KING JOHN Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady? + +LEWIS Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; + For I do love her most unfeignedly. + +KING JOHN Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, + Poictiers and Anjou, these five provinces, + With her to thee; and this addition more, + Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. + Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, + Command thy son and daughter to join hands. + +KING PHILIP It likes us well; young princes, close your hands. + +AUSTRIA And your lips too; for I am well assured + That I did so when I was first assured. + +KING PHILIP Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, + Let in that amity which you have made; + For at Saint Mary's chapel presently + The rites of marriage shall be solemnized. + Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? + I know she is not, for this match made up + Her presence would have interrupted much: + Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows. + +LEWIS She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. + +KING PHILIP And, by my faith, this league that we have made + Will give her sadness very little cure. + Brother of England, how may we content + This widow lady? In her right we came; + Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way, + To our own vantage. + +KING JOHN We will heal up all; + For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne + And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town + We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance; + Some speedy messenger bid her repair + To our solemnity: I trust we shall, + If not fill up the measure of her will, + Yet in some measure satisfy her so + That we shall stop her exclamation. + Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, + To this unlook'd for, unprepared pomp. + + [Exeunt all but the BASTARD] + +BASTARD Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! + John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, + Hath willingly departed with a part, + And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, + Whom zeal and charity brought to the field + As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear + With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, + That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith, + That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, + Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, + Who, having no external thing to lose + But the word 'maid,' cheats the poor maid of that, + That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, + Commodity, the bias of the world, + The world, who of itself is peised well, + Made to run even upon even ground, + Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, + This sway of motion, this Commodity, + Makes it take head from all indifferency, + From all direction, purpose, course, intent: + And this same bias, this Commodity, + This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, + Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, + Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, + From a resolved and honourable war, + To a most base and vile-concluded peace. + And why rail I on this Commodity? + But for because he hath not woo'd me yet: + Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, + When his fair angels would salute my palm; + But for my hand, as unattempted yet, + Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. + Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail + And say there is no sin but to be rich; + And being rich, my virtue then shall be + To say there is no vice but beggary. + Since kings break faith upon commodity, + Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I The French King's pavilion. + + + [Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY] + +CONSTANCE Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! + False blood to false blood join'd! gone to be friends! + Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? + It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard: + Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again: + It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so: + I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word + Is but the vain breath of a common man: + Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; + I have a king's oath to the contrary. + Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, + For I am sick and capable of fears, + Oppress'd with wrongs and therefore full of fears, + A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, + A woman, naturally born to fears; + And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, + With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, + But they will quake and tremble all this day. + What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? + Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? + What means that hand upon that breast of thine? + Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, + Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? + Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? + Then speak again; not all thy former tale, + But this one word, whether thy tale be true. + +SALISBURY As true as I believe you think them false + That give you cause to prove my saying true. + +CONSTANCE O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, + Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die, + And let belief and life encounter so + As doth the fury of two desperate men + Which in the very meeting fall and die. + Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? + France friend with England, what becomes of me? + Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight: + This news hath made thee a most ugly man. + +SALISBURY What other harm have I, good lady, done, + But spoke the harm that is by others done? + +CONSTANCE Which harm within itself so heinous is + As it makes harmful all that speak of it. + +ARTHUR I do beseech you, madam, be content. + +CONSTANCE If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim, + Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb, + Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, + Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, + Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks, + I would not care, I then would be content, + For then I should not love thee, no, nor thou + Become thy great birth nor deserve a crown. + But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, + Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great: + Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, + And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O, + She is corrupted, changed and won from thee; + She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, + And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France + To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, + And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. + France is a bawd to Fortune and King John, + That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! + Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? + Envenom him with words, or get thee gone + And leave those woes alone which I alone + Am bound to under-bear. + +SALISBURY Pardon me, madam, + I may not go without you to the kings. + +CONSTANCE Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee: + I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; + For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. + To me and to the state of my great grief + Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great + That no supporter but the huge firm earth + Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; + Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. + + [Seats herself on the ground] + + [Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILLIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, + QUEEN ELINOR, the BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and Attendants] + +KING PHILIP 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day + Ever in France shall be kept festival: + To solemnize this day the glorious sun + Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, + Turning with splendor of his precious eye + The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: + The yearly course that brings this day about + Shall never see it but a holiday. + +CONSTANCE A wicked day, and not a holy day! + + [Rising] + + What hath this day deserved? what hath it done, + That it in golden letters should be set + Among the high tides in the calendar? + Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, + This day of shame, oppression, perjury. + Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child + Pray that their burthens may not fall this day, + Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: + But on this day let seamen fear no wreck; + No bargains break that are not this day made: + This day, all things begun come to ill end, + Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! + +KING PHILIP By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause + To curse the fair proceedings of this day: + Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty? + +CONSTANCE You have beguiled me with a counterfeit + Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, + Proves valueless: you are forsworn, forsworn; + You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, + But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: + The grappling vigour and rough frown of war + Is cold in amity and painted peace, + And our oppression hath made up this league. + Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings! + A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens! + Let not the hours of this ungodly day + Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, + Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings! + Hear me, O, hear me! + +AUSTRIA Lady Constance, peace! + +CONSTANCE War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war + O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame + That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! + Thou little valiant, great in villany! + Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! + Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight + But when her humorous ladyship is by + To teach thee safety! thou art perjured too, + And soothest up greatness. What a fool art thou, + A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear + Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, + Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, + Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend + Upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength, + And dost thou now fall over to my fores? + Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, + And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + +AUSTRIA O, that a man should speak those words to me! + +BASTARD And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + +AUSTRIA Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life. + +BASTARD And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + +KING JOHN We like not this; thou dost forget thyself. + + [Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH] + +KING PHILIP Here comes the holy legate of the pope. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! + To thee, King John, my holy errand is. + I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, + And from Pope Innocent the legate here, + Do in his name religiously demand + Why thou against the church, our holy mother, + So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce + Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop + Of Canterbury, from that holy see? + This, in our foresaid holy father's name, + Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. + +KING JOHN What earthy name to interrogatories + Can task the free breath of a sacred king? + Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name + So slight, unworthy and ridiculous, + To charge me to an answer, as the pope. + Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England + Add thus much more, that no Italian priest + Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; + But as we, under heaven, are supreme head, + So under Him that great supremacy, + Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, + Without the assistance of a mortal hand: + So tell the pope, all reverence set apart + To him and his usurp'd authority. + +KING PHILIP Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. + +KING JOHN Though you and all the kings of Christendom + Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, + Dreading the curse that money may buy out; + And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, + Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, + Who in that sale sells pardon from himself, + Though you and all the rest so grossly led + This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish, + Yet I alone, alone do me oppose + Against the pope and count his friends my foes. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Then, by the lawful power that I have, + Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate. + And blessed shall he be that doth revolt + From his allegiance to an heretic; + And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, + Canonized and worshipped as a saint, + That takes away by any secret course + Thy hateful life. + +CONSTANCE O, lawful let it be + That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! + Good father cardinal, cry thou amen + To my keen curses; for without my wrong + There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. + +CONSTANCE And for mine too: when law can do no right, + Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong: + Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, + For he that holds his kingdom holds the law; + Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, + How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Philip of France, on peril of a curse, + Let go the hand of that arch-heretic; + And raise the power of France upon his head, + Unless he do submit himself to Rome. + +QUEEN ELINOR Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand. + +CONSTANCE Look to that, devil; lest that France repent, + And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. + +AUSTRIA King Philip, listen to the cardinal. + +BASTARD And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. + +AUSTRIA Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because-- + +BASTARD Your breeches best may carry them. + +KING JOHN Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal? + +CONSTANCE What should he say, but as the cardinal? + +LEWIS Bethink you, father; for the difference + Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, + Or the light loss of England for a friend: + Forego the easier. + +BLANCH That's the curse of Rome. + +CONSTANCE O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee here + In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. + +BLANCH The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, + But from her need. + +CONSTANCE O, if thou grant my need, + Which only lives but by the death of faith, + That need must needs infer this principle, + That faith would live again by death of need. + O then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up; + Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! + +KING JOHN The king is moved, and answers not to this. + +CONSTANCE O, be removed from him, and answer well! + +AUSTRIA Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. + +BASTARD Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. + +KING PHILIP I am perplex'd, and know not what to say. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, + If thou stand excommunicate and cursed? + +KING PHILIP Good reverend father, make my person yours, + And tell me how you would bestow yourself. + This royal hand and mine are newly knit, + And the conjunction of our inward souls + Married in league, coupled and linked together + With all religious strength of sacred vows; + The latest breath that gave the sound of words + Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love + Between our kingdoms and our royal selves, + And even before this truce, but new before, + No longer than we well could wash our hands + To clap this royal bargain up of peace, + Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and over-stain'd + With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint + The fearful difference of incensed kings: + And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood, + So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, + Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? + Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, + Make such unconstant children of ourselves, + As now again to snatch our palm from palm, + Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed + Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, + And make a riot on the gentle brow + Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, + My reverend father, let it not be so! + Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose + Some gentle order; and then we shall be blest + To do your pleasure and continue friends. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH All form is formless, order orderless, + Save what is opposite to England's love. + Therefore to arms! be champion of our church, + Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, + A mother's curse, on her revolting son. + France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, + A chafed lion by the mortal paw, + A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, + Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. + +KING PHILIP I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH So makest thou faith an enemy to faith; + And like a civil war set'st oath to oath, + Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow + First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd, + That is, to be the champion of our church! + What since thou sworest is sworn against thyself + And may not be performed by thyself, + For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss + Is not amiss when it is truly done, + And being not done, where doing tends to ill, + The truth is then most done not doing it: + The better act of purposes mistook + Is to mistake again; though indirect, + Yet indirection thereby grows direct, + And falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cools fire + Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd. + It is religion that doth make vows kept; + But thou hast sworn against religion, + By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, + And makest an oath the surety for thy truth + Against an oath: the truth thou art unsure + To swear, swears only not to be forsworn; + Else what a mockery should it be to swear! + But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; + And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. + Therefore thy later vows against thy first + Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; + And better conquest never canst thou make + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against these giddy loose suggestions: + Upon which better part our prayers come in, + If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know + The peril of our curses light on thee + So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, + But in despair die under their black weight. + +AUSTRIA Rebellion, flat rebellion! + +BASTARD Will't not be? + Will not a calfs-skin stop that mouth of thine? + +LEWIS Father, to arms! + +BLANCH Upon thy wedding-day? + Against the blood that thou hast married? + What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men? + Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, + Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp? + O husband, hear me! ay, alack, how new + Is husband in my mouth! even for that name, + Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, + Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms + Against mine uncle. + +CONSTANCE O, upon my knee, + Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, + Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom + Forethought by heaven! + +BLANCH Now shall I see thy love: what motive may + Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? + +CONSTANCE That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, + His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour! + +LEWIS I muse your majesty doth seem so cold, + When such profound respects do pull you on. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH I will denounce a curse upon his head. + +KING PHILIP Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from thee. + +CONSTANCE O fair return of banish'd majesty! + +QUEEN ELINOR O foul revolt of French inconstancy! + +KING JOHN France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. + +BASTARD Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, + Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. + +BLANCH The sun's o'ercast with blood: fair day, adieu! + Which is the side that I must go withal? + I am with both: each army hath a hand; + And in their rage, I having hold of both, + They swirl asunder and dismember me. + Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; + Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose; + Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; + Grandam, I will not wish thy fortunes thrive: + Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose + Assured loss before the match be play'd. + +LEWIS Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies. + +BLANCH There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. + +KING JOHN Cousin, go draw our puissance together. + + [Exit BASTARD] + + France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; + A rage whose heat hath this condition, + That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, + The blood, and dearest-valued blood, of France. + +KING PHILIP Thy rage sham burn thee up, and thou shalt turn + To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: + Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. + +KING JOHN No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The same. Plains near Angiers. + + + [Alarums, excursions. Enter the BASTARD, with + AUSTRIA'S head] + +BASTARD Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; + Some airy devil hovers in the sky + And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, + While Philip breathes. + + [Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT] + +KING JOHN Hubert, keep this boy. Philip, make up: + My mother is assailed in our tent, + And ta'en, I fear. + +BASTARD My lord, I rescued her; + Her highness is in safety, fear you not: + But on, my liege; for very little pains + Will bring this labour to an happy end. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter KING JOHN, + QUEEN ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, + and Lords] + +KING JOHN [To QUEEN ELINOR] So shall it be; your grace shall + stay behind + So strongly guarded. + + [To ARTHUR] + + Cousin, look not sad: + Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will + As dear be to thee as thy father was. + +ARTHUR O, this will make my mother die with grief! + +KING JOHN [To the BASTARD] Cousin, away for England! + haste before: + And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags + Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels + Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace + Must by the hungry now be fed upon: + Use our commission in his utmost force. + +BASTARD Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back, + When gold and silver becks me to come on. + I leave your highness. Grandam, I will pray, + If ever I remember to be holy, + For your fair safety; so, I kiss your hand. + +ELINOR Farewell, gentle cousin. + +KING JOHN Coz, farewell. + + [Exit the BASTARD] + +QUEEN ELINOR Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. + +KING JOHN Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, + We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh + There is a soul counts thee her creditor + And with advantage means to pay thy love: + And my good friend, thy voluntary oath + Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. + Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, + But I will fit it with some better time. + By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed + To say what good respect I have of thee. + +HUBERT I am much bounden to your majesty. + +KING JOHN Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, + But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, + Yet it shall come from me to do thee good. + I had a thing to say, but let it go: + The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, + Attended with the pleasures of the world, + Is all too wanton and too full of gawds + To give me audience: if the midnight bell + Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, + Sound on into the drowsy race of night; + If this same were a churchyard where we stand, + And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs, + Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, + Had baked thy blood and made it heavy-thick, + Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, + Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes + And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, + A passion hateful to my purposes, + Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, + Hear me without thine ears, and make reply + Without a tongue, using conceit alone, + Without eyes, ears and harmful sound of words; + Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, + I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: + But, ah, I will not! yet I love thee well; + And, by my troth, I think thou lovest me well. + +HUBERT So well, that what you bid me undertake, + Though that my death were adjunct to my act, + By heaven, I would do it. + +KING JOHN Do not I know thou wouldst? + Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye + On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, + He is a very serpent in my way; + And whereso'er this foot of mine doth tread, + He lies before me: dost thou understand me? + Thou art his keeper. + +HUBERT And I'll keep him so, + That he shall not offend your majesty. + +KING JOHN Death. + +HUBERT My lord? + +KING JOHN A grave. + +HUBERT He shall not live. + +KING JOHN Enough. + I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee; + Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: + Remember. Madam, fare you well: + I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. + +ELINOR My blessing go with thee! + +KING JOHN For England, cousin, go: + Hubert shall be your man, attend on you + With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The same. KING PHILIP'S tent. + + + [Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, CARDINAL PANDULPH, + and Attendants] + +KING PHILIP So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, + A whole armado of convicted sail + Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well. + +KING PHILIP What can go well, when we have run so ill? + Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? + Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? + And bloody England into England gone, + O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? + +LEWIS What he hath won, that hath he fortified: + So hot a speed with such advice disposed, + Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, + Doth want example: who hath read or heard + Of any kindred action like to this? + +KING PHILIP Well could I bear that England had this praise, + So we could find some pattern of our shame. + + [Enter CONSTANCE] + + Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; + Holding the eternal spirit against her will, + In the vile prison of afflicted breath. + I prithee, lady, go away with me. + +CONSTANCE Lo, now I now see the issue of your peace. + +KING PHILIP Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance! + +CONSTANCE No, I defy all counsel, all redress, + But that which ends all counsel, true redress, + Death, death; O amiable lovely death! + Thou odouriferous stench! sound rottenness! + Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, + Thou hate and terror to prosperity, + And I will kiss thy detestable bones + And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows + And ring these fingers with thy household worms + And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust + And be a carrion monster like thyself: + Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest + And buss thee as thy wife. Misery's love, + O, come to me! + +KING PHILIP O fair affliction, peace! + +CONSTANCE No, no, I will not, having breath to cry: + O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! + Then with a passion would I shake the world; + And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy + Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, + Which scorns a modern invocation. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. + +CONSTANCE Thou art not holy to belie me so; + I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; + My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; + Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: + I am not mad: I would to heaven I were! + For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: + O, if I could, what grief should I forget! + Preach some philosophy to make me mad, + And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal; + For being not mad but sensible of grief, + My reasonable part produces reason + How I may be deliver'd of these woes, + And teaches me to kill or hang myself: + If I were mad, I should forget my son, + Or madly think a babe of clouts were he: + I am not mad; too well, too well I feel + The different plague of each calamity. + +KING PHILIP Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note + In the fair multitude of those her hairs! + Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, + Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends + Do glue themselves in sociable grief, + Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, + Sticking together in calamity. + +CONSTANCE To England, if you will. + +KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs. + +CONSTANCE Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? + I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud + 'O that these hands could so redeem my son, + As they have given these hairs their liberty!' + But now I envy at their liberty, + And will again commit them to their bonds, + Because my poor child is a prisoner. + And, father cardinal, I have heard you say + That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: + If that be true, I shall see my boy again; + For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, + To him that did but yesterday suspire, + There was not such a gracious creature born. + But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud + And chase the native beauty from his cheek + And he will look as hollow as a ghost, + As dim and meagre as an ague's fit, + And so he'll die; and, rising so again, + When I shall meet him in the court of heaven + I shall not know him: therefore never, never + Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH You hold too heinous a respect of grief. + +CONSTANCE He talks to me that never had a son. + +KING PHILIP You are as fond of grief as of your child. + +CONSTANCE Grief fills the room up of my absent child, + Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, + Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, + Remembers me of all his gracious parts, + Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; + Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? + Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, + I could give better comfort than you do. + I will not keep this form upon my head, + When there is such disorder in my wit. + O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! + My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! + My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! + + [Exit] + +KING PHILIP I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. + + [Exit] + +LEWIS There's nothing in this world can make me joy: + Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale + Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; + And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste + That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Before the curing of a strong disease, + Even in the instant of repair and health, + The fit is strongest; evils that take leave, + On their departure most of all show evil: + What have you lost by losing of this day? + +LEWIS All days of glory, joy and happiness. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH If you had won it, certainly you had. + No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + 'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost + In this which he accounts so clearly won: + Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner? + +LEWIS As heartily as he is glad he hath him. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. + Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; + For even the breath of what I mean to speak + Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, + Out of the path which shall directly lead + Thy foot to England's throne; and therefore mark. + John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be + That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, + The misplaced John should entertain an hour, + One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. + A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand + Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd; + And he that stands upon a slippery place + Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: + That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; + So be it, for it cannot be but so. + +LEWIS But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? + +CARDINAL PANDULPH You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, + May then make all the claim that Arthur did. + +LEWIS And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH How green you are and fresh in this old world! + John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; + For he that steeps his safety in true blood + Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. + This act so evilly born shall cool the hearts + Of all his people and freeze up their zeal, + That none so small advantage shall step forth + To cheque his reign, but they will cherish it; + No natural exhalation in the sky, + No scope of nature, no distemper'd day, + No common wind, no customed event, + But they will pluck away his natural cause + And call them meteors, prodigies and signs, + Abortives, presages and tongues of heaven, + Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. + +LEWIS May be he will not touch young Arthur's life, + But hold himself safe in his prisonment. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, + If that young Arthur be not gone already, + Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts + Of all his people shall revolt from him + And kiss the lips of unacquainted change + And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath + Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. + Methinks I see this hurly all on foot: + And, O, what better matter breeds for you + Than I have named! The bastard Faulconbridge + Is now in England, ransacking the church, + Offending charity: if but a dozen French + Were there in arms, they would be as a call + To train ten thousand English to their side, + Or as a little snow, tumbled about, + Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, + Go with me to the king: 'tis wonderful + What may be wrought out of their discontent, + Now that their souls are topful of offence. + For England go: I will whet on the king. + +LEWIS Strong reasons make strong actions: let us go: + If you say ay, the king will not say no. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A room in a castle. + + + [Enter HUBERT and Executioners] + +HUBERT Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand + Within the arras: when I strike my foot + Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, + And bind the boy which you shall find with me + Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. + +First Executioner I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. + +HUBERT Uncleanly scruples! fear not you: look to't. + + [Exeunt Executioners] + + Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. + + [Enter ARTHUR] + +ARTHUR Good morrow, Hubert. + +HUBERT Good morrow, little prince. + +ARTHUR As little prince, having so great a title + To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. + +HUBERT Indeed, I have been merrier. + +ARTHUR Mercy on me! + Methinks no body should be sad but I: + Yet, I remember, when I was in France, + Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, + Only for wantonness. By my christendom, + So I were out of prison and kept sheep, + I should be as merry as the day is long; + And so I would be here, but that I doubt + My uncle practises more harm to me: + He is afraid of me and I of him: + Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? + No, indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven + I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. + +HUBERT [Aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate + He will awake my mercy which lies dead: + Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. + +ARTHUR Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day: + In sooth, I would you were a little sick, + That I might sit all night and watch with you: + I warrant I love you more than you do me. + +HUBERT [Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom. + Read here, young Arthur. + + [Showing a paper] + + [Aside] + + How now, foolish rheum! + Turning dispiteous torture out of door! + I must be brief, lest resolution drop + Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. + Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? + +ARTHUR Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: + Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? + +HUBERT Young boy, I must. + +ARTHUR And will you? + +HUBERT And I will. + +ARTHUR Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, + I knit my handercher about your brows, + The best I had, a princess wrought it me, + And I did never ask it you again; + And with my hand at midnight held your head, + And like the watchful minutes to the hour, + Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, + Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?' + Or 'What good love may I perform for you?' + Many a poor man's son would have lien still + And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; + But you at your sick service had a prince. + Nay, you may think my love was crafty love + And call it cunning: do, an if you will: + If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, + Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? + These eyes that never did nor never shall + So much as frown on you. + +HUBERT I have sworn to do it; + And with hot irons must I burn them out. + +ARTHUR Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! + The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, + Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears + And quench his fiery indignation + Even in the matter of mine innocence; + Nay, after that, consume away in rust + But for containing fire to harm mine eye. + Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? + An if an angel should have come to me + And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, + I would not have believed him,--no tongue but Hubert's. + +HUBERT Come forth. + + [Stamps] + + [Re-enter Executioners, with a cord, irons, &c] + + Do as I bid you do. + +ARTHUR O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out + Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. + +HUBERT Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. + +ARTHUR Alas, what need you be so boisterous-rough? + I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. + For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! + Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away, + And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; + I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, + Nor look upon the iron angerly: + Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, + Whatever torment you do put me to. + +HUBERT Go, stand within; let me alone with him. + +First Executioner I am best pleased to be from such a deed. + + [Exeunt Executioners] + +ARTHUR Alas, I then have chid away my friend! + He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart: + Let him come back, that his compassion may + Give life to yours. + +HUBERT Come, boy, prepare yourself. + +ARTHUR Is there no remedy? + +HUBERT None, but to lose your eyes. + +ARTHUR O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, + A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, + Any annoyance in that precious sense! + Then feeling what small things are boisterous there, + Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. + +HUBERT Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue. + +ARTHUR Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues + Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: + Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; + Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, + So I may keep mine eyes: O, spare mine eyes. + Though to no use but still to look on you! + Lo, by my truth, the instrument is cold + And would not harm me. + +HUBERT I can heat it, boy. + +ARTHUR No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with grief, + Being create for comfort, to be used + In undeserved extremes: see else yourself; + There is no malice in this burning coal; + The breath of heaven has blown his spirit out + And strew'd repentent ashes on his head. + +HUBERT But with my breath I can revive it, boy. + +ARTHUR An if you do, you will but make it blush + And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: + Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes; + And like a dog that is compell'd to fight, + Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. + All things that you should use to do me wrong + Deny their office: only you do lack + That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, + Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. + +HUBERT Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye + For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: + Yet am I sworn and I did purpose, boy, + With this same very iron to burn them out. + +ARTHUR O, now you look like Hubert! all this while + You were disguised. + +HUBERT Peace; no more. Adieu. + Your uncle must not know but you are dead; + I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports: + And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure, + That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, + Will not offend thee. + +ARTHUR O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. + +HUBERT Silence; no more: go closely in with me: + Much danger do I undergo for thee. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II KING JOHN'S palace. + + + [Enter KING JOHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other Lords] + +KING JOHN Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, + And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. + +PEMBROKE This 'once again,' but that your highness pleased, + Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, + And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, + The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; + Fresh expectation troubled not the land + With any long'd-for change or better state. + +SALISBURY Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + +PEMBROKE But that your royal pleasure must be done, + This act is as an ancient tale new told, + And in the last repeating troublesome, + Being urged at a time unseasonable. + +SALISBURY In this the antique and well noted face + Of plain old form is much disfigured; + And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, + It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, + Startles and frights consideration, + Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected, + For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. + +PEMBROKE When workmen strive to do better than well, + They do confound their skill in covetousness; + And oftentimes excusing of a fault + Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, + As patches set upon a little breach + Discredit more in hiding of the fault + Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. + +SALISBURY To this effect, before you were new crown'd, + We breathed our counsel: but it pleased your highness + To overbear it, and we are all well pleased, + Since all and every part of what we would + Doth make a stand at what your highness will. + +KING JOHN Some reasons of this double coronation + I have possess'd you with and think them strong; + And more, more strong, then lesser is my fear, + I shall indue you with: meantime but ask + What you would have reform'd that is not well, + And well shall you perceive how willingly + I will both hear and grant you your requests. + +PEMBROKE Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, + To sound the purpose of all their hearts, + Both for myself and them, but, chief of all, + Your safety, for the which myself and them + Bend their best studies, heartily request + The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint + Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent + To break into this dangerous argument,-- + If what in rest you have in right you hold, + Why then your fears, which, as they say, attend + The steps of wrong, should move you to mew up + Your tender kinsman and to choke his days + With barbarous ignorance and deny his youth + The rich advantage of good exercise? + That the time's enemies may not have this + To grace occasions, let it be our suit + That you have bid us ask his liberty; + Which for our goods we do no further ask + Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, + Counts it your weal he have his liberty. + + [Enter HUBERT] + +KING JOHN Let it be so: I do commit his youth + To your direction. Hubert, what news with you? + + [Taking him apart] + +PEMBROKE This is the man should do the bloody deed; + He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: + The image of a wicked heinous fault + Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his + Does show the mood of a much troubled breast; + And I do fearfully believe 'tis done, + What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. + +SALISBURY The colour of the king doth come and go + Between his purpose and his conscience, + Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: + His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. + +PEMBROKE And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence + The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. + +KING JOHN We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: + Good lords, although my will to give is living, + The suit which you demand is gone and dead: + He tells us Arthur is deceased to-night. + +SALISBURY Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure. + +PEMBROKE Indeed we heard how near his death he was + Before the child himself felt he was sick: + This must be answer'd either here or hence. + +KING JOHN Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? + Think you I bear the shears of destiny? + Have I commandment on the pulse of life? + +SALISBURY It is apparent foul play; and 'tis shame + That greatness should so grossly offer it: + So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. + +PEMBROKE Stay yet, Lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee, + And find the inheritance of this poor child, + His little kingdom of a forced grave. + That blood which owed the breadth of all this isle, + Three foot of it doth hold: bad world the while! + This must not be thus borne: this will break out + To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. + + [Exeunt Lords] + +KING JOHN They burn in indignation. I repent: + There is no sure foundation set on blood, + No certain life achieved by others' death. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood + That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? + So foul a sky clears not without a storm: + Pour down thy weather: how goes all in France? + +Messenger From France to England. Never such a power + For any foreign preparation + Was levied in the body of a land. + The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; + For when you should be told they do prepare, + The tidings come that they are all arrived. + +KING JOHN O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? + Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care, + That such an army could be drawn in France, + And she not hear of it? + +Messenger My liege, her ear + Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April died + Your noble mother: and, as I hear, my lord, + The Lady Constance in a frenzy died + Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue + I idly heard; if true or false I know not. + +KING JOHN Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! + O, make a league with me, till I have pleased + My discontented peers! What! mother dead! + How wildly then walks my estate in France! + Under whose conduct came those powers of France + That thou for truth givest out are landed here? + +Messenger Under the Dauphin. + +KING JOHN Thou hast made me giddy + With these ill tidings. + + [Enter the BASTARD and PETER of Pomfret] + + Now, what says the world + To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff + My head with more ill news, for it is full. + +BASTARD But if you be afeard to hear the worst, + Then let the worst unheard fall on your bead. + +KING JOHN Bear with me cousin, for I was amazed + Under the tide: but now I breathe again + Aloft the flood, and can give audience + To any tongue, speak it of what it will. + +BASTARD How I have sped among the clergymen, + The sums I have collected shall express. + But as I travell'd hither through the land, + I find the people strangely fantasied; + Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams, + Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: + And here a prophet, that I brought with me + From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found + With many hundreds treading on his heels; + To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, + That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, + Your highness should deliver up your crown. + +KING JOHN Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? + +PETER Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. + +KING JOHN Hubert, away with him; imprison him; + And on that day at noon whereon he says + I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd. + Deliver him to safety; and return, + For I must use thee. + + [Exeunt HUBERT with PETER] + + O my gentle cousin, + Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived? + +BASTARD The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it: + Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, + With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, + And others more, going to seek the grave + Of Arthur, who they say is kill'd to-night + On your suggestion. + +KING JOHN Gentle kinsman, go, + And thrust thyself into their companies: + I have a way to win their loves again; + Bring them before me. + +BASTARD I will seek them out. + +KING JOHN Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. + O, let me have no subject enemies, + When adverse foreigners affright my towns + With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! + Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, + And fly like thought from them to me again. + +BASTARD The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. + + [Exit] + +KING JOHN Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. + Go after him; for he perhaps shall need + Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; + And be thou he. + +Messenger With all my heart, my liege. + + [Exit] + +KING JOHN My mother dead! + + [Re-enter HUBERT] + +HUBERT My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; + Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about + The other four in wondrous motion. + +KING JOHN Five moons! + +HUBERT Old men and beldams in the streets + Do prophesy upon it dangerously: + Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: + And when they talk of him, they shake their heads + And whisper one another in the ear; + And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, + Whilst he that hears makes fearful action, + With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. + I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, + The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, + With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; + Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, + Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste + Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, + Told of a many thousand warlike French + That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent: + Another lean unwash'd artificer + Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death. + +KING JOHN Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? + Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? + Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had a mighty cause + To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. + +HUBERT No had, my lord! why, did you not provoke me? + +KING JOHN It is the curse of kings to be attended + By slaves that take their humours for a warrant + To break within the bloody house of life, + And on the winking of authority + To understand a law, to know the meaning + Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns + More upon humour than advised respect. + +HUBERT Here is your hand and seal for what I did. + +KING JOHN O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth + Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal + Witness against us to damnation! + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds + Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, + A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, + Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame, + This murder had not come into my mind: + But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, + Finding thee fit for bloody villany, + Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, + I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; + And thou, to be endeared to a king, + Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. + +HUBERT My lord-- + +KING JOHN Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause + When I spake darkly what I purposed, + Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, + As bid me tell my tale in express words, + Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, + And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: + But thou didst understand me by my signs + And didst in signs again parley with sin; + Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, + And consequently thy rude hand to act + The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. + Out of my sight, and never see me more! + My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, + Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers: + Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, + This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, + Hostility and civil tumult reigns + Between my conscience and my cousin's death. + +HUBERT Arm you against your other enemies, + I'll make a peace between your soul and you. + Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine + Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, + Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. + Within this bosom never enter'd yet + The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; + And you have slander'd nature in my form, + Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, + Is yet the cover of a fairer mind + Than to be butcher of an innocent child. + +KING JOHN Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, + Throw this report on their incensed rage, + And make them tame to their obedience! + Forgive the comment that my passion made + Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, + And foul imaginary eyes of blood + Presented thee more hideous than thou art. + O, answer not, but to my closet bring + The angry lords with all expedient haste. + I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Before the castle. + + + [Enter ARTHUR, on the walls] + +ARTHUR The wall is high, and yet will I leap down: + Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! + There's few or none do know me: if they did, + This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me quite. + I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. + If I get down, and do not break my limbs, + I'll find a thousand shifts to get away: + As good to die and go, as die and stay. + + [Leaps down] + + O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones: + Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! + + [Dies] + + [Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT] + +SALISBURY Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury: + It is our safety, and we must embrace + This gentle offer of the perilous time. + +PEMBROKE Who brought that letter from the cardinal? + +SALISBURY The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, + Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love + Is much more general than these lines import. + +BIGOT To-morrow morning let us meet him then. + +SALISBURY Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be + Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet. + + [Enter the BASTARD] + +BASTARD Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! + The king by me requests your presence straight. + +SALISBURY The king hath dispossess'd himself of us: + We will not line his thin bestained cloak + With our pure honours, nor attend the foot + That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks. + Return and tell him so: we know the worst. + +BASTARD Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. + +SALISBURY Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. + +BASTARD But there is little reason in your grief; + Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now. + +PEMBROKE Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. + +BASTARD 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man else. + +SALISBURY This is the prison. What is he lies here? + + [Seeing ARTHUR] + +PEMBROKE O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! + The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. + +SALISBURY Murder, as hating what himself hath done, + Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. + +BIGOT Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, + Found it too precious-princely for a grave. + +SALISBURY Sir Richard, what think you? have you beheld, + Or have you read or heard? or could you think? + Or do you almost think, although you see, + That you do see? could thought, without this object, + Form such another? This is the very top, + The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, + Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, + The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, + That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage + Presented to the tears of soft remorse. + +PEMBROKE All murders past do stand excused in this: + And this, so sole and so unmatchable, + Shall give a holiness, a purity, + To the yet unbegotten sin of times; + And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, + Exampled by this heinous spectacle. + +BASTARD It is a damned and a bloody work; + The graceless action of a heavy hand, + If that it be the work of any hand. + +SALISBURY If that it be the work of any hand! + We had a kind of light what would ensue: + It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; + The practise and the purpose of the king: + From whose obedience I forbid my soul, + Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, + And breathing to his breathless excellence + The incense of a vow, a holy vow, + Never to taste the pleasures of the world, + Never to be infected with delight, + Nor conversant with ease and idleness, + Till I have set a glory to this hand, + By giving it the worship of revenge. + + +PEMBROKE | + | Our souls religiously confirm thy words. +BIGOT | + + + [Enter HUBERT] + +HUBERT Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: + Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. + +SALISBURY O, he is old and blushes not at death. + Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! + +HUBERT I am no villain. + +SALISBURY Must I rob the law? + + [Drawing his sword] + +BASTARD Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. + +SALISBURY Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. + +HUBERT Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; + By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours: + I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, + Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; + Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget + Your worth, your greatness and nobility. + +BIGOT Out, dunghill! darest thou brave a nobleman? + +HUBERT Not for my life: but yet I dare defend + My innocent life against an emperor. + +SALISBURY Thou art a murderer. + +HUBERT Do not prove me so; + Yet I am none: whose tongue soe'er speaks false, + Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. + +PEMBROKE Cut him to pieces. + +BASTARD Keep the peace, I say. + +SALISBURY Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. + +BASTARD Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury: + If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, + Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, + I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; + Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, + That you shall think the devil is come from hell. + +BIGOT What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? + Second a villain and a murderer? + +HUBERT Lord Bigot, I am none. + +BIGOT Who kill'd this prince? + +HUBERT 'Tis not an hour since I left him well: + I honour'd him, I loved him, and will weep + My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. + +SALISBURY Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, + For villany is not without such rheum; + And he, long traded in it, makes it seem + Like rivers of remorse and innocency. + Away with me, all you whose souls abhor + The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; + For I am stifled with this smell of sin. + +BIGOT Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! + +PEMBROKE There tell the king he may inquire us out. + + [Exeunt Lords] + +BASTARD Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? + Beyond the infinite and boundless reach + Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, + Art thou damn'd, Hubert. + +HUBERT Do but hear me, sir. + +BASTARD Ha! I'll tell thee what; + Thou'rt damn'd as black--nay, nothing is so black; + Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer: + There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell + As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. + +HUBERT Upon my soul-- + +BASTARD If thou didst but consent + To this most cruel act, do but despair; + And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread + That ever spider twisted from her womb + Will serve to strangle thee, a rush will be a beam + To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, + Put but a little water in a spoon, + And it shall be as all the ocean, + Enough to stifle such a villain up. + I do suspect thee very grievously. + +HUBERT If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, + Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath + Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, + Let hell want pains enough to torture me. + I left him well. + +BASTARD Go, bear him in thine arms. + I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way + Among the thorns and dangers of this world. + How easy dost thou take all England up! + From forth this morsel of dead royalty, + The life, the right and truth of all this realm + Is fled to heaven; and England now is left + To tug and scamble and to part by the teeth + The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. + Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty + Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest + And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: + Now powers from home and discontents at home + Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, + As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, + The imminent decay of wrested pomp. + Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can + Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child + And follow me with speed: I'll to the king: + A thousand businesses are brief in hand, + And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. + + [Exeunt] + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I KING JOHN'S palace. + + + [Enter KING JOHN, CARDINAL PANDULPH, and Attendants] + +KING JOHN Thus have I yielded up into your hand + The circle of my glory. + + [Giving the crown] + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Take again + From this my hand, as holding of the pope + Your sovereign greatness and authority. + +KING JOHN Now keep your holy word: go meet the French, + And from his holiness use all your power + To stop their marches 'fore we are inflamed. + Our discontented counties do revolt; + Our people quarrel with obedience, + Swearing allegiance and the love of soul + To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. + This inundation of mistemper'd humour + Rests by you only to be qualified: + Then pause not; for the present time's so sick, + That present medicine must be minister'd, + Or overthrow incurable ensues. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH It was my breath that blew this tempest up, + Upon your stubborn usage of the pope; + But since you are a gentle convertite, + My tongue shall hush again this storm of war + And make fair weather in your blustering land. + On this Ascension-day, remember well, + Upon your oath of service to the pope, + Go I to make the French lay down their arms. + + [Exit] + +KING JOHN Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet + Say that before Ascension-day at noon + My crown I should give off? Even so I have: + I did suppose it should be on constraint: + But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. + + [Enter the BASTARD] + +BASTARD All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out + But Dover castle: London hath received, + Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers: + Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone + To offer service to your enemy, + And wild amazement hurries up and down + The little number of your doubtful friends. + +KING JOHN Would not my lords return to me again, + After they heard young Arthur was alive? + +BASTARD They found him dead and cast into the streets, + An empty casket, where the jewel of life + By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. + +KING JOHN That villain Hubert told me he did live. + +BASTARD So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. + But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad? + Be great in act, as you have been in thought; + Let not the world see fear and sad distrust + Govern the motion of a kingly eye: + Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; + Threaten the threatener and outface the brow + Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, + That borrow their behaviors from the great, + Grow great by your example and put on + The dauntless spirit of resolution. + Away, and glister like the god of war, + When he intendeth to become the field: + Show boldness and aspiring confidence. + What, shall they seek the lion in his den, + And fright him there? and make him tremble there? + O, let it not be said: forage, and run + To meet displeasure farther from the doors, + And grapple with him ere he comes so nigh. + +KING JOHN The legate of the pope hath been with me, + And I have made a happy peace with him; + And he hath promised to dismiss the powers + Led by the Dauphin. + +BASTARD O inglorious league! + Shall we, upon the footing of our land, + Send fair-play orders and make compromise, + Insinuation, parley and base truce + To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, + A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, + And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, + Mocking the air with colours idly spread, + And find no cheque? Let us, my liege, to arms: + Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace; + Or if he do, let it at least be said + They saw we had a purpose of defence. + +KING JOHN Have thou the ordering of this present time. + +BASTARD Away, then, with good courage! yet, I know, + Our party may well meet a prouder foe. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II LEWIS's camp at St. Edmundsbury. + + + [Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, + BIGOT, and Soldiers] + +LEWIS My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, + And keep it safe for our remembrance: + Return the precedent to these lords again; + That, having our fair order written down, + Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, + May know wherefore we took the sacrament + And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. + +SALISBURY Upon our sides it never shall be broken. + And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear + A voluntary zeal and an unurged faith + To your proceedings; yet believe me, prince, + I am not glad that such a sore of time + Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, + And heal the inveterate canker of one wound + By making many. O, it grieves my soul, + That I must draw this metal from my side + To be a widow-maker! O, and there + Where honourable rescue and defence + Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! + But such is the infection of the time, + That, for the health and physic of our right, + We cannot deal but with the very hand + Of stern injustice and confused wrong. + And is't not pity, O my grieved friends, + That we, the sons and children of this isle, + Were born to see so sad an hour as this; + Wherein we step after a stranger march + Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up + Her enemies' ranks,--I must withdraw and weep + Upon the spot of this enforced cause,-- + To grace the gentry of a land remote, + And follow unacquainted colours here? + What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove! + That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, + Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, + And grapple thee unto a pagan shore; + Where these two Christian armies might combine + The blood of malice in a vein of league, + And not to spend it so unneighbourly! + +LEWIS A noble temper dost thou show in this; + And great affections wrestling in thy bosom + Doth make an earthquake of nobility. + O, what a noble combat hast thou fought + Between compulsion and a brave respect! + Let me wipe off this honourable dew, + That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks: + My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, + Being an ordinary inundation; + But this effusion of such manly drops, + This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, + Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed + Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven + Figured quite o'er with burning meteors. + Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, + And with a great heart heave away the storm: + Commend these waters to those baby eyes + That never saw the giant world enraged; + Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, + Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. + Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep + Into the purse of rich prosperity + As Lewis himself: so, nobles, shall you all, + That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. + And even there, methinks, an angel spake: + + [Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH] + + Look, where the holy legate comes apace, + To give us warrant from the hand of heaven + And on our actions set the name of right + With holy breath. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Hail, noble prince of France! + The next is this, King John hath reconciled + Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, + That so stood out against the holy church, + The great metropolis and see of Rome: + Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up; + And tame the savage spirit of wild war, + That like a lion foster'd up at hand, + It may lie gently at the foot of peace, + And be no further harmful than in show. + +LEWIS Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back: + I am too high-born to be propertied, + To be a secondary at control, + Or useful serving-man and instrument, + To any sovereign state throughout the world. + Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars + Between this chastised kingdom and myself, + And brought in matter that should feed this fire; + And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out + With that same weak wind which enkindled it. + You taught me how to know the face of right, + Acquainted me with interest to this land, + Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; + And come ye now to tell me John hath made + His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? + I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, + After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; + And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back + Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? + Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, + What men provided, what munition sent, + To underprop this action? Is't not I + That undergo this charge? who else but I, + And such as to my claim are liable, + Sweat in this business and maintain this war? + Have I not heard these islanders shout out + 'Vive le roi!' as I have bank'd their towns? + Have I not here the best cards for the game, + To win this easy match play'd for a crown? + And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? + No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH You look but on the outside of this work. + +LEWIS Outside or inside, I will not return + Till my attempt so much be glorified + As to my ample hope was promised + Before I drew this gallant head of war, + And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world, + To outlook conquest and to win renown + Even in the jaws of danger and of death. + + [Trumpet sounds] + + What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? + + [Enter the BASTARD, attended] + +BASTARD According to the fair play of the world, + Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: + My holy lord of Milan, from the king + I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; + And, as you answer, I do know the scope + And warrant limited unto my tongue. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, + And will not temporize with my entreaties; + He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms. + +BASTARD By all the blood that ever fury breathed, + The youth says well. Now hear our English king; + For thus his royalty doth speak in me. + He is prepared, and reason too he should: + This apish and unmannerly approach, + This harness'd masque and unadvised revel, + This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, + The king doth smile at; and is well prepared + To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, + From out the circle of his territories. + That hand which had the strength, even at your door, + To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, + To dive like buckets in concealed wells, + To crouch in litter of your stable planks, + To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks, + To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out + In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake + Even at the crying of your nation's crow, + Thinking his voice an armed Englishman; + Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, + That in your chambers gave you chastisement? + No: know the gallant monarch is in arms + And like an eagle o'er his aery towers, + To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. + And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, + You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb + Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; + For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids + Like Amazons come tripping after drums, + Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, + Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts + To fierce and bloody inclination. + +LEWIS There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; + We grant thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; + We hold our time too precious to be spent + With such a brabbler. + +CARDINAL PANDULPH Give me leave to speak. + +BASTARD No, I will speak. + +LEWIS We will attend to neither. + Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war + Plead for our interest and our being here. + +BASTARD Indeed your drums, being beaten, will cry out; + And so shall you, being beaten: do but start + An echo with the clamour of thy drum, + And even at hand a drum is ready braced + That shall reverberate all as loud as thine; + Sound but another, and another shall + As loud as thine rattle the welkin's ear + And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand, + Not trusting to this halting legate here, + Whom he hath used rather for sport than need + Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits + A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day + To feast upon whole thousands of the French. + +LEWIS Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. + +BASTARD And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The field of battle. + + + [Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT] + +KING JOHN How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. + +HUBERT Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty? + +KING JOHN This fever, that hath troubled me so long, + Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, + Desires your majesty to leave the field + And send him word by me which way you go. + +KING JOHN Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. + +Messenger Be of good comfort; for the great supply + That was expected by the Dauphin here, + Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands. + This news was brought to Richard but even now: + The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. + +KING JOHN Ay me! this tyrant fever burns me up, + And will not let me welcome this good news. + Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; + Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT] + +SALISBURY I did not think the king so stored with friends. + +PEMBROKE Up once again; put spirit in the French: + If they miscarry, we miscarry too. + +SALISBURY That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, + In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. + +PEMBROKE They say King John sore sick hath left the field. + + [Enter MELUN, wounded] + +MELUN Lead me to the revolts of England here. + +SALISBURY When we were happy we had other names. + +PEMBROKE It is the Count Melun. + +SALISBURY Wounded to death. + +MELUN Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; + Unthread the rude eye of rebellion + And welcome home again discarded faith. + Seek out King John and fall before his feet; + For if the French be lords of this loud day, + He means to recompense the pains you take + By cutting off your heads: thus hath he sworn + And I with him, and many moe with me, + Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; + Even on that altar where we swore to you + Dear amity and everlasting love. + +SALISBURY May this be possible? may this be true? + +MELUN Have I not hideous death within my view, + Retaining but a quantity of life, + Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax + Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? + What in the world should make me now deceive, + Since I must lose the use of all deceit? + Why should I then be false, since it is true + That I must die here and live hence by truth? + I say again, if Lewis do win the day, + He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours + Behold another day break in the east: + But even this night, whose black contagious breath + Already smokes about the burning crest + Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun, + Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, + Paying the fine of rated treachery + Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, + If Lewis by your assistance win the day. + Commend me to one Hubert with your king: + The love of him, and this respect besides, + For that my grandsire was an Englishman, + Awakes my conscience to confess all this. + In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence + From forth the noise and rumour of the field, + Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts + In peace, and part this body and my soul + With contemplation and devout desires. + +SALISBURY We do believe thee: and beshrew my soul + But I do love the favour and the form + Of this most fair occasion, by the which + We will untread the steps of damned flight, + And like a bated and retired flood, + Leaving our rankness and irregular course, + Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd + And cabby run on in obedience + Even to our ocean, to our great King John. + My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; + For I do see the cruel pangs of death + Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight; + And happy newness, that intends old right. + + [Exeunt, leading off MELUN] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V The French camp. + + + [Enter LEWIS and his train] + +LEWIS The sun of heaven methought was loath to set, + But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, + When English measure backward their own ground + In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, + When with a volley of our needless shot, + After such bloody toil, we bid good night; + And wound our tattering colours clearly up, + Last in the field, and almost lords of it! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Where is my prince, the Dauphin? + +LEWIS Here: what news? + +Messenger The Count Melun is slain; the English lords + By his persuasion are again fall'n off, + And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, + Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. + +LEWIS Ah, foul shrewd news! beshrew thy very heart! + I did not think to be so sad to-night + As this hath made me. Who was he that said + King John did fly an hour or two before + The stumbling night did part our weary powers? + +Messenger Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. + +LEWIS Well; keep good quarter and good care to-night: + The day shall not be up so soon as I, + To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI An open place in the neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey. + + + [Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally] + +HUBERT Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. + +BASTARD A friend. What art thou? + +HUBERT Of the part of England. + +BASTARD Whither dost thou go? + +HUBERT What's that to thee? why may not I demand + Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? + +BASTARD Hubert, I think? + +HUBERT Thou hast a perfect thought: + I will upon all hazards well believe + Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well. + Who art thou? + +BASTARD Who thou wilt: and if thou please, + Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think + I come one way of the Plantagenets. + +HUBERT Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night + Have done me shame: brave soldier, pardon me, + That any accent breaking from thy tongue + Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. + +BASTARD Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? + +HUBERT Why, here walk I in the black brow of night, + To find you out. + +BASTARD Brief, then; and what's the news? + +HUBERT O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, + Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible. + +BASTARD Show me the very wound of this ill news: + I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. + +HUBERT The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: + I left him almost speechless; and broke out + To acquaint you with this evil, that you might + The better arm you to the sudden time, + Than if you had at leisure known of this. + +BASTARD How did he take it? who did taste to him? + +HUBERT A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, + Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king + Yet speaks and peradventure may recover. + +BASTARD Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? + +HUBERT Why, know you not? the lords are all come back, + And brought Prince Henry in their company; + At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, + And they are all about his majesty. + +BASTARD Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, + And tempt us not to bear above our power! + I'll tell tree, Hubert, half my power this night, + Passing these flats, are taken by the tide; + These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; + Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. + Away before: conduct me to the king; + I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING JOHN + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VII The orchard in Swinstead Abbey. + + + [Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT] + +PRINCE HENRY It is too late: the life of all his blood + Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain, + Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, + Doth by the idle comments that it makes + Foretell the ending of mortality. + + [Enter PEMBROKE] + +PEMBROKE His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief + That, being brought into the open air, + It would allay the burning quality + Of that fell poison which assaileth him. + +PRINCE HENRY Let him be brought into the orchard here. + Doth he still rage? + + [Exit BIGOT] + +PEMBROKE He is more patient + Than when you left him; even now he sung. + +PRINCE HENRY O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes + In their continuance will not feel themselves. + Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, + Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now + Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds + With many legions of strange fantasies, + Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, + Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death + should sing. + I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, + Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, + And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings + His soul and body to their lasting rest. + +SALISBURY Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born + To set a form upon that indigest + Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. + + [Enter Attendants, and BIGOT, carrying KING JOHN in a chair] + +KING JOHN Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; + It would not out at windows nor at doors. + There is so hot a summer in my bosom, + That all my bowels crumble up to dust: + I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen + Upon a parchment, and against this fire + Do I shrink up. + +PRINCE HENRY How fares your majesty? + +KING JOHN Poison'd,--ill fare--dead, forsook, cast off: + And none of you will bid the winter come + To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, + Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course + Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north + To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips + And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much, + I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait + And so ingrateful, you deny me that. + +PRINCE HENRY O that there were some virtue in my tears, + That might relieve you! + +KING JOHN The salt in them is hot. + Within me is a hell; and there the poison + Is as a fiend confined to tyrannize + On unreprievable condemned blood. + + [Enter the BASTARD] + +BASTARD O, I am scalded with my violent motion, + And spleen of speed to see your majesty! + +KING JOHN O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: + The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd, + And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail + Are turned to one thread, one little hair: + My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, + Which holds but till thy news be uttered; + And then all this thou seest is but a clod + And module of confounded royalty. + +BASTARD The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, + Where heaven He knows how we shall answer him; + For in a night the best part of my power, + As I upon advantage did remove, + Were in the Washes all unwarily + Devoured by the unexpected flood. + + [KING JOHN dies] + +SALISBURY You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. + My liege! my lord! but now a king, now thus. + +PRINCE HENRY Even so must I run on, and even so stop. + What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, + When this was now a king, and now is clay? + +BASTARD Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind + To do the office for thee of revenge, + And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, + As it on earth hath been thy servant still. + Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, + Where be your powers? show now your mended faiths, + And instantly return with me again, + To push destruction and perpetual shame + Out of the weak door of our fainting land. + Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; + The Dauphin rages at our very heels. + +SALISBURY It seems you know not, then, so much as we: + The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, + Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, + And brings from him such offers of our peace + As we with honour and respect may take, + With purpose presently to leave this war. + +BASTARD He will the rather do it when he sees + Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. + +SALISBURY Nay, it is in a manner done already; + For many carriages he hath dispatch'd + To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel + To the disposing of the cardinal: + With whom yourself, myself and other lords, + If you think meet, this afternoon will post + To consummate this business happily. + +BASTARD Let it be so: and you, my noble prince, + With other princes that may best be spared, + Shall wait upon your father's funeral. + +PRINCE HENRY At Worcester must his body be interr'd; + For so he will'd it. + +BASTARD Thither shall it then: + And happily may your sweet self put on + The lineal state and glory of the land! + To whom with all submission, on my knee + I do bequeath my faithful services + And true subjection everlastingly. + +SALISBURY And the like tender of our love we make, + To rest without a spot for evermore. + +PRINCE HENRY I have a kind soul that would give you thanks + And knows not how to do it but with tears. + +BASTARD O, let us pay the time but needful woe, + Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. + This England never did, nor never shall, + Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, + But when it first did help to wound itself. + Now these her princes are come home again, + Come the three corners of the world in arms, + And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, + If England to itself do rest but true. + + [Exeunt] + KING RICHARD II + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING RICHARD the Second. (KING RICHARD II:) + + +JOHN OF GAUNT Duke of Lancaster | + | uncles to the King. +EDMUND OF LANGLEY Duke of York (DUKE OF YORK:) | + + +HENRY, surnamed +BOLINGBROKE (HENRY BOLINGBROKE:) Duke of Hereford, + son to John of Gaunt; afterwards King Henry IV. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE son to the Duke of York. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Duke of Norfolk. + +DUKE OF SURREY: + +EARL OF SALISBURY: + +LORD BERKELEY: + + +BUSHY | + | +BAGOT | servants to King Richard. + | +GREEN | + + +EARL +OF NORTHUMBERLAND (NORTHUMBERLAND:) + +HENRY PERCY, +surnamed HOTSPUR his son. (HENRY PERCY:) + +LORD ROSS: + +LORD WILLOUGHBY: + +LORD FITZWATER: + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE: + +Abbot Of +Westminster (Abbot:) + +LORD MARSHAL (Lord Marshal:) + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP: + +SIR +PIERCE OF EXTON (EXTON:) + + Captain of a band of Welshmen. (Captain:) + +QUEEN +to King Richard (QUEEN:) + +DUCHESS OF YORK (DUCHESS OF YORK:) + +DUCHESS +OF GLOUCESTER (DUCHESS:) + + Lady attending on the Queen. (Lady:) + + Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners, + Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. (Lord:) + (First Herald:) + (Second Herald:) + (Gardener:) + (Keeper:) + (Groom:) + (Servant:) + + +SCENE England and Wales. + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. KING RICHARD II's palace. + + + [Enter KING RICHARD II, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other + Nobles and Attendants] + +KING RICHARD II Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, + Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, + Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, + Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, + Which then our leisure would not let us hear, + Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +JOHN OF GAUNT I have, my liege. + +KING RICHARD II Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, + If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; + Or worthily, as a good subject should, + On some known ground of treachery in him? + +JOHN OF GAUNT As near as I could sift him on that argument, + On some apparent danger seen in him + Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. + +KING RICHARD II Then call them to our presence; face to face, + And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear + The accuser and the accused freely speak: + High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, + In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. + + [Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE and THOMAS MOWBRAY] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Many years of happy days befal + My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Each day still better other's happiness; + Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, + Add an immortal title to your crown! + +KING RICHARD II We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, + As well appeareth by the cause you come; + Namely to appeal each other of high treason. + Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object + Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE First, heaven be the record to my speech! + In the devotion of a subject's love, + Tendering the precious safety of my prince, + And free from other misbegotten hate, + Come I appellant to this princely presence. + Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, + And mark my greeting well; for what I speak + My body shall make good upon this earth, + Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. + Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, + Too good to be so and too bad to live, + Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, + The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. + Once more, the more to aggravate the note, + With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; + And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, + What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: + 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, + The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, + Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; + The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this: + Yet can I not of such tame patience boast + As to be hush'd and nought at all to say: + First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me + From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; + Which else would post until it had return'd + These terms of treason doubled down his throat. + Setting aside his high blood's royalty, + And let him be no kinsman to my liege, + I do defy him, and I spit at him; + Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: + Which to maintain I would allow him odds, + And meet him, were I tied to run afoot + Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, + Or any other ground inhabitable, + Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. + Mean time let this defend my loyalty, + By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, + Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, + And lay aside my high blood's royalty, + Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. + If guilty dread have left thee so much strength + As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: + By that and all the rites of knighthood else, + Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, + What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY I take it up; and by that sword I swear + Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, + I'll answer thee in any fair degree, + Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: + And when I mount, alive may I not light, + If I be traitor or unjustly fight! + +KING RICHARD II What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? + It must be great that can inherit us + So much as of a thought of ill in him. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true; + That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles + In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, + The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, + Like a false traitor and injurious villain. + Besides I say and will in battle prove, + Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge + That ever was survey'd by English eye, + That all the treasons for these eighteen years + Complotted and contrived in this land + Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. + Further I say and further will maintain + Upon his bad life to make all this good, + That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, + Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, + And consequently, like a traitor coward, + Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood: + Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, + To me for justice and rough chastisement; + And, by the glorious worth of my descent, + This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. + +KING RICHARD II How high a pitch his resolution soars! + Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? + +THOMAS MOWBRAY O, let my sovereign turn away his face + And bid his ears a little while be deaf, + Till I have told this slander of his blood, + How God and good men hate so foul a liar. + +KING RICHARD II Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: + Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, + As he is but my father's brother's son, + Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow, + Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood + Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize + The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: + He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: + Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, + Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. + Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais + Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers; + The other part reserved I by consent, + For that my sovereign liege was in my debt + Upon remainder of a dear account, + Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: + Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, + I slew him not; but to my own disgrace + Neglected my sworn duty in that case. + For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, + The honourable father to my foe + Once did I lay an ambush for your life, + A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul + But ere I last received the sacrament + I did confess it, and exactly begg'd + Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it. + This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd, + It issues from the rancour of a villain, + A recreant and most degenerate traitor + Which in myself I boldly will defend; + And interchangeably hurl down my gage + Upon this overweening traitor's foot, + To prove myself a loyal gentleman + Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. + In haste whereof, most heartily I pray + Your highness to assign our trial day. + +KING RICHARD II Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me; + Let's purge this choler without letting blood: + This we prescribe, though no physician; + Deep malice makes too deep incision; + Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; + Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. + Good uncle, let this end where it begun; + We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT To be a make-peace shall become my age: + Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. + +KING RICHARD II And, Norfolk, throw down his. + +JOHN OF GAUNT When, Harry, when? + Obedience bids I should not bid again. + +KING RICHARD II Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. + My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: + The one my duty owes; but my fair name, + Despite of death that lives upon my grave, + To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. + I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here, + Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, + The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood + Which breathed this poison. + +KING RICHARD II Rage must be withstood: + Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame. + And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, + The purest treasure mortal times afford + Is spotless reputation: that away, + Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest + Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + Mine honour is my life; both grow in one: + Take honour from me, and my life is done: + Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; + In that I live and for that will I die. + +KING RICHARD II Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! + Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight? + Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height + Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue + Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, + Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear + The slavish motive of recanting fear, + And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, + Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. + + [Exit JOHN OF GAUNT] + +KING RICHARD II We were not born to sue, but to command; + Which since we cannot do to make you friends, + Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, + At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day: + There shall your swords and lances arbitrate + The swelling difference of your settled hate: + Since we can not atone you, we shall see + Justice design the victor's chivalry. + Lord marshal, command our officers at arms + Be ready to direct these home alarms. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace. + + + [Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS] + +JOHN OF GAUNT Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood + Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, + To stir against the butchers of his life! + But since correction lieth in those hands + Which made the fault that we cannot correct, + Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; + Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, + Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. + +DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? + Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? + Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, + Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, + Or seven fair branches springing from one root: + Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, + Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; + But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, + One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, + One flourishing branch of his most royal root, + Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt, + Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, + By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. + Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, + That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee + Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, + Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent + In some large measure to thy father's death, + In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, + Who was the model of thy father's life. + Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: + In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, + Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, + Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: + That which in mean men we intitle patience + Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. + What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, + The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. + +JOHN OF GAUNT God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, + His deputy anointed in His sight, + Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, + Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift + An angry arm against His minister. + +DUCHESS Where then, alas, may I complain myself? + +JOHN OF GAUNT To God, the widow's champion and defence. + +DUCHESS Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. + Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold + Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: + O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, + That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! + Or, if misfortune miss the first career, + Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, + They may break his foaming courser's back, + And throw the rider headlong in the lists, + A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! + Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife + With her companion grief must end her life. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry: + As much good stay with thee as go with me! + +DUCHESS Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, + Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: + I take my leave before I have begun, + For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. + Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. + Lo, this is all:--nay, yet depart not so; + Though this be all, do not so quickly go; + I shall remember more. Bid him--ah, what?-- + With all good speed at Plashy visit me. + Alack, and what shall good old York there see + But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, + Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? + And what hear there for welcome but my groans? + Therefore commend me; let him not come there, + To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. + Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: + The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The lists at Coventry. + + + [Enter the Lord Marshal and the DUKE OF AUMERLE] + +Lord Marshal My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. + +Lord Marshal The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, + Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay + For nothing but his majesty's approach. + + [The trumpets sound, and KING RICHARD enters with + his nobles, JOHN OF GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and + others. When they are set, enter THOMAS MOWBRAY in + arms, defendant, with a Herald] + +KING RICHARD II Marshal, demand of yonder champion + The cause of his arrival here in arms: + Ask him his name and orderly proceed + To swear him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal In God's name and the king's, say who thou art + And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, + Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel: + Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; + As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; + Who hither come engaged by my oath-- + Which God defend a knight should violate!-- + Both to defend my loyalty and truth + To God, my king and my succeeding issue, + Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me + And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, + To prove him, in defending of myself, + A traitor to my God, my king, and me: + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + + [The trumpets sound. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, + appellant, in armour, with a Herald] + +KING RICHARD II Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, + Both who he is and why he cometh hither + Thus plated in habiliments of war, + And formally, according to our law, + Depose him in the justice of his cause. + +Lord Marshal What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, + Before King Richard in his royal lists? + Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? + Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby + Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, + To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, + In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, + To God of heaven, King Richard and to me; + And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! + +Lord Marshal On pain of death, no person be so bold + Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, + Except the marshal and such officers + Appointed to direct these fair designs. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, + And bow my knee before his majesty: + For Mowbray and myself are like two men + That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; + Then let us take a ceremonious leave + And loving farewell of our several friends. + +Lord Marshal The appellant in all duty greets your highness, + And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. + +KING RICHARD II We will descend and fold him in our arms. + Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, + So be thy fortune in this royal fight! + Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, + Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE O let no noble eye profane a tear + For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear: + As confident as is the falcon's flight + Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. + My loving lord, I take my leave of you; + Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; + Not sick, although I have to do with death, + But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. + Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet + The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: + O thou, the earthly author of my blood, + Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, + Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up + To reach at victory above my head, + Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; + And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, + That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, + And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, + Even in the lusty havior of his son. + +JOHN OF GAUNT God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! + Be swift like lightning in the execution; + And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, + Fall like amazing thunder on the casque + Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: + Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive! + +THOMAS MOWBRAY However God or fortune cast my lot, + There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, + A loyal, just and upright gentleman: + Never did captive with a freer heart + Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace + His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, + More than my dancing soul doth celebrate + This feast of battle with mine adversary. + Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, + Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: + As gentle and as jocund as to jest + Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. + +KING RICHARD II Farewell, my lord: securely I espy + Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. + Order the trial, marshal, and begin. + +Lord Marshal Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, + Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. + +Lord Marshal Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk. + +First Herald Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, + Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, + A traitor to his God, his king and him; + And dares him to set forward to the fight. + +Second Herald Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, + On pain to be found false and recreant, + Both to defend himself and to approve + Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, + To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal; + Courageously and with a free desire + Attending but the signal to begin. + +Lord Marshal Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. + + [A charge sounded] + + Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. + +KING RICHARD II Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, + And both return back to their chairs again: + Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound + While we return these dukes what we decree. + + [A long flourish] + + Draw near, + And list what with our council we have done. + For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd + With that dear blood which it hath fostered; + And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect + Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword; + And for we think the eagle-winged pride + Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, + With rival-hating envy, set on you + To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle + Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; + Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums, + With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, + And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, + Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace + And make us wade even in our kindred's blood, + Therefore, we banish you our territories: + You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, + Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields + Shall not regreet our fair dominions, + But tread the stranger paths of banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Your will be done: this must my comfort be, + Sun that warms you here shall shine on me; + And those his golden beams to you here lent + Shall point on me and gild my banishment. + +KING RICHARD II Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, + Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: + The sly slow hours shall not determinate + The dateless limit of thy dear exile; + The hopeless word of 'never to return' + Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, + And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: + A dearer merit, not so deep a maim + As to be cast forth in the common air, + Have I deserved at your highness' hands. + The language I have learn'd these forty years, + My native English, now I must forego: + And now my tongue's use is to me no more + Than an unstringed viol or a harp, + Or like a cunning instrument cased up, + Or, being open, put into his hands + That knows no touch to tune the harmony: + Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, + Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; + And dull unfeeling barren ignorance + Is made my gaoler to attend on me. + I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, + Too far in years to be a pupil now: + What is thy sentence then but speechless death, + Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? + +KING RICHARD II It boots thee not to be compassionate: + After our sentence plaining comes too late. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY Then thus I turn me from my country's light, + To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. + +KING RICHARD II Return again, and take an oath with thee. + Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; + Swear by the duty that you owe to God-- + Our part therein we banish with yourselves-- + To keep the oath that we administer: + You never shall, so help you truth and God! + Embrace each other's love in banishment; + Nor never look upon each other's face; + Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile + This louring tempest of your home-bred hate; + Nor never by advised purpose meet + To plot, contrive, or complot any ill + 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I swear. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY And I, to keep all this. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:-- + By this time, had the king permitted us, + One of our souls had wander'd in the air. + Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, + As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: + Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; + Since thou hast far to go, bear not along + The clogging burthen of a guilty soul. + +THOMAS MOWBRAY No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, + My name be blotted from the book of life, + And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! + But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know; + And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. + Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; + Save back to England, all the world's my way. + + [Exit] + +KING RICHARD II Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes + I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect + Hath from the number of his banish'd years + Pluck'd four away. + + [To HENRY BOLINGBROKE] + + Six frozen winter spent, + Return with welcome home from banishment. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE How long a time lies in one little word! + Four lagging winters and four wanton springs + End in a word: such is the breath of kings. + +JOHN OF GAUNT I thank my liege, that in regard of me + He shortens four years of my son's exile: + But little vantage shall I reap thereby; + For, ere the six years that he hath to spend + Can change their moons and bring their times about + My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light + Shall be extinct with age and endless night; + My inch of taper will be burnt and done, + And blindfold death not let me see my son. + +KING RICHARD II Why uncle, thou hast many years to live. + +JOHN OF GAUNT But not a minute, king, that thou canst give: + Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, + And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; + Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, + But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; + Thy word is current with him for my death, + But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. + +KING RICHARD II Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, + Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: + Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour? + +JOHN OF GAUNT Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. + You urged me as a judge; but I had rather + You would have bid me argue like a father. + O, had it been a stranger, not my child, + To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: + A partial slander sought I to avoid, + And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. + Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, + I was too strict to make mine own away; + But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue + Against my will to do myself this wrong. + +KING RICHARD II Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so: + Six years we banish him, and he shall go. + + [Flourish. Exeunt KING RICHARD II and train] + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know, + From where you do remain let paper show. + +Lord Marshal My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, + As far as land will let me, by your side. + +JOHN OF GAUNT O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, + That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I have too few to take my leave of you, + When the tongue's office should be prodigal + To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Joy absent, grief is present for that time. + +JOHN OF GAUNT What is six winters? they are quickly gone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, + Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage. + +JOHN OF GAUNT The sullen passage of thy weary steps + Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set + The precious jewel of thy home return. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make + Will but remember me what a deal of world + I wander from the jewels that I love. + Must I not serve a long apprenticehood + To foreign passages, and in the end, + Having my freedom, boast of nothing else + But that I was a journeyman to grief? + +JOHN OF GAUNT All places that the eye of heaven visits + Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. + Teach thy necessity to reason thus; + There is no virtue like necessity. + Think not the king did banish thee, + But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, + Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. + Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour + And not the king exiled thee; or suppose + Devouring pestilence hangs in our air + And thou art flying to a fresher clime: + Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it + To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest: + Suppose the singing birds musicians, + The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, + The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more + Than a delightful measure or a dance; + For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite + The man that mocks at it and sets it light. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE O, who can hold a fire in his hand + By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? + Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite + By bare imagination of a feast? + Or wallow naked in December snow + By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? + O, no! the apprehension of the good + Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: + Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more + Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: + Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; + My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! + Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, + Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV The court. + + + [Enter KING RICHARD II, with BAGOT and GREEN at one + door; and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another] + +KING RICHARD II We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, + How far brought you high Hereford on his way? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, + But to the next highway, and there I left him. + +KING RICHARD II And say, what store of parting tears were shed? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind, + Which then blew bitterly against our faces, + Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance + Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. + +KING RICHARD II What said our cousin when you parted with him? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE 'Farewell:' + And, for my heart disdained that my tongue + Should so profane the word, that taught me craft + To counterfeit oppression of such grief + That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. + Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours + And added years to his short banishment, + He should have had a volume of farewells; + But since it would not, he had none of me. + +KING RICHARD II He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, + When time shall call him home from banishment, + Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. + Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green + Observed his courtship to the common people; + How he did seem to dive into their hearts + With humble and familiar courtesy, + What reverence he did throw away on slaves, + Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles + And patient underbearing of his fortune, + As 'twere to banish their affects with him. + Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; + A brace of draymen bid God speed him well + And had the tribute of his supple knee, + With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;' + As were our England in reversion his, + And he our subjects' next degree in hope. + +GREEN Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. + Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, + Expedient manage must be made, my liege, + Ere further leisure yield them further means + For their advantage and your highness' loss. + +KING RICHARD II We will ourself in person to this war: + And, for our coffers, with too great a court + And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, + We are inforced to farm our royal realm; + The revenue whereof shall furnish us + For our affairs in hand: if that come short, + Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; + Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, + They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold + And send them after to supply our wants; + For we will make for Ireland presently. + + [Enter BUSHY] + + Bushy, what news? + +BUSHY Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, + Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste + To entreat your majesty to visit him. + +KING RICHARD II Where lies he? + +BUSHY At Ely House. + +KING RICHARD II Now put it, God, in the physician's mind + To help him to his grave immediately! + The lining of his coffers shall make coats + To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. + Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: + Pray God we may make haste, and come too late! + +All Amen. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Ely House. + + + [Enter JOHN OF GAUNT sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, + &c] + +JOHN OF GAUNT Will the king come, that I may breathe my last + In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? + +DUKE OF YORK Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; + For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. + +JOHN OF GAUNT O, but they say the tongues of dying men + Enforce attention like deep harmony: + Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, + For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain. + He that no more must say is listen'd more + Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; + More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: + The setting sun, and music at the close, + As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, + Writ in remembrance more than things long past: + Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, + My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. + +DUKE OF YORK No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, + As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond, + Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound + The open ear of youth doth always listen; + Report of fashions in proud Italy, + Whose manners still our tardy apish nation + Limps after in base imitation. + Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity-- + So it be new, there's no respect how vile-- + That is not quickly buzzed into his ears? + Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, + Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. + Direct not him whose way himself will choose: + 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Methinks I am a prophet new inspired + And thus expiring do foretell of him: + His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, + For violent fires soon burn out themselves; + Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; + He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; + With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder: + Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, + Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. + This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, + This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, + This other Eden, demi-paradise, + This fortress built by Nature for herself + Against infection and the hand of war, + This happy breed of men, this little world, + This precious stone set in the silver sea, + Which serves it in the office of a wall, + Or as a moat defensive to a house, + Against the envy of less happier lands, + This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, + This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, + Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, + Renowned for their deeds as far from home, + For Christian service and true chivalry, + As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, + Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son, + This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, + Dear for her reputation through the world, + Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, + Like to a tenement or pelting farm: + England, bound in with the triumphant sea + Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege + Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, + With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: + That England, that was wont to conquer others, + Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. + Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, + How happy then were my ensuing death! + + [Enter KING RICHARD II and QUEEN, DUKE OF AUMERLE, + BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, LORD ROSS, and LORD + WILLOUGHBY] + +DUKE OF YORK The king is come: deal mildly with his youth; + For young hot colts being raged do rage the more. + +QUEEN How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? + +KING RICHARD II What comfort, man? how is't with aged Gaunt? + +JOHN OF GAUNT O how that name befits my composition! + Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: + Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; + And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt? + For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; + Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: + The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, + Is my strict fast; I mean, my children's looks; + And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: + Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, + Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. + +KING RICHARD II Can sick men play so nicely with their names? + +JOHN OF GAUNT No, misery makes sport to mock itself: + Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me, + I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. + +KING RICHARD II Should dying men flatter with those that live? + +JOHN OF GAUNT No, no, men living flatter those that die. + +KING RICHARD II Thou, now a-dying, say'st thou flatterest me. + +JOHN OF GAUNT O, no! thou diest, though I the sicker be. + +KING RICHARD II I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. + +JOHN OF GAUNT Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; + Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. + Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land + Wherein thou liest in reputation sick; + And thou, too careless patient as thou art, + Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure + Of those physicians that first wounded thee: + A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, + Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; + And yet, incaged in so small a verge, + The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. + O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye + Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons, + From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame, + Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, + Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. + Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, + It were a shame to let this land by lease; + But for thy world enjoying but this land, + Is it not more than shame to shame it so? + Landlord of England art thou now, not king: + Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou-- + +KING RICHARD II A lunatic lean-witted fool, + Presuming on an ague's privilege, + Darest with thy frozen admonition + Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood + With fury from his native residence. + Now, by my seat's right royal majesty, + Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, + This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head + Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders. + +JOHN OF GAUNT O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son, + For that I was his father Edward's son; + That blood already, like the pelican, + Hast thou tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused: + My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul, + Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy souls! + May be a precedent and witness good + That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood: + Join with the present sickness that I have; + And thy unkindness be like crooked age, + To crop at once a too long wither'd flower. + Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee! + These words hereafter thy tormentors be! + Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: + Love they to live that love and honour have. + + [Exit, borne off by his Attendants] + +KING RICHARD II And let them die that age and sullens have; + For both hast thou, and both become the grave. + +DUKE OF YORK I do beseech your majesty, impute his words + To wayward sickliness and age in him: + He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear + As Harry Duke of Hereford, were he here. + +KING RICHARD II Right, you say true: as Hereford's love, so his; + As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] + +NORTHUMBERLAND My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. + +KING RICHARD II What says he? + +NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, nothing; all is said + His tongue is now a stringless instrument; + Words, life and all, old Lancaster hath spent. + +DUKE OF YORK Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! + Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. + +KING RICHARD II The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he; + His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be. + So much for that. Now for our Irish wars: + We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns, + Which live like venom where no venom else + But only they have privilege to live. + And for these great affairs do ask some charge, + Towards our assistance we do seize to us + The plate, corn, revenues and moveables, + Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. + +DUKE OF YORK How long shall I be patient? ah, how long + Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? + Not Gloucester's death, nor Hereford's banishment + Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, + Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke + About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, + Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, + Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. + I am the last of noble Edward's sons, + Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first: + In war was never lion raged more fierce, + In peace was never gentle lamb more mild, + Than was that young and princely gentleman. + His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, + Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours; + But when he frown'd, it was against the French + And not against his friends; his noble hand + Did will what he did spend and spent not that + Which his triumphant father's hand had won; + His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, + But bloody with the enemies of his kin. + O Richard! York is too far gone with grief, + Or else he never would compare between. + +KING RICHARD II Why, uncle, what's the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK O my liege, + Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased + Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. + Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands + The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford? + Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live? + Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true? + Did not the one deserve to have an heir? + Is not his heir a well-deserving son? + Take Hereford's rights away, and take from Time + His charters and his customary rights; + Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day; + Be not thyself; for how art thou a king + But by fair sequence and succession? + Now, afore God--God forbid I say true!-- + If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights, + Call in the letters patent that he hath + By his attorneys-general to sue + His livery, and deny his offer'd homage, + You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, + You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts + And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts + Which honour and allegiance cannot think. + +KING RICHARD II Think what you will, we seize into our hands + His plate, his goods, his money and his lands. + +DUKE OF YORK I'll not be by the while: my liege, farewell: + What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; + But by bad courses may be understood + That their events can never fall out good. + + [Exit] + +KING RICHARD II Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight: + Bid him repair to us to Ely House + To see this business. To-morrow next + We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow: + And we create, in absence of ourself, + Our uncle York lord governor of England; + For he is just and always loved us well. + Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part; + Be merry, for our time of stay is short + + [Flourish. Exeunt KING RICHARD II, QUEEN, DUKE OF + AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, and BAGOT] + +NORTHUMBERLAND Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. + +LORD ROSS And living too; for now his son is duke. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY Barely in title, not in revenue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Richly in both, if justice had her right. + +LORD ROSS My heart is great; but it must break with silence, + Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, speak thy mind; and let him ne'er speak more + That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! + +LORD WILLOUGHBY Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of Hereford? + If it be so, out with it boldly, man; + Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. + +LORD ROSS No good at all that I can do for him; + Unless you call it good to pity him, + Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Now, afore God, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne + In him, a royal prince, and many moe + Of noble blood in this declining land. + The king is not himself, but basely led + By flatterers; and what they will inform, + Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, + That will the king severely prosecute + 'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. + +LORD ROSS The commons hath he pill'd with grievous taxes, + And quite lost their hearts: the nobles hath he fined + For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY And daily new exactions are devised, + As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what: + But what, o' God's name, doth become of this? + +NORTHUMBERLAND Wars have not wasted it, for warr'd he hath not, + But basely yielded upon compromise + That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows: + More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. + +LORD ROSS The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. + +LORD ROSS He hath not money for these Irish wars, + His burthenous taxations notwithstanding, + But by the robbing of the banish'd duke. + +NORTHUMBERLAND His noble kinsman: most degenerate king! + But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing, + Yet see no shelter to avoid the storm; + We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, + And yet we strike not, but securely perish. + +LORD ROSS We see the very wreck that we must suffer; + And unavoided is the danger now, + For suffering so the causes of our wreck. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Not so; even through the hollow eyes of death + I spy life peering; but I dare not say + How near the tidings of our comfort is. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. + +LORD ROSS Be confident to speak, Northumberland: + We three are but thyself; and, speaking so, + Thy words are but as thoughts; therefore, be bold. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Then thus: I have from Port le Blanc, a bay + In Brittany, received intelligence + That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord Cobham, + [ ] + That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, + His brother, Archbishop late of Canterbury, + Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston, + Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton and Francis Quoint, + All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Bretagne + With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war, + Are making hither with all due expedience + And shortly mean to touch our northern shore: + Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay + The first departing of the king for Ireland. + If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, + Imp out our drooping country's broken wing, + Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, + Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt + And make high majesty look like itself, + Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh; + But if you faint, as fearing to do so, + Stay and be secret, and myself will go. + +LORD ROSS To horse, to horse! urge doubts to them that fear. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The palace. + + + [Enter QUEEN, BUSHY, and BAGOT] + +BUSHY Madam, your majesty is too much sad: + You promised, when you parted with the king, + To lay aside life-harming heaviness + And entertain a cheerful disposition. + +QUEEN To please the king I did; to please myself + I cannot do it; yet I know no cause + Why I should welcome such a guest as grief, + Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest + As my sweet Richard: yet again, methinks, + Some unborn sorrow, ripe in fortune's womb, + Is coming towards me, and my inward soul + With nothing trembles: at some thing it grieves, + More than with parting from my lord the king. + +BUSHY Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, + Which shows like grief itself, but is not so; + For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, + Divides one thing entire to many objects; + Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon + Show nothing but confusion, eyed awry + Distinguish form: so your sweet majesty, + Looking awry upon your lord's departure, + Find shapes of grief, more than himself, to wail; + Which, look'd on as it is, is nought but shadows + Of what it is not. Then, thrice-gracious queen, + More than your lord's departure weep not: more's not seen; + Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye, + Which for things true weeps things imaginary. + +QUEEN It may be so; but yet my inward soul + Persuades me it is otherwise: howe'er it be, + I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad + As, though on thinking on no thought I think, + Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. + +BUSHY 'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN 'Tis nothing less: conceit is still derived + From some forefather grief; mine is not so, + For nothing had begot my something grief; + Or something hath the nothing that I grieve: + 'Tis in reversion that I do possess; + But what it is, that is not yet known; what + I cannot name; 'tis nameless woe, I wot. + + [Enter GREEN] + +GREEN God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen: + I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland. + +QUEEN Why hopest thou so? 'tis better hope he is; + For his designs crave haste, his haste good hope: + Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipp'd? + +GREEN That he, our hope, might have retired his power, + And driven into despair an enemy's hope, + Who strongly hath set footing in this land: + The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself, + And with uplifted arms is safe arrived + At Ravenspurgh. + +QUEEN Now God in heaven forbid! + +GREEN Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse, + The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy, + The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby, + With all their powerful friends, are fled to him. + +BUSHY Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland + And all the rest revolted faction traitors? + +GREEN We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester + Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship, + And all the household servants fled with him + To Bolingbroke. + +QUEEN So, Green, thou art the midwife to my woe, + And Bolingbroke my sorrow's dismal heir: + Now hath my soul brought forth her prodigy, + And I, a gasping new-deliver'd mother, + Have woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. + +BUSHY Despair not, madam. + +QUEEN Who shall hinder me? + I will despair, and be at enmity + With cozening hope: he is a flatterer, + A parasite, a keeper back of death, + Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, + Which false hope lingers in extremity. + + [Enter DUKE OF YORK] + +GREEN Here comes the Duke of York. + +QUEEN With signs of war about his aged neck: + O, full of careful business are his looks! + Uncle, for God's sake, speak comfortable words. + +DUKE OF YORK Should I do so, I should belie my thoughts: + Comfort's in heaven; and we are on the earth, + Where nothing lives but crosses, cares and grief. + Your husband, he is gone to save far off, + Whilst others come to make him lose at home: + Here am I left to underprop his land, + Who, weak with age, cannot support myself: + Now comes the sick hour that his surfeit made; + Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant My lord, your son was gone before I came. + +DUKE OF YORK He was? Why, so! go all which way it will! + The nobles they are fled, the commons they are cold, + And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. + Sirrah, get thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloucester; + Bid her send me presently a thousand pound: + Hold, take my ring. + +Servant My lord, I had forgot to tell your lordship, + To-day, as I came by, I called there; + But I shall grieve you to report the rest. + +DUKE OF YORK What is't, knave? + +Servant An hour before I came, the duchess died. + +DUKE OF YORK God for his mercy! what a tide of woes + Comes rushing on this woeful land at once! + I know not what to do: I would to God, + So my untruth had not provoked him to it, + The king had cut off my head with my brother's. + What, are there no posts dispatch'd for Ireland? + How shall we do for money for these wars? + Come, sister,--cousin, I would say--pray, pardon me. + Go, fellow, get thee home, provide some carts + And bring away the armour that is there. + + [Exit Servant] + + Gentlemen, will you go muster men? + If I know how or which way to order these affairs + Thus thrust disorderly into my hands, + Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen: + The one is my sovereign, whom both my oath + And duty bids defend; the other again + Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd, + Whom conscience and my kindred bids to right. + Well, somewhat we must do. Come, cousin, I'll + Dispose of you. + Gentlemen, go, muster up your men, + And meet me presently at Berkeley. + I should to Plashy too; + But time will not permit: all is uneven, + And every thing is left at six and seven. + + [Exeunt DUKE OF YORK and QUEEN] + +BUSHY The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland, + But none returns. For us to levy power + Proportionable to the enemy + Is all unpossible. + +GREEN Besides, our nearness to the king in love + Is near the hate of those love not the king. + +BAGOT And that's the wavering commons: for their love + Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them + By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. + +BUSHY Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. + +BAGOT If judgement lie in them, then so do we, + Because we ever have been near the king. + +GREEN Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle: + The Earl of Wiltshire is already there. + +BUSHY Thither will I with you; for little office + The hateful commons will perform for us, + Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. + Will you go along with us? + +BAGOT No; I will to Ireland to his majesty. + Farewell: if heart's presages be not vain, + We three here art that ne'er shall meet again. + +BUSHY That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. + +GREEN Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes + Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry: + Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly. + Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever. + +BUSHY Well, we may meet again. + +BAGOT I fear me, never. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Wilds in Gloucestershire. + + + [Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE How far is it, my lord, to Berkeley now? + +NORTHUMBERLAND Believe me, noble lord, + I am a stranger here in Gloucestershire: + These high wild hills and rough uneven ways + Draws out our miles, and makes them wearisome, + And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, + Making the hard way sweet and delectable. + But I bethink me what a weary way + From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found + In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, + Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled + The tediousness and process of my travel: + But theirs is sweetened with the hope to have + The present benefit which I possess; + And hope to joy is little less in joy + Than hope enjoy'd: by this the weary lords + Shall make their way seem short, as mine hath done + By sight of what I have, your noble company. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Of much less value is my company + Than your good words. But who comes here? + + [Enter HENRY PERCY] + +NORTHUMBERLAND It is my son, young Harry Percy, + Sent from my brother Worcester, whencesoever. + Harry, how fares your uncle? + +HENRY PERCY I had thought, my lord, to have learn'd his health of you. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Why, is he not with the queen? + +HENRY PERCY No, my good Lord; he hath forsook the court, + Broken his staff of office and dispersed + The household of the king. + +NORTHUMBERLAND What was his reason? + He was not so resolved when last we spake together. + +HENRY PERCY Because your lordship was proclaimed traitor. + But he, my lord, is gone to Ravenspurgh, + To offer service to the Duke of Hereford, + And sent me over by Berkeley, to discover + What power the Duke of York had levied there; + Then with directions to repair to Ravenspurgh. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Have you forgot the Duke of Hereford, boy? + +HENRY PERCY No, my good lord, for that is not forgot + Which ne'er I did remember: to my knowledge, + I never in my life did look on him. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Then learn to know him now; this is the duke. + +HENRY PERCY My gracious lord, I tender you my service, + Such as it is, being tender, raw and young: + Which elder days shall ripen and confirm + To more approved service and desert. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I thank thee, gentle Percy; and be sure + I count myself in nothing else so happy + As in a soul remembering my good friends; + And, as my fortune ripens with thy love, + It shall be still thy true love's recompense: + My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. + +NORTHUMBERLAND How far is it to Berkeley? and what stir + Keeps good old York there with his men of war? + +HENRY PERCY There stands the castle, by yon tuft of trees, + Mann'd with three hundred men, as I have heard; + And in it are the Lords of York, Berkeley, and Seymour; + None else of name and noble estimate. + + [Enter LORD ROSS and LORD WILLOUGHBY] + +NORTHUMBERLAND Here come the Lords of Ross and Willoughby, + Bloody with spurring, fiery-red with haste. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Welcome, my lords. I wot your love pursues + A banish'd traitor: all my treasury + Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enrich'd + Shall be your love and labour's recompense. + +LORD ROSS Your presence makes us rich, most noble lord. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY And far surmounts our labour to attain it. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor; + Which, till my infant fortune comes to years, + Stands for my bounty. But who comes here? + + [Enter LORD BERKELEY] + +NORTHUMBERLAND It is my Lord of Berkeley, as I guess. + +LORD BERKELEY My Lord of Hereford, my message is to you. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My lord, my answer is--to Lancaster; + And I am come to seek that name in England; + And I must find that title in your tongue, + Before I make reply to aught you say. + +LORD BERKELEY Mistake me not, my lord; 'tis not my meaning + To raze one title of your honour out: + To you, my lord, I come, what lord you will, + From the most gracious regent of this land, + The Duke of York, to know what pricks you on + To take advantage of the absent time + And fright our native peace with self-born arms. + + [Enter DUKE OF YORK attended] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I shall not need transport my words by you; + Here comes his grace in person. My noble uncle! + + [Kneels] + +DUKE OF YORK Show me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, + Whose duty is deceiveable and false. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My gracious uncle-- + +DUKE OF YORK Tut, tut! + Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle: + I am no traitor's uncle; and that word 'grace.' + In an ungracious mouth is but profane. + Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs + Dared once to touch a dust of England's ground? + But then more 'why?' why have they dared to march + So many miles upon her peaceful bosom, + Frighting her pale-faced villages with war + And ostentation of despised arms? + Comest thou because the anointed king is hence? + Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind, + And in my loyal bosom lies his power. + Were I but now the lord of such hot youth + As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself + Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of men, + From forth the ranks of many thousand French, + O, then how quickly should this arm of mine. + Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee + And minister correction to thy fault! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My gracious uncle, let me know my fault: + On what condition stands it and wherein? + +DUKE OF YORK Even in condition of the worst degree, + In gross rebellion and detested treason: + Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come + Before the expiration of thy time, + In braving arms against thy sovereign. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford; + But as I come, I come for Lancaster. + And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace + Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: + You are my father, for methinks in you + I see old Gaunt alive; O, then, my father, + Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd + A wandering vagabond; my rights and royalties + Pluck'd from my arms perforce and given away + To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born? + If that my cousin king be King of England, + It must be granted I am Duke of Lancaster. + You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin; + Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, + He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, + To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. + I am denied to sue my livery here, + And yet my letters-patents give me leave: + My father's goods are all distrain'd and sold, + And these and all are all amiss employ'd. + What would you have me do? I am a subject, + And I challenge law: attorneys are denied me; + And therefore, personally I lay my claim + To my inheritance of free descent. + +NORTHUMBERLAND The noble duke hath been too much abused. + +LORD ROSS It stands your grace upon to do him right. + +LORD WILLOUGHBY Base men by his endowments are made great. + +DUKE OF YORK My lords of England, let me tell you this: + I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs + And laboured all I could to do him right; + But in this kind to come, in braving arms, + Be his own carver and cut out his way, + To find out right with wrong, it may not be; + And you that do abet him in this kind + Cherish rebellion and are rebels all. + +NORTHUMBERLAND The noble duke hath sworn his coming is + But for his own; and for the right of that + We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; + And let him ne'er see joy that breaks that oath! + +DUKE OF YORK Well, well, I see the issue of these arms: + I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, + Because my power is weak and all ill left: + But if I could, by Him that gave me life, + I would attach you all and make you stoop + Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; + But since I cannot, be it known to you + I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; + Unless you please to enter in the castle + And there repose you for this night. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE An offer, uncle, that we will accept: + But we must win your grace to go with us + To Bristol castle, which they say is held + By Bushy, Bagot and their complices, + The caterpillars of the commonwealth, + Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. + +DUKE OF YORK It may be I will go with you: but yet I'll pause; + For I am loath to break our country's laws. + Nor friends nor foes, to me welcome you are: + Things past redress are now with me past care. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV A camp in Wales. + + + [Enter EARL OF SALISBURY and a Welsh Captain] + +Captain My lord of Salisbury, we have stay'd ten days, + And hardly kept our countrymen together, + And yet we hear no tidings from the king; + Therefore we will disperse ourselves: farewell. + +EARL OF SALISBURY Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman: + The king reposeth all his confidence in thee. + +Captain 'Tis thought the king is dead; we will not stay. + The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd + And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; + The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth + And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; + Rich men look sad and ruffians dance and leap, + The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, + The other to enjoy by rage and war: + These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. + Farewell: our countrymen are gone and fled, + As well assured Richard their king is dead. + + [Exit] + +EARL OF SALISBURY Ah, Richard, with the eyes of heavy mind + I see thy glory like a shooting star + Fall to the base earth from the firmament. + Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, + Witnessing storms to come, woe and unrest: + Thy friends are fled to wait upon thy foes, + And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Bristol. Before the castle. + + + [Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK, + NORTHUMBERLAND, LORD ROSS, HENRY PERCY, LORD + WILLOUGHBY, with BUSHY and GREEN, prisoners] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Bring forth these men. + Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls-- + Since presently your souls must part your bodies-- + With too much urging your pernicious lives, + For 'twere no charity; yet, to wash your blood + From off my hands, here in the view of men + I will unfold some causes of your deaths. + You have misled a prince, a royal king, + A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments, + By you unhappied and disfigured clean: + You have in manner with your sinful hours + Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him, + Broke the possession of a royal bed + And stain'd the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks + With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. + Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth, + Near to the king in blood, and near in love + Till you did make him misinterpret me, + Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, + And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, + Eating the bitter bread of banishment; + Whilst you have fed upon my signories, + Dispark'd my parks and fell'd my forest woods, + From my own windows torn my household coat, + Razed out my imprese, leaving me no sign, + Save men's opinions and my living blood, + To show the world I am a gentleman. + This and much more, much more than twice all this, + Condemns you to the death. See them deliver'd over + To execution and the hand of death. + +BUSHY More welcome is the stroke of death to me + Than Bolingbroke to England. Lords, farewell. + +GREEN My comfort is that heaven will take our souls + And plague injustice with the pains of hell. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd. + + [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with the + prisoners] + + Uncle, you say the queen is at your house; + For God's sake, fairly let her be entreated: + Tell her I send to her my kind commends; + Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. + +DUKE OF YORK A gentleman of mine I have dispatch'd + With letters of your love to her at large. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Thank, gentle uncle. Come, lords, away. + To fight with Glendower and his complices: + Awhile to work, and after holiday. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The coast of Wales. A castle in view. + + + [Drums; flourish and colours. Enter KING RICHARD + II, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, DUKE OF AUMERLE, and Soldiers] + +KING RICHARD II Barkloughly castle call they this at hand? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Yea, my lord. How brooks your grace the air, + After your late tossing on the breaking seas? + +KING RICHARD II Needs must I like it well: I weep for joy + To stand upon my kingdom once again. + Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, + Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs: + As a long-parted mother with her child + Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, + So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, + And do thee favours with my royal hands. + Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, + Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous sense; + But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, + And heavy-gaited toads lie in their way, + Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet + Which with usurping steps do trample thee: + Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies; + And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, + Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder + Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch + Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. + Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords: + This earth shall have a feeling and these stones + Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king + Shall falter under foul rebellion's arms. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE Fear not, my lord: that Power that made you king + Hath power to keep you king in spite of all. + The means that heaven yields must be embraced, + And not neglected; else, if heaven would, + And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse, + The proffer'd means of succor and redress. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; + Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, + Grows strong and great in substance and in power. + +KING RICHARD II Discomfortable cousin! know'st thou not + That when the searching eye of heaven is hid, + Behind the globe, that lights the lower world, + Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen + In murders and in outrage, boldly here; + But when from under this terrestrial ball + He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines + And darts his light through every guilty hole, + Then murders, treasons and detested sins, + The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, + Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves? + So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, + Who all this while hath revell'd in the night + Whilst we were wandering with the antipodes, + Shall see us rising in our throne, the east, + His treasons will sit blushing in his face, + Not able to endure the sight of day, + But self-affrighted tremble at his sin. + Not all the water in the rough rude sea + Can wash the balm off from an anointed king; + The breath of worldly men cannot depose + The deputy elected by the Lord: + For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd + To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, + God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay + A glorious angel: then, if angels fight, + Weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right. + + [Enter EARL OF SALISBURY] + + Welcome, my lord how far off lies your power? + +EARL OF SALISBURY Nor near nor farther off, my gracious lord, + Than this weak arm: discomfort guides my tongue + And bids me speak of nothing but despair. + One day too late, I fear me, noble lord, + Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth: + O, call back yesterday, bid time return, + And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men! + To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, + O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune and thy state: + For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead. + Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispersed and fled. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Comfort, my liege; why looks your grace so pale? + +KING RICHARD II But now the blood of twenty thousand men + Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; + And, till so much blood thither come again, + Have I not reason to look pale and dead? + All souls that will be safe fly from my side, + For time hath set a blot upon my pride. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. + +KING RICHARD II I had forgot myself; am I not king? + Awake, thou coward majesty! thou sleepest. + Is not the king's name twenty thousand names? + Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes + At thy great glory. Look not to the ground, + Ye favourites of a king: are we not high? + High be our thoughts: I know my uncle York + Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who comes here? + + [Enter SIR STEPHEN SCROOP] + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP More health and happiness betide my liege + Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him! + +KING RICHARD II Mine ear is open and my heart prepared; + The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold. + Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care + And what loss is it to be rid of care? + Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? + Greater he shall not be; if he serve God, + We'll serve Him too and be his fellow so: + Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mend; + They break their faith to God as well as us: + Cry woe, destruction, ruin and decay: + The worst is death, and death will have his day. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP Glad am I that your highness is so arm'd + To bear the tidings of calamity. + Like an unseasonable stormy day, + Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, + As if the world were all dissolved to tears, + So high above his limits swells the rage + Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land + With hard bright steel and hearts harder than steel. + White-beards have arm'd their thin and hairless scalps + Against thy majesty; boys, with women's voices, + Strive to speak big and clap their female joints + In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown: + The very beadsmen learn to bend their bows + Of double-fatal yew against thy state; + Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills + Against thy seat: both young and old rebel, + And all goes worse than I have power to tell. + +KING RICHARD II Too well, too well thou tell'st a tale so ill. + Where is the Earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? + What is become of Bushy? where is Green? + That they have let the dangerous enemy + Measure our confines with such peaceful steps? + If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it: + I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP Peace have they made with him indeed, my lord. + +KING RICHARD II O villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption! + Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man! + Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my heart! + Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas! + Would they make peace? terrible hell make war + Upon their spotted souls for this offence! + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP Sweet love, I see, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate: + Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made + With heads, and not with hands; those whom you curse + Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound + And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Is Bushy, Green, and the Earl of Wiltshire dead? + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP Ay, all of them at Bristol lost their heads. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Where is the duke my father with his power? + +KING RICHARD II No matter where; of comfort no man speak: + Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; + Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes + Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, + Let's choose executors and talk of wills: + And yet not so, for what can we bequeath + Save our deposed bodies to the ground? + Our lands, our lives and all are Bolingbroke's, + And nothing can we call our own but death + And that small model of the barren earth + Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. + For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground + And tell sad stories of the death of kings; + How some have been deposed; some slain in war, + Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; + Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; + All murder'd: for within the hollow crown + That rounds the mortal temples of a king + Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, + Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, + Allowing him a breath, a little scene, + To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, + Infusing him with self and vain conceit, + As if this flesh which walls about our life, + Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus + Comes at the last and with a little pin + Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! + Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood + With solemn reverence: throw away respect, + Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, + For you have but mistook me all this while: + I live with bread like you, feel want, + Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, + How can you say to me, I am a king? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE My lord, wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, + But presently prevent the ways to wail. + To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, + Gives in your weakness strength unto your foe, + And so your follies fight against yourself. + Fear and be slain; no worse can come to fight: + And fight and die is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying pays death servile breath. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE My father hath a power; inquire of him + And learn to make a body of a limb. + +KING RICHARD II Thou chidest me well: proud Bolingbroke, I come + To change blows with thee for our day of doom. + This ague fit of fear is over-blown; + An easy task it is to win our own. + Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? + Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. + +SIR STEPHEN SCROOP Men judge by the complexion of the sky + The state and inclination of the day: + So may you by my dull and heavy eye, + My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. + I play the torturer, by small and small + To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken: + Your uncle York is join'd with Bolingbroke, + And all your northern castles yielded up, + And all your southern gentlemen in arms + Upon his party. + +KING RICHARD II Thou hast said enough. + Beshrew thee, cousin, which didst lead me forth + + [To DUKE OF AUMERLE] + + Of that sweet way I was in to despair! + What say you now? what comfort have we now? + By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly + That bids me be of comfort any more. + Go to Flint castle: there I'll pine away; + A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. + That power I have, discharge; and let them go + To ear the land that hath some hope to grow, + For I have none: let no man speak again + To alter this, for counsel is but vain. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE My liege, one word. + +KING RICHARD II He does me double wrong + That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. + Discharge my followers: let them hence away, + From Richard's night to Bolingbroke's fair day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Wales. Before Flint castle. + + + [Enter, with drum and colours, HENRY BOLINGBROKE, + DUKE OF YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, Attendants, and forces] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE So that by this intelligence we learn + The Welshmen are dispersed, and Salisbury + Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed + With some few private friends upon this coast. + +NORTHUMBERLAND The news is very fair and good, my lord: + Richard not far from hence hath hid his head. + +DUKE OF YORK It would beseem the Lord Northumberland + To say 'King Richard:' alack the heavy day + When such a sacred king should hide his head. + +NORTHUMBERLAND Your grace mistakes; only to be brief + Left I his title out. + +DUKE OF YORK The time hath been, + Would you have been so brief with him, he would + Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, + For taking so the head, your whole head's length. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Mistake not, uncle, further than you should. + +DUKE OF YORK Take not, good cousin, further than you should. + Lest you mistake the heavens are o'er our heads. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I know it, uncle, and oppose not myself + Against their will. But who comes here? + + [Enter HENRY PERCY] + + Welcome, Harry: what, will not this castle yield? + +HENRY PERCY The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, + Against thy entrance. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Royally! + Why, it contains no king? + +HENRY PERCY Yes, my good lord, + It doth contain a king; King Richard lies + Within the limits of yon lime and stone: + And with him are the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, + Sir Stephen Scroop, besides a clergyman + Of holy reverence; who, I cannot learn. + +NORTHUMBERLAND O, belike it is the Bishop of Carlisle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Noble lords, + Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; + Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parley + Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver: + Henry Bolingbroke + On both his knees doth kiss King Richard's hand + And sends allegiance and true faith of heart + To his most royal person, hither come + Even at his feet to lay my arms and power, + Provided that my banishment repeal'd + And lands restored again be freely granted: + If not, I'll use the advantage of my power + And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood + Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen: + The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke + It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench + The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land, + My stooping duty tenderly shall show. + Go, signify as much, while here we march + Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. + Let's march without the noise of threatening drum, + That from this castle's tatter'd battlements + Our fair appointments may be well perused. + Methinks King Richard and myself should meet + With no less terror than the elements + Of fire and water, when their thundering shock + At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. + Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: + The rage be his, whilst on the earth I rain + My waters; on the earth, and not on him. + March on, and mark King Richard how he looks. + + [Parle without, and answer within. Then a flourish. + Enter on the walls, KING RICHARD II, the BISHOP OF + CARLISLE, DUKE OF AUMERLE, SIR STEPHEN SCROOP, and + EARL OF SALISBURY] + + See, see, King Richard doth himself appear, + As doth the blushing discontented sun + From out the fiery portal of the east, + When he perceives the envious clouds are bent + To dim his glory and to stain the track + Of his bright passage to the occident. + +DUKE OF YORK Yet looks he like a king: behold, his eye, + As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth + Controlling majesty: alack, alack, for woe, + That any harm should stain so fair a show! + +KING RICHARD II We are amazed; and thus long have we stood + To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, + + [To NORTHUMBERLAND] + + Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: + And if we be, how dare thy joints forget + To pay their awful duty to our presence? + If we be not, show us the hand of God + That hath dismissed us from our stewardship; + For well we know, no hand of blood and bone + Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, + Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. + And though you think that all, as you have done, + Have torn their souls by turning them from us, + And we are barren and bereft of friends; + Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, + Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf + Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike + Your children yet unborn and unbegot, + That lift your vassal hands against my head + And threat the glory of my precious crown. + Tell Bolingbroke--for yond methinks he stands-- + That every stride he makes upon my land + Is dangerous treason: he is come to open + The purple testament of bleeding war; + But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, + Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons + Shall ill become the flower of England's face, + Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace + To scarlet indignation and bedew + Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. + +NORTHUMBERLAND The king of heaven forbid our lord the king + Should so with civil and uncivil arms + Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice noble cousin + Harry Bolingbroke doth humbly kiss thy hand; + And by the honourable tomb he swears, + That stands upon your royal grandsire's bones, + And by the royalties of both your bloods, + Currents that spring from one most gracious head, + And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt, + And by the worth and honour of himself, + Comprising all that may be sworn or said, + His coming hither hath no further scope + Than for his lineal royalties and to beg + Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: + Which on thy royal party granted once, + His glittering arms he will commend to rust, + His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart + To faithful service of your majesty. + This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; + And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him. + +KING RICHARD II Northumberland, say thus the king returns: + His noble cousin is right welcome hither; + And all the number of his fair demands + Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: + With all the gracious utterance thou hast + Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. + We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not, + + [To DUKE OF AUMERLE] + + To look so poorly and to speak so fair? + Shall we call back Northumberland, and send + Defiance to the traitor, and so die? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE No, good my lord; let's fight with gentle words + Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords. + +KING RICHARD II O God, O God! that e'er this tongue of mine, + That laid the sentence of dread banishment + On yon proud man, should take it off again + With words of sooth! O that I were as great + As is my grief, or lesser than my name! + Or that I could forget what I have been, + Or not remember what I must be now! + Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to beat, + Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II What must the king do now? must he submit? + The king shall do it: must he be deposed? + The king shall be contented: must he lose + The name of king? o' God's name, let it go: + I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, + My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, + My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, + My figured goblets for a dish of wood, + My sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, + My subjects for a pair of carved saints + And my large kingdom for a little grave, + A little little grave, an obscure grave; + Or I'll be buried in the king's highway, + Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet + May hourly trample on their sovereign's head; + For on my heart they tread now whilst I live; + And buried once, why not upon my head? + Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin! + We'll make foul weather with despised tears; + Our sighs and they shall lodge the summer corn, + And make a dearth in this revolting land. + Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, + And make some pretty match with shedding tears? + As thus, to drop them still upon one place, + Till they have fretted us a pair of graves + Within the earth; and, therein laid,--there lies + Two kinsmen digg'd their graves with weeping eyes. + Would not this ill do well? Well, well, I see + I talk but idly, and you laugh at me. + Most mighty prince, my Lord Northumberland, + What says King Bolingbroke? will his majesty + Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? + You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says ay. + +NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, in the base court he doth attend + To speak with you; may it please you to come down. + +KING RICHARD II Down, down I come; like glistering Phaethon, + Wanting the manage of unruly jades. + In the base court? Base court, where kings grow base, + To come at traitors' calls and do them grace. + In the base court? Come down? Down, court! + down, king! + For night-owls shriek where mounting larks + should sing. + + [Exeunt from above] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE What says his majesty? + +NORTHUMBERLAND Sorrow and grief of heart + Makes him speak fondly, like a frantic man + Yet he is come. + + [Enter KING RICHARD and his attendants below] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Stand all apart, + And show fair duty to his majesty. + + [He kneels down] + + My gracious lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II Fair cousin, you debase your princely knee + To make the base earth proud with kissing it: + Me rather had my heart might feel your love + Than my unpleased eye see your courtesy. + Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, + Thus high at least, although your knee be low. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE My gracious lord, I come but for mine own. + +KING RICHARD II Your own is yours, and I am yours, and all. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, + As my true service shall deserve your love. + +KING RICHARD II Well you deserve: they well deserve to have, + That know the strong'st and surest way to get. + Uncle, give me your hands: nay, dry your eyes; + Tears show their love, but want their remedies. + Cousin, I am too young to be your father, + Though you are old enough to be my heir. + What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; + For do we must what force will have us do. + Set on towards London, cousin, is it so? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Yea, my good lord. + +KING RICHARD II Then I must not say no. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV LANGLEY. The DUKE OF YORK's garden. + + + [Enter the QUEEN and two Ladies] + +QUEEN What sport shall we devise here in this garden, + To drive away the heavy thought of care? + +Lady Madam, we'll play at bowls. + +QUEEN 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs, + And that my fortune rubs against the bias. + +Lady Madam, we'll dance. + +QUEEN My legs can keep no measure in delight, + When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: + Therefore, no dancing, girl; some other sport. + +Lady Madam, we'll tell tales. + +QUEEN Of sorrow or of joy? + +Lady Of either, madam. + +QUEEN Of neither, girl: + For of joy, being altogether wanting, + It doth remember me the more of sorrow; + Or if of grief, being altogether had, + It adds more sorrow to my want of joy: + For what I have I need not to repeat; + And what I want it boots not to complain. + +Lady Madam, I'll sing. + +QUEEN 'Tis well that thou hast cause + But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst thou weep. + +Lady I could weep, madam, would it do you good. + +QUEEN And I could sing, would weeping do me good, + And never borrow any tear of thee. + + [Enter a Gardener, and two Servants] + + But stay, here come the gardeners: + Let's step into the shadow of these trees. + My wretchedness unto a row of pins, + They'll talk of state; for every one doth so + Against a change; woe is forerun with woe. + + [QUEEN and Ladies retire] + +Gardener Go, bind thou up yon dangling apricocks, + Which, like unruly children, make their sire + Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight: + Give some supportance to the bending twigs. + Go thou, and like an executioner, + Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprays, + That look too lofty in our commonwealth: + All must be even in our government. + You thus employ'd, I will go root away + The noisome weeds, which without profit suck + The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. + +Servant Why should we in the compass of a pale + Keep law and form and due proportion, + Showing, as in a model, our firm estate, + When our sea-walled garden, the whole land, + Is full of weeds, her fairest flowers choked up, + Her fruit-trees all upturned, her hedges ruin'd, + Her knots disorder'd and her wholesome herbs + Swarming with caterpillars? + +Gardener Hold thy peace: + He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring + Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: + The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter, + That seem'd in eating him to hold him up, + Are pluck'd up root and all by Bolingbroke, + I mean the Earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. + +Servant What, are they dead? + +Gardener They are; and Bolingbroke + Hath seized the wasteful king. O, what pity is it + That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land + As we this garden! We at time of year + Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees, + Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood, + With too much riches it confound itself: + Had he done so to great and growing men, + They might have lived to bear and he to taste + Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches + We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: + Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, + Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. + +Servant What, think you then the king shall be deposed? + +Gardener Depress'd he is already, and deposed + 'Tis doubt he will be: letters came last night + To a dear friend of the good Duke of York's, + That tell black tidings. + +QUEEN O, I am press'd to death through want of speaking! + + [Coming forward] + + Thou, old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden, + How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this unpleasing news? + What Eve, what serpent, hath suggested thee + To make a second fall of cursed man? + Why dost thou say King Richard is deposed? + Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, + Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, + Camest thou by this ill tidings? speak, thou wretch. + +Gardener Pardon me, madam: little joy have I + To breathe this news; yet what I say is true. + King Richard, he is in the mighty hold + Of Bolingbroke: their fortunes both are weigh'd: + In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, + And some few vanities that make him light; + But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, + Besides himself, are all the English peers, + And with that odds he weighs King Richard down. + Post you to London, and you will find it so; + I speak no more than every one doth know. + +QUEEN Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, + Doth not thy embassage belong to me, + And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st + To serve me last, that I may longest keep + Thy sorrow in my breast. Come, ladies, go, + To meet at London London's king in woe. + What, was I born to this, that my sad look + Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? + Gardener, for telling me these news of woe, + Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow. + + [Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies] + +GARDENER Poor queen! so that thy state might be no worse, + I would my skill were subject to thy curse. + Here did she fall a tear; here in this place + I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace: + Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, + In the remembrance of a weeping queen. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Westminster Hall. + + + [Enter, as to the Parliament, HENRY BOLINGBROKE, + DUKE OF AUMERLE, NORTHUMBERLAND, HENRY PERCY, LORD + FITZWATER, DUKE OF SURREY, the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, + the Abbot Of Westminster, and another Lord, Herald, + Officers, and BAGOT] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Call forth Bagot. + Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind; + What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death, + Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd + The bloody office of his timeless end. + +BAGOT Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. + +BAGOT My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue + Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. + In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted, + I heard you say, 'Is not my arm of length, + That reacheth from the restful English court + As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' + Amongst much other talk, that very time, + I heard you say that you had rather refuse + The offer of an hundred thousand crowns + Than Bolingbroke's return to England; + Adding withal how blest this land would be + In this your cousin's death. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Princes and noble lords, + What answer shall I make to this base man? + Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, + On equal terms to give him chastisement? + Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd + With the attainder of his slanderous lips. + There is my gage, the manual seal of death, + That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, + And will maintain what thou hast said is false + In thy heart-blood, though being all too base + To stain the temper of my knightly sword. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Excepting one, I would he were the best + In all this presence that hath moved me so. + +LORD FITZWATER If that thy valour stand on sympathy, + There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: + By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, + I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it + That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. + If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest; + And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, + Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Thou darest not, coward, live to see that day. + +LORD FITZWATER Now by my soul, I would it were this hour. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. + +HENRY PERCY Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true + In this appeal as thou art all unjust; + And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, + To prove it on thee to the extremest point + Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE An if I do not, may my hands rot off + And never brandish more revengeful steel + Over the glittering helmet of my foe! + +Lord I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle; + And spur thee on with full as many lies + As may be holloa'd in thy treacherous ear + From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw at all: + I have a thousand spirits in one breast, + To answer twenty thousand such as you. + +DUKE OF SURREY My Lord Fitzwater, I do remember well + The very time Aumerle and you did talk. + +LORD FITZWATER 'Tis very true: you were in presence then; + And you can witness with me this is true. + +DUKE OF SURREY As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. + +LORD FITZWATER Surrey, thou liest. + +DUKE OF SURREY Dishonourable boy! + That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, + That it shall render vengeance and revenge + Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie + In earth as quiet as thy father's skull: + In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; + Engage it to the trial, if thou darest. + +LORD FITZWATER How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! + If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, + I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness, + And spit upon him, whilst I say he lies, + And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith, + To tie thee to my strong correction. + As I intend to thrive in this new world, + Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal: + Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say + That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men + To execute the noble duke at Calais. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Some honest Christian trust me with a gage + That Norfolk lies: here do I throw down this, + If he may be repeal'd, to try his honour. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE These differences shall all rest under gage + Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, + And, though mine enemy, restored again + To all his lands and signories: when he's return'd, + Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. + Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought + For Jesu Christ in glorious Christian field, + Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross + Against black pagans, Turks, and Saracens: + And toil'd with works of war, retired himself + To Italy; and there at Venice gave + His body to that pleasant country's earth, + And his pure soul unto his captain Christ, + Under whose colours he had fought so long. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE As surely as I live, my lord. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom + Of good old Abraham! Lords appellants, + Your differences shall all rest under gage + Till we assign you to your days of trial. + + [Enter DUKE OF YORK, attended] + +DUKE OF YORK Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee + From plume-pluck'd Richard; who with willing soul + Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields + To the possession of thy royal hand: + Ascend his throne, descending now from him; + And long live Henry, fourth of that name! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE Marry. God forbid! + Worst in this royal presence may I speak, + Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. + Would God that any in this noble presence + Were enough noble to be upright judge + Of noble Richard! then true noblesse would + Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. + What subject can give sentence on his king? + And who sits here that is not Richard's subject? + Thieves are not judged but they are by to hear, + Although apparent guilt be seen in them; + And shall the figure of God's majesty, + His captain, steward, deputy-elect, + Anointed, crowned, planted many years, + Be judged by subject and inferior breath, + And he himself not present? O, forfend it, God, + That in a Christian climate souls refined + Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed! + I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, + Stirr'd up by God, thus boldly for his king: + My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, + Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king: + And if you crown him, let me prophesy: + The blood of English shall manure the ground, + And future ages groan for this foul act; + Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels, + And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars + Shall kin with kin and kind with kind confound; + Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny + Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd + The field of Golgotha and dead men's skulls. + O, if you raise this house against this house, + It will the woefullest division prove + That ever fell upon this cursed earth. + Prevent it, resist it, let it not be so, + Lest child, child's children, cry against you woe! + +NORTHUMBERLAND Well have you argued, sir; and, for your pains, + Of capital treason we arrest you here. + My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge + To keep him safely till his day of trial. + May it please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Fetch hither Richard, that in common view + He may surrender; so we shall proceed + Without suspicion. + +DUKE OF YORK I will be his conduct. + + [Exit] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Lords, you that here are under our arrest, + Procure your sureties for your days of answer. + Little are we beholding to your love, + And little look'd for at your helping hands. + + [Re-enter DUKE OF YORK, with KING RICHARD II, and + Officers bearing the regalia] + +KING RICHARD II Alack, why am I sent for to a king, + Before I have shook off the regal thoughts + Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd + To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs: + Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me + To this submission. Yet I well remember + The favours of these men: were they not mine? + Did they not sometime cry, 'all hail!' to me? + So Judas did to Christ: but he, in twelve, + Found truth in all but one: I, in twelve thousand, none. + God save the king! Will no man say amen? + Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. + God save the king! although I be not he; + And yet, amen, if heaven do think him me. + To do what service am I sent for hither? + +DUKE OF YORK To do that office of thine own good will + Which tired majesty did make thee offer, + The resignation of thy state and crown + To Henry Bolingbroke. + +KING RICHARD II Give me the crown. Here, cousin, seize the crown; + Here cousin: + On this side my hand, and on that side yours. + Now is this golden crown like a deep well + That owes two buckets, filling one another, + The emptier ever dancing in the air, + The other down, unseen and full of water: + That bucket down and full of tears am I, + Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I thought you had been willing to resign. + +KING RICHARD II My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine: + You may my glories and my state depose, + But not my griefs; still am I king of those. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Part of your cares you give me with your crown. + +KING RICHARD II Your cares set up do not pluck my cares down. + My care is loss of care, by old care done; + Your care is gain of care, by new care won: + The cares I give I have, though given away; + They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Are you contented to resign the crown? + +KING RICHARD II Ay, no; no, ay; for I must nothing be; + Therefore no no, for I resign to thee. + Now mark me, how I will undo myself; + I give this heavy weight from off my head + And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, + The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; + With mine own tears I wash away my balm, + With mine own hands I give away my crown, + With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, + With mine own breath release all duty's rites: + All pomp and majesty I do forswear; + My manors, rents, revenues I forego; + My acts, decrees, and statutes I deny: + God pardon all oaths that are broke to me! + God keep all vows unbroke that swear to thee! + Make me, that nothing have, with nothing grieved, + And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved! + Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit, + And soon lie Richard in an earthly pit! + God save King Harry, unking'd Richard says, + And send him many years of sunshine days! + What more remains? + +NORTHUMBERLAND No more, but that you read + These accusations and these grievous crimes + Committed by your person and your followers + Against the state and profit of this land; + That, by confessing them, the souls of men + May deem that you are worthily deposed. + +KING RICHARD II Must I do so? and must I ravel out + My weaved-up folly? Gentle Northumberland, + If thy offences were upon record, + Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop + To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, + There shouldst thou find one heinous article, + Containing the deposing of a king + And cracking the strong warrant of an oath, + Mark'd with a blot, damn'd in the book of heaven: + Nay, all of you that stand and look upon, + Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself, + Though some of you with Pilate wash your hands + Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates + Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross, + And water cannot wash away your sin. + +NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, dispatch; read o'er these articles. + +KING RICHARD II Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see: + And yet salt water blinds them not so much + But they can see a sort of traitors here. + Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, + I find myself a traitor with the rest; + For I have given here my soul's consent + To undeck the pompous body of a king; + Made glory base and sovereignty a slave, + Proud majesty a subject, state a peasant. + +NORTHUMBERLAND My lord,-- + +KING RICHARD II No lord of thine, thou haught insulting man, + Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, + No, not that name was given me at the font, + But 'tis usurp'd: alack the heavy day, + That I have worn so many winters out, + And know not now what name to call myself! + O that I were a mockery king of snow, + Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, + To melt myself away in water-drops! + Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good, + An if my word be sterling yet in England, + Let it command a mirror hither straight, + That it may show me what a face I have, + Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Go some of you and fetch a looking-glass. + + [Exit an attendant] + +NORTHUMBERLAND Read o'er this paper while the glass doth come. + +KING RICHARD II Fiend, thou torment'st me ere I come to hell! + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Urge it no more, my Lord Northumberland. + +NORTHUMBERLAND The commons will not then be satisfied. + +KING RICHARD II They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, + When I do see the very book indeed + Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. + + [Re-enter Attendant, with a glass] + + Give me the glass, and therein will I read. + No deeper wrinkles yet? hath sorrow struck + So many blows upon this face of mine, + And made no deeper wounds? O flattering glass, + Like to my followers in prosperity, + Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face + That every day under his household roof + Did keep ten thousand men? was this the face + That, like the sun, did make beholders wink? + Was this the face that faced so many follies, + And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke? + A brittle glory shineth in this face: + As brittle as the glory is the face; + + [Dashes the glass against the ground] + + For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. + Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, + How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd + The shadow or your face. + +KING RICHARD II Say that again. + The shadow of my sorrow! ha! let's see: + 'Tis very true, my grief lies all within; + And these external manners of laments + Are merely shadows to the unseen grief + That swells with silence in the tortured soul; + There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, + For thy great bounty, that not only givest + Me cause to wail but teachest me the way + How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, + And then be gone and trouble you no more. + Shall I obtain it? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Name it, fair cousin. + +KING RICHARD II 'Fair cousin'? I am greater than a king: + For when I was a king, my flatterers + Were then but subjects; being now a subject, + I have a king here to my flatterer. + Being so great, I have no need to beg. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Yet ask. + +KING RICHARD II And shall I have? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE You shall. + +KING RICHARD II Then give me leave to go. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Whither? + +KING RICHARD II Whither you will, so I were from your sights. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Go, some of you convey him to the Tower. + +KING RICHARD II O, good! convey? conveyers are you all, + That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. + + [Exeunt KING RICHARD II, some Lords, and a Guard] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE On Wednesday next we solemnly set down + Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselves. + + [Exeunt all except the BISHOP OF CARLISLE, the Abbot + of Westminster, and DUKE OF AUMERLE] + +Abbot A woeful pageant have we here beheld. + +BISHOP OF CARLISLE The woe's to come; the children yet unborn. + Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE You holy clergymen, is there no plot + To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? + +Abbot My lord, + Before I freely speak my mind herein, + You shall not only take the sacrament + To bury mine intents, but also to effect + Whatever I shall happen to devise. + I see your brows are full of discontent, + Your hearts of sorrow and your eyes of tears: + Come home with me to supper; and I'll lay + A plot shall show us all a merry day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I London. A street leading to the Tower. + + + [Enter QUEEN and Ladies] + +QUEEN This way the king will come; this is the way + To Julius Caesar's ill-erected tower, + To whose flint bosom my condemned lord + Is doom'd a prisoner by proud Bolingbroke: + Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth + Have any resting for her true king's queen. + + [Enter KING RICHARD II and Guard] + + But soft, but see, or rather do not see, + My fair rose wither: yet look up, behold, + That you in pity may dissolve to dew, + And wash him fresh again with true-love tears. + Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand, + Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb, + And not King Richard; thou most beauteous inn, + Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in thee, + When triumph is become an alehouse guest? + +KING RICHARD II Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, + To make my end too sudden: learn, good soul, + To think our former state a happy dream; + From which awaked, the truth of what we are + Shows us but this: I am sworn brother, sweet, + To grim Necessity, and he and I + Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France + And cloister thee in some religious house: + Our holy lives must win a new world's crown, + Which our profane hours here have stricken down. + +QUEEN What, is my Richard both in shape and mind + Transform'd and weaken'd? hath Bolingbroke deposed + Thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? + The lion dying thrusteth forth his paw, + And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage + To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like, + Take thy correction mildly, kiss the rod, + And fawn on rage with base humility, + Which art a lion and a king of beasts? + +KING RICHARD II A king of beasts, indeed; if aught but beasts, + I had been still a happy king of men. + Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for France: + Think I am dead and that even here thou takest, + As from my death-bed, thy last living leave. + In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire + With good old folks and let them tell thee tales + Of woeful ages long ago betid; + And ere thou bid good night, to quit their griefs, + Tell thou the lamentable tale of me + And send the hearers weeping to their beds: + For why, the senseless brands will sympathize + The heavy accent of thy moving tongue + And in compassion weep the fire out; + And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, + For the deposing of a rightful king. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND and others] + +NORTHUMBERLAND My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is changed: + You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. + And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; + With all swift speed you must away to France. + +KING RICHARD II Northumberland, thou ladder wherewithal + The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, + The time shall not be many hours of age + More than it is ere foul sin gathering head + Shalt break into corruption: thou shalt think, + Though he divide the realm and give thee half, + It is too little, helping him to all; + And he shall think that thou, which know'st the way + To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, + Being ne'er so little urged, another way + To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne. + The love of wicked men converts to fear; + That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both + To worthy danger and deserved death. + +NORTHUMBERLAND My guilt be on my head, and there an end. + Take leave and part; for you must part forthwith. + +KING RICHARD II Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate + A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, + And then betwixt me and my married wife. + Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; + And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. + Part us, Northumberland; I toward the north, + Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime; + My wife to France: from whence, set forth in pomp, + She came adorned hither like sweet May, + Sent back like Hallowmas or short'st of day. + +QUEEN And must we be divided? must we part? + +KING RICHARD II Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart from heart. + +QUEEN Banish us both and send the king with me. + +NORTHUMBERLAND That were some love but little policy. + +QUEEN Then whither he goes, thither let me go. + +KING RICHARD II So two, together weeping, make one woe. + Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; + Better far off than near, be ne'er the near. + Go, count thy way with sighs; I mine with groans. + +QUEEN So longest way shall have the longest moans. + +KING RICHARD II Twice for one step I'll groan, the way being short, + And piece the way out with a heavy heart. + Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief, + Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief; + One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part; + Thus give I mine, and thus take I thy heart. + +QUEEN Give me mine own again; 'twere no good part + To take on me to keep and kill thy heart. + So, now I have mine own again, be gone, + That I might strive to kill it with a groan. + +KING RICHARD II We make woe wanton with this fond delay: + Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow say. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The DUKE OF YORK's palace. + + + [Enter DUKE OF YORK and DUCHESS OF YORK] + +DUCHESS OF YORK My lord, you told me you would tell the rest, + When weeping made you break the story off, + of our two cousins coming into London. + +DUKE OF YORK Where did I leave? + +DUCHESS OF YORK At that sad stop, my lord, + Where rude misgovern'd hands from windows' tops + Threw dust and rubbish on King Richard's head. + +DUKE OF YORK Then, as I said, the duke, great Bolingbroke, + Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed + Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know, + With slow but stately pace kept on his course, + Whilst all tongues cried 'God save thee, + Bolingbroke!' + You would have thought the very windows spake, + So many greedy looks of young and old + Through casements darted their desiring eyes + Upon his visage, and that all the walls + With painted imagery had said at once + 'Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke!' + Whilst he, from the one side to the other turning, + Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, + Bespake them thus: 'I thank you, countrymen:' + And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? + +DUKE OF YORK As in a theatre, the eyes of men, + After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, + Are idly bent on him that enters next, + Thinking his prattle to be tedious; + Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes + Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!' + No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: + But dust was thrown upon his sacred head: + Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, + His face still combating with tears and smiles, + The badges of his grief and patience, + That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd + The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted + And barbarism itself have pitied him. + But heaven hath a hand in these events, + To whose high will we bound our calm contents. + To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, + Whose state and honour I for aye allow. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Here comes my son Aumerle. + +DUKE OF YORK Aumerle that was; + But that is lost for being Richard's friend, + And, madam, you must call him Rutland now: + I am in parliament pledge for his truth + And lasting fealty to the new-made king. + + [Enter DUKE OF AUMERLE] + +DUCHESS OF YORK Welcome, my son: who are the violets now + That strew the green lap of the new come spring? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: + God knows I had as lief be none as one. + +DUKE OF YORK Well, bear you well in this new spring of time, + Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime. + What news from Oxford? hold those justs and triumphs? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE For aught I know, my lord, they do. + +DUKE OF YORK You will be there, I know. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE If God prevent not, I purpose so. + +DUKE OF YORK What seal is that, that hangs without thy bosom? + Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE My lord, 'tis nothing. + +DUKE OF YORK No matter, then, who see it; + I will be satisfied; let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE I do beseech your grace to pardon me: + It is a matter of small consequence, + Which for some reasons I would not have seen. + +DUKE OF YORK Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. + I fear, I fear,-- + +DUCHESS OF YORK What should you fear? + 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into + For gay apparel 'gainst the triumph day. + +DUKE OF YORK Bound to himself! what doth he with a bond + That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. + Boy, let me see the writing. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not show it. + +DUKE OF YORK I will be satisfied; let me see it, I say. + + [He plucks it out of his bosom and reads it] + + Treason! foul treason! Villain! traitor! slave! + +DUCHESS OF YORK What is the matter, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK Ho! who is within there? + + [Enter a Servant] + + Saddle my horse. + God for his mercy, what treachery is here! + +DUCHESS OF YORK Why, what is it, my lord? + +DUKE OF YORK Give me my boots, I say; saddle my horse. + Now, by mine honour, by my life, by my troth, + I will appeach the villain. + +DUCHESS OF YORK What is the matter? + +DUKE OF YORK Peace, foolish woman. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I will not peace. What is the matter, Aumerle. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Good mother, be content; it is no more + Than my poor life must answer. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Thy life answer! + +DUKE OF YORK Bring me my boots: I will unto the king. + + [Re-enter Servant with boots] + +DUCHESS OF YORK Strike him, Aumerle. Poor boy, thou art amazed. + Hence, villain! never more come in my sight. + +DUKE OF YORK Give me my boots, I say. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Why, York, what wilt thou do? + Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own? + Have we more sons? or are we like to have? + Is not my teeming date drunk up with time? + And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age, + And rob me of a happy mother's name? + Is he not like thee? is he not thine own? + +DUKE OF YORK Thou fond mad woman, + Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? + A dozen of them here have ta'en the sacrament, + And interchangeably set down their hands, + To kill the king at Oxford. + +DUCHESS OF YORK He shall be none; + We'll keep him here: then what is that to him? + +DUKE OF YORK Away, fond woman! were he twenty times my son, + I would appeach him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Hadst thou groan'd for him + As I have done, thou wouldst be more pitiful. + But now I know thy mind; thou dost suspect + That I have been disloyal to thy bed, + And that he is a bastard, not thy son: + Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that mind: + He is as like thee as a man may be, + Not like to me, or any of my kin, + And yet I love him. + +DUKE OF YORK Make way, unruly woman! + + [Exit] + +DUCHESS OF YORK After, Aumerle! mount thee upon his horse; + Spur post, and get before him to the king, + And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. + I'll not be long behind; though I be old, + I doubt not but to ride as fast as York: + And never will I rise up from the ground + Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee. Away, be gone! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III A royal palace. + + + [Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, HENRY PERCY, and other Lords] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Can no man tell me of my unthrifty son? + 'Tis full three months since I did see him last; + If any plague hang over us, 'tis he. + I would to God, my lords, he might be found: + Inquire at London, 'mongst the taverns there, + For there, they say, he daily doth frequent, + With unrestrained loose companions, + Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes, + And beat our watch, and rob our passengers; + Which he, young wanton and effeminate boy, + Takes on the point of honour to support + So dissolute a crew. + +HENRY PERCY My lord, some two days since I saw the prince, + And told him of those triumphs held at Oxford. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE And what said the gallant? + +HENRY PERCY His answer was, he would unto the stews, + And from the common'st creature pluck a glove, + And wear it as a favour; and with that + He would unhorse the lustiest challenger. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE As dissolute as desperate; yet through both + I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years + May happily bring forth. But who comes here? + + [Enter DUKE OF AUMERLE] + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Where is the king? + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE What means our cousin, that he stares and looks + So wildly? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE God save your grace! I do beseech your majesty, + To have some conference with your grace alone. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Withdraw yourselves, and leave us here alone. + + [Exeunt HENRY PERCY and Lords] + + What is the matter with our cousin now? + +DUKE OF AUMERLE For ever may my knees grow to the earth, + My tongue cleave to my roof within my mouth + Unless a pardon ere I rise or speak. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Intended or committed was this fault? + If on the first, how heinous e'er it be, + To win thy after-love I pardon thee. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Then give me leave that I may turn the key, + That no man enter till my tale be done. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Have thy desire. + +DUKE OF YORK [Within] My liege, beware; look to thyself; + Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Villain, I'll make thee safe. + + [Drawing] + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear. + +DUKE OF YORK [Within] Open the door, secure, foolhardy king: + Shall I for love speak treason to thy face? + Open the door, or I will break it open. + + [Enter DUKE OF YORK] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE What is the matter, uncle? speak; + Recover breath; tell us how near is danger, + That we may arm us to encounter it. + +DUKE OF YORK Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know + The treason that my haste forbids me show. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise pass'd: + I do repent me; read not my name there + My heart is not confederate with my hand. + +DUKE OF YORK It was, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. + I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; + Fear, and not love, begets his penitence: + Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove + A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE O heinous, strong and bold conspiracy! + O loyal father of a treacherous son! + Thou sheer, immaculate and silver fountain, + From when this stream through muddy passages + Hath held his current and defiled himself! + Thy overflow of good converts to bad, + And thy abundant goodness shall excuse + This deadly blot in thy digressing son. + +DUKE OF YORK So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd; + And he shall spend mine honour with his shame, + As thriftless sons their scraping fathers' gold. + Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies, + Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies: + Thou kill'st me in his life; giving him breath, + The traitor lives, the true man's put to death. + +DUCHESS OF YORK [Within] What ho, my liege! for God's sake, + let me in. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE What shrill-voiced suppliant makes this eager cry? + +DUCHESS OF YORK A woman, and thy aunt, great king; 'tis I. + Speak with me, pity me, open the door. + A beggar begs that never begg'd before. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Our scene is alter'd from a serious thing, + And now changed to 'The Beggar and the King.' + My dangerous cousin, let your mother in: + I know she is come to pray for your foul sin. + +DUKE OF YORK If thou do pardon, whosoever pray, + More sins for this forgiveness prosper may. + This fester'd joint cut off, the rest rest sound; + This let alone will all the rest confound. + + [Enter DUCHESS OF YORK] + +DUCHESS OF YORK O king, believe not this hard-hearted man! + Love loving not itself none other can. + +DUKE OF YORK Thou frantic woman, what dost thou make here? + Shall thy old dugs once more a traitor rear? + +DUCHESS OF YORK Sweet York, be patient. Hear me, gentle liege. + + [Kneels] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Rise up, good aunt. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Not yet, I thee beseech: + For ever will I walk upon my knees, + And never see day that the happy sees, + Till thou give joy; until thou bid me joy, + By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing boy. + +DUKE OF AUMERLE Unto my mother's prayers I bend my knee. + +DUKE OF YORK Against them both my true joints bended be. + Ill mayst thou thrive, if thou grant any grace! + +DUCHESS OF YORK Pleads he in earnest? look upon his face; + His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in jest; + His words come from his mouth, ours from our breast: + He prays but faintly and would be denied; + We pray with heart and soul and all beside: + His weary joints would gladly rise, I know; + Our knees shall kneel till to the ground they grow: + His prayers are full of false hypocrisy; + Ours of true zeal and deep integrity. + Our prayers do out-pray his; then let them have + That mercy which true prayer ought to have. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Nay, do not say, 'stand up;' + Say, 'pardon' first, and afterwards 'stand up.' + And if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach, + 'Pardon' should be the first word of thy speech. + I never long'd to hear a word till now; + Say 'pardon,' king; let pity teach thee how: + The word is short, but not so short as sweet; + No word like 'pardon' for kings' mouths so meet. + +DUKE OF YORK Speak it in French, king; say, 'pardonne moi.' + +DUCHESS OF YORK Dost thou teach pardon pardon to destroy? + Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, + That set'st the word itself against the word! + Speak 'pardon' as 'tis current in our land; + The chopping French we do not understand. + Thine eye begins to speak; set thy tongue there; + Or in thy piteous heart plant thou thine ear; + That hearing how our plaints and prayers do pierce, + Pity may move thee 'pardon' to rehearse. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Good aunt, stand up. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I do not sue to stand; + Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE I pardon him, as God shall pardon me. + +DUCHESS OF YORK O happy vantage of a kneeling knee! + Yet am I sick for fear: speak it again; + Twice saying 'pardon' doth not pardon twain, + But makes one pardon strong. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE With all my heart + I pardon him. + +DUCHESS OF YORK A god on earth thou art. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE But for our trusty brother-in-law and the abbot, + With all the rest of that consorted crew, + Destruction straight shall dog them at the heels. + Good uncle, help to order several powers + To Oxford, or where'er these traitors are: + They shall not live within this world, I swear, + But I will have them, if I once know where. + Uncle, farewell: and, cousin too, adieu: + Your mother well hath pray'd, and prove you true. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Come, my old son: I pray God make thee new. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV The same. + + + [Enter EXTON and Servant] + +EXTON Didst thou not mark the king, what words he spake, + 'Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear?' + Was it not so? + +Servant These were his very words. + +EXTON 'Have I no friend?' quoth he: he spake it twice, + And urged it twice together, did he not? + +Servant He did. + +EXTON And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, + And who should say, 'I would thou wert the man' + That would divorce this terror from my heart;' + Meaning the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go: + I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Pomfret castle. + + + [Enter KING RICHARD] + +KING RICHARD II I have been studying how I may compare + This prison where I live unto the world: + And for because the world is populous + And here is not a creature but myself, + I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out. + My brain I'll prove the female to my soul, + My soul the father; and these two beget + A generation of still-breeding thoughts, + And these same thoughts people this little world, + In humours like the people of this world, + For no thought is contented. The better sort, + As thoughts of things divine, are intermix'd + With scruples and do set the word itself + Against the word: + As thus, 'Come, little ones,' and then again, + 'It is as hard to come as for a camel + To thread the postern of a small needle's eye.' + Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot + Unlikely wonders; how these vain weak nails + May tear a passage through the flinty ribs + Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls, + And, for they cannot, die in their own pride. + Thoughts tending to content flatter themselves + That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, + Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars + Who sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, + That many have and others must sit there; + And in this thought they find a kind of ease, + Bearing their own misfortunes on the back + Of such as have before endured the like. + Thus play I in one person many people, + And none contented: sometimes am I king; + Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar, + And so I am: then crushing penury + Persuades me I was better when a king; + Then am I king'd again: and by and by + Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, + And straight am nothing: but whate'er I be, + Nor I nor any man that but man is + With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased + With being nothing. Music do I hear? + + [Music] + + Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is, + When time is broke and no proportion kept! + So is it in the music of men's lives. + And here have I the daintiness of ear + To cheque time broke in a disorder'd string; + But for the concord of my state and time + Had not an ear to hear my true time broke. + I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; + For now hath time made me his numbering clock: + My thoughts are minutes; and with sighs they jar + Their watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch, + Whereto my finger, like a dial's point, + Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears. + Now sir, the sound that tells what hour it is + Are clamorous groans, which strike upon my heart, + Which is the bell: so sighs and tears and groans + Show minutes, times, and hours: but my time + Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy, + While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock. + This music mads me; let it sound no more; + For though it have holp madmen to their wits, + In me it seems it will make wise men mad. + Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me! + For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard + Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world. + + [Enter a Groom of the Stable] + +Groom Hail, royal prince! + +KING RICHARD II Thanks, noble peer; + The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear. + What art thou? and how comest thou hither, + Where no man never comes but that sad dog + That brings me food to make misfortune live? + +Groom I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, + When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, + With much ado at length have gotten leave + To look upon my sometimes royal master's face. + O, how it yearn'd my heart when I beheld + In London streets, that coronation-day, + When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary, + That horse that thou so often hast bestrid, + That horse that I so carefully have dress'd! + +KING RICHARD II Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, + How went he under him? + +Groom So proudly as if he disdain'd the ground. + +KING RICHARD II So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! + That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; + This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. + Would he not stumble? would he not fall down, + Since pride must have a fall, and break the neck + Of that proud man that did usurp his back? + Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee, + Since thou, created to be awed by man, + Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse; + And yet I bear a burthen like an ass, + Spurr'd, gall'd and tired by jouncing Bolingbroke. + + [Enter Keeper, with a dish] + +Keeper Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. + +KING RICHARD II If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. + +Groom What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. + + [Exit] + +Keeper My lord, will't please you to fall to? + +KING RICHARD II Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. + +Keeper My lord, I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, who + lately came from the king, commands the contrary. + +KING RICHARD II The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! + Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. + + [Beats the keeper] + +Keeper Help, help, help! + + [Enter EXTON and Servants, armed] + +KING RICHARD II How now! what means death in this rude assault? + Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. + + [Snatching an axe from a Servant and killing him] + + Go thou, and fill another room in hell. + + [He kills another. Then Exton strikes him down] + + That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire + That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand + Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. + Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; + Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here to die. + + [Dies] + +EXTON As full of valour as of royal blood: + Both have I spill'd; O would the deed were good! + For now the devil, that told me I did well, + Says that this deed is chronicled in hell. + This dead king to the living king I'll bear + Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD II + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI Windsor castle. + + + [Flourish. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE, DUKE OF YORK, + with other Lords, and Attendants] + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear + Is that the rebels have consumed with fire + Our town of Cicester in Gloucestershire; + But whether they be ta'en or slain we hear not. + + [Enter NORTHUMBERLAND] + + Welcome, my lord what is the news? + +NORTHUMBERLAND First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. + The next news is, I have to London sent + The heads of Oxford, Salisbury, Blunt, and Kent: + The manner of their taking may appear + At large discoursed in this paper here. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; + And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. + + [Enter LORD FITZWATER] + +LORD FITZWATER My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London + The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely, + Two of the dangerous consorted traitors + That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; + Right noble is thy merit, well I wot. + + [Enter HENRY PERCY, and the BISHOP OF CARLISLE] + +HENRY PERCY The grand conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, + With clog of conscience and sour melancholy + Hath yielded up his body to the grave; + But here is Carlisle living, to abide + Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Carlisle, this is your doom: + Choose out some secret place, some reverend room, + More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; + So as thou livest in peace, die free from strife: + For though mine enemy thou hast ever been, + High sparks of honour in thee have I seen. + + [Enter EXTON, with persons bearing a coffin] + +EXTON Great king, within this coffin I present + Thy buried fear: herein all breathless lies + The mightiest of thy greatest enemies, + Richard of Bordeaux, by me hither brought. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought + A deed of slander with thy fatal hand + Upon my head and all this famous land. + +EXTON From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. + +HENRY BOLINGBROKE They love not poison that do poison need, + Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, + I hate the murderer, love him murdered. + The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, + But neither my good word nor princely favour: + With Cain go wander through shades of night, + And never show thy head by day nor light. + Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe, + That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow: + Come, mourn with me for that I do lament, + And put on sullen black incontinent: + I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, + To wash this blood off from my guilty hand: + March sadly after; grace my mournings here; + In weeping after this untimely bier. + + [Exeunt] + KING RICHARD III + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +KING EDWARD +The Fourth (KING EDWARD IV:) + + +EDWARD Prince of Wales, (PRINCE EDWARD:) | + afterwards King Edward V., | sons to + | the King. +RICHARD Duke of York, (YORK:) | + + +GEORGE Duke of Clarence, (CLARENCE:) | + | +RICHARD Duke of Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:) | Brothers to + afterwards King Richard III., | the King. + (KING RICHARD III:) | + + + A young son of Clarence. (Boy:) + +HENRY Earl of Richmond, (RICHMOND:) + afterwards King Henry VII. + +CARDINAL BOURCHIER Archbishop of Canterbury. (CARDINAL:) + +THOMAS ROTHERHAM Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:) + +JOHN MORTON Bishop of Ely. (BISHOP OF ELY:) + +DUKE of BUCKINGHAM (BUCKINGHAM:) + +DUKE of NORFOLK (NORFOLK:) + +EARL of SURREY His son. (SURREY:) + +EARL RIVERS Brother to Elizabeth. (RIVERS:) + + +MARQUIS OF DORSET (DORSET:) | + | Sons to Elizabeth. +LORD GREY (GREY:) | + + +EARL of OXFORD (OXFORD:) + +LORD HASTINGS (HASTINGS:) + +LORD STANLEY (STANLEY:) Called also EARL of DERBY. (DERBY:) + +LORD LOVEL (LOVEL:) + +SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN (VAUGHAN:) + +SIR RICHARD +RATCLIFF (RATCLIFF:) + +SIR WILLIAM +CATESBY (CATESBY:) + +SIR JAMES TYRREL (TYRREL:) + +SIR JAMES BLOUNT (BLOUNT:) + +SIR WALTER HERBERT (HERBERT:) + +SIR ROBERT +BRAKENBURY Lieutenant of the Tower. (BRAKENBURY:) + +CHRISTOPHER +URSWICK A priest. (CHRISTOPHER:) + + Another Priest. (Priest:) + + +TRESSEL | + | Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne. +BERKELEY | (Gentleman:) + + + Lord Mayor of London. (Lord Mayor:) + + Sheriff of Wiltshire. (Sheriff:) + +ELIZABETH Queen to King Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:) + +MARGARET Widow of King Henry VI. (QUEEN MARGARET:) + +DUCHESS of YORK Mother to King Edward IV. + +LADY ANNE Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.; + afterwards married to Richard. + + A young Daughter of Clarence [MARGARET PLANTAGENET] (Girl:) + + Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III., + Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant + Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers + Soldiers, &c. + (Ghost of Prince Edward:) + (Ghost of King Henry VI:) + (Ghost of CLARENCE:) + (Ghost of RIVERS:) + (Ghost of GREY:) + (Ghost of VAUGHAN:) + (Ghost of HASTING:) + (Ghosts of young Princes:) + (Ghost of LADY ANNE:) + (Ghost of BUCKINGHAM:) + (Pursuivant:) + (Scrivener:) + (First Citizen:) + (Second Citizen:) + (Third Citizen:) + (First Murderer:) + (Second Murderer:) + (Messenger:) + (Second Messenger:) + (Third Messenger:) + (Fourth Messenger:) + + +SCENE England. + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I London. A street. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, solus] + +GLOUCESTER Now is the winter of our discontent + Made glorious summer by this sun of York; + And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house + In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. + Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; + Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; + Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, + Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. + Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; + And now, instead of mounting barded steeds + To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, + He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber + To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. + But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, + Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; + I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty + To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; + I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, + Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, + Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time + Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, + And that so lamely and unfashionable + That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; + Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, + Have no delight to pass away the time, + Unless to spy my shadow in the sun + And descant on mine own deformity: + And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, + To entertain these fair well-spoken days, + I am determined to prove a villain + And hate the idle pleasures of these days. + Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, + By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, + To set my brother Clarence and the king + In deadly hate the one against the other: + And if King Edward be as true and just + As I am subtle, false and treacherous, + This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, + About a prophecy, which says that 'G' + Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. + Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here + Clarence comes. + + [Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY] + + Brother, good day; what means this armed guard + That waits upon your grace? + +CLARENCE His majesty + Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed + This conduct to convey me to the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER Upon what cause? + +CLARENCE Because my name is George. + +GLOUCESTER Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; + He should, for that, commit your godfathers: + O, belike his majesty hath some intent + That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. + But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? + +CLARENCE Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest + As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, + He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; + And from the cross-row plucks the letter G. + And says a wizard told him that by G + His issue disinherited should be; + And, for my name of George begins with G, + It follows in his thought that I am he. + These, as I learn, and such like toys as these + Have moved his highness to commit me now. + +GLOUCESTER Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women: + 'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower: + My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she + That tempers him to this extremity. + Was it not she and that good man of worship, + Anthony Woodville, her brother there, + That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, + From whence this present day he is deliver'd? + We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. + +CLARENCE By heaven, I think there's no man is secure + But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds + That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. + Heard ye not what an humble suppliant + Lord hastings was to her for his delivery? + +GLOUCESTER Humbly complaining to her deity + Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. + I'll tell you what; I think it is our way, + If we will keep in favour with the king, + To be her men and wear her livery: + The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, + Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. + Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. + +BRAKENBURY I beseech your graces both to pardon me; + His majesty hath straitly given in charge + That no man shall have private conference, + Of what degree soever, with his brother. + +GLOUCESTER Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, + You may partake of any thing we say: + We speak no treason, man: we say the king + Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen + Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; + We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, + A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; + And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks: + How say you sir? Can you deny all this? + +BRAKENBURY With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. + +GLOUCESTER Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, + He that doth naught with her, excepting one, + Were best he do it secretly, alone. + +BRAKENBURY What one, my lord? + +GLOUCESTER Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? + +BRAKENBURY I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal + Forbear your conference with the noble duke. + +CLARENCE We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. + +GLOUCESTER We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. + Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; + And whatsoever you will employ me in, + Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, + I will perform it to enfranchise you. + Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood + Touches me deeper than you can imagine. + +CLARENCE I know it pleaseth neither of us well. + +GLOUCESTER Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; + Meantime, have patience. + +CLARENCE I must perforce. Farewell. + + [Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard] + +GLOUCESTER Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. + Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, + That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, + If heaven will take the present at our hands. + But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? + + [Enter HASTINGS] + +HASTINGS Good time of day unto my gracious lord! + +GLOUCESTER As much unto my good lord chamberlain! + Well are you welcome to the open air. + How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? + +HASTINGS With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must: + But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks + That were the cause of my imprisonment. + +GLOUCESTER No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; + For they that were your enemies are his, + And have prevail'd as much on him as you. + +HASTINGS More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, + While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER What news abroad? + +HASTINGS No news so bad abroad as this at home; + The King is sickly, weak and melancholy, + And his physicians fear him mightily. + +GLOUCESTER Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. + O, he hath kept an evil diet long, + And overmuch consumed his royal person: + 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. + What, is he in his bed? + +HASTINGS He is. + +GLOUCESTER Go you before, and I will follow you. + + [Exit HASTINGS] + + He cannot live, I hope; and must not die + Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. + I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, + With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; + And, if I fall not in my deep intent, + Clarence hath not another day to live: + Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, + And leave the world for me to bustle in! + For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. + What though I kill'd her husband and her father? + The readiest way to make the wench amends + Is to become her husband and her father: + The which will I; not all so much for love + As for another secret close intent, + By marrying her which I must reach unto. + But yet I run before my horse to market: + Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: + When they are gone, then must I count my gains. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. Another street. + + [Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen + with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner] + +LADY ANNE Set down, set down your honourable load, + If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, + Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament + The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. + Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! + Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! + Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! + Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, + To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne, + Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, + Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds! + Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, + I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. + Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! + Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it! + Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! + More direful hap betide that hated wretch, + That makes us wretched by the death of thee, + Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, + Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! + If ever he have child, abortive be it, + Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, + Whose ugly and unnatural aspect + May fright the hopeful mother at the view; + And that be heir to his unhappiness! + If ever he have wife, let her he made + A miserable by the death of him + As I am made by my poor lord and thee! + Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, + Taken from Paul's to be interred there; + And still, as you are weary of the weight, + Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. + +LADY ANNE What black magician conjures up this fiend, + To stop devoted charitable deeds? + +GLOUCESTER Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, + I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. + +Gentleman My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. + +GLOUCESTER Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command: + Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, + Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, + And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. + +LADY ANNE What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? + Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, + And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. + Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! + Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, + His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone. + +GLOUCESTER Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. + +LADY ANNE Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; + For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, + Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. + If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, + Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. + O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds + Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! + Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity; + For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood + From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; + Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, + Provokes this deluge most unnatural. + O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! + O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death! + Either heaven with lightning strike the + murderer dead, + Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, + As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood + Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! + +GLOUCESTER Lady, you know no rules of charity, + Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. + +LADY ANNE Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man: + No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. + +GLOUCESTER But I know none, and therefore am no beast. + +LADY ANNE O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! + +GLOUCESTER More wonderful, when angels are so angry. + Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, + Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave, + By circumstance, but to acquit myself. + +LADY ANNE Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, + For these known evils, but to give me leave, + By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. + +GLOUCESTER Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have + Some patient leisure to excuse myself. + +LADY ANNE Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make + No excuse current, but to hang thyself. + +GLOUCESTER By such despair, I should accuse myself. + +LADY ANNE And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused; + For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, + Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. + +GLOUCESTER Say that I slew them not? + +LADY ANNE Why, then they are not dead: + But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee. + +GLOUCESTER I did not kill your husband. + +LADY ANNE Why, then he is alive. + +GLOUCESTER Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. + +LADY ANNE In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw + Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; + The which thou once didst bend against her breast, + But that thy brothers beat aside the point. + +GLOUCESTER I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, + which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. + +LADY ANNE Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind. + Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: + Didst thou not kill this king? + +GLOUCESTER I grant ye. + +LADY ANNE Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too + Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! + O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! + +GLOUCESTER The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. + +LADY ANNE He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. + +GLOUCESTER Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; + For he was fitter for that place than earth. + +LADY ANNE And thou unfit for any place but hell. + +GLOUCESTER Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. + +LADY ANNE Some dungeon. + +GLOUCESTER Your bed-chamber. + +LADY ANNE I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest! + +GLOUCESTER So will it, madam till I lie with you. + +LADY ANNE I hope so. + +GLOUCESTER I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, + To leave this keen encounter of our wits, + And fall somewhat into a slower method, + Is not the causer of the timeless deaths + Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, + As blameful as the executioner? + +LADY ANNE Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. + +GLOUCESTER Your beauty was the cause of that effect; + Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep + To undertake the death of all the world, + So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. + +LADY ANNE If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, + These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. + +GLOUCESTER These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck; + You should not blemish it, if I stood by: + As all the world is cheered by the sun, + So I by that; it is my day, my life. + +LADY ANNE Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! + +GLOUCESTER Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both. + +LADY ANNE I would I were, to be revenged on thee. + +GLOUCESTER It is a quarrel most unnatural, + To be revenged on him that loveth you. + +LADY ANNE It is a quarrel just and reasonable, + To be revenged on him that slew my husband. + +GLOUCESTER He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, + Did it to help thee to a better husband. + +LADY ANNE His better doth not breathe upon the earth. + +GLOUCESTER He lives that loves thee better than he could. + +LADY ANNE Name him. + +GLOUCESTER Plantagenet. + +LADY ANNE Why, that was he. + +GLOUCESTER The selfsame name, but one of better nature. + +LADY ANNE Where is he? + +GLOUCESTER Here. + + [She spitteth at him] + + Why dost thou spit at me? + +LADY ANNE Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! + +GLOUCESTER Never came poison from so sweet a place. + +LADY ANNE Never hung poison on a fouler toad. + Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. + +GLOUCESTER Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. + +LADY ANNE Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! + +GLOUCESTER I would they were, that I might die at once; + For now they kill me with a living death. + Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, + Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops: + These eyes that never shed remorseful tear, + No, when my father York and Edward wept, + To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made + When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him; + Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, + Told the sad story of my father's death, + And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, + That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks + Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time + My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; + And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, + Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. + I never sued to friend nor enemy; + My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; + But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, + My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. + + [She looks scornfully at him] + + Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made + For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. + If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, + Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; + Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom. + And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, + I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, + And humbly beg the death upon my knee. + + [He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword] + + Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, + But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. + Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, + But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. + + [Here she lets fall the sword] + + Take up the sword again, or take up me. + +LADY ANNE Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, + I will not be the executioner. + +GLOUCESTER Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. + +LADY ANNE I have already. + +GLOUCESTER Tush, that was in thy rage: + Speak it again, and, even with the word, + That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, + Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; + To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. + +LADY ANNE I would I knew thy heart. + +GLOUCESTER 'Tis figured in my tongue. + +LADY ANNE I fear me both are false. + +GLOUCESTER Then never man was true. + +LADY ANNE Well, well, put up your sword. + +GLOUCESTER Say, then, my peace is made. + +LADY ANNE That shall you know hereafter. + +GLOUCESTER But shall I live in hope? + +LADY ANNE All men, I hope, live so. + +GLOUCESTER Vouchsafe to wear this ring. + +LADY ANNE To take is not to give. + +GLOUCESTER Look, how this ring encompasseth finger. + Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; + Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. + And if thy poor devoted suppliant may + But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, + Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. + +LADY ANNE What is it? + +GLOUCESTER That it would please thee leave these sad designs + To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, + And presently repair to Crosby Place; + Where, after I have solemnly interr'd + At Chertsey monastery this noble king, + And wet his grave with my repentant tears, + I will with all expedient duty see you: + For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you, + Grant me this boon. + +LADY ANNE With all my heart; and much it joys me too, + To see you are become so penitent. + Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. + +GLOUCESTER Bid me farewell. + +LADY ANNE 'Tis more than you deserve; + But since you teach me how to flatter you, + Imagine I have said farewell already. + + [Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKELEY] + +GLOUCESTER Sirs, take up the corse. + +GENTLEMEN Towards Chertsey, noble lord? + +GLOUCESTER No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining. + + [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER] + + Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? + Was ever woman in this humour won? + I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. + What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, + To take her in her heart's extremest hate, + With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, + The bleeding witness of her hatred by; + Having God, her conscience, and these bars + against me, + And I nothing to back my suit at all, + But the plain devil and dissembling looks, + And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! + Ha! + Hath she forgot already that brave prince, + Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, + Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? + A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, + Framed in the prodigality of nature, + Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, + The spacious world cannot again afford + And will she yet debase her eyes on me, + That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, + And made her widow to a woful bed? + On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? + On me, that halt and am unshapen thus? + My dukedom to a beggarly denier, + I do mistake my person all this while: + Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, + Myself to be a marvellous proper man. + I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, + And entertain some score or two of tailors, + To study fashions to adorn my body: + Since I am crept in favour with myself, + Will maintain it with some little cost. + But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; + And then return lamenting to my love. + Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, + That I may see my shadow as I pass. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The palace. + + + [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY] + +RIVERS Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty + Will soon recover his accustom'd health. + +GREY In that you brook it in, it makes him worse: + Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, + And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH If he were dead, what would betide of me? + +RIVERS No other harm but loss of such a lord. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH The loss of such a lord includes all harm. + +GREY The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, + To be your comforter when he is gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Oh, he is young and his minority + Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, + A man that loves not me, nor none of you. + +RIVERS Is it concluded that he shall be protector? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH It is determined, not concluded yet: + But so it must be, if the king miscarry. + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY] + +GREY Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby. + +BUCKINGHAM Good time of day unto your royal grace! + +DERBY God make your majesty joyful as you have been! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby. + To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. + Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife, + And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured + I hate not you for her proud arrogance. + +DERBY I do beseech you, either not believe + The envious slanders of her false accusers; + Or, if she be accused in true report, + Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds + From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. + +RIVERS Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby? + +DERBY But now the Duke of Buckingham and I + Are come from visiting his majesty. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH What likelihood of his amendment, lords? + +BUCKINGHAM Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH God grant him health! Did you confer with him? + +BUCKINGHAM Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement + Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, + And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain; + And sent to warn them to his royal presence. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Would all were well! but that will never be + I fear our happiness is at the highest. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET] + +GLOUCESTER They do me wrong, and I will not endure it: + Who are they that complain unto the king, + That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? + By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly + That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. + Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, + Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog, + Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, + I must be held a rancorous enemy. + Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, + But thus his simple truth must be abused + By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? + +RIVERS To whom in all this presence speaks your grace? + +GLOUCESTER To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. + When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? + Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? + A plague upon you all! His royal person,-- + Whom God preserve better than you would wish!-- + Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, + But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. + The king, of his own royal disposition, + And not provoked by any suitor else; + Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, + Which in your outward actions shows itself + Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, + Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather + The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. + +GLOUCESTER I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad, + That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: + Since every Jack became a gentleman + There's many a gentle person made a Jack. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Come, come, we know your meaning, brother + Gloucester; + You envy my advancement and my friends': + God grant we never may have need of you! + +GLOUCESTER Meantime, God grants that we have need of you: + Your brother is imprison'd by your means, + Myself disgraced, and the nobility + Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions + Are daily given to ennoble those + That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH By Him that raised me to this careful height + From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, + I never did incense his majesty + Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been + An earnest advocate to plead for him. + My lord, you do me shameful injury, + Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. + +GLOUCESTER You may deny that you were not the cause + Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. + +RIVERS She may, my lord, for-- + +GLOUCESTER She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so? + She may do more, sir, than denying that: + She may help you to many fair preferments, + And then deny her aiding hand therein, + And lay those honours on your high deserts. + What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she-- + +RIVERS What, marry, may she? + +GLOUCESTER What, marry, may she! marry with a king, + A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: + I wis your grandam had a worser match. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne + Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs: + By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty + With those gross taunts I often have endured. + I had rather be a country servant-maid + Than a great queen, with this condition, + To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at: + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind] + + Small joy have I in being England's queen. + +QUEEN MARGARET And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! + Thy honour, state and seat is due to me. + +GLOUCESTER What! threat you me with telling of the king? + Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said + I will avouch in presence of the king: + I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. + 'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot. + +QUEEN MARGARET Out, devil! I remember them too well: + Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower, + And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. + +GLOUCESTER Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king, + I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; + A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, + A liberal rewarder of his friends: + To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. + +QUEEN MARGARET Yea, and much better blood than his or thine. + +GLOUCESTER In all which time you and your husband Grey + Were factious for the house of Lancaster; + And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband + In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? + Let me put in your minds, if you forget, + What you have been ere now, and what you are; + Withal, what I have been, and what I am. + +QUEEN MARGARET A murderous villain, and so still thou art. + +GLOUCESTER Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick; + Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!-- + +QUEEN MARGARET Which God revenge! + +GLOUCESTER To fight on Edward's party for the crown; + And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up. + I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's; + Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine + I am too childish-foolish for this world. + +QUEEN MARGARET Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, + Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is. + +RIVERS My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days + Which here you urge to prove us enemies, + We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king: + So should we you, if you should be our king. + +GLOUCESTER If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar: + Far be it from my heart, the thought of it! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH As little joy, my lord, as you suppose + You should enjoy, were you this country's king, + As little joy may you suppose in me. + That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. + +QUEEN MARGARET A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; + For I am she, and altogether joyless. + I can no longer hold me patient. + + [Advancing] + + Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out + In sharing that which you have pill'd from me! + Which of you trembles not that looks on me? + If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects, + Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels? + O gentle villain, do not turn away! + +GLOUCESTER Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight? + +QUEEN MARGARET But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; + That will I make before I let thee go. + +GLOUCESTER Wert thou not banished on pain of death? + +QUEEN MARGARET I was; but I do find more pain in banishment + Than death can yield me here by my abode. + A husband and a son thou owest to me; + And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: + The sorrow that I have, by right is yours, + And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. + +GLOUCESTER The curse my noble father laid on thee, + When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper + And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, + And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout + Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland-- + His curses, then from bitterness of soul + Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; + And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH So just is God, to right the innocent. + +HASTINGS O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, + And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! + +RIVERS Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. + +DORSET No man but prophesied revenge for it. + +BUCKINGHAM Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. + +QUEEN MARGARET What were you snarling all before I came, + Ready to catch each other by the throat, + And turn you all your hatred now on me? + Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven? + That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, + Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, + Could all but answer for that peevish brat? + Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? + Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! + If not by war, by surfeit die your king, + As ours by murder, to make him a king! + Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales, + For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales, + Die in his youth by like untimely violence! + Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, + Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! + Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss; + And see another, as I see thee now, + Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! + Long die thy happy days before thy death; + And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, + Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! + Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, + And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son + Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him, + That none of you may live your natural age, + But by some unlook'd accident cut off! + +GLOUCESTER Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! + +QUEEN MARGARET And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. + If heaven have any grievous plague in store + Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, + O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, + And then hurl down their indignation + On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! + The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul! + Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, + And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! + No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, + Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream + Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! + Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! + Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity + The slave of nature and the son of hell! + Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! + Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! + Thou rag of honour! thou detested-- + +GLOUCESTER Margaret. + +QUEEN MARGARET Richard! + +GLOUCESTER Ha! + +QUEEN MARGARET I call thee not. + +GLOUCESTER I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought + That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. + +QUEEN MARGARET Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. + O, let me make the period to my curse! + +GLOUCESTER 'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.' + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. + +QUEEN MARGARET Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! + Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, + Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? + Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. + The time will come when thou shalt wish for me + To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. + +HASTINGS False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, + Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. + +QUEEN MARGARET Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine. + +RIVERS Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. + +QUEEN MARGARET To serve me well, you all should do me duty, + Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: + O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! + +DORSET Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. + +QUEEN MARGARET Peace, master marquess, you are malapert: + Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. + O, that your young nobility could judge + What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! + They that stand high have many blasts to shake them; + And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. + +GLOUCESTER Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess. + +DORSET It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me. + +GLOUCESTER Yea, and much more: but I was born so high, + Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, + And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. + +QUEEN MARGARET And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas! + Witness my son, now in the shade of death; + Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath + Hath in eternal darkness folded up. + Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest. + O God, that seest it, do not suffer it! + As it was won with blood, lost be it so! + +BUCKINGHAM Have done! for shame, if not for charity. + +QUEEN MARGARET Urge neither charity nor shame to me: + Uncharitably with me have you dealt, + And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. + My charity is outrage, life my shame + And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage. + +BUCKINGHAM Have done, have done. + +QUEEN MARGARET O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand, + In sign of league and amity with thee: + Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! + Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, + Nor thou within the compass of my curse. + +BUCKINGHAM Nor no one here; for curses never pass + The lips of those that breathe them in the air. + +QUEEN MARGARET I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, + And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. + O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! + Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, + His venom tooth will rankle to the death: + Have not to do with him, beware of him; + Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, + And all their ministers attend on him. + +GLOUCESTER What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. + +QUEEN MARGARET What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? + And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? + O, but remember this another day, + When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, + And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! + Live each of you the subjects to his hate, + And he to yours, and all of you to God's! + + [Exit] + +HASTINGS My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. + +RIVERS And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty. + +GLOUCESTER I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother, + She hath had too much wrong; and I repent + My part thereof that I have done to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH I never did her any, to my knowledge. + +GLOUCESTER But you have all the vantage of her wrong. + I was too hot to do somebody good, + That is too cold in thinking of it now. + Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid, + He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains + God pardon them that are the cause of it! + +RIVERS A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, + To pray for them that have done scathe to us. + +GLOUCESTER So do I ever: + + [Aside] + + being well-advised. + For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. + + [Enter CATESBY] + +CATESBY Madam, his majesty doth call for you, + And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us? + +RIVERS Madam, we will attend your grace. + + [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. + The secret mischiefs that I set abroach + I lay unto the grievous charge of others. + Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness, + I do beweep to many simple gulls + Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; + And say it is the queen and her allies + That stir the king against the duke my brother. + Now, they believe it; and withal whet me + To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: + But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture, + Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: + And thus I clothe my naked villany + With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ; + And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. + + [Enter two Murderers] + + But, soft! here come my executioners. + How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates! + Are you now going to dispatch this deed? + +First Murderer We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant + That we may be admitted where he is. + +GLOUCESTER Well thought upon; I have it here about me. + + [Gives the warrant] + + When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. + But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, + Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; + For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps + May move your hearts to pity if you mark him. + +First Murderer Tush! + Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; + Talkers are no good doers: be assured + We come to use our hands and not our tongues. + +GLOUCESTER Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears: + I like you, lads; about your business straight; + Go, go, dispatch. + +First Murderer We will, my noble lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV London. The Tower. + + + [Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY] + +BRAKENBURY Why looks your grace so heavily today? + +CLARENCE O, I have pass'd a miserable night, + So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, + That, as I am a Christian faithful man, + I would not spend another such a night, + Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, + So full of dismal terror was the time! + +BRAKENBURY What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, + And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; + And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; + Who from my cabin tempted me to walk + Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England, + And cited up a thousand fearful times, + During the wars of York and Lancaster + That had befall'n us. As we paced along + Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, + Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, + Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, + Into the tumbling billows of the main. + Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! + What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! + What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! + Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; + Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; + Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, + Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, + All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea: + Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes + Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, + As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, + Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, + And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. + +BRAKENBURY Had you such leisure in the time of death + To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? + +CLARENCE Methought I had; and often did I strive + To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood + Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth + To seek the empty, vast and wandering air; + But smother'd it within my panting bulk, + Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. + +BRAKENBURY Awaked you not with this sore agony? + +CLARENCE O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; + O, then began the tempest to my soul, + Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, + With that grim ferryman which poets write of, + Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. + The first that there did greet my stranger soul, + Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; + Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury + Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' + And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by + A shadow like an angel, with bright hair + Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud, + 'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, + That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury; + Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!' + With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends + Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears + Such hideous cries, that with the very noise + I trembling waked, and for a season after + Could not believe but that I was in hell, + Such terrible impression made the dream. + +BRAKENBURY No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you; + I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it. + +CLARENCE O Brakenbury, I have done those things, + Which now bear evidence against my soul, + For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! + O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, + But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, + Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, + O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! + I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; + My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. + +BRAKENBURY I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest! + + [CLARENCE sleeps] + + Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, + Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. + Princes have but their tides for their glories, + An outward honour for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imagination, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, betwixt their tides and low names, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + [Enter the two Murderers] + +First Murderer Ho! who's here? + +BRAKENBURY In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? + +First Murderer I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. + +BRAKENBURY Yea, are you so brief? + +Second Murderer O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show + him our commission; talk no more. + + [BRAKENBURY reads it] + +BRAKENBURY I am, in this, commanded to deliver + The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: + I will not reason what is meant hereby, + Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. + Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: + I'll to the king; and signify to him + That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. + +First Murderer Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well. + + [Exit BRAKENBURY] + +Second Murderer What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? + +First Murderer No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. + +Second Murderer When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till + the judgment-day. + +First Murderer Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping. + +Second Murderer The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind + of remorse in me. + +First Murderer What, art thou afraid? + +Second Murderer Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be + damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us. + +First Murderer I thought thou hadst been resolute. + +Second Murderer So I am, to let him live. + +First Murderer Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so. + +Second Murderer I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour + will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one + would tell twenty. + +First Murderer How dost thou feel thyself now? + +Second Murderer 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet + within me. + +First Murderer Remember our reward, when the deed is done. + +Second Murderer 'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward. + +First Murderer Where is thy conscience now? + +Second Murderer In the Duke of Gloucester's purse. + +First Murderer So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, + thy conscience flies out. + +Second Murderer Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. + +First Murderer How if it come to thee again? + +Second Murderer I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it + makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it + accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him; + he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it + detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that + mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of + obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold + that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it + is turned out of all towns and cities for a + dangerous thing; and every man that means to live + well endeavours to trust to himself and to live + without it. + +First Murderer 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me + not to kill the duke. + +Second Murderer Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he + would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. + +First Murderer Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me, + I warrant thee. + +Second Murderer Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his + reputation. Come, shall we to this gear? + +First Murderer Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy + sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt + in the next room. + +Second Murderer O excellent devise! make a sop of him. + +First Murderer Hark! he stirs: shall I strike? + +Second Murderer No, first let's reason with him. + +CLARENCE Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. + +Second murderer You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. + +CLARENCE In God's name, what art thou? + +Second Murderer A man, as you are. + +CLARENCE But not, as I am, royal. + +Second Murderer Nor you, as we are, loyal. + +CLARENCE Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. + +Second Murderer My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own. + +CLARENCE How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! + Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? + Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? + +Both To, to, to-- + +CLARENCE To murder me? + +Both Ay, ay. + +CLARENCE You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, + And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. + Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? + +First Murderer Offended us you have not, but the king. + +CLARENCE I shall be reconciled to him again. + +Second Murderer Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. + +CLARENCE Are you call'd forth from out a world of men + To slay the innocent? What is my offence? + Where are the evidence that do accuse me? + What lawful quest have given their verdict up + Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced + The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? + Before I be convict by course of law, + To threaten me with death is most unlawful. + I charge you, as you hope to have redemption + By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, + That you depart and lay no hands on me + The deed you undertake is damnable. + +First Murderer What we will do, we do upon command. + +Second Murderer And he that hath commanded is the king. + +CLARENCE Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings + Hath in the tables of his law commanded + That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then, + Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands, + To hurl upon their heads that break his law. + +Second Murderer And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, + For false forswearing and for murder too: + Thou didst receive the holy sacrament, + To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster. + +First Murderer And, like a traitor to the name of God, + Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade + Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. + +Second Murderer Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend. + +First Murderer How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, + When thou hast broke it in so dear degree? + +CLARENCE Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? + For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs, + He sends ye not to murder me for this + For in this sin he is as deep as I. + If God will be revenged for this deed. + O, know you yet, he doth it publicly, + Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; + He needs no indirect nor lawless course + To cut off those that have offended him. + +First Murderer Who made thee, then, a bloody minister, + When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, + That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? + +CLARENCE My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. + +First Murderer Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, + Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me; + I am his brother, and I love him well. + If you be hired for meed, go back again, + And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, + Who shall reward you better for my life + Than Edward will for tidings of my death. + +Second Murderer You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you. + +CLARENCE O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: + Go you to him from me. + +Both Ay, so we will. + +CLARENCE Tell him, when that our princely father York + Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, + And charged us from his soul to love each other, + He little thought of this divided friendship: + Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. + +First Murderer Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep. + +CLARENCE O, do not slander him, for he is kind. + +First Murderer Right, + As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: + 'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee. + +CLARENCE It cannot be; for when I parted with him, + He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, + That he would labour my delivery. + +Second Murderer Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee + From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven. + +First Murderer Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. + +CLARENCE Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, + To counsel me to make my peace with God, + And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, + That thou wilt war with God by murdering me? + Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on + To do this deed will hate you for the deed. + +Second Murderer What shall we do? + +CLARENCE Relent, and save your souls. + +First Murderer Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish. + +CLARENCE Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. + Which of you, if you were a prince's son, + Being pent from liberty, as I am now, + if two such murderers as yourselves came to you, + Would not entreat for life? + My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks: + O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, + Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, + As you would beg, were you in my distress + A begging prince what beggar pities not? + +Second Murderer Look behind you, my lord. + +First Murderer Take that, and that: if all this will not do, + + [Stabs him] + + I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. + + [Exit, with the body] + +Second Murderer A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd! + How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands + Of this most grievous guilty murder done! + + [Re-enter First Murderer] + +First Murderer How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? + By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art! + +Second Murderer I would he knew that I had saved his brother! + Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; + For I repent me that the duke is slain. + + [Exit] + +First Murderer So do not I: go, coward as thou art. + Now must I hide his body in some hole, + Until the duke take order for his burial: + And when I have my meed, I must away; + For this will out, and here I must not stay. + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I London. The palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV sick, QUEEN + ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, + GREY, and others] + +KING EDWARD IV Why, so: now have I done a good day's work: + You peers, continue this united league: + I every day expect an embassage + From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; + And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven, + Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. + Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; + Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. + +RIVERS By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate: + And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. + +HASTINGS So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! + +KING EDWARD IV Take heed you dally not before your king; + Lest he that is the supreme King of kings + Confound your hidden falsehood, and award + Either of you to be the other's end. + +HASTINGS So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! + +RIVERS And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! + +KING EDWARD IV Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, + Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; + You have been factious one against the other, + Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; + And what you do, do it unfeignedly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Here, Hastings; I will never more remember + Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! + +KING EDWARD IV Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. + +DORSET This interchange of love, I here protest, + Upon my part shall be unviolable. + +HASTINGS And so swear I, my lord + + [They embrace] + +KING EDWARD IV Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league + With thy embracements to my wife's allies, + And make me happy in your unity. + +BUCKINGHAM Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate + On you or yours, + + [To the Queen] + + but with all duteous love + Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me + With hate in those where I expect most love! + When I have most need to employ a friend, + And most assured that he is a friend + Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, + Be he unto me! this do I beg of God, + When I am cold in zeal to yours. + +KING EDWARD IV A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, + is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. + There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here, + To make the perfect period of this peace. + +BUCKINGHAM And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen: + And, princely peers, a happy time of day! + +KING EDWARD IV Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. + Brother, we done deeds of charity; + Made peace enmity, fair love of hate, + Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. + +GLOUCESTER A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege: + Amongst this princely heap, if any here, + By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, + Hold me a foe; + If I unwittingly, or in my rage, + Have aught committed that is hardly borne + By any in this presence, I desire + To reconcile me to his friendly peace: + 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; + I hate it, and desire all good men's love. + First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, + Which I will purchase with my duteous service; + Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, + If ever any grudge were lodged between us; + Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you; + That without desert have frown'd on me; + Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. + I do not know that Englishman alive + With whom my soul is any jot at odds + More than the infant that is born to-night + I thank my God for my humility. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH A holy day shall this be kept hereafter: + I would to God all strifes were well compounded. + My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty + To take our brother Clarence to your grace. + +GLOUCESTER Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this + To be so bouted in this royal presence? + Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? + + [They all start] + + You do him injury to scorn his corse. + +RIVERS Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH All seeing heaven, what a world is this! + +BUCKINGHAM Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? + +DORSET Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence + But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. + +KING EDWARD IV Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed. + +GLOUCESTER But he, poor soul, by your first order died, + And that a winged Mercury did bear: + Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, + That came too lag to see him buried. + God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, + Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, + Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, + And yet go current from suspicion! + + [Enter DERBY] + +DORSET A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! + +KING EDWARD IV I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. + +DORSET I will not rise, unless your highness grant. + +KING EDWARD IV Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. + +DORSET The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; + Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman + Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. + +KING EDWARD IV Have a tongue to doom my brother's death, + And shall the same give pardon to a slave? + My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, + And yet his punishment was cruel death. + Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, + Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised + Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love? + Who told me how the poor soul did forsake + The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? + Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury + When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, + And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'? + Who told me, when we both lay in the field + Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me + Even in his own garments, and gave himself, + All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? + All this from my remembrance brutish wrath + Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you + Had so much grace to put it in my mind. + But when your carters or your waiting-vassals + Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced + The precious image of our dear Redeemer, + You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; + And I unjustly too, must grant it you + But for my brother not a man would speak, + Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself + For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all + Have been beholding to him in his life; + Yet none of you would once plead for his life. + O God, I fear thy justice will take hold + On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! + Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. + Oh, poor Clarence! + + [Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET] + +GLOUCESTER This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not + How that the guilty kindred of the queen + Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? + O, they did urge it still unto the king! + God will revenge it. But come, let us in, + To comfort Edward with our company. + +BUCKINGHAM We wait upon your grace. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The palace. + + + [Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with the two children of CLARENCE] + +Boy Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead? + +DUCHESS OF YORK No, boy. + +Boy Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, + And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!' + +Girl Why do you look on us, and shake your head, + And call us wretches, orphans, castaways + If that our noble father be alive? + +DUCHESS OF YORK My pretty cousins, you mistake me much; + I do lament the sickness of the king. + As loath to lose him, not your father's death; + It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. + +Boy Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. + The king my uncle is to blame for this: + God will revenge it; whom I will importune + With daily prayers all to that effect. + +Girl And so will I. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: + Incapable and shallow innocents, + You cannot guess who caused your father's death. + +Boy Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester + Told me, the king, provoked by the queen, + Devised impeachments to imprison him : + And when my uncle told me so, he wept, + And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; + Bade me rely on him as on my father, + And he would love me dearly as his child. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, + And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! + He is my son; yea, and therein my shame; + Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. + +Boy Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? + +DUCHESS OF YORK Ay, boy. + +Boy I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? + + [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her + ears; RIVERS, and DORSET after her] + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, + To chide my fortune, and torment myself? + I'll join with black despair against my soul, + And to myself become an enemy. + +DUCHESS OF YORK What means this scene of rude impatience? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act of tragic violence: + Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. + Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? + Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone? + If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, + That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; + Or, like obedient subjects, follow him + To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow + As I had title in thy noble husband! + I have bewept a worthy husband's death, + And lived by looking on his images: + But now two mirrors of his princely semblance + Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death, + And I for comfort have but one false glass, + Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. + Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, + And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: + But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, + And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs, + Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I, + Thine being but a moiety of my grief, + To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! + +Boy Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death; + How can we aid you with our kindred tears? + +Girl Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; + Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Give me no help in lamentation; + I am not barren to bring forth complaints + All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, + That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, + May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! + Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! + +Children Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! + +DUCHESS OF YORK Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. + +Children What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. + +DUCHESS OF YORK What stays had I but they? and they are gone. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Was never widow had so dear a loss! + +Children Were never orphans had so dear a loss! + +DUCHESS OF YORK Was never mother had so dear a loss! + Alas, I am the mother of these moans! + Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. + She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; + I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: + These babes for Clarence weep and so do I; + I for an Edward weep, so do not they: + Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd, + Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, + And I will pamper it with lamentations. + +DORSET Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased + That you take with unthankfulness, his doing: + In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, + With dull unwilligness to repay a debt + Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; + Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, + For it requires the royal debt it lent you. + +RIVERS Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, + Of the young prince your son: send straight for him + Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: + Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, + And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF] + +GLOUCESTER Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause + To wail the dimming of our shining star; + But none can cure their harms by wailing them. + Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; + I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee + I crave your blessing. + +DUCHESS OF YORK God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind, + Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] Amen; and make me die a good old man! + That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing: + I marvel why her grace did leave it out. + +BUCKINGHAM You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, + That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, + Now cheer each other in each other's love + Though we have spent our harvest of this king, + We are to reap the harvest of his son. + The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, + But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, + Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: + Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, + Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd + Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. + +RIVERS Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? + +BUCKINGHAM Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, + The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out, + Which would be so much the more dangerous + By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd: + Where every horse bears his commanding rein, + And may direct his course as please himself, + As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, + In my opinion, ought to be prevented. + +GLOUCESTER I hope the king made peace with all of us + And the compact is firm and true in me. + +RIVERS And so in me; and so, I think, in all: + Yet, since it is but green, it should be put + To no apparent likelihood of breach, + Which haply by much company might be urged: + Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, + That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. + +HASTINGS And so say I. + +GLOUCESTER Then be it so; and go we to determine + Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. + Madam, and you, my mother, will you go + To give your censures in this weighty business? + + +QUEEN ELIZABETH | + | With all our harts. +DUCHESS OF YORK | + + + [Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER] + +BUCKINGHAM My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, + For God's sake, let not us two be behind; + For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, + As index to the story we late talk'd of, + To part the queen's proud kindred from the king. + +GLOUCESTER My other self, my counsel's consistory, + My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin, + I, like a child, will go by thy direction. + Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III London. A street. + + + [Enter two Citizens meeting] + +First Citizen Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast? + +Second Citizen I promise you, I scarcely know myself: + Hear you the news abroad? + +First Citizen Ay, that the king is dead. + +Second Citizen Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: + I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world. + + [Enter another Citizen] + +Third Citizen Neighbours, God speed! + +First Citizen Give you good morrow, sir. + +Third Citizen Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death? + +Second Citizen Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! + +Third Citizen Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. + +First Citizen No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign. + +Third Citizen Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child! + +Second Citizen In him there is a hope of government, + That in his nonage council under him, + And in his full and ripen'd years himself, + No doubt, shall then and till then govern well. + +First Citizen So stood the state when Henry the Sixth + Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. + +Third Citizen Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot; + For then this land was famously enrich'd + With politic grave counsel; then the king + Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. + +First Citizen Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother. + +Third Citizen Better it were they all came by the father, + Or by the father there were none at all; + For emulation now, who shall be nearest, + Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. + O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! + And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud: + And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, + This sickly land might solace as before. + +First Citizen Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well. + +Third Citizen When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; + When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; + When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? + Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. + All may be well; but, if God sort it so, + 'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. + +Second Citizen Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: + Ye cannot reason almost with a man + That looks not heavily and full of fear. + +Third Citizen Before the times of change, still is it so: + By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust + Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see + The waters swell before a boisterous storm. + But leave it all to God. whither away? + +Second Citizen Marry, we were sent for to the justices. + +Third Citizen And so was I: I'll bear you company. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV London. The palace. + + + [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, young YORK, QUEEN + ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; + At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: + To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I long with all my heart to see the prince: + I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH But I hear, no; they say my son of York + Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. + +YORK Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. + +YORK Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, + My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow + More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle + Gloucester, + 'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' + And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, + Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold + In him that did object the same to thee; + He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, + So long a-growing and so leisurely, + That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. + +YORK Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, + I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, + To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. + +DUCHESS OF YORK How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it. + +YORK Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast + That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old + 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. + Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? + +YORK Grandam, his nurse. + +DUCHESS OF YORK His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born. + +YORK If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Good madam, be not angry with the child. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Pitchers have ears. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Here comes a messenger. What news? + +Messenger Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH How fares the prince? + +Messenger Well, madam, and in health. + +DUCHESS OF YORK What is thy news then? + +Messenger Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, + With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Who hath committed them? + +Messenger The mighty dukes + Gloucester and Buckingham. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH For what offence? + +Messenger The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; + Why or for what these nobles were committed + Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! + The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; + Insulting tyranny begins to jet + Upon the innocent and aweless throne: + Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! + I see, as in a map, the end of all. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, + How many of you have mine eyes beheld! + My husband lost his life to get the crown; + And often up and down my sons were toss'd, + For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: + And being seated, and domestic broils + Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. + Make war upon themselves; blood against blood, + Self against self: O, preposterous + And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; + Or let me die, to look on death no more! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary. + Madam, farewell. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I'll go along with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH You have no cause. + +ARCHBISHOP OF YORK My gracious lady, go; + And thither bear your treasure and your goods. + For my part, I'll resign unto your grace + The seal I keep: and so betide to me + As well I tender you and all of yours! + Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I London. A street. + + + [The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD, + GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, and others] + +BUCKINGHAM Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. + +GLOUCESTER Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign + The weary way hath made you melancholy. + +PRINCE EDWARD No, uncle; but our crosses on the way + Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy + I want more uncles here to welcome me. + +GLOUCESTER Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years + Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit + Nor more can you distinguish of a man + Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, + Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. + Those uncles which you want were dangerous; + Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, + But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : + God keep you from them, and from such false friends! + +PRINCE EDWARD God keep me from false friends! but they were none. + +GLOUCESTER My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. + + [Enter the Lord Mayor and his train] + +Lord Mayor God bless your grace with health and happy days! + +PRINCE EDWARD I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all. + I thought my mother, and my brother York, + Would long ere this have met us on the way + Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not + To tell us whether they will come or no! + + [Enter HASTINGS] + +BUCKINGHAM And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? + +HASTINGS On what occasion, God he knows, not I, + The queen your mother, and your brother York, + Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince + Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, + But by his mother was perforce withheld. + +BUCKINGHAM Fie, what an indirect and peevish course + Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace + Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York + Unto his princely brother presently? + If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, + And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. + +CARDINAL My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory + Can from his mother win the Duke of York, + Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate + To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid + We should infringe the holy privilege + Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land + Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. + +BUCKINGHAM You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord, + Too ceremonious and traditional + Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, + You break not sanctuary in seizing him. + The benefit thereof is always granted + To those whose dealings have deserved the place, + And those who have the wit to claim the place: + This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it; + And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: + Then, taking him from thence that is not there, + You break no privilege nor charter there. + Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; + But sanctuary children ne'er till now. + +CARDINAL My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. + Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? + +HASTINGS I go, my lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. + + [Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS] + + Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, + Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? + +GLOUCESTER Where it seems best unto your royal self. + If I may counsel you, some day or two + Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: + Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit + For your best health and recreation. + +PRINCE EDWARD I do not like the Tower, of any place. + Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? + +BUCKINGHAM He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; + Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. + +PRINCE EDWARD Is it upon record, or else reported + Successively from age to age, he built it? + +BUCKINGHAM Upon record, my gracious lord. + +PRINCE EDWARD But say, my lord, it were not register'd, + Methinks the truth should live from age to age, + As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, + Even to the general all-ending day. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] So wise so young, they say, do never + live long. + +PRINCE EDWARD What say you, uncle? + +GLOUCESTER I say, without characters, fame lives long. + + [Aside] + + Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, + I moralize two meanings in one word. + +PRINCE EDWARD That Julius Caesar was a famous man; + With what his valour did enrich his wit, + His wit set down to make his valour live + Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; + For now he lives in fame, though not in life. + I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,-- + +BUCKINGHAM What, my gracious lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD An if I live until I be a man, + I'll win our ancient right in France again, + Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. + +GLOUCESTER [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. + + [Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL] + +BUCKINGHAM Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York. + +PRINCE EDWARD Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? + +YORK Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. + +PRINCE EDWARD Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours: + Too late he died that might have kept that title, + Which by his death hath lost much majesty. + +GLOUCESTER How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? + +YORK I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, + You said that idle weeds are fast in growth + The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. + +GLOUCESTER He hath, my lord. + +YORK And therefore is he idle? + +GLOUCESTER O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. + +YORK Then is he more beholding to you than I. + +GLOUCESTER He may command me as my sovereign; + But you have power in me as in a kinsman. + +YORK I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. + +GLOUCESTER My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. + +PRINCE EDWARD A beggar, brother? + +YORK Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; + And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. + +GLOUCESTER A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. + +YORK A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it. + +GLOUCESTER A gentle cousin, were it light enough. + +YORK O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts; + In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. + +GLOUCESTER It is too heavy for your grace to wear. + +YORK I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. + +GLOUCESTER What, would you have my weapon, little lord? + +YORK I would, that I might thank you as you call me. + +GLOUCESTER How? + +YORK Little. + +PRINCE EDWARD My Lord of York will still be cross in talk: + Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. + +YORK You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me: + Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; + Because that I am little, like an ape, + He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. + +BUCKINGHAM With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! + To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, + He prettily and aptly taunts himself: + So cunning and so young is wonderful. + +GLOUCESTER My lord, will't please you pass along? + Myself and my good cousin Buckingham + Will to your mother, to entreat of her + To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. + +YORK What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? + +PRINCE EDWARD My lord protector needs will have it so. + +YORK I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. + +GLOUCESTER Why, what should you fear? + +YORK Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost: + My grandam told me he was murdered there. + +PRINCE EDWARD I fear no uncles dead. + +GLOUCESTER Nor none that live, I hope. + +PRINCE EDWARD An if they live, I hope I need not fear. + But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, + Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. + + [A Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM + and CATESBY] + +BUCKINGHAM Think you, my lord, this little prating York + Was not incensed by his subtle mother + To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? + +GLOUCESTER No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy; + Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable + He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. + +BUCKINGHAM Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. + Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend + As closely to conceal what we impart: + Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way; + What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter + To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, + For the instalment of this noble duke + In the seat royal of this famous isle? + +CATESBY He for his father's sake so loves the prince, + That he will not be won to aught against him. + +BUCKINGHAM What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he? + +CATESBY He will do all in all as Hastings doth. + +BUCKINGHAM Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, + And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings, + How doth he stand affected to our purpose; + And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, + To sit about the coronation. + If thou dost find him tractable to us, + Encourage him, and show him all our reasons: + If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, + Be thou so too; and so break off your talk, + And give us notice of his inclination: + For we to-morrow hold divided councils, + Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. + +GLOUCESTER Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby, + His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries + To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; + And bid my friend, for joy of this good news, + Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. + +BUCKINGHAM Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. + +CATESBY My good lords both, with all the heed I may. + +GLOUCESTER Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? + +CATESBY You shall, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both. + + [Exit CATESBY] + +BUCKINGHAM Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive + Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? + +GLOUCESTER Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do: + And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me + The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables + Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd. + +BUCKINGHAM I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands. + +GLOUCESTER And look to have it yielded with all willingness. + Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards + We may digest our complots in some form. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Before Lord Hastings' house. + + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger What, ho! my lord! + +HASTINGS [Within] Who knocks at the door? + +Messenger A messenger from the Lord Stanley. + + [Enter HASTINGS] + +HASTINGS What is't o'clock? + +Messenger Upon the stroke of four. + +HASTINGS Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights? + +Messenger So it should seem by that I have to say. + First, he commends him to your noble lordship. + +HASTINGS And then? + +Messenger And then he sends you word + He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm: + Besides, he says there are two councils held; + And that may be determined at the one + which may make you and him to rue at the other. + Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure, + If presently you will take horse with him, + And with all speed post with him toward the north, + To shun the danger that his soul divines. + +HASTINGS Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; + Bid him not fear the separated councils + His honour and myself are at the one, + And at the other is my servant Catesby + Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us + Whereof I shall not have intelligence. + Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance: + And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond + To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers + To fly the boar before the boar pursues, + Were to incense the boar to follow us + And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. + Go, bid thy master rise and come to me + And we will both together to the Tower, + Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. + +Messenger My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say. + + [Exit] + + [Enter CATESBY] + +CATESBY Many good morrows to my noble lord! + +HASTINGS Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring + What news, what news, in this our tottering state? + +CATESBY It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; + And I believe twill never stand upright + Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm. + +HASTINGS How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown? + +CATESBY Ay, my good lord. + +HASTINGS I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders + Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced. + But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? + +CATESBY Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward + Upon his party for the gain thereof: + And thereupon he sends you this good news, + That this same very day your enemies, + The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. + +HASTINGS Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, + Because they have been still mine enemies: + But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side, + To bar my master's heirs in true descent, + God knows I will not do it, to the death. + +CATESBY God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! + +HASTINGS But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, + That they who brought me in my master's hate + I live to look upon their tragedy. + I tell thee, Catesby-- + +CATESBY What, my lord? + +HASTINGS Ere a fortnight make me elder, + I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. + +CATESBY 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, + When men are unprepared and look not for it. + +HASTINGS O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out + With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do + With some men else, who think themselves as safe + As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear + To princely Richard and to Buckingham. + +CATESBY The princes both make high account of you; + + [Aside] + + For they account his head upon the bridge. + +HASTINGS I know they do; and I have well deserved it. + + [Enter STANLEY] + + Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man? + Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? + +STANLEY My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby: + You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, + I do not like these several councils, I. + +HASTINGS My lord, + I hold my life as dear as you do yours; + And never in my life, I do protest, + Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: + Think you, but that I know our state secure, + I would be so triumphant as I am? + +STANLEY The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, + Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure, + And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; + But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast. + This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt: + Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! + What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. + +HASTINGS Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord? + To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. + +LORD STANLEY They, for their truth, might better wear their heads + Than some that have accused them wear their hats. + But come, my lord, let us away. + + [Enter a Pursuivant] + +HASTINGS Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow. + + [Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY] + + How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee? + +Pursuivant The better that your lordship please to ask. + +HASTINGS I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now + Than when I met thee last where now we meet: + Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, + By the suggestion of the queen's allies; + But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself-- + This day those enemies are put to death, + And I in better state than e'er I was. + +Pursuivant God hold it, to your honour's good content! + +HASTINGS Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me. + + [Throws him his purse] + +Pursuivant God save your lordship! + + [Exit] + + [Enter a Priest] + +Priest Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. + +HASTINGS I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. + I am in your debt for your last exercise; + Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. + + [He whispers in his ear] + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM] + +BUCKINGHAM What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain? + Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; + Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. + +HASTINGS Good faith, and when I met this holy man, + Those men you talk of came into my mind. + What, go you toward the Tower? + +BUCKINGHAM I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay + I shall return before your lordship thence. + +HASTINGS 'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there. + +BUCKINGHAM [Aside] And supper too, although thou know'st it not. + Come, will you go? + +HASTINGS I'll wait upon your lordship. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Pomfret Castle. + + + [Enter RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying RIVERS, + GREY, and VAUGHAN to death] + +RATCLIFF Come, bring forth the prisoners. + +RIVERS Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: + To-day shalt thou behold a subject die + For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. + +GREY God keep the prince from all the pack of you! + A knot you are of damned blood-suckers! + +VAUGHAN You live that shall cry woe for this after. + +RATCLIFF Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. + +RIVERS O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, + Fatal and ominous to noble peers! + Within the guilty closure of thy walls + Richard the second here was hack'd to death; + And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, + We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. + +GREY Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, + For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. + +RIVERS Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham, + Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God + To hear her prayers for them, as now for us + And for my sister and her princely sons, + Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, + Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. + +RATCLIFF Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. + +RIVERS Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace: + And take our leave, until we meet in heaven. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The Tower of London. + + + [Enter BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF + ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, with others, and take their + seats at a table] + +HASTINGS My lords, at once: the cause why we are met + Is, to determine of the coronation. + In God's name, speak: when is the royal day? + +BUCKINGHAM Are all things fitting for that royal time? + +DERBY It is, and wants but nomination. + +BISHOP OF ELY To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day. + +BUCKINGHAM Who knows the lord protector's mind herein? + Who is most inward with the royal duke? + +BISHOP OF ELY Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. + +BUCKINGHAM Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces, + But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine, + Than I of yours; + Nor I no more of his, than you of mine. + Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. + +HASTINGS I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; + But, for his purpose in the coronation. + I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd + His gracious pleasure any way therein: + But you, my noble lords, may name the time; + And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, + Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +BISHOP OF ELY Now in good time, here comes the duke himself. + +GLOUCESTER My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. + I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope, + My absence doth neglect no great designs, + Which by my presence might have been concluded. + +BUCKINGHAM Had not you come upon your cue, my lord + William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,-- + I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king. + +GLOUCESTER Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; + His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. + +HASTINGS I thank your grace. + +GLOUCESTER My lord of Ely! + +BISHOP OF ELY My lord? + +GLOUCESTER When I was last in Holborn, + I saw good strawberries in your garden there + I do beseech you send for some of them. + +BISHOP OF ELY Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. + + [Exit] + +GLOUCESTER Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. + + [Drawing him aside] + + Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, + And finds the testy gentleman so hot, + As he will lose his head ere give consent + His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it, + Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. + +BUCKINGHAM Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you. + + [Exit GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM following] + +DERBY We have not yet set down this day of triumph. + To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; + For I myself am not so well provided + As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. + + [Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY] + +BISHOP OF ELY Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these + strawberries. + +HASTINGS His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day; + There's some conceit or other likes him well, + When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit. + I think there's never a man in Christendom + That can less hide his love or hate than he; + For by his face straight shall you know his heart. + +DERBY What of his heart perceive you in his face + By any likelihood he show'd to-day? + +HASTINGS Marry, that with no man here he is offended; + For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. + +DERBY I pray God he be not, I say. + + [Re-enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM] + +GLOUCESTER I pray you all, tell me what they deserve + That do conspire my death with devilish plots + Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd + Upon my body with their hellish charms? + +HASTINGS The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, + Makes me most forward in this noble presence + To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be + I say, my lord, they have deserved death. + +GLOUCESTER Then be your eyes the witness of this ill: + See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm + Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up: + And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, + Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, + That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. + +HASTINGS If they have done this thing, my gracious lord-- + +GLOUCESTER If I thou protector of this damned strumpet-- + Tellest thou me of 'ifs'? Thou art a traitor: + Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear, + I will not dine until I see the same. + Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: + The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. + + [Exeunt all but HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and LOVEL] + +HASTINGS Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me; + For I, too fond, might have prevented this. + Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm; + But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly: + Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, + And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, + As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. + O, now I want the priest that spake to me: + I now repent I told the pursuivant + As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies, + How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, + And I myself secure in grace and favour. + O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse + Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head! + +RATCLIFF Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner: + Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head. + +HASTINGS O momentary grace of mortal men, + Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! + Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, + Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, + Ready, with every nod, to tumble down + Into the fatal bowels of the deep. + +LOVEL Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. + +HASTINGS O bloody Richard! miserable England! + I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee + That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. + Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head. + They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V The Tower-walls. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rotten armour, + marvellous ill-favoured] + +GLOUCESTER Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour, + Murder thy breath in the middle of a word, + And then begin again, and stop again, + As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror? + +BUCKINGHAM Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; + Speak and look back, and pry on every side, + Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, + Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks + Are at my service, like enforced smiles; + And both are ready in their offices, + At any time, to grace my stratagems. + But what, is Catesby gone? + +GLOUCESTER He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. + + [Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY] + +BUCKINGHAM Lord mayor,-- + +GLOUCESTER Look to the drawbridge there! + +BUCKINGHAM Hark! a drum. + +GLOUCESTER Catesby, o'erlook the walls. + +BUCKINGHAM Lord mayor, the reason we have sent-- + +GLOUCESTER Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. + +BUCKINGHAM God and our innocency defend and guard us! + +GLOUCESTER Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel. + + [Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head] + +LOVEL Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, + The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. + +GLOUCESTER So dear I loved the man, that I must weep. + I took him for the plainest harmless creature + That breathed upon this earth a Christian; + Made him my book wherein my soul recorded + The history of all her secret thoughts: + So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, + That, his apparent open guilt omitted, + I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, + He lived from all attainder of suspect. + +BUCKINGHAM Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor + That ever lived. + Would you imagine, or almost believe, + Were't not that, by great preservation, + We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor + This day had plotted, in the council-house + To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester? + +Lord Mayor What, had he so? + +GLOUCESTER What, think You we are Turks or infidels? + Or that we would, against the form of law, + Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death, + But that the extreme peril of the case, + The peace of England and our persons' safety, + Enforced us to this execution? + +Lord Mayor Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death; + And you my good lords, both have well proceeded, + To warn false traitors from the like attempts. + I never look'd for better at his hands, + After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. + +GLOUCESTER Yet had not we determined he should die, + Until your lordship came to see his death; + Which now the loving haste of these our friends, + Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented: + Because, my lord, we would have had you heard + The traitor speak, and timorously confess + The manner and the purpose of his treason; + That you might well have signified the same + Unto the citizens, who haply may + Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. + +Lord Mayor But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve, + As well as I had seen and heard him speak + And doubt you not, right noble princes both, + But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens + With all your just proceedings in this cause. + +GLOUCESTER And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here, + To avoid the carping censures of the world. + +BUCKINGHAM But since you come too late of our intents, + Yet witness what you hear we did intend: + And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. + + [Exit Lord Mayor] + +GLOUCESTER Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. + The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post: + There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, + Infer the bastardy of Edward's children: + Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen, + Only for saying he would make his son + Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house, + Which, by the sign thereof was termed so. + Moreover, urge his hateful luxury + And bestial appetite in change of lust; + Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives, + Even where his lustful eye or savage heart, + Without control, listed to make his prey. + Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: + Tell them, when that my mother went with child + Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York + My princely father then had wars in France + And, by just computation of the time, + Found that the issue was not his begot; + Which well appeared in his lineaments, + Being nothing like the noble duke my father: + But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off, + Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. + +BUCKINGHAM Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator + As if the golden fee for which I plead + Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. + +GLOUCESTER If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; + Where you shall find me well accompanied + With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops. + +BUCKINGHAM I go: and towards three or four o'clock + Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. + + [Exit BUCKINGHAM] + +GLOUCESTER Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw; + + [To CATESBY] + + Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both + Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. + + [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER] + + Now will I in, to take some privy order, + To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; + And to give notice, that no manner of person + At any time have recourse unto the princes. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI The same. + + + [Enter a Scrivener, with a paper in his hand] + +Scrivener This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; + Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, + That it may be this day read over in Paul's. + And mark how well the sequel hangs together: + Eleven hours I spent to write it over, + For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me; + The precedent was full as long a-doing: + And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings, + Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty + Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross, + That seeth not this palpable device? + Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? + Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, + When such bad dealings must be seen in thought. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII Baynard's Castle. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors] + +GLOUCESTER How now, my lord, what say the citizens? + +BUCKINGHAM Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, + The citizens are mum and speak not a word. + +GLOUCESTER Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? + +BUCKINGHAM I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, + And his contract by deputy in France; + The insatiate greediness of his desires, + And his enforcement of the city wives; + His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, + As being got, your father then in France, + His resemblance, being not like the duke; + Withal I did infer your lineaments, + Being the right idea of your father, + Both in your form and nobleness of mind; + Laid open all your victories in Scotland, + Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace, + Your bounty, virtue, fair humility: + Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose + Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse + And when mine oratory grew to an end + I bid them that did love their country's good + Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!' + +GLOUCESTER Ah! and did they so? + +BUCKINGHAM No, so God help me, they spake not a word; + But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, + Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale. + Which when I saw, I reprehended them; + And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: + His answer was, the people were not wont + To be spoke to but by the recorder. + Then he was urged to tell my tale again, + 'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;' + But nothing spake in warrant from himself. + When he had done, some followers of mine own, + At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, + And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' + And thus I took the vantage of those few, + 'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; + 'This general applause and loving shout + Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:' + And even here brake off, and came away. + +GLOUCESTER What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak? + +BUCKINGHAM No, by my troth, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? + +BUCKINGHAM The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear; + Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: + And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, + And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; + For on that ground I'll build a holy descant: + And be not easily won to our request: + Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. + +GLOUCESTER I go; and if you plead as well for them + As I can say nay to thee for myself, + No doubt well bring it to a happy issue. + +BUCKINGHAM Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. + + [Exit GLOUCESTER] + + [Enter the Lord Mayor and Citizens] + + Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here; + I think the duke will not be spoke withal. + + [Enter CATESBY] + + Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, + What says he? + +CATESBY My lord: he doth entreat your grace; + To visit him to-morrow or next day: + He is within, with two right reverend fathers, + Divinely bent to meditation; + And no worldly suit would he be moved, + To draw him from his holy exercise. + +BUCKINGHAM Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again; + Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, + In deep designs and matters of great moment, + No less importing than our general good, + Are come to have some conference with his grace. + +CATESBY I'll tell him what you say, my lord. + + [Exit] + +BUCKINGHAM Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! + He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, + But on his knees at meditation; + Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, + But meditating with two deep divines; + Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, + But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: + Happy were England, would this gracious prince + Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: + But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. + +Lord Mayor Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay! + +BUCKINGHAM I fear he will. + + [Re-enter CATESBY] + + How now, Catesby, what says your lord? + +CATESBY My lord, + He wonders to what end you have assembled + Such troops of citizens to speak with him, + His grace not being warn'd thereof before: + My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. + +BUCKINGHAM Sorry I am my noble cousin should + Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: + By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; + And so once more return and tell his grace. + + [Exit CATESBY] + + When holy and devout religious men + Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence, + So sweet is zealous contemplation. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two Bishops. + CATESBY returns] + +Lord Mayor See, where he stands between two clergymen! + +BUCKINGHAM Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, + To stay him from the fall of vanity: + And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, + True ornaments to know a holy man. + Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, + Lend favourable ears to our request; + And pardon us the interruption + Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. + +GLOUCESTER My lord, there needs no such apology: + I rather do beseech you pardon me, + Who, earnest in the service of my God, + Neglect the visitation of my friends. + But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? + +BUCKINGHAM Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, + And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. + +GLOUCESTER I do suspect I have done some offence + That seems disgracious in the city's eyes, + And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. + +BUCKINGHAM You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, + At our entreaties, to amend that fault! + +GLOUCESTER Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? + +BUCKINGHAM Then know, it is your fault that you resign + The supreme seat, the throne majestical, + The scepter'd office of your ancestors, + Your state of fortune and your due of birth, + The lineal glory of your royal house, + To the corruption of a blemished stock: + Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, + Which here we waken to our country's good, + This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; + Her face defaced with scars of infamy, + Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, + And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf + Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. + Which to recure, we heartily solicit + Your gracious self to take on you the charge + And kingly government of this your land, + Not as protector, steward, substitute, + Or lowly factor for another's gain; + But as successively from blood to blood, + Your right of birth, your empery, your own. + For this, consorted with the citizens, + Your very worshipful and loving friends, + And by their vehement instigation, + In this just suit come I to move your grace. + +GLOUCESTER I know not whether to depart in silence, + Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. + Best fitteth my degree or your condition + If not to answer, you might haply think + Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded + To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, + Which fondly you would here impose on me; + If to reprove you for this suit of yours, + So season'd with your faithful love to me. + Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends. + Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, + And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, + Definitively thus I answer you. + Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert + Unmeritable shuns your high request. + First if all obstacles were cut away, + And that my path were even to the crown, + As my ripe revenue and due by birth + Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, + So mighty and so many my defects, + As I had rather hide me from my greatness, + Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, + Than in my greatness covet to be hid, + And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. + But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me, + And much I need to help you, if need were; + The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, + Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, + Will well become the seat of majesty, + And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. + On him I lay what you would lay on me, + The right and fortune of his happy stars; + Which God defend that I should wring from him! + +BUCKINGHAM My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; + But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, + All circumstances well considered. + You say that Edward is your brother's son: + So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; + For first he was contract to Lady Lucy-- + Your mother lives a witness to that vow-- + And afterward by substitute betroth'd + To Bona, sister to the King of France. + These both put by a poor petitioner, + A care-crazed mother of a many children, + A beauty-waning and distressed widow, + Even in the afternoon of her best days, + Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, + Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts + To base declension and loathed bigamy + By her, in his unlawful bed, he got + This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. + More bitterly could I expostulate, + Save that, for reverence to some alive, + I give a sparing limit to my tongue. + Then, good my lord, take to your royal self + This proffer'd benefit of dignity; + If non to bless us and the land withal, + Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry + From the corruption of abusing times, + Unto a lineal true-derived course. + +Lord Mayor Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you. + +BUCKINGHAM Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. + +CATESBY O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! + +GLOUCESTER Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? + I am unfit for state and majesty; + I do beseech you, take it not amiss; + I cannot nor I will not yield to you. + +BUCKINGHAM If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, + Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; + As well we know your tenderness of heart + And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, + Which we have noted in you to your kin, + And egally indeed to all estates,-- + Yet whether you accept our suit or no, + Your brother's son shall never reign our king; + But we will plant some other in the throne, + To the disgrace and downfall of your house: + And in this resolution here we leave you.-- + Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more. + +GLOUCESTER O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. + + [Exit BUCKINGHAM with the Citizens] + +CATESBY Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit. + +ANOTHER Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it. + +GLOUCESTER Would you enforce me to a world of care? + Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, + But penetrable to your. kind entreats, + Albeit against my conscience and my soul. + + [Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest] + + Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, + Since you will buckle fortune on my back, + To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, + I must have patience to endure the load: + But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach + Attend the sequel of your imposition, + Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me + From all the impure blots and stains thereof; + For God he knows, and you may partly see, + How far I am from the desire thereof. + +Lord Mayor God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. + +GLOUCESTER In saying so, you shall but say the truth. + +BUCKINGHAM Then I salute you with this kingly title: + Long live Richard, England's royal king! + + +Lord Mayor | + | Amen. +Citizens | + + +BUCKINGHAM To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd? + +GLOUCESTER Even when you please, since you will have it so. + +BUCKINGHAM To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: + And so most joyfully we take our leave. + +GLOUCESTER Come, let us to our holy task again. + Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Before the Tower. + + + [Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF + YORK, and DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of + Gloucester, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet, + CLARENCE's young Daughter] + +DUCHESS OF YORK Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet + Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? + Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, + On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes. + Daughter, well met. + +LADY ANNE God give your graces both + A happy and a joyful time of day! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH As much to you, good sister! Whither away? + +LADY ANNE No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, + Upon the like devotion as yourselves, + To gratulate the gentle princes there. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together. + + [Enter BRAKENBURY] + + And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. + Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, + How doth the prince, and my young son of York? + +BRAKENBURY Right well, dear madam. By your patience, + I may not suffer you to visit them; + The king hath straitly charged the contrary. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH The king! why, who's that? + +BRAKENBURY I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH The Lord protect him from that kingly title! + Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? + I am their mother; who should keep me from them? + +DUCHESS OF YORK I am their fathers mother; I will see them. + +LADY ANNE Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother: + Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame + And take thy office from thee, on my peril. + +BRAKENBURY No, madam, no; I may not leave it so: + I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. + + [Exit] + + [Enter LORD STANLEY] + +LORD STANLEY Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, + And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, + And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. + + [To LADY ANNE] + + Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, + There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart + May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon + With this dead-killing news! + +LADY ANNE Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! + +DORSET Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence! + Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; + Thy mother's name is ominous to children. + If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, + And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell + Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, + Lest thou increase the number of the dead; + And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, + Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. + +LORD STANLEY Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. + Take all the swift advantage of the hours; + You shall have letters from me to my son + To meet you on the way, and welcome you. + Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. + +DUCHESS OF YORK O ill-dispersing wind of misery! + O my accursed womb, the bed of death! + A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, + Whose unavoided eye is murderous. + +LORD STANLEY Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. + +LADY ANNE And I in all unwillingness will go. + I would to God that the inclusive verge + Of golden metal that must round my brow + Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! + Anointed let me be with deadly venom, + And die, ere men can say, God save the queen! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory + To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. + +LADY ANNE No! why? When he that is my husband now + Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, + When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands + Which issued from my other angel husband + And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; + O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, + This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed, + For making me, so young, so old a widow! + And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; + And be thy wife--if any be so mad-- + As miserable by the life of thee + As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! + Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, + Even in so short a space, my woman's heart + Grossly grew captive to his honey words + And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, + Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; + For never yet one hour in his bed + Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, + But have been waked by his timorous dreams. + Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; + And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. + +LADY ANNE No more than from my soul I mourn for yours. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! + +LADY ANNE Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it! + +DUCHESS OF YORK [To DORSET] + + Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee! + + [To LADY ANNE] + + Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee! + + [To QUEEN ELIZABETH] + + Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! + I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! + Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, + And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower. + Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes + Whom envy hath immured within your walls! + Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! + Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow + For tender princes, use my babies well! + So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II London. The palace. + + + [Sennet. Enter KING RICHARD III, in pomp, crowned; + BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a page, and others] + +KING RICHARD III Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham! + +BUCKINGHAM My gracious sovereign? + +KING RICHARD III Give me thy hand. + + [Here he ascendeth his throne] + + Thus high, by thy advice + And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; + But shall we wear these honours for a day? + Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? + +BUCKINGHAM Still live they and for ever may they last! + +KING RICHARD III O Buckingham, now do I play the touch, + To try if thou be current gold indeed + Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. + +BUCKINGHAM Say on, my loving lord. + +KING RICHARD III Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king, + +BUCKINGHAM Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege. + +KING RICHARD III Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives. + +BUCKINGHAM True, noble prince. + +KING RICHARD III O bitter consequence, + That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' + Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: + Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; + And I would have it suddenly perform'd. + What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief. + +BUCKINGHAM Your grace may do your pleasure. + +KING RICHARD III Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: + Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? + +BUCKINGHAM Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord + Before I positively herein: + I will resolve your grace immediately. + + [Exit] + +CATESBY [Aside to a stander by] + + The king is angry: see, he bites the lip. + +KING RICHARD III I will converse with iron-witted fools + And unrespective boys: none are for me + That look into me with considerate eyes: + High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. + Boy! + +Page My lord? + +KING RICHARD III Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold + Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? + +Page My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, + Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: + Gold were as good as twenty orators, + And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. + +KING RICHARD III What is his name? + +Page His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. + +KING RICHARD III I partly know the man: go, call him hither. + + [Exit Page] + + The deep-revolving witty Buckingham + No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: + Hath he so long held out with me untired, + And stops he now for breath? + + [Enter STANLEY] + + How now! what news with you? + +STANLEY My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled + To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea + Where he abides. + + [Stands apart] + +KING RICHARD III Catesby! + +CATESBY My lord? + +KING RICHARD III Rumour it abroad + That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: + I will take order for her keeping close. + Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, + Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: + The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. + Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out + That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: + About it; for it stands me much upon, + To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. + + [Exit CATESBY] + + I must be married to my brother's daughter, + Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. + Murder her brothers, and then marry her! + Uncertain way of gain! But I am in + So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin: + Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. + + [Re-enter Page, with TYRREL] + + Is thy name Tyrrel? + +TYRREL James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. + +KING RICHARD III Art thou, indeed? + +TYRREL Prove me, my gracious sovereign. + +KING RICHARD III Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? + +TYRREL Ay, my lord; + But I had rather kill two enemies. + +KING RICHARD III Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies, + Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers + Are they that I would have thee deal upon: + Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. + +TYRREL Let me have open means to come to them, + And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. + +KING RICHARD III Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel + Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: + + [Whispers] + + There is no more but so: say it is done, + And I will love thee, and prefer thee too. + +TYRREL 'Tis done, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep? + +TYRREL Ye shall, my Lord. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter BUCKINGHAM] + +BUCKINGHAM My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind + The late demand that you did sound me in. + +KING RICHARD III Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM I hear that news, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it. + +BUCKINGHAM My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, + For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; + The earldom of Hereford and the moveables + The which you promised I should possess. + +KING RICHARD III Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey + Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. + +BUCKINGHAM What says your highness to my just demand? + +KING RICHARD III As I remember, Henry the Sixth + Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, + When Richmond was a little peevish boy. + A king, perhaps, perhaps,-- + +BUCKINGHAM My lord! + +KING RICHARD III How chance the prophet could not at that time + Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? + +BUCKINGHAM My lord, your promise for the earldom,-- + +KING RICHARD III Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, + The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, + And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started, + Because a bard of Ireland told me once + I should not live long after I saw Richmond. + +BUCKINGHAM My Lord! + +KING RICHARD III Ay, what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM I am thus bold to put your grace in mind + Of what you promised me. + +KING RICHARD III Well, but what's o'clock? + +BUCKINGHAM Upon the stroke of ten. + +KING RICHARD III Well, let it strike. + +BUCKINGHAM Why let it strike? + +KING RICHARD III Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke + Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. + I am not in the giving vein to-day. + +BUCKINGHAM Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. + +KING RICHARD III Tut, tut, + Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. + + [Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM] + +BUCKINGHAM Is it even so? rewards he my true service + With such deep contempt made I him king for this? + O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone + To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! + + [Exit] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Enter TYRREL] + +TYRREL The tyrannous and bloody deed is done. + The most arch of piteous massacre + That ever yet this land was guilty of. + Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn + To do this ruthless piece of butchery, + Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, + Melting with tenderness and kind compassion + Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories. + 'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:' + 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another + Within their innocent alabaster arms: + Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, + Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. + A book of prayers on their pillow lay; + Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind; + But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd + Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered + The most replenished sweet work of nature, + That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' + Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse; + They could not speak; and so I left them both, + To bring this tidings to the bloody king. + And here he comes. + + [Enter KING RICHARD III] + + All hail, my sovereign liege! + +KING RICHARD III Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? + +TYRREL If to have done the thing you gave in charge + Beget your happiness, be happy then, + For it is done, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III But didst thou see them dead? + +TYRREL I did, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III And buried, gentle Tyrrel? + +TYRREL The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; + But how or in what place I do not know. + +KING RICHARD III Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, + And thou shalt tell the process of their death. + Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, + And be inheritor of thy desire. + Farewell till soon. + + [Exit TYRREL] + + The son of Clarence have I pent up close; + His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; + The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, + And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. + Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims + At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, + And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown, + To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. + + [Enter CATESBY] + +CATESBY My lord! + +KING RICHARD III Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? + +CATESBY Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond; + And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, + Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. + +KING RICHARD III Ely with Richmond troubles me more near + Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army. + Come, I have heard that fearful commenting + Is leaden servitor to dull delay; + Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary + Then fiery expedition be my wing, + Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! + Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; + We must be brief when traitors brave the field. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Before the palace. + + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET] + +QUEEN MARGARET So, now prosperity begins to mellow + And drop into the rotten mouth of death. + Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, + To watch the waning of mine adversaries. + A dire induction am I witness to, + And will to France, hoping the consequence + Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. + Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here? + + [Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK] + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes! + My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! + If yet your gentle souls fly in the air + And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, + Hover about me with your airy wings + And hear your mother's lamentation! + +QUEEN MARGARET Hover about her; say, that right for right + Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. + +DUCHESS OF YORK So many miseries have crazed my voice, + That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, + Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? + +QUEEN MARGARET Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. + Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, + And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? + When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? + +QUEEN MARGARET When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, + Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, + Brief abstract and record of tedious days, + Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, + + [Sitting down] + + Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave + As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! + Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. + O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? + + [Sitting down by her] + +QUEEN MARGARET If ancient sorrow be most reverend, + Give mine the benefit of seniory, + And let my woes frown on the upper hand. + If sorrow can admit society, + + [Sitting down with them] + + Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: + I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; + I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: + Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; + Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; + +DUCHESS OF YORK I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; + I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. + +QUEEN MARGARET Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him. + From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept + A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: + That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, + To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, + That foul defacer of God's handiwork, + That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, + That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, + Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. + O upright, just, and true-disposing God, + How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur + Preys on the issue of his mother's body, + And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! + +DUCHESS OF YORK O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! + God witness with me, I have wept for thine. + +QUEEN MARGARET Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, + And now I cloy me with beholding it. + Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward: + Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; + Young York he is but boot, because both they + Match not the high perfection of my loss: + Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward; + And the beholders of this tragic play, + The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, + Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. + Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, + Only reserved their factor, to buy souls + And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, + Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: + Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray. + To have him suddenly convey'd away. + Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, + That I may live to say, The dog is dead! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O, thou didst prophesy the time would come + That I should wish for thee to help me curse + That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! + +QUEEN MARGARET I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; + I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen; + The presentation of but what I was; + The flattering index of a direful pageant; + One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below; + A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes; + A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, + A sign of dignity, a garish flag, + To be the aim of every dangerous shot, + A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. + Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? + Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy? + Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'? + Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? + Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee? + Decline all this, and see what now thou art: + For happy wife, a most distressed widow; + For joyful mother, one that wails the name; + For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; + For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; + For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; + For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; + For one commanding all, obey'd of none. + Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, + And left thee but a very prey to time; + Having no more but thought of what thou wert, + To torture thee the more, being what thou art. + Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not + Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? + Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke; + From which even here I slip my weary neck, + And leave the burthen of it all on thee. + Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: + These English woes will make me smile in France. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, + And teach me how to curse mine enemies! + +QUEEN MARGARET Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; + Compare dead happiness with living woe; + Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, + And he that slew them fouler than he is: + Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse: + Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine! + +QUEEN MARGARET Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. + + [Exit] + +DUCHESS OF YORK Why should calamity be full of words? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Windy attorneys to their client woes, + Airy succeeders of intestate joys, + Poor breathing orators of miseries! + Let them have scope: though what they do impart + Help not all, yet do they ease the heart. + +DUCHESS OF YORK If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me. + And in the breath of bitter words let's smother + My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd. + I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. + + [Enter KING RICHARD III, marching, with drums and trumpets] + +KING RICHARD III Who intercepts my expedition? + +DUCHESS OF YORK O, she that might have intercepted thee, + By strangling thee in her accursed womb + From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, + Where should be graven, if that right were right, + The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, + And the dire death of my two sons and brothers? + Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? + +DUCHESS OF YORK Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? + And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? + +KING RICHARD III A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! + Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women + Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say! + + [Flourish. Alarums] + + Either be patient, and entreat me fair, + Or with the clamorous report of war + Thus will I drown your exclamations. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou my son? + +KING RICHARD III Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Then patiently hear my impatience. + +KING RICHARD III Madam, I have a touch of your condition, + Which cannot brook the accent of reproof. + +DUCHESS OF YORK O, let me speak! + +KING RICHARD III Do then: but I'll not hear. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I will be mild and gentle in my speech. + +KING RICHARD III And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, + God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. + +KING RICHARD III And came I not at last to comfort you? + +DUCHESS OF YORK No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, + Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. + A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; + Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; + Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, + Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, + Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody, + treacherous, + More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: + What comfortable hour canst thou name, + That ever graced me in thy company? + +KING RICHARD III Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd + your grace + To breakfast once forth of my company. + If I be so disgracious in your sight, + Let me march on, and not offend your grace. + Strike the drum. + +DUCHESS OF YORK I prithee, hear me speak. + +KING RICHARD III You speak too bitterly. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Hear me a word; + For I shall never speak to thee again. + +KING RICHARD III So. + +DUCHESS OF YORK Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, + Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, + Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish + And never look upon thy face again. + Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; + Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more + Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! + My prayers on the adverse party fight; + And there the little souls of Edward's children + Whisper the spirits of thine enemies + And promise them success and victory. + Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; + Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. + + [Exit] + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse + Abides in me; I say amen to all. + +KING RICHARD III Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH I have no more sons of the royal blood + For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, + They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; + And therefore level not to hit their lives. + +KING RICHARD III You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, + Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH And must she die for this? O, let her live, + And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; + Slander myself as false to Edward's bed; + Throw over her the veil of infamy: + So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, + I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. + +KING RICHARD III Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH To save her life, I'll say she is not so. + +KING RICHARD III Her life is only safest in her birth. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH And only in that safety died her brothers. + +KING RICHARD III Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. + +KING RICHARD III All unavoided is the doom of destiny. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH True, when avoided grace makes destiny: + My babes were destined to a fairer death, + If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. + +KING RICHARD III You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd + Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. + Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts, + Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: + No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt + Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, + To revel in the entrails of my lambs. + But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, + My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys + Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; + And I, in such a desperate bay of death, + Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, + Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. + +KING RICHARD III Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise + And dangerous success of bloody wars, + As I intend more good to you and yours, + Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd! + +QUEEN ELIZABETH What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, + To be discover'd, that can do me good? + +KING RICHARD III The advancement of your children, gentle lady. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? + +KING RICHARD III No, to the dignity and height of honour + The high imperial type of this earth's glory. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Flatter my sorrows with report of it; + Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, + Canst thou demise to any child of mine? + +KING RICHARD III Even all I have; yea, and myself and all, + Will I withal endow a child of thine; + So in the Lethe of thy angry soul + Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs + Which thou supposest I have done to thee. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness + Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. + +KING RICHARD III Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. + +KING RICHARD III What do you think? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: + So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; + And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. + +KING RICHARD III Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: + I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, + And mean to make her queen of England. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? + +KING RICHARD III Even he that makes her queen who should be else? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH What, thou? + +KING RICHARD III I, even I: what think you of it, madam? + +QUEEN ELIZABETH How canst thou woo her? + +KING RICHARD III That would I learn of you, + As one that are best acquainted with her humour. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH And wilt thou learn of me? + +KING RICHARD III Madam, with all my heart. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, + A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave + Edward and York; then haply she will weep: + Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret + Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- + A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain + The purple sap from her sweet brother's body + And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith. + If this inducement force her not to love, + Send her a story of thy noble acts; + Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, + Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, + Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. + +KING RICHARD III Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way + To win our daughter. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH There is no other way + Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, + And not be Richard that hath done all this. + +KING RICHARD III Say that I did all this for love of her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, + Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. + +KING RICHARD III Look, what is done cannot be now amended: + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after hours give leisure to repent. + If I did take the kingdom from your sons, + To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter. + If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, + To quicken your increase, I will beget + Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter + A grandam's name is little less in love + Than is the doting title of a mother; + They are as children but one step below, + Even of your mettle, of your very blood; + Of an one pain, save for a night of groans + Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. + Your children were vexation to your youth, + But mine shall be a comfort to your age. + The loss you have is but a son being king, + And by that loss your daughter is made queen. + I cannot make you what amends I would, + Therefore accept such kindness as I can. + Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul + Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, + This fair alliance quickly shall call home + To high promotions and great dignity: + The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife. + Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; + Again shall you be mother to a king, + And all the ruins of distressful times + Repair'd with double riches of content. + What! we have many goodly days to see: + The liquid drops of tears that you have shed + Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, + Advantaging their loan with interest + Of ten times double gain of happiness. + Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go + Make bold her bashful years with your experience; + Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale + Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame + Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess + With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys + And when this arm of mine hath chastised + The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, + Bound with triumphant garlands will I come + And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; + To whom I will retail my conquest won, + And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH What were I best to say? her father's brother + Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle? + Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? + Under what title shall I woo for thee, + That God, the law, my honour and her love, + Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? + +KING RICHARD III Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. + +KING RICHARD III Say that the king, which may command, entreats. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH That at her hands which the king's King forbids. + +KING RICHARD III Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH To wail the tide, as her mother doth. + +KING RICHARD III Say, I will love her everlastingly. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long shall that title 'ever' last? + +KING RICHARD III Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last? + +KING RICHARD III So long as heaven and nature lengthens it. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH So long as hell and Richard likes of it. + +KING RICHARD III Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. + +KING RICHARD III Be eloquent in my behalf to her. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. + +KING RICHARD III Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. + +KING RICHARD III Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; + Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. + +KING RICHARD III Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. + +KING RICHARD III Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. + +KING RICHARD III I swear-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH By nothing; for this is no oath: + The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; + The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; + The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory. + if something thou wilt swear to be believed, + Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. + +KING RICHARD III Now, by the world-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. + +KING RICHARD III My father's death-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Thy life hath that dishonour'd. + +KING RICHARD III Then, by myself-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Thyself thyself misusest. + +KING RICHARD III Why then, by God-- + +QUEEN ELIZABETH God's wrong is most of all. + If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, + The unity the king thy brother made + Had not been broken, nor my brother slain: + If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, + The imperial metal, circling now thy brow, + Had graced the tender temples of my child, + And both the princes had been breathing here, + Which now, two tender playfellows to dust, + Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. + What canst thou swear by now? + +KING RICHARD III The time to come. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; + For I myself have many tears to wash + Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee. + The children live, whose parents thou hast + slaughter'd, + Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; + The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, + Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age. + Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast + Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast. + +KING RICHARD III As I intend to prosper and repent, + So thrive I in my dangerous attempt + Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! + Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! + Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! + Be opposite all planets of good luck + To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love, + Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, + I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! + In her consists my happiness and thine; + Without her, follows to this land and me, + To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, + Death, desolation, ruin and decay: + It cannot be avoided but by this; + It will not be avoided but by this. + Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so-- + Be the attorney of my love to her: + Plead what I will be, not what I have been; + Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: + Urge the necessity and state of times, + And be not peevish-fond in great designs. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? + +KING RICHARD III Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself? + +KING RICHARD III Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH But thou didst kill my children. + +KING RICHARD III But in your daughter's womb I bury them: + Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed + Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? + +KING RICHARD III And be a happy mother by the deed. + +QUEEN ELIZABETH I go. Write to me very shortly. + And you shall understand from me her mind. + +KING RICHARD III Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. + + [Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH] + + Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! + + [Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following] + + How now! what news? + +RATCLIFF My gracious sovereign, on the western coast + Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore + Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, + Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back: + 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; + And there they hull, expecting but the aid + Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. + +KING RICHARD III Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk: + Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? + +CATESBY Here, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III Fly to the duke: + + [To RATCLIFF] + + Post thou to Salisbury + When thou comest thither-- + + [To CATESBY] + + Dull, unmindful villain, + Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke? + +CATESBY First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind, + What from your grace I shall deliver to him. + +KING RICHARD III O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight + The greatest strength and power he can make, + And meet me presently at Salisbury. + +CATESBY I go. + + [Exit] + +RATCLIFF What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at + Salisbury? + +KING RICHARD III Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? + +RATCLIFF Your highness told me I should post before. + +KING RICHARD III My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed. + + [Enter STANLEY] + + How now, what news with you? + +STANLEY None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing; + Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. + +KING RICHARD III Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! + Why dost thou run so many mile about, + When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way? + Once more, what news? + +STANLEY Richmond is on the seas. + +KING RICHARD III There let him sink, and be the seas on him! + White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? + +STANLEY I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. + +KING RICHARD III Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess? + +STANLEY Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely, + He makes for England, there to claim the crown. + +KING RICHARD III Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? + Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? + What heir of York is there alive but we? + And who is England's king but great York's heir? + Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea? + +STANLEY Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. + +KING RICHARD III Unless for that he comes to be your liege, + You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. + Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. + +STANLEY No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. + +KING RICHARD III Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? + Where are thy tenants and thy followers? + Are they not now upon the western shore. + Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships! + +STANLEY No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. + +KING RICHARD III Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north, + When they should serve their sovereign in the west? + +STANLEY They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign: + Please it your majesty to give me leave, + I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace + Where and what time your majesty shall please. + +KING RICHARD III Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond: + I will not trust you, sir. + +STANLEY Most mighty sovereign, + You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful: + I never was nor never will be false. + +KING RICHARD III Well, + Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind + Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm. + Or else his head's assurance is but frail. + +STANLEY So deal with him as I prove true to you. + + [Exit] + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, + As I by friends am well advertised, + Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate + Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, + With many more confederates, are in arms. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Second Messenger My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms; + And every hour more competitors + Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Third Messenger My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham-- + +KING RICHARD III Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death? + + [He striketh him] + + Take that, until thou bring me better news. + +Third Messenger The news I have to tell your majesty + Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, + Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd; + And he himself wander'd away alone, + No man knows whither. + +KING RICHARD III I cry thee mercy: + There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. + Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd + Reward to him that brings the traitor in? + +Third Messenger Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. + + [Enter another Messenger] + +Fourth Messenger Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset, + 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. + Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, + The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest: + Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat + Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks + If they were his assistants, yea or no; + Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham. + Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, + Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany. + +KING RICHARD III March on, march on, since we are up in arms; + If not to fight with foreign enemies, + Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. + + [Re-enter CATESBY] + +CATESBY My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken; + That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond + Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, + Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. + +KING RICHARD III Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here, + A royal battle might be won and lost + Some one take order Buckingham be brought + To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Lord Derby's house. + + + [Enter DERBY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK] + +DERBY Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: + That in the sty of this most bloody boar + My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: + If I revolt, off goes young George's head; + The fear of that withholds my present aid. + But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? + +CHRISTOPHER At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales. + +DERBY What men of name resort to him? + +CHRISTOPHER Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; + Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley; + Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, + And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew; + And many more of noble fame and worth: + And towards London they do bend their course, + If by the way they be not fought withal. + +DERBY Return unto thy lord; commend me to him: + Tell him the queen hath heartily consented + He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. + These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Salisbury. An open place. + + + [Enter the Sheriff, and BUCKINGHAM, with halberds, + led to execution] + +BUCKINGHAM Will not King Richard let me speak with him? + +Sheriff No, my good lord; therefore be patient. + +BUCKINGHAM Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey, + Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, + Vaughan, and all that have miscarried + By underhand corrupted foul injustice, + If that your moody discontented souls + Do through the clouds behold this present hour, + Even for revenge mock my destruction! + This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? + +Sheriff It is, my lord. + +BUCKINGHAM Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. + This is the day that, in King Edward's time, + I wish't might fall on me, when I was found + False to his children or his wife's allies + This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall + By the false faith of him I trusted most; + This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul + Is the determined respite of my wrongs: + That high All-Seer that I dallied with + Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head + And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. + Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men + To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: + Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; + 'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, + Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' + Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; + Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The camp near Tamworth. + + + [Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, BLUNT, HERBERT, and others, + with drum and colours] + +RICHMOND Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, + Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, + Thus far into the bowels of the land + Have we march'd on without impediment; + And here receive we from our father Stanley + Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. + The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, + That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, + Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough + In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine + Lies now even in the centre of this isle, + Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn + From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. + In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, + To reap the harvest of perpetual peace + By this one bloody trial of sharp war. + +OXFORD Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, + To fight against that bloody homicide. + +HERBERT I doubt not but his friends will fly to us. + +BLUNT He hath no friends but who are friends for fear. + Which in his greatest need will shrink from him. + +RICHMOND All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march: + True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings: + Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Bosworth Field. + + + [Enter KING RICHARD III in arms, with NORFOLK, + SURREY, and others] + +KING RICHARD III Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. + My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? + +SURREY My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. + +KING RICHARD III My Lord of Norfolk,-- + +NORFOLK Here, most gracious liege. + + +KING RICHARD III Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not? + +NORFOLK We must both give and take, my gracious lord. + +KING RICHARD III Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight; + But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. + Who hath descried the number of the foe? + +NORFOLK Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. + +KING RICHARD III Why, our battalion trebles that account: + Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, + Which they upon the adverse party want. + Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, + Let us survey the vantage of the field + Call for some men of sound direction + Let's want no discipline, make no delay, + For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, + Sir William Brandon, OXFORD, and others. Some of + the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND's tent] + +RICHMOND The weary sun hath made a golden set, + And by the bright track of his fiery car, + Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow. + Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. + Give me some ink and paper in my tent + I'll draw the form and model of our battle, + Limit each leader to his several charge, + And part in just proportion our small strength. + My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, + And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. + The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: + Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him + And by the second hour in the morning + Desire the earl to see me in my tent: + Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st, + Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know? + +BLUNT Unless I have mista'en his colours much, + Which well I am assured I have not done, + His regiment lies half a mile at least + South from the mighty power of the king. + +RICHMOND If without peril it be possible, + Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, + And give him from me this most needful scroll. + +BLUNT Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it; + And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! + +RICHMOND Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen, + Let us consult upon to-morrow's business + In to our tent; the air is raw and cold. + + [They withdraw into the tent] + + [Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD III, NORFOLK, + RATCLIFF, CATESBY, and others] + +KING RICHARD III What is't o'clock? + +CATESBY It's supper-time, my lord; + It's nine o'clock. + +KING RICHARD III I will not sup to-night. + Give me some ink and paper. + What, is my beaver easier than it was? + And all my armour laid into my tent? + +CATESBY If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. + +KING RICHARD III Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; + Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. + +NORFOLK I go, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. + +NORFOLK I warrant you, my lord. + + [Exit] + +KING RICHARD III Catesby! + +CATESBY My lord? + +KING RICHARD III Send out a pursuivant at arms + To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power + Before sunrising, lest his son George fall + Into the blind cave of eternal night. + + [Exit CATESBY] + + Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. + Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. + Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. + Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF My lord? + +KING RICHARD III Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? + +RATCLIFF Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, + Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop + Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. + +KING RICHARD III So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: + I have not that alacrity of spirit, + Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. + Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? + +RATCLIFF It is, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III Bid my guard watch; leave me. + Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent + And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. + + [Exeunt RATCLIFF and the other Attendants] + + [Enter DERBY to RICHMOND in his tent, Lords and + others attending] + +DERBY Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! + +RICHMOND All comfort that the dark night can afford + Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! + Tell me, how fares our loving mother? + +DERBY I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother + Who prays continually for Richmond's good: + So much for that. The silent hours steal on, + And flaky darkness breaks within the east. + In brief,--for so the season bids us be,-- + Prepare thy battle early in the morning, + And put thy fortune to the arbitrement + Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. + I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,-- + With best advantage will deceive the time, + And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: + But on thy side I may not be too forward + Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, + Be executed in his father's sight. + Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time + Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love + And ample interchange of sweet discourse, + Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon: + God give us leisure for these rites of love! + Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well! + +RICHMOND Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: + I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, + Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, + When I should mount with wings of victory: + Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. + + [Exeunt all but RICHMOND] + + O Thou, whose captain I account myself, + Look on my forces with a gracious eye; + Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, + That they may crush down with a heavy fall + The usurping helmets of our adversaries! + Make us thy ministers of chastisement, + That we may praise thee in the victory! + To thee I do commend my watchful soul, + Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: + Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! + + [Sleeps] + + [Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, son to King Henry VI] + +Ghost +of Prince Edward [To KING RICHARD III] + + Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! + Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth + At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die! + + [To RICHMOND] + + Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls + Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf + King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. + + [Enter the Ghost of King Henry VI] + +Ghost +of King Henry VI [To KING RICHARD III] + + When I was mortal, my anointed body + By thee was punched full of deadly holes + Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die! + Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die! + + [To RICHMOND] + + Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! + Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, + Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish! + + [Enter the Ghost of CLARENCE] + +Ghost of CLARENCE [To KING RICHARD III] + + Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! + I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, + Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death! + To-morrow in the battle think on me, + And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!-- + + [To RICHMOND] + + Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster + The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee + Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish! + + [Enter the Ghosts of RIVERS, GRAY, and VAUGHAN] + +Ghost of RIVERS [To KING RICHARD III] + + Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, + Rivers. that died at Pomfret! despair, and die! + +Ghost of GREY [To KING RICHARD III] + + Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! + +Ghost of VAUGHAN [To KING RICHARD III] + + Think upon Vaughan, and, with guilty fear, + Let fall thy lance: despair, and die! + +All [To RICHMOND] + + Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom + Will conquer him! awake, and win the day! + + [Enter the Ghost of HASTINGS] + +Ghost of HASTINGS [To KING RICHARD III] + + Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, + And in a bloody battle end thy days! + Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die! + + [To RICHMOND] + + Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! + Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! + + [Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes] + +Ghosts +of young Princes [To KING RICHARD III] + + Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower: + Let us be led within thy bosom, Richard, + And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! + Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die! + + [To RICHMOND] + + Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; + Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! + Live, and beget a happy race of kings! + Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. + + [Enter the Ghost of LADY ANNE] + +Ghost of LADY ANNE [To KING RICHARD III] + + Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, + That never slept a quiet hour with thee, + Now fills thy sleep with perturbations + To-morrow in the battle think on me, + And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die! + + [To RICHMOND] + + Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep + Dream of success and happy victory! + Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. + + [Enter the Ghost of BUCKINGHAM] + +Ghost +of BUCKINGHAM [To KING RICHARD III] + + The last was I that helped thee to the crown; + The last was I that felt thy tyranny: + O, in the battle think on Buckingham, + And die in terror of thy guiltiness! + Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: + Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! + + [To RICHMOND] + + I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid: + But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: + God and good angel fight on Richmond's side; + And Richard falls in height of all his pride. + + [The Ghosts vanish] + + [KING RICHARD III starts out of his dream] + +KING RICHARD III Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. + Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream. + O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! + The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. + Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. + What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: + Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. + Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: + Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: + Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? + Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good + That I myself have done unto myself? + O, no! alas, I rather hate myself + For hateful deeds committed by myself! + I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. + Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. + My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, + And every tongue brings in a several tale, + And every tale condemns me for a villain. + Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree + Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; + All several sins, all used in each degree, + Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! + I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; + And if I die, no soul shall pity me: + Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself + Find in myself no pity to myself? + Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd + Came to my tent; and every one did threat + To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. + + [Enter RATCLIFF] + +RATCLIFF My lord! + +KING RICHARD III 'Zounds! who is there? + +RATCLIFF Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock + Hath twice done salutation to the morn; + Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. + +KING RICHARD III O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! + What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? + +RATCLIFF No doubt, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,-- + +RATCLIFF Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. + +KING RICHARD III By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night + Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard + Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers + Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. + It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; + Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, + To see if any mean to shrink from me. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter the Lords to RICHMOND, sitting in his tent] + +LORDS Good morrow, Richmond! + +RICHMOND Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, + That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. + +LORDS How have you slept, my lord? + +RICHMOND The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams + That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, + Have I since your departure had, my lords. + Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd, + Came to my tent, and cried on victory: + I promise you, my soul is very jocund + In the remembrance of so fair a dream. + How far into the morning is it, lords? + +LORDS Upon the stroke of four. + +RICHMOND Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. + + [His oration to his soldiers] + + More than I have said, loving countrymen, + The leisure and enforcement of the time + Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, + God and our good cause fight upon our side; + The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, + Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; + Richard except, those whom we fight against + Had rather have us win than him they follow: + For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, + A bloody tyrant and a homicide; + One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd; + One that made means to come by what he hath, + And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; + Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil + Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; + One that hath ever been God's enemy: + Then, if you fight against God's enemy, + God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; + If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, + You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; + If you do fight against your country's foes, + Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; + If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, + Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; + If you do free your children from the sword, + Your children's children quit it in your age. + Then, in the name of God and all these rights, + Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. + For me, the ransom of my bold attempt + Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; + But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt + The least of you shall share his part thereof. + Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; + God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants + and Forces] + +KING RICHARD III What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? + +RATCLIFF That he was never trained up in arms. + +KING RICHARD III He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? + +RATCLIFF He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.' + +KING RICHARD III He was in the right; and so indeed it is. + + [Clock striketh] + + Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar. + Who saw the sun to-day? + +RATCLIFF Not I, my lord. + +KING RICHARD III Then he disdains to shine; for by the book + He should have braved the east an hour ago + A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff! + +RATCLIFF My lord? + +KING RICHARD III The sun will not be seen to-day; + The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. + I would these dewy tears were from the ground. + Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me + More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven + That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. + + [Enter NORFOLK] + +NORFOLK Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. + +KING RICHARD III Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. + Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: + I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, + And thus my battle shall be ordered: + My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, + Consisting equally of horse and foot; + Our archers shall be placed in the midst + John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, + Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. + They thus directed, we will follow + In the main battle, whose puissance on either side + Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. + This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk? + +NORFOLK A good direction, warlike sovereign. + This found I on my tent this morning. + + [He sheweth him a paper] + +KING RICHARD III [Reads] + + 'Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, + For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' + A thing devised by the enemy. + Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge + Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: + Conscience is but a word that cowards use, + Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: + Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. + March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell + If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. + + [His oration to his Army] + + What shall I say more than I have inferr'd? + Remember whom you are to cope withal; + A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, + A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants, + Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth + To desperate ventures and assured destruction. + You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; + You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives, + They would restrain the one, distain the other. + And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, + Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost? + A milk-sop, one that never in his life + Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? + Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; + Lash hence these overweening rags of France, + These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives; + Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, + For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves: + If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us, + And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers + Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, + And in record, left them the heirs of shame. + Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? + Ravish our daughters? + + [Drum afar off] + + Hark! I hear their drum. + Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen! + Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! + Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; + Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! + + [Enter a Messenger] + + What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power? + +Messenger My lord, he doth deny to come. + +KING RICHARD III Off with his son George's head! + +NORFOLK My lord, the enemy is past the marsh + After the battle let George Stanley die. + +KING RICHARD III A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: + Advance our standards, set upon our foes + Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, + Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! + Upon them! victory sits on our helms. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum: excursions. Enter NORFOLK and forces + fighting; to him CATESBY] + +CATESBY Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! + The king enacts more wonders than a man, + Daring an opposite to every danger: + His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, + Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. + Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! + + [Alarums. Enter KING RICHARD III] + +KING RICHARD III A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + +CATESBY Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse. + +KING RICHARD III Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, + And I will stand the hazard of the die: + I think there be six Richmonds in the field; + Five have I slain to-day instead of him. + A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING RICHARD III + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum. Enter KING RICHARD III and RICHMOND; they + fight. KING RICHARD III is slain. Retreat and + flourish. Re-enter RICHMOND, DERBY bearing the + crown, with divers other Lords] + +RICHMOND God and your arms be praised, victorious friends, + The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. + +DERBY Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. + Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty + From the dead temples of this bloody wretch + Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: + Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. + +RICHMOND Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! + But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? + +DERBY He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; + Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. + +RICHMOND What men of name are slain on either side? + +DERBY John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, + Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. + +RICHMOND Inter their bodies as becomes their births: + Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled + That in submission will return to us: + And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, + We will unite the white rose and the red: + Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, + That long have frown'd upon their enmity! + What traitor hears me, and says not amen? + England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; + The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, + The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, + The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: + All this divided York and Lancaster, + Divided in their dire division, + O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, + The true succeeders of each royal house, + By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! + And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so. + Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, + With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! + Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, + That would reduce these bloody days again, + And make poor England weep in streams of blood! + Let them not live to taste this land's increase + That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! + Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: + That she may long live here, God say amen! + + [Exeunt] + A LOVER'S COMPLAINT + + + +FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded +A plaintful story from a sistering vale, +My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, +And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; +Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, +Tearing of papers, breaking rings a-twain, +Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. + +Upon her head a platted hive of straw, +Which fortified her visage from the sun, +Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw +The carcass of beauty spent and done: +Time had not scythed all that youth begun, +Nor youth all quit; but, spite of heaven's fell rage, +Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age. + +Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, +Which on it had conceited characters, +Laundering the silken figures in the brine +That season'd woe had pelleted in tears, +And often reading what contents it bears; +As often shrieking undistinguish'd woe, +In clamours of all size, both high and low. + +Sometimes her levell'd eyes their carriage ride, +As they did battery to the spheres intend; +Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied +To the orbed earth; sometimes they do extend +Their view right on; anon their gazes lend +To every place at once, and, nowhere fix'd, +The mind and sight distractedly commix'd. + +Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, +Proclaim'd in her a careless hand of pride +For some, untuck'd, descended her sheaved hat, +Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; +Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, +And true to bondage would not break from thence, +Though slackly braided in loose negligence. + +A thousand favours from a maund she drew +Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, +Which one by one she in a river threw, +Upon whose weeping margent she was set; +Like usury, applying wet to wet, +Or monarch's hands that let not bounty fall +Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. + +Of folded schedules had she many a one, +Which she perused, sigh'd, tore, and gave the flood; +Crack'd many a ring of posied gold and bone +Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; +Found yet moe letters sadly penn'd in blood, +With sleided silk feat and affectedly +Enswathed, and seal'd to curious secrecy. + +These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, +And often kiss'd, and often 'gan to tear: +Cried 'O false blood, thou register of lies, +What unapproved witness dost thou bear! +Ink would have seem'd more black and damned here!' +This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, +Big discontent so breaking their contents. + +A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh-- +Sometime a blusterer, that the ruffle knew +Of court, of city, and had let go by +The swiftest hours, observed as they flew-- +Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew, +And, privileged by age, desires to know +In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. + +So slides he down upon his grained bat, +And comely-distant sits he by her side; +When he again desires her, being sat, +Her grievance with his hearing to divide: +If that from him there may be aught applied +Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, +'Tis promised in the charity of age. + +'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold +The injury of many a blasting hour, +Let it not tell your judgment I am old; +Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power: +I might as yet have been a spreading flower, +Fresh to myself, If I had self-applied +Love to myself and to no love beside. + +'But, woe is me! too early I attended +A youthful suit--it was to gain my grace-- +Of one by nature's outwards so commended, +That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face: +Love lack'd a dwelling, and made him her place; +And when in his fair parts she did abide, +She was new lodged and newly deified. + +'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; +And every light occasion of the wind +Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. +What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: +Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind, +For on his visage was in little drawn +What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. + +'Small show of man was yet upon his chin; +His phoenix down began but to appear +Like unshorn velvet on that termless skin +Whose bare out-bragg'd the web it seem'd to wear: +Yet show'd his visage by that cost more dear; +And nice affections wavering stood in doubt +If best were as it was, or best without. + +'His qualities were beauteous as his form, +For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; +Yet, if men moved him, was he such a storm +As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, +When winds breathe sweet, untidy though they be. +His rudeness so with his authorized youth +Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. + +'Well could he ride, and often men would say +'That horse his mettle from his rider takes: +Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, +What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop +he makes!' +And controversy hence a question takes, +Whether the horse by him became his deed, +Or he his manage by the well-doing steed. + +'But quickly on this side the verdict went: +His real habitude gave life and grace +To appertainings and to ornament, +Accomplish'd in himself, not in his case: +All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, +Came for additions; yet their purposed trim +Pieced not his grace, but were all graced by him. + +'So on the tip of his subduing tongue +All kinds of arguments and question deep, +All replication prompt, and reason strong, +For his advantage still did wake and sleep: +To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, +He had the dialect and different skill, +Catching all passions in his craft of will: + +'That he did in the general bosom reign +Of young, of old; and sexes both enchanted, +To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain +In personal duty, following where he haunted: +Consents bewitch'd, ere he desire, have granted; +And dialogued for him what he would say, +Ask'd their own wills, and made their wills obey. + +'Many there were that did his picture get, +To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; +Like fools that in th' imagination set +The goodly objects which abroad they find +Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assign'd; +And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them +Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them: + +'So many have, that never touch'd his hand, +Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart. +My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, +And was my own fee-simple, not in part, +What with his art in youth, and youth in art, +Threw my affections in his charmed power, +Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower. + +'Yet did I not, as some my equals did, +Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; +Finding myself in honour so forbid, +With safest distance I mine honour shielded: +Experience for me many bulwarks builded +Of proofs new-bleeding, which remain'd the foil +Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. + +'But, ah, who ever shunn'd by precedent +The destined ill she must herself assay? +Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content, +To put the by-past perils in her way? +Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; +For when we rage, advice is often seen +By blunting us to make our wits more keen. + +'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood, +That we must curb it upon others' proof; +To be forbod the sweets that seem so good, +For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. +O appetite, from judgment stand aloof! +The one a palate hath that needs will taste, +Though Reason weep, and cry, 'It is thy last.' + +'For further I could say 'This man's untrue,' +And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; +Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew, +Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; +Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; +Thought characters and words merely but art, +And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. + +'And long upon these terms I held my city, +Till thus he gan besiege me: 'Gentle maid, +Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, +And be not of my holy vows afraid: +That's to ye sworn to none was ever said; +For feasts of love I have been call'd unto, +Till now did ne'er invite, nor never woo. + +''All my offences that abroad you see +Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; +Love made them not: with acture they may be, +Where neither party is nor true nor kind: +They sought their shame that so their shame did find; +And so much less of shame in me remains, +By how much of me their reproach contains. + +''Among the many that mine eyes have seen, +Not one whose flame my heart so much as warm'd, +Or my affection put to the smallest teen, +Or any of my leisures ever charm'd: +Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harm'd; +Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, +And reign'd, commanding in his monarchy. + +''Look here, what tributes wounded fancies sent me, +Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; +Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me +Of grief and blushes, aptly understood +In bloodless white and the encrimson'd mood; +Effects of terror and dear modesty, +Encamp'd in hearts, but fighting outwardly. + +''And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, +With twisted metal amorously impleach'd, +I have received from many a several fair, +Their kind acceptance weepingly beseech'd, +With the annexions of fair gems enrich'd, +And deep-brain'd sonnets that did amplify +Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality. + +''The diamond,--why, 'twas beautiful and hard, +Whereto his invised properties did tend; +The deep-green emerald, in whose fresh regard +Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; +The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend +With objects manifold: each several stone, +With wit well blazon'd, smiled or made some moan. + +''Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, +Of pensived and subdued desires the tender, +Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, +But yield them up where I myself must render, +That is, to you, my origin and ender; +For these, of force, must your oblations be, +Since I their altar, you enpatron me. + +''O, then, advance of yours that phraseless hand, +Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; +Take all these similes to your own command, +Hallow'd with sighs that burning lungs did raise; +What me your minister, for you obeys, +Works under you; and to your audit comes +Their distract parcels in combined sums. + +''Lo, this device was sent me from a nun, +Or sister sanctified, of holiest note; +Which late her noble suit in court did shun, +Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; +For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, +But kept cold distance, and did thence remove, +To spend her living in eternal love. + +''But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave +The thing we have not, mastering what not strives, +Playing the place which did no form receive, +Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves? +She that her fame so to herself contrives, +The scars of battle 'scapeth by the flight, +And makes her absence valiant, not her might. + +''O, pardon me, in that my boast is true: +The accident which brought me to her eye +Upon the moment did her force subdue, +And now she would the caged cloister fly: +Religious love put out Religion's eye: +Not to be tempted, would she be immured, +And now, to tempt, all liberty procured. + +''How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell! +The broken bosoms that to me belong +Have emptied all their fountains in my well, +And mine I pour your ocean all among: +I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, +Must for your victory us all congest, +As compound love to physic your cold breast. + +''My parts had power to charm a sacred nun, +Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, +Believed her eyes when they to assail begun, +All vows and consecrations giving place: +O most potential love! vow, bond, nor space, +In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, +For thou art all, and all things else are thine. + +''When thou impressest, what are precepts worth +Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, +How coldly those impediments stand forth +Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! +Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, +'gainst shame, +And sweetens, in the suffering pangs it bears, +The aloes of all forces, shocks, and fears. + +''Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, +Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine; +And supplicant their sighs to you extend, +To leave the battery that you make 'gainst mine, +Lending soft audience to my sweet design, +And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath +That shall prefer and undertake my troth.' + +'This said, his watery eyes he did dismount, +Whose sights till then were levell'd on my face; +Each cheek a river running from a fount +With brinish current downward flow'd apace: +O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! +Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses +That flame through water which their hue encloses. + +'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies +In the small orb of one particular tear! +But with the inundation of the eyes +What rocky heart to water will not wear? +What breast so cold that is not warmed here? +O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, +Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. + +'For, lo, his passion, but an art of craft, +Even there resolved my reason into tears; +There my white stole of chastity I daff'd, +Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; +Appear to him, as he to me appears, +All melting; though our drops this difference bore, +His poison'd me, and mine did him restore. + +'In him a plenitude of subtle matter, +Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, +Of burning blushes, or of weeping water, +Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, +In either's aptness, as it best deceives, +To blush at speeches rank to weep at woes, +Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows. + +'That not a heart which in his level came +Could 'scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, +Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; +And, veil'd in them, did win whom he would maim: +Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; +When he most burn'd in heart-wish'd luxury, +He preach'd pure maid, and praised cold chastity. + +'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace +The naked and concealed fiend he cover'd; +That th' unexperient gave the tempter place, +Which like a cherubin above them hover'd. +Who, young and simple, would not be so lover'd? +Ay me! I fell; and yet do question make +What I should do again for such a sake. + +'O, that infected moisture of his eye, +O, that false fire which in his cheek so glow'd, +O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly, +O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestow'd, +O, all that borrow'd motion seeming owed, +Would yet again betray the fore-betray'd, +And new pervert a reconciled maid!' + THE RAPE OF LUCRECE + +TO THE +RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, +Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield. + + +The love I dedicate to your lordship is without end; whereof +this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. +The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth +of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I +have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in +all I have, devoted yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would +show greater; meantime, as it is, it is bound to your lordship, +to whom I wish long life, still lengthened with all happiness. + +Your lordship's in all duty, +WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. + + + + THE RAPE OF LUCRECE + + + THE ARGUMENT + + +Lucius Tarquinius, for his excessive pride surnamed Superbus, +after he had caused his own father-in-law Servius Tullius to be +cruelly murdered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and customs, +not requiring or staying for the people's suffrages, had +possessed himself of the kingdom, went, accompanied with his sons +and other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. During which siege +the principal men of the army meeting one evening at the tent of +Sextus Tarquinius, the king's son, in their discourses after +supper every one commended the virtues of his own wife: among +whom Collatinus extolled the incomparable chastity of his wife +Lucretia. In that pleasant humour they posted to Rome; and +intending, by their secret and sudden arrival, to make trial of +that which every one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds +his wife, though it were late in the night, spinning amongst her +maids: the other ladies were all found dancing and revelling, or +in several disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded Collatinus +the victory, and his wife the fame. At that time Sextus +Tarquinius being inflamed with Lucrece' beauty, yet smothering +his passions for the present, departed with the rest back to the +camp; from whence he shortly after privily withdrew himself, and +was, according to his estate, royally entertained and lodged by +Lucrece at Collatium. The same night he treacherously stealeth +into her chamber, violently ravished her, and early in the +morning speedeth away. Lucrece, in this lamentable plight, +hastily dispatcheth messengers, one to Rome for her father, +another to the camp for Collatine. They came, the one +accompanied with Junius Brutus, the other with Publius Valerius; +and finding Lucrece attired in mourning habit, demanded the cause +of her sorrow. She, first taking an oath of them for her +revenge, revealed the actor, and whole manner of his dealing, and +withal suddenly stabbed herself. Which done, with one consent +they all vowed to root out the whole hated family of the +Tarquins; and bearing the dead body to Rome, Brutus acquainted +the people with the doer and manner of the vile deed, with a +bitter invective against the tyranny of the king: wherewith the +people were so moved, that with one consent and a general +acclamation the Tarquins were all exiled, and the state +government changed from kings to consuls. + + + + THE RAPE OF LUCRECE + + + +FROM the besieged Ardea all in post, +Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, +Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, +And to Collatium bears the lightless fire +Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire +And girdle with embracing flames the waist +Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste. + +Haply that name of 'chaste' unhappily set +This bateless edge on his keen appetite; +When Collatine unwisely did not let +To praise the clear unmatched red and white +Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight, +Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties, +With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. + +For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, +Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state; +What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent +In the possession of his beauteous mate; +Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, +That kings might be espoused to more fame, +But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. + +O happiness enjoy'd but of a few! +And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done +As is the morning's silver-melting dew +Against the golden splendor of the sun! +An expired date, cancell'd ere well begun: +Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, +Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms. + +Beauty itself doth of itself persuade +The eyes of men without an orator; +What needeth then apologies be made, +To set forth that which is so singular? +Or why is Collatine the publisher +Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown +From thievish ears, because it is his own? + +Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty +Suggested this proud issue of a king; +For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: +Perchance that envy of so rich a thing, +Braving compare, disdainfully did sting +His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt +That golden hap which their superiors want. + +But some untimely thought did instigate +His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those: +His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state, +Neglected all, with swift intent he goes +To quench the coal which in his liver glows. +O rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold, +Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows old! + +When at Collatium this false lord arrived, +Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame, +Within whose face beauty and virtue strived +Which of them both should underprop her fame: +When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame; +When beauty boasted blushes, in despite +Virtue would stain that o'er with silver white. + +But beauty, in that white intituled, +From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field: +Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red, +Which virtue gave the golden age to gild +Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield; +Teaching them thus to use it in the fight, +When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white. + +This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen, +Argued by beauty's red and virtue's white +Of either's colour was the other queen, +Proving from world's minority their right: +Yet their ambition makes them still to fight; +The sovereignty of either being so great, +That oft they interchange each other's seat. + +Their silent war of lilies and of roses, +Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, +In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses; +Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd, +The coward captive vanquished doth yield +To those two armies that would let him go, +Rather than triumph in so false a foe. + +Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue,-- +The niggard prodigal that praised her so,-- +In that high task hath done her beauty wrong, +Which far exceeds his barren skill to show: +Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe +Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, +In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. + +This earthly saint, adored by this devil, +Little suspecteth the false worshipper; +For unstain'd thoughts do seldom dream on evil; +Birds never limed no secret bushes fear: +So guiltless she securely gives good cheer +And reverend welcome to her princely guest, +Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd: + +For that he colour'd with his high estate, +Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty; +That nothing in him seem'd inordinate, +Save something too much wonder of his eye, +Which, having all, all could not satisfy; +But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, +That, cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more. + +But she, that never coped with stranger eyes, +Could pick no meaning from their parling looks, +Nor read the subtle-shining secrecies +Writ in the glassy margents of such books: +She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks; +Nor could she moralize his wanton sight, +More than his eyes were open'd to the light. + +He stories to her ears her husband's fame, +Won in the fields of fruitful Italy; +And decks with praises Collatine's high name, +Made glorious by his manly chivalry +With bruised arms and wreaths of victory: +Her joy with heaved-up hand she doth express, +And, wordless, so greets heaven for his success. + +Far from the purpose of his coming hither, +He makes excuses for his being there: +No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather +Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear; +Till sable Night, mother of Dread and Fear, +Upon the world dim darkness doth display, +And in her vaulty prison stows the Day. + +For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed, +Intending weariness with heavy spright; +For, after supper, long he questioned +With modest Lucrece, and wore out the night: +Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight; +And every one to rest themselves betake, +Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds, that wake. + +As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving +The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining; +Yet ever to obtain his will resolving, +Though weak-built hopes persuade him to abstaining: +Despair to gain doth traffic oft for gaining; +And when great treasure is the meed proposed, +Though death be adjunct, there's no death supposed. + +Those that much covet are with gain so fond, +For what they have not, that which they possess +They scatter and unloose it from their bond, +And so, by hoping more, they have but less; +Or, gaining more, the profit of excess +Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, +That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain. + +The aim of all is but to nurse the life +With honour, wealth, and ease, in waning age; +And in this aim there is such thwarting strife, +That one for all, or all for one we gage; +As life for honour in fell battle's rage; +Honour for wealth; and oft that wealth doth cost +The death of all, and all together lost. + +So that in venturing ill we leave to be +The things we are for that which we expect; +And this ambitious foul infirmity, +In having much, torments us with defect +Of that we have: so then we do neglect +The thing we have; and, all for want of wit, +Make something nothing by augmenting it. + +Such hazard now must doting Tarquin make, +Pawning his honour to obtain his lust; +And for himself himself be must forsake: +Then where is truth, if there be no self-trust? +When shall he think to find a stranger just, +When he himself himself confounds, betrays +To slanderous tongues and wretched hateful days? + +Now stole upon the time the dead of night, +When heavy sleep had closed up mortal eyes: +No comfortable star did lend his light, +No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries; +Now serves the season that they may surprise +The silly lambs: pure thoughts are dead and still, +While lust and murder wake to stain and kill. + +And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed, +Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; +Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; +Th' one sweetly flatters, th' other feareth harm; +But honest fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charm, +Doth too too oft betake him to retire, +Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. + +His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, +That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; +Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, +Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; +And to the flame thus speaks advisedly, +'As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, +So Lucrece must I force to my desire.' + +Here pale with fear he doth premeditate +The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, +And in his inward mind he doth debate +What following sorrow may on this arise: +Then looking scornfully, he doth despise +His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust, +And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust: + +'Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not +To darken her whose light excelleth thine: +And die, unhallow'd thoughts, before you blot +With your uncleanness that which is divine; +Offer pure incense to so pure a shrine: +Let fair humanity abhor the deed +That spots and stains love's modest snow-white weed. + +'O shame to knighthood and to shining arms! +O foul dishonour to my household's grave! +O impious act, including all foul harms! +A martial man to be soft fancy's slave! +True valour still a true respect should have; +Then my digression is so vile, so base, +That it will live engraven in my face. + +'Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive, +And be an eye-sore in my golden coat; +Some loathsome dash the herald will contrive, +To cipher me how fondly I did dote; +That my posterity, shamed with the note +Shall curse my bones, and hold it for no sin +To wish that I their father had not bin. + +'What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? +A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. +Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? +Or sells eternity to get a toy? +For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? +Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, +Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down? + +'If Collatinus dream of my intent, +Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage +Post hither, this vile purpose to prevent? +This siege that hath engirt his marriage, +This blur to youth, this sorrow to the sage, +This dying virtue, this surviving shame, +Whose crime will bear an ever-during blame? + +'O, what excuse can my invention make, +When thou shalt charge me with so black a deed? +Will not my tongue be mute, my frail joints shake, +Mine eyes forego their light, my false heart bleed? +The guilt being great, the fear doth still exceed; +And extreme fear can neither fight nor fly, +But coward-like with trembling terror die. + + +'Had Collatinus kill'd my son or sire, +Or lain in ambush to betray my life, +Or were he not my dear friend, this desire +Might have excuse to work upon his wife, +As in revenge or quittal of such strife: +But as he is my kinsman, my dear friend, +The shame and fault finds no excuse nor end. + +'Shameful it is; ay, if the fact be known: +Hateful it is; there is no hate in loving: +I'll beg her love; but she is own: +The worst is but denial and reproving: +My will is strong, past reason's weak removing. +Who fears a sentence or an old man's saw +Shall by a painted cloth be kept in awe.' + +Thus, graceless, holds he disputation +'Tween frozen conscience and hot-burning will, +And with good thoughts make dispensation, +Urging the worser sense for vantage still; +Which in a moment doth confound and kill +All pure effects, and doth so far proceed, +That what is vile shows like a virtuous deed. + +Quoth he, 'She took me kindly by the hand, +And gazed for tidings in my eager eyes, +Fearing some hard news from the warlike band, +Where her beloved Collatinus lies. +O, how her fear did make her colour rise! +First red as roses that on lawn we lay, +Then white as lawn, the roses took away. + +'And how her hand, in my hand being lock'd +Forced it to tremble with her loyal fear! +Which struck her sad, and then it faster rock'd, +Until her husband's welfare she did hear; +Whereat she smiled with so sweet a cheer, +That had Narcissus seen her as she stood, +Self-love had never drown'd him in the flood. + +'Why hunt I then for colour or excuses? +All orators are dumb when beauty pleadeth; +Poor wretches have remorse in poor abuses; +Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth: +Affection is my captain, and he leadeth; +And when his gaudy banner is display'd, +The coward fights and will not be dismay'd. + +'Then, childish fear, avaunt! debating, die! +Respect and reason, wait on wrinkled age! +My heart shall never countermand mine eye: +Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage; +My part is youth, and beats these from the stage: +Desire my pilot is, beauty my prize; +Then who fears sinking where such treasure lies?' + +As corn o'ergrown by weeds, so heedful fear +Is almost choked by unresisted lust. +Away he steals with open listening ear, +Full of foul hope and full of fond mistrust; +Both which, as servitors to the unjust, +So cross him with their opposite persuasion, +That now he vows a league, and now invasion. + +Within his thought her heavenly image sits, +And in the self-same seat sits Collatine: +That eye which looks on her confounds his wits; +That eye which him beholds, as more divine, +Unto a view so false will not incline; +But with a pure appeal seeks to the heart, +Which once corrupted takes the worser part; + +And therein heartens up his servile powers, +Who, flatter'd by their leader's jocund show, +Stuff up his lust, as minutes fill up hours; +And as their captain, so their pride doth grow, +Paying more slavish tribute than they owe. +By reprobate desire thus madly led, +The Roman lord marcheth to Lucrece' bed. + +The locks between her chamber and his will, +Each one by him enforced, retires his ward; +But, as they open, they all rate his ill, +Which drives the creeping thief to some regard: +The threshold grates the door to have him heard; +Night-wandering weasels shriek to see him there; +They fright him, yet he still pursues his fear. + +As each unwilling portal yields him way, +Through little vents and crannies of the place +The wind wars with his torch to make him stay, +And blows the smoke of it into his face, +Extinguishing his conduct in this case; +But his hot heart, which fond desire doth scorch, +Puffs forth another wind that fires the torch: + +And being lighted, by the light he spies +Lucretia's glove, wherein her needle sticks: +He takes it from the rushes where it lies, +And griping it, the needle his finger pricks; +As who should say 'This glove to wanton tricks +Is not inured; return again in haste; +Thou see'st our mistress' ornaments are chaste.' + +But all these poor forbiddings could not stay him; +He in the worst sense construes their denial: +The doors, the wind, the glove, that did delay him, +He takes for accidental things of trial; +Or as those bars which stop the hourly dial, +Who with a lingering slay his course doth let, +Till every minute pays the hour his debt. + +'So, so,' quoth he, 'these lets attend the time, +Like little frosts that sometime threat the spring, +To add a more rejoicing to the prime, +And give the sneaped birds more cause to sing. +Pain pays the income of each precious thing; +Huge rocks, high winds, strong pirates, shelves and sands, +The merchant fears, ere rich at home he lands.' + +Now is he come unto the chamber-door, +That shuts him from the heaven of his thought, +Which with a yielding latch, and with no more, +Hath barr'd him from the blessed thing be sought. +So from himself impiety hath wrought, +That for his prey to pray he doth begin, +As if the heavens should countenance his sin. + +But in the midst of his unfruitful prayer, +Having solicited th' eternal power +That his foul thoughts might compass his fair fair, +And they would stand auspicious to the hour, +Even there he starts: quoth he, 'I must deflower: +The powers to whom I pray abhor this fact, +How can they then assist me in the act? + +'Then Love and Fortune be my gods, my guide! +My will is back'd with resolution: +Thoughts are but dreams till their effects be tried; +The blackest sin is clear'd with absolution; +Against love's fire fear's frost hath dissolution. +The eye of heaven is out, and misty night +Covers the shame that follows sweet delight.' + +This said, his guilty hand pluck'd up the latch, +And with his knee the door he opens wide. +The dove sleeps fast that this night-owl will catch: +Thus treason works ere traitors be espied. +Who sees the lurking serpent steps aside; +But she, sound sleeping, fearing no such thing, +Lies at the mercy of his mortal sting. + +Into the chamber wickedly he stalks, +And gazeth on her yet unstained bed. +The curtains being close, about he walks, +Rolling his greedy eyeballs in his head: +By their high treason is his heart misled; +Which gives the watch-word to his hand full soon +To draw the cloud that hides the silver moon. + +Look, as the fair and fiery-pointed sun, +Rushing from forth a cloud, bereaves our sight; +Even so, the curtain drawn, his eyes begun +To wink, being blinded with a greater light: +Whether it is that she reflects so bright, +That dazzleth them, or else some shame supposed; +But blind they are, and keep themselves enclosed. + +O, had they in that darksome prison died! +Then had they seen the period of their ill; +Then Collatine again, by Lucrece' side, +In his clear bed might have reposed still: +But they must ope, this blessed league to kill; +And holy-thoughted Lucrece to their sight +Must sell her joy, her life, her world's delight. + +Her lily hand her rosy cheek lies under, +Cozening the pillow of a lawful kiss; +Who, therefore angry, seems to part in sunder, +Swelling on either side to want his bliss; +Between whose hills her head entombed is: +Where, like a virtuous monument, she lies, +To be admired of lewd unhallow'd eyes. + +Without the bed her other fair hand was, +On the green coverlet; whose perfect white +Show'd like an April daisy on the grass, +With pearly sweat, resembling dew of night. +Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light, +And canopied in darkness sweetly lay, +Till they might open to adorn the day. + +Her hair, like golden threads, play'd with her breath; +O modest wantons! wanton modesty! +Showing life's triumph in the map of death, +And death's dim look in life's mortality: +Each in her sleep themselves so beautify, +As if between them twain there were no strife, +But that life lived in death, and death in life. + +Her breasts, like ivory globes circled with blue, +A pair of maiden worlds unconquered, +Save of their lord no bearing yoke they knew, +And him by oath they truly honoured. +These worlds in Tarquin new ambition bred; +Who, like a foul ursurper, went about +From this fair throne to heave the owner out. + +What could he see but mightily he noted? +What did he note but strongly he desired? +What he beheld, on that he firmly doted, +And in his will his wilful eye he tired. +With more than admiration he admired +Her azure veins, her alabaster skin, +Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. + +As the grim lion fawneth o'er his prey, +Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied, +So o'er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay, +His rage of lust by gazing qualified; +Slack'd, not suppress'd; for standing by her side, +His eye, which late this mutiny restrains, +Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins: + +And they, like straggling slaves for pillage fighting, +Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting, +In bloody death and ravishment delighting, +Nor children's tears nor mothers' groans respecting, +Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting: +Anon his beating heart, alarum striking, +Gives the hot charge and bids them do their liking. + +His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, +His eye commends the leading to his hand; +His hand, as proud of such a dignity, +Smoking with pride, march'd on to make his stand +On her bare breast, the heart of all her land; +Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale, +Left there round turrets destitute and pale. + +They, mustering to the quiet cabinet +Where their dear governess and lady lies, +Do tell her she is dreadfully beset, +And fright her with confusion of their cries: +She, much amazed, breaks ope her lock'd-up eyes, +Who, peeping forth this tumult to behold, +Are by his flaming torch dimm'd and controll'd. + +Imagine her as one in dead of night +From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, +That thinks she hath beheld some ghastly sprite, +Whose grim aspect sets every joint a-shaking; +What terror or 'tis! but she, in worser taking, +From sleep disturbed, heedfully doth view +The sight which makes supposed terror true. + +Wrapp'd and confounded in a thousand fears, +Like to a new-kill'd bird she trembling lies; +She dares not look; yet, winking, there appears +Quick-shifting antics, ugly in her eyes: +Such shadows are the weak brain's forgeries; +Who, angry that the eyes fly from their lights, +In darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights. + +His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,-- +Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!-- +May feel her heart-poor citizen!--distress'd, +Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall, +Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal. +This moves in him more rage and lesser pity, +To make the breach and enter this sweet city. + +First, like a trumpet, doth his tongue begin +To sound a parley to his heartless foe; +Who o'er the white sheet peers her whiter chin, +The reason of this rash alarm to know, +Which he by dumb demeanor seeks to show; +But she with vehement prayers urgeth still +Under what colour he commits this ill. + +Thus he replies: 'The colour in thy face, +That even for anger makes the lily pale, +And the red rose blush at her own disgrace, +Shall plead for me and tell my loving tale: +Under that colour am I come to scale +Thy never-conquer'd fort: the fault is thine, +For those thine eyes betray thee unto mine. + +'Thus I forestall thee, if thou mean to chide: +Thy beauty hath ensnared thee to this night, +Where thou with patience must my will abide; +My will that marks thee for my earth's delight, +Which I to conquer sought with all my might; +But as reproof and reason beat it dead, +By thy bright beauty was it newly bred. + +'I see what crosses my attempt will bring; +I know what thorns the growing rose defends; +I think the honey guarded with a sting; +All this beforehand counsel comprehends: +But will is deaf and hears no heedful friends; +Only he hath an eye to gaze on beauty, +And dotes on what he looks, 'gainst law or duty. + +'I have debated, even in my soul, +What wrong, what shame, what sorrow I shall breed; +But nothing can affection's course control, +Or stop the headlong fury of his speed. +I know repentant tears ensue the deed, +Reproach, disdain, and deadly enmity; +Yet strive I to embrace mine infamy.' + +This said, he shakes aloft his Roman blade, +Which, like a falcon towering in the skies, +Coucheth the fowl below with his wings' shade, +Whose crooked beak threats if he mount he dies: +So under his insulting falchion lies +Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells +With trembling fear, as fowl hear falcon's bells. + +'Lucrece,' quoth he,'this night I must enjoy thee: +If thou deny, then force must work my way, +For in thy bed I purpose to destroy thee: +That done, some worthless slave of thine I'll slay, +To kill thine honour with thy life's decay; +And in thy dead arms do I mean to place him, +Swearing I slew him, seeing thee embrace him. + +'So thy surviving husband shall remain +The scornful mark of every open eye; +Thy kinsmen hang their heads at this disdain, +Thy issue blurr'd with nameless bastardy: +And thou, the author of their obloquy, +Shalt have thy trespass cited up in rhymes, +And sung by children in succeeding times. + +'But if thou yield, I rest thy secret friend: +The fault unknown is as a thought unacted; +A little harm done to a great good end +For lawful policy remains enacted. +The poisonous simple sometimes is compacted +In a pure compound; being so applied, +His venom in effect is purified. + +'Then, for thy husband and thy children's sake, +Tender my suit: bequeath not to their lot +The shame that from them no device can take, +The blemish that will never be forgot; +Worse than a slavish wipe or birth-hour's blot: +For marks descried in men's nativity +Are nature's faults, not their own infamy.' + +Here with a cockatrice' dead-killing eye +He rouseth up himself and makes a pause; +While she, the picture of pure piety, +Like a white hind under the gripe's sharp claws, +Pleads, in a wilderness where are no laws, +To the rough beast that knows no gentle right, +Nor aught obeys but his foul appetite. + +But when a black-faced cloud the world doth threat, +In his dim mist the aspiring mountains hiding, +From earth's dark womb some gentle gust doth get, +Which blows these pitchy vapours from their bidding, +Hindering their present fall by this dividing; +So his unhallow'd haste her words delays, +And moody Pluto winks while Orpheus plays. + +Yet, foul night-waking cat, he doth but dally, +While in his hold-fast foot the weak mouse panteth: +Her sad behavior feeds his vulture folly, +A swallowing gulf that even in plenty wanteth: +His ear her prayers admits, but his heart granteth +No penetrable entrance to her plaining: +Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining. + +Her pity-pleading eyes are sadly fix'd +In the remorseless wrinkles of his face; +Her modest eloquence with sighs is mix'd, +Which to her oratory adds more grace. +She puts the period often from his place; +And midst the sentence so her accent breaks, +That twice she doth begin ere once she speaks. + +She conjures him by high almighty Jove, +By knighthood, gentry, and sweet friendship's oath, +By her untimely tears, her husband's love, +By holy human law, and common troth, +By heaven and earth, and all the power of both, +That to his borrow'd bed he make retire, +And stoop to honour, not to foul desire. + +Quoth she, 'Reward not hospitality +With such black payment as thou hast pretended; +Mud not the fountain that gave drink to thee; +Mar not the thing that cannot be amended; +End thy ill aim before thy shoot be ended; +He is no woodman that doth bend his bow +To strike a poor unseasonable doe. + +'My husband is thy friend; for his sake spare me: +Thyself art mighty; for thine own sake leave me: +Myself a weakling; do not then ensnare me: +Thou look'st not like deceit; do not deceive me. +My sighs, like whirlwinds, labour hence to heave thee: +If ever man were moved with woman moans, +Be moved with my tears, my sighs, my groans: + +'All which together, like a troubled ocean, +Beat at thy rocky and wreck-threatening heart, +To soften it with their continual motion; +For stones dissolved to water do convert. +O, if no harder than a stone thou art, +Melt at my tears, and be compassionate! +Soft pity enters at an iron gate. + +'In Tarquin's likeness I did entertain thee: +Hast thou put on his shape to do him shame? +To all the host of heaven I complain me, +Thou wrong'st his honour, wound'st his princely name. +Thou art not what thou seem'st; and if the same, +Thou seem'st not what thou art, a god, a king; +For kings like gods should govern everything. + +'How will thy shame be seeded in thine age, +When thus thy vices bud before thy spring! +If in thy hope thou darest do such outrage, +What darest thou not when once thou art a king? +O, be remember'd, no outrageous thing +From vassal actors can be wiped away; +Then kings' misdeeds cannot be hid in clay. + +'This deed will make thee only loved for fear; +But happy monarchs still are fear'd for love: +With foul offenders thou perforce must bear, +When they in thee the like offences prove: +If but for fear of this, thy will remove; +For princes are the glass, the school, the book, +Where subjects' eyes do learn, do read, do look. + +'And wilt thou be the school where Lust shall learn? +Must he in thee read lectures of such shame? +Wilt thou be glass wherein it shall discern +Authority for sin, warrant for blame, +To privilege dishonour in thy name? +Thou black'st reproach against long-living laud, +And makest fair reputation but a bawd. + +'Hast thou command? by him that gave it thee, +From a pure heart command thy rebel will: +Draw not thy sword to guard iniquity, +For it was lent thee all that brood to kill. +Thy princely office how canst thou fulfil, +When, pattern'd by thy fault, foul sin may say, +He learn'd to sin, and thou didst teach the way? + +'Think but how vile a spectacle it were, +To view thy present trespass in another. +Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear; +Their own transgressions partially they smother: +This guilt would seem death-worthy in thy brother. +O, how are they wrapp'd in with infamies +That from their own misdeeds askance their eyes! + +'To thee, to thee, my heaved-up hands appeal, +Not to seducing lust, thy rash relier: +I sue for exiled majesty's repeal; +Let him return, and flattering thoughts retire: +His true respect will prison false desire, +And wipe the dim mist from thy doting eyne, +That thou shalt see thy state and pity mine.' + +'Have done,' quoth he: 'my uncontrolled tide +Turns not, but swells the higher by this let. +Small lights are soon blown out, huge fires abide, +And with the wind in greater fury fret: +The petty streams that pay a daily debt +To their salt sovereign, with their fresh falls' haste +Add to his flow, but alter not his taste.' + +'Thou art,' quoth she, 'a sea, a sovereign king; +And, lo, there falls into thy boundless flood +Black lust, dishonour, shame, misgoverning, +Who seek to stain the ocean of thy blood. +If all these pretty ills shall change thy good, +Thy sea within a puddle's womb is hearsed, +And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed. + +'So shall these slaves be king, and thou their slave; +Thou nobly base, they basely dignified; +Thou their fair life, and they thy fouler grave: +Thou loathed in their shame, they in thy pride: +The lesser thing should not the greater hide; +The cedar stoops not to the base shrub's foot, +But low shrubs wither at the cedar's root. + +'So let thy thoughts, low vassals to thy state'-- +No more,' quoth he; 'by heaven, I will not hear thee: +Yield to my love; if not, enforced hate, +Instead of love's coy touch, shall rudely tear thee; +That done, despitefully I mean to bear thee +Unto the base bed of some rascal groom, +To be thy partner in this shameful doom.' + +This said, he sets his foot upon the light, +For light and lust are deadly enemies: +Shame folded up in blind concealing night, +When most unseen, then most doth tyrannize. +The wolf hath seized his prey, the poor lamb cries; +Till with her own white fleece her voice controll'd +Entombs her outcry in her lips' sweet fold: + +For with the nightly linen that she wears +He pens her piteous clamours in her head; +Cooling his hot face in the chastest tears +That ever modest eyes with sorrow shed. +O, that prone lust should stain so pure a bed! +The spots whereof could weeping purify, +Her tears should drop on them perpetually. + +But she hath lost a dearer thing than life, +And he hath won what he would lose again: +This forced league doth force a further strife; +This momentary joy breeds months of pain; +This hot desire converts to cold disdain: +Pure Chastity is rifled of her store, +And Lust, the thief, far poorer than before. + +Look, as the full-fed hound or gorged hawk, +Unapt for tender smell or speedy flight, +Make slow pursuit, or altogether balk +The prey wherein by nature they delight; +So surfeit-taking Tarquin fares this night: +His taste delicious, in digestion souring, +Devours his will, that lived by foul devouring. + +O, deeper sin than bottomless conceit +Can comprehend in still imagination! +Drunken Desire must vomit his receipt, +Ere he can see his own abomination. +While Lust is in his pride, no exclamation +Can curb his heat or rein his rash desire, +Till like a jade Self-will himself doth tire. + +And then with lank and lean discolour'd cheek, +With heavy eye, knit brow, and strengthless pace, +Feeble Desire, all recreant, poor, and meek, +Like to a bankrupt beggar wails his case: +The flesh being proud, Desire doth fight with Grace, +For there it revels; and when that decays, +The guilty rebel for remission prays. + +So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome, +Who this accomplishment so hotly chased; +For now against himself he sounds this doom, +That through the length of times he stands disgraced: +Besides, his soul's fair temple is defaced; +To whose weak ruins muster troops of cares, +To ask the spotted princess how she fares. + +She says, her subjects with foul insurrection +Have batter'd down her consecrated wall, +And by their mortal fault brought in subjection +Her immortality, and made her thrall +To living death and pain perpetual: +Which in her prescience she controlled still, +But her foresight could not forestall their will. + +Even in this thought through the dark night he stealeth, +A captive victor that hath lost in gain; +Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth, +The scar that will, despite of cure, remain; +Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain. +She bears the load of lust he left behind, +And he the burden of a guilty mind. + +He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence; +She like a wearied lamb lies panting there; +He scowls and hates himself for his offence; +She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear; +He faintly flies, sneaking with guilty fear; +She stays, exclaiming on the direful night; +He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loathed delight. + +He thence departs a heavy convertite; +She there remains a hopeless castaway; +He in his speed looks for the morning light; +She prays she never may behold the day, +'For day,' quoth she, 'nights scapes doth open lay, +And my true eyes have never practised how +To cloak offences with a cunning brow. + +'They think not but that every eye can see +The same disgrace which they themselves behold; +And therefore would they still in darkness be, +To have their unseen sin remain untold; +For they their guilt with weeping will unfold, +And grave, like water that doth eat in steel, +Upon my cheeks what helpless shame I feel.' + +Here she exclaims against repose and rest, +And bids her eyes hereafter still be blind. +She wakes her heart by beating on her breast, +And bids it leap from thence, where it may find +Some purer chest to close so pure a mind. +Frantic with grief thus breathes she forth her spite +Against the unseen secrecy of night: + +'O comfort-killing Night, image of hell! +Dim register and notary of shame! +Black stage for tragedies and murders fell! +Vast sin-concealing chaos! nurse of blame! +Blind muffled bawd! dark harbour for defame! +Grim cave of death! whispering conspirator +With close-tongued treason and the ravisher! + +'O hateful, vaporous, and foggy Night! +Since thou art guilty of my cureless crime, +Muster thy mists to meet the eastern light, +Make war against proportion'd course of time; +Or if thou wilt permit the sun to climb +His wonted height, yet ere he go to bed, +Knit poisonous clouds about his golden head. + +'With rotten damps ravish the morning air; +Let their exhaled unwholesome breaths make sick +The life of purity, the supreme fair, +Ere he arrive his weary noon-tide prick; +And let thy misty vapours march so thick, +That in their smoky ranks his smother'd light +May set at noon and make perpetual night. + +'Were Tarquin Night, as he is but Night's child, +The silver-shining queen he would distain; +Her twinkling handmaids too, by him defiled, +Through Night's black bosom should not peep again: +So should I have co-partners in my pain; +And fellowship in woe doth woe assuage, +As palmers' chat makes short their pilgrimage. + +'Where now I have no one to blush with me, +To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine, +To mask their brows and hide their infamy; +But I alone alone must sit and pine, +Seasoning the earth with showers of silver brine, +Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans, +Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans. + +'O Night, thou furnace of foul-reeking smoke, +Let not the jealous Day behold that face +Which underneath thy black all-hiding cloak +Immodestly lies martyr'd with disgrace! +Keep still possession of thy gloomy place, +That all the faults which in thy reign are made +May likewise be sepulchred in thy shade! + +'Make me not object to the tell-tale Day! +The light will show, character'd in my brow, +The story of sweet chastity's decay, +The impious breach of holy wedlock vow: +Yea the illiterate, that know not how +To cipher what is writ in learned books, +Will quote my loathsome trespass in my looks. + +'The nurse, to still her child, will tell my story, +And fright her crying babe with Tarquin's name; +The orator, to deck his oratory, +Will couple my reproach to Tarquin's shame; +Feast-finding minstrels, tuning my defame, +Will tie the hearers to attend each line, +How Tarquin wronged me, I Collatine. + +'Let my good name, that senseless reputation, +For Collatine's dear love be kept unspotted: +If that be made a theme for disputation, +The branches of another root are rotted, +And undeserved reproach to him allotted +That is as clear from this attaint of mine +As I, ere this, was pure to Collatine. + +'O unseen shame! invisible disgrace! +O unfelt sore! crest-wounding, private scar! +Reproach is stamp'd in Collatinus' face, +And Tarquin's eye may read the mot afar, +How he in peace is wounded, not in war. +Alas, how many bear such shameful blows, +Which not themselves, but he that gives them knows! + +'If, Collatine, thine honour lay in me, +From me by strong assault it is bereft. +My honour lost, and I, a drone-like bee, +Have no perfection of my summer left, +But robb'd and ransack'd by injurious theft: +In thy weak hive a wandering wasp hath crept, +And suck'd the honey which thy chaste bee kept. + +'Yet am I guilty of thy honour's wrack; +Yet for thy honour did I entertain him; +Coming from thee, I could not put him back, +For it had been dishonour to disdain him: +Besides, of weariness he did complain him, +And talk'd of virtue: O unlook'd-for evil, +When virtue is profaned in such a devil! + +'Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud? +Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests? +Or toads infect fair founts with venom mud? +Or tyrant folly lurk in gentle breasts? +Or kings be breakers of their own behests? +But no perfection is so absolute, +That some impurity doth not pollute. + +'The aged man that coffers-up his gold +Is plagued with cramps and gouts and painful fits; +And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, +But like still-pining Tantalus he sits, +And useless barns the harvest of his wits; +Having no other pleasure of his gain +But torment that it cannot cure his pain. + +'So then he hath it when he cannot use it, +And leaves it to be master'd by his young; +Who in their pride do presently abuse it: +Their father was too weak, and they too strong, +To hold their cursed-blessed fortune long. +The sweets we wish for turn to loathed sours +Even in the moment that we call them ours. + +'Unruly blasts wait on the tender spring; +Unwholesome weeds take root with precious flowers; +The adder hisses where the sweet birds sing; +What virtue breeds iniquity devours: +We have no good that we can say is ours, +But ill-annexed Opportunity +Or kills his life or else his quality. + +'O Opportunity, thy guilt is great! +'Tis thou that executest the traitor's treason: +Thou set'st the wolf where he the lamb may get; +Whoever plots the sin, thou 'point'st the season; +'Tis thou that spurn'st at right, at law, at reason; +And in thy shady cell, where none may spy him, +Sits Sin, to seize the souls that wander by him. + +'Thou makest the vestal violate her oath; +Thou blow'st the fire when temperance is thaw'd; +Thou smother'st honesty, thou murder'st troth; +Thou foul abettor! thou notorious bawd! +Thou plantest scandal and displacest laud: +Thou ravisher, thou traitor, thou false thief, +Thy honey turns to gall, thy joy to grief! + +'Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame, +Thy private feasting to a public fast, +Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name, +Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter wormwood taste: +Thy violent vanities can never last. +How comes it then, vile Opportunity, +Being so bad, such numbers seek for thee? + +'When wilt thou be the humble suppliant's friend, +And bring him where his suit may be obtain'd? +When wilt thou sort an hour great strifes to end? +Or free that soul which wretchedness hath chain'd? +Give physic to the sick, ease to the pain'd? +The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee; +But they ne'er meet with Opportunity. + +'The patient dies while the physician sleeps; +The orphan pines while the oppressor feeds; +Justice is feasting while the widow weeps; +Advice is sporting while infection breeds: +Thou grant'st no time for charitable deeds: +Wrath, envy, treason, rape, and murder's rages, +Thy heinous hours wait on them as their pages. + +'When Truth and Virtue have to do with thee, +A thousand crosses keep them from thy aid: +They buy thy help; but Sin ne'er gives a fee, +He gratis comes; and thou art well appaid +As well to hear as grant what he hath said. +My Collatine would else have come to me +When Tarquin did, but he was stay'd by thee. + +Guilty thou art of murder and of theft, +Guilty of perjury and subornation, +Guilty of treason, forgery, and shift, +Guilty of incest, that abomination; +An accessary by thine inclination +To all sins past, and all that are to come, +From the creation to the general doom. + +'Mis-shapen Time, copesmate of ugly Night, +Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care, +Eater of youth, false slave to false delight, +Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, virtue's snare; +Thou nursest all and murder'st all that are: +O, hear me then, injurious, shifting Time! +Be guilty of my death, since of my crime. + +'Why hath thy servant, Opportunity, +Betray'd the hours thou gavest me to repose, +Cancell'd my fortunes, and enchained me +To endless date of never-ending woes? +Time's office is to fine the hate of foes; +To eat up errors by opinion bred, +Not spend the dowry of a lawful bed. + +'Time's glory is to calm contending kings, +To unmask falsehood and bring truth to light, +To stamp the seal of time in aged things, +To wake the morn and sentinel the night, +To wrong the wronger till he render right, +To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours, +And smear with dust their glittering golden towers; + +'To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, +To feed oblivion with decay of things, +To blot old books and alter their contents, +To pluck the quills from ancient ravens' wings, +To dry the old oak's sap and cherish springs, +To spoil antiquities of hammer'd steel, +And turn the giddy round of Fortune's wheel; + +'To show the beldam daughters of her daughter, +To make the child a man, the man a child, +To slay the tiger that doth live by slaughter, +To tame the unicorn and lion wild, +To mock the subtle in themselves beguiled, +To cheer the ploughman with increaseful crops, +And waste huge stones with little water drops. + +'Why work'st thou mischief in thy pilgrimage, +Unless thou couldst return to make amends? +One poor retiring minute in an age +Would purchase thee a thousand thousand friends, +Lending him wit that to bad debtors lends: +O, this dread night, wouldst thou one hour come back, +I could prevent this storm and shun thy wrack! + +'Thou ceaseless lackey to eternity, +With some mischance cross Tarquin in his flight: +Devise extremes beyond extremity, +To make him curse this cursed crimeful night: +Let ghastly shadows his lewd eyes affright; +And the dire thought of his committed evil +Shape every bush a hideous shapeless devil. + +'Disturb his hours of rest with restless trances, +Afflict him in his bed with bedrid groans; +Let there bechance him pitiful mischances, +To make him moan; but pity not his moans: +Stone him with harden'd hearts harder than stones; +And let mild women to him lose their mildness, +Wilder to him than tigers in their wildness. + +'Let him have time to tear his curled hair, +Let him have time against himself to rave, +Let him have time of Time's help to despair, +Let him have time to live a loathed slave, +Let him have time a beggar's orts to crave, +And time to see one that by alms doth live +Disdain to him disdained scraps to give. + +'Let him have time to see his friends his foes, +And merry fools to mock at him resort; +Let him have time to mark how slow time goes +In time of sorrow, and how swift and short +His time of folly and his time of sport; +And ever let his unrecalling crime +Have time to wail th' abusing of his time. + +'O Time, thou tutor both to good and bad, +Teach me to curse him that thou taught'st this ill! +At his own shadow let the thief run mad, +Himself himself seek every hour to kill! +Such wretched hands such wretched blood should spill; +For who so base would such an office have +As slanderous death's-man to so base a slave? + +'The baser is he, coming from a king, +To shame his hope with deeds degenerate: +The mightier man, the mightier is the thing +That makes him honour'd, or begets him hate; +For greatest scandal waits on greatest state. +The moon being clouded presently is miss'd, +But little stars may hide them when they list. + +'The crow may bathe his coal-black wings in mire, +And unperceived fly with the filth away; +But if the like the snow-white swan desire, +The stain upon his silver down will stay. +Poor grooms are sightless night, kings glorious day: +Gnats are unnoted wheresoe'er they fly, +But eagles gazed upon with every eye. + +'Out, idle words, servants to shallow fools! +Unprofitable sounds, weak arbitrators! +Busy yourselves in skill-contending schools; +Debate where leisure serves with dull debaters; +To trembling clients be you mediators: +For me, I force not argument a straw, +Since that my case is past the help of law. + +'In vain I rail at Opportunity, +At Time, at Tarquin, and uncheerful Night; +In vain I cavil with mine infamy, +In vain I spurn at my confirm'd despite: +This helpless smoke of words doth me no right. +The remedy indeed to do me good +Is to let forth my foul-defiled blood. + +'Poor hand, why quiver'st thou at this decree? +Honour thyself to rid me of this shame: +For if I die, my honour lives in thee; +But if I live, thou livest in my defame: +Since thou couldst not defend thy loyal dame, +And wast afeard to scratch her wicked foe, +Kill both thyself and her for yielding so.' + +This said, from her be-tumbled couch she starteth, +To find some desperate instrument of death: +But this no slaughterhouse no tool imparteth +To make more vent for passage of her breath; +Which, thronging through her lips, so vanisheth +As smoke from AEtna, that in air consumes, +Or that which from discharged cannon fumes. + +'In vain,' quoth she, 'I live, and seek in vain +Some happy mean to end a hapless life. +I fear'd by Tarquin's falchion to be slain, +Yet for the self-same purpose seek a knife: +But when I fear'd I was a loyal wife: +So am I now: O no, that cannot be; +Of that true type hath Tarquin rifled me. + +'O, that is gone for which I sought to live, +And therefore now I need not fear to die. +To clear this spot by death, at least I give +A badge of fame to slander's livery; +A dying life to living infamy: +Poor helpless help, the treasure stol'n away, +To burn the guiltless casket where it lay! + +'Well, well, dear Collatine, thou shalt not know +The stained taste of violated troth; +I will not wrong thy true affection so, +To flatter thee with an infringed oath; +This bastard graff shall never come to growth: +He shall not boast who did thy stock pollute +That thou art doting father of his fruit. + +'Nor shall he smile at thee in secret thought, +Nor laugh with his companions at thy state: +But thou shalt know thy interest was not bought +Basely with gold, but stol'n from forth thy gate. +For me, I am the mistress of my fate, +And with my trespass never will dispense, +Till life to death acquit my forced offence. + +'I will not poison thee with my attaint, +Nor fold my fault in cleanly-coin'd excuses; +My sable ground of sin I will not paint, +To hide the truth of this false night's abuses: +My tongue shall utter all; mine eyes, like sluices, +As from a mountain-spring that feeds a dale, +Shall gush pure streams to purge my impure tale.' + +By this, lamenting Philomel had ended +The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow, +And solemn night with slow sad gait descended +To ugly hell; when, lo, the blushing morrow +Lends light to all fair eyes that light will borrow: +But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see, +And therefore still in night would cloister'd be. + +Revealing day through every cranny spies, +And seems to point her out where she sits weeping; +To whom she sobbing speaks: 'O eye of eyes, +Why pry'st thou through my window? leave thy peeping: +Mock with thy tickling beams eyes that are sleeping: +Brand not my forehead with thy piercing light, +For day hath nought to do what's done by night.' + +Thus cavils she with every thing she sees: +True grief is fond and testy as a child, +Who wayward once, his mood with nought agrees: +Old woes, not infant sorrows, bear them mild; +Continuance tames the one; the other wild, +Like an unpractised swimmer plunging still, +With too much labour drowns for want of skill. + +So she, deep-drenched in a sea of care, +Holds disputation with each thing she views, +And to herself all sorrow doth compare; +No object but her passion's strength renews; +And as one shifts, another straight ensues: +Sometime her grief is dumb and hath no words; +Sometime 'tis mad and too much talk affords. + +The little birds that tune their morning's joy +Make her moans mad with their sweet melody: +For mirth doth search the bottom of annoy; +Sad souls are slain in merry company; +Grief best is pleased with grief's society: +True sorrow then is feelingly sufficed +When with like semblance it is sympathized. + +'Tis double death to drown in ken of shore; +He ten times pines that pines beholding food; +To see the salve doth make the wound ache more; +Great grief grieves most at that would do it good; +Deep woes roll forward like a gentle flood, +Who being stopp'd, the bounding banks o'erflows; +Grief dallied with nor law nor limit knows. + +'You mocking-birds,' quoth she, 'your tunes entomb +Within your hollow-swelling feather'd breasts, +And in my hearing be you mute and dumb: +My restless discord loves no stops nor rests; +A woeful hostess brooks not merry guests: +Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears; +Distress likes dumps when time is kept with tears. + +'Come, Philomel, that sing'st of ravishment, +Make thy sad grove in my dishevell'd hair: +As the dank earth weeps at thy languishment, +So I at each sad strain will strain a tear, +And with deep groans the diapason bear; +For burden-wise I'll hum on Tarquin still, +While thou on Tereus descant'st better skill. + +'And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part, +To keep thy sharp woes waking, wretched I, +To imitate thee well, against my heart +Will fix a sharp knife to affright mine eye; +Who, if it wink, shall thereon fall and die. +These means, as frets upon an instrument, +Shall tune our heart-strings to true languishment. + +'And for, poor bird, thou sing'st not in the day, +As shaming any eye should thee behold, +Some dark deep desert, seated from the way, +That knows not parching heat nor freezing cold, +Will we find out; and there we will unfold +To creatures stern sad tunes, to change their kinds: +Since men prove beasts, let beasts bear gentle minds.' + +As the poor frighted deer, that stands at gaze, +Wildly determining which way to fly, +Or one encompass'd with a winding maze, +That cannot tread the way out readily; +So with herself is she in mutiny, +To live or die which of the twain were better, +When life is shamed, and death reproach's debtor. + +'To kill myself,' quoth she, 'alack, what were it, +But with my body my poor soul's pollution? +They that lose half with greater patience bear it +Than they whose whole is swallow'd in confusion. +That mother tries a merciless conclusion +Who, having two sweet babes, when death takes one, +Will slay the other and be nurse to none. + +'My body or my soul, which was the dearer, +When the one pure, the other made divine? +Whose love of either to myself was nearer, +When both were kept for heaven and Collatine? +Ay me! the bark peel'd from the lofty pine, +His leaves will wither and his sap decay; +So must my soul, her bark being peel'd away. + +'Her house is sack'd, her quiet interrupted, +Her mansion batter'd by the enemy; +Her sacred temple spotted, spoil'd, corrupted, +Grossly engirt with daring infamy: +Then let it not be call'd impiety, +If in this blemish'd fort I make some hole +Through which I may convey this troubled soul. + +'Yet die I will not till my Collatine +Have heard the cause of my untimely death; +That he may vow, in that sad hour of mine, +Revenge on him that made me stop my breath. +My stained blood to Tarquin I'll bequeath, +Which by him tainted shall for him be spent, +And as his due writ in my testament. + +'My honour I'll bequeath unto the knife +That wounds my body so dishonoured. +'Tis honour to deprive dishonour'd life; +The one will live, the other being dead: +So of shame's ashes shall my fame be bred; +For in my death I murder shameful scorn: +My shame so dead, mine honour is new-born. + +'Dear lord of that dear jewel I have lost, +What legacy shall I bequeath to thee? +My resolution, love, shall be thy boast, +By whose example thou revenged mayest be. +How Tarquin must be used, read it in me: +Myself, thy friend, will kill myself, thy foe, +And for my sake serve thou false Tarquin so. + +'This brief abridgement of my will I make: +My soul and body to the skies and ground; +My resolution, husband, do thou take; +Mine honour be the knife's that makes my wound; +My shame be his that did my fame confound; +And all my fame that lives disbursed be +To those that live, and think no shame of me. + +'Thou, Collatine, shalt oversee this will; +How was I overseen that thou shalt see it! +My blood shall wash the slander of mine ill; +My life's foul deed, my life's fair end shall free it. +Faint not, faint heart, but stoutly say 'So be it:' +Yield to my hand; my hand shall conquer thee: +Thou dead, both die, and both shall victors be.' + +This Plot of death when sadly she had laid, +And wiped the brinish pearl from her bright eyes, +With untuned tongue she hoarsely calls her maid, +Whose swift obedience to her mistress hies; +For fleet-wing'd duty with thought's feathers flies. +Poor Lucrece' cheeks unto her maid seem so +As winter meads when sun doth melt their snow. + +Her mistress she doth give demure good-morrow, +With soft-slow tongue, true mark of modesty, +And sorts a sad look to her lady's sorrow, +For why her face wore sorrow's livery; +But durst not ask of her audaciously +Why her two suns were cloud-eclipsed so, +Nor why her fair cheeks over-wash'd with woe. + +But as the earth doth weep, the sun being set, +Each flower moisten'd like a melting eye; +Even so the maid with swelling drops gan wet +Her circled eyne, enforced by sympathy +Of those fair suns set in her mistress' sky, +Who in a salt-waved ocean quench their light, +Which makes the maid weep like the dewy night. + +A pretty while these pretty creatures stand, +Like ivory conduits coral cisterns filling: +One justly weeps; the other takes in hand +No cause, but company, of her drops spilling: +Their gentle sex to weep are often willing; +Grieving themselves to guess at others' smarts, +And then they drown their eyes or break their hearts. + +For men have marble, women waxen, minds, +And therefore are they form'd as marble will; +The weak oppress'd, the impression of strange kinds +Is form'd in them by force, by fraud, or skill: +Then call them not the authors of their ill, +No more than wax shall be accounted evil +Wherein is stamp'd the semblance of a devil. + +Their smoothness, like a goodly champaign plain, +Lays open all the little worms that creep; +In men, as in a rough-grown grove, remain +Cave-keeping evils that obscurely sleep: +Through crystal walls each little mote will peep: +Though men can cover crimes with bold stern looks, +Poor women's faces are their own fault's books. + +No man inveigh against the wither'd flower, +But chide rough winter that the flower hath kill'd: +Not that devour'd, but that which doth devour, +Is worthy blame. O, let it not be hild +Poor women's faults, that they are so fulfill'd +With men's abuses: those proud lords, to blame, +Make weak-made women tenants to their shame. + +The precedent whereof in Lucrece view, +Assail'd by night with circumstances strong +Of present death, and shame that might ensue +By that her death, to do her husband wrong: +Such danger to resistance did belong, +That dying fear through all her body spread; +And who cannot abuse a body dead? + +By this, mild patience bid fair Lucrece speak +To the poor counterfeit of her complaining: +'My girl,' quoth she, 'on what occasion break +Those tears from thee, that down thy cheeks are +raining? +If thou dost weep for grief of my sustaining, +Know, gentle wench, it small avails my mood: +If tears could help, mine own would do me good. + +'But tell me, girl, when went'--and there she stay'd +Till after a deep groan--'Tarquin from hence?' +'Madam, ere I was up,' replied the maid, +'The more to blame my sluggard negligence: +Yet with the fault I thus far can dispense; +Myself was stirring ere the break of day, +And, ere I rose, was Tarquin gone away. + +'But, lady, if your maid may be so bold, +She would request to know your heaviness.' +'O, peace!' quoth Lucrece: 'if it should be told, +The repetition cannot make it less; +For more it is than I can well express: +And that deep torture may be call'd a hell +When more is felt than one hath power to tell. + +'Go, get me hither paper, ink, and pen: +Yet save that labour, for I have them here. +What should I say? One of my husband's men +Bid thou be ready, by and by, to bear +A letter to my lord, my love, my dear; +Bid him with speed prepare to carry it; +The cause craves haste, and it will soon be writ.' + +Her maid is gone, and she prepares to write, +First hovering o'er the paper with her quill: +Conceit and grief an eager combat fight; +What wit sets down is blotted straight with will; +This is too curious-good, this blunt and ill: +Much like a press of people at a door, +Throng her inventions, which shall go before. + +At last she thus begins: 'Thou worthy lord +Of that unworthy wife that greeteth thee, +Health to thy person! next vouchsafe t' afford-- +If ever, love, thy Lucrece thou wilt see-- +Some present speed to come and visit me. +So, I commend me from our house in grief: +My woes are tedious, though my words are brief.' + +Here folds she up the tenor of her woe, +Her certain sorrow writ uncertainly. +By this short schedule Collatine may know +Her grief, but not her grief's true quality: +She dares not thereof make discovery, +Lest he should hold it her own gross abuse, +Ere she with blood had stain'd her stain'd excuse. + +Besides, the life and feeling of her passion +She hoards, to spend when he is by to hear her: +When sighs and groans and tears may grace the fashion +Of her disgrace, the better so to clear her +From that suspicion which the world might bear her. +To shun this blot, she would not blot the letter +With words, till action might become them better. + +To see sad sights moves more than hear them told; +For then eye interprets to the ear +The heavy motion that it doth behold, +When every part a part of woe doth bear. +'Tis but a part of sorrow that we hear: +Deep sounds make lesser noise than shallow fords, +And sorrow ebbs, being blown with wind of words. + +Her letter now is seal'd, and on it writ +'At Ardea to my lord with more than haste.' +The post attends, and she delivers it, +Charging the sour-faced groom to hie as fast +As lagging fowls before the northern blast: +Speed more than speed but dull and slow she deems: +Extremity still urgeth such extremes. + +The homely villain court'sies to her low; +And, blushing on her, with a steadfast eye +Receives the scroll without or yea or no, +And forth with bashful innocence doth hie. +But they whose guilt within their bosoms lie +Imagine every eye beholds their blame; +For Lucrece thought he blush'd to her see shame: + +When, silly groom! God wot, it was defect +Of spirit, Life, and bold audacity. +Such harmless creatures have a true respect +To talk in deeds, while others saucily +Promise more speed, but do it leisurely: +Even so this pattern of the worn-out age +Pawn'd honest looks, but laid no words to gage. + +His kindled duty kindled her mistrust, +That two red fires in both their faces blazed; +She thought he blush'd, as knowing Tarquin's lust, +And, blushing with him, wistly on him gazed; +Her earnest eye did make him more amazed: +The more she saw the blood his cheeks replenish, +The more she thought he spied in her some blemish. + +But long she thinks till he return again, +And yet the duteous vassal scarce is gone. +The weary time she cannot entertain, +For now 'tis stale to sigh, to weep, and groan: +So woe hath wearied woe, moan tired moan, +That she her plaints a little while doth stay, +Pausing for means to mourn some newer way. + +At last she calls to mind where hangs a piece +Of skilful painting, made for Priam's Troy: +Before the which is drawn the power of Greece. +For Helen's rape the city to destroy, +Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with annoy; +Which the conceited painter drew so proud, +As heaven, it seem'd, to kiss the turrets bow'd. + +A thousand lamentable objects there, +In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life: +Many a dry drop seem'd a weeping tear, +Shed for the slaughter'd husband by the wife: +The red blood reek'd, to show the painter's strife; +And dying eyes gleam'd forth their ashy lights, +Like dying coals burnt out in tedious nights. + +There might you see the labouring pioner +Begrimed with sweat, and smeared all with dust; +And from the towers of Troy there would appear +The very eyes of men through loop-holes thrust, +Gazing upon the Greeks with little lust: +Such sweet observance in this work was had, +That one might see those far-off eyes look sad. + +In great commanders grace and majesty +You might behold, triumphing in their faces; +In youth, quick bearing and dexterity; +Pale cowards, marching on with trembling paces; +Which heartless peasants did so well resemble, +That one would swear he saw them quake and tremble. + +In Ajax and Ulysses, O, what art +Of physiognomy might one behold! +The face of either cipher'd either's heart; +Their face their manners most expressly told: +In Ajax' eyes blunt rage and rigor roll'd; +But the mild glance that sly Ulysses lent +Show'd deep regard and smiling government. + +There pleading might you see grave Nestor stand, +As 'twere encouraging the Greeks to fight; +Making such sober action with his hand, +That it beguiled attention, charm'd the sight: +In speech, it seem'd, his beard, all silver white, +Wagg'd up and down, and from his lips did fly +Thin winding breath, which purl'd up to the sky. + +About him were a press of gaping faces, +Which seem'd to swallow up his sound advice; +All jointly listening, but with several graces, +As if some mermaid did their ears entice, +Some high, some low, the painter was so nice; +The scalps of many, almost hid behind, +To jump up higher seem'd, to mock the mind. + +Here one man's hand lean'd on another's head, +His nose being shadow'd by his neighbour's ear; +Here one being throng'd bears back, all boll'n and +red; +Another smother'd seems to pelt and swear; +And in their rage such signs of rage they bear, +As, but for loss of Nestor's golden words, +It seem'd they would debate with angry swords. + +For much imaginary work was there; +Conceit deceitful, so compact, so kind, +That for Achilles' image stood his spear, +Griped in an armed hand; himself, behind, +Was left unseen, save to the eye of mind: +A hand, a foot, a face, a leg, a head, +Stood for the whole to be imagined. + +And from the walls of strong-besieged Troy +When their brave hope, bold Hector, march'd to +field, +Stood many Trojan mothers, sharing joy +To see their youthful sons bright weapons wield; +And to their hope they such odd action yield, +That through their light joy seemed to appear, +Like bright things stain'd, a kind of heavy fear. + +And from the strand of Dardan, where they fought, +To Simois' reedy banks the red blood ran, +Whose waves to imitate the battle sought +With swelling ridges; and their ranks began +To break upon the galled shore, and than +Retire again, till, meeting greater ranks, +They join and shoot their foam at Simois' banks. + +To this well-painted piece is Lucrece come, +To find a face where all distress is stell'd. +Many she sees where cares have carved some, +But none where all distress and dolour dwell'd, +Till she despairing Hecuba beheld, +Staring on Priam's wounds with her old eyes, +Which bleeding under Pyrrhus' proud foot lies. + +In her the painter had anatomized +Time's ruin, beauty's wreck, and grim care's reign: +Her cheeks with chaps and wrinkles were disguised; +Of what she was no semblance did remain: +Her blue blood changed to black in every vein, +Wanting the spring that those shrunk pipes had fed, +Show'd life imprison'd in a body dead. + +On this sad shadow Lucrece spends her eyes, +And shapes her sorrow to the beldam's woes, +Who nothing wants to answer her but cries, +And bitter words to ban her cruel foes: +The painter was no god to lend her those; +And therefore Lucrece swears he did her wrong, +To give her so much grief and not a tongue. + +'Poor instrument,' quoth she,'without a sound, +I'll tune thy woes with my lamenting tongue; +And drop sweet balm in Priam's painted wound, +And rail on Pyrrhus that hath done him wrong; +And with my tears quench Troy that burns so long; +And with my knife scratch out the angry eyes +Of all the Greeks that are thine enemies. + +'Show me the strumpet that began this stir, +That with my nails her beauty I may tear. +Thy heat of lust, fond Paris, did incur +This load of wrath that burning Troy doth bear: +Thy eye kindled the fire that burneth here; +And here in Troy, for trespass of thine eye, +The sire, the son, the dame, and daughter die. + +'Why should the private pleasure of some one +Become the public plague of many moe? +Let sin, alone committed, light alone +Upon his head that hath transgressed so; +Let guiltless souls be freed from guilty woe: +For one's offence why should so many fall, +To plague a private sin in general? + +'Lo, here weeps Hecuba, here Priam dies, +Here manly Hector faints, here Troilus swounds, +Here friend by friend in bloody channel lies, +And friend to friend gives unadvised wounds, +And one man's lust these many lives confounds: +Had doting Priam cheque'd his son's desire, +Troy had been bright with fame and not with fire.' + +Here feelingly she weeps Troy's painted woes: +For sorrow, like a heavy-hanging bell, +Once set on ringing, with his own weight goes; +Then little strength rings out the doleful knell: +So Lucrece, set a-work, sad tales doth tell +To pencill'd pensiveness and colour'd sorrow; +She lends them words, and she their looks doth borrow. + +She throws her eyes about the painting round, +And whom she finds forlorn she doth lament. +At last she sees a wretched image bound, +That piteous looks to Phrygian shepherds lent: +His face, though full of cares, yet show'd content; +Onward to Troy with the blunt swains he goes, +So mild, that Patience seem'd to scorn his woes. + +In him the painter labour'd with his skill +To hide deceit, and give the harmless show +An humble gait, calm looks, eyes wailing still, +A brow unbent, that seem'd to welcome woe; +Cheeks neither red nor pale, but mingled so +That blushing red no guilty instance gave, +Nor ashy pale the fear that false hearts have. + +But, like a constant and confirmed devil, +He entertain'd a show so seeming just, +And therein so ensconced his secret evil, +That jealousy itself could not mistrust +False-creeping craft and perjury should thrust +Into so bright a day such black-faced storms, +Or blot with hell-born sin such saint-like forms. + +The well-skill'd workman this mild image drew +For perjured Sinon, whose enchanting story +The credulous old Priam after slew; +Whose words like wildfire burnt the shining glory +Of rich-built Ilion, that the skies were sorry, +And little stars shot from their fixed places, +When their glass fell wherein they view'd their faces. + +This picture she advisedly perused, +And chid the painter for his wondrous skill, +Saying, some shape in Sinon's was abused; +So fair a form lodged not a mind so ill: +And still on him she gazed; and gazing still, +Such signs of truth in his plain face she spied, +That she concludes the picture was belied. + +'It cannot be,' quoth she,'that so much guile'-- +She would have said 'can lurk in such a look;' +But Tarquin's shape came in her mind the while, +And from her tongue 'can lurk' from 'cannot' took: +'It cannot be' she in that sense forsook, +And turn'd it thus,' It cannot be, I find, +But such a face should bear a wicked mind. + +'For even as subtle Sinon here is painted. +So sober-sad, so weary, and so mild, +As if with grief or travail he had fainted, +To me came Tarquin armed; so beguiled +With outward honesty, but yet defiled +With inward vice: as Priam him did cherish, +So did I Tarquin; so my Troy did perish. + +'Look, look, how listening Priam wets his eyes, +To see those borrow'd tears that Sinon sheds! +Priam, why art thou old and yet not wise? +For every tear he falls a Trojan bleeds: +His eye drops fire, no water thence proceeds; +Those round clear pearls of his, that move thy pity, +Are balls of quenchless fire to burn thy city. + +'Such devils steal effects from lightless hell; +For Sinon in his fire doth quake with cold, +And in that cold hot-burning fire doth dwell; +These contraries such unity do hold, +Only to flatter fools and make them bold: +So Priam's trust false Sinon's tears doth flatter, +That he finds means to burn his Troy with water.' + +Here, all enraged, such passion her assails, +That patience is quite beaten from her breast. +She tears the senseless Sinon with her nails, +Comparing him to that unhappy guest +Whose deed hath made herself herself detest: +At last she smilingly with this gives o'er; +'Fool, fool!' quoth she, 'his wounds will not be sore.' + +Thus ebbs and flows the current of her sorrow, +And time doth weary time with her complaining. +She looks for night, and then she longs for morrow, +And both she thinks too long with her remaining: +Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining: +Though woe be heavy, yet it seldom sleeps, +And they that watch see time how slow it creeps. + +Which all this time hath overslipp'd her thought, +That she with painted images hath spent; +Being from the feeling of her own grief brought +By deep surmise of others' detriment; +Losing her woes in shows of discontent. +It easeth some, though none it ever cured, +To think their dolour others have endured. + +But now the mindful messenger, come back, +Brings home his lord and other company; +Who finds his Lucrece clad in mourning black: +And round about her tear-stained eye +Blue circles stream'd; like rainbows in the sky: +These water-galls in her dim element +Foretell new storms to those already spent. + +Which when her sad-beholding husband saw, +Amazedly in her sad face he stares: +Her eyes, though sod in tears, look'd red and raw, +Her lively colour kill'd with deadly cares. +He hath no power to ask her how she fares: +Both stood, like old acquaintance in a trance, +Met far from home, wondering each other's chance. + +At last he takes her by the bloodless hand, +And thus begins: 'What uncouth ill event +Hath thee befall'n, that thou dost trembling stand? +Sweet love, what spite hath thy fair colour spent? +Why art thou thus attired in discontent? +Unmask, dear dear, this moody heaviness, +And tell thy grief, that we may give redress.' + +Three times with sighs she gives her sorrow fire, +Ere once she can discharge one word of woe: +At length address'd to answer his desire, +She modestly prepares to let them know +Her honour is ta'en prisoner by the foe; +While Collatine and his consorted lords +With sad attention long to hear her words. + +And now this pale swan in her watery nest +Begins the sad dirge of her certain ending; +'Few words,' quoth she, 'Shall fit the trespass best, +Where no excuse can give the fault amending: +In me moe woes than words are now depending; +And my laments would be drawn out too long, +To tell them all with one poor tired tongue. + +'Then be this all the task it hath to say +Dear husband, in the interest of thy bed +A stranger came, and on that pillow lay +Where thou was wont to rest thy weary head; +And what wrong else may be imagined +By foul enforcement might be done to me, +From that, alas, thy Lucrece is not free. + +'For in the dreadful dead of dark midnight, +With shining falchion in my chamber came +A creeping creature, with a flaming light, +And softly cried 'Awake, thou Roman dame, +And entertain my love; else lasting shame +On thee and thine this night I will inflict, +If thou my love's desire do contradict. + +' 'For some hard-favour'd groom of thine,' quoth he, +'Unless thou yoke thy liking to my will, +I'll murder straight, and then I'll slaughter thee +And swear I found you where you did fulfil +The loathsome act of lust, and so did kill +The lechers in their deed: this act will be +My fame and thy perpetual infamy.' + +'With this, I did begin to start and cry; +And then against my heart he sets his sword, +Swearing, unless I took all patiently, +I should not live to speak another word; +So should my shame still rest upon record, +And never be forgot in mighty Rome +Th' adulterate death of Lucrece and her groom. + +'Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak, +And far the weaker with so strong a fear: +My bloody judge forbade my tongue to speak; +No rightful plea might plead for justice there: +His scarlet lust came evidence to swear +That my poor beauty had purloin'd his eyes; +And when the judge is robb'd the prisoner dies. + +'O, teach me how to make mine own excuse! +Or at the least this refuge let me find; +Though my gross blood be stain'd with this abuse, +Immaculate and spotless is my mind; +That was not forced; that never was inclined +To accessary yieldings, but still pure +Doth in her poison'd closet yet endure.' + +Lo, here, the hopeless merchant of this loss, +With head declined, and voice damm'd up with woe, +With sad set eyes, and wretched arms across, +From lips new-waxen pale begins to blow +The grief away that stops his answer so: +But, wretched as he is, he strives in vain; +What he breathes out his breath drinks up again. + +As through an arch the violent roaring tide +Outruns the eye that doth behold his haste, +Yet in the eddy boundeth in his pride +Back to the strait that forced him on so fast; +In rage sent out, recall'd in rage, being past: +Even so his sighs, his sorrows, make a saw, +To push grief on, and back the same grief draw. + +Which speechless woe of his poor she attendeth, +And his untimely frenzy thus awaketh: +'Dear lord, thy sorrow to my sorrow lendeth +Another power; no flood by raining slaketh. +My woe too sensible thy passion maketh +More feeling-painful: let it then suffice +To drown one woe, one pair of weeping eyes. + +'And for my sake, when I might charm thee so, +For she that was thy Lucrece, now attend me: +Be suddenly revenged on my foe, +Thine, mine, his own: suppose thou dost defend me +From what is past: the help that thou shalt lend me +Comes all too late, yet let the traitor die; +For sparing justice feeds iniquity. + +'But ere I name him, you fair lords,' quoth she, +Speaking to those that came with Collatine, +'Shall plight your honourable faiths to me, +With swift pursuit to venge this wrong of mine; +For 'tis a meritorious fair design +To chase injustice with revengeful arms: +Knights, by their oaths, should right poor ladies' harms.' + +At this request, with noble disposition +Each present lord began to promise aid, +As bound in knighthood to her imposition, +Longing to hear the hateful foe bewray'd. +But she, that yet her sad task hath not said, +The protestation stops. 'O, speak, ' quoth she, +'How may this forced stain be wiped from me? + +'What is the quality of mine offence, +Being constrain'd with dreadful circumstance? +May my pure mind with the foul act dispense, +My low-declined honour to advance? +May any terms acquit me from this chance? +The poison'd fountain clears itself again; +And why not I from this compelled stain?' + +With this, they all at once began to say, +Her body's stain her mind untainted clears; +While with a joyless smile she turns away +The face, that map which deep impression bears +Of hard misfortune, carved in it with tears. +'No, no,' quoth she, 'no dame, hereafter living, +By my excuse shall claim excuse's giving.' + +Here with a sigh, as if her heart would break, +She throws forth Tarquin's name; 'He, he,' she says, +But more than 'he' her poor tongue could not speak; +Till after many accents and delays, +Untimely breathings, sick and short assays, +She utters this, 'He, he, fair lords, 'tis he, +That guides this hand to give this wound to me.' + +Even here she sheathed in her harmless breast +A harmful knife, that thence her soul unsheathed: +That blow did that it from the deep unrest +Of that polluted prison where it breathed: +Her contrite sighs unto the clouds bequeath'd +Her winged sprite, and through her wounds doth fly +Life's lasting date from cancell'd destiny. + +Stone-still, astonish'd with this deadly deed, +Stood Collatine and all his lordly crew; +Till Lucrece' father, that beholds her bleed, +Himself on her self-slaughter'd body threw; +And from the purple fountain Brutus drew +The murderous knife, and, as it left the place, +Her blood, in poor revenge, held it in chase; + +And bubbling from her breast, it doth divide +In two slow rivers, that the crimson blood +Circles her body in on every side, +Who, like a late-sack'd island, vastly stood +Bare and unpeopled in this fearful flood. +Some of her blood still pure and red remain'd, +And some look'd black, and that false Tarquin stain'd. + +About the mourning and congealed face +Of that black blood a watery rigol goes, +Which seems to weep upon the tainted place: +And ever since, as pitying Lucrece' woes, +Corrupted blood some watery token shows; +And blood untainted still doth red abide, +Blushing at that which is so putrified. + +'Daughter, dear daughter,' old Lucretius cries, +'That life was mine which thou hast here deprived. +If in the child the father's image lies, +Where shall I live now Lucrece is unlived? +Thou wast not to this end from me derived. +If children predecease progenitors, +We are their offspring, and they none of ours. + +'Poor broken glass, I often did behold +In thy sweet semblance my old age new born; +But now that fresh fair mirror, dim and old, +Shows me a bare-boned death by time out-worn: +O, from thy cheeks my image thou hast torn, +And shivered all the beauty of my glass, +That I no more can see what once I was! + +'O time, cease thou thy course and last no longer, +If they surcease to be that should survive. +Shall rotten death make conquest of the stronger +And leave the faltering feeble souls alive? +The old bees die, the young possess their hive: +Then live, sweet Lucrece, live again and see +Thy father die, and not thy father thee! + +By this, starts Collatine as from a dream, +And bids Lucretius give his sorrow place; +And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream +He falls, and bathes the pale fear in his face, +And counterfeits to die with her a space; +Till manly shame bids him possess his breath +And live to be revenged on her death. + +The deep vexation of his inward soul +Hath served a dumb arrest upon his tongue; +Who, mad that sorrow should his use control, +Or keep him from heart-easing words so long, +Begins to talk; but through his lips do throng +Weak words, so thick come in his poor heart's aid, +That no man could distinguish what he said. + +Yet sometime 'Tarquin' was pronounced plain, +But through his teeth, as if the name he tore. +This windy tempest, till it blow up rain, +Held back his sorrow's tide, to make it more; +At last it rains, and busy winds give o'er: +Then son and father weep with equal strife +Who should weep most, for daughter or for wife. + +The one doth call her his, the other his, +Yet neither may possess the claim they lay. +The father says 'She's mine.' 'O, mine she is,' +Replies her husband: 'do not take away +My sorrow's interest; let no mourner say +He weeps for her, for she was only mine, +And only must be wail'd by Collatine.' + +'O,' quoth Lucretius,' I did give that life +Which she too early and too late hath spill'd.' +'Woe, woe,' quoth Collatine, 'she was my wife, +I owed her, and 'tis mine that she hath kill'd.' +'My daughter' and 'my wife' with clamours fill'd +The dispersed air, who, holding Lucrece' life, +Answer'd their cries, 'my daughter' and 'my wife.' + +Brutus, who pluck'd the knife from Lucrece' side, +Seeing such emulation in their woe, +Began to clothe his wit in state and pride, +Burying in Lucrece' wound his folly's show. +He with the Romans was esteemed so +As silly-jeering idiots are with kings, +For sportive words and uttering foolish things: + +But now he throws that shallow habit by, +Wherein deep policy did him disguise; +And arm'd his long-hid wits advisedly, +To cheque the tears in Collatinus' eyes. +'Thou wronged lord of Rome,' quoth be, 'arise: +Let my unsounded self, supposed a fool, +Now set thy long-experienced wit to school. + +'Why, Collatine, is woe the cure for woe? +Do wounds help wounds, or grief help grievous deeds? +Is it revenge to give thyself a blow +For his foul act by whom thy fair wife bleeds? +Such childish humour from weak minds proceeds: +Thy wretched wife mistook the matter so, +To slay herself, that should have slain her foe. + +'Courageous Roman, do not steep thy heart +In such relenting dew of lamentations; +But kneel with me and help to bear thy part, +To rouse our Roman gods with invocations, +That they will suffer these abominations, +Since Rome herself in them doth stand disgraced, +By our strong arms from forth her fair streets chased. + +'Now, by the Capitol that we adore, +And by this chaste blood so unjustly stain'd, +By heaven's fair sun that breeds the fat earth's +store, +By all our country rights in Rome maintain'd, +And by chaste Lucrece' soul that late complain'd +Her wrongs to us, and by this bloody knife, +We will revenge the death of this true wife.' + +This said, he struck his hand upon his breast, +And kiss'd the fatal knife, to end his vow; +And to his protestation urged the rest, +Who, wondering at him, did his words allow: +Then jointly to the ground their knees they bow; +And that deep vow, which Brutus made before, +He doth again repeat, and that they swore. + +When they had sworn to this advised doom, +They did conclude to bear dead Lucrece thence; +To show her bleeding body thorough Rome, +And so to publish Tarquin's foul offence: +Which being done with speedy diligence, +The Romans plausibly did give consent +To Tarquin's everlasting banishment. + + + + + SONNETS + + + +TO THE ONLY BEGETTER OF +THESE INSUING SONNETS +MR. W. H. ALL HAPPINESS +AND THAT ETERNITY +PROMISED BY +OUR EVER-LIVING POET WISHETH +THE WELL-WISHING +ADVENTURER IN +SETTING FORTH +T. T. + + +I. + +FROM fairest creatures we desire increase, +That thereby beauty's rose might never die, +But as the riper should by time decease, +His tender heir might bear his memory: +But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, +Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel, +Making a famine where abundance lies, +Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel. +Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament +And only herald to the gaudy spring, +Within thine own bud buriest thy content +And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding. + Pity the world, or else this glutton be, + To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. + +II. + +When forty winters shall beseige thy brow, +And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, +Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, +Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held: +Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, +Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, +To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, +Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. +How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, +If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine +Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,' +Proving his beauty by succession thine! + This were to be new made when thou art old, + And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold. + +III. + +Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest +Now is the time that face should form another; +Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, +Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. +For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb +Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? +Or who is he so fond will be the tomb +Of his self-love, to stop posterity? +Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee +Calls back the lovely April of her prime: +So thou through windows of thine age shall see +Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. + But if thou live, remember'd not to be, + Die single, and thine image dies with thee. + +IV. + +Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend +Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy? +Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend, +And being frank she lends to those are free. +Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse +The bounteous largess given thee to give? +Profitless usurer, why dost thou use +So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live? +For having traffic with thyself alone, +Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive. +Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone, +What acceptable audit canst thou leave? + Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee, + Which, used, lives th' executor to be. + +V. + +Those hours, that with gentle work did frame +The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, +Will play the tyrants to the very same +And that unfair which fairly doth excel: +For never-resting time leads summer on +To hideous winter and confounds him there; +Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone, +Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where: +Then, were not summer's distillation left, +A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, +Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, +Nor it nor no remembrance what it was: + But flowers distill'd though they with winter meet, + Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet. + +VI. + +Then let not winter's ragged hand deface +In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: +Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place +With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. +That use is not forbidden usury, +Which happies those that pay the willing loan; +That's for thyself to breed another thee, +Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; +Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, +If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: +Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart, +Leaving thee living in posterity? + Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair + To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. + +VII. + +Lo! in the orient when the gracious light +Lifts up his burning head, each under eye +Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, +Serving with looks his sacred majesty; +And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, +Resembling strong youth in his middle age, +yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, +Attending on his golden pilgrimage; +But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, +Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, +The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are +From his low tract and look another way: + So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, + Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son. + +VIII. + +Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? +Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. +Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly, +Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy? +If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, +By unions married, do offend thine ear, +They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds +In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. +Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, +Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, +Resembling sire and child and happy mother +Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: + Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, + Sings this to thee: 'thou single wilt prove none.' + +IX. + +Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye +That thou consumest thyself in single life? +Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die. +The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife; +The world will be thy widow and still weep +That thou no form of thee hast left behind, +When every private widow well may keep +By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind. +Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend +Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it; +But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, +And kept unused, the user so destroys it. + No love toward others in that bosom sits + That on himself such murderous shame commits. + +X. + +For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any, +Who for thyself art so unprovident. +Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, +But that thou none lovest is most evident; +For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate +That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire. +Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate +Which to repair should be thy chief desire. +O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind! +Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? +Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, +Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: + Make thee another self, for love of me, + That beauty still may live in thine or thee. + +XI. + +As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest +In one of thine, from that which thou departest; +And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest +Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. +Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase: +Without this, folly, age and cold decay: +If all were minded so, the times should cease +And threescore year would make the world away. +Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, +Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish: +Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more; +Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: + She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby + Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. + +XII. + +When I do count the clock that tells the time, +And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; +When I behold the violet past prime, +And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; +When lofty trees I see barren of leaves +Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, +And summer's green all girded up in sheaves +Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, +Then of thy beauty do I question make, +That thou among the wastes of time must go, +Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake +And die as fast as they see others grow; + And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence + Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence. + +XIII. + +O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are +No longer yours than you yourself here live: +Against this coming end you should prepare, +And your sweet semblance to some other give. +So should that beauty which you hold in lease +Find no determination: then you were +Yourself again after yourself's decease, +When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. +Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, +Which husbandry in honour might uphold +Against the stormy gusts of winter's day +And barren rage of death's eternal cold? + O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know + You had a father: let your son say so. + +XIV. + +Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; +And yet methinks I have astronomy, +But not to tell of good or evil luck, +Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; +Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, +Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, +Or say with princes if it shall go well, +By oft predict that I in heaven find: +But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, +And, constant stars, in them I read such art +As truth and beauty shall together thrive, +If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; + Or else of thee this I prognosticate: + Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. + +XV. + +When I consider every thing that grows +Holds in perfection but a little moment, +That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows +Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; +When I perceive that men as plants increase, +Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky, +Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, +And wear their brave state out of memory; +Then the conceit of this inconstant stay +Sets you most rich in youth before my sight, +Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay, +To change your day of youth to sullied night; + And all in war with Time for love of you, + As he takes from you, I engraft you new. + +XVI. + +But wherefore do not you a mightier way +Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? +And fortify yourself in your decay +With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? +Now stand you on the top of happy hours, +And many maiden gardens yet unset +With virtuous wish would bear your living flowers, +Much liker than your painted counterfeit: +So should the lines of life that life repair, +Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen, +Neither in inward worth nor outward fair, +Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. + To give away yourself keeps yourself still, + And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill. + +XVII. + +Who will believe my verse in time to come, +If it were fill'd with your most high deserts? +Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb +Which hides your life and shows not half your parts. +If I could write the beauty of your eyes +And in fresh numbers number all your graces, +The age to come would say 'This poet lies: +Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.' +So should my papers yellow'd with their age +Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue, +And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage +And stretched metre of an antique song: + But were some child of yours alive that time, + You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme. + +XVIII. + +Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? +Thou art more lovely and more temperate: +Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, +And summer's lease hath all too short a date: +Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, +And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; +And every fair from fair sometime declines, +By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; +But thy eternal summer shall not fade +Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; +Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, +When in eternal lines to time thou growest: + So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, + So long lives this and this gives life to thee. + +XIX. + +Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, +And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; +Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, +And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood; +Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, +And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, +To the wide world and all her fading sweets; +But I forbid thee one most heinous crime: +O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, +Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; +Him in thy course untainted do allow +For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. + Yet, do thy worst, old Time: despite thy wrong, + My love shall in my verse ever live young. + +XX. + +A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted +Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; +A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted +With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; +An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, +Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; +A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling, +Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. +And for a woman wert thou first created; +Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, +And by addition me of thee defeated, +By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. + But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, + Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure. + +XXI. + +So is it not with me as with that Muse +Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse, +Who heaven itself for ornament doth use +And every fair with his fair doth rehearse +Making a couplement of proud compare, +With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, +With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare +That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems. +O' let me, true in love, but truly write, +And then believe me, my love is as fair +As any mother's child, though not so bright +As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air: + Let them say more than like of hearsay well; + I will not praise that purpose not to sell. + +XXII. + +My glass shall not persuade me I am old, +So long as youth and thou are of one date; +But when in thee time's furrows I behold, +Then look I death my days should expiate. +For all that beauty that doth cover thee +Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, +Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me: +How can I then be elder than thou art? +O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary +As I, not for myself, but for thee will; +Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary +As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. + Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain; + Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again. + +XXIII. + +As an unperfect actor on the stage +Who with his fear is put besides his part, +Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, +Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart. +So I, for fear of trust, forget to say +The perfect ceremony of love's rite, +And in mine own love's strength seem to decay, +O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might. +O, let my books be then the eloquence +And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, +Who plead for love and look for recompense +More than that tongue that more hath more express'd. + O, learn to read what silent love hath writ: + To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit. + +XXIV. + +Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd +Thy beauty's form in table of my heart; +My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, +And perspective it is the painter's art. +For through the painter must you see his skill, +To find where your true image pictured lies; +Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still, +That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes. +Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done: +Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me +Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun +Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; + Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art; + They draw but what they see, know not the heart. + +XXV. + +Let those who are in favour with their stars +Of public honour and proud titles boast, +Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars, +Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most. +Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread +But as the marigold at the sun's eye, +And in themselves their pride lies buried, +For at a frown they in their glory die. +The painful warrior famoused for fight, +After a thousand victories once foil'd, +Is from the book of honour razed quite, +And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd: + Then happy I, that love and am beloved + Where I may not remove nor be removed. + +XXVI. + +Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage +Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, +To thee I send this written embassage, +To witness duty, not to show my wit: +Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine +May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it, +But that I hope some good conceit of thine +In thy soul's thought, all naked, will bestow it; +Till whatsoever star that guides my moving +Points on me graciously with fair aspect +And puts apparel on my tatter'd loving, +To show me worthy of thy sweet respect: + Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee; + Till then not show my head where thou mayst prove me. + +XXVII. + +Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, +The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; +But then begins a journey in my head, +To work my mind, when body's work's expired: +For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, +Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, +And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, +Looking on darkness which the blind do see +Save that my soul's imaginary sight +Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, +Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, +Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. + Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, + For thee and for myself no quiet find. + +XXVIII. + +How can I then return in happy plight, +That am debarr'd the benefit of rest? +When day's oppression is not eased by night, +But day by night, and night by day, oppress'd? +And each, though enemies to either's reign, +Do in consent shake hands to torture me; +The one by toil, the other to complain +How far I toil, still farther off from thee. +I tell the day, to please them thou art bright +And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven: +So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night, +When sparkling stars twire not thou gild'st the even. +But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer + And night doth nightly make grief's strength + seem stronger. + +XXIX. + +When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, +I all alone beweep my outcast state +And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries +And look upon myself and curse my fate, +Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, +Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, +Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, +With what I most enjoy contented least; +Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, +Haply I think on thee, and then my state, +Like to the lark at break of day arising +From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; + For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings + That then I scorn to change my state with kings. + +XXX. + +When to the sessions of sweet silent thought +I summon up remembrance of things past, +I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, +And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: +Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, +For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, +And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, +And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: +Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, +And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er +The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, +Which I new pay as if not paid before. + But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, + All losses are restored and sorrows end. + +XXXI. + +Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, +Which I by lacking have supposed dead, +And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, +And all those friends which I thought buried. +How many a holy and obsequious tear +Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye +As interest of the dead, which now appear +But things removed that hidden in thee lie! +Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, +Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, +Who all their parts of me to thee did give; +That due of many now is thine alone: + Their images I loved I view in thee, + And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. + +XXXII. + +If thou survive my well-contented day, +When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, +And shalt by fortune once more re-survey +These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, +Compare them with the bettering of the time, +And though they be outstripp'd by every pen, +Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme, +Exceeded by the height of happier men. +O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought: +'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age, +A dearer birth than this his love had brought, +To march in ranks of better equipage: + But since he died and poets better prove, + Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.' + +XXXIII. + +Full many a glorious morning have I seen +Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, +Kissing with golden face the meadows green, +Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; +Anon permit the basest clouds to ride +With ugly rack on his celestial face, +And from the forlorn world his visage hide, +Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: +Even so my sun one early morn did shine +With all triumphant splendor on my brow; +But out, alack! he was but one hour mine; +The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. + Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth; + Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth. + +XXXIV. + +Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, +And make me travel forth without my cloak, +To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, +Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? +'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, +To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, +For no man well of such a salve can speak +That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace: +Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; +Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: +The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief +To him that bears the strong offence's cross. + Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, + And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds. + +XXXV. + +No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: +Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; +Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, +And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud. +All men make faults, and even I in this, +Authorizing thy trespass with compare, +Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss, +Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are; +For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense-- +Thy adverse party is thy advocate-- +And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence: +Such civil war is in my love and hate + That I an accessary needs must be + To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. + +XXXVI. + +Let me confess that we two must be twain, +Although our undivided loves are one: +So shall those blots that do with me remain +Without thy help by me be borne alone. +In our two loves there is but one respect, +Though in our lives a separable spite, +Which though it alter not love's sole effect, +Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight. +I may not evermore acknowledge thee, +Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, +Nor thou with public kindness honour me, +Unless thou take that honour from thy name: + But do not so; I love thee in such sort + As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. + +XXXVII. + +As a decrepit father takes delight +To see his active child do deeds of youth, +So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite, +Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth. +For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit, +Or any of these all, or all, or more, +Entitled in thy parts do crowned sit, +I make my love engrafted to this store: +So then I am not lame, poor, nor despised, +Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give +That I in thy abundance am sufficed +And by a part of all thy glory live. + Look, what is best, that best I wish in thee: + This wish I have; then ten times happy me! + +XXXVIII. + +How can my Muse want subject to invent, +While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse +Thine own sweet argument, too excellent +For every vulgar paper to rehearse? +O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me +Worthy perusal stand against thy sight; +For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee, +When thou thyself dost give invention light? +Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth +Than those old nine which rhymers invocate; +And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth +Eternal numbers to outlive long date. + If my slight Muse do please these curious days, + The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise. + +XXXIX. + +O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, +When thou art all the better part of me? +What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? +And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee? +Even for this let us divided live, +And our dear love lose name of single one, +That by this separation I may give +That due to thee which thou deservest alone. +O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove, +Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave +To entertain the time with thoughts of love, +Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive, + And that thou teachest how to make one twain, + By praising him here who doth hence remain! + +XL. + +Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; +What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? +No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; +All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. +Then if for my love thou my love receivest, +I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; +But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest +By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. +I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, +Although thou steal thee all my poverty; +And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief +To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. + Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, + Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. + +XLI. + +Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, +When I am sometime absent from thy heart, +Thy beauty and thy years full well befits, +For still temptation follows where thou art. +Gentle thou art and therefore to be won, +Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed; +And when a woman woos, what woman's son +Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed? +Ay me! but yet thou mightest my seat forbear, +And chide try beauty and thy straying youth, +Who lead thee in their riot even there +Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth, + Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee, + Thine, by thy beauty being false to me. + +XLII. + +That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, +And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; +That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, +A loss in love that touches me more nearly. +Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: +Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her; +And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, +Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. +If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, +And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; +Both find each other, and I lose both twain, +And both for my sake lay on me this cross: + But here's the joy; my friend and I are one; + Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone. + +XLIII. + +When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, +For all the day they view things unrespected; +But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee, +And darkly bright are bright in dark directed. +Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright, +How would thy shadow's form form happy show +To the clear day with thy much clearer light, +When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so! +How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made +By looking on thee in the living day, +When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade +Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay! + All days are nights to see till I see thee, + And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me. + +XLIV. + +If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, +Injurious distance should not stop my way; +For then despite of space I would be brought, +From limits far remote where thou dost stay. +No matter then although my foot did stand +Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; +For nimble thought can jump both sea and land +As soon as think the place where he would be. +But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought, +To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone, +But that so much of earth and water wrought +I must attend time's leisure with my moan, + Receiving nought by elements so slow + But heavy tears, badges of either's woe. + +XLV. + +The other two, slight air and purging fire, +Are both with thee, wherever I abide; +The first my thought, the other my desire, +These present-absent with swift motion slide. +For when these quicker elements are gone +In tender embassy of love to thee, +My life, being made of four, with two alone +Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; +Until life's composition be recured +By those swift messengers return'd from thee, +Who even but now come back again, assured +Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: + This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, + I send them back again and straight grow sad. + +XLVI. + +Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war +How to divide the conquest of thy sight; +Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, +My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. +My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie-- +A closet never pierced with crystal eyes-- +But the defendant doth that plea deny +And says in him thy fair appearance lies. +To 'cide this title is impanneled +A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, +And by their verdict is determined +The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part: + As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, + And my heart's right thy inward love of heart. + +XLVII. + +Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, +And each doth good turns now unto the other: +When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, +Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother, +With my love's picture then my eye doth feast +And to the painted banquet bids my heart; +Another time mine eye is my heart's guest +And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: +So, either by thy picture or my love, +Thyself away art resent still with me; +For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, +And I am still with them and they with thee; + Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight + Awakes my heart to heart's and eye's delight. + +XLVIII. + +How careful was I, when I took my way, +Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, +That to my use it might unused stay +From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! +But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, +Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief, +Thou, best of dearest and mine only care, +Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. +Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, +Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, +Within the gentle closure of my breast, +From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; + And even thence thou wilt be stol'n, I fear, + For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. + +XLIX. + +Against that time, if ever that time come, +When I shall see thee frown on my defects, +When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, +Call'd to that audit by advised respects; +Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass +And scarcely greet me with that sun thine eye, +When love, converted from the thing it was, +Shall reasons find of settled gravity,-- +Against that time do I ensconce me here +Within the knowledge of mine own desert, +And this my hand against myself uprear, +To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: + To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, + Since why to love I can allege no cause. + +L. + +How heavy do I journey on the way, +When what I seek, my weary travel's end, +Doth teach that ease and that repose to say +'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' +The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, +Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, +As if by some instinct the wretch did know +His rider loved not speed, being made from thee: +The bloody spur cannot provoke him on +That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide; +Which heavily he answers with a groan, +More sharp to me than spurring to his side; + For that same groan doth put this in my mind; + My grief lies onward and my joy behind. + +LI. + +Thus can my love excuse the slow offence +Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: +From where thou art why should I haste me thence? +Till I return, of posting is no need. +O, what excuse will my poor beast then find, +When swift extremity can seem but slow? +Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind; +In winged speed no motion shall I know: +Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; +Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made, +Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race; +But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade; + Since from thee going he went wilful-slow, + Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go. + +LII. + +So am I as the rich, whose blessed key +Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, +The which he will not every hour survey, +For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. +Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, +Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, +Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, +Or captain jewels in the carcanet. +So is the time that keeps you as my chest, +Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, +To make some special instant special blest, +By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. + Blessed are you, whose worthiness gives scope, + Being had, to triumph, being lack'd, to hope. + +LIII. + +What is your substance, whereof are you made, +That millions of strange shadows on you tend? +Since every one hath, every one, one shade, +And you, but one, can every shadow lend. +Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit +Is poorly imitated after you; +On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, +And you in Grecian tires are painted new: +Speak of the spring and foison of the year; +The one doth shadow of your beauty show, +The other as your bounty doth appear; +And you in every blessed shape we know. + In all external grace you have some part, + But you like none, none you, for constant heart. + +LIV. + +O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem +By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! +The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem +For that sweet odour which doth in it live. +The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye +As the perfumed tincture of the roses, +Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly +When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: +But, for their virtue only is their show, +They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, +Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; +Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: + And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, + When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth. + +LV. + +Not marble, nor the gilded monuments +Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; +But you shall shine more bright in these contents +Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time. +When wasteful war shall statues overturn, +And broils root out the work of masonry, +Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn +The living record of your memory. +'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity +Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room +Even in the eyes of all posterity +That wear this world out to the ending doom. + So, till the judgment that yourself arise, + You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes. + +LVI. + +Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said +Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, +Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, +To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might: +So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill +Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness, +To-morrow see again, and do not kill +The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. +Let this sad interim like the ocean be +Which parts the shore, where two contracted new +Come daily to the banks, that, when they see +Return of love, more blest may be the view; + Else call it winter, which being full of care + Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare. + +LVII. + +Being your slave, what should I do but tend +Upon the hours and times of your desire? +I have no precious time at all to spend, +Nor services to do, till you require. +Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour +Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, +Nor think the bitterness of absence sour +When you have bid your servant once adieu; +Nor dare I question with my jealous thought +Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, +But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought +Save, where you are how happy you make those. + So true a fool is love that in your will, + Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. + +LVIII. + +That god forbid that made me first your slave, +I should in thought control your times of pleasure, +Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, +Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! +O, let me suffer, being at your beck, +The imprison'd absence of your liberty; +And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, +Without accusing you of injury. +Be where you list, your charter is so strong +That you yourself may privilege your time +To what you will; to you it doth belong +Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. + I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; + Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. + +LIX. + +If there be nothing new, but that which is +Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, +Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss +The second burden of a former child! +O, that record could with a backward look, +Even of five hundred courses of the sun, +Show me your image in some antique book, +Since mind at first in character was done! +That I might see what the old world could say +To this composed wonder of your frame; +Whether we are mended, or whether better they, +Or whether revolution be the same. + O, sure I am, the wits of former days + To subjects worse have given admiring praise. + +LX. + +Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, +So do our minutes hasten to their end; +Each changing place with that which goes before, +In sequent toil all forwards do contend. +Nativity, once in the main of light, +Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, +Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, +And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. +Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth +And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, +Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, +And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: + And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, + Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. + +LXI. + +Is it thy will thy image should keep open +My heavy eyelids to the weary night? +Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, +While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? +Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee +So far from home into my deeds to pry, +To find out shames and idle hours in me, +The scope and tenor of thy jealousy? +O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: +It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; +Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, +To play the watchman ever for thy sake: + For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, + From me far off, with others all too near. + +LXII. + +Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye +And all my soul and all my every part; +And for this sin there is no remedy, +It is so grounded inward in my heart. +Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, +No shape so true, no truth of such account; +And for myself mine own worth do define, +As I all other in all worths surmount. +But when my glass shows me myself indeed, +Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, +Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; +Self so self-loving were iniquity. + 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, + Painting my age with beauty of thy days. + +LXIII. + +Against my love shall be, as I am now, +With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn; +When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow +With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn +Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, +And all those beauties whereof now he's king +Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, +Stealing away the treasure of his spring; +For such a time do I now fortify +Against confounding age's cruel knife, +That he shall never cut from memory +My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: + His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, + And they shall live, and he in them still green. + +LXIV. + +When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced +The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; +When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed +And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; +When I have seen the hungry ocean gain +Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, +And the firm soil win of the watery main, +Increasing store with loss and loss with store; +When I have seen such interchange of state, +Or state itself confounded to decay; +Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, +That Time will come and take my love away. + This thought is as a death, which cannot choose + But weep to have that which it fears to lose. + +LXV. + +Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, +But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, +How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, +Whose action is no stronger than a flower? +O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out +Against the wreckful siege of battering days, +When rocks impregnable are not so stout, +Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? +O fearful meditation! where, alack, +Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? +Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back? +Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? + O, none, unless this miracle have might, + That in black ink my love may still shine bright. + +LXVI. + +Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, +As, to behold desert a beggar born, +And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, +And purest faith unhappily forsworn, +And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, +And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, +And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, +And strength by limping sway disabled, +And art made tongue-tied by authority, +And folly doctor-like controlling skill, +And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, +And captive good attending captain ill: + Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, + Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. + +LXVII. + +Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, +And with his presence grace impiety, +That sin by him advantage should achieve +And lace itself with his society? +Why should false painting imitate his cheek +And steal dead seeing of his living hue? +Why should poor beauty indirectly seek +Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? +Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, +Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? +For she hath no exchequer now but his, +And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. + O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had + In days long since, before these last so bad. + +LXVIII. + +Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, +When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, +Before the bastard signs of fair were born, +Or durst inhabit on a living brow; +Before the golden tresses of the dead, +The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, +To live a second life on second head; +Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: +In him those holy antique hours are seen, +Without all ornament, itself and true, +Making no summer of another's green, +Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; + And him as for a map doth Nature store, + To show false Art what beauty was of yore. + +LXIX. + +Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view +Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; +All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, +Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. +Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; +But those same tongues that give thee so thine own +In other accents do this praise confound +By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. +They look into the beauty of thy mind, +And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; +Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind, +To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: + But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, + The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. + +LXX. + +That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, +For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; +The ornament of beauty is suspect, +A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. +So thou be good, slander doth but approve +Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; +For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, +And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. +Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, +Either not assail'd or victor being charged; +Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, +To tie up envy evermore enlarged: + If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, + Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. + +LXXI. + +No longer mourn for me when I am dead +Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell +Give warning to the world that I am fled +From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: +Nay, if you read this line, remember not +The hand that writ it; for I love you so +That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot +If thinking on me then should make you woe. +O, if, I say, you look upon this verse +When I perhaps compounded am with clay, +Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. +But let your love even with my life decay, + Lest the wise world should look into your moan + And mock you with me after I am gone. + +LXXII. + +O, lest the world should task you to recite +What merit lived in me, that you should love +After my death, dear love, forget me quite, +For you in me can nothing worthy prove; +Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, +To do more for me than mine own desert, +And hang more praise upon deceased I +Than niggard truth would willingly impart: +O, lest your true love may seem false in this, +That you for love speak well of me untrue, +My name be buried where my body is, +And live no more to shame nor me nor you. + For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, + And so should you, to love things nothing worth. + +LXXIII. + +That time of year thou mayst in me behold +When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang +Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, +Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. +In me thou seest the twilight of such day +As after sunset fadeth in the west, +Which by and by black night doth take away, +Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. +In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire +That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, +As the death-bed whereon it must expire +Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. + This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, + To love that well which thou must leave ere long. + +LXXIV. + +But be contented: when that fell arrest +Without all bail shall carry me away, +My life hath in this line some interest, +Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. +When thou reviewest this, thou dost review +The very part was consecrate to thee: +The earth can have but earth, which is his due; +My spirit is thine, the better part of me: +So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, +The prey of worms, my body being dead, +The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, +Too base of thee to be remembered. + The worth of that is that which it contains, + And that is this, and this with thee remains. + +LXXV. + +So are you to my thoughts as food to life, +Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; +And for the peace of you I hold such strife +As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; +Now proud as an enjoyer and anon +Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure, +Now counting best to be with you alone, +Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure; +Sometime all full with feasting on your sight +And by and by clean starved for a look; +Possessing or pursuing no delight, +Save what is had or must from you be took. + Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, + Or gluttoning on all, or all away. + +LXXVI. + +Why is my verse so barren of new pride, +So far from variation or quick change? +Why with the time do I not glance aside +To new-found methods and to compounds strange? +Why write I still all one, ever the same, +And keep invention in a noted weed, +That every word doth almost tell my name, +Showing their birth and where they did proceed? +O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, +And you and love are still my argument; +So all my best is dressing old words new, +Spending again what is already spent: + For as the sun is daily new and old, + So is my love still telling what is told. + +LXXVII. + +Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, +Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; +The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, +And of this book this learning mayst thou taste. +The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show +Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; +Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know +Time's thievish progress to eternity. +Look, what thy memory can not contain +Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find +Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, +To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. + These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, + Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. + +LXXVIII. + +So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse +And found such fair assistance in my verse +As every alien pen hath got my use +And under thee their poesy disperse. +Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing +And heavy ignorance aloft to fly +Have added feathers to the learned's wing +And given grace a double majesty. +Yet be most proud of that which I compile, +Whose influence is thine and born of thee: +In others' works thou dost but mend the style, +And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; + But thou art all my art and dost advance + As high as learning my rude ignorance. + +LXXIX. + +Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, +My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, +But now my gracious numbers are decay'd +And my sick Muse doth give another place. +I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument +Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, +Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent +He robs thee of and pays it thee again. +He lends thee virtue and he stole that word +From thy behavior; beauty doth he give +And found it in thy cheek; he can afford +No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. + Then thank him not for that which he doth say, + Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay. + +LXXX. + +O, how I faint when I of you do write, +Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, +And in the praise thereof spends all his might, +To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! +But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, +The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, +My saucy bark inferior far to his +On your broad main doth wilfully appear. +Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, +Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; +Or being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat, +He of tall building and of goodly pride: + Then if he thrive and I be cast away, + The worst was this; my love was my decay. + +LXXXI. + +Or I shall live your epitaph to make, +Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; +From hence your memory death cannot take, +Although in me each part will be forgotten. +Your name from hence immortal life shall have, +Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: +The earth can yield me but a common grave, +When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. +Your monument shall be my gentle verse, +Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, +And tongues to be your being shall rehearse +When all the breathers of this world are dead; + You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen-- + Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. + +LXXXII. + +I grant thou wert not married to my Muse +And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook +The dedicated words which writers use +Of their fair subject, blessing every book +Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, +Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, +And therefore art enforced to seek anew +Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days +And do so, love; yet when they have devised +What strained touches rhetoric can lend, +Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized +In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; + And their gross painting might be better used + Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused. + +LXXXIII. + +I never saw that you did painting need +And therefore to your fair no painting set; +I found, or thought I found, you did exceed +The barren tender of a poet's debt; +And therefore have I slept in your report, +That you yourself being extant well might show +How far a modern quill doth come too short, +Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. +This silence for my sin you did impute, +Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; +For I impair not beauty being mute, +When others would give life and bring a tomb. + There lives more life in one of your fair eyes + Than both your poets can in praise devise. + +LXXXIV. + +Who is it that says most? which can say more +Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? +In whose confine immured is the store +Which should example where your equal grew. +Lean penury within that pen doth dwell +That to his subject lends not some small glory; +But he that writes of you, if he can tell +That you are you, so dignifies his story, +Let him but copy what in you is writ, +Not making worse what nature made so clear, +And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, +Making his style admired every where. + You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, + Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse. + +LXXXV. + +My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, +While comments of your praise, richly compiled, +Reserve their character with golden quill +And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. +I think good thoughts whilst other write good words, +And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen' +To every hymn that able spirit affords +In polish'd form of well-refined pen. +Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,' +And to the most of praise add something more; +But that is in my thought, whose love to you, +Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before. + Then others for the breath of words respect, + Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect. + +LXXXVI. + +Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, +Bound for the prize of all too precious you, +That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, +Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? +Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write +Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? +No, neither he, nor his compeers by night +Giving him aid, my verse astonished. +He, nor that affable familiar ghost +Which nightly gulls him with intelligence +As victors of my silence cannot boast; +I was not sick of any fear from thence: + But when your countenance fill'd up his line, + Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine. + +LXXXVII. + +Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, +And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: +The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; +My bonds in thee are all determinate. +For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? +And for that riches where is my deserving? +The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, +And so my patent back again is swerving. +Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing, +Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; +So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, +Comes home again, on better judgment making. + Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, + In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. + +LXXXVIII. + +When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, +And place my merit in the eye of scorn, +Upon thy side against myself I'll fight, +And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. +With mine own weakness being best acquainted, +Upon thy part I can set down a story +Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted, +That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: +And I by this will be a gainer too; +For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, +The injuries that to myself I do, +Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. + Such is my love, to thee I so belong, + That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. + +LXXXIX. + +Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, +And I will comment upon that offence; +Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, +Against thy reasons making no defence. +Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, +To set a form upon desired change, +As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, +I will acquaintance strangle and look strange, +Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue +Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, +Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong +And haply of our old acquaintance tell. + For thee against myself I'll vow debate, + For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. + +XC. + +Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; +Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, +Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, +And do not drop in for an after-loss: +Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped this sorrow, +Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; +Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, +To linger out a purposed overthrow. +If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, +When other petty griefs have done their spite +But in the onset come; so shall I taste +At first the very worst of fortune's might, + And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, + Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. + +XCI. + +Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, +Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force, +Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, +Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse; +And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, +Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: +But these particulars are not my measure; +All these I better in one general best. +Thy love is better than high birth to me, +Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, +Of more delight than hawks or horses be; +And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: + Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take + All this away and me most wretched make. + +XCII. + +But do thy worst to steal thyself away, +For term of life thou art assured mine, +And life no longer than thy love will stay, +For it depends upon that love of thine. +Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, +When in the least of them my life hath end. +I see a better state to me belongs +Than that which on thy humour doth depend; +Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, +Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. +O, what a happy title do I find, +Happy to have thy love, happy to die! + But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? + Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. + +XCIII. + +So shall I live, supposing thou art true, +Like a deceived husband; so love's face +May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; +Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: +For there can live no hatred in thine eye, +Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. +In many's looks the false heart's history +Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, +But heaven in thy creation did decree +That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; +Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, +Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. + How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, + if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! + +XCIV. + +They that have power to hurt and will do none, +That do not do the thing they most do show, +Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, +Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, +They rightly do inherit heaven's graces +And husband nature's riches from expense; +They are the lords and owners of their faces, +Others but stewards of their excellence. +The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, +Though to itself it only live and die, +But if that flower with base infection meet, +The basest weed outbraves his dignity: + For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; + Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. + +XCV. + +How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame +Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, +Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! +O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! +That tongue that tells the story of thy days, +Making lascivious comments on thy sport, +Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; +Naming thy name blesses an ill report. +O, what a mansion have those vices got +Which for their habitation chose out thee, +Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, +And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! + Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; + The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge. + +XCVI. + +Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; +Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; +Both grace and faults are loved of more and less; +Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. +As on the finger of a throned queen +The basest jewel will be well esteem'd, +So are those errors that in thee are seen +To truths translated and for true things deem'd. +How many lambs might the stem wolf betray, +If like a lamb he could his looks translate! +How many gazers mightst thou lead away, +If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! + But do not so; I love thee in such sort + As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. + +XCVII. + +How like a winter hath my absence been +From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! +What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! +What old December's bareness every where! +And yet this time removed was summer's time, +The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, +Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, +Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease: +Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me +But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; +For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, +And, thou away, the very birds are mute; + Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer + That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near. + +XCVIII. + +From you have I been absent in the spring, +When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim +Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, +That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. +Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell +Of different flowers in odour and in hue +Could make me any summer's story tell, +Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; +Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, +Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; +They were but sweet, but figures of delight, +Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. + Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, + As with your shadow I with these did play: + +XCIX. + +The forward violet thus did I chide: +Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, +If not from my love's breath? The purple pride +Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells +In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. +The lily I condemned for thy hand, +And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: +The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, +One blushing shame, another white despair; +A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both +And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; +But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth +A vengeful canker eat him up to death. + More flowers I noted, yet I none could see + But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. + +C. + +Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long +To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? +Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, +Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? +Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem +In gentle numbers time so idly spent; +Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem +And gives thy pen both skill and argument. +Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, +If Time have any wrinkle graven there; +If any, be a satire to decay, +And make Time's spoils despised every where. + Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life; + So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife. + +CI. + +O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends +For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? +Both truth and beauty on my love depends; +So dost thou too, and therein dignified. +Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say +'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; +Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; +But best is best, if never intermix'd?' +Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? +Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee +To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, +And to be praised of ages yet to be. + Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how + To make him seem long hence as he shows now. + +CII. + +My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; +I love not less, though less the show appear: +That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming +The owner's tongue doth publish every where. +Our love was new and then but in the spring +When I was wont to greet it with my lays, +As Philomel in summer's front doth sing +And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: +Not that the summer is less pleasant now +Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, +But that wild music burthens every bough +And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. + Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, + Because I would not dull you with my song. + +CIII. + +Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, +That having such a scope to show her pride, +The argument all bare is of more worth +Than when it hath my added praise beside! +O, blame me not, if I no more can write! +Look in your glass, and there appears a face +That over-goes my blunt invention quite, +Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. +Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, +To mar the subject that before was well? +For to no other pass my verses tend +Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; + And more, much more, than in my verse can sit + Your own glass shows you when you look in it. + +CIV. + +To me, fair friend, you never can be old, +For as you were when first your eye I eyed, +Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold +Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, +Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd +In process of the seasons have I seen, +Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, +Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. +Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, +Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; +So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, +Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: + For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; + Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. + +CV. + +Let not my love be call'd idolatry, +Nor my beloved as an idol show, +Since all alike my songs and praises be +To one, of one, still such, and ever so. +Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, +Still constant in a wondrous excellence; +Therefore my verse to constancy confined, +One thing expressing, leaves out difference. +'Fair, kind and true' is all my argument, +'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; +And in this change is my invention spent, +Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. + 'Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone, + Which three till now never kept seat in one. + +CVI. + +When in the chronicle of wasted time +I see descriptions of the fairest wights, +And beauty making beautiful old rhyme +In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, +Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, +Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, +I see their antique pen would have express'd +Even such a beauty as you master now. +So all their praises are but prophecies +Of this our time, all you prefiguring; +And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, +They had not skill enough your worth to sing: + For we, which now behold these present days, + Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. + +CVII. + +Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul +Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, +Can yet the lease of my true love control, +Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. +The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured +And the sad augurs mock their own presage; +Incertainties now crown themselves assured +And peace proclaims olives of endless age. +Now with the drops of this most balmy time +My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, +Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, +While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: + And thou in this shalt find thy monument, + When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. + +CVIII. + +What's in the brain that ink may character +Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? +What's new to speak, what new to register, +That may express my love or thy dear merit? +Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, +I must, each day say o'er the very same, +Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, +Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. +So that eternal love in love's fresh case +Weighs not the dust and injury of age, +Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, +But makes antiquity for aye his page, + Finding the first conceit of love there bred + Where time and outward form would show it dead. + +CIX. + +O, never say that I was false of heart, +Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. +As easy might I from myself depart +As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: +That is my home of love: if I have ranged, +Like him that travels I return again, +Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, +So that myself bring water for my stain. +Never believe, though in my nature reign'd +All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, +That it could so preposterously be stain'd, +To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; + For nothing this wide universe I call, + Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. + +CX. + +Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there +And made myself a motley to the view, +Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, +Made old offences of affections new; +Most true it is that I have look'd on truth +Askance and strangely: but, by all above, +These blenches gave my heart another youth, +And worse essays proved thee my best of love. +Now all is done, have what shall have no end: +Mine appetite I never more will grind +On newer proof, to try an older friend, +A god in love, to whom I am confined. + Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, + Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. + +CXI. + +O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, +The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, +That did not better for my life provide +Than public means which public manners breeds. +Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, +And almost thence my nature is subdued +To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: +Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; +Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink +Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection +No bitterness that I will bitter think, +Nor double penance, to correct correction. + Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye + Even that your pity is enough to cure me. + +CXII. + +Your love and pity doth the impression fill +Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; +For what care I who calls me well or ill, +So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? +You are my all the world, and I must strive +To know my shames and praises from your tongue: +None else to me, nor I to none alive, +That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. +In so profound abysm I throw all care +Of others' voices, that my adder's sense +To critic and to flatterer stopped are. +Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: + You are so strongly in my purpose bred + That all the world besides methinks are dead. + +CXIII. + +Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; +And that which governs me to go about +Doth part his function and is partly blind, +Seems seeing, but effectually is out; +For it no form delivers to the heart +Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch: +Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, +Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: +For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, +The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, +The mountain or the sea, the day or night, +The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature: + Incapable of more, replete with you, + My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue. + +CXIV. + +Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, +Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? +Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, +And that your love taught it this alchemy, +To make of monsters and things indigest +Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, +Creating every bad a perfect best, +As fast as objects to his beams assemble? +O,'tis the first; 'tis flattery in my seeing, +And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: +Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, +And to his palate doth prepare the cup: + If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin + That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. + +CXV. + +Those lines that I before have writ do lie, +Even those that said I could not love you dearer: +Yet then my judgment knew no reason why +My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. +But reckoning time, whose million'd accidents +Creep in 'twixt vows and change decrees of kings, +Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, +Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; +Alas, why, fearing of time's tyranny, +Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,' +When I was certain o'er incertainty, +Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? + Love is a babe; then might I not say so, + To give full growth to that which still doth grow? + +CXVI. + +Let me not to the marriage of true minds +Admit impediments. Love is not love +Which alters when it alteration finds, +Or bends with the remover to remove: +O no! it is an ever-fixed mark +That looks on tempests and is never shaken; +It is the star to every wandering bark, +Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. +Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks +Within his bending sickle's compass come: +Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, +But bears it out even to the edge of doom. + If this be error and upon me proved, + I never writ, nor no man ever loved. + +CXVII. + +Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all +Wherein I should your great deserts repay, +Forgot upon your dearest love to call, +Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; +That I have frequent been with unknown minds +And given to time your own dear-purchased right +That I have hoisted sail to all the winds +Which should transport me farthest from your sight. +Book both my wilfulness and errors down +And on just proof surmise accumulate; +Bring me within the level of your frown, +But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; + Since my appeal says I did strive to prove + The constancy and virtue of your love. + +CXVIII. + +Like as, to make our appetites more keen, +With eager compounds we our palate urge, +As, to prevent our maladies unseen, +We sicken to shun sickness when we purge, +Even so, being tuff of your ne'er-cloying sweetness, +To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding +And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness +To be diseased ere that there was true needing. +Thus policy in love, to anticipate +The ills that were not, grew to faults assured +And brought to medicine a healthful state +Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: + But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, + Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you. + +CXIX. + +What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, +Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, +Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, +Still losing when I saw myself to win! +What wretched errors hath my heart committed, +Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! +How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted +In the distraction of this madding fever! +O benefit of ill! now I find true +That better is by evil still made better; +And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, +Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater. + So I return rebuked to my content + And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. + +CXX. + +That you were once unkind befriends me now, +And for that sorrow which I then did feel +Needs must I under my transgression bow, +Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. +For if you were by my unkindness shaken +As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time, +And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken +To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. +O, that our night of woe might have remember'd +My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, +And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd +The humble slave which wounded bosoms fits! + But that your trespass now becomes a fee; + Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. + +CXXI. + +'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, +When not to be receives reproach of being, +And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd +Not by our feeling but by others' seeing: +For why should others false adulterate eyes +Give salutation to my sportive blood? +Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, +Which in their wills count bad what I think good? +No, I am that I am, and they that level +At my abuses reckon up their own: +I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel; +By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown; + Unless this general evil they maintain, + All men are bad, and in their badness reign. + +CXXII. + +Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain +Full character'd with lasting memory, +Which shall above that idle rank remain +Beyond all date, even to eternity; +Or at the least, so long as brain and heart +Have faculty by nature to subsist; +Till each to razed oblivion yield his part +Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. +That poor retention could not so much hold, +Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; +Therefore to give them from me was I bold, +To trust those tables that receive thee more: + To keep an adjunct to remember thee + Were to import forgetfulness in me. + +CXXIII. + +No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: +Thy pyramids built up with newer might +To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; +They are but dressings of a former sight. +Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire +What thou dost foist upon us that is old, +And rather make them born to our desire +Than think that we before have heard them told. +Thy registers and thee I both defy, +Not wondering at the present nor the past, +For thy records and what we see doth lie, +Made more or less by thy continual haste. + This I do vow and this shall ever be; + I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. + +CXXIV. + +If my dear love were but the child of state, +It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' +As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, +Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. +No, it was builded far from accident; +It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls +Under the blow of thralled discontent, +Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: +It fears not policy, that heretic, +Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, +But all alone stands hugely politic, +That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. + To this I witness call the fools of time, + Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. + +CXXV. + +Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, +With my extern the outward honouring, +Or laid great bases for eternity, +Which prove more short than waste or ruining? +Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour +Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, +For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, +Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? +No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, +And take thou my oblation, poor but free, +Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, +But mutual render, only me for thee. + Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul + When most impeach'd stands least in thy control. + +CXXVI. + +O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power +Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; +Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st +Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; +If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, +As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back, +She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill +May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. +Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! +She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure: + Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, + And her quietus is to render thee. + +CXXVII. + +In the old age black was not counted fair, +Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; +But now is black beauty's successive heir, +And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: +For since each hand hath put on nature's power, +Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, +Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, +But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. +Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, +Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem +At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, +Slandering creation with a false esteem: + Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, + That every tongue says beauty should look so. + +CXXVIII. + +How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, +Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds +With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st +The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, +Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap +To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, +Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, +At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! +To be so tickled, they would change their state +And situation with those dancing chips, +O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, +Making dead wood more blest than living lips. + Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, + Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. + +CXXIX. + +The expense of spirit in a waste of shame +Is lust in action; and till action, lust +Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, +Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, +Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, +Past reason hunted, and no sooner had +Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait +On purpose laid to make the taker mad; +Mad in pursuit and in possession so; +Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; +A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; +Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. + All this the world well knows; yet none knows well + To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. + +CXXX. + +My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; +Coral is far more red than her lips' red; +If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; +If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. +I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, +But no such roses see I in her cheeks; +And in some perfumes is there more delight +Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. +I love to hear her speak, yet well I know +That music hath a far more pleasing sound; +I grant I never saw a goddess go; +My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: + And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare + As any she belied with false compare. + +CXXXI. + +Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, +As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; +For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart +Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. +Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold +Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: +To say they err I dare not be so bold, +Although I swear it to myself alone. +And, to be sure that is not false I swear, +A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, +One on another's neck, do witness bear +Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. + In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, + And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. + +CXXXII. + +Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, +Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, +Have put on black and loving mourners be, +Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. +And truly not the morning sun of heaven +Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, +Nor that full star that ushers in the even +Doth half that glory to the sober west, +As those two mourning eyes become thy face: +O, let it then as well beseem thy heart +To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, +And suit thy pity like in every part. + Then will I swear beauty herself is black + And all they foul that thy complexion lack. + +CXXXIII. + +Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan +For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! +Is't not enough to torture me alone, +But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? +Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, +And my next self thou harder hast engross'd: +Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; +A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. +Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, +But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail; +Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; +Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol: + And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, + Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. + +CXXXIV. + +So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, +And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, +Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine +Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: +But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, +For thou art covetous and he is kind; +He learn'd but surety-like to write for me +Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. +The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, +Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, +And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; +So him I lose through my unkind abuse. + Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: + He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. + +CXXXV. + +Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' +And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; +More than enough am I that vex thee still, +To thy sweet will making addition thus. +Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, +Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? +Shall will in others seem right gracious, +And in my will no fair acceptance shine? +The sea all water, yet receives rain still +And in abundance addeth to his store; +So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will' +One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more. + Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; + Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.' + +CXXXVI. + +If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, +Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,' +And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; +Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. +'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love, +Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. +In things of great receipt with ease we prove +Among a number one is reckon'd none: +Then in the number let me pass untold, +Though in thy stores' account I one must be; +For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold +That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: + Make but my name thy love, and love that still, + And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.' + +CXXXVII. + +Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, +That they behold, and see not what they see? +They know what beauty is, see where it lies, +Yet what the best is take the worst to be. +If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks +Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, +Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, +Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? +Why should my heart think that a several plot +Which my heart knows the wide world's common place? +Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, +To put fair truth upon so foul a face? + In things right true my heart and eyes have erred, + And to this false plague are they now transferr'd. + +CXXXVIII. + +When my love swears that she is made of truth +I do believe her, though I know she lies, +That she might think me some untutor'd youth, +Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. +Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, +Although she knows my days are past the best, +Simply I credit her false speaking tongue: +On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. +But wherefore says she not she is unjust? +And wherefore say not I that I am old? +O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, +And age in love loves not to have years told: + Therefore I lie with her and she with me, + And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be. + +CXXXIX. + +O, call not me to justify the wrong +That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; +Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; +Use power with power and slay me not by art. +Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, +Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: +What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might +Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide? +Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows +Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, +And therefore from my face she turns my foes, +That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: + Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, + Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain. + +CXL. + +Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press +My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; +Lest sorrow lend me words and words express +The manner of my pity-wanting pain. +If I might teach thee wit, better it were, +Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; +As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, +No news but health from their physicians know; +For if I should despair, I should grow mad, +And in my madness might speak ill of thee: +Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, +Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be, + That I may not be so, nor thou belied, + Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide. + +CXLI. + +In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, +For they in thee a thousand errors note; +But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, +Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; +Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, +Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, +Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited +To any sensual feast with thee alone: +But my five wits nor my five senses can +Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, +Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, +Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be: + Only my plague thus far I count my gain, + That she that makes me sin awards me pain. + +CXLII. + +Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, +Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: +O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, +And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; +Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, +That have profaned their scarlet ornaments +And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, +Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. +Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those +Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: +Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows +Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. + If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, + By self-example mayst thou be denied! + +CXLIII. + +Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch +One of her feather'd creatures broke away, +Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch +In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, +Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, +Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent +To follow that which flies before her face, +Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; +So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, +Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; +But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, +And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: + So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,' + If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. + +CXLIV. + +Two loves I have of comfort and despair, +Which like two spirits do suggest me still: +The better angel is a man right fair, +The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. +To win me soon to hell, my female evil +Tempteth my better angel from my side, +And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, +Wooing his purity with her foul pride. +And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend +Suspect I may, but not directly tell; +But being both from me, both to each friend, +I guess one angel in another's hell: + Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, + Till my bad angel fire my good one out. + +CXLV. + +Those lips that Love's own hand did make +Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate' +To me that languish'd for her sake; +But when she saw my woeful state, +Straight in her heart did mercy come, +Chiding that tongue that ever sweet +Was used in giving gentle doom, +And taught it thus anew to greet: +'I hate' she alter'd with an end, +That follow'd it as gentle day +Doth follow night, who like a fiend +From heaven to hell is flown away; + 'I hate' from hate away she threw, + And saved my life, saying 'not you.' + +CXLVI. + +Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, +[ ] these rebel powers that thee array; +Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, +Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? +Why so large cost, having so short a lease, +Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? +Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, +Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? +Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, +And let that pine to aggravate thy store; +Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; +Within be fed, without be rich no more: + So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, + And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. + +CXLVII. + +My love is as a fever, longing still +For that which longer nurseth the disease, +Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, +The uncertain sickly appetite to please. +My reason, the physician to my love, +Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, +Hath left me, and I desperate now approve +Desire is death, which physic did except. +Past cure I am, now reason is past care, +And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; +My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, +At random from the truth vainly express'd; + For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, + Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. + +CXLVIII. + +O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, +Which have no correspondence with true sight! +Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, +That censures falsely what they see aright? +If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, +What means the world to say it is not so? +If it be not, then love doth well denote +Love's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.' +How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true, +That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? +No marvel then, though I mistake my view; +The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. + O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, + Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. + +CXLIX. + +Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, +When I against myself with thee partake? +Do I not think on thee, when I forgot +Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? +Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? +On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? +Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend +Revenge upon myself with present moan? +What merit do I in myself respect, +That is so proud thy service to despise, +When all my best doth worship thy defect, +Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? + But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; + Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind. + +CL. + +O, from what power hast thou this powerful might +With insufficiency my heart to sway? +To make me give the lie to my true sight, +And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? +Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, +That in the very refuse of thy deeds +There is such strength and warrantize of skill +That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? +Who taught thee how to make me love thee more +The more I hear and see just cause of hate? +O, though I love what others do abhor, +With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: + If thy unworthiness raised love in me, + More worthy I to be beloved of thee. + +CLI. + +Love is too young to know what conscience is; +Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? +Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, +Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: +For, thou betraying me, I do betray +My nobler part to my gross body's treason; +My soul doth tell my body that he may +Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason; +But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee +As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, +He is contented thy poor drudge to be, +To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. + No want of conscience hold it that I call + Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall. + +CLII. + +In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, +But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing, +In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn, +In vowing new hate after new love bearing. +But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, +When I break twenty? I am perjured most; +For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee +And all my honest faith in thee is lost, +For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, +Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, +And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, +Or made them swear against the thing they see; + For I have sworn thee fair; more perjured I, + To swear against the truth so foul a lie! + +CLIII. + +Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: +A maid of Dian's this advantage found, +And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep +In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; +Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love +A dateless lively heat, still to endure, +And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove +Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. +But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, +The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; +I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, +And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, + But found no cure: the bath for my help lies + Where Cupid got new fire--my mistress' eyes. + +CLIV. + +The little Love-god lying once asleep +Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, +Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep +Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand +The fairest votary took up that fire +Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; +And so the general of hot desire +Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. +This brand she quenched in a cool well by, +Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, +Growing a bath and healthful remedy +For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, + Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, + Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. + THE PASSIONATE PILGRIM + + + +I. + +WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth, +I do believe her, though I know she lies, +That she might think me some untutor'd youth, +Unskilful in the world's false forgeries. +Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, +Although I know my years be past the best, +I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue, +Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest. +But wherefore says my love that she is young? +And wherefore say not I that I am old? +O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue, +And age, in love, loves not to have years told. +Therefore I'll lie with love, and love with me, +Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be. + + +II. + +Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, +That like two spirits do suggest me still; +My better angel is a man right fair, +My worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. +To win me soon to hell, my female evil +Tempteth my better angel from my side, +And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, +Wooing his purity with her fair pride. +And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, +Suspect I may, yet not directly tell: +For being both to me, both to each friend, +I guess one angel in another's hell; +The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, +Till my bad angel fire my good one out. + + +III. + +Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, +'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument, +Persuade my heart to this false perjury? +Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. +A woman I forswore; but I will prove, +Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: +My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; +Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. +My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is; +Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine, +Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is: +If broken, then it is no fault of mine. +If by me broke, what fool is not so wise +To break an oath, to win a paradise? + + +IV. + +Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook +With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green, +Did court the lad with many a lovely look, +Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen. +She told him stories to delight his ear; +She showed him favors to allure his eye; +To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there,-- +Touches so soft still conquer chastity. +But whether unripe years did want conceit, +Or he refused to take her figured proffer, +The tender nibbler would not touch the bait, +But smile and jest at every gentle offer: +Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward: +He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward! + + +V. + +If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? +O never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd: +Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll constant prove; +Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bow'd. +Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, +Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend. +If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice; +Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend; +All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; +Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire: +Thine eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful +thunder, +Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. +Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong, +To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. + + +VI. + +Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn, +And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade, +When Cytherea, all in love forlorn, +A longing tarriance for Adonis made +Under an osier growing by a brook, +A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen: +Hot was the day; she hotter that did look +For his approach, that often there had been. +Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by, +And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim: +The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye, +Yet not so wistly as this queen on him. +He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood: +'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood!' + + +VII. + +Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle; +Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; +Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle; +Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty: +A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, +None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. + +Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, +Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing! +How many tales to please me hath she coined, +Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing! +Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, +Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings. + +She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth; +She burn'd out love, as soon as straw outburneth; +She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing; +She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning. +Was this a lover, or a lecher whether? +Bad in the best, though excellent in neither. + + +VIII. + +If music and sweet poetry agree, +As they must needs, the sister and the brother, +Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me, +Because thou lovest the one, and I the other. +Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch +Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; +Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such +As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. +Thou lovest to hear the sweet melodious sound +That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes; +And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd +When as himself to singing he betakes. +One god is god of both, as poets feign; +One knight loves both, and both in thee remain. + + +IX. + +Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love, +[ ] +Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, +For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild; +Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: +Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; +She, silly queen, with more than love's good will, +Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds: +'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth +Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, +Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! +See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore.' +She showed hers: he saw more wounds than one, +And blushing fled, and left her all alone. + + +X. + +Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded, +Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring! +Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded! +Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting! +Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, +And falls, through wind, before the fall should be. + +I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have; +For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will: +And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave; +For why I craved nothing of thee still: +O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee, +Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me. + + +XI. + +Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her +Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him: +She told the youngling how god Mars did try her, +And as he fell to her, so fell she to him. +'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god embraced me,' +And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms; +'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god unlaced me,' +As if the boy should use like loving charms; +'Even thus,' quoth she, 'he seized on my lips,' +And with her lips on his did act the seizure: +And as she fetched breath, away he skips, +And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure. +Ah, that I had my lady at this bay, +To kiss and clip me till I run away! + + +XII. + +Crabbed age and youth cannot live together: +Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care; +Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; +Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. +Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; +Youth is nimble, age is lame; +Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; +Youth is wild, and age is tame. +Age, I do abhor thee; youth, I do adore thee; +O, my love, my love is young! +Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee, +For methinks thou stay'st too long, + + +XIII. + +Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; +A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly; +A flower that dies when first it gins to bud; +A brittle glass that's broken presently: +A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, +Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. + +And as goods lost are seld or never found, +As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh, +As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground, +As broken glass no cement can redress, +So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost, +In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost. + + +XIV. + +Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share: +She bade good night that kept my rest away; +And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care, +To descant on the doubts of my decay. +'Farewell,' quoth she, 'and come again tomorrow:' +Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow. + +Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile, +In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether: +'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile, +'T may be, again to make me wander thither: +'Wander,' a word for shadows like myself, +As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf. + + +XV. + +Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east! +My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise +Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. +Not daring trust the office of mine eyes, +While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark, +And wish her lays were tuned like the lark; + +For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty, +And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: +The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty; +Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight; +Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow; +For why, she sigh'd and bade me come tomorrow. + +Were I with her, the night would post too soon; +But now are minutes added to the hours; +To spite me now, each minute seems a moon; +Yet not for me, shine sun to succor flowers! +Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow: +Short, night, to-night, and length thyself tomorrow. + + + + SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC + + +XVI. + +IT was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three, +That liked of her master as well as well might be, +Till looking on an Englishman, the fair'st that eye could see, +Her fancy fell a-turning. + +Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight, +To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight: +To put in practise either, alas, it was a spite +Unto the silly damsel! + +But one must be refused; more mickle was the pain +That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain, +For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain: +Alas, she could not help it! + +Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day, +Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away: +Then, lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay; +For now my song is ended. + + +XVII. + +On a day, alack the day! +Love, whose month was ever May, +Spied a blossom passing fair, +Playing in the wanton air: +Through the velvet leaves the wind +All unseen, gan passage find; +That the lover, sick to death, +Wish'd himself the heaven's breath, +'Air,' quoth he, 'thy cheeks may blow; +Air, would I might triumph so! +But, alas! my hand hath sworn +Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: +Vow, alack! for youth unmeet: +Youth, so apt to pluck a sweet. +Thou for whom Jove would swear +Juno but an Ethiope were; +And deny himself for Jove, +Turning mortal for thy love.' + + +XVIII. + +My flocks feed not, +My ewes breed not, +My rams speed not, +All is amiss: +Love's denying, +Faith's defying, +Heart's renying, +Causer of this. +All my merry jigs are quite forgot, +All my lady's love is lost, God wot: +Where her faith was firmly fix'd in love, +There a nay is placed without remove. +One silly cross +Wrought all my loss; +O frowning Fortune, cursed, fickle dame! +For now I see +Inconstancy +More in women than in men remain. +In black mourn I, +All fears scorn I, +Love hath forlorn me, +Living in thrall: +Heart is bleeding, +All help needing, +O cruel speeding, +Fraughted with gall. +My shepherd's pipe can sound no deal; +My wether's bell rings doleful knell; +My curtail dog, that wont to have play'd +Plays not at all, but seems afraid; +My sighs so deep +Procure to weep, +In howling wise, to see my doleful plight. +How sighs resound +Through heartless ground, +Like a thousand vanquish'd men in bloody fight! +Clear wells spring not, +Sweet birds sing not, +Green plants bring not +Forth their dye; +Herds stand weeping, +Flocks all sleeping, +Nymphs back peeping +Fearfully: +All our pleasure known to us poor swains, +All our merry meetings on the plains, +All our evening sport from us is fled, +All our love is lost, for Love is dead +Farewell, sweet lass, +Thy like ne'er was +For a sweet content, the cause of all my moan: +Poor Corydon +Must live alone; +Other help for him I see that there is none. + + +XIX. + +When as thine eye hath chose the dame, +And stall'd the deer that thou shouldst strike, +Let reason rule things worthy blame, +As well as fancy partial might: +Take counsel of some wiser head, +Neither too young nor yet unwed. + +And when thou comest thy tale to tell, +Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk, +Lest she some subtle practise smell,-- +A cripple soon can find a halt;-- +But plainly say thou lovest her well, + +And set thy person forth to sell. +What though her frowning brows be bent, +Her cloudy looks will calm ere night: +And then too late she will repent +That thus dissembled her delight; +And twice desire, ere it be day, +That which with scorn she put away. + +What though she strive to try her strength, +And ban and brawl, and say thee nay, +Her feeble force will yield at length, +When craft hath taught her thus to say, +'Had women been so strong as men, +In faith, you had not had it then.' + +And to her will frame all thy ways; +Spare not to spend, and chiefly there +Where thy desert may merit praise, +By ringing in thy lady's ear: +The strongest castle, tower, and town, +The golden bullet beats it down. + +Serve always with assured trust, +And in thy suit be humble true; +Unless thy lady prove unjust, +Press never thou to choose anew: +When time shall serve, be thou not slack +To proffer, though she put thee back. + +The wiles and guiles that women work, +Dissembled with an outward show, +The tricks and toys that in them lurk, +The cock that treads them shall not know. +Have you not heard it said full oft, +A woman's nay doth stand for nought? + +Think women still to strive with men, +To sin and never for to saint: +There is no heaven, by holy then, +When time with age doth them attaint. +Were kisses all the joys in bed, +One woman would another wed. + +But, soft! enough, too much, I fear +Lest that my mistress hear my song, +She will not stick to round me i' the ear, +To teach my tongue to be so long: +Yet will she blush, here be it said, +To hear her secrets so bewray'd. + + +XX. + +Live with me, and be my love, +And we will all the pleasures prove +That hills and valleys, dales and fields, +And all the craggy mountains yields. + +There will we sit upon the rocks, +And see the shepherds feed their flocks, +By shallow rivers, by whose falls +Melodious birds sing madrigals. + +There will I make thee a bed of roses, +With a thousand fragrant posies, +A cap of flowers, and a kirtle +Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle. + +A belt of straw and ivy buds, +With coral clasps and amber studs; +And if these pleasures may thee move, +Then live with me and be my love. + + +LOVE'S ANSWER. + +If that the world and love were young, +And truth in every shepherd's tongue, +These pretty pleasures might me move +To live with thee and be thy love. + + +XXI. + +As it fell upon a day +In the merry month of May, +Sitting in a pleasant shade +Which a grove of myrtles made, +Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, +Trees did grow, and plants did spring; +Every thing did banish moan, +Save the nightingale alone: +She, poor bird, as all forlorn, +Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn +And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, +That to hear it was great pity: +'Fie, fie, fie,' now would she cry; +'Tereu, tereu!' by and by; +That to hear her so complain, +Scarce I could from tears refrain; +For her griefs, so lively shown, +Made me think upon mine own. +Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain! +None takes pity on thy pain: +Senseless trees they cannot hear thee; +Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: +King Pandion he is dead; +All thy friends are lapp'd in lead; +All thy fellow birds do sing, +Careless of thy sorrowing. +Even so, poor bird, like thee, +None alive will pity me. +Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled, +Thou and I were both beguiled. +Every one that flatters thee +Is no friend in misery. +Words are easy, like the wind; +Faithful friends are hard to find: +Every man will be thy friend +Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend; +But if store of crowns be scant, +No man will supply thy want. +If that one be prodigal, +Bountiful they will him call, +And with such-like flattering, +'Pity but he were a king;' +If he be addict to vice, +Quickly him they will entice; +If to women he be bent, +They have at commandement: +But if Fortune once do frown, +Then farewell his great renown +They that fawn'd on him before +Use his company no more. +He that is thy friend indeed, +He will help thee in thy need: +If thou sorrow, he will weep; +If thou wake, he cannot sleep; +Thus of every grief in heart +He with thee doth bear a part. +These are certain signs to know +Faithful friend from flattering foe. + + + + + THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE + + + + LET the bird of loudest lay, + On the sole Arabian tree, + Herald sad and trumpet be, + To whose sound chaste wings obey. + + But thou shrieking harbinger, + Foul precurrer of the fiend, + Augur of the fever's end, + To this troop come thou not near! + + From this session interdict + Every fowl of tyrant wing, + Save the eagle, feather'd king: + Keep the obsequy so strict. + + Let the priest in surplice white, + That defunctive music can, + Be the death-divining swan, + Lest the requiem lack his right. + + And thou treble-dated crow, + That thy sable gender makest + With the breath thou givest and takest, + 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. + + Here the anthem doth commence: + Love and constancy is dead; + Phoenix and the turtle fled + In a mutual flame from hence. + + So they loved, as love in twain + Had the essence but in one; + Two distincts, division none: + Number there in love was slain. + + Hearts remote, yet not asunder; + Distance, and no space was seen + 'Twixt the turtle and his queen: + But in them it were a wonder. + + So between them love did shine, + That the turtle saw his right + Flaming in the phoenix' sight; + Either was the other's mine. + + Property was thus appalled, + That the self was not the same; + Single nature's double name + Neither two nor one was called. + + Reason, in itself confounded, + Saw division grow together, + To themselves yet either neither, + Simple were so well compounded, + + That it cried, How true a twain + Seemeth this concordant one! + Love hath reason, reason none, + If what parts can so remain. + + Whereupon it made this threne + To the phoenix and the dove, + Co-supremes and stars of love, + As chorus to their tragic scene. + + THRENOS. + + Beauty, truth, and rarity, + Grace in all simplicity, + Here enclosed in cinders lie. + + Death is now the phoenix' nest + And the turtle's loyal breast + To eternity doth rest, + + Leaving no posterity: + 'Twas not their infirmity, + It was married chastity. + + Truth may seem, but cannot be: + Beauty brag, but 'tis not she; + Truth and beauty buried be. + + To this urn let those repair + That are either true or fair + For these dead birds sigh a prayer. + VENUS AND ADONIS + + + +'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo +Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.' + +TO THE +RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY, +EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD. +RIGHT HONORABLE, + +I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my +unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will +censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a +burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account +myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle +hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if +the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be +sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so +barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. +I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your +heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish +and the world's hopeful expectation. + +Your honour's in all duty, +WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. + + + +EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face +Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, +Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase; +Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn; +Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, +And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him. + +'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began, +'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare, +Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man, +More white and red than doves or roses are; +Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, +Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. + +'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, +And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow; +If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed +A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know: +Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses, +And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses; + +'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, +But rather famish them amid their plenty, +Making them red and pale with fresh variety, +Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: +A summer's day will seem an hour but short, +Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.' + +With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, +The precedent of pith and livelihood, +And trembling in her passion, calls it balm, +Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good: +Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force +Courageously to pluck him from his horse. + +Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, +Under her other was the tender boy, +Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain, +With leaden appetite, unapt to toy; +She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, +He red for shame, but frosty in desire. + +The studded bridle on a ragged bough +Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!-- +The steed is stalled up, and even now +To tie the rider she begins to prove: +Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, +And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust. + +So soon was she along as he was down, +Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: +Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, +And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips; +And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, +'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.' + +He burns with bashful shame: she with her tears +Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; +Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs +To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: +He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss; +What follows more she murders with a kiss. + +Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, +Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, +Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, +Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone; +Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin, +And where she ends she doth anew begin. + +Forced to content, but never to obey, +Panting he lies and breatheth in her face; +She feedeth on the steam as on a prey, +And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; +Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers, +So they were dew'd with such distilling showers. + +Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net, +So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; +Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret, +Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: +Rain added to a river that is rank +Perforce will force it overflow the bank. + +Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, +For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale; +Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets, +'Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale: +Being red, she loves him best; and being white, +Her best is better'd with a more delight. + +Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; +And by her fair immortal hand she swears, +From his soft bosom never to remove, +Till he take truce with her contending tears, +Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet; +And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. + +Upon this promise did he raise his chin, +Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, +Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in; +So offers he to give what she did crave; +But when her lips were ready for his pay, +He winks, and turns his lips another way. + +Never did passenger in summer's heat +More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. +Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; +She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: +'O, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy! +'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? + +'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, +Even by the stern and direful god of war, +Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, +Who conquers where he comes in every jar; +Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, +And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have. + +'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, +His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, +And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance, +To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest, +Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, +Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. + +'Thus he that overruled I oversway'd, +Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: +Strong-tempered steel his stronger strength obey'd, +Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. +O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, +For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight! + +'Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,-- +Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red-- +The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine. +What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head: +Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies; +Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? +'Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again, +And I will wink; so shall the day seem night; +Love keeps his revels where they are but twain; +Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: +These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean +Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. + +'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip +Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted: +Make use of time, let not advantage slip; +Beauty within itself should not be wasted: +Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime +Rot and consume themselves in little time. + +'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, +Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, +O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold, +Thick-sighted, barren, lean and lacking juice, +Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee +But having no defects, why dost abhor me? + +'Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; +Mine eyes are gray and bright and quick in turning: +My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow, +My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning; +My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, +Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. + +'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, +Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green, +Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, +Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: +Love is a spirit all compact of fire, +Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. + +'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; +These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; +Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, +From morn till night, even where I list to sport me: +Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be +That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? + +'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? +Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? +Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, +Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft. +Narcissus so himself himself forsook, +And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. + +'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, +Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, +Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear: +Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: +Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty; +Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. + +'Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed, +Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? +By law of nature thou art bound to breed, +That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; +And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive, +In that thy likeness still is left alive.' + +By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, +For where they lay the shadow had forsook them, +And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, +With burning eye did hotly overlook them; +Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, +So he were like him and by Venus' side. + +And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, +And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, +His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight, +Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, +Souring his cheeks cries 'Fie, no more of love! +The sun doth burn my face: I must remove.' + +'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind? +What bare excuses makest thou to be gone! +I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind +Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: +I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; +If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears. + +'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm, +And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee: +The heat I have from thence doth little harm, +Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; +And were I not immortal, life were done +Between this heavenly and earthly sun. + +'Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel, +Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth? +Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel +What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth? +O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind, +She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. + +'What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this? +Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? +What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? +Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute: +Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, +And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. + +'Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, +Well-painted idol, image dun and dead, +Statue contenting but the eye alone, +Thing like a man, but of no woman bred! +Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion, +For men will kiss even by their own direction.' + +This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, +And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; +Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth he wrong; +Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: +And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, +And now her sobs do her intendments break. + +Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand, +Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; +Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: +She would, he will not in her arms be bound; +And when from thence he struggles to be gone, +She locks her lily fingers one in one. + +'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here +Within the circuit of this ivory pale, +I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; +Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: +Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, +Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. + +Within this limit is relief enough, +Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain, +Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough, +To shelter thee from tempest and from rain +Then be my deer, since I am such a park; +No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.' + +At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, +That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple: +Love made those hollows, if himself were slain, +He might be buried in a tomb so simple; +Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, +Why, there Love lived and there he could not die. + +These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, +Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. +Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? +Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? +Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, +To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! + +Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? +Her words are done, her woes are more increasing; +The time is spent, her object will away, +And from her twining arms doth urge releasing. +'Pity,' she cries, 'some favour, some remorse!' +Away he springs and hasteth to his horse. + +But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbors by, +A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud, +Adonis' trampling courser doth espy, +And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: +The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree, +Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. + +Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, +And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; +The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, +Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; +The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, +Controlling what he was controlled with. + +His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane +Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; +His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, +As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: +His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, +Shows his hot courage and his high desire. + +Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, +With gentle majesty and modest pride; +Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, +As who should say 'Lo, thus my strength is tried, +And this I do to captivate the eye +Of the fair breeder that is standing by.' + +What recketh he his rider's angry stir, +His flattering 'Holla,' or his 'Stand, I say'? +What cares he now for curb or pricking spur? +For rich caparisons or trapping gay? +He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, +For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. + +Look, when a painter would surpass the life, +In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, +His art with nature's workmanship at strife, +As if the dead the living should exceed; +So did this horse excel a common one +In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. + +Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, +Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide, +High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, +Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: +Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, +Save a proud rider on so proud a back. + +Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares; +Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; +To bid the wind a base he now prepares, +And whether he run or fly they know not whether; +For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, +Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. + +He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; +She answers him as if she knew his mind: +Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, +She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, +Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, +Beating his kind embracements with her heels. + +Then, like a melancholy malcontent, +He veils his tail that, like a falling plume, +Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: +He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume. +His love, perceiving how he is enraged, +Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged. + +His testy master goeth about to take him; +When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, +Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, +With her the horse, and left Adonis there: +As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, +Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them. + +All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, +Banning his boisterous and unruly beast: +And now the happy season once more fits, +That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; +For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong +When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. + +An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, +Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: +So of concealed sorrow may be said; +Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; +But when the heart's attorney once is mute, +The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. + +He sees her coming, and begins to glow, +Even as a dying coal revives with wind, +And with his bonnet hides his angry brow; +Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, +Taking no notice that she is so nigh, +For all askance he holds her in his eye. + +O, what a sight it was, wistly to view +How she came stealing to the wayward boy! +To note the fighting conflict of her hue, +How white and red each other did destroy! +But now her cheek was pale, and by and by +It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. + +Now was she just before him as he sat, +And like a lowly lover down she kneels; +With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, +Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: +His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print, +As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint. + +O, what a war of looks was then between them! +Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing; +His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; +Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing: +And all this dumb play had his acts made plain +With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain. + +Full gently now she takes him by the hand, +A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, +Or ivory in an alabaster band; +So white a friend engirts so white a foe: +This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, +Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing. + +Once more the engine of her thoughts began: +'O fairest mover on this mortal round, +Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, +My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound; +For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee, +Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee! + +'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?' +'Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it: +O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, +And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: +Then love's deep groans I never shall regard, +Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.' + +'For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go; +My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, +And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so: +I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; +For all my mind, my thought, my busy care, +Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.' + +Thus she replies: 'Thy palfrey, as he should, +Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire: +Affection is a coal that must be cool'd; +Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: +The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; +Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. + +'How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree, +Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! +But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee, +He held such petty bondage in disdain; +Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, +Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. + +'Who sees his true-love in her naked bed, +Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white, +But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed, +His other agents aim at like delight? +Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold +To touch the fire, the weather being cold? + +'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy; +And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, +To take advantage on presented joy; +Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee; +O, learn to love; the lesson is but plain, +And once made perfect, never lost again.' + +I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will not know it, +Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it; +'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it; +My love to love is love but to disgrace it; +For I have heard it is a life in death, +That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath. + +'Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd? +Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? +If springing things be any jot diminish'd, +They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth: +The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young +Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong. + +'You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part, +And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat: +Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; +To love's alarms it will not ope the gate: +Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; +For where a heart is hard they make no battery.' + +'What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue? +O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! +Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; +I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: +Melodious discord, heavenly tune harshsounding, +Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding. + +'Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love +That inward beauty and invisible; +Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move +Each part in me that were but sensible: +Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, +Yet should I be in love by touching thee. + +'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, +And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, +And nothing but the very smell were left me, +Yet would my love to thee be still as much; +For from the stillitory of thy face excelling +Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by +smelling. + +'But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste, +Being nurse and feeder of the other four! +Would they not wish the feast might ever last, +And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, +Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, +Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?' + +Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, +Which to his speech did honey passage yield; +Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd +Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, +Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, +Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. + +This ill presage advisedly she marketh: +Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, +Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, +Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, +Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, +His meaning struck her ere his words begun. + +And at his look she flatly falleth down, +For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth; +A smile recures the wounding of a frown; +But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! +The silly boy, believing she is dead, +Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; + +And all amazed brake off his late intent, +For sharply he did think to reprehend her, +Which cunning love did wittily prevent: +Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! +For on the grass she lies as she were slain, +Till his breath breatheth life in her again. + +He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, +He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, +He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks +To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd: +He kisses her; and she, by her good will, +Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. + +The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: +Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, +Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array +He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth; +And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, +So is her face illumined with her eye; + +Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, +As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine. +Were never four such lamps together mix'd, +Had not his clouded with his brow's repine; +But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, +Shone like the moon in water seen by night. + +'O, where am I?' quoth she, 'in earth or heaven, +Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire? +What hour is this? or morn or weary even? +Do I delight to die, or life desire? +But now I lived, and life was death's annoy; +But now I died, and death was lively joy. + +'O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again: +Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, +Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain +That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine; +And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, +But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. + +'Long may they kiss each other, for this cure! +O, never let their crimson liveries wear! +And as they last, their verdure still endure, +To drive infection from the dangerous year! +That the star-gazers, having writ on death, +May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath. + +'Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, +What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? +To sell myself I can be well contented, +So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing; +Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips +Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. + +'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; +And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. +What is ten hundred touches unto thee? +Are they not quickly told and quickly gone? +Say, for non-payment that the debt should double, +Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble? + +'Fair queen,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe me, +Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: +Before I know myself, seek not to know me; +No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears: +The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast, +Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste. + +'Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait, +His day's hot task hath ended in the west; +The owl, night's herald, shrieks, ''Tis very late;' +The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest, +And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light +Do summon us to part and bid good night. + +'Now let me say 'Good night,' and so say you; +If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.' +'Good night,' quoth she, and, ere he says 'Adieu,' +The honey fee of parting tender'd is: +Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace; +Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face. + +Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew +The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, +Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, +Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth: +He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth +Their lips together glued, fall to the earth. + +Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey, +And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; +Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey, +Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; +Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, +That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry: + +And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, +With blindfold fury she begins to forage; +Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, +And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage, +Planting oblivion, beating reason back, +Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack. + +Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing, +Like a wild bird being tamed with too much handling, +Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tired with chasing, +Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling, +He now obeys, and now no more resisteth, +While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. + +What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering, +And yields at last to every light impression? +Things out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing, +Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: +Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, +But then woos best when most his choice is froward. + +When he did frown, O, had she then gave over, +Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd. +Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover; +What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd: +Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, +Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last. + +For pity now she can no more detain him; +The poor fool prays her that he may depart: +She is resolved no longer to restrain him; +Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, +The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest, +He carries thence incaged in his breast. + +'Sweet boy,' she says, 'this night I'll waste in sorrow, +For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. +Tell me, Love's master, shall we meet to-morrow? +Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?' +He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends +To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. + +'The boar!' quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, +Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, +Usurps her cheek; she trembles at his tale, +And on his neck her yoking arms she throws: +She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck, +He on her belly falls, she on her back. + +Now is she in the very lists of love, +Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: +All is imaginary she doth prove, +He will not manage her, although he mount her; +That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy, +To clip Elysium and to lack her joy. + +Even as poor birds, deceived with painted grapes, +Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw, +Even so she languisheth in her mishaps, +As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. +The warm effects which she in him finds missing +She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. + +But all in vain; good queen, it will not be: +She hath assay'd as much as may be proved; +Her pleading hath deserved a greater fee; +She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not loved. +'Fie, fie,' he says, 'you crush me; let me go; +You have no reason to withhold me so.' + +'Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she, 'sweet boy, ere this, +But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar. +O, be advised! thou know'st not what it is +With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore, +Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still, +Like to a mortal butcher bent to kill. + +'On his bow-back he hath a battle set +Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; +His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret; +His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes; +Being moved, he strikes whate'er is in his way, +And whom he strikes his cruel tushes slay. + +'His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd, +Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter; +His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd; +Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: +The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, +As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes. + +'Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine, +To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes; +Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne, +Whose full perfection all the world amazes; +But having thee at vantage,--wondrous dread!-- +Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. + +'O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still; +Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends: +Come not within his danger by thy will; +They that thrive well take counsel of their friends. +When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, +I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. + +'Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white? +Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? +Grew I not faint? and fell I not downright? +Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie, +My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, +But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast. + +'For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy +Doth call himself Affection's sentinel; +Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, +And in a peaceful hour doth cry 'Kill, kill!' +Distempering gentle Love in his desire, +As air and water do abate the fire. + +'This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, +This canker that eats up Love's tender spring, +This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy, +That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring, +Knocks at my heat and whispers in mine ear +That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: + +'And more than so, presenteth to mine eye +The picture of an angry-chafing boar, +Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie +An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; +Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed +Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head. + +'What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, +That tremble at the imagination? +The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, +And fear doth teach it divination: +I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow, +If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. + +'But if thou needs wilt hunt, be ruled by me; +Uncouple at the timorous flying hare, +Or at the fox which lives by subtlety, +Or at the roe which no encounter dare: +Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, +And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy +hounds. + +'And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, +Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles +How he outruns the wind and with what care +He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles: +The many musets through the which he goes +Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. + +'Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, +To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, +And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, +To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, +And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer: +Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear: + +'For there his smell with others being mingled, +The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, +Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled +With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; +Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies, +As if another chase were in the skies. + +'By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill, +Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, +To harken if his foes pursue him still: +Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; +And now his grief may be compared well +To one sore sick that hears the passing-bell. + +'Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch +Turn, and return, indenting with the way; +Each envious brier his weary legs doth scratch, +Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay: +For misery is trodden on by many, +And being low never relieved by any. + +'Lie quietly, and hear a little more; +Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise: +To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, +Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize, +Applying this to that, and so to so; +For love can comment upon every woe. + +'Where did I leave?' 'No matter where,' quoth he, +'Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: +The night is spent.' 'Why, what of that?' quoth she. +'I am,' quoth he, 'expected of my friends; +And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall.' +'In night,' quoth she, 'desire sees best of all + +'But if thou fall, O, then imagine this, +The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips, +And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. +Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips +Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, +Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn. + +'Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: +Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine, +Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason, +For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine; +Wherein she framed thee in high heaven's despite, +To shame the sun by day and her by night. + +'And therefore hath she bribed the Destinies +To cross the curious workmanship of nature, +To mingle beauty with infirmities, +And pure perfection with impure defeature, +Making it subject to the tyranny +Of mad mischances and much misery; + +'As burning fevers, agues pale and faint, +Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood, +The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint +Disorder breeds by heating of the blood: +Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair, +Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair. + +'And not the least of all these maladies +But in one minute's fight brings beauty under: +Both favour, savour, hue and qualities, +Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder, +Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd and done, +As mountain-snow melts with the midday sun. + +'Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity, +Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns, +That on the earth would breed a scarcity +And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, +Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night +Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. + +'What is thy body but a swallowing grave, +Seeming to bury that posterity +Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, +If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? +If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, +Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain. + +'So in thyself thyself art made away; +A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, +Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay, +Or butcher-sire that reaves his son of life. +Foul-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, +But gold that's put to use more gold begets.' + +'Nay, then,' quoth Adon, 'you will fall again +Into your idle over-handled theme: +The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain, +And all in vain you strive against the stream; +For, by this black-faced night, desire's foul nurse, +Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. + +'If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, +And every tongue more moving than your own, +Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs, +Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown +For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear, +And will not let a false sound enter there; + +'Lest the deceiving harmony should run +Into the quiet closure of my breast; +And then my little heart were quite undone, +In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest. +No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, +But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. + +'What have you urged that I cannot reprove? +The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger: +I hate not love, but your device in love, +That lends embracements unto every stranger. +You do it for increase: O strange excuse, +When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse! + +'Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled, +Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name; +Under whose simple semblance he hath fed +Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; +Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves, +As caterpillars do the tender leaves. + +'Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, +But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; +Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, +Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done; +Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; +Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies. + +'More I could tell, but more I dare not say; +The text is old, the orator too green. +Therefore, in sadness, now I will away; +My face is full of shame, my heart of teen: +Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended, +Do burn themselves for having so offended.' + +With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace, +Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, +And homeward through the dark laund runs apace; +Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. +Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky, +So glides he in the night from Venus' eye. + +Which after him she darts, as one on shore +Gazing upon a late-embarked friend, +Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, +Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend: +So did the merciless and pitchy night +Fold in the object that did feed her sight. + +Whereat amazed, as one that unaware +Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood, +Or stonish'd as night-wanderers often are, +Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood, +Even so confounded in the dark she lay, +Having lost the fair discovery of her way. + +And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, +That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled, +Make verbal repetition of her moans; +Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: +'Ay me!' she cries, and twenty times 'Woe, woe!' +And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. + +She marking them begins a wailing note +And sings extemporally a woeful ditty; +How love makes young men thrall and old men dote; +How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty: +Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, +And still the choir of echoes answer so. + +Her song was tedious and outwore the night, +For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short: +If pleased themselves, others, they think, delight +In such-like circumstance, with suchlike sport: +Their copious stories oftentimes begun +End without audience and are never done. + +For who hath she to spend the night withal +But idle sounds resembling parasites, +Like shrill-tongued tapsters answering every call, +Soothing the humour of fantastic wits? +She says ''Tis so:' they answer all ''Tis so;' +And would say after her, if she said 'No.' + +Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest, +From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, +And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast +The sun ariseth in his majesty; +Who doth the world so gloriously behold +That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. + +Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow: +'O thou clear god, and patron of all light, +From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow +The beauteous influence that makes him bright, +There lives a son that suck'd an earthly mother, +May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.' + +This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, +Musing the morning is so much o'erworn, +And yet she hears no tidings of her love: +She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn: +Anon she hears them chant it lustily, +And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. + +And as she runs, the bushes in the way +Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, +Some twine about her thigh to make her stay: +She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, +Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache, +Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. + +By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay; +Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder +Wreathed up in fatal folds just in his way, +The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder; +Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds +Appals her senses and her spirit confounds. + +For now she knows it is no gentle chase, +But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud, +Because the cry remaineth in one place, +Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud: +Finding their enemy to be so curst, +They all strain courtesy who shall cope him first. + +This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, +Through which it enters to surprise her heart; +Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear, +With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part: +Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield, +They basely fly and dare not stay the field. + +Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy; +Till, cheering up her senses all dismay'd, +She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy, +And childish error, that they are afraid; +Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more:-- +And with that word she spied the hunted boar, + +Whose frothy mouth, bepainted all with red, +Like milk and blood being mingled both together, +A second fear through all her sinews spread, +Which madly hurries her she knows not whither: +This way runs, and now she will no further, +But back retires to rate the boar for murther. + +A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; +She treads the path that she untreads again; +Her more than haste is mated with delays, +Like the proceedings of a drunken brain, +Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting; +In hand with all things, nought at all effecting. + +Here kennell'd in a brake she finds a hound, +And asks the weary caitiff for his master, +And there another licking of his wound, +'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster; +And here she meets another sadly scowling, +To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. + +When he hath ceased his ill-resounding noise, +Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, +Against the welkin volleys out his voice; +Another and another answer him, +Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, +Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go. + +Look, how the world's poor people are amazed +At apparitions, signs and prodigies, +Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed, +Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; +So she at these sad signs draws up her breath +And sighing it again, exclaims on Death. + +'Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, +Hateful divorce of love,'--thus chides she Death,-- +'Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean +To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, +Who when he lived, his breath and beauty set +Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet? + +'If he be dead,--O no, it cannot be, +Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it:-- +O yes, it may; thou hast no eyes to see, +But hatefully at random dost thou hit. +Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart +Mistakes that aim and cleaves an infant's heart. + +'Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, +And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power. +The Destinies will curse thee for this stroke; +They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower: +Love's golden arrow at him should have fled, +And not Death's ebon dart, to strike dead. + +'Dost thou drink tears, that thou provokest such weeping? +What may a heavy groan advantage thee? +Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping +Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? +Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour, +Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.' + +Here overcome, as one full of despair, +She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopt +The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair +In the sweet channel of her bosom dropt; +But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain, +And with his strong course opens them again. + +O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! +Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye; +Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow, +Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry; +But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, +Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. + +Variable passions throng her constant woe, +As striving who should best become her grief; +All entertain'd, each passion labours so, +That every present sorrow seemeth chief, +But none is best: then join they all together, +Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. + +By this, far off she hears some huntsman hollo; +A nurse's song ne'er pleased her babe so well: +The dire imagination she did follow +This sound of hope doth labour to expel; +For now reviving joy bids her rejoice, +And flatters her it is Adonis' voice. + +Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, +Being prison'd in her eye like pearls in glass; +Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside, +Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass, +To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground, +Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd. + +O hard-believing love, how strange it seems +Not to believe, and yet too credulous! +Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes; +Despair and hope makes thee ridiculous: +The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, +In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. + +Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought; +Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame; +It was not she that call'd him, all-to naught: +Now she adds honours to his hateful name; +She clepes him king of graves and grave for kings, +Imperious supreme of all mortal things. + +'No, no,' quoth she, 'sweet Death, I did but jest; +Yet pardon me I felt a kind of fear +When as I met the boar, that bloody beast, +Which knows no pity, but is still severe; +Then, gentle shadow,--truth I must confess,-- +I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease. + +''Tis not my fault: the boar provoked my tongue; +Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander; +'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong; +I did but act, he's author of thy slander: +Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet +Could rule them both without ten women's wit.' + +Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, +Her rash suspect she doth extenuate; +And that his beauty may the better thrive, +With Death she humbly doth insinuate; +Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs, and stories +His victories, his triumphs and his glories. + +'O Jove,' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I +To be of such a weak and silly mind +To wail his death who lives and must not die +Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind! +For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, +And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. + +'Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear +As one with treasure laden, hemm'd thieves; +Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear, +Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' +Even at this word she hears a merry horn, +Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn. + +As falcon to the lure, away she flies; +The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; +And in her haste unfortunately spies +The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight; +Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view, +Like stars ashamed of day, themselves withdrew; + +Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, +Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain, +And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit, +Long after fearing to creep forth again; +So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled +Into the deep dark cabins of her head: + +Where they resign their office and their light +To the disposing of her troubled brain; +Who bids them still consort with ugly night, +And never wound the heart with looks again; +Who like a king perplexed in his throne, +By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, + +Whereat each tributary subject quakes; +As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, +Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes, +Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound. +This mutiny each part doth so surprise +That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes; + +And, being open'd, threw unwilling light +Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd +In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white +With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd: +No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed, +But stole his blood and seem'd with him to bleed. + +This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth; +Over one shoulder doth she hang her head; +Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth; +She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: +Her voice is stopt, her joints forget to bow; +Her eyes are mad that they have wept til now. + +Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly, +That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; +And then she reprehends her mangling eye, +That makes more gashes where no breach should be: +His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled; +For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. + +'My tongue cannot express my grief for one, +And yet,' quoth she, 'behold two Adons dead! +My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone, +Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead: +Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire! +So shall I die by drops of hot desire. + +'Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! +What face remains alive that's worth the viewing? +Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast +Of things long since, or any thing ensuing? +The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim; +But true-sweet beauty lived and died with him. + +'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! +Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: +Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; +The sun doth scorn you and the wind doth hiss you: +But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air +Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair: + +'And therefore would he put his bonnet on, +Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; +The wind would blow it off and, being gone, +Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep; +And straight, in pity of his tender years, +They both would strive who first should dry his tears. + +'To see his face the lion walk'd along +Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him; +To recreate himself when he hath sung, +The tiger would be tame and gently hear him; +If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey +And never fright the silly lamb that day. + +'When he beheld his shadow in the brook, +The fishes spread on it their golden gills; +When he was by, the birds such pleasure took, +That some would sing, some other in their bills +Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries; +He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. + +'But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, +Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave, +Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; +Witness the entertainment that he gave: +If he did see his face, why then I know +He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so. + +''Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain: +He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, +Who did not whet his teeth at him again, +But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; +And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine +Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin. + +'Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess, +With kissing him I should have kill'd him first; +But he is dead, and never did he bless +My youth with his; the more am I accurst.' +With this, she falleth in the place she stood, +And stains her face with his congealed blood. + +She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; +She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; +She whispers in his ears a heavy tale, +As if they heard the woeful words she told; +She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, +Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies; + +Two glasses, where herself herself beheld +A thousand times, and now no more reflect; +Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd, +And every beauty robb'd of his effect: +'Wonder of time,' quoth she, 'this is my spite, +That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light. + +'Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy: +Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend: +It shall be waited on with jealousy, +Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end, +Ne'er settled equally, but high or low, +That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe. + +'It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud, +Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while; +The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd +With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile: +The strongest body shall it make most weak, +Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak. + +'It shall be sparing and too full of riot, +Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; +The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, +Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; +It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild, +Make the young old, the old become a child. + +'It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; +It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; +It shall be merciful and too severe, +And most deceiving when it seems most just; +Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward, +Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. + +'It shall be cause of war and dire events, +And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire; +Subject and servile to all discontents, +As dry combustious matter is to fire: +Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy, +They that love best their loves shall not enjoy.' + +By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd +Was melted like a vapour from her sight, +And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd, +A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white, +Resembling well his pale cheeks and the blood +Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. + +She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell, +Comparing it to her Adonis' breath, +And says, within her bosom it shall dwell, +Since he himself is reft from her by death: +She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears +Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. + +'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy fathers guise-- +Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire-- +For every little grief to wet his eyes: +To grow unto himself was his desire, +And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good +To wither in my breast as in his blood. + +'Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast; +Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: +Lo, in this hollow cradle take thy rest, +My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: +There shall not be one minute in an hour +Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.' + +Thus weary of the world, away she hies, +And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid +Their mistress mounted through the empty skies +In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; +Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen +Means to immure herself and not be seen. + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + + +MARK ANTONY | + | +OCTAVIUS CAESAR | triumvirs. + | +M. AEMILIUS | +LEPIDUS (LEPIDUS:) | + + +SEXTUS POMPEIUS (POMPEY:) + + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS | + | +VENTIDIUS | + | +EROS | + | +SCARUS | friends to Antony. + | +DERCETAS | + | +DEMETRIUS | + | +PHILO | + + +MECAENAS | + | +AGRIPPA | + | +DOLABELLA | + | +PROCULEIUS | friends to Caesar. + | +THYREUS | + | +GALLUS | + | +MENAS | + + +MENECRATES | + | friends to Pompey. +VARRIUS | + + +TAURUS lieutenant-general to Caesar. + +CANIDIUS lieutenant-general to Antony. + +SILIUS an officer in Ventidius's army. + +EUPHRONIUS an ambassador from Antony to Caesar. + + +ALEXAS | + | +MARDIAN a Eunuch. | + | attendants on Cleopatra. +SELEUCUS | + | +DIOMEDES | + + + A Soothsayer. (Soothsayer:) + + A Clown. (Clown:) + +CLEOPATRA queen of Egypt. + +OCTAVIA sister to Caesar and wife to Antony. + + +CHARMIAN | + | attendants on Cleopatra. +IRAS | + + + Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. + (First Officer:) + (Second Officer:) + (Third Officer:) + (Messenger:) + (Second Messenger:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + (Egyptian:) + (Guard:) + (First Guard:) + (Second Guard:) + (Attendant:) + (First Attendant:) + (Second Attendant:) + + + +SCENE In several parts of the Roman empire. + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Alexandria. A room in CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO] + +PHILO Nay, but this dotage of our general's + O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes, + That o'er the files and musters of the war + Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, + The office and devotion of their view + Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart, + Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst + The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper, + And is become the bellows and the fan + To cool a gipsy's lust. + + [Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her Ladies, + the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her] + + Look, where they come: + Take but good note, and you shall see in him. + The triple pillar of the world transform'd + Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see. + +CLEOPATRA If it be love indeed, tell me how much. + +MARK ANTONY There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd. + +CLEOPATRA I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved. + +MARK ANTONY Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. + + [Enter an Attendant] + +Attendant News, my good lord, from Rome. + +MARK ANTONY Grates me: the sum. + +CLEOPATRA Nay, hear them, Antony: + Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows + If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent + His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this; + Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; + Perform 't, or else we damn thee.' + +MARK ANTONY How, my love! + +CLEOPATRA Perchance! nay, and most like: + You must not stay here longer, your dismission + Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. + Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? both? + Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, + Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine + Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame + When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers! + +MARK ANTONY Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch + Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space. + Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike + Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life + Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair + + [Embracing] + + And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, + On pain of punishment, the world to weet + We stand up peerless. + +CLEOPATRA Excellent falsehood! + Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? + I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony + Will be himself. + +MARK ANTONY But stirr'd by Cleopatra. + Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours, + Let's not confound the time with conference harsh: + There's not a minute of our lives should stretch + Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight? + +CLEOPATRA Hear the ambassadors. + +MARK ANTONY Fie, wrangling queen! + Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, + To weep; whose every passion fully strives + To make itself, in thee, fair and admired! + No messenger, but thine; and all alone + To-night we'll wander through the streets and note + The qualities of people. Come, my queen; + Last night you did desire it: speak not to us. + + [Exeunt MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA with + their train] + +DEMETRIUS Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight? + +PHILO Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, + He comes too short of that great property + Which still should go with Antony. + +DEMETRIUS I am full sorry + That he approves the common liar, who + Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope + Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The same. Another room. + + + [Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer] + +CHARMIAN Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, + almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer + that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew + this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns + with garlands! + +ALEXAS Soothsayer! + +Soothsayer Your will? + +CHARMIAN Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things? + +Soothsayer In nature's infinite book of secrecy + A little I can read. + +ALEXAS Show him your hand. + + [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough + Cleopatra's health to drink. + +CHARMIAN Good sir, give me good fortune. + +Soothsayer I make not, but foresee. + +CHARMIAN Pray, then, foresee me one. + +Soothsayer You shall be yet far fairer than you are. + +CHARMIAN He means in flesh. + +IRAS No, you shall paint when you are old. + +CHARMIAN Wrinkles forbid! + +ALEXAS Vex not his prescience; be attentive. + +CHARMIAN Hush! + +Soothsayer You shall be more beloving than beloved. + +CHARMIAN I had rather heat my liver with drinking. + +ALEXAS Nay, hear him. + +CHARMIAN Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married + to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all: + let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry + may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius + Caesar, and companion me with my mistress. + +Soothsayer You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. + +CHARMIAN O excellent! I love long life better than figs. + +Soothsayer You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune + Than that which is to approach. + +CHARMIAN Then belike my children shall have no names: + prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have? + +Soothsayer If every of your wishes had a womb. + And fertile every wish, a million. + +CHARMIAN Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. + +ALEXAS You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. + +CHARMIAN Nay, come, tell Iras hers. + +ALEXAS We'll know all our fortunes. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall + be--drunk to bed. + +IRAS There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. + +CHARMIAN E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine. + +IRAS Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. + +CHARMIAN Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful + prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, + tell her but a worky-day fortune. + +Soothsayer Your fortunes are alike. + +IRAS But how, but how? give me particulars. + +Soothsayer I have said. + +IRAS Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? + +CHARMIAN Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than + I, where would you choose it? + +IRAS Not in my husband's nose. + +CHARMIAN Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,--come, + his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman + that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! and let + her die too, and give him a worse! and let worst + follow worse, till the worst of all follow him + laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good + Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a + matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee! + +IRAS Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! + for, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man + loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a + foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep + decorum, and fortune him accordingly! + +CHARMIAN Amen. + +ALEXAS Lo, now, if it lay in their hands to make me a + cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but + they'ld do't! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Hush! here comes Antony. + +CHARMIAN Not he; the queen. + + [Enter CLEOPATRA] + +CLEOPATRA Saw you my lord? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS No, lady. + +CLEOPATRA Was he not here? + +CHARMIAN No, madam. + +CLEOPATRA He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden + A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Madam? + +CLEOPATRA Seek him, and bring him hither. + Where's Alexas? + +ALEXAS Here, at your service. My lord approaches. + +CLEOPATRA We will not look upon him: go with us. + + [Exeunt] + + [Enter MARK ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants] + +Messenger Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. + +MARK ANTONY Against my brother Lucius? + +Messenger Ay: + But soon that war had end, and the time's state + Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst Caesar; + Whose better issue in the war, from Italy, + Upon the first encounter, drave them. + +MARK ANTONY Well, what worst? + +Messenger The nature of bad news infects the teller. + +MARK ANTONY When it concerns the fool or coward. On: + Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus: + Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, + I hear him as he flatter'd. + +Messenger Labienus-- + This is stiff news--hath, with his Parthian force, + Extended Asia from Euphrates; + His conquering banner shook from Syria + To Lydia and to Ionia; Whilst-- + +MARK ANTONY Antony, thou wouldst say,-- + +Messenger O, my lord! + +MARK ANTONY Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue: + Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome; + Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults + With such full licence as both truth and malice + Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds, + When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us + Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. + +Messenger At your noble pleasure. + + [Exit] + +MARK ANTONY From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there! + +First Attendant The man from Sicyon,--is there such an one? + +Second Attendant He stays upon your will. + +MARK ANTONY Let him appear. + These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, + Or lose myself in dotage. + + [Enter another Messenger] + + What are you? + +Second Messenger Fulvia thy wife is dead. + +MARK ANTONY Where died she? + +Second Messenger In Sicyon: + Her length of sickness, with what else more serious + Importeth thee to know, this bears. + + [Gives a letter] + +MARK ANTONY Forbear me. + + [Exit Second Messenger] + + There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: + What our contempt doth often hurl from us, + We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, + By revolution lowering, does become + The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone; + The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on. + I must from this enchanting queen break off: + Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, + My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus! + + [Re-enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS What's your pleasure, sir? + +MARK ANTONY I must with haste from hence. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Why, then, we kill all our women: + we see how mortal an unkindness is to them; + if they suffer our departure, death's the word. + +MARK ANTONY I must be gone. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Under a compelling occasion, let women die; it were + pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between + them and a great cause, they should be esteemed + nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of + this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty + times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is + mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon + her, she hath such a celerity in dying. + +MARK ANTONY She is cunning past man's thought. + + [Exit ALEXAS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but + the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her + winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater + storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this + cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a + shower of rain as well as Jove. + +MARK ANTONY Would I had never seen her. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece + of work; which not to have been blest withal would + have discredited your travel. + +MARK ANTONY Fulvia is dead. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Sir? + +MARK ANTONY Fulvia is dead. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Fulvia! + +MARK ANTONY Dead. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When + it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man + from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; + comforting therein, that when old robes are worn + out, there are members to make new. If there were + no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, + and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned + with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new + petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion + that should water this sorrow. + +MARK ANTONY The business she hath broached in the state + Cannot endure my absence. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS And the business you have broached here cannot be + without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which + wholly depends on your abode. + +MARK ANTONY No more light answers. Let our officers + Have notice what we purpose. I shall break + The cause of our expedience to the queen, + And get her leave to part. For not alone + The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, + Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too + Of many our contriving friends in Rome + Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius + Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands + The empire of the sea: our slippery people, + Whose love is never link'd to the deserver + Till his deserts are past, begin to throw + Pompey the Great and all his dignities + Upon his son; who, high in name and power, + Higher than both in blood and life, stands up + For the main soldier: whose quality, going on, + The sides o' the world may danger: much is breeding, + Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life, + And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, + To such whose place is under us, requires + Our quick remove from hence. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I shall do't. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The same. Another room. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS] + +CLEOPATRA Where is he? + +CHARMIAN I did not see him since. + +CLEOPATRA See where he is, who's with him, what he does: + I did not send you: if you find him sad, + Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report + That I am sudden sick: quick, and return. + + [Exit ALEXAS] + +CHARMIAN Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, + You do not hold the method to enforce + The like from him. + +CLEOPATRA What should I do, I do not? + +CHARMIAN In each thing give him way, cross him nothing. + +CLEOPATRA Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him. + +CHARMIAN Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear: + In time we hate that which we often fear. + But here comes Antony. + + [Enter MARK ANTONY] + +CLEOPATRA I am sick and sullen. + +MARK ANTONY I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,-- + +CLEOPATRA Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall: + It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature + Will not sustain it. + +MARK ANTONY Now, my dearest queen,-- + +CLEOPATRA Pray you, stand further from me. + +MARK ANTONY What's the matter? + +CLEOPATRA I know, by that same eye, there's some good news. + What says the married woman? You may go: + Would she had never given you leave to come! + Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here: + I have no power upon you; hers you are. + +MARK ANTONY The gods best know,-- + +CLEOPATRA O, never was there queen + So mightily betray'd! yet at the first + I saw the treasons planted. + +MARK ANTONY Cleopatra,-- + +CLEOPATRA Why should I think you can be mine and true, + Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, + Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, + To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, + Which break themselves in swearing! + +MARK ANTONY Most sweet queen,-- + +CLEOPATRA Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, + But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying, + Then was the time for words: no going then; + Eternity was in our lips and eyes, + Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor, + But was a race of heaven: they are so still, + Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, + Art turn'd the greatest liar. + +MARK ANTONY How now, lady! + +CLEOPATRA I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know + There were a heart in Egypt. + +MARK ANTONY Hear me, queen: + The strong necessity of time commands + Our services awhile; but my full heart + Remains in use with you. Our Italy + Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius + Makes his approaches to the port of Rome: + Equality of two domestic powers + Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength, + Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey, + Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace, + Into the hearts of such as have not thrived + Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; + And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge + By any desperate change: my more particular, + And that which most with you should safe my going, + Is Fulvia's death. + +CLEOPATRA Though age from folly could not give me freedom, + It does from childishness: can Fulvia die? + +MARK ANTONY She's dead, my queen: + Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read + The garboils she awaked; at the last, best: + See when and where she died. + +CLEOPATRA O most false love! + Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill + With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, + In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. + +MARK ANTONY Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know + The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, + As you shall give the advice. By the fire + That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence + Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war + As thou affect'st. + +CLEOPATRA Cut my lace, Charmian, come; + But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well, + So Antony loves. + +MARK ANTONY My precious queen, forbear; + And give true evidence to his love, which stands + An honourable trial. + +CLEOPATRA So Fulvia told me. + I prithee, turn aside and weep for her, + Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears + Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene + Of excellent dissembling; and let it look + Life perfect honour. + +MARK ANTONY You'll heat my blood: no more. + +CLEOPATRA You can do better yet; but this is meetly. + +MARK ANTONY Now, by my sword,-- + +CLEOPATRA And target. Still he mends; + But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, + How this Herculean Roman does become + The carriage of his chafe. + +MARK ANTONY I'll leave you, lady. + +CLEOPATRA Courteous lord, one word. + Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: + Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it; + That you know well: something it is I would, + O, my oblivion is a very Antony, + And I am all forgotten. + +MARK ANTONY But that your royalty + Holds idleness your subject, I should take you + For idleness itself. + +CLEOPATRA 'Tis sweating labour + To bear such idleness so near the heart + As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; + Since my becomings kill me, when they do not + Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence; + Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly. + And all the gods go with you! upon your sword + Sit laurel victory! and smooth success + Be strew'd before your feet! + +MARK ANTONY Let us go. Come; + Our separation so abides, and flies, + That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, + And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter, LEPIDUS, + and their Train] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, + It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate + Our great competitor: from Alexandria + This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes + The lamps of night in revel; is not more man-like + Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy + More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or + Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you shall find there + A man who is the abstract of all faults + That all men follow. + +LEPIDUS I must not think there are + Evils enow to darken all his goodness: + His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, + More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, + Rather than purchased; what he cannot change, + Than what he chooses. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not + Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; + To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit + And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; + To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet + With knaves that smell of sweat: say this + becomes him,-- + As his composure must be rare indeed + Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony + No way excuse his soils, when we do bear + So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd + His vacancy with his voluptuousness, + Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, + Call on him for't: but to confound such time, + That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud + As his own state and ours,--'tis to be chid + As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge, + Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, + And so rebel to judgment. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +LEPIDUS Here's more news. + +Messenger Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, + Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report + How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; + And it appears he is beloved of those + That only have fear'd Caesar: to the ports + The discontents repair, and men's reports + Give him much wrong'd. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I should have known no less. + It hath been taught us from the primal state, + That he which is was wish'd until he were; + And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love, + Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body, + Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, + Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, + To rot itself with motion. + +Messenger Caesar, I bring thee word, + Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, + Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound + With keels of every kind: many hot inroads + They make in Italy; the borders maritime + Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt: + No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon + Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more + Than could his war resisted. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Antony, + Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once + Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st + Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel + Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, + Though daintily brought up, with patience more + Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink + The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle + Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign + The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; + Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, + The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps + It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, + Which some did die to look on: and all this-- + It wounds thine honour that I speak it now-- + Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek + So much as lank'd not. + +LEPIDUS 'Tis pity of him. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Let his shames quickly + Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain + Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end + Assemble we immediate council: Pompey + Thrives in our idleness. + +LEPIDUS To-morrow, Caesar, + I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly + Both what by sea and land I can be able + To front this present time. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Till which encounter, + It is my business too. Farewell. + +LEPIDUS Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime + Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, + To let me be partaker. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Doubt not, sir; + I knew it for my bond. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN] + +CLEOPATRA Charmian! + +CHARMIAN Madam? + +CLEOPATRA Ha, ha! + Give me to drink mandragora. + +CHARMIAN Why, madam? + +CLEOPATRA That I might sleep out this great gap of time + My Antony is away. + +CHARMIAN You think of him too much. + +CLEOPATRA O, 'tis treason! + +CHARMIAN Madam, I trust, not so. + +CLEOPATRA Thou, eunuch Mardian! + +MARDIAN What's your highness' pleasure? + +CLEOPATRA Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure + In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee, + That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts + May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? + +MARDIAN Yes, gracious madam. + +CLEOPATRA Indeed! + +MARDIAN Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing + But what indeed is honest to be done: + Yet have I fierce affections, and think + What Venus did with Mars. + +CLEOPATRA O Charmian, + Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? + Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? + O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! + Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou movest? + The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm + And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, + Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?' + For so he calls me: now I feed myself + With most delicious poison. Think on me, + That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, + And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, + When thou wast here above the ground, I was + A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey + Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; + There would he anchor his aspect and die + With looking on his life. + + [Enter ALEXAS, from OCTAVIUS CAESAR] + +ALEXAS Sovereign of Egypt, hail! + +CLEOPATRA How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! + Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath + With his tinct gilded thee. + How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? + +ALEXAS Last thing he did, dear queen, + He kiss'd,--the last of many doubled kisses,-- + This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. + +CLEOPATRA Mine ear must pluck it thence. + +ALEXAS 'Good friend,' quoth he, + 'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends + This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, + To mend the petty present, I will piece + Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east, + Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded, + And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, + Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke + Was beastly dumb'd by him. + +CLEOPATRA What, was he sad or merry? + +ALEXAS Like to the time o' the year between the extremes + Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. + +CLEOPATRA O well-divided disposition! Note him, + Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him: + He was not sad, for he would shine on those + That make their looks by his; he was not merry, + Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay + In Egypt with his joy; but between both: + O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry, + The violence of either thee becomes, + So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts? + +ALEXAS Ay, madam, twenty several messengers: + Why do you send so thick? + +CLEOPATRA Who's born that day + When I forget to send to Antony, + Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. + Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, + Ever love Caesar so? + +CHARMIAN O that brave Caesar! + +CLEOPATRA Be choked with such another emphasis! + Say, the brave Antony. + +CHARMIAN The valiant Caesar! + +CLEOPATRA By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, + If thou with Caesar paragon again + My man of men. + +CHARMIAN By your most gracious pardon, + I sing but after you. + +CLEOPATRA My salad days, + When I was green in judgment: cold in blood, + To say as I said then! But, come, away; + Get me ink and paper: + He shall have every day a several greeting, + Or I'll unpeople Egypt. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Messina. POMPEY's house. + + + [Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in + warlike manner] + +POMPEY If the great gods be just, they shall assist + The deeds of justest men. + +MENECRATES Know, worthy Pompey, + That what they do delay, they not deny. + +POMPEY Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays + The thing we sue for. + +MENECRATES We, ignorant of ourselves, + Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers + Deny us for our good; so find we profit + By losing of our prayers. + +POMPEY I shall do well: + The people love me, and the sea is mine; + My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope + Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony + In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make + No wars without doors: Caesar gets money where + He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, + Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, + Nor either cares for him. + +MENAS Caesar and Lepidus + Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry. + +POMPEY Where have you this? 'tis false. + +MENAS From Silvius, sir. + +POMPEY He dreams: I know they are in Rome together, + Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, + Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip! + Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both! + Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, + Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks + Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite; + That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour + Even till a Lethe'd dulness! + + [Enter VARRIUS] + + How now, Varrius! + +VARRIUS This is most certain that I shall deliver: + Mark Antony is every hour in Rome + Expected: since he went from Egypt 'tis + A space for further travel. + +POMPEY I could have given less matter + A better ear. Menas, I did not think + This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm + For such a petty war: his soldiership + Is twice the other twain: but let us rear + The higher our opinion, that our stirring + Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck + The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony. + +MENAS I cannot hope + Caesar and Antony shall well greet together: + His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar; + His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think, + Not moved by Antony. + +POMPEY I know not, Menas, + How lesser enmities may give way to greater. + Were't not that we stand up against them all, + 'Twere pregnant they should square between + themselves; + For they have entertained cause enough + To draw their swords: but how the fear of us + May cement their divisions and bind up + The petty difference, we yet not know. + Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands + Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. + Come, Menas. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Rome. The house of LEPIDUS. + + + [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS] + +LEPIDUS Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, + And shall become you well, to entreat your captain + To soft and gentle speech. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I shall entreat him + To answer like himself: if Caesar move him, + Let Antony look over Caesar's head + And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, + Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard, + I would not shave't to-day. + +LEPIDUS 'Tis not a time + For private stomaching. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Every time + Serves for the matter that is then born in't. + +LEPIDUS But small to greater matters must give way. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Not if the small come first. + +LEPIDUS Your speech is passion: + But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes + The noble Antony. + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and VENTIDIUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS And yonder, Caesar. + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA] + +MARK ANTONY If we compose well here, to Parthia: + Hark, Ventidius. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I do not know, + Mecaenas; ask Agrippa. + +LEPIDUS Noble friends, + That which combined us was most great, and let not + A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, + May it be gently heard: when we debate + Our trivial difference loud, we do commit + Murder in healing wounds: then, noble partners, + The rather, for I earnestly beseech, + Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, + Nor curstness grow to the matter. + +MARK ANTONY 'Tis spoken well. + Were we before our armies, and to fight. + I should do thus. + + [Flourish] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Welcome to Rome. + +MARK ANTONY Thank you. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Sit. + +MARK ANTONY Sit, sir. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Nay, then. + +MARK ANTONY I learn, you take things ill which are not so, + Or being, concern you not. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I must be laugh'd at, + If, or for nothing or a little, I + Should say myself offended, and with you + Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at, that I should + Once name you derogately, when to sound your name + It not concern'd me. + +MARK ANTONY My being in Egypt, Caesar, + What was't to you? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR No more than my residing here at Rome + Might be to you in Egypt: yet, if you there + Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt + Might be my question. + +MARK ANTONY How intend you, practised? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You may be pleased to catch at mine intent + By what did here befal me. Your wife and brother + Made wars upon me; and their contestation + Was theme for you, you were the word of war. + +MARK ANTONY You do mistake your business; my brother never + Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it; + And have my learning from some true reports, + That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather + Discredit my authority with yours; + And make the wars alike against my stomach, + Having alike your cause? Of this my letters + Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel, + As matter whole you have not to make it with, + It must not be with this. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You praise yourself + By laying defects of judgment to me; but + You patch'd up your excuses. + +MARK ANTONY Not so, not so; + I know you could not lack, I am certain on't, + Very necessity of this thought, that I, + Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, + Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars + Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, + I would you had her spirit in such another: + The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle + You may pace easy, but not such a wife. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Would we had all such wives, that the men might go + to wars with the women! + +MARK ANTONY So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar + Made out of her impatience, which not wanted + Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant + Did you too much disquiet: for that you must + But say, I could not help it. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I wrote to you + When rioting in Alexandria; you + Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts + Did gibe my missive out of audience. + +MARK ANTONY Sir, + He fell upon me ere admitted: then + Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want + Of what I was i' the morning: but next day + I told him of myself; which was as much + As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow + Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, + Out of our question wipe him. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You have broken + The article of your oath; which you shall never + Have tongue to charge me with. + +LEPIDUS Soft, Caesar! + +MARK ANTONY No, + Lepidus, let him speak: + The honour is sacred which he talks on now, + Supposing that I lack'd it. But, on, Caesar; + The article of my oath. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR To lend me arms and aid when I required them; + The which you both denied. + +MARK ANTONY Neglected, rather; + And then when poison'd hours had bound me up + From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, + I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty + Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power + Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia, + To have me out of Egypt, made wars here; + For which myself, the ignorant motive, do + So far ask pardon as befits mine honour + To stoop in such a case. + +LEPIDUS 'Tis noble spoken. + +MECAENAS If it might please you, to enforce no further + The griefs between ye: to forget them quite + Were to remember that the present need + Speaks to atone you. + +LEPIDUS Worthily spoken, Mecaenas. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Or, if you borrow one another's love for the + instant, you may, when you hear no more words of + Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to + wrangle in when you have nothing else to do. + +MARK ANTONY Thou art a soldier only: speak no more. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. + +MARK ANTONY You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Go to, then; your considerate stone. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I do not much dislike the matter, but + The manner of his speech; for't cannot be + We shall remain in friendship, our conditions + So differing in their acts. Yet if I knew + What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge + O' the world I would pursue it. + +AGRIPPA Give me leave, Caesar,-- + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Speak, Agrippa. + +AGRIPPA Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, + Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony + Is now a widower. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Say not so, Agrippa: + If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof + Were well deserved of rashness. + +MARK ANTONY I am not married, Caesar: let me hear + Agrippa further speak. + +AGRIPPA To hold you in perpetual amity, + To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts + With an unslipping knot, take Antony + Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims + No worse a husband than the best of men; + Whose virtue and whose general graces speak + That which none else can utter. By this marriage, + All little jealousies, which now seem great, + And all great fears, which now import their dangers, + Would then be nothing: truths would be tales, + Where now half tales be truths: her love to both + Would, each to other and all loves to both, + Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; + For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, + By duty ruminated. + +MARK ANTONY Will Caesar speak? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd + With what is spoke already. + +MARK ANTONY What power is in Agrippa, + If I would say, 'Agrippa, be it so,' + To make this good? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR The power of Caesar, and + His power unto Octavia. + +MARK ANTONY May I never + To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, + Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand: + Further this act of grace: and from this hour + The heart of brothers govern in our loves + And sway our great designs! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR There is my hand. + A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother + Did ever love so dearly: let her live + To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never + Fly off our loves again! + +LEPIDUS Happily, amen! + +MARK ANTONY I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey; + For he hath laid strange courtesies and great + Of late upon me: I must thank him only, + Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; + At heel of that, defy him. + +LEPIDUS Time calls upon's: + Of us must Pompey presently be sought, + Or else he seeks out us. + +MARK ANTONY Where lies he? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR About the mount Misenum. + +MARK ANTONY What is his strength by land? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Great and increasing: but by sea + He is an absolute master. + +MARK ANTONY So is the fame. + Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it: + Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we + The business we have talk'd of. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR With most gladness: + And do invite you to my sister's view, + Whither straight I'll lead you. + +MARK ANTONY Let us, Lepidus, + Not lack your company. + +LEPIDUS Noble Antony, + Not sickness should detain me. + + [Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, + and LEPIDUS] + +MECAENAS Welcome from Egypt, sir. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaenas! My + honourable friend, Agrippa! + +AGRIPPA Good Enobarbus! + +MECAENAS We have cause to be glad that matters are so well + digested. You stayed well by 't in Egypt. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and + made the night light with drinking. + +MECAENAS Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and + but twelve persons there; is this true? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more + monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. + +MECAENAS She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to + her. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up + his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. + +AGRIPPA There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised + well for her. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I will tell you. + The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, + Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; + Purple the sails, and so perfumed that + The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, + Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made + The water which they beat to follow faster, + As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, + It beggar'd all description: she did lie + In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue-- + O'er-picturing that Venus where we see + The fancy outwork nature: on each side her + Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, + With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem + To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, + And what they undid did. + +AGRIPPA O, rare for Antony! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, + So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, + And made their bends adornings: at the helm + A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle + Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, + That yarely frame the office. From the barge + A strange invisible perfume hits the sense + Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast + Her people out upon her; and Antony, + Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone, + Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, + Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, + And made a gap in nature. + +AGRIPPA Rare Egyptian! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, + Invited her to supper: she replied, + It should be better he became her guest; + Which she entreated: our courteous Antony, + Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak, + Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast, + And for his ordinary pays his heart + For what his eyes eat only. + +AGRIPPA Royal wench! + She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed: + He plough'd her, and she cropp'd. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I saw her once + Hop forty paces through the public street; + And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, + That she did make defect perfection, + And, breathless, power breathe forth. + +MECAENAS Now Antony must leave her utterly. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Never; he will not: + Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale + Her infinite variety: other women cloy + The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry + Where most she satisfies; for vilest things + Become themselves in her: that the holy priests + Bless her when she is riggish. + +MECAENAS If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle + The heart of Antony, Octavia is + A blessed lottery to him. + +AGRIPPA Let us go. + Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest + Whilst you abide here. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Humbly, sir, I thank you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, OCTAVIA between + them, and Attendants] + +MARK ANTONY The world and my great office will sometimes + Divide me from your bosom. + +OCTAVIA All which time + Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers + To them for you. + +MARK ANTONY Good night, sir. My Octavia, + Read not my blemishes in the world's report: + I have not kept my square; but that to come + Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady. + Good night, sir. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Good night. + + [Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and OCTAVIA] + + [Enter Soothsayer] + +MARK ANTONY Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt? + +Soothsayer Would I had never come from thence, nor you Thither! + +MARK ANTONY If you can, your reason? + +Soothsayer I see it in + My motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet + Hie you to Egypt again. + +MARK ANTONY Say to me, + Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine? + +Soothsayer Caesar's. + Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side: + Thy demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is + Noble, courageous high, unmatchable, + Where Caesar's is not; but, near him, thy angel + Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore + Make space enough between you. + +MARK ANTONY Speak this no more. + +Soothsayer To none but thee; no more, but when to thee. + If thou dost play with him at any game, + Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck, + He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens, + When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit + Is all afraid to govern thee near him; + But, he away, 'tis noble. + +MARK ANTONY Get thee gone: + Say to Ventidius I would speak with him: + + [Exit Soothsayer] + + He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap, + He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him; + And in our sports my better cunning faints + Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds; + His cocks do win the battle still of mine, + When it is all to nought; and his quails ever + Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt: + And though I make this marriage for my peace, + I' the east my pleasure lies. + + [Enter VENTIDIUS] + + O, come, Ventidius, + You must to Parthia: your commission's ready; + Follow me, and receive't. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV The same. A street. + + + [Enter LEPIDUS, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA] + +LEPIDUS Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten + Your generals after. + +AGRIPPA Sir, Mark Antony + Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow. + +LEPIDUS Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, + Which will become you both, farewell. + +MECAENAS We shall, + As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount + Before you, Lepidus. + +LEPIDUS Your way is shorter; + My purposes do draw me much about: + You'll win two days upon me. + + +MECAENAS | + | Sir, good success! +AGRIPPA | + + +LEPIDUS Farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS] + +CLEOPATRA Give me some music; music, moody food + Of us that trade in love. + +Attendants The music, ho! + + [Enter MARDIAN] + +CLEOPATRA Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, Charmian. + +CHARMIAN My arm is sore; best play with Mardian. + +CLEOPATRA As well a woman with an eunuch play'd + As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir? + +MARDIAN As well as I can, madam. + +CLEOPATRA And when good will is show'd, though't come + too short, + The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now: + Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there, + My music playing far off, I will betray + Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce + Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, + I'll think them every one an Antony, + And say 'Ah, ha! you're caught.' + +CHARMIAN 'Twas merry when + You wager'd on your angling; when your diver + Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he + With fervency drew up. + +CLEOPATRA That time,--O times!-- + I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night + I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, + Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed; + Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst + I wore his sword Philippan. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + O, from Italy + Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, + That long time have been barren. + +Messenger Madam, madam,-- + +CLEOPATRA Antonius dead!--If thou say so, villain, + Thou kill'st thy mistress: but well and free, + If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here + My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings + Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. + +Messenger First, madam, he is well. + +CLEOPATRA Why, there's more gold. + But, sirrah, mark, we use + To say the dead are well: bring it to that, + The gold I give thee will I melt and pour + Down thy ill-uttering throat. + +Messenger Good madam, hear me. + +CLEOPATRA Well, go to, I will; + But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony + Be free and healthful,--so tart a favour + To trumpet such good tidings! If not well, + Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes, + Not like a formal man. + +Messenger Will't please you hear me? + +CLEOPATRA I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st: + Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well, + Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, + I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail + Rich pearls upon thee. + +Messenger Madam, he's well. + +CLEOPATRA Well said. + +Messenger And friends with Caesar. + +CLEOPATRA Thou'rt an honest man. + +Messenger Caesar and he are greater friends than ever. + +CLEOPATRA Make thee a fortune from me. + +Messenger But yet, madam,-- + +CLEOPATRA I do not like 'But yet,' it does allay + The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'! + 'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, + Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, + The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar: + In state of health thou say'st; and thou say'st free. + +Messenger Free, madam! no; I made no such report: + He's bound unto Octavia. + +CLEOPATRA For what good turn? + +Messenger For the best turn i' the bed. + +CLEOPATRA I am pale, Charmian. + +Messenger Madam, he's married to Octavia. + +CLEOPATRA The most infectious pestilence upon thee! + + [Strikes him down] + +Messenger Good madam, patience. + +CLEOPATRA What say you? Hence, + + [Strikes him again] + + Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes + Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head: + + [She hales him up and down] + + Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine, + Smarting in lingering pickle. + +Messenger Gracious madam, + I that do bring the news made not the match. + +CLEOPATRA Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee, + And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst + Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage; + And I will boot thee with what gift beside + Thy modesty can beg. + +Messenger He's married, madam. + +CLEOPATRA Rogue, thou hast lived too long. + + [Draws a knife] + +Messenger Nay, then I'll run. + What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. + + [Exit] + +CHARMIAN Good madam, keep yourself within yourself: + The man is innocent. + +CLEOPATRA Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt. + Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures + Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again: + Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call. + +CHARMIAN He is afeard to come. + +CLEOPATRA I will not hurt him. + + [Exit CHARMIAN] + + These hands do lack nobility, that they strike + A meaner than myself; since I myself + Have given myself the cause. + + [Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger] + + Come hither, sir. + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news: give to a gracious message. + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves when they be felt. + +Messenger I have done my duty. + +CLEOPATRA Is he married? + I cannot hate thee worser than I do, + If thou again say 'Yes.' + +Messenger He's married, madam. + +CLEOPATRA The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still? + +Messenger Should I lie, madam? + +CLEOPATRA O, I would thou didst, + So half my Egypt were submerged and made + A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence: + Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me + Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? + +Messenger I crave your highness' pardon. + +CLEOPATRA He is married? + +Messenger Take no offence that I would not offend you: + To punish me for what you make me do. + Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia. + +CLEOPATRA O, that his fault should make a knave of thee, + That art not what thou'rt sure of! Get thee hence: + The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome + Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand, + And be undone by 'em! + + [Exit Messenger] + +CHARMIAN Good your highness, patience. + +CLEOPATRA In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar. + +CHARMIAN Many times, madam. + +CLEOPATRA I am paid for't now. + Lead me from hence: + I faint: O Iras, Charmian! 'tis no matter. + Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him + Report the feature of Octavia, her years, + Her inclination, let him not leave out + The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly. + + [Exit ALEXAS] + + Let him for ever go:--let him not--Charmian, + Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, + The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas + + [To MARDIAN] + + Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian, + But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI Near Misenum. + + + [Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door, + with drum and trumpet: at another, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, + MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MECAENAS, + with Soldiers marching] + +POMPEY Your hostages I have, so have you mine; + And we shall talk before we fight. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Most meet + That first we come to words; and therefore have we + Our written purposes before us sent; + Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know + If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword, + And carry back to Sicily much tall youth + That else must perish here. + +POMPEY To you all three, + The senators alone of this great world, + Chief factors for the gods, I do not know + Wherefore my father should revengers want, + Having a son and friends; since Julius Caesar, + Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, + There saw you labouring for him. What was't + That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what + Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman, Brutus, + With the arm'd rest, courtiers and beauteous freedom, + To drench the Capitol; but that they would + Have one man but a man? And that is it + Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen + The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant + To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome + Cast on my noble father. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Take your time. + +MARK ANTONY Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails; + We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st + How much we do o'er-count thee. + +POMPEY At land, indeed, + Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house: + But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself, + Remain in't as thou mayst. + +LEPIDUS Be pleased to tell us-- + For this is from the present--how you take + The offers we have sent you. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR There's the point. + +MARK ANTONY Which do not be entreated to, but weigh + What it is worth embraced. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR And what may follow, + To try a larger fortune. + +POMPEY You have made me offer + Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must + Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send + Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon + To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back + Our targes undinted. + + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR | + | +MARK ANTONY | That's our offer. + | +LEPIDUS | + + +POMPEY Know, then, + I came before you here a man prepared + To take this offer: but Mark Antony + Put me to some impatience: though I lose + The praise of it by telling, you must know, + When Caesar and your brother were at blows, + Your mother came to Sicily and did find + Her welcome friendly. + +MARK ANTONY I have heard it, Pompey; + And am well studied for a liberal thanks + Which I do owe you. + +POMPEY Let me have your hand: + I did not think, sir, to have met you here. + +MARK ANTONY The beds i' the east are soft; and thanks to you, + That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither; + For I have gain'd by 't. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Since I saw you last, + There is a change upon you. + +POMPEY Well, I know not + What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; + But in my bosom shall she never come, + To make my heart her vassal. + +LEPIDUS Well met here. + +POMPEY I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed: + I crave our composition may be written, + And seal'd between us. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR That's the next to do. + +POMPEY We'll feast each other ere we part; and let's + Draw lots who shall begin. + +MARK ANTONY That will I, Pompey. + +POMPEY No, Antony, take the lot: but, first + Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery + Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar + Grew fat with feasting there. + +MARK ANTONY You have heard much. + +POMPEY I have fair meanings, sir. + +MARK ANTONY And fair words to them. + +POMPEY Then so much have I heard: + And I have heard, Apollodorus carried-- + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS No more of that: he did so. + +POMPEY What, I pray you? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress. + +POMPEY I know thee now: how farest thou, soldier? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Well; + And well am like to do; for, I perceive, + Four feasts are toward. + +POMPEY Let me shake thy hand; + I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight, + When I have envied thy behavior. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Sir, + I never loved you much; but I ha' praised ye, + When you have well deserved ten times as much + As I have said you did. + +POMPEY Enjoy thy plainness, + It nothing ill becomes thee. + Aboard my galley I invite you all: + Will you lead, lords? + + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR | + | +MARK ANTONY | Show us the way, sir. + | +LEPIDUS | + + +POMPEY Come. + + [Exeunt all but MENAS and ENOBARBUS] + +MENAS [Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have + made this treaty.--You and I have known, sir. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS At sea, I think. + +MENAS We have, sir. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS You have done well by water. + +MENAS And you by land. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I will praise any man that will praise me; though it + cannot be denied what I have done by land. + +MENAS Nor what I have done by water. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Yes, something you can deny for your own + safety: you have been a great thief by sea. + +MENAS And you by land. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS There I deny my land service. But give me your + hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they + might take two thieves kissing. + +MENAS All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS But there is never a fair woman has a true face. + +MENAS No slander; they steal hearts. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS We came hither to fight with you. + +MENAS For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. + Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS If he do, sure, he cannot weep't back again. + +MENAS You've said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony + here: pray you, is he married to Cleopatra? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Caesar's sister is called Octavia. + +MENAS True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius. + +MENAS Pray ye, sir? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS 'Tis true. + +MENAS Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would + not prophesy so. + +MENAS I think the policy of that purpose made more in the + marriage than the love of the parties. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I think so too. But you shall find, the band that + seems to tie their friendship together will be the + very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a + holy, cold, and still conversation. + +MENAS Who would not have his wife so? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony. + He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the + sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar; and, as + I said before, that which is the strength of their + amity shall prove the immediate author of their + variance. Antony will use his affection where it is: + he married but his occasion here. + +MENAS And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard? + I have a health for you. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I shall take it, sir: we have used our throats in Egypt. + +MENAS Come, let's away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT II + + +SCENE VII On board POMPEY's galley, off Misenum. + + + [Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with + a banquet] + +First Servant Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are + ill-rooted already: the least wind i' the world + will blow them down. + +Second Servant Lepidus is high-coloured. + +First Servant They have made him drink alms-drink. + +Second Servant As they pinch one another by the disposition, he + cries out 'No more;' reconciles them to his + entreaty, and himself to the drink. + +First Servant But it raises the greater war between him and + his discretion. + +Second Servant Why, this is to have a name in great men's + fellowship: I had as lief have a reed that will do + me no service as a partisan I could not heave. + +First Servant To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen + to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be, + which pitifully disaster the cheeks. + + [A sennet sounded. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK + ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MECAENAS, + DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other captains] + +MARK ANTONY [To OCTAVIUS CAESAR] Thus do they, sir: they take + the flow o' the Nile + By certain scales i' the pyramid; they know, + By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth + Or foison follow: the higher Nilus swells, + The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman + Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, + And shortly comes to harvest. + +LEPIDUS You've strange serpents there. + +MARK ANTONY Ay, Lepidus. + +LEPIDUS Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the + operation of your sun: so is your crocodile. + +MARK ANTONY They are so. + +POMPEY Sit,--and some wine! A health to Lepidus! + +LEPIDUS I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Not till you have slept; I fear me you'll be in till then. + +LEPIDUS Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' + pyramises are very goodly things; without + contradiction, I have heard that. + +MENAS [Aside to POMPEY] Pompey, a word. + +POMPEY [Aside to MENAS] Say in mine ear: + what is't? + +MENAS [Aside to POMPEY] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech + thee, captain, + And hear me speak a word. + +POMPEY [Aside to MENAS] Forbear me till anon. + This wine for Lepidus! + +LEPIDUS What manner o' thing is your crocodile? + +MARK ANTONY It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is as broad + as it hath breadth: it is just so high as it is, + and moves with its own organs: it lives by that + which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of + it, it transmigrates. + +LEPIDUS What colour is it of? + +MARK ANTONY Of it own colour too. + +LEPIDUS 'Tis a strange serpent. + +MARK ANTONY 'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Will this description satisfy him? + +MARK ANTONY With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a + very epicure. + +POMPEY [Aside to MENAS] Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of + that? away! + Do as I bid you. Where's this cup I call'd for? + +MENAS [Aside to POMPEY] If for the sake of merit thou + wilt hear me, + Rise from thy stool. + +POMPEY [Aside to MENAS] I think thou'rt mad. + The matter? + + [Rises, and walks aside] + +MENAS I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. + +POMPEY Thou hast served me with much faith. What's else to say? + Be jolly, lords. + +MARK ANTONY These quick-sands, Lepidus, + Keep off them, for you sink. + +MENAS Wilt thou be lord of all the world? + +POMPEY What say'st thou? + +MENAS Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice. + +POMPEY How should that be? + +MENAS But entertain it, + And, though thou think me poor, I am the man + Will give thee all the world. + +POMPEY Hast thou drunk well? + +MENAS Now, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. + Thou art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove: + Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips, + Is thine, if thou wilt ha't. + +POMPEY Show me which way. + +MENAS These three world-sharers, these competitors, + Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable; + And, when we are put off, fall to their throats: + All there is thine. + +POMPEY Ah, this thou shouldst have done, + And not have spoke on't! In me 'tis villany; + In thee't had been good service. Thou must know, + 'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour; + Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue + Hath so betray'd thine act: being done unknown, + I should have found it afterwards well done; + But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. + +MENAS [Aside] For this, + I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more. + Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, + Shall never find it more. + +POMPEY This health to Lepidus! + +MARK ANTONY Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Here's to thee, Menas! + +MENAS Enobarbus, welcome! + +POMPEY Fill till the cup be hid. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS There's a strong fellow, Menas. + + [Pointing to the Attendant who carries off LEPIDUS] + +MENAS Why? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS A' bears the third part of the world, man; see'st + not? + +MENAS The third part, then, is drunk: would it were all, + That it might go on wheels! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Drink thou; increase the reels. + +MENAS Come. + +POMPEY This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. + +MARK ANTONY It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho? + Here is to Caesar! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I could well forbear't. + It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain, + And it grows fouler. + +MARK ANTONY Be a child o' the time. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Possess it, I'll make answer: + But I had rather fast from all four days + Than drink so much in one. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Ha, my brave emperor! + + [To MARK ANTONY] + + Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, + And celebrate our drink? + +POMPEY Let's ha't, good soldier. + +MARK ANTONY Come, let's all take hands, + Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense + In soft and delicate Lethe. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS All take hands. + Make battery to our ears with the loud music: + The while I'll place you: then the boy shall sing; + The holding every man shall bear as loud + As his strong sides can volley. + + [Music plays. DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS places them + hand in hand] + THE SONG. + + Come, thou monarch of the vine, + Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! + In thy fats our cares be drown'd, + With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd: + Cup us, till the world go round, + Cup us, till the world go round! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother, + Let me request you off: our graver business + Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part; + You see we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarb + Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue + Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost + Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night. + Good Antony, your hand. + +POMPEY I'll try you on the shore. + +MARK ANTONY And shall, sir; give's your hand. + +POMPEY O Antony, + You have my father's house,--But, what? we are friends. + Come, down into the boat. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Take heed you fall not. + + [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and MENAS] + + Menas, I'll not on shore. + +MENAS No, to my cabin. + These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what! + Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell + To these great fellows: sound and be hang'd, sound out! + + [Sound a flourish, with drums] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Ho! says a' There's my cap. + +MENAS Ho! Noble captain, come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A plain in Syria. + + + [Enter VENTIDIUS as it were in triumph, with SILIUS, + and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead + body of PACORUS borne before him] + +VENTIDIUS Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now + Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death + Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body + Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, + Pays this for Marcus Crassus. + +SILIUS Noble Ventidius, + Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm, + The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media, + Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither + The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony + Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and + Put garlands on thy head. + +VENTIDIUS O Silius, Silius, + I have done enough; a lower place, note well, + May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius; + Better to leave undone, than by our deed + Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away. + Caesar and Antony have ever won + More in their officer than person: Sossius, + One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, + For quick accumulation of renown, + Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favour. + Who does i' the wars more than his captain can + Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition, + The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, + Than gain which darkens him. + I could do more to do Antonius good, + But 'twould offend him; and in his offence + Should my performance perish. + +SILIUS Thou hast, Ventidius, + that + Without the which a soldier, and his sword, + Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony! + +VENTIDIUS I'll humbly signify what in his name, + That magical word of war, we have effected; + How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks, + The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia + We have jaded out o' the field. + +SILIUS Where is he now? + +VENTIDIUS He purposeth to Athens: whither, with what haste + The weight we must convey with's will permit, + We shall appear before him. On there; pass along! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Rome. An ante-chamber in OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house. + + + [Enter AGRIPPA at one door, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS + at another] + +AGRIPPA What, are the brothers parted? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone; + The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps + To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus, + Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled + With the green sickness. + +AGRIPPA 'Tis a noble Lepidus. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS A very fine one: O, how he loves Caesar! + +AGRIPPA Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men. + +AGRIPPA What's Antony? The god of Jupiter. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Spake you of Caesar? How! the non-pareil! + +AGRIPPA O Antony! O thou Arabian bird! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar:' go no further. + +AGRIPPA Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS But he loves Caesar best; yet he loves Antony: + Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, + poets, cannot + Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho! + His love to Antony. But as for Caesar, + Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. + +AGRIPPA Both he loves. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS They are his shards, and he their beetle. + + [Trumpets within] + So; + This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa. + +AGRIPPA Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell. + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA] + +MARK ANTONY No further, sir. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You take from me a great part of myself; + Use me well in 't. Sister, prove such a wife + As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band + Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony, + Let not the piece of virtue, which is set + Betwixt us as the cement of our love, + To keep it builded, be the ram to batter + The fortress of it; for better might we + Have loved without this mean, if on both parts + This be not cherish'd. + +MARK ANTONY Make me not offended + In your distrust. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I have said. + +MARK ANTONY You shall not find, + Though you be therein curious, the least cause + For what you seem to fear: so, the gods keep you, + And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends! + We will here part. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well: + The elements be kind to thee, and make + Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well. + +OCTAVIA My noble brother! + +MARK ANTONY The April 's in her eyes: it is love's spring, + And these the showers to bring it on. Be cheerful. + +OCTAVIA Sir, look well to my husband's house; and-- + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR What, Octavia? + +OCTAVIA I'll tell you in your ear. + +MARK ANTONY Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can + Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's + down-feather, + That stands upon the swell at full of tide, + And neither way inclines. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside to AGRIPPA] Will Caesar weep? + +AGRIPPA [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] He has a cloud in 's face. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside to AGRIPPA] He were the worse for that, + were he a horse; + So is he, being a man. + +AGRIPPA [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] Why, Enobarbus, + When Antony found Julius Caesar dead, + He cried almost to roaring; and he wept + When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside to AGRIPPA] That year, indeed, he was + troubled with a rheum; + What willingly he did confound he wail'd, + Believe't, till I wept too. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR No, sweet Octavia, + You shall hear from me still; the time shall not + Out-go my thinking on you. + +MARK ANTONY Come, sir, come; + I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love: + Look, here I have you; thus I let you go, + And give you to the gods. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Adieu; be happy! + +LEPIDUS Let all the number of the stars give light + To thy fair way! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Farewell, farewell! + + [Kisses OCTAVIA] + +MARK ANTONY Farewell! + + [Trumpets sound. Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS] + +CLEOPATRA Where is the fellow? + +ALEXAS Half afeard to come. + +CLEOPATRA Go to, go to. + + [Enter the Messenger as before] + + Come hither, sir. + +ALEXAS Good majesty, + Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you + But when you are well pleased. + +CLEOPATRA That Herod's head + I'll have: but how, when Antony is gone + Through whom I might command it? Come thou near. + +Messenger Most gracious majesty,-- + +CLEOPATRA Didst thou behold Octavia? + +Messenger Ay, dread queen. + +CLEOPATRA Where? + +Messenger Madam, in Rome; + I look'd her in the face, and saw her led + Between her brother and Mark Antony. + +CLEOPATRA Is she as tall as me? + +Messenger She is not, madam. + +CLEOPATRA Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low? + +Messenger Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced. + +CLEOPATRA That's not so good: he cannot like her long. + +CHARMIAN Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible. + +CLEOPATRA I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish! + What majesty is in her gait? Remember, + If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. + +Messenger She creeps: + Her motion and her station are as one; + She shows a body rather than a life, + A statue than a breather. + +CLEOPATRA Is this certain? + +Messenger Or I have no observance. + +CHARMIAN Three in Egypt + Cannot make better note. + +CLEOPATRA He's very knowing; + I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet: + The fellow has good judgment. + +CHARMIAN Excellent. + +CLEOPATRA Guess at her years, I prithee. + +Messenger Madam, + She was a widow,-- + +CLEOPATRA Widow! Charmian, hark. + +Messenger And I do think she's thirty. + +CLEOPATRA Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round? + +Messenger Round even to faultiness. + +CLEOPATRA For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so. + Her hair, what colour? + +Messenger Brown, madam: and her forehead + As low as she would wish it. + +CLEOPATRA There's gold for thee. + Thou must not take my former sharpness ill: + I will employ thee back again; I find thee + Most fit for business: go make thee ready; + Our letters are prepared. + + [Exit Messenger] + +CHARMIAN A proper man. + +CLEOPATRA Indeed, he is so: I repent me much + That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him, + This creature's no such thing. + +CHARMIAN Nothing, madam. + +CLEOPATRA The man hath seen some majesty, and should know. + +CHARMIAN Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend, + And serving you so long! + +CLEOPATRA I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian: + But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me + Where I will write. All may be well enough. + +CHARMIAN I warrant you, madam. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + +SCENE IV Athens. A room in MARK ANTONY's house. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and OCTAVIA] + +MARK ANTONY Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,-- + That were excusable, that, and thousands more + Of semblable import,--but he hath waged + New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it + To public ear: + Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not + But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly + He vented them; most narrow measure lent me: + When the best hint was given him, he not took't, + Or did it from his teeth. + +OCTAVIA O my good lord, + Believe not all; or, if you must believe, + Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, + If this division chance, ne'er stood between, + Praying for both parts: + The good gods me presently, + When I shall pray, 'O bless my lord and husband!' + Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, + 'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother, + Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway + 'Twixt these extremes at all. + +MARK ANTONY Gentle Octavia, + Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks + Best to preserve it: if I lose mine honour, + I lose myself: better I were not yours + Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested, + Yourself shall go between 's: the mean time, lady, + I'll raise the preparation of a war + Shall stain your brother: make your soonest haste; + So your desires are yours. + +OCTAVIA Thanks to my lord. + The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak, + Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be + As if the world should cleave, and that slain men + Should solder up the rift. + +MARK ANTONY When it appears to you where this begins, + Turn your displeasure that way: for our faults + Can never be so equal, that your love + Can equally move with them. Provide your going; + Choose your own company, and command what cost + Your heart has mind to. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V The same. Another room. + + + [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS How now, friend Eros! + +EROS There's strange news come, sir. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS What, man? + +EROS Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS This is old: what is the success? + +EROS Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst + Pompey, presently denied him rivality; would not let + him partake in the glory of the action: and not + resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly + wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: so + the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more; + And throw between them all the food thou hast, + They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? + +EROS He's walking in the garden--thus; and spurns + The rush that lies before him; cries, 'Fool Lepidus!' + And threats the throat of that his officer + That murder'd Pompey. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Our great navy's rigg'd. + +EROS For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius; + My lord desires you presently: my news + I might have told hereafter. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS 'Twill be naught: + But let it be. Bring me to Antony. + +EROS Come, sir. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI Rome. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's house. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Contemning Rome, he has done all this, and more, + In Alexandria: here's the manner of 't: + I' the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, + Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold + Were publicly enthroned: at the feet sat + Caesarion, whom they call my father's son, + And all the unlawful issue that their lust + Since then hath made between them. Unto her + He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her + Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, + Absolute queen. + +MECAENAS This in the public eye? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I' the common show-place, where they exercise. + His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings: + Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia. + He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd + Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia: she + In the habiliments of the goddess Isis + That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience, + As 'tis reported, so. + +MECAENAS Let Rome be thus Inform'd. + +AGRIPPA Who, queasy with his insolence + Already, will their good thoughts call from him. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR The people know it; and have now received + His accusations. + +AGRIPPA Who does he accuse? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Caesar: and that, having in Sicily + Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him + His part o' the isle: then does he say, he lent me + Some shipping unrestored: lastly, he frets + That Lepidus of the triumvirate + Should be deposed; and, being, that we detain + All his revenue. + +AGRIPPA Sir, this should be answer'd. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR 'Tis done already, and the messenger gone. + I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel; + That he his high authority abused, + And did deserve his change: for what I have conquer'd, + I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia, + And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I + Demand the like. + +MECAENAS He'll never yield to that. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Nor must not then be yielded to in this. + + [Enter OCTAVIA with her train] + +OCTAVIA Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR That ever I should call thee castaway! + +OCTAVIA You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Why have you stol'n upon us thus! You come not + Like Caesar's sister: the wife of Antony + Should have an army for an usher, and + The neighs of horse to tell of her approach + Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way + Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, + Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust + Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, + Raised by your populous troops: but you are come + A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented + The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, + Is often left unloved; we should have met you + By sea and land; supplying every stage + With an augmented greeting. + +OCTAVIA Good my lord, + To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did + On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, + Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted + My grieved ear withal; whereon, I begg'd + His pardon for return. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Which soon he granted, + Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him. + +OCTAVIA Do not say so, my lord. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR I have eyes upon him, + And his affairs come to me on the wind. + Where is he now? + +OCTAVIA My lord, in Athens. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra + Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire + Up to a whore; who now are levying + The kings o' the earth for war; he hath assembled + Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus, + Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king + Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; + King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont; + Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king + Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas, + The kings of Mede and Lycaonia, + With a more larger list of sceptres. + +OCTAVIA Ay me, most wretched, + That have my heart parted betwixt two friends + That do afflict each other! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Welcome hither: + Your letters did withhold our breaking forth; + Till we perceived, both how you were wrong led, + And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart; + Be you not troubled with the time, which drives + O'er your content these strong necessities; + But let determined things to destiny + Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome; + Nothing more dear to me. You are abused + Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods, + To do you justice, make them ministers + Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort; + And ever welcome to us. + +AGRIPPA Welcome, lady. + +MECAENAS Welcome, dear madam. + Each heart in Rome does love and pity you: + Only the adulterous Antony, most large + In his abominations, turns you off; + And gives his potent regiment to a trull, + That noises it against us. + +OCTAVIA Is it so, sir? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Most certain. Sister, welcome: pray you, + Be ever known to patience: my dear'st sister! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII Near Actium. MARK ANTONY's camp. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +CLEOPATRA I will be even with thee, doubt it not. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS But why, why, why? + +CLEOPATRA Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars, + And say'st it is not fit. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Well, is it, is it? + +CLEOPATRA If not denounced against us, why should not we + Be there in person? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] Well, I could reply: + If we should serve with horse and mares together, + The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear + A soldier and his horse. + +CLEOPATRA What is't you say? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Your presence needs must puzzle Antony; + Take from his heart, take from his brain, + from's time, + What should not then be spared. He is already + Traduced for levity; and 'tis said in Rome + That Photinus an eunuch and your maids + Manage this war. + +CLEOPATRA Sink Rome, and their tongues rot + That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war, + And, as the president of my kingdom, will + Appear there for a man. Speak not against it: + I will not stay behind. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Nay, I have done. + Here comes the emperor. + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and CANIDIUS] + +MARK ANTONY Is it not strange, Canidius, + That from Tarentum and Brundusium + He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, + And take in Toryne? You have heard on't, sweet? + +CLEOPATRA Celerity is never more admired + Than by the negligent. + +MARK ANTONY A good rebuke, + Which might have well becomed the best of men, + To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we + Will fight with him by sea. + +CLEOPATRA By sea! what else? + +CANIDIUS Why will my lord do so? + +MARK ANTONY For that he dares us to't. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS So hath my lord dared him to single fight. + +CANIDIUS Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia. + Where Caesar fought with Pompey: but these offers, + Which serve not for his vantage, be shakes off; + And so should you. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Your ships are not well mann'd; + Your mariners are muleters, reapers, people + Ingross'd by swift impress; in Caesar's fleet + Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought: + Their ships are yare; yours, heavy: no disgrace + Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, + Being prepared for land. + +MARK ANTONY By sea, by sea. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Most worthy sir, you therein throw away + The absolute soldiership you have by land; + Distract your army, which doth most consist + Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted + Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego + The way which promises assurance; and + Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard, + From firm security. + +MARK ANTONY I'll fight at sea. + +CLEOPATRA I have sixty sails, Caesar none better. + +MARK ANTONY Our overplus of shipping will we burn; + And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the head of Actium + Beat the approaching Caesar. But if we fail, + We then can do't at land. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + Thy business? + +Messenger The news is true, my lord; he is descried; + Caesar has taken Toryne. + +MARK ANTONY Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible; + Strange that power should be. Canidius, + Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land, + And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship: + Away, my Thetis! + + [Enter a Soldier] + + How now, worthy soldier? + +Soldier O noble emperor, do not fight by sea; + Trust not to rotten planks: do you misdoubt + This sword and these my wounds? Let the Egyptians + And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we + Have used to conquer, standing on the earth, + And fighting foot to foot. + +MARK ANTONY Well, well: away! + + [Exeunt MARK ANTONY, QUEEN CLEOPATRA, and DOMITIUS + ENOBARBUS] + +Soldier By Hercules, I think I am i' the right. + +CANIDIUS Soldier, thou art: but his whole action grows + Not in the power on't: so our leader's led, + And we are women's men. + +Soldier You keep by land + The legions and the horse whole, do you not? + +CANIDIUS Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, + Publicola, and Caelius, are for sea: + But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's + Carries beyond belief. + +Soldier While he was yet in Rome, + His power went out in such distractions as + Beguiled all spies. + +CANIDIUS Who's his lieutenant, hear you? + +Soldier They say, one Taurus. + +CANIDIUS Well I know the man. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger The emperor calls Canidius. + +CANIDIUS With news the time's with labour, and throes forth, + Each minute, some. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VIII A plain near Actium. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and TAURUS, with his army, marching] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Taurus! + +TAURUS My lord? + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Strike not by land; keep whole: provoke not battle, + Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed + The prescript of this scroll: our fortune lies + Upon this jump. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IX Another part of the plain. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +MARK ANTONY Set we our squadrons on yond side o' the hill, + In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place + We may the number of the ships behold, + And so proceed accordingly. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + +SCENE X Another part of the plain. + + + [CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over + the stage; and TAURUS, the lieutenant of OCTAVIUS + CAESAR, the other way. After their going in, is + heard the noise of a sea-fight] + + [Alarum. Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Naught, naught all, naught! I can behold no longer: + The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, + With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder: + To see't mine eyes are blasted. + + [Enter SCARUS] + +SCARUS Gods and goddesses, + All the whole synod of them! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS What's thy passion! + +SCARUS The greater cantle of the world is lost + With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away + Kingdoms and provinces. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS How appears the fight? + +SCARUS On our side like the token'd pestilence, + Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,-- + Whom leprosy o'ertake!--i' the midst o' the fight, + When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd, + Both as the same, or rather ours the elder, + The breese upon her, like a cow in June, + Hoists sails and flies. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS That I beheld: + Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not + Endure a further view. + +SCARUS She once being loof'd, + The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, + Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard, + Leaving the fight in height, flies after her: + I never saw an action of such shame; + Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before + Did violate so itself. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Alack, alack! + + [Enter CANIDIUS] + +CANIDIUS Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, + And sinks most lamentably. Had our general + Been what he knew himself, it had gone well: + O, he has given example for our flight, + Most grossly, by his own! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Ay, are you thereabouts? + Why, then, good night indeed. + +CANIDIUS Toward Peloponnesus are they fled. + +SCARUS 'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend + What further comes. + +CANIDIUS To Caesar will I render + My legions and my horse: six kings already + Show me the way of yielding. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I'll yet follow + The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason + Sits in the wind against me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE XI Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY with Attendants] + +MARK ANTONY Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't; + It is ashamed to bear me! Friends, come hither: + I am so lated in the world, that I + Have lost my way for ever: I have a ship + Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly, + And make your peace with Caesar. + +All Fly! not we. + +MARK ANTONY I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards + To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone; + I have myself resolved upon a course + Which has no need of you; be gone: + My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O, + I follow'd that I blush to look upon: + My very hairs do mutiny; for the white + Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them + For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall + Have letters from me to some friends that will + Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad, + Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint + Which my despair proclaims; let that be left + Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway: + I will possess you of that ship and treasure. + Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now: + Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command, + Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by. + + [Sits down] + + [Enter CLEOPATRA led by CHARMIAN and IRAS; EROS + following] + +EROS Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him. + +IRAS Do, most dear queen. + +CHARMIAN Do! why: what else? + +CLEOPATRA Let me sit down. O Juno! + +MARK ANTONY No, no, no, no, no. + +EROS See you here, sir? + +MARK ANTONY O fie, fie, fie! + +CHARMIAN Madam! + +IRAS Madam, O good empress! + +EROS Sir, sir,-- + +MARK ANTONY Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept + His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck + The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I + That the mad Brutus ended: he alone + Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had + In the brave squares of war: yet now--No matter. + +CLEOPATRA Ah, stand by. + +EROS The queen, my lord, the queen. + +IRAS Go to him, madam, speak to him: + He is unqualitied with very shame. + +CLEOPATRA Well then, sustain him: O! + +EROS Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches: + Her head's declined, and death will seize her, but + Your comfort makes the rescue. + +MARK ANTONY I have offended reputation, + A most unnoble swerving. + +EROS Sir, the queen. + +MARK ANTONY O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See, + How I convey my shame out of thine eyes + By looking back what I have left behind + 'Stroy'd in dishonour. + +CLEOPATRA O my lord, my lord, + Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought + You would have follow'd. + +MARK ANTONY Egypt, thou knew'st too well + My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings, + And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my spirit + Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that + Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods + Command me. + +CLEOPATRA O, my pardon! + +MARK ANTONY Now I must + To the young man send humble treaties, dodge + And palter in the shifts of lowness; who + With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased, + Making and marring fortunes. You did know + How much you were my conqueror; and that + My sword, made weak by my affection, would + Obey it on all cause. + +CLEOPATRA Pardon, pardon! + +MARK ANTONY Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates + All that is won and lost: give me a kiss; + Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster; + Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead. + Some wine, within there, and our viands! Fortune knows + We scorn her most when most she offers blows. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE XII Egypt. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Let him appear that's come from Antony. + Know you him? + +DOLABELLA Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster: + An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither + He sends so poor a pinion off his wing, + Which had superfluous kings for messengers + Not many moons gone by. + + [Enter EUPHRONIUS, ambassador from MARK ANTONY] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Approach, and speak. + +EUPHRONIUS Such as I am, I come from Antony: + I was of late as petty to his ends + As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf + To his grand sea. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Be't so: declare thine office. + +EUPHRONIUS Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and + Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted, + He lessens his requests; and to thee sues + To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, + A private man in Athens: this for him. + Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness; + Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves + The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, + Now hazarded to thy grace. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR For Antony, + I have no ears to his request. The queen + Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she + From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, + Or take his life there: this if she perform, + She shall not sue unheard. So to them both. + +EUPHRONIUS Fortune pursue thee! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Bring him through the bands. + + [Exit EUPHRONIUS] + + [To THYREUS] To try eloquence, now 'tis time: dispatch; + From Antony win Cleopatra: promise, + And in our name, what she requires; add more, + From thine invention, offers: women are not + In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure + The ne'er touch'd vestal: try thy cunning, Thyreus; + Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we + Will answer as a law. + +THYREUS Caesar, I go. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, + And what thou think'st his very action speaks + In every power that moves. + +THYREUS Caesar, I shall. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE XIII Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS] + +CLEOPATRA What shall we do, Enobarbus? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Think, and die. + +CLEOPATRA Is Antony or we in fault for this? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Antony only, that would make his will + Lord of his reason. What though you fled + From that great face of war, whose several ranges + Frighted each other? why should he follow? + The itch of his affection should not then + Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point, + When half to half the world opposed, he being + The meered question: 'twas a shame no less + Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, + And leave his navy gazing. + +CLEOPATRA Prithee, peace. + + [Enter MARK ANTONY with EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador] + +MARK ANTONY Is that his answer? + +EUPHRONIUS Ay, my lord. + +MARK ANTONY The queen shall then have courtesy, so she + Will yield us up. + +EUPHRONIUS He says so. + +MARK ANTONY Let her know't. + To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, + And he will fill thy wishes to the brim + With principalities. + +CLEOPATRA That head, my lord? + +MARK ANTONY To him again: tell him he wears the rose + Of youth upon him; from which the world should note + Something particular: his coin, ships, legions, + May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail + Under the service of a child as soon + As i' the command of Caesar: I dare him therefore + To lay his gay comparisons apart, + And answer me declined, sword against sword, + Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me. + + [Exeunt MARK ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will + Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the show, + Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are + A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward + Do draw the inward quality after them, + To suffer all alike. That he should dream, + Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will + Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued + His judgment too. + + [Enter an Attendant] + +Attendant A messenger from CAESAR. + +CLEOPATRA What, no more ceremony? See, my women! + Against the blown rose may they stop their nose + That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir. + + [Exit Attendant] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square. + The loyalty well held to fools does make + Our faith mere folly: yet he that can endure + To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord + Does conquer him that did his master conquer + And earns a place i' the story. + + [Enter THYREUS] + +CLEOPATRA Caesar's will? + +THYREUS Hear it apart. + +CLEOPATRA None but friends: say boldly. + +THYREUS So, haply, are they friends to Antony. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has; + Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master + Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know, + Whose he is we are, and that is, Caesar's. + +THYREUS So. + Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats, + Not to consider in what case thou stand'st, + Further than he is Caesar. + +CLEOPATRA Go on: right royal. + +THYREUS He knows that you embrace not Antony + As you did love, but as you fear'd him. + +CLEOPATRA O! + +THYREUS The scars upon your honour, therefore, he + Does pity, as constrained blemishes, + Not as deserved. + +CLEOPATRA He is a god, and knows + What is most right: mine honour was not yielded, + But conquer'd merely. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] To be sure of that, + I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky, + That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for + Thy dearest quit thee. + + [Exit] + +THYREUS Shall I say to Caesar + What you require of him? for he partly begs + To be desired to give. It much would please him, + That of his fortunes you should make a staff + To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits, + To hear from me you had left Antony, + And put yourself under his shrowd, + The universal landlord. + +CLEOPATRA What's your name? + +THYREUS My name is Thyreus. + +CLEOPATRA Most kind messenger, + Say to great Caesar this: in deputation + I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt + To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel: + Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear + The doom of Egypt. + +THYREUS 'Tis your noblest course. + Wisdom and fortune combating together, + If that the former dare but what it can, + No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay + My duty on your hand. + +CLEOPATRA Your Caesar's father oft, + When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in, + Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, + As it rain'd kisses. + + [Re-enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +MARK ANTONY Favours, by Jove that thunders! + What art thou, fellow? + +THYREUS One that but performs + The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest + To have command obey'd. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] You will be whipp'd. + +MARK ANTONY Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods + and devils! + Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!' + Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth, + And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am + Antony yet. + + [Enter Attendants] + + Take hence this Jack, and whip him. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside] 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp + Than with an old one dying. + +MARK ANTONY Moon and stars! + Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries + That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them + So saucy with the hand of she here,--what's her name, + Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, + Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face, + And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence. + +THYREUS Mark Antony! + + +MARK ANTONY Tug him away: being whipp'd, + Bring him again: this Jack of Caesar's shall + Bear us an errand to him. + + [Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS] + + You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha! + Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, + Forborne the getting of a lawful race, + And by a gem of women, to be abused + By one that looks on feeders? + +CLEOPATRA Good my lord,-- + +MARK ANTONY You have been a boggler ever: + But when we in our viciousness grow hard-- + O misery on't!--the wise gods seel our eyes; + In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us + Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut + To our confusion. + +CLEOPATRA O, is't come to this? + +MARK ANTONY I found you as a morsel cold upon + Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment + Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, + Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have + Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure, + Though you can guess what temperance should be, + You know not what it is. + +CLEOPATRA Wherefore is this? + +MARK ANTONY To let a fellow that will take rewards + And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with + My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal + And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were + Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar + The horned herd! for I have savage cause; + And to proclaim it civilly, were like + A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank + For being yare about him. + + [Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS] + + Is he whipp'd? + +First Attendant Soundly, my lord. + +MARK ANTONY Cried he? and begg'd a' pardon? + +First Attendant He did ask favour. + +MARK ANTONY If that thy father live, let him repent + Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry + To follow Caesar in his triumph, since + Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth + The white hand of a lady fever thee, + Shake thou to look on 't. Get thee back to Caesar, + Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say + He makes me angry with him; for he seems + Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, + Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry; + And at this time most easy 'tis to do't, + When my good stars, that were my former guides, + Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires + Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike + My speech and what is done, tell him he has + Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom + He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, + As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou: + Hence with thy stripes, begone! + + [Exit THYREUS] + +CLEOPATRA Have you done yet? + +MARK ANTONY Alack, our terrene moon + Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone + The fall of Antony! + +CLEOPATRA I must stay his time. + +MARK ANTONY To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes + With one that ties his points? + +CLEOPATRA Not know me yet? + +MARK ANTONY Cold-hearted toward me? + +CLEOPATRA Ah, dear, if I be so, + From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, + And poison it in the source; and the first stone + Drop in my neck: as it determines, so + Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite! + Till by degrees the memory of my womb, + Together with my brave Egyptians all, + By the discandying of this pelleted storm, + Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile + Have buried them for prey! + +MARK ANTONY I am satisfied. + Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where + I will oppose his fate. Our force by land + Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too + Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sea-like. + Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? + If from the field I shall return once more + To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood; + I and my sword will earn our chronicle: + There's hope in't yet. + +CLEOPATRA That's my brave lord! + +MARK ANTONY I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed, + And fight maliciously: for when mine hours + Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives + Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, + And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, + Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me + All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; + Let's mock the midnight bell. + +CLEOPATRA It is my birth-day: + I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord + Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. + +MARK ANTONY We will yet do well. + +CLEOPATRA Call all his noble captains to my lord. + +MARK ANTONY Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force + The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen; + There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight, + I'll make death love me; for I will contend + Even with his pestilent scythe. + + [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, + Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood + The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still, + A diminution in our captain's brain + Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek + Some way to leave him. + + [Exit] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Before Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS, with + his Army; OCTAVIUS CAESAR reading a letter] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power + To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger + He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal combat, + Caesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know + I have many other ways to die; meantime + Laugh at his challenge. + +MECAENAS Caesar must think, + When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted + Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now + Make boot of his distraction: never anger + Made good guard for itself. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Let our best heads + Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles + We mean to fight: within our files there are, + Of those that served Mark Antony but late, + Enough to fetch him in. See it done: + And feast the army; we have store to do't, + And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, + CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, with others] + +MARK ANTONY He will not fight with me, Domitius. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS No. + +MARK ANTONY Why should he not? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, + He is twenty men to one. + +MARK ANTONY To-morrow, soldier, + By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live, + Or bathe my dying honour in the blood + Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.' + +MARK ANTONY Well said; come on. + Call forth my household servants: let's to-night + Be bounteous at our meal. + + [Enter three or four Servitors] + + Give me thy hand, + Thou hast been rightly honest;--so hast thou;-- + Thou,--and thou,--and thou:--you have served me well, + And kings have been your fellows. + +CLEOPATRA [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] What means this? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside to CLEOPATRA] 'Tis one of those odd + tricks which sorrow shoots + Out of the mind. + +MARK ANTONY And thou art honest too. + I wish I could be made so many men, + And all of you clapp'd up together in + An Antony, that I might do you service + So good as you have done. + +All The gods forbid! + +MARK ANTONY Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night: + Scant not my cups; and make as much of me + As when mine empire was your fellow too, + And suffer'd my command. + +CLEOPATRA [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] What does he mean? + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS [Aside to CLEOPATRA] To make his followers weep. + +MARK ANTONY Tend me to-night; + May be it is the period of your duty: + Haply you shall not see me more; or if, + A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow + You'll serve another master. I look on you + As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, + I turn you not away; but, like a master + Married to your good service, stay till death: + Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, + And the gods yield you for't! + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS What mean you, sir, + To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; + And I, an ass, am onion-eyed: for shame, + Transform us not to women. + +MARK ANTONY Ho, ho, ho! + Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus! + Grace grow where those drops fall! + My hearty friends, + You take me in too dolorous a sense; + For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you + To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts, + I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you + Where rather I'll expect victorious life + Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come, + And drown consideration. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. Before the palace. + + + [Enter two Soldiers to their guard] + +First Soldier Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day. + +Second Soldier It will determine one way: fare you well. + Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? + +First Soldier Nothing. What news? + +Second Soldier Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you. + +First Soldier Well, sir, good night. + + [Enter two other Soldiers] + +Second Soldier Soldiers, have careful watch. + +Third Soldier And you. Good night, good night. + + [They place themselves in every corner of the stage] + +Fourth Soldier Here we: and if to-morrow + Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope + Our landmen will stand up. + +Third Soldier 'Tis a brave army, + And full of purpose. + + [Music of the hautboys as under the stage] + +Fourth Soldier Peace! what noise? + +First Soldier List, list! + +Second Soldier Hark! + +First Soldier Music i' the air. + +Third Soldier Under the earth. + +Fourth Soldier It signs well, does it not? + +Third Soldier No. + +First Soldier Peace, I say! + What should this mean? + +Second Soldier 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved, + Now leaves him. + +First Soldier Walk; let's see if other watchmen + Do hear what we do? + + [They advance to another post] + +Second Soldier How now, masters! + +All [Speaking together] How now! + How now! do you hear this? + +First Soldier Ay; is't not strange? + +Third Soldier Do you hear, masters? do you hear? + +First Soldier Follow the noise so far as we have quarter; + Let's see how it will give off. + +All Content. 'Tis strange. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The same. A room in the palace. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and + others attending] + +MARK ANTONY Eros! mine armour, Eros! + +CLEOPATRA Sleep a little. + +MARK ANTONY No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine armour, Eros! + + [Enter EROS with armour] + + Come good fellow, put mine iron on: + If fortune be not ours to-day, it is + Because we brave her: come. + +CLEOPATRA Nay, I'll help too. + What's this for? + +MARK ANTONY Ah, let be, let be! thou art + The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, this. + +CLEOPATRA Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be. + +MARK ANTONY Well, well; + We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow? + Go put on thy defences. + +EROS Briefly, sir. + +CLEOPATRA Is not this buckled well? + +MARK ANTONY Rarely, rarely: + He that unbuckles this, till we do please + To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm. + Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a squire + More tight at this than thou: dispatch. O love, + That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st + The royal occupation! thou shouldst see + A workman in't. + + [Enter an armed Soldier] + + Good morrow to thee; welcome: + Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge: + To business that we love we rise betime, + And go to't with delight. + +Soldier A thousand, sir, + Early though't be, have on their riveted trim, + And at the port expect you. + + [Shout. Trumpets flourish] + + [Enter Captains and Soldiers] + +Captain The morn is fair. Good morrow, general. + +All Good morrow, general. + +MARK ANTONY 'Tis well blown, lads: + This morning, like the spirit of a youth + That means to be of note, begins betimes. + So, so; come, give me that: this way; well said. + Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me: + This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable + + [Kisses her] + + And worthy shameful cheque it were, to stand + On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee + Now, like a man of steel. You that will fight, + Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu. + + [Exeunt MARK ANTONY, EROS, Captains, and Soldiers] + +CHARMIAN Please you, retire to your chamber. + +CLEOPATRA Lead me. + He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might + Determine this great war in single fight! + Then Antony,--but now--Well, on. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Alexandria. MARK ANTONY's camp. + + + [Trumpets sound. Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS; a + Soldier meeting them] + +Soldier The gods make this a happy day to Antony! + +MARK ANTONY Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd + To make me fight at land! + +Soldier Hadst thou done so, + The kings that have revolted, and the soldier + That has this morning left thee, would have still + Follow'd thy heels. + +MARK ANTONY Who's gone this morning? + +Soldier Who! + One ever near thee: call for Enobarbus, + He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp + Say 'I am none of thine.' + +MARK ANTONY What say'st thou? + +Soldier Sir, + He is with Caesar. + +EROS Sir, his chests and treasure + He has not with him. + +MARK ANTONY Is he gone? + +Soldier Most certain. + +MARK ANTONY Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it; + Detain no jot, I charge thee: write to him-- + I will subscribe--gentle adieus and greetings; + Say that I wish he never find more cause + To change a master. O, my fortunes have + Corrupted honest men! Dispatch.--Enobarbus! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp. + + + [Flourish. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, with + DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, and others] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight: + Our will is Antony be took alive; + Make it so known. + +AGRIPPA Caesar, I shall. + + [Exit] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR The time of universal peace is near: + Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world + Shall bear the olive freely. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Antony + Is come into the field. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Go charge Agrippa + Plant those that have revolted in the van, + That Antony may seem to spend his fury + Upon himself. + + [Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry on + Affairs of Antony; there did persuade + Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar, + And leave his master Antony: for this pains + Caesar hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest + That fell away have entertainment, but + No honourable trust. I have done ill; + Of which I do accuse myself so sorely, + That I will joy no more. + + [Enter a Soldier of CAESAR's] + +Soldier Enobarbus, Antony + Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with + His bounty overplus: the messenger + Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now + Unloading of his mules. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I give it you. + +Soldier Mock not, Enobarbus. + I tell you true: best you safed the bringer + Out of the host; I must attend mine office, + Or would have done't myself. Your emperor + Continues still a Jove. + + [Exit] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I am alone the villain of the earth, + And feel I am so most. O Antony, + Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid + My better service, when my turpitude + Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart: + If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean + Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do't, I feel. + I fight against thee! No: I will go seek + Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits + My latter part of life. + + [Exit] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII Field of battle between the camps. + + + [Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA + and others] + +AGRIPPA Retire, we have engaged ourselves too far: + Caesar himself has work, and our oppression + Exceeds what we expected. + + [Exeunt] + + [Alarums. Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS wounded] + +SCARUS O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed! + Had we done so at first, we had droven them home + With clouts about their heads. + +MARK ANTONY Thou bleed'st apace. + +SCARUS I had a wound here that was like a T, + But now 'tis made an H. + +MARK ANTONY They do retire. + +SCARUS We'll beat 'em into bench-holes: I have yet + Room for six scotches more. + + [Enter EROS] + +EROS They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves + For a fair victory. + +SCARUS Let us score their backs, + And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind: + 'Tis sport to maul a runner. + +MARK ANTONY I will reward thee + Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold + For thy good valour. Come thee on. + +SCARUS I'll halt after. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VIII Under the walls of Alexandria. + + + [Alarum. Enter MARK ANTONY, in a march; SCARUS, + with others] + +MARK ANTONY We have beat him to his camp: run one before, + And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow, + Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood + That has to-day escaped. I thank you all; + For doughty-handed are you, and have fought + Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been + Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors. + Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, + Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears + Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss + The honour'd gashes whole. + + [To SCARUS] + + Give me thy hand + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, attended] + + To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, + Make her thanks bless thee. + + [To CLEOPATRA] + + O thou day o' the world, + Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, + Through proof of harness to my heart, and there + Ride on the pants triumphing! + +CLEOPATRA Lord of lords! + O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from + The world's great snare uncaught? + +MARK ANTONY My nightingale, + We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! + though grey + Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we + A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can + Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; + Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand: + Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day + As if a god, in hate of mankind, had + Destroy'd in such a shape. + +CLEOPATRA I'll give thee, friend, + An armour all of gold; it was a king's. + +MARK ANTONY He has deserved it, were it carbuncled + Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand: + Through Alexandria make a jolly march; + Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them: + Had our great palace the capacity + To camp this host, we all would sup together, + And drink carouses to the next day's fate, + Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters, + With brazen din blast you the city's ear; + Make mingle with rattling tabourines; + That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together, + Applauding our approach. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IX OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp. + + + [Sentinels at their post] + +First Soldier If we be not relieved within this hour, + We must return to the court of guard: the night + Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle + By the second hour i' the morn. + +Second Soldier This last day was + A shrewd one to's. + + [Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS O, bear me witness, night,-- + +Third Soldier What man is this? + +Second Soldier Stand close, and list him. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, + When men revolted shall upon record + Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did + Before thy face repent! + +First Soldier Enobarbus! + +Third Soldier Peace! + Hark further. + +DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, + The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me, + That life, a very rebel to my will, + May hang no longer on me: throw my heart + Against the flint and hardness of my fault: + Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, + And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, + Nobler than my revolt is infamous, + Forgive me in thine own particular; + But let the world rank me in register + A master-leaver and a fugitive: + O Antony! O Antony! + + [Dies] + +Second Soldier Let's speak To him. + +First Soldier Let's hear him, for the things he speaks + May concern Caesar. + +Third Soldier Let's do so. But he sleeps. + +First Soldier Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his + Was never yet for sleep. + +Second Soldier Go we to him. + +Third Soldier Awake, sir, awake; speak to us. + +Second Soldier Hear you, sir? + +First Soldier The hand of death hath raught him. + + [Drums afar off] + + Hark! the drums + Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him + To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour + Is fully out. + +Third Soldier Come on, then; + He may recover yet. + + [Exeunt with the body] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE X Between the two camps. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS, with their Army] + +MARK ANTONY Their preparation is to-day by sea; + We please them not by land. + +SCARUS For both, my lord. + +MARK ANTONY I would they'ld fight i' the fire or i' the air; + We'ld fight there too. But this it is; our foot + Upon the hills adjoining to the city + Shall stay with us: order for sea is given; + They have put forth the haven [ ] + Where their appointment we may best discover, + And look on their endeavour. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE XI Another part of the same. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and his Army] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR But being charged, we will be still by land, + Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force + Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, + And hold our best advantage. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE XII Another part of the same. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS] + +MARK ANTONY Yet they are not join'd: where yond pine + does stand, + I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word + Straight, how 'tis like to go. + + [Exit] + +SCARUS Swallows have built + In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers + Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly, + And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony + Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts, + His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear, + Of what he has, and has not. + + [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight] + + [Re-enter MARK ANTONY] + +MARK ANTONY All is lost; + This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me: + My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder + They cast their caps up and carouse together + Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! + 'tis thou + Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart + Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; + For when I am revenged upon my charm, + I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone. + + [Exit SCARUS] + + O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more: + Fortune and Antony part here; even here + Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts + That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave + Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets + On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd, + That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am: + O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,-- + Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home; + Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,-- + Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose, + Beguiled me to the very heart of loss. + What, Eros, Eros! + + [Enter CLEOPATRA] + + Ah, thou spell! Avaunt! + +CLEOPATRA Why is my lord enraged against his love? + +MARK ANTONY Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, + And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee, + And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians: + Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot + Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown + For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let + Patient Octavia plough thy visage up + With her prepared nails. + + [Exit CLEOPATRA] + + 'Tis well thou'rt gone, + If it be well to live; but better 'twere + Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death + Might have prevented many. Eros, ho! + The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me, + Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage: + Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon; + And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club, + Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die: + To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall + Under this plot; she dies for't. Eros, ho! + + [Exit] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE XIII Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN] + +CLEOPATRA Help me, my women! O, he is more mad + Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly + Was never so emboss'd. + +CHARMIAN To the monument! + There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead. + The soul and body rive not more in parting + Than greatness going off. + +CLEOPATRA To the monument! + Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; + Say, that the last I spoke was 'Antony,' + And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian, + And bring me how he takes my death. + To the monument! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE XIV The same. Another room. + + + [Enter MARK ANTONY and EROS] + +MARK ANTONY Eros, thou yet behold'st me? + +EROS Ay, noble lord. + +MARK ANTONY Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish; + A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, + A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, + A forked mountain, or blue promontory + With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, + And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen + these signs; + They are black vesper's pageants. + +EROS Ay, my lord, + +MARK ANTONY That which is now a horse, even with a thought + The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, + As water is in water. + +EROS It does, my lord. + +MARK ANTONY My good knave Eros, now thy captain is + Even such a body: here I am Antony: + Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. + I made these wars for Egypt: and the queen,-- + Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine; + Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto't + A million more, now lost,--she, Eros, has + Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory + Unto an enemy's triumph. + Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us + Ourselves to end ourselves. + + [Enter MARDIAN] + + O! thy vile lady! + She has robb'd me of my sword. + +MARDIAN No, Antony; + My mistress loved thee, and her fortunes mingled + With thine entirely. + +MARK ANTONY Hence, saucy eunuch; peace! + She hath betray'd me and shall die the death. + +MARDIAN Death of one person can be paid but once, + And that she has discharged: what thou wouldst do + Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake + Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!' + Then in the midst a tearing groan did break + The name of Antony; it was divided + Between her heart and lips: she render'd life, + Thy name so buried in her. + +MARK ANTONY Dead, then? + +MARDIAN Dead. + +MARK ANTONY Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done, + And we must sleep. + + [To MARDIAN] + + That thou depart'st hence safe, + Does pay thy labour richly; go. + + [Exit MARDIAN] + + Off, pluck off: + The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep + The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides! + Heart, once be stronger than thy continent, + Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace. + No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go; + You have been nobly borne. From me awhile. + + [Exit EROS] + + I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and + Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now + All length is torture: since the torch is out, + Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour + Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles + Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done. + Eros!--I come, my queen:--Eros!--Stay for me: + Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, + And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze: + Dido and her AEneas shall want troops, + And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros! + + [Re-enter EROS] + +EROS What would my lord? + +MARK ANTONY Since Cleopatra died, + I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods + Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword + Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back + With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack + The courage of a woman; less noble mind + Than she which by her death our Caesar tells + 'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros, + That, when the exigent should come, which now + Is come indeed, when I should see behind me + The inevitable prosecution of + Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, + Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come: + Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. + Put colour in thy cheek. + +EROS The gods withhold me! + Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, + Though enemy, lost aim, and could not? + +MARK ANTONY Eros, + Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see + Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down + His corrigible neck, his face subdued + To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat + Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded + His baseness that ensued? + +EROS I would not see't. + +MARK ANTONY Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured. + Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn + Most useful for thy country. + +EROS O, sir, pardon me! + +MARK ANTONY When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then + To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once; + Or thy precedent services are all + But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come. + +EROS Turn from me, then, that noble countenance, + Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. + +MARK ANTONY Lo thee! + + [Turning from him] + +EROS My sword is drawn. + +MARK ANTONY Then let it do at once + The thing why thou hast drawn it. + +EROS My dear master, + My captain, and my emperor, let me say, + Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell. + +MARK ANTONY 'Tis said, man; and farewell. + +EROS Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? + +MARK ANTONY Now, Eros. + +EROS Why, there then: thus I do escape the sorrow + Of Antony's death. + + [Kills himself] + +MARK ANTONY Thrice-nobler than myself! + Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what + I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros + Have by their brave instruction got upon me + A nobleness in record: but I will be + A bridegroom in my death, and run into't + As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros, + Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus + + [Falling on his sword] + + I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead? + The guard, ho! O, dispatch me! + + [Enter DERCETAS and Guard] + +First Guard What's the noise? + +MARK ANTONY I have done my work in, friends: O, make an end + Of what I have begun. + +Second Guard The star is fall'n. + +First Guard And time is at his period. + +All Alas, and woe! + +MARK ANTONY Let him that loves me strike me dead. + +First Guard Not I. + +Second Guard Nor I. + +Third Guard Nor any one. + + [Exeunt Guard] + +DERCETAS Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. + This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings, + Shall enter me with him. + + [Enter DIOMEDES] + +DIOMEDES Where's Antony? + +DERCETAS There, Diomed there. + +DIOMEDES Lives he? + Wilt thou not answer, man? + + [Exit DERCETAS] + +MARK ANTONY Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me + Sufficing strokes for death. + +DIOMEDES Most absolute lord, + My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. + +MARK ANTONY When did she send thee? + +DIOMEDES Now, my lord. + +MARK ANTONY Where is she? + +DIOMEDES Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear + Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw-- + Which never shall be found--you did suspect + She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage + Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead; + But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent + Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come, + I dread, too late. + +MARK ANTONY Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee. + +DIOMEDES What, ho, the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho! + Come, your lord calls! + + [Enter four or five of the Guard of MARK ANTONY] + +MARK ANTONY Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; + 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. + +First Guard Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear + All your true followers out. + +All Most heavy day! + +MARK ANTONY Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate + To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome + Which comes to punish us, and we punish it + Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: + I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends, + And have my thanks for all. + + [Exeunt, bearing MARK ANTONY] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE XV The same. A monument. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with + CHARMIAN and IRAS] + +CLEOPATRA O Charmian, I will never go from hence. + +CHARMIAN Be comforted, dear madam. + +CLEOPATRA No, I will not: + All strange and terrible events are welcome, + But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, + Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great + As that which makes it. + + [Enter, below, DIOMEDES] + + How now! is he dead? + +DIOMEDES His death's upon him, but not dead. + Look out o' the other side your monument; + His guard have brought him thither. + + [Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard] + +CLEOPATRA O sun, + Burn the great sphere thou movest in! + darkling stand + The varying shore o' the world. O Antony, + Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help; + Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. + +MARK ANTONY Peace! + Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, + But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. + +CLEOPATRA So it should be, that none but Antony + Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so! + +MARK ANTONY I am dying, Egypt, dying; only + I here importune death awhile, until + Of many thousand kisses the poor last + I lay up thy lips. + +CLEOPATRA I dare not, dear,-- + Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not, + Lest I be taken: not the imperious show + Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall + Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, + serpents, have + Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: + Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes + And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour + Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,-- + Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up: + Assist, good friends. + +MARK ANTONY O, quick, or I am gone. + +CLEOPATRA Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! + Our strength is all gone into heaviness, + That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power, + The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, + And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,-- + Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come; + + [They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA] + + And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived: + Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power, + Thus would I wear them out. + +All A heavy sight! + +MARK ANTONY I am dying, Egypt, dying: + Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. + +CLEOPATRA No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, + That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, + Provoked by my offence. + +MARK ANTONY One word, sweet queen: + Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O! + +CLEOPATRA They do not go together. + +MARK ANTONY Gentle, hear me: + None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. + +CLEOPATRA My resolution and my hands I'll trust; + None about Caesar. + +MARK ANTONY The miserable change now at my end + Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts + In feeding them with those my former fortunes + Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world, + The noblest; and do now not basely die, + Not cowardly put off my helmet to + My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman + Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going; + I can no more. + +CLEOPATRA Noblest of men, woo't die? + Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide + In this dull world, which in thy absence is + No better than a sty? O, see, my women, + + [MARK ANTONY dies] + + The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! + O, wither'd is the garland of the war, + The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls + Are level now with men; the odds is gone, + And there is nothing left remarkable + Beneath the visiting moon. + + [Faints] + +CHARMIAN O, quietness, lady! + +IRAS She is dead too, our sovereign. + +CHARMIAN Lady! + +IRAS Madam! + +CHARMIAN O madam, madam, madam! + +IRAS Royal Egypt, Empress! + +CHARMIAN Peace, peace, Iras! + +CLEOPATRA No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded + By such poor passion as the maid that milks + And does the meanest chares. It were for me + To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; + To tell them that this world did equal theirs + Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught; + Patience is scottish, and impatience does + Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin + To rush into the secret house of death, + Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? + What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! + My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, + Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart: + We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, + what's noble, + Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, + And make death proud to take us. Come, away: + This case of that huge spirit now is cold: + Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend + But resolution, and the briefest end. + + [Exeunt; those above bearing off MARK ANTONY's body] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Alexandria. OCTAVIUS CAESAR's camp. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECAENAS, + GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and others, his council of war] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; + Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks + The pauses that he makes. + +DOLABELLA Caesar, I shall. + + [Exit] + + [Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of MARK ANTONY] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest + Appear thus to us? + +DERCETAS I am call'd Dercetas; + Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy + Best to be served: whilst he stood up and spoke, + He was my master; and I wore my life + To spend upon his haters. If thou please + To take me to thee, as I was to him + I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, + I yield thee up my life. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR What is't thou say'st? + +DERCETAS I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR The breaking of so great a thing should make + A greater crack: the round world + Should have shook lions into civil streets, + And citizens to their dens: the death of Antony + Is not a single doom; in the name lay + A moiety of the world. + +DERCETAS He is dead, Caesar: + Not by a public minister of justice, + Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand, + Which writ his honour in the acts it did, + Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, + Splitted the heart. This is his sword; + I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd + With his most noble blood. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Look you sad, friends? + The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings + To wash the eyes of kings. + +AGRIPPA And strange it is, + That nature must compel us to lament + Our most persisted deeds. + +MECAENAS His taints and honours + Waged equal with him. + +AGRIPPA A rarer spirit never + Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us + Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd. + +MECAENAS When such a spacious mirror's set before him, + He needs must see himself. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR O Antony! + I have follow'd thee to this; but we do lance + Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce + Have shown to thee such a declining day, + Or look on thine; we could not stall together + In the whole world: but yet let me lament, + With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts, + That thou, my brother, my competitor + In top of all design, my mate in empire, + Friend and companion in the front of war, + The arm of mine own body, and the heart + Where mine his thoughts did kindle,--that our stars, + Unreconciliable, should divide + Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends-- + But I will tell you at some meeter season: + + [Enter an Egyptian] + + The business of this man looks out of him; + We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you? + +Egyptian A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress, + Confined in all she has, her monument, + Of thy intents desires instruction, + That she preparedly may frame herself + To the way she's forced to. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Bid her have good heart: + She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, + How honourable and how kindly we + Determine for her; for Caesar cannot live + To be ungentle. + +Egyptian So the gods preserve thee! + + [Exit] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say, + We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts + The quality of her passion shall require, + Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke + She do defeat us; for her life in Rome + Would be eternal in our triumph: go, + And with your speediest bring us what she says, + And how you find of her. + +PROCULEIUS Caesar, I shall. + + [Exit] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Gallus, go you along. + + [Exit GALLUS] + + Where's Dolabella, + To second Proculeius? + +All Dolabella! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Let him alone, for I remember now + How he's employ'd: he shall in time be ready. + Go with me to my tent; where you shall see + How hardly I was drawn into this war; + How calm and gentle I proceeded still + In all my writings: go with me, and see + What I can show in this. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Alexandria. A room in the monument. + + + [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS] + +CLEOPATRA My desolation does begin to make + A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar; + Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, + A minister of her will: and it is great + To do that thing that ends all other deeds; + Which shackles accidents and bolts up change; + Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, + The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. + + [Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS, + GALLUS and Soldiers] + +PROCULEIUS Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt; + And bids thee study on what fair demands + Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. + +CLEOPATRA What's thy name? + +PROCULEIUS My name is Proculeius. + +CLEOPATRA Antony + Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but + I do not greatly care to be deceived, + That have no use for trusting. If your master + Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him, + That majesty, to keep decorum, must + No less beg than a kingdom: if he please + To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son, + He gives me so much of mine own, as I + Will kneel to him with thanks. + +PROCULEIUS Be of good cheer; + You're fall'n into a princely hand, fear nothing: + Make your full reference freely to my lord, + Who is so full of grace, that it flows over + On all that need: let me report to him + Your sweet dependency; and you shall find + A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness, + Where he for grace is kneel'd to. + +CLEOPATRA Pray you, tell him + I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him + The greatness he has got. I hourly learn + A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly + Look him i' the face. + +PROCULEIUS This I'll report, dear lady. + Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied + Of him that caused it. + +GALLUS You see how easily she may be surprised: + + [Here PROCULEIUS and two of the Guard ascend the + monument by a ladder placed against a window, and, + having descended, come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of + the Guard unbar and open the gates] + + [To PROCULEIUS and the Guard] + + Guard her till Caesar come. + + [Exit] + +IRAS Royal queen! + +CHARMIAN O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen: + +CLEOPATRA Quick, quick, good hands. + + [Drawing a dagger] + +PROCULEIUS Hold, worthy lady, hold: + + [Seizes and disarms her] + + Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this + Relieved, but not betray'd. + +CLEOPATRA What, of death too, + That rids our dogs of languish? + +PROCULEIUS Cleopatra, + Do not abuse my master's bounty by + The undoing of yourself: let the world see + His nobleness well acted, which your death + Will never let come forth. + +CLEOPATRA Where art thou, death? + Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen + Worthy many babes and beggars! + +PROCULEIUS O, temperance, lady! + +CLEOPATRA Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir; + If idle talk will once be necessary, + I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I'll ruin, + Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I + Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court; + Nor once be chastised with the sober eye + Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up + And show me to the shouting varletry + Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt + Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud + Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies + Blow me into abhorring! rather make + My country's high pyramides my gibbet, + And hang me up in chains! + +PROCULEIUS You do extend + These thoughts of horror further than you shall + Find cause in Caesar. + + [Enter DOLABELLA] + +DOLABELLA Proculeius, + What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows, + And he hath sent for thee: for the queen, + I'll take her to my guard. + +PROCULEIUS So, Dolabella, + It shall content me best: be gentle to her. + + [To CLEOPATRA] + + To Caesar I will speak what you shall please, + If you'll employ me to him. + +CLEOPATRA Say, I would die. + + [Exeunt PROCULEIUS and Soldiers] + +DOLABELLA Most noble empress, you have heard of me? + +CLEOPATRA I cannot tell. + +DOLABELLA Assuredly you know me. + +CLEOPATRA No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. + You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams; + Is't not your trick? + +DOLABELLA I understand not, madam. + +CLEOPATRA I dream'd there was an Emperor Antony: + O, such another sleep, that I might see + But such another man! + +DOLABELLA If it might please ye,-- + +CLEOPATRA His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck + A sun and moon, which kept their course, + and lighted + The little O, the earth. + +DOLABELLA Most sovereign creature,-- + +CLEOPATRA His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm + Crested the world: his voice was propertied + As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; + But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, + He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, + There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas + That grew the more by reaping: his delights + Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above + The element they lived in: in his livery + Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were + As plates dropp'd from his pocket. + +DOLABELLA Cleopatra! + +CLEOPATRA Think you there was, or might be, such a man + As this I dream'd of? + +DOLABELLA Gentle madam, no. + +CLEOPATRA You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. + But, if there be, or ever were, one such, + It's past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff + To vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine + And Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, + Condemning shadows quite. + +DOLABELLA Hear me, good madam. + Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it + As answering to the weight: would I might never + O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel, + By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites + My very heart at root. + +CLEOPATRA I thank you, sir, + Know you what Caesar means to do with me? + +DOLABELLA I am loath to tell you what I would you knew. + +CLEOPATRA Nay, pray you, sir,-- + +DOLABELLA Though he be honourable,-- + +CLEOPATRA He'll lead me, then, in triumph? + +DOLABELLA Madam, he will; I know't. + + [Flourish, and shout within, 'Make way there: + Octavius Caesar!'] + + [Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, + MECAENAS, SELEUCUS, and others of his Train] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Which is the Queen of Egypt? + +DOLABELLA It is the emperor, madam. + + [CLEOPATRA kneels] + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Arise, you shall not kneel: + I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt. + +CLEOPATRA Sir, the gods + Will have it thus; my master and my lord + I must obey. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Take to you no hard thoughts: + The record of what injuries you did us, + Though written in our flesh, we shall remember + As things but done by chance. + +CLEOPATRA Sole sir o' the world, + I cannot project mine own cause so well + To make it clear; but do confess I have + Been laden with like frailties which before + Have often shamed our sex. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Cleopatra, know, + We will extenuate rather than enforce: + If you apply yourself to our intents, + Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find + A benefit in this change; but if you seek + To lay on me a cruelty, by taking + Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself + Of my good purposes, and put your children + To that destruction which I'll guard them from, + If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. + +CLEOPATRA And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we, + Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall + Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. + +CLEOPATRA This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels, + I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued; + Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus? + +SELEUCUS Here, madam. + +CLEOPATRA This is my treasurer: let him speak, my lord, + Upon his peril, that I have reserved + To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. + +SELEUCUS Madam, + I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril, + Speak that which is not. + +CLEOPATRA What have I kept back? + +SELEUCUS Enough to purchase what you have made known. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve + Your wisdom in the deed. + +CLEOPATRA See, Caesar! O, behold, + How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours; + And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. + The ingratitude of this Seleucus does + Even make me wild: O slave, of no more trust + Than love that's hired! What, goest thou back? thou shalt + Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes, + Though they had wings: slave, soulless villain, dog! + O rarely base! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Good queen, let us entreat you. + +CLEOPATRA O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, + That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me, + Doing the honour of thy lordliness + To one so meek, that mine own servant should + Parcel the sum of my disgraces by + Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar, + That I some lady trifles have reserved, + Immoment toys, things of such dignity + As we greet modern friends withal; and say, + Some nobler token I have kept apart + For Livia and Octavia, to induce + Their mediation; must I be unfolded + With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me + Beneath the fall I have. + + [To SELEUCUS] + + Prithee, go hence; + Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits + Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man, + Thou wouldst have mercy on me. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Forbear, Seleucus. + + [Exit SELEUCUS] + +CLEOPATRA Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought + For things that others do; and, when we fall, + We answer others' merits in our name, + Are therefore to be pitied. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Cleopatra, + Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged, + Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be't yours, + Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe, + Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you + Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; + Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen; + For we intend so to dispose you as + Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep: + Our care and pity is so much upon you, + That we remain your friend; and so, adieu. + +CLEOPATRA My master, and my lord! + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Not so. Adieu. + + [Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and his train] + +CLEOPATRA He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not + Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian. + + [Whispers CHARMIAN] + +IRAS Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, + And we are for the dark. + +CLEOPATRA Hie thee again: + I have spoke already, and it is provided; + Go put it to the haste. + +CHARMIAN Madam, I will. + + [Re-enter DOLABELLA] + +DOLABELLA Where is the queen? + +CHARMIAN Behold, sir. + + [Exit] + +CLEOPATRA Dolabella! + +DOLABELLA Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, + Which my love makes religion to obey, + I tell you this: Caesar through Syria + Intends his journey; and within three days + You with your children will he send before: + Make your best use of this: I have perform'd + Your pleasure and my promise. + +CLEOPATRA Dolabella, + I shall remain your debtor. + +DOLABELLA I your servant, + Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar. + +CLEOPATRA Farewell, and thanks. + + [Exit DOLABELLA] + + Now, Iras, what think'st thou? + Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown + In Rome, as well as I mechanic slaves + With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall + Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, + Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded, + And forced to drink their vapour. + +IRAS The gods forbid! + +CLEOPATRA Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors + Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers + Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians + Extemporally will stage us, and present + Our Alexandrian revels; Antony + Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see + Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness + I' the posture of a whore. + +IRAS O the good gods! + +CLEOPATRA Nay, that's certain. + +IRAS I'll never see 't; for, I am sure, my nails + Are stronger than mine eyes. + +CLEOPATRA Why, that's the way + To fool their preparation, and to conquer + Their most absurd intents. + + [Re-enter CHARMIAN] + + Now, Charmian! + Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch + My best attires: I am again for Cydnus, + To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go. + Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed; + And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave + To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all. + Wherefore's this noise? + + [Exit IRAS. A noise within] + + [Enter a Guardsman] + +Guard Here is a rural fellow + That will not be denied your highness presence: + He brings you figs. + +CLEOPATRA Let him come in. + + [Exit Guardsman] + + What poor an instrument + May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. + My resolution's placed, and I have nothing + Of woman in me: now from head to foot + I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon + No planet is of mine. + + [Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown bringing in a basket] + +Guard This is the man. + +CLEOPATRA Avoid, and leave him. + + [Exit Guardsman] + + Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, + That kills and pains not? + +Clown Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party + that should desire you to touch him, for his biting + is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or + never recover. + +CLEOPATRA Rememberest thou any that have died on't? + +Clown Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of + them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, + but something given to lie; as a woman should not + do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the + biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes + a very good report o' the worm; but he that will + believe all that they say, shall never be saved by + half that they do: but this is most fallible, the + worm's an odd worm. + +CLEOPATRA Get thee hence; farewell. + +Clown I wish you all joy of the worm. + + [Setting down his basket] + +CLEOPATRA Farewell. + +Clown You must think this, look you, that the worm will + do his kind. + +CLEOPATRA Ay, ay; farewell. + +Clown Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the + keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no + goodness in worm. + + +CLEOPATRA Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. + +Clown Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is + not worth the feeding. + +CLEOPATRA Will it eat me? + +Clown You must not think I am so simple but I know the + devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a + woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her + not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the + gods great harm in their women; for in every ten + that they make, the devils mar five. + +CLEOPATRA Well, get thee gone; farewell. + +Clown Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy o' the worm. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter IRAS with a robe, crown, &c] + +CLEOPATRA Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have + Immortal longings in me: now no more + The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: + Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear + Antony call; I see him rouse himself + To praise my noble act; I hear him mock + The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men + To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: + Now to that name my courage prove my title! + I am fire and air; my other elements + I give to baser life. So; have you done? + Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. + Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. + + [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies] + + Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? + If thou and nature can so gently part, + The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, + Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? + If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world + It is not worth leave-taking. + +CHARMIAN Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say, + The gods themselves do weep! + +CLEOPATRA This proves me base: + If she first meet the curled Antony, + He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss + Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou + mortal wretch, + + [To an asp, which she applies to her breast] + + With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate + Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool + Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak, + That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass + Unpolicied! + +CHARMIAN O eastern star! + +CLEOPATRA Peace, peace! + Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, + That sucks the nurse asleep? + +CHARMIAN O, break! O, break! + +CLEOPATRA As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,-- + O Antony!--Nay, I will take thee too. + + [Applying another asp to her arm] + + What should I stay-- + + [Dies] + +CHARMIAN In this vile world? So, fare thee well. + Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies + A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close; + And golden Phoebus never be beheld + Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry; + I'll mend it, and then play. + + [Enter the Guard, rushing in] + +First Guard Where is the queen? + +CHARMIAN Speak softly, wake her not. + +First Guard Caesar hath sent-- + +CHARMIAN Too slow a messenger. + + [Applies an asp] + + O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee. + +First Guard Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguiled. + +Second Guard There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him. + +First Guard What work is here! Charmian, is this well done? + +CHARMIAN It is well done, and fitting for a princess + Descended of so many royal kings. + Ah, soldier! + + [Dies] + + [Re-enter DOLABELLA] + +DOLABELLA How goes it here? + +Second Guard All dead. + +DOLABELLA Caesar, thy thoughts + Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming + To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou + So sought'st to hinder. + + [Within 'A way there, a way for Caesar!'] + + [Re-enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR and all his train marching] + +DOLABELLA O sir, you are too sure an augurer; + That you did fear is done. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Bravest at the last, + She levell'd at our purposes, and, being royal, + Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? + I do not see them bleed. + +DOLABELLA Who was last with them? + +First Guard A simple countryman, that brought her figs: + This was his basket. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Poison'd, then. + +First Guard O Caesar, + This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake: + I found her trimming up the diadem + On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood + And on the sudden dropp'd. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR O noble weakness! + If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear + By external swelling: but she looks like sleep, + As she would catch another Antony + In her strong toil of grace. + +DOLABELLA Here, on her breast, + There is a vent of blood and something blown: + The like is on her arm. + +First Guard This is an aspic's trail: and these fig-leaves + Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves + Upon the caves of Nile. + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR Most probable + That so she died; for her physician tells me + She hath pursued conclusions infinite + Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed; + And bear her women from the monument: + She shall be buried by her Antony: + No grave upon the earth shall clip in it + A pair so famous. High events as these + Strike those that make them; and their story is + No less in pity than his glory which + Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall + In solemn show attend this funeral; + And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see + High order in this great solemnity. + + [Exeunt] + + CORIOLANUS + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +CAIUS MARCIUS (MARCUS:) Afterwards CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS. + (CORIOLANUS:) + + +TITUS LARTIUS (LARTIUS:) | + | generals against the Volscians. +COMINIUS | + + +MENENIUS AGRIPPA friend to Coriolanus. (MENENIUS:) + + +SICINIUS VELUTUS (SICINIUS:) | + | tribunes of the people. +JUNIUS BRUTUS (BRUTUS:) | + + +Young MARCUS son to Coriolanus. + + A Roman Herald. (Herald:) + +TULLUS AUFIDIUS general of the Volscians. (AUFIDIUS:) + + Lieutenant to Aufidius. (Lieutenant:) + + Conspirators with Aufidius. + (First Conspirator:) + (Second Conspirator:) + (Third Conspirator:) + + A Citizen of Antium. + + Two Volscian Guards. + +VOLUMNIA mother to Coriolanus. + +VIRGILIA wife to Coriolanus. + +VALERIA friend to Virgilia. + + Gentlewoman, attending on Virgilia. (Gentlewoman:) + + Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, + AEdiles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, + Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants. + (First Senator:) + (Second Senator:) + (A Patrician:) + (Second Patrician:) + (AEdile:) + (First Soldier:) + (Second Soldier:) + (First Citizen:) + (Second Citizen:) + (Third Citizen:) + (Fourth Citizen:) + (Fifth Citizen:) + (Sixth Citizen:) + (Seventh Citizen:) + (Messenger:) + (Second Messenger:) + (First Serviceman:) + (Second Serviceman:) + (Third Serviceman:) + (Officer:) + (First Officer:) + (Second Officer:) + (Roman:) + (First Roman:) + (Second Roman:) + (Third Roman:) + (Volsce:) + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (Third Lord:) + + +SCENE Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli + and the neighbourhood; Antium. + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Rome. A street. + + + [Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, + clubs, and other weapons] + +First Citizen Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. + +All Speak, speak. + +First Citizen You are all resolved rather to die than to famish? + +All Resolved. resolved. + +First Citizen First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. + +All We know't, we know't. + +First Citizen Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. + Is't a verdict? + +All No more talking on't; let it be done: away, away! + +Second Citizen One word, good citizens. + +First Citizen We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. + What authority surfeits on would relieve us: if they + would yield us but the superfluity, while it were + wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; + but they think we are too dear: the leanness that + afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an + inventory to particularise their abundance; our + sufferance is a gain to them Let us revenge this with + our pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know I + speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. + +Second Citizen Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? + +All Against him first: he's a very dog to the commonalty. + +Second Citizen Consider you what services he has done for his country? + +First Citizen Very well; and could be content to give him good + report fort, but that he pays himself with being proud. + +Second Citizen Nay, but speak not maliciously. + +First Citizen I say unto you, what he hath done famously, he did + it to that end: though soft-conscienced men can be + content to say it was for his country he did it to + please his mother and to be partly proud; which he + is, even till the altitude of his virtue. + +Second Citizen What he cannot help in his nature, you account a + vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. + +First Citizen If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; + he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. + + [Shouts within] + + What shouts are these? The other side o' the city + is risen: why stay we prating here? to the Capitol! + +All Come, come. + +First Citizen Soft! who comes here? + + [Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA] + +Second Citizen Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved + the people. + +First Citizen He's one honest enough: would all the rest were so! + +MENENIUS What work's, my countrymen, in hand? where go you + With bats and clubs? The matter? speak, I pray you. + +First Citizen Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have + had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, + which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor + suitors have strong breaths: they shall know we + have strong arms too. + +MENENIUS Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, + Will you undo yourselves? + +First Citizen We cannot, sir, we are undone already. + +MENENIUS I tell you, friends, most charitable care + Have the patricians of you. For your wants, + Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well + Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them + Against the Roman state, whose course will on + The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs + Of more strong link asunder than can ever + Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, + The gods, not the patricians, make it, and + Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, + You are transported by calamity + Thither where more attends you, and you slander + The helms o' the state, who care for you like fathers, + When you curse them as enemies. + +First Citizen Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us + yet: suffer us to famish, and their store-houses + crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to + support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act + established against the rich, and provide more + piercing statutes daily, to chain up and restrain + the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and + there's all the love they bear us. + +MENENIUS Either you must + Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, + Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you + A pretty tale: it may be you have heard it; + But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture + To stale 't a little more. + +First Citizen Well, I'll hear it, sir: yet you must not think to + fob off our disgrace with a tale: but, an 't please + you, deliver. + +MENENIUS There was a time when all the body's members + Rebell'd against the belly, thus accused it: + That only like a gulf it did remain + I' the midst o' the body, idle and unactive, + Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing + Like labour with the rest, where the other instruments + Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, + And, mutually participate, did minister + Unto the appetite and affection common + Of the whole body. The belly answer'd-- + +First Citizen Well, sir, what answer made the belly? + +MENENIUS Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, + Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus-- + For, look you, I may make the belly smile + As well as speak--it tauntingly replied + To the discontented members, the mutinous parts + That envied his receipt; even so most fitly + As you malign our senators for that + They are not such as you. + +First Citizen Your belly's answer? What! + The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye, + The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, + Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter. + With other muniments and petty helps + In this our fabric, if that they-- + +MENENIUS What then? + 'Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? what then? + +First Citizen Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, + Who is the sink o' the body,-- + +MENENIUS Well, what then? + +First Citizen The former agents, if they did complain, + What could the belly answer? + +MENENIUS I will tell you + If you'll bestow a small--of what you have little-- + Patience awhile, you'll hear the belly's answer. + +First Citizen Ye're long about it. + +MENENIUS Note me this, good friend; + Your most grave belly was deliberate, + Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd: + 'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he, + 'That I receive the general food at first, + Which you do live upon; and fit it is, + Because I am the store-house and the shop + Of the whole body: but, if you do remember, + I send it through the rivers of your blood, + Even to the court, the heart, to the seat o' the brain; + And, through the cranks and offices of man, + The strongest nerves and small inferior veins + From me receive that natural competency + Whereby they live: and though that all at once, + You, my good friends,'--this says the belly, mark me,-- + +First Citizen Ay, sir; well, well. + +MENENIUS 'Though all at once cannot + See what I do deliver out to each, + Yet I can make my audit up, that all + From me do back receive the flour of all, + And leave me but the bran.' What say you to't? + +First Citizen It was an answer: how apply you this? + +MENENIUS The senators of Rome are this good belly, + And you the mutinous members; for examine + Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly + Touching the weal o' the common, you shall find + No public benefit which you receive + But it proceeds or comes from them to you + And no way from yourselves. What do you think, + You, the great toe of this assembly? + +First Citizen I the great toe! why the great toe? + +MENENIUS For that, being one o' the lowest, basest, poorest, + Of this most wise rebellion, thou go'st foremost: + Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, + Lead'st first to win some vantage. + But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs: + Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; + The one side must have bale. + + [Enter CAIUS MARCIUS] + + Hail, noble Marcius! + +MARCIUS Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues, + That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, + Make yourselves scabs? + +First Citizen We have ever your good word. + +MARCIUS He that will give good words to thee will flatter + Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, + That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you, + The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, + Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; + Where foxes, geese: you are no surer, no, + Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, + Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is + To make him worthy whose offence subdues him + And curse that justice did it. + Who deserves greatness + Deserves your hate; and your affections are + A sick man's appetite, who desires most that + Which would increase his evil. He that depends + Upon your favours swims with fins of lead + And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust Ye? + With every minute you do change a mind, + And call him noble that was now your hate, + Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter, + That in these several places of the city + You cry against the noble senate, who, + Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else + Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? + +MENENIUS For corn at their own rates; whereof, they say, + The city is well stored. + +MARCIUS Hang 'em! They say! + They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know + What's done i' the Capitol; who's like to rise, + Who thrives and who declines; side factions + and give out + Conjectural marriages; making parties strong + And feebling such as stand not in their liking + Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's + grain enough! + Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, + And let me use my sword, I'll make a quarry + With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high + As I could pick my lance. + +MENENIUS Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; + For though abundantly they lack discretion, + Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, + What says the other troop? + +MARCIUS They are dissolved: hang 'em! + They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs, + That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, + That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not + Corn for the rich men only: with these shreds + They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, + And a petition granted them, a strange one-- + To break the heart of generosity, + And make bold power look pale--they threw their caps + As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, + Shouting their emulation. + +MENENIUS What is granted them? + +MARCIUS Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, + Of their own choice: one's Junius Brutus, + Sicinius Velutus, and I know not--'Sdeath! + The rabble should have first unroof'd the city, + Ere so prevail'd with me: it will in time + Win upon power and throw forth greater themes + For insurrection's arguing. + +MENENIUS This is strange. + +MARCIUS Go, get you home, you fragments! + + [Enter a Messenger, hastily] + +Messenger Where's Caius Marcius? + +MARCIUS Here: what's the matter? + +Messenger The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS I am glad on 't: then we shall ha' means to vent + Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. + + [Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators; + JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS] + +First Senator Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us; + The Volsces are in arms. + +MARCIUS They have a leader, + Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to 't. + I sin in envying his nobility, + And were I any thing but what I am, + I would wish me only he. + +COMINIUS You have fought together. + +MARCIUS Were half to half the world by the ears and he. + Upon my party, I'ld revolt to make + Only my wars with him: he is a lion + That I am proud to hunt. + +First Senator Then, worthy Marcius, + Attend upon Cominius to these wars. + +COMINIUS It is your former promise. + +MARCIUS Sir, it is; + And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou + Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. + What, art thou stiff? stand'st out? + +TITUS No, Caius Marcius; + I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other, + Ere stay behind this business. + +MENENIUS O, true-bred! + +First Senator Your company to the Capitol; where, I know, + Our greatest friends attend us. + +TITUS [To COMINIUS] Lead you on. + + [To MARCIUS] Follow Cominius; we must follow you; + Right worthy you priority. + +COMINIUS Noble Marcius! + +First Senator [To the Citizens] Hence to your homes; be gone! + +MARCIUS Nay, let them follow: + The Volsces have much corn; take these rats thither + To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutiners, + Your valour puts well forth: pray, follow. + + [Citizens steal away. Exeunt all but SICINIUS + and BRUTUS] + +SICINIUS Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? + +BRUTUS He has no equal. + +SICINIUS When we were chosen tribunes for the people,-- + +BRUTUS Mark'd you his lip and eyes? + +SICINIUS Nay. but his taunts. + +BRUTUS Being moved, he will not spare to gird the gods. + +SICINIUS Be-mock the modest moon. + +BRUTUS The present wars devour him: he is grown + Too proud to be so valiant. + +SICINIUS Such a nature, + Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow + Which he treads on at noon: but I do wonder + His insolence can brook to be commanded + Under Cominius. + +BRUTUS Fame, at the which he aims, + In whom already he's well graced, can not + Better be held nor more attain'd than by + A place below the first: for what miscarries + Shall be the general's fault, though he perform + To the utmost of a man, and giddy censure + Will then cry out of Marcius 'O if he + Had borne the business!' + +SICINIUS Besides, if things go well, + Opinion that so sticks on Marcius shall + Of his demerits rob Cominius. + +BRUTUS Come: + Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius. + Though Marcius earned them not, and all his faults + To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed + In aught he merit not. + +SICINIUS Let's hence, and hear + How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, + More than his singularity, he goes + Upon this present action. + +BRUTUS Lets along. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Corioli. The Senate-house. + + + [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS and certain Senators] + +First Senator So, your opinion is, Aufidius, + That they of Rome are entered in our counsels + And know how we proceed. + +AUFIDIUS Is it not yours? + What ever have been thought on in this state, + That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome + Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone + Since I heard thence; these are the words: I think + I have the letter here; yes, here it is. + + [Reads] + + 'They have press'd a power, but it is not known + Whether for east or west: the dearth is great; + The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, + Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, + Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, + And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, + These three lead on this preparation + Whither 'tis bent: most likely 'tis for you: + Consider of it.' + +First Senator Our army's in the field + We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready + To answer us. + +AUFIDIUS Nor did you think it folly + To keep your great pretences veil'd till when + They needs must show themselves; which + in the hatching, + It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery. + We shall be shorten'd in our aim, which was + To take in many towns ere almost Rome + Should know we were afoot. + +Second Senator Noble Aufidius, + Take your commission; hie you to your bands: + Let us alone to guard Corioli: + If they set down before 's, for the remove + Bring your army; but, I think, you'll find + They've not prepared for us. + +AUFIDIUS O, doubt not that; + I speak from certainties. Nay, more, + Some parcels of their power are forth already, + And only hitherward. I leave your honours. + If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, + 'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike + Till one can do no more. + +All The gods assist you! + +AUFIDIUS And keep your honours safe! + +First Senator Farewell. + +Second Senator Farewell. + +All Farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III Rome. A room in Marcius' house. + + + [Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA they set them down + on two low stools, and sew] + +VOLUMNIA I pray you, daughter, sing; or express yourself in a + more comfortable sort: if my son were my husband, I + should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he + won honour than in the embracements of his bed where + he would show most love. When yet he was but + tender-bodied and the only son of my womb, when + youth with comeliness plucked all gaze his way, when + for a day of kings' entreaties a mother should not + sell him an hour from her beholding, I, considering + how honour would become such a person. that it was + no better than picture-like to hang by the wall, if + renown made it not stir, was pleased to let him seek + danger where he was like to find fame. To a cruel + war I sent him; from whence he returned, his brows + bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not + more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child + than now in first seeing he had proved himself a + man. + +VIRGILIA But had he died in the business, madam; how then? + +VOLUMNIA Then his good report should have been my son; I + therein would have found issue. Hear me profess + sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love + alike and none less dear than thine and my good + Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their + country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. + + [Enter a Gentlewoman] + +Gentlewoman Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. + +VIRGILIA Beseech you, give me leave to retire myself. + +VOLUMNIA Indeed, you shall not. + Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum, + See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair, + As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him: + Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: + 'Come on, you cowards! you were got in fear, + Though you were born in Rome:' his bloody brow + With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, + Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow + Or all or lose his hire. + +VIRGILIA His bloody brow! O Jupiter, no blood! + +VOLUMNIA Away, you fool! it more becomes a man + Than gilt his trophy: the breasts of Hecuba, + When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier + Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood + At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria, + We are fit to bid her welcome. + + [Exit Gentlewoman] + +VIRGILIA Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! + +VOLUMNIA He'll beat Aufidius 'head below his knee + And tread upon his neck. + + [Enter VALERIA, with an Usher and Gentlewoman] + +VALERIA My ladies both, good day to you. + +VOLUMNIA Sweet madam. + +VIRGILIA I am glad to see your ladyship. + +VALERIA How do you both? you are manifest house-keepers. + What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good + faith. How does your little son? + +VIRGILIA I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. + +VOLUMNIA He had rather see the swords, and hear a drum, than + look upon his school-master. + +VALERIA O' my word, the father's son: I'll swear,'tis a + very pretty boy. O' my troth, I looked upon him o' + Wednesday half an hour together: has such a + confirmed countenance. I saw him run after a gilded + butterfly: and when he caught it, he let it go + again; and after it again; and over and over he + comes, and again; catched it again; or whether his + fall enraged him, or how 'twas, he did so set his + teeth and tear it; O, I warrant it, how he mammocked + it! + +VOLUMNIA One on 's father's moods. + +VALERIA Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. + +VIRGILIA A crack, madam. + +VALERIA Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play + the idle husewife with me this afternoon. + +VIRGILIA No, good madam; I will not out of doors. + +VALERIA Not out of doors! + +VOLUMNIA She shall, she shall. + +VIRGILIA Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the + threshold till my lord return from the wars. + +VALERIA Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably: come, + you must go visit the good lady that lies in. + +VIRGILIA I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with + my prayers; but I cannot go thither. + +VOLUMNIA Why, I pray you? + +VIRGILIA 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. + +VALERIA You would be another Penelope: yet, they say, all + the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill + Ithaca full of moths. Come; I would your cambric + were sensible as your finger, that you might leave + pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. + +VIRGILIA No, good madam, pardon me; indeed, I will not forth. + +VALERIA In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you + excellent news of your husband. + +VIRGILIA O, good madam, there can be none yet. + +VALERIA Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from + him last night. + +VIRGILIA Indeed, madam? + +VALERIA In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. + Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against + whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of + our Roman power: your lord and Titus Lartius are set + down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt + prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, + on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. + +VIRGILIA Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in every + thing hereafter. + +VOLUMNIA Let her alone, lady: as she is now, she will but + disease our better mirth. + +VALERIA In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. + Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy + solemness out o' door. and go along with us. + +VIRGILIA No, at a word, madam; indeed, I must not. I wish + you much mirth. + +VALERIA Well, then, farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Before Corioli. + + + [Enter, with drum and colours, MARCIUS, TITUS + LARTIUS, Captains and Soldiers. To them a + Messenger] + +MARCIUS Yonder comes news. A wager they have met. + +LARTIUS My horse to yours, no. + +MARCIUS 'Tis done. + +LARTIUS Agreed. + +MARCIUS Say, has our general met the enemy? + +Messenger They lie in view; but have not spoke as yet. + +LARTIUS So, the good horse is mine. + +MARCIUS I'll buy him of you. + +LARTIUS No, I'll nor sell nor give him: lend you him I will + For half a hundred years. Summon the town. + +MARCIUS How far off lie these armies? + +Messenger Within this mile and half. + +MARCIUS Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. + Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, + That we with smoking swords may march from hence, + To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. + + [They sound a parley. Enter two Senators with others + on the walls] + + Tutus Aufidius, is he within your walls? + +First Senator No, nor a man that fears you less than he, + That's lesser than a little. + + [Drums afar off] + + Hark! our drums + Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls, + Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates, + Which yet seem shut, we, have but pinn'd with rushes; + They'll open of themselves. + + [Alarum afar off] + + Hark you. far off! + There is Aufidius; list, what work he makes + Amongst your cloven army. + +MARCIUS O, they are at it! + +LARTIUS Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho! + + [Enter the army of the Volsces] + +MARCIUS They fear us not, but issue forth their city. + Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight + With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, + brave Titus: + They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, + Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows: + He that retires I'll take him for a Volsce, + And he shall feel mine edge. + + [Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their + trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS cursing] + +MARCIUS All the contagion of the south light on you, + You shames of Rome! you herd of--Boils and plagues + Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd + Further than seen and one infect another + Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, + That bear the shapes of men, how have you run + From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! + All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale + With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, + Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe + And make my wars on you: look to't: come on; + If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, + As they us to our trenches followed. + + [Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS + follows them to the gates] + + So, now the gates are ope: now prove good seconds: + 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, + Not for the fliers: mark me, and do the like. + + [Enters the gates] + +First Soldier Fool-hardiness; not I. + +Second Soldier Nor I. + + [MARCIUS is shut in] + +First Soldier See, they have shut him in. + +All To the pot, I warrant him. + + [Alarum continues] + + [Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS] + +LARTIUS What is become of Marcius? + +All Slain, sir, doubtless. + +First Soldier Following the fliers at the very heels, + With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, + Clapp'd to their gates: he is himself alone, + To answer all the city. + +LARTIUS O noble fellow! + Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, + And, when it bows, stands up. Thou art left, Marcius: + A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, + Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier + Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible + Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks and + The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds, + Thou madst thine enemies shake, as if the world + Were feverous and did tremble. + + [Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy] + +First Soldier Look, sir. + +LARTIUS O,'tis Marcius! + Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. + + [They fight, and all enter the city] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Corioli. A street. + + + [Enter certain Romans, with spoils] + +First Roman This will I carry to Rome. + +Second Roman And I this. + +Third Roman A murrain on't! I took this for silver. + + [Alarum continues still afar off] + + [Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS with a trumpet] + +MARCIUS See here these movers that do prize their hours + At a crack'd drachm! Cushions, leaden spoons, + Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would + Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, + Ere yet the fight be done, pack up: down with them! + And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! + There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, + Piercing our Romans: then, valiant Titus, take + Convenient numbers to make good the city; + Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste + To help Cominius. + +LARTIUS Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; + Thy exercise hath been too violent for + A second course of fight. + +MARCIUS Sir, praise me not; + My work hath yet not warm'd me: fare you well: + The blood I drop is rather physical + Than dangerous to me: to Aufidius thus + I will appear, and fight. + +LARTIUS Now the fair goddess, Fortune, + Fall deep in love with thee; and her great charms + Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, + Prosperity be thy page! + +MARCIUS Thy friend no less + Than those she placeth highest! So, farewell. + +LARTIUS Thou worthiest Marcius! + + [Exit MARCIUS] + + Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place; + Call thither all the officers o' the town, + Where they shall know our mind: away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VI Near the camp of Cominius. + + + [Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, + with soldiers] + +COMINIUS Breathe you, my friends: well fought; + we are come off + Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, + Nor cowardly in retire: believe me, sirs, + We shall be charged again. Whiles we have struck, + By interims and conveying gusts we have heard + The charges of our friends. Ye Roman gods! + Lead their successes as we wish our own, + That both our powers, with smiling + fronts encountering, + May give you thankful sacrifice. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + Thy news? + +Messenger The citizens of Corioli have issued, + And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle: + I saw our party to their trenches driven, + And then I came away. + +COMINIUS Though thou speak'st truth, + Methinks thou speak'st not well. + How long is't since? + +Messenger Above an hour, my lord. + +COMINIUS 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums: + How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, + And bring thy news so late? + +Messenger Spies of the Volsces + Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel + Three or four miles about, else had I, sir, + Half an hour since brought my report. + +COMINIUS Who's yonder, + That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods + He has the stamp of Marcius; and I have + Before-time seen him thus. + +MARCIUS [Within] Come I too late? + +COMINIUS The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabour + More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue + From every meaner man. + + [Enter MARCIUS] + +MARCIUS Come I too late? + +COMINIUS Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, + But mantled in your own. + +MARCIUS O, let me clip ye + In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart + As merry as when our nuptial day was done, + And tapers burn'd to bedward! + +COMINIUS Flower of warriors, + How is it with Titus Lartius? + +MARCIUS As with a man busied about decrees: + Condemning some to death, and some to exile; + Ransoming him, or pitying, threatening the other; + Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, + Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, + To let him slip at will. + +COMINIUS Where is that slave + Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? + Where is he? call him hither. + +MARCIUS Let him alone; + He did inform the truth: but for our gentlemen, + The common file--a plague! tribunes for them!-- + The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge + From rascals worse than they. + +COMINIUS But how prevail'd you? + +MARCIUS Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. + Where is the enemy? are you lords o' the field? + If not, why cease you till you are so? + +COMINIUS Marcius, + We have at disadvantage fought and did + Retire to win our purpose. + +MARCIUS How lies their battle? know you on which side + They have placed their men of trust? + +COMINIUS As I guess, Marcius, + Their bands i' the vaward are the Antiates, + Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, + Their very heart of hope. + +MARCIUS I do beseech you, + By all the battles wherein we have fought, + By the blood we have shed together, by the vows + We have made to endure friends, that you directly + Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; + And that you not delay the present, but, + Filling the air with swords advanced and darts, + We prove this very hour. + +COMINIUS Though I could wish + You were conducted to a gentle bath + And balms applied to, you, yet dare I never + Deny your asking: take your choice of those + That best can aid your action. + +MARCIUS Those are they + That most are willing. If any such be here-- + As it were sin to doubt--that love this painting + Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear + Lesser his person than an ill report; + If any think brave death outweighs bad life + And that his country's dearer than himself; + Let him alone, or so many so minded, + Wave thus, to express his disposition, + And follow Marcius. + + [They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in + their arms, and cast up their caps] + + O, me alone! make you a sword of me? + If these shows be not outward, which of you + But is four Volsces? none of you but is + Able to bear against the great Aufidius + A shield as hard as his. A certain number, + Though thanks to all, must I select + from all: the rest + Shall bear the business in some other fight, + As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; + And four shall quickly draw out my command, + Which men are best inclined. + +COMINIUS March on, my fellows: + Make good this ostentation, and you shall + Divide in all with us. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VII The gates of Corioli. + + + [TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon + Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward + COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with + Lieutenant, other Soldiers, and a Scout] + +LARTIUS So, let the ports be guarded: keep your duties, + As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch + Those centuries to our aid: the rest will serve + For a short holding: if we lose the field, + We cannot keep the town. + +Lieutenant Fear not our care, sir. + +LARTIUS Hence, and shut your gates upon's. + Our guider, come; to the Roman camp conduct us. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VIII A field of battle. + + + [Alarum as in battle. Enter, from opposite sides, + MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS] + +MARCIUS I'll fight with none but thee; for I do hate thee + Worse than a promise-breaker. + +AUFIDIUS We hate alike: + Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor + More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. + +MARCIUS Let the first budger die the other's slave, + And the gods doom him after! + +AUFIDIUS If I fly, Marcius, + Holloa me like a hare. + +MARCIUS Within these three hours, Tullus, + Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, + And made what work I pleased: 'tis not my blood + Wherein thou seest me mask'd; for thy revenge + Wrench up thy power to the highest. + +AUFIDIUS Wert thou the Hector + That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, + Thou shouldst not scape me here. + + [They fight, and certain Volsces come to the aid of + AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in + breathless] + + Officious, and not valiant, you have shamed me + In your condemned seconds. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IX The Roman camp. + + + [Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Flourish. + Enter, from one side, COMINIUS with the Romans; from + the other side, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf] + +COMINIUS If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, + Thou'ldst not believe thy deeds: but I'll report it + Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles, + Where great patricians shall attend and shrug, + I' the end admire, where ladies shall be frighted, + And, gladly quaked, hear more; where the + dull tribunes, + That, with the fusty plebeians, hate thine honours, + Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods + Our Rome hath such a soldier.' + Yet camest thou to a morsel of this feast, + Having fully dined before. + + [Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, + from the pursuit] + +LARTIUS O general, + Here is the steed, we the caparison: + Hadst thou beheld-- + +MARCIUS Pray now, no more: my mother, + Who has a charter to extol her blood, + When she does praise me grieves me. I have done + As you have done; that's what I can; induced + As you have been; that's for my country: + He that has but effected his good will + Hath overta'en mine act. + +COMINIUS You shall not be + The grave of your deserving; Rome must know + The value of her own: 'twere a concealment + Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, + To hide your doings; and to silence that, + Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, + Would seem but modest: therefore, I beseech you + In sign of what you are, not to reward + What you have done--before our army hear me. + +MARCIUS I have some wounds upon me, and they smart + To hear themselves remember'd. + +COMINIUS Should they not, + Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude, + And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses, + Whereof we have ta'en good and good store, of all + The treasure in this field achieved and city, + We render you the tenth, to be ta'en forth, + Before the common distribution, at + Your only choice. + +MARCIUS I thank you, general; + But cannot make my heart consent to take + A bribe to pay my sword: I do refuse it; + And stand upon my common part with those + That have beheld the doing. + + [A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius! Marcius!' + cast up their caps and lances: COMINIUS and LARTIUS + stand bare] + +MARCIUS May these same instruments, which you profane, + Never sound more! when drums and trumpets shall + I' the field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be + Made all of false-faced soothing! + When steel grows soft as the parasite's silk, + Let him be made a coverture for the wars! + No more, I say! For that I have not wash'd + My nose that bled, or foil'd some debile wretch.-- + Which, without note, here's many else have done,-- + You shout me forth + In acclamations hyperbolical; + As if I loved my little should be dieted + In praises sauced with lies. + +COMINIUS Too modest are you; + More cruel to your good report than grateful + To us that give you truly: by your patience, + If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll put you, + Like one that means his proper harm, in manacles, + Then reason safely with you. Therefore, be it known, + As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius + Wears this war's garland: in token of the which, + My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, + With all his trim belonging; and from this time, + For what he did before Corioli, call him, + With all the applause and clamour of the host, + CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS! Bear + The addition nobly ever! + + [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums] + +All Caius Marcius Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS I will go wash; + And when my face is fair, you shall perceive + Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thank you. + I mean to stride your steed, and at all times + To undercrest your good addition + To the fairness of my power. + +COMINIUS So, to our tent; + Where, ere we do repose us, we will write + To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, + Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome + The best, with whom we may articulate, + For their own good and ours. + +LARTIUS I shall, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS The gods begin to mock me. I, that now + Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg + Of my lord general. + +COMINIUS Take't; 'tis yours. What is't? + +CORIOLANUS I sometime lay here in Corioli + At a poor man's house; he used me kindly: + He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; + But then Aufidius was within my view, + And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity: I request you + To give my poor host freedom. + +COMINIUS O, well begg'd! + Were he the butcher of my son, he should + Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. + +LARTIUS Marcius, his name? + +CORIOLANUS By Jupiter! forgot. + I am weary; yea, my memory is tired. + Have we no wine here? + +COMINIUS Go we to our tent: + The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time + It should be look'd to: come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE X The camp of the Volsces. + + + [A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, + bloody, with two or three Soldiers] + +AUFIDIUS The town is ta'en! + +First Soldier 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. + +AUFIDIUS Condition! + I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, + Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition! + What good condition can a treaty find + I' the part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, + I have fought with thee: so often hast thou beat me, + And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter + As often as we eat. By the elements, + If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, + He's mine, or I am his: mine emulation + Hath not that honour in't it had; for where + I thought to crush him in an equal force, + True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way + Or wrath or craft may get him. + +First Soldier He's the devil. + +AUFIDIUS Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd + With only suffering stain by him; for him + Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep nor sanctuary, + Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, + The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, + Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up + Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst + My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it + At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, + Against the hospitable canon, would I + Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to the city; + Learn how 'tis held; and what they are that must + Be hostages for Rome. + +First Soldier Will not you go? + +AUFIDIUS I am attended at the cypress grove: I pray you-- + 'Tis south the city mills--bring me word thither + How the world goes, that to the pace of it + I may spur on my journey. + +First Soldier I shall, sir. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Rome. A public place. + + + [Enter MENENIUS with the two Tribunes of the people, + SICINIUS and BRUTUS. + +MENENIUS The augurer tells me we shall have news to-night. + +BRUTUS Good or bad? + +MENENIUS Not according to the prayer of the people, for they + love not Marcius. + +SICINIUS Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. + +MENENIUS Pray you, who does the wolf love? + +SICINIUS The lamb. + +MENENIUS Ay, to devour him; as the hungry plebeians would the + noble Marcius. + +BRUTUS He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. + +MENENIUS He's a bear indeed, that lives like a lamb. You two + are old men: tell me one thing that I shall ask you. + +Both Well, sir. + +MENENIUS In what enormity is Marcius poor in, that you two + have not in abundance? + +BRUTUS He's poor in no one fault, but stored with all. + +SICINIUS Especially in pride. + +BRUTUS And topping all others in boasting. + +MENENIUS This is strange now: do you two know how you are + censured here in the city, I mean of us o' the + right-hand file? do you? + +Both Why, how are we censured? + +MENENIUS Because you talk of pride now,--will you not be angry? + +Both Well, well, sir, well. + +MENENIUS Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of + occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience: + give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at + your pleasures; at the least if you take it as a + pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for + being proud? + +BRUTUS We do it not alone, sir. + +MENENIUS I know you can do very little alone; for your helps + are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous + single: your abilities are too infant-like for + doing much alone. You talk of pride: O that you + could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, + and make but an interior survey of your good selves! + O that you could! + +BRUTUS What then, sir? + +MENENIUS Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, + proud, violent, testy magistrates, alias fools, as + any in Rome. + +SICINIUS Menenius, you are known well enough too. + +MENENIUS I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that + loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying + Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in + favouring the first complaint; hasty and tinder-like + upon too trivial motion; one that converses more + with the buttock of the night than with the forehead + of the morning: what I think I utter, and spend my + malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as + you are--I cannot call you Lycurguses--if the drink + you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a + crooked face at it. I can't say your worships have + delivered the matter well, when I find the ass in + compound with the major part of your syllables: and + though I must be content to bear with those that say + you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that + tell you you have good faces. If you see this in + the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known + well enough too? what barm can your bisson + conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be + known well enough too? + +BRUTUS Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. + +MENENIUS You know neither me, yourselves nor any thing. You + are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs: you + wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a + cause between an orange wife and a fosset-seller; + and then rejourn the controversy of three pence to a + second day of audience. When you are hearing a + matter between party and party, if you chance to be + pinched with the colic, you make faces like + mummers; set up the bloody flag against all + patience; and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, + dismiss the controversy bleeding the more entangled + by your hearing: all the peace you make in their + cause is, calling both the parties knaves. You are + a pair of strange ones. + +BRUTUS Come, come, you are well understood to be a + perfecter giber for the table than a necessary + bencher in the Capitol. + +MENENIUS Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall + encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When + you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the + wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not + so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's + cushion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack- + saddle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is proud; + who in a cheap estimation, is worth predecessors + since Deucalion, though peradventure some of the + best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to + your worships: more of your conversation would + infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly + plebeians: I will be bold to take my leave of you. + + [BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside] + + [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA] + + How now, my as fair as noble ladies,--and the moon, + were she earthly, no nobler,--whither do you follow + your eyes so fast? + +VOLUMNIA Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for + the love of Juno, let's go. + +MENENIUS Ha! Marcius coming home! + +VOLUMNIA Ay, worthy Menenius; and with most prosperous + approbation. + +MENENIUS Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! + Marcius coming home! + + +VOLUMNIA | + | Nay,'tis true. +VIRGILIA | + + +VOLUMNIA Look, here's a letter from him: the state hath + another, his wife another; and, I think, there's one + at home for you. + +MENENIUS I will make my very house reel tonight: a letter for + me! + +VIRGILIA Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. + +MENENIUS A letter for me! it gives me an estate of seven + years' health; in which time I will make a lip at + the physician: the most sovereign prescription in + Galen is but empiricutic, and, to this preservative, + of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he + not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded. + +VIRGILIA O, no, no, no. + +VOLUMNIA O, he is wounded; I thank the gods for't. + +MENENIUS So do I too, if it be not too much: brings a' + victory in his pocket? the wounds become him. + +VOLUMNIA On's brows: Menenius, he comes the third time home + with the oaken garland. + +MENENIUS Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly? + +VOLUMNIA Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but + Aufidius got off. + +MENENIUS And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that: + an he had stayed by him, I would not have been so + fidiused for all the chests in Corioli, and the gold + that's in them. Is the senate possessed of this? + +VOLUMNIA Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes; the senate + has letters from the general, wherein he gives my + son the whole name of the war: he hath in this + action outdone his former deeds doubly + +VALERIA In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. + +MENENIUS Wondrous! ay, I warrant you, and not without his + true purchasing. + +VIRGILIA The gods grant them true! + +VOLUMNIA True! pow, wow. + +MENENIUS True! I'll be sworn they are true. + Where is he wounded? + + [To the Tribunes] + + God save your good worships! Marcius is coming + home: he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? + +VOLUMNIA I' the shoulder and i' the left arm there will be + large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall + stand for his place. He received in the repulse of + Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. + +MENENIUS One i' the neck, and two i' the thigh,--there's + nine that I know. + +VOLUMNIA He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five + wounds upon him. + +MENENIUS Now it's twenty-seven: every gash was an enemy's grave. + + [A shout and flourish] + + Hark! the trumpets. + +VOLUMNIA These are the ushers of Marcius: before him he + carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears: + Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie; + Which, being advanced, declines, and then men die. + + [A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the + general, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, + crowned with an oaken garland; with Captains and + Soldiers, and a Herald] + +Herald Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight + Within Corioli gates: where he hath won, + With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these + In honour follows Coriolanus. + Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + + [Flourish] + +All Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! + +CORIOLANUS No more of this; it does offend my heart: + Pray now, no more. + +COMINIUS Look, sir, your mother! + +CORIOLANUS O, + You have, I know, petition'd all the gods + For my prosperity! + + [Kneels] + +VOLUMNIA Nay, my good soldier, up; + My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and + By deed-achieving honour newly named,-- + What is it?--Coriolanus must I call thee?-- + But O, thy wife! + +CORIOLANUS My gracious silence, hail! + Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, + That weep'st to see me triumph? Ay, my dear, + Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, + And mothers that lack sons. + +MENENIUS Now, the gods crown thee! + +CORIOLANUS And live you yet? + + [To VALERIA] + O my sweet lady, pardon. + +VOLUMNIA I know not where to turn: O, welcome home: + And welcome, general: and ye're welcome all. + +MENENIUS A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep + And I could laugh, I am light and heavy. Welcome. + A curse begin at very root on's heart, + That is not glad to see thee! You are three + That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith of men, + We have some old crab-trees here + at home that will not + Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors: + We call a nettle but a nettle and + The faults of fools but folly. + +COMINIUS Ever right. + +CORIOLANUS Menenius ever, ever. + +Herald Give way there, and go on! + +CORIOLANUS [To VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA] Your hand, and yours: + Ere in our own house I do shade my head, + The good patricians must be visited; + From whom I have received not only greetings, + But with them change of honours. + +VOLUMNIA I have lived + To see inherited my very wishes + And the buildings of my fancy: only + There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but + Our Rome will cast upon thee. + +CORIOLANUS Know, good mother, + I had rather be their servant in my way, + Than sway with them in theirs. + +COMINIUS On, to the Capitol! + + [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before. + BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward] + +BRUTUS All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights + Are spectacled to see him: your prattling nurse + Into a rapture lets her baby cry + While she chats him: the kitchen malkin pins + Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, + Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, windows, + Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed + With variable complexions, all agreeing + In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens + Do press among the popular throngs and puff + To win a vulgar station: or veil'd dames + Commit the war of white and damask in + Their nicely-gawded cheeks to the wanton spoil + Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother + As if that whatsoever god who leads him + Were slily crept into his human powers + And gave him graceful posture. + +SICINIUS On the sudden, + I warrant him consul. + +BRUTUS Then our office may, + During his power, go sleep. + +SICINIUS He cannot temperately transport his honours + From where he should begin and end, but will + Lose those he hath won. + +BRUTUS In that there's comfort. + +SICINIUS Doubt not + The commoners, for whom we stand, but they + Upon their ancient malice will forget + With the least cause these his new honours, which + That he will give them make I as little question + As he is proud to do't. + +BRUTUS I heard him swear, + Were he to stand for consul, never would he + Appear i' the market-place nor on him put + The napless vesture of humility; + Nor showing, as the manner is, his wounds + To the people, beg their stinking breaths. + +SICINIUS 'Tis right. + +BRUTUS It was his word: O, he would miss it rather + Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him, + And the desire of the nobles. + +SICINIUS I wish no better + Than have him hold that purpose and to put it + In execution. + +BRUTUS 'Tis most like he will. + +SICINIUS It shall be to him then as our good wills, + A sure destruction. + +BRUTUS So it must fall out + To him or our authorities. For an end, + We must suggest the people in what hatred + He still hath held them; that to's power he would + Have made them mules, silenced their pleaders and + Dispropertied their freedoms, holding them, + In human action and capacity, + Of no more soul nor fitness for the world + Than camels in the war, who have their provand + Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows + For sinking under them. + +SICINIUS This, as you say, suggested + At some time when his soaring insolence + Shall touch the people--which time shall not want, + If he be put upon 't; and that's as easy + As to set dogs on sheep--will be his fire + To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze + Shall darken him for ever. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +BRUTUS What's the matter? + +Messenger You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought + That Marcius shall be consul: + I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and + The blind to bear him speak: matrons flung gloves, + Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, + Upon him as he pass'd: the nobles bended, + As to Jove's statue, and the commons made + A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts: + I never saw the like. + +BRUTUS Let's to the Capitol; + And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, + But hearts for the event. + +SICINIUS Have with you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The same. The Capitol. + + + [Enter two Officers, to lay cushions] + +First Officer Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand + for consulships? + +Second Officer Three, they say: but 'tis thought of every one + Coriolanus will carry it. + +First Officer That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud, and + loves not the common people. + +Second Officer Faith, there had been many great men that have + flattered the people, who ne'er loved them; and there + be many that they have loved, they know not + wherefore: so that, if they love they know not why, + they hate upon no better a ground: therefore, for + Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate + him manifests the true knowledge he has in their + disposition; and out of his noble carelessness lets + them plainly see't. + +First Officer If he did not care whether he had their love or no, + he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither + good nor harm: but he seeks their hate with greater + devotion than can render it him; and leaves + nothing undone that may fully discover him their + opposite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and + displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he + dislikes, to flatter them for their love. + +Second Officer He hath deserved worthily of his country: and his + ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, + having been supple and courteous to the people, + bonneted, without any further deed to have them at + an into their estimation and report: but he hath so + planted his honours in their eyes, and his actions + in their hearts, that for their tongues to be + silent, and not confess so much, were a kind of + ingrateful injury; to report otherwise, were a + malice, that, giving itself the lie, would pluck + reproof and rebuke from every ear that heard it. + +First Officer No more of him; he is a worthy man: make way, they + are coming. + + [A sennet. Enter, with actors before them, COMINIUS + the consul, MENENIUS, CORIOLANUS, Senators, + SICINIUS and BRUTUS. The Senators take their + places; the Tribunes take their Places by + themselves. CORIOLANUS stands] + +MENENIUS Having determined of the Volsces and + To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, + As the main point of this our after-meeting, + To gratify his noble service that + Hath thus stood for his country: therefore, + please you, + Most reverend and grave elders, to desire + The present consul, and last general + In our well-found successes, to report + A little of that worthy work perform'd + By Caius Marcius Coriolanus, whom + We met here both to thank and to remember + With honours like himself. + +First Senator Speak, good Cominius: + Leave nothing out for length, and make us think + Rather our state's defective for requital + Than we to stretch it out. + + [To the Tribunes] + + Masters o' the people, + We do request your kindest ears, and after, + Your loving motion toward the common body, + To yield what passes here. + +SICINIUS We are convented + Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts + Inclinable to honour and advance + The theme of our assembly. + +BRUTUS Which the rather + We shall be blest to do, if he remember + A kinder value of the people than + He hath hereto prized them at. + +MENENIUS That's off, that's off; + I would you rather had been silent. Please you + To hear Cominius speak? + +BRUTUS Most willingly; + But yet my caution was more pertinent + Than the rebuke you give it. + +MENENIUS He loves your people + But tie him not to be their bedfellow. + Worthy Cominius, speak. + + [CORIOLANUS offers to go away] + + Nay, keep your place. + +First Senator Sit, Coriolanus; never shame to hear + What you have nobly done. + +CORIOLANUS Your horror's pardon: + I had rather have my wounds to heal again + Than hear say how I got them. + +BRUTUS Sir, I hope + My words disbench'd you not. + +CORIOLANUS No, sir: yet oft, + When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. + You soothed not, therefore hurt not: but + your people, + I love them as they weigh. + +MENENIUS Pray now, sit down. + +CORIOLANUS I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun + When the alarum were struck than idly sit + To hear my nothings monster'd. + + [Exit] + +MENENIUS Masters of the people, + Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter-- + That's thousand to one good one--when you now see + He had rather venture all his limbs for honour + Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius. + +COMINIUS I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus + Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held + That valour is the chiefest virtue, and + Most dignifies the haver: if it be, + The man I speak of cannot in the world + Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen years, + When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought + Beyond the mark of others: our then dictator, + Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight, + When with his Amazonian chin he drove + The bristled lips before him: be bestrid + An o'er-press'd Roman and i' the consul's view + Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, + And struck him on his knee: in that day's feats, + When he might act the woman in the scene, + He proved best man i' the field, and for his meed + Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age + Man-enter'd thus, he waxed like a sea, + And in the brunt of seventeen battles since + He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, + Before and in Corioli, let me say, + I cannot speak him home: he stopp'd the fliers; + And by his rare example made the coward + Turn terror into sport: as weeds before + A vessel under sail, so men obey'd + And fell below his stem: his sword, death's stamp, + Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot + He was a thing of blood, whose every motion + Was timed with dying cries: alone he enter'd + The mortal gate of the city, which he painted + With shunless destiny; aidless came off, + And with a sudden reinforcement struck + Corioli like a planet: now all's his: + When, by and by, the din of war gan pierce + His ready sense; then straight his doubled spirit + Re-quicken'd what in flesh was fatigate, + And to the battle came he; where he did + Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if + 'Twere a perpetual spoil: and till we call'd + Both field and city ours, he never stood + To ease his breast with panting. + +MENENIUS Worthy man! + +First Senator He cannot but with measure fit the honours + Which we devise him. + +COMINIUS Our spoils he kick'd at, + And look'd upon things precious as they were + The common muck of the world: he covets less + Than misery itself would give; rewards + His deeds with doing them, and is content + To spend the time to end it. + +MENENIUS He's right noble: + Let him be call'd for. + +First Senator Call Coriolanus. + +Officer He doth appear. + + [Re-enter CORIOLANUS] + +MENENIUS The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased + To make thee consul. + +CORIOLANUS I do owe them still + My life and services. + +MENENIUS It then remains + That you do speak to the people. + +CORIOLANUS I do beseech you, + Let me o'erleap that custom, for I cannot + Put on the gown, stand naked and entreat them, + For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage: please you + That I may pass this doing. + +SICINIUS Sir, the people + Must have their voices; neither will they bate + One jot of ceremony. + +MENENIUS Put them not to't: + Pray you, go fit you to the custom and + Take to you, as your predecessors have, + Your honour with your form. + +CORIOLANUS It is apart + That I shall blush in acting, and might well + Be taken from the people. + +BRUTUS Mark you that? + +CORIOLANUS To brag unto them, thus I did, and thus; + Show them the unaching scars which I should hide, + As if I had received them for the hire + Of their breath only! + +MENENIUS Do not stand upon't. + We recommend to you, tribunes of the people, + Our purpose to them: and to our noble consul + Wish we all joy and honour. + +Senators To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! + + [Flourish of cornets. Exeunt all but SICINIUS + and BRUTUS] + +BRUTUS You see how he intends to use the people. + +SICINIUS May they perceive's intent! He will require them, + As if he did contemn what he requested + Should be in them to give. + +BRUTUS Come, we'll inform them + Of our proceedings here: on the marketplace, + I know, they do attend us. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. The Forum. + + + [Enter seven or eight Citizens] + +First Citizen Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. + +Second Citizen We may, sir, if we will. + +Third Citizen We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a + power that we have no power to do; for if he show us + his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our + tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if + he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him + our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is + monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, + were to make a monster of the multitude: of the + which we being members, should bring ourselves to be + monstrous members. + +First Citizen And to make us no better thought of, a little help + will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he + himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. + +Third Citizen We have been called so of many; not that our heads + are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, + but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and + truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of + one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, + and their consent of one direct way should be at + once to all the points o' the compass. + +Second Citizen Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would + fly? + +Third Citizen Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's + will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but + if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward. + +Second Citizen Why that way? + +Third Citizen To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts + melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return + for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife. + +Second Citizen You are never without your tricks: you may, you may. + +Third Citizen Are you all resolved to give your voices? But + that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I + say, if he would incline to the people, there was + never a worthier man. + + [Enter CORIOLANUS in a gown of humility, + with MENENIUS] + + Here he comes, and in the gown of humility: mark his + behavior. We are not to stay all together, but to + come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and + by threes. He's to make his requests by + particulars; wherein every one of us has a single + honour, in giving him our own voices with our own + tongues: therefore follow me, and I direct you how + you shall go by him. + +All Content, content. + + [Exeunt Citizens] + +MENENIUS O sir, you are not right: have you not known + The worthiest men have done't? + +CORIOLANUS What must I say? + 'I Pray, sir'--Plague upon't! I cannot bring + My tongue to such a pace:--'Look, sir, my wounds! + I got them in my country's service, when + Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran + From the noise of our own drums.' + +MENENIUS O me, the gods! + You must not speak of that: you must desire them + To think upon you. + +CORIOLANUS Think upon me! hang 'em! + I would they would forget me, like the virtues + Which our divines lose by 'em. + +MENENIUS You'll mar all: + I'll leave you: pray you, speak to 'em, I pray you, + In wholesome manner. + + [Exit] + +CORIOLANUS Bid them wash their faces + And keep their teeth clean. + + [Re-enter two of the Citizens] + + So, here comes a brace. + + [Re-enter a third Citizen] + + You know the cause, air, of my standing here. + +Third Citizen We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. + +CORIOLANUS Mine own desert. + +Second Citizen Your own desert! + +CORIOLANUS Ay, but not mine own desire. + +Third Citizen How not your own desire? + +CORIOLANUS No, sir,'twas never my desire yet to trouble the + poor with begging. + +Third Citizen You must think, if we give you any thing, we hope to + gain by you. + +CORIOLANUS Well then, I pray, your price o' the consulship? + +First Citizen The price is to ask it kindly. + +CORIOLANUS Kindly! Sir, I pray, let me ha't: I have wounds to + show you, which shall be yours in private. Your + good voice, sir; what say you? + +Second Citizen You shall ha' it, worthy sir. + +CORIOLANUS A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices + begged. I have your alms: adieu. + +Third Citizen But this is something odd. + +Second Citizen An 'twere to give again,--but 'tis no matter. + + [Exeunt the three Citizens] + + [Re-enter two other Citizens] + +CORIOLANUS Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your + voices that I may be consul, I have here the + customary gown. + +Fourth Citizen You have deserved nobly of your country, and you + have not deserved nobly. + +CORIOLANUS Your enigma? + +Fourth Citizen You have been a scourge to her enemies, you have + been a rod to her friends; you have not indeed loved + the common people. + +CORIOLANUS You should account me the more virtuous that I have + not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my + sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer + estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account + gentle: and since the wisdom of their choice is + rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise + the insinuating nod and be off to them most + counterfeitly; that is, sir, I will counterfeit the + bewitchment of some popular man and give it + bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you, + I may be consul. + +Fifth Citizen We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give + you our voices heartily. + +Fourth Citizen You have received many wounds for your country. + +CORIOLANUS I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I + will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no further. + +Both Citizens The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! + + [Exeunt] + +CORIOLANUS Most sweet voices! + Better it is to die, better to starve, + Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. + Why in this woolvish toge should I stand here, + To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, + Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't: + What custom wills, in all things should we do't, + The dust on antique time would lie unswept, + And mountainous error be too highly heapt + For truth to o'er-peer. Rather than fool it so, + Let the high office and the honour go + To one that would do thus. I am half through; + The one part suffer'd, the other will I do. + + [Re-enter three Citizens more] + + Here come more voices. + Your voices: for your voices I have fought; + Watch'd for your voices; for Your voices bear + Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six + I have seen and heard of; for your voices have + Done many things, some less, some more your voices: + Indeed I would be consul. + +Sixth Citizen He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest + man's voice. + +Seventh Citizen Therefore let him be consul: the gods give him joy, + and make him good friend to the people! + +All Citizens Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul! + + [Exeunt] + +CORIOLANUS Worthy voices! + + [Re-enter MENENIUS, with BRUTUS and SICINIUS] + +MENENIUS You have stood your limitation; and the tribunes + Endue you with the people's voice: remains + That, in the official marks invested, you + Anon do meet the senate. + +CORIOLANUS Is this done? + +SICINIUS The custom of request you have discharged: + The people do admit you, and are summon'd + To meet anon, upon your approbation. + +CORIOLANUS Where? at the senate-house? + +SICINIUS There, Coriolanus. + +CORIOLANUS May I change these garments? + +SICINIUS You may, sir. + +CORIOLANUS That I'll straight do; and, knowing myself again, + Repair to the senate-house. + +MENENIUS I'll keep you company. Will you along? + +BRUTUS We stay here for the people. + +SICINIUS Fare you well. + + [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS] + + He has it now, and by his looks methink + 'Tis warm at 's heart. + +BRUTUS With a proud heart he wore his humble weeds. + will you dismiss the people? + + [Re-enter Citizens] + +SICINIUS How now, my masters! have you chose this man? + +First Citizen He has our voices, sir. + +BRUTUS We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. + +Second Citizen Amen, sir: to my poor unworthy notice, + He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices. + +Third Citizen Certainly + He flouted us downright. + +First Citizen No,'tis his kind of speech: he did not mock us. + +Second Citizen Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says + He used us scornfully: he should have show'd us + His marks of merit, wounds received for's country. + +SICINIUS Why, so he did, I am sure. + +Citizens No, no; no man saw 'em. + +Third Citizen He said he had wounds, which he could show + in private; + And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, + 'I would be consul,' says he: 'aged custom, + But by your voices, will not so permit me; + Your voices therefore.' When we granted that, + Here was 'I thank you for your voices: thank you: + Your most sweet voices: now you have left + your voices, + I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery? + +SICINIUS Why either were you ignorant to see't, + Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness + To yield your voices? + +BRUTUS Could you not have told him + As you were lesson'd, when he had no power, + But was a petty servant to the state, + He was your enemy, ever spake against + Your liberties and the charters that you bear + I' the body of the weal; and now, arriving + A place of potency and sway o' the state, + If he should still malignantly remain + Fast foe to the plebeii, your voices might + Be curses to yourselves? You should have said + That as his worthy deeds did claim no less + Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature + Would think upon you for your voices and + Translate his malice towards you into love, + Standing your friendly lord. + +SICINIUS Thus to have said, + As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his spirit + And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd + Either his gracious promise, which you might, + As cause had call'd you up, have held him to + Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, + Which easily endures not article + Tying him to aught; so putting him to rage, + You should have ta'en the advantage of his choler + And pass'd him unelected. + +BRUTUS Did you perceive + He did solicit you in free contempt + When he did need your loves, and do you think + That his contempt shall not be bruising to you, + When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies + No heart among you? or had you tongues to cry + Against the rectorship of judgment? + +SICINIUS Have you + Ere now denied the asker? and now again + Of him that did not ask, but mock, bestow + Your sued-for tongues? + +Third Citizen He's not confirm'd; we may deny him yet. + +Second Citizen And will deny him: + I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. + +First Citizen I twice five hundred and their friends to piece 'em. + +BRUTUS Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, + They have chose a consul that will from them take + Their liberties; make them of no more voice + Than dogs that are as often beat for barking + As therefore kept to do so. + +SICINIUS Let them assemble, + And on a safer judgment all revoke + Your ignorant election; enforce his pride, + And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not + With what contempt he wore the humble weed, + How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, + Thinking upon his services, took from you + The apprehension of his present portance, + Which most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion + After the inveterate hate he bears you. + +BRUTUS Lay + A fault on us, your tribunes; that we laboured, + No impediment between, but that you must + Cast your election on him. + +SICINIUS Say, you chose him + More after our commandment than as guided + By your own true affections, and that your minds, + Preoccupied with what you rather must do + Than what you should, made you against the grain + To voice him consul: lay the fault on us. + +BRUTUS Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you. + How youngly he began to serve his country, + How long continued, and what stock he springs of, + The noble house o' the Marcians, from whence came + That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, + Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; + Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, + That our beat water brought by conduits hither; + And [Censorinus,] nobly named so, + Twice being [by the people chosen] censor, + Was his great ancestor. + +SICINIUS One thus descended, + That hath beside well in his person wrought + To be set high in place, we did commend + To your remembrances: but you have found, + Scaling his present bearing with his past, + That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke + Your sudden approbation. + +BRUTUS Say, you ne'er had done't-- + Harp on that still--but by our putting on; + And presently, when you have drawn your number, + Repair to the Capitol. + +All We will so: almost all + Repent in their election. + + [Exeunt Citizens] + +BRUTUS Let them go on; + This mutiny were better put in hazard, + Than stay, past doubt, for greater: + If, as his nature is, he fall in rage + With their refusal, both observe and answer + The vantage of his anger. + +SICINIUS To the Capitol, come: + We will be there before the stream o' the people; + And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, + Which we have goaded onward. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Rome. A street. + + + [Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, all the + Gentry, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other Senators] + +CORIOLANUS Tullus Aufidius then had made new head? + +LARTIUS He had, my lord; and that it was which caused + Our swifter composition. + +CORIOLANUS So then the Volsces stand but as at first, + Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road. + Upon's again. + +COMINIUS They are worn, lord consul, so, + That we shall hardly in our ages see + Their banners wave again. + +CORIOLANUS Saw you Aufidius? + +LARTIUS On safe-guard he came to me; and did curse + Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely + Yielded the town: he is retired to Antium. + +CORIOLANUS Spoke he of me? + +LARTIUS He did, my lord. + +CORIOLANUS How? what? + +LARTIUS How often he had met you, sword to sword; + That of all things upon the earth he hated + Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes + To hopeless restitution, so he might + Be call'd your vanquisher. + +CORIOLANUS At Antium lives he? + +LARTIUS At Antium. + +CORIOLANUS I wish I had a cause to seek him there, + To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. + + [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS] + + Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, + The tongues o' the common mouth: I do despise them; + For they do prank them in authority, + Against all noble sufferance. + +SICINIUS Pass no further. + +CORIOLANUS Ha! what is that? + +BRUTUS It will be dangerous to go on: no further. + +CORIOLANUS What makes this change? + +MENENIUS The matter? + +COMINIUS Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? + +BRUTUS Cominius, no. + +CORIOLANUS Have I had children's voices? + +First Senator Tribunes, give way; he shall to the market-place. + +BRUTUS The people are incensed against him. + +SICINIUS Stop, + Or all will fall in broil. + +CORIOLANUS Are these your herd? + Must these have voices, that can yield them now + And straight disclaim their tongues? What are + your offices? + You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? + Have you not set them on? + +MENENIUS Be calm, be calm. + +CORIOLANUS It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, + To curb the will of the nobility: + Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule + Nor ever will be ruled. + +BRUTUS Call't not a plot: + The people cry you mock'd them, and of late, + When corn was given them gratis, you repined; + Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them + Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. + +CORIOLANUS Why, this was known before. + +BRUTUS Not to them all. + +CORIOLANUS Have you inform'd them sithence? + +BRUTUS How! I inform them! + +CORIOLANUS You are like to do such business. + +BRUTUS Not unlike, + Each way, to better yours. + +CORIOLANUS Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, + Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me + Your fellow tribune. + +SICINIUS You show too much of that + For which the people stir: if you will pass + To where you are bound, you must inquire your way, + Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, + Or never be so noble as a consul, + Nor yoke with him for tribune. + +MENENIUS Let's be calm. + +COMINIUS The people are abused; set on. This paltering + Becomes not Rome, nor has Coriolanus + Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely + I' the plain way of his merit. + +CORIOLANUS Tell me of corn! + This was my speech, and I will speak't again-- + +MENENIUS Not now, not now. + +First Senator Not in this heat, sir, now. + +CORIOLANUS Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, + I crave their pardons: + For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them + Regard me as I do not flatter, and + Therein behold themselves: I say again, + In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate + The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, + Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, + and scatter'd, + By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, + Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that + Which they have given to beggars. + +MENENIUS Well, no more. + +First Senator No more words, we beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS How! no more! + As for my country I have shed my blood, + Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs + Coin words till their decay against those measles, + Which we disdain should tatter us, yet sought + The very way to catch them. + +BRUTUS You speak o' the people, + As if you were a god to punish, not + A man of their infirmity. + +SICINIUS 'Twere well + We let the people know't. + +MENENIUS What, what? his choler? + +CORIOLANUS Choler! + Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, + By Jove, 'twould be my mind! + +SICINIUS It is a mind + That shall remain a poison where it is, + Not poison any further. + +CORIOLANUS Shall remain! + Hear you this Triton of the minnows? mark you + His absolute 'shall'? + +COMINIUS 'Twas from the canon. + +CORIOLANUS 'Shall'! + O good but most unwise patricians! why, + You grave but reckless senators, have you thus + Given Hydra here to choose an officer, + That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but + The horn and noise o' the monster's, wants not spirit + To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, + And make your channel his? If he have power + Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake + Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, + Be not as common fools; if you are not, + Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, + If they be senators: and they are no less, + When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste + Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate, + And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' + His popular 'shall' against a graver bench + Than ever frown in Greece. By Jove himself! + It makes the consuls base: and my soul aches + To know, when two authorities are up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take + The one by the other. + +COMINIUS Well, on to the market-place. + +CORIOLANUS Whoever gave that counsel, to give forth + The corn o' the storehouse gratis, as 'twas used + Sometime in Greece,-- + +MENENIUS Well, well, no more of that. + +CORIOLANUS Though there the people had more absolute power, + I say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed + The ruin of the state. + +BRUTUS Why, shall the people give + One that speaks thus their voice? + +CORIOLANUS I'll give my reasons, + More worthier than their voices. They know the corn + Was not our recompense, resting well assured + That ne'er did service for't: being press'd to the war, + Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, + They would not thread the gates. This kind of service + Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' the war + Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd + Most valour, spoke not for them: the accusation + Which they have often made against the senate, + All cause unborn, could never be the motive + Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? + How shall this bisson multitude digest + The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express + What's like to be their words: 'we did request it; + We are the greater poll, and in true fear + They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase + The nature of our seats and make the rabble + Call our cares fears; which will in time + Break ope the locks o' the senate and bring in + The crows to peck the eagles. + +MENENIUS Come, enough. + +BRUTUS Enough, with over-measure. + +CORIOLANUS No, take more: + What may be sworn by, both divine and human, + Seal what I end withal! This double worship, + Where one part does disdain with cause, the other + Insult without all reason, where gentry, title, wisdom, + Cannot conclude but by the yea and no + Of general ignorance,--it must omit + Real necessities, and give way the while + To unstable slightness: purpose so barr'd, + it follows, + Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you,-- + You that will be less fearful than discreet, + That love the fundamental part of state + More than you doubt the change on't, that prefer + A noble life before a long, and wish + To jump a body with a dangerous physic + That's sure of death without it, at once pluck out + The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick + The sweet which is their poison: your dishonour + Mangles true judgment and bereaves the state + Of that integrity which should become't, + Not having the power to do the good it would, + For the in which doth control't. + +BRUTUS Has said enough. + +SICINIUS Has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer + As traitors do. + +CORIOLANUS Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! + What should the people do with these bald tribunes? + On whom depending, their obedience fails + To the greater bench: in a rebellion, + When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, + Then were they chosen: in a better hour, + Let what is meet be said it must be meet, + And throw their power i' the dust. + +BRUTUS Manifest treason! + +SICINIUS This a consul? no. + +BRUTUS The aediles, ho! + + [Enter an AEdile] + + Let him be apprehended. + +SICINIUS Go, call the people: + + [Exit AEdile] + + in whose name myself + Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, + A foe to the public weal: obey, I charge thee, + And follow to thine answer. + +CORIOLANUS Hence, old goat! + +Senators, &C We'll surety him. + +COMINIUS Aged sir, hands off. + +CORIOLANUS Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones + Out of thy garments. + +SICINIUS Help, ye citizens! + + [Enter a rabble of Citizens (Plebeians), with + the AEdiles] + +MENENIUS On both sides more respect. + +SICINIUS Here's he that would take from you all your power. + +BRUTUS Seize him, AEdiles! + +Citizens Down with him! down with him! + +Senators, &C Weapons, weapons, weapons! + + [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS, crying] + + 'Tribunes!' 'Patricians!' 'Citizens!' 'What, ho!' + 'Sicinius!' 'Brutus!' 'Coriolanus!' 'Citizens!' + 'Peace, peace, peace!' 'Stay, hold, peace!' + +MENENIUS What is about to be? I am out of breath; + Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You, tribunes + To the people! Coriolanus, patience! + Speak, good Sicinius. + +SICINIUS Hear me, people; peace! + +Citizens Let's hear our tribune: peace Speak, speak, speak. + +SICINIUS You are at point to lose your liberties: + Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, + Whom late you have named for consul. + +MENENIUS Fie, fie, fie! + This is the way to kindle, not to quench. + +First Senator To unbuild the city and to lay all flat. + +SICINIUS What is the city but the people? + +Citizens True, + The people are the city. + +BRUTUS By the consent of all, we were establish'd + The people's magistrates. + +Citizens You so remain. + +MENENIUS And so are like to do. + +COMINIUS That is the way to lay the city flat; + To bring the roof to the foundation, + And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, + In heaps and piles of ruin. + +SICINIUS This deserves death. + +BRUTUS Or let us stand to our authority, + Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, + Upon the part o' the people, in whose power + We were elected theirs, Marcius is worthy + Of present death. + +SICINIUS Therefore lay hold of him; + Bear him to the rock Tarpeian, and from thence + Into destruction cast him. + +BRUTUS AEdiles, seize him! + +Citizens Yield, Marcius, yield! + +MENENIUS Hear me one word; + Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. + +AEdile Peace, peace! + +MENENIUS [To BRUTUS] Be that you seem, truly your + country's friend, + And temperately proceed to what you would + Thus violently redress. + +BRUTUS Sir, those cold ways, + That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous + Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him, + And bear him to the rock. + +CORIOLANUS No, I'll die here. + + [Drawing his sword] + + There's some among you have beheld me fighting: + Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. + +MENENIUS Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. + +BRUTUS Lay hands upon him. + +COMINIUS Help Marcius, help, + You that be noble; help him, young and old! + +Citizens Down with him, down with him! + + [In this mutiny, the Tribunes, the AEdiles, and the + People, are beat in] + +MENENIUS Go, get you to your house; be gone, away! + All will be naught else. + +Second Senator Get you gone. + +COMINIUS Stand fast; + We have as many friends as enemies. + +MENENIUS Sham it be put to that? + +First Senator The gods forbid! + I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; + Leave us to cure this cause. + +MENENIUS For 'tis a sore upon us, + You cannot tent yourself: be gone, beseech you. + +COMINIUS Come, sir, along with us. + +CORIOLANUS I would they were barbarians--as they are, + Though in Rome litter'd--not Romans--as they are not, + Though calved i' the porch o' the Capitol-- + +MENENIUS Be gone; + Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; + One time will owe another. + +CORIOLANUS On fair ground + I could beat forty of them. + +COMINIUS I could myself + Take up a brace o' the best of them; yea, the + two tribunes: + But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic; + And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands + Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, + Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend + Like interrupted waters and o'erbear + What they are used to bear. + +MENENIUS Pray you, be gone: + I'll try whether my old wit be in request + With those that have but little: this must be patch'd + With cloth of any colour. + +COMINIUS Nay, come away. + + [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, and others] + +A Patrician This man has marr'd his fortune. + +MENENIUS His nature is too noble for the world: + He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, + Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth: + What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; + And, being angry, does forget that ever + He heard the name of death. + + [A noise within] + + Here's goodly work! + +Second Patrician I would they were abed! + +MENENIUS I would they were in Tiber! What the vengeance! + Could he not speak 'em fair? + + [Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, with the rabble] + +SICINIUS Where is this viper + That would depopulate the city and + Be every man himself? + +MENENIUS You worthy tribunes,-- + +SICINIUS He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock + With rigorous hands: he hath resisted law, + And therefore law shall scorn him further trial + Than the severity of the public power + Which he so sets at nought. + +First Citizen He shall well know + The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, + And we their hands. + +Citizens He shall, sure on't. + +MENENIUS Sir, sir,-- + +SICINIUS Peace! + +MENENIUS Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt + With modest warrant. + +SICINIUS Sir, how comes't that you + Have holp to make this rescue? + +MENENIUS Hear me speak: + As I do know the consul's worthiness, + So can I name his faults,-- + +SICINIUS Consul! what consul? + +MENENIUS The consul Coriolanus. + +BRUTUS He consul! + +Citizens No, no, no, no, no. + +MENENIUS If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, + I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; + The which shall turn you to no further harm + Than so much loss of time. + +SICINIUS Speak briefly then; + For we are peremptory to dispatch + This viperous traitor: to eject him hence + Were but one danger, and to keep him here + Our certain death: therefore it is decreed + He dies to-night. + +MENENIUS Now the good gods forbid + That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude + Towards her deserved children is enroll'd + In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam + Should now eat up her own! + +SICINIUS He's a disease that must be cut away. + +MENENIUS O, he's a limb that has but a disease; + Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy. + What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? + Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost-- + Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he hath, + By many an ounce--he dropp'd it for his country; + And what is left, to lose it by his country, + Were to us all, that do't and suffer it, + A brand to the end o' the world. + +SICINIUS This is clean kam. + +BRUTUS Merely awry: when he did love his country, + It honour'd him. + +MENENIUS The service of the foot + Being once gangrened, is not then respected + For what before it was. + +BRUTUS We'll hear no more. + Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence: + Lest his infection, being of catching nature, + Spread further. + +MENENIUS One word more, one word. + This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find + The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will too late + Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process; + Lest parties, as he is beloved, break out, + And sack great Rome with Romans. + +BRUTUS If it were so,-- + +SICINIUS What do ye talk? + Have we not had a taste of his obedience? + Our aediles smote? ourselves resisted? Come. + +MENENIUS Consider this: he has been bred i' the wars + Since he could draw a sword, and is ill school'd + In bolted language; meal and bran together + He throws without distinction. Give me leave, + I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him + Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, + In peace, to his utmost peril. + +First Senator Noble tribunes, + It is the humane way: the other course + Will prove too bloody, and the end of it + Unknown to the beginning. + +SICINIUS Noble Menenius, + Be you then as the people's officer. + Masters, lay down your weapons. + +BRUTUS Go not home. + +SICINIUS Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there: + Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed + In our first way. + +MENENIUS I'll bring him to you. + + [To the Senators] + + Let me desire your company: he must come, + Or what is worst will follow. + +First Senator Pray you, let's to him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A room in CORIOLANUS'S house. + + + [Enter CORIOLANUS with Patricians] + +CORIOLANUS Let them puff all about mine ears, present me + Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels, + Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, + That the precipitation might down stretch + Below the beam of sight, yet will I still + Be thus to them. + +A Patrician You do the nobler. + +CORIOLANUS I muse my mother + Does not approve me further, who was wont + To call them woollen vassals, things created + To buy and sell with groats, to show bare heads + In congregations, to yawn, be still and wonder, + When one but of my ordinance stood up + To speak of peace or war. + + [Enter VOLUMNIA] + + I talk of you: + Why did you wish me milder? would you have me + False to my nature? Rather say I play + The man I am. + +VOLUMNIA O, sir, sir, sir, + I would have had you put your power well on, + Before you had worn it out. + +CORIOLANUS Let go. + +VOLUMNIA You might have been enough the man you are, + With striving less to be so; lesser had been + The thwartings of your dispositions, if + You had not show'd them how ye were disposed + Ere they lack'd power to cross you. + +CORIOLANUS Let them hang. + +A Patrician Ay, and burn too. + + [Enter MENENIUS and Senators] + +MENENIUS Come, come, you have been too rough, something + too rough; + You must return and mend it. + +First Senator There's no remedy; + Unless, by not so doing, our good city + Cleave in the midst, and perish. + +VOLUMNIA Pray, be counsell'd: + I have a heart as little apt as yours, + But yet a brain that leads my use of anger + To better vantage. + +MENENIUS Well said, noble woman? + Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but that + The violent fit o' the time craves it as physic + For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, + Which I can scarcely bear. + +CORIOLANUS What must I do? + +MENENIUS Return to the tribunes. + +CORIOLANUS Well, what then? what then? + +MENENIUS Repent what you have spoke. + +CORIOLANUS For them! I cannot do it to the gods; + Must I then do't to them? + +VOLUMNIA You are too absolute; + Though therein you can never be too noble, + But when extremities speak. I have heard you say, + Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, + I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me, + In peace what each of them by the other lose, + That they combine not there. + +CORIOLANUS Tush, tush! + +MENENIUS A good demand. + +VOLUMNIA If it be honour in your wars to seem + The same you are not, which, for your best ends, + You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse, + That it shall hold companionship in peace + With honour, as in war, since that to both + It stands in like request? + +CORIOLANUS Why force you this? + +VOLUMNIA Because that now it lies you on to speak + To the people; not by your own instruction, + Nor by the matter which your heart prompts you, + But with such words that are but rooted in + Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables + Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. + Now, this no more dishonours you at all + Than to take in a town with gentle words, + Which else would put you to your fortune and + The hazard of much blood. + I would dissemble with my nature where + My fortunes and my friends at stake required + I should do so in honour: I am in this, + Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; + And you will rather show our general louts + How you can frown than spend a fawn upon 'em, + For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard + Of what that want might ruin. + +MENENIUS Noble lady! + Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve so, + Not what is dangerous present, but the loss + Of what is past. + +VOLUMNIA I prithee now, my son, + Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; + And thus far having stretch'd it--here be with them-- + Thy knee bussing the stones--for in such business + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than the ears--waving thy head, + Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, + Now humble as the ripest mulberry + That will not hold the handling: or say to them, + Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils + Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, + Were fit for thee to use as they to claim, + In asking their good loves, but thou wilt frame + Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far + As thou hast power and person. + +MENENIUS This but done, + Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; + For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free + As words to little purpose. + +VOLUMNIA Prithee now, + Go, and be ruled: although I know thou hadst rather + Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf + Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. + + [Enter COMINIUS] + +COMINIUS I have been i' the market-place; and, sir,'tis fit + You make strong party, or defend yourself + By calmness or by absence: all's in anger. + +MENENIUS Only fair speech. + +COMINIUS I think 'twill serve, if he + Can thereto frame his spirit. + +VOLUMNIA He must, and will + Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. + +CORIOLANUS Must I go show them my unbarbed sconce? + Must I with base tongue give my noble heart + A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't: + Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, + This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it + And throw't against the wind. To the market-place! + You have put me now to such a part which never + I shall discharge to the life. + +COMINIUS Come, come, we'll prompt you. + +VOLUMNIA I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said + My praises made thee first a soldier, so, + To have my praise for this, perform a part + Thou hast not done before. + +CORIOLANUS Well, I must do't: + Away, my disposition, and possess me + Some harlot's spirit! my throat of war be turn'd, + Which quired with my drum, into a pipe + Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice + That babies lulls asleep! the smiles of knaves + Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up + The glasses of my sight! a beggar's tongue + Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, + Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his + That hath received an alms! I will not do't, + Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth + And by my body's action teach my mind + A most inherent baseness. + +VOLUMNIA At thy choice, then: + To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour + Than thou of them. Come all to ruin; let + Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear + Thy dangerous stoutness, for I mock at death + With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list + Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me, + But owe thy pride thyself. + +CORIOLANUS Pray, be content: + Mother, I am going to the market-place; + Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, + Cog their hearts from them, and come home beloved + Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going: + Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul; + Or never trust to what my tongue can do + I' the way of flattery further. + +VOLUMNIA Do your will. + + [Exit] + +COMINIUS Away! the tribunes do attend you: arm yourself + To answer mildly; for they are prepared + With accusations, as I hear, more strong + Than are upon you yet. + +CORIOLANUS The word is 'mildly.' Pray you, let us go: + Let them accuse me by invention, I + Will answer in mine honour. + +MENENIUS Ay, but mildly. + +CORIOLANUS Well, mildly be it then. Mildly! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The same. The Forum. + + + [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS] + +BRUTUS In this point charge him home, that he affects + Tyrannical power: if he evade us there, + Enforce him with his envy to the people, + And that the spoil got on the Antiates + Was ne'er distributed. + + [Enter an AEdile] + + What, will he come? + +AEdile He's coming. + +BRUTUS How accompanied? + +AEdile With old Menenius, and those senators + That always favour'd him. + +SICINIUS Have you a catalogue + Of all the voices that we have procured + Set down by the poll? + +AEdile I have; 'tis ready. + +SICINIUS Have you collected them by tribes? + +AEdile I have. + +SICINIUS Assemble presently the people hither; + And when they bear me say 'It shall be so + I' the right and strength o' the commons,' be it either + For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them + If I say fine, cry 'Fine;' if death, cry 'Death.' + Insisting on the old prerogative + And power i' the truth o' the cause. + +AEdile I shall inform them. + +BRUTUS And when such time they have begun to cry, + Let them not cease, but with a din confused + Enforce the present execution + Of what we chance to sentence. + +AEdile Very well. + +SICINIUS Make them be strong and ready for this hint, + When we shall hap to give 't them. + +BRUTUS Go about it. + + [Exit AEdile] + + Put him to choler straight: he hath been used + Ever to conquer, and to have his worth + Of contradiction: being once chafed, he cannot + Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks + What's in his heart; and that is there which looks + With us to break his neck. + +SICINIUS Well, here he comes. + + [Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, and COMINIUS, + with Senators and Patricians] + +MENENIUS Calmly, I do beseech you. + +CORIOLANUS Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest piece + Will bear the knave by the volume. The honour'd gods + Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice + Supplied with worthy men! plant love among 's! + Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, + And not our streets with war! + +First Senator Amen, amen. + +MENENIUS A noble wish. + + [Re-enter AEdile, with Citizens] + +SICINIUS Draw near, ye people. + +AEdile List to your tribunes. Audience: peace, I say! + +CORIOLANUS First, hear me speak. + +Both Tribunes Well, say. Peace, ho! + +CORIOLANUS Shall I be charged no further than this present? + Must all determine here? + +SICINIUS I do demand, + If you submit you to the people's voices, + Allow their officers and are content + To suffer lawful censure for such faults + As shall be proved upon you? + +CORIOLANUS I am content. + +MENENIUS Lo, citizens, he says he is content: + The warlike service he has done, consider; think + Upon the wounds his body bears, which show + Like graves i' the holy churchyard. + +CORIOLANUS Scratches with briers, + Scars to move laughter only. + +MENENIUS Consider further, + That when he speaks not like a citizen, + You find him like a soldier: do not take + His rougher accents for malicious sounds, + But, as I say, such as become a soldier, + Rather than envy you. + +COMINIUS Well, well, no more. + +CORIOLANUS What is the matter + That being pass'd for consul with full voice, + I am so dishonour'd that the very hour + You take it off again? + +SICINIUS Answer to us. + +CORIOLANUS Say, then: 'tis true, I ought so. + +SICINIUS We charge you, that you have contrived to take + From Rome all season'd office and to wind + Yourself into a power tyrannical; + For which you are a traitor to the people. + +CORIOLANUS How! traitor! + +MENENIUS Nay, temperately; your promise. + +CORIOLANUS The fires i' the lowest hell fold-in the people! + Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! + Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, + In thy hand clutch'd as many millions, in + Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say + 'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free + As I do pray the gods. + +SICINIUS Mark you this, people? + +Citizens To the rock, to the rock with him! + +SICINIUS Peace! + We need not put new matter to his charge: + What you have seen him do and heard him speak, + Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, + Opposing laws with strokes and here defying + Those whose great power must try him; even this, + So criminal and in such capital kind, + Deserves the extremest death. + +BRUTUS But since he hath + Served well for Rome,-- + +CORIOLANUS What do you prate of service? + +BRUTUS I talk of that, that know it. + +CORIOLANUS You? + +MENENIUS Is this the promise that you made your mother? + +COMINIUS Know, I pray you,-- + +CORIOLANUS I know no further: + Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, + Vagabond exile, raying, pent to linger + But with a grain a day, I would not buy + Their mercy at the price of one fair word; + Nor cheque my courage for what they can give, + To have't with saying 'Good morrow.' + +SICINIUS For that he has, + As much as in him lies, from time to time + Envied against the people, seeking means + To pluck away their power, as now at last + Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence + Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers + That do distribute it; in the name o' the people + And in the power of us the tribunes, we, + Even from this instant, banish him our city, + In peril of precipitation + From off the rock Tarpeian never more + To enter our Rome gates: i' the people's name, + I say it shall be so. + +Citizens It shall be so, it shall be so; let him away: + He's banish'd, and it shall be so. + +COMINIUS Hear me, my masters, and my common friends,-- + +SICINIUS He's sentenced; no more hearing. + +COMINIUS Let me speak: + I have been consul, and can show for Rome + Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love + My country's good with a respect more tender, + More holy and profound, than mine own life, + My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase, + And treasure of my loins; then if I would + Speak that,-- + +SICINIUS We know your drift: speak what? + +BRUTUS There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, + As enemy to the people and his country: + It shall be so. + +Citizens It shall be so, it shall be so. + +CORIOLANUS You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate + As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize + As the dead carcasses of unburied men + That do corrupt my air, I banish you; + And here remain with your uncertainty! + Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! + Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, + Fan you into despair! Have the power still + To banish your defenders; till at length + Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels, + Making not reservation of yourselves, + Still your own foes, deliver you as most + Abated captives to some nation + That won you without blows! Despising, + For you, the city, thus I turn my back: + There is a world elsewhere. + + [Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, Senators, + and Patricians] + +AEdile The people's enemy is gone, is gone! + +Citizens Our enemy is banish'd! he is gone! Hoo! hoo! + + [Shouting, and throwing up their caps] + +SICINIUS Go, see him out at gates, and follow him, + As he hath followed you, with all despite; + Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard + Attend us through the city. + +Citizens Come, come; let's see him out at gates; come. + The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Rome. Before a gate of the city. + + + [Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, + COMINIUS, with the young Nobility of Rome] + +CORIOLANUS Come, leave your tears: a brief farewell: the beast + With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, + Where is your ancient courage? you were used + To say extremity was the trier of spirits; + That common chances common men could bear; + That when the sea was calm all boats alike + Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, + When most struck home, being gentle wounded, craves + A noble cunning: you were used to load me + With precepts that would make invincible + The heart that conn'd them. + +VIRGILIA O heavens! O heavens! + +CORIOLANUS Nay! prithee, woman,-- + +VOLUMNIA Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, + And occupations perish! + +CORIOLANUS What, what, what! + I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother. + Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, + If you had been the wife of Hercules, + Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved + Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, + Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother: + I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, + Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, + And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, + I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld + Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women + 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, + As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well + My hazards still have been your solace: and + Believe't not lightly--though I go alone, + Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen + Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son + Will or exceed the common or be caught + With cautelous baits and practise. + +VOLUMNIA My first son. + Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius + With thee awhile: determine on some course, + More than a wild exposture to each chance + That starts i' the way before thee. + +CORIOLANUS O the gods! + +COMINIUS I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee + Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us + And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth + A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send + O'er the vast world to seek a single man, + And lose advantage, which doth ever cool + I' the absence of the needer. + +CORIOLANUS Fare ye well: + Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too full + Of the wars' surfeits, to go rove with one + That's yet unbruised: bring me but out at gate. + Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and + My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, + Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. + While I remain above the ground, you shall + Hear from me still, and never of me aught + But what is like me formerly. + +MENENIUS That's worthily + As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. + If I could shake off but one seven years + From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, + I'ld with thee every foot. + +CORIOLANUS Give me thy hand: Come. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The same. A street near the gate. + + + [Enter SICINIUS, BRUTUS, and an AEdile] + +SICINIUS Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. + The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided + In his behalf. + +BRUTUS Now we have shown our power, + Let us seem humbler after it is done + Than when it was a-doing. + +SICINIUS Bid them home: + Say their great enemy is gone, and they + Stand in their ancient strength. + +BRUTUS Dismiss them home. + + [Exit AEdile] + + Here comes his mother. + +SICINIUS Let's not meet her. + +BRUTUS Why? + +SICINIUS They say she's mad. + +BRUTUS They have ta'en note of us: keep on your way. + + [Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS] + +VOLUMNIA O, ye're well met: the hoarded plague o' the gods + Requite your love! + +MENENIUS Peace, peace; be not so loud. + +VOLUMNIA If that I could for weeping, you should hear,-- + Nay, and you shall hear some. + + [To BRUTUS] + + Will you be gone? + +VIRGILIA [To SICINIUS] You shall stay too: I would I had the power + To say so to my husband. + +SICINIUS Are you mankind? + +VOLUMNIA Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this fool. + Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship + To banish him that struck more blows for Rome + Than thou hast spoken words? + +SICINIUS O blessed heavens! + +VOLUMNIA More noble blows than ever thou wise words; + And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what; yet go: + Nay, but thou shalt stay too: I would my son + Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, + His good sword in his hand. + +SICINIUS What then? + +VIRGILIA What then! + He'ld make an end of thy posterity. + +VOLUMNIA Bastards and all. + Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! + +MENENIUS Come, come, peace. + +SICINIUS I would he had continued to his country + As he began, and not unknit himself + The noble knot he made. + +BRUTUS I would he had. + +VOLUMNIA 'I would he had'! 'Twas you incensed the rabble: + Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth + As I can of those mysteries which heaven + Will not have earth to know. + +BRUTUS Pray, let us go. + +VOLUMNIA Now, pray, sir, get you gone: + You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this:-- + As far as doth the Capitol exceed + The meanest house in Rome, so far my son-- + This lady's husband here, this, do you see-- + Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. + +BRUTUS Well, well, we'll leave you. + +SICINIUS Why stay we to be baited + With one that wants her wits? + +VOLUMNIA Take my prayers with you. + + [Exeunt Tribunes] + + I would the gods had nothing else to do + But to confirm my curses! Could I meet 'em + But once a-day, it would unclog my heart + Of what lies heavy to't. + +MENENIUS You have told them home; + And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? + +VOLUMNIA Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, + And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go: + Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, + In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. + +MENENIUS Fie, fie, fie! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III A highway between Rome and Antium. + + + [Enter a Roman and a Volsce, meeting] + +Roman I know you well, sir, and you know + me: your name, I think, is Adrian. + +Volsce It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you. + +Roman I am a Roman; and my services are, + as you are, against 'em: know you me yet? + +Volsce Nicanor? no. + +Roman The same, sir. + +Volsce You had more beard when I last saw you; but your + favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the + news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, + to find you out there: you have well saved me a + day's journey. + +Roman There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the + people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. + +Volsce Hath been! is it ended, then? Our state thinks not + so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and + hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. + +Roman The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing + would make it flame again: for the nobles receive + so to heart the banishment of that worthy + Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take + all power from the people and to pluck from them + their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can + tell you, and is almost mature for the violent + breaking out. + +Volsce Coriolanus banished! + +Roman Banished, sir. + +Volsce You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. + +Roman The day serves well for them now. I have heard it + said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is + when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble + Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his + great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request + of his country. + +Volsce He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus + accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my + business, and I will merrily accompany you home. + +Roman I shall, between this and supper, tell you most + strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of + their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? + +Volsce A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, + distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, + and to be on foot at an hour's warning. + +Roman I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the + man, I think, that shall set them in present action. + So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. + +Volsce You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause + to be glad of yours. + +Roman Well, let us go together. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Antium. Before Aufidius's house. + + + [Enter CORIOLANUS in mean apparel, disguised + and muffled] + +CORIOLANUS A goodly city is this Antium. City, + 'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir + Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars + Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not, + Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones + In puny battle slay me. + + [Enter a Citizen] + + Save you, sir. + +Citizen And you. + +CORIOLANUS Direct me, if it be your will, + Where great Aufidius lies: is he in Antium? + +Citizen He is, and feasts the nobles of the state + At his house this night. + +CORIOLANUS Which is his house, beseech you? + +Citizen This, here before you. + +CORIOLANUS Thank you, sir: farewell. + + [Exit Citizen] + + O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, + Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, + Whose house, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, + Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love + Unseparable, shall within this hour, + On a dissension of a doit, break out + To bitterest enmity: so, fellest foes, + Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep, + To take the one the other, by some chance, + Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends + And interjoin their issues. So with me: + My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon + This enemy town. I'll enter: if he slay me, + He does fair justice; if he give me way, + I'll do his country service. + + [Exit] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V The same. A hall in Aufidius's house. + + + [Music within. Enter a Servingman] + +First Servingman Wine, wine, wine! What service + is here! I think our fellows are asleep. + + [Exit] + + [Enter a second Servingman] + +Second Servingman Where's Cotus? my master calls + for him. Cotus! + + [Exit] + + [Enter CORIOLANUS] + +CORIOLANUS A goodly house: the feast smells well; but I + Appear not like a guest. + + [Re-enter the first Servingman] + +First Servingman What would you have, friend? whence are you? + Here's no place for you: pray, go to the door. + + [Exit] + +CORIOLANUS I have deserved no better entertainment, + In being Coriolanus. + + [Re-enter second Servingman] + +Second Servingman Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his + head; that he gives entrance to such companions? + Pray, get you out. + +CORIOLANUS Away! + +Second Servingman Away! get you away. + +CORIOLANUS Now thou'rt troublesome. + +Second Servingman Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon. + + [Enter a third Servingman. The first meets him] + +Third Servingman What fellow's this? + +First Servingman A strange one as ever I looked on: I cannot get him + out of the house: prithee, call my master to him. + + [Retires] + +Third Servingman What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you, avoid + the house. + +CORIOLANUS Let me but stand; I will not hurt your hearth. + +Third Servingman What are you? + +CORIOLANUS A gentleman. + +Third Servingman A marvellous poor one. + +CORIOLANUS True, so I am. + +Third Servingman Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other + station; here's no place for you; pray you, avoid: come. + +CORIOLANUS Follow your function, go, and batten on cold bits. + + [Pushes him away] + +Third Servingman What, you will not? Prithee, tell my master what a + strange guest he has here. + +Second Servingman And I shall. + + [Exit] + +Third Servingman Where dwellest thou? + +CORIOLANUS Under the canopy. + +Third Servingman Under the canopy! + +CORIOLANUS Ay. + +Third Servingman Where's that? + +CORIOLANUS I' the city of kites and crows. + +Third Servingman I' the city of kites and crows! What an ass it is! + Then thou dwellest with daws too? + +CORIOLANUS No, I serve not thy master. + +Third Servingman How, sir! do you meddle with my master? + +CORIOLANUS Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy + mistress. Thou pratest, and pratest; serve with thy + trencher, hence! + + [Beats him away. Exit third Servingman] + + [Enter AUFIDIUS with the second Servingman] + +AUFIDIUS Where is this fellow? + +Second Servingman Here, sir: I'ld have beaten him like a dog, but for + disturbing the lords within. + + [Retires] + +AUFIDIUS Whence comest thou? what wouldst thou? thy name? + Why speak'st not? speak, man: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS If, Tullus, + + [Unmuffling] + + Not yet thou knowest me, and, seeing me, dost not + Think me for the man I am, necessity + Commands me name myself. + +AUFIDIUS What is thy name? + +CORIOLANUS A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, + And harsh in sound to thine. + +AUFIDIUS Say, what's thy name? + Thou hast a grim appearance, and thy face + Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn. + Thou show'st a noble vessel: what's thy name? + +CORIOLANUS Prepare thy brow to frown: know'st + thou me yet? + +AUFIDIUS I know thee not: thy name? + +CORIOLANUS My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done + To thee particularly and to all the Volsces + Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may + My surname, Coriolanus: the painful service, + The extreme dangers and the drops of blood + Shed for my thankless country are requited + But with that surname; a good memory, + And witness of the malice and displeasure + Which thou shouldst bear me: only that name remains; + The cruelty and envy of the people, + Permitted by our dastard nobles, who + Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest; + And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be + Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity + Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope-- + Mistake me not--to save my life, for if + I had fear'd death, of all the men i' the world + I would have 'voided thee, but in mere spite, + To be full quit of those my banishers, + Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast + A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge + Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims + Of shame seen through thy country, speed + thee straight, + And make my misery serve thy turn: so use it + That my revengeful services may prove + As benefits to thee, for I will fight + Against my canker'd country with the spleen + Of all the under fiends. But if so be + Thou darest not this and that to prove more fortunes + Thou'rt tired, then, in a word, I also am + Longer to live most weary, and present + My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; + Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, + Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate, + Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, + And cannot live but to thy shame, unless + It be to do thee service. + +AUFIDIUS O Marcius, Marcius! + Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart + A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter + Should from yond cloud speak divine things, + And say 'Tis true,' I'ld not believe them more + Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine + Mine arms about that body, where against + My grained ash an hundred times hath broke + And scarr'd the moon with splinters: here I clip + The anvil of my sword, and do contest + As hotly and as nobly with thy love + As ever in ambitious strength I did + Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, + I loved the maid I married; never man + Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, + Thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart + Than when I first my wedded mistress saw + Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell thee, + We have a power on foot; and I had purpose + Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, + Or lose mine arm fort: thou hast beat me out + Twelve several times, and I have nightly since + Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; + We have been down together in my sleep, + Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat, + And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, + Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that + Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all + From twelve to seventy, and pouring war + Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, + Like a bold flood o'er-bear. O, come, go in, + And take our friendly senators by the hands; + Who now are here, taking their leaves of me, + Who am prepared against your territories, + Though not for Rome itself. + +CORIOLANUS You bless me, gods! + +AUFIDIUS Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou wilt have + The leading of thine own revenges, take + The one half of my commission; and set down-- + As best thou art experienced, since thou know'st + Thy country's strength and weakness,--thine own ways; + Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, + Or rudely visit them in parts remote, + To fright them, ere destroy. But come in: + Let me commend thee first to those that shall + Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! + And more a friend than e'er an enemy; + Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand: most welcome! + + [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS. The two + Servingmen come forward] + +First Servingman Here's a strange alteration! + +Second Servingman By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with + a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a + false report of him. + +First Servingman What an arm he has! he turned me about with his + finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. + +Second Servingman Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in + him: he had, sir, a kind of face, methought,--I + cannot tell how to term it. + +First Servingman He had so; looking as it were--would I were hanged, + but I thought there was more in him than I could think. + +Second Servingman So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply the rarest + man i' the world. + +First Servingman I think he is: but a greater soldier than he you wot on. + +Second Servingman Who, my master? + +First Servingman Nay, it's no matter for that. + +Second Servingman Worth six on him. + +First Servingman Nay, not so neither: but I take him to be the + greater soldier. + +Second Servingman Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that: + for the defence of a town, our general is excellent. + +First Servingman Ay, and for an assault too. + + [Re-enter third Servingman] + +Third Servingman O slaves, I can tell you news,-- news, you rascals! + + +First Servingman | + | What, what, what? let's partake. +Second Servingman | + + +Third Servingman I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as + lieve be a condemned man. + + +First Servingman | + | Wherefore? wherefore? +Second Servingman | + + +Third Servingman Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general, + Caius Marcius. + +First Servingman Why do you say 'thwack our general '? + +Third Servingman I do not say 'thwack our general;' but he was always + good enough for him. + +Second Servingman Come, we are fellows and friends: he was ever too + hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. + +First Servingman He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth + on't: before Corioli he scotched him and notched + him like a carbon ado. + +Second Servingman An he had been cannibally given, he might have + broiled and eaten him too. + +First Servingman But, more of thy news? + +Third Servingman Why, he is so made on here within, as if he were son + and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' the table; no + question asked him by any of the senators, but they + stand bald before him: our general himself makes a + mistress of him: sanctifies himself with's hand and + turns up the white o' the eye to his discourse. But + the bottom of the news is that our general is cut i' + the middle and but one half of what he was + yesterday; for the other has half, by the entreaty + and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, + and sowl the porter of Rome gates by the ears: he + will mow all down before him, and leave his passage polled. + +Second Servingman And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. + +Third Servingman Do't! he will do't; for, look you, sir, he has as + many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it + were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as + we term it, his friends whilst he's in directitude. + +First Servingman Directitude! what's that? + +Third Servingman But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, + and the man in blood, they will out of their + burrows, like conies after rain, and revel all with + him. + +First Servingman But when goes this forward? + +Third Servingman To-morrow; to-day; presently; you shall have the + drum struck up this afternoon: 'tis, as it were, a + parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they + wipe their lips. + +Second Servingman Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. + This peace is nothing, but to rust iron, increase + tailors, and breed ballad-makers. + +First Servingman Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as + day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and + full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; + mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more + bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. + +Second Servingman 'Tis so: and as war, in some sort, may be said to + be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a + great maker of cuckolds. + +First Servingman Ay, and it makes men hate one another. + +Third Servingman Reason; because they then less need one another. + The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap + as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. + +All In, in, in, in! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Rome. A public place. + + + [Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS] + +SICINIUS We hear not of him, neither need we fear him; + His remedies are tame i' the present peace + And quietness of the people, which before + Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his friends + Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, + Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold + Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see + Our tradesmen with in their shops and going + About their functions friendly. + +BRUTUS We stood to't in good time. + + [Enter MENENIUS] + + Is this Menenius? + +SICINIUS 'Tis he,'tis he: O, he is grown most kind of late. + +Both Tribunes Hail sir! + +MENENIUS Hail to you both! + +SICINIUS Your Coriolanus + Is not much miss'd, but with his friends: + The commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, + Were he more angry at it. + +MENENIUS All's well; and might have been much better, if + He could have temporized. + +SICINIUS Where is he, hear you? + +MENENIUS Nay, I hear nothing: his mother and his wife + Hear nothing from him. + + [Enter three or four Citizens] + +Citizens The gods preserve you both! + +SICINIUS God-den, our neighbours. + +BRUTUS God-den to you all, god-den to you all. + +First Citizen Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees, + Are bound to pray for you both. + +SICINIUS Live, and thrive! + +BRUTUS Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd Coriolanus + Had loved you as we did. + +Citizens Now the gods keep you! + +Both Tribunes Farewell, farewell. + + [Exeunt Citizens] + +SICINIUS This is a happier and more comely time + Than when these fellows ran about the streets, + Crying confusion. + +BRUTUS Caius Marcius was + A worthy officer i' the war; but insolent, + O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, + Self-loving,-- + +SICINIUS And affecting one sole throne, + Without assistance. + +MENENIUS I think not so. + +SICINIUS We should by this, to all our lamentation, + If he had gone forth consul, found it so. + +BRUTUS The gods have well prevented it, and Rome + Sits safe and still without him. + + [Enter an AEdile] + +AEdile Worthy tribunes, + There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, + Reports, the Volsces with two several powers + Are enter'd in the Roman territories, + And with the deepest malice of the war + Destroy what lies before 'em. + +MENENIUS 'Tis Aufidius, + Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, + Thrusts forth his horns again into the world; + Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, + And durst not once peep out. + +SICINIUS Come, what talk you + Of Marcius? + +BRUTUS Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be + The Volsces dare break with us. + +MENENIUS Cannot be! + We have record that very well it can, + And three examples of the like have been + Within my age. But reason with the fellow, + Before you punish him, where he heard this, + Lest you shall chance to whip your information + And beat the messenger who bids beware + Of what is to be dreaded. + +SICINIUS Tell not me: + I know this cannot be. + +BRUTUS Not possible. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger The nobles in great earnestness are going + All to the senate-house: some news is come + That turns their countenances. + +SICINIUS 'Tis this slave;-- + Go whip him, 'fore the people's eyes:--his raising; + Nothing but his report. + +Messenger Yes, worthy sir, + The slave's report is seconded; and more, + More fearful, is deliver'd. + +SICINIUS What more fearful? + +Messenger It is spoke freely out of many mouths-- + How probable I do not know--that Marcius, + Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, + And vows revenge as spacious as between + The young'st and oldest thing. + +SICINIUS This is most likely! + +BRUTUS Raised only, that the weaker sort may wish + Good Marcius home again. + +SICINIUS The very trick on't. + +MENENIUS This is unlikely: + He and Aufidius can no more atone + Than violentest contrariety. + + [Enter a second Messenger] + +Second Messenger You are sent for to the senate: + A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius + Associated with Aufidius, rages + Upon our territories; and have already + O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and took + What lay before them. + + [Enter COMINIUS] + +COMINIUS O, you have made good work! + +MENENIUS What news? what news? + +COMINIUS You have holp to ravish your own daughters and + To melt the city leads upon your pates, + To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses,-- + +MENENIUS What's the news? what's the news? + +COMINIUS Your temples burned in their cement, and + Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined + Into an auger's bore. + +MENENIUS Pray now, your news? + You have made fair work, I fear me.--Pray, your news?-- + If Marcius should be join'd with Volscians,-- + +COMINIUS If! + He is their god: he leads them like a thing + Made by some other deity than nature, + That shapes man better; and they follow him, + Against us brats, with no less confidence + Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, + Or butchers killing flies. + +MENENIUS You have made good work, + You and your apron-men; you that stood so up much + on the voice of occupation and + The breath of garlic-eaters! + +COMINIUS He will shake + Your Rome about your ears. + +MENENIUS As Hercules + Did shake down mellow fruit. + You have made fair work! + +BRUTUS But is this true, sir? + +COMINIUS Ay; and you'll look pale + Before you find it other. All the regions + Do smilingly revolt; and who resist + Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, + And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? + Your enemies and his find something in him. + +MENENIUS We are all undone, unless + The noble man have mercy. + +COMINIUS Who shall ask it? + The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people + Deserve such pity of him as the wolf + Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if they + Should say 'Be good to Rome,' they charged him even + As those should do that had deserved his hate, + And therein show'd like enemies. + +MENENIUS 'Tis true: + If he were putting to my house the brand + That should consume it, I have not the face + To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands, + You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! + +COMINIUS You have brought + A trembling upon Rome, such as was never + So incapable of help. + +Both Tribunes Say not we brought it. + +MENENIUS How! Was it we? we loved him but, like beasts + And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, + Who did hoot him out o' the city. + +COMINIUS But I fear + They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, + The second name of men, obeys his points + As if he were his officer: desperation + Is all the policy, strength and defence, + That Rome can make against them. + + [Enter a troop of Citizens] + +MENENIUS Here come the clusters. + And is Aufidius with him? You are they + That made the air unwholesome, when you cast + Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at + Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming; + And not a hair upon a soldier's head + Which will not prove a whip: as many coxcombs + As you threw caps up will he tumble down, + And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; + if he could burn us all into one coal, + We have deserved it. + +Citizens Faith, we hear fearful news. + +First Citizen For mine own part, + When I said, banish him, I said 'twas pity. + +Second Citizen And so did I. + +Third Citizen And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very + many of us: that we did, we did for the best; and + though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet + it was against our will. + +COMINIUS Ye re goodly things, you voices! + +MENENIUS You have made + Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? + +COMINIUS O, ay, what else? + + [Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS] + +SICINIUS Go, masters, get you home; be not dismay'd: + These are a side that would be glad to have + This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, + And show no sign of fear. + +First Citizen The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. + I ever said we were i' the wrong when we banished + him. + +Second Citizen So did we all. But, come, let's home. + + [Exeunt Citizens] + +BRUTUS I do not like this news. + +SICINIUS Nor I. + +BRUTUS Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth + Would buy this for a lie! + +SICINIUS Pray, let us go. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII A camp, at a small distance from Rome. + + + [Enter AUFIDIUS and his Lieutenant] + +AUFIDIUS Do they still fly to the Roman? + +Lieutenant I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but + Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, + Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; + And you are darken'd in this action, sir, + Even by your own. + +AUFIDIUS I cannot help it now, + Unless, by using means, I lame the foot + Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, + Even to my person, than I thought he would + When first I did embrace him: yet his nature + In that's no changeling; and I must excuse + What cannot be amended. + +Lieutenant Yet I wish, sir,-- + I mean for your particular,--you had not + Join'd in commission with him; but either + Had borne the action of yourself, or else + To him had left it solely. + +AUFIDIUS I understand thee well; and be thou sure, + when he shall come to his account, he knows not + What I can urge against him. Although it seems, + And so he thinks, and is no less apparent + To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. + And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, + Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon + As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone + That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, + Whene'er we come to our account. + +Lieutenant Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? + +AUFIDIUS All places yield to him ere he sits down; + And the nobility of Rome are his: + The senators and patricians love him too: + The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people + Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty + To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome + As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it + By sovereignty of nature. First he was + A noble servant to them; but he could not + Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, + Which out of daily fortune ever taints + The happy man; whether defect of judgment, + To fail in the disposing of those chances + Which he was lord of; or whether nature, + Not to be other than one thing, not moving + From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace + Even with the same austerity and garb + As he controll'd the war; but one of these-- + As he hath spices of them all, not all, + For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd, + So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit, + To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues + Lie in the interpretation of the time: + And power, unto itself most commendable, + Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair + To extol what it hath done. + One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; + Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. + Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, + Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Rome. A public place. + + + [Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS, BRUTUS, + and others] + +MENENIUS No, I'll not go: you hear what he hath said + Which was sometime his general; who loved him + In a most dear particular. He call'd me father: + But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him; + A mile before his tent fall down, and knee + The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd + To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. + +COMINIUS He would not seem to know me. + +MENENIUS Do you hear? + +COMINIUS Yet one time he did call me by my name: + I urged our old acquaintance, and the drops + That we have bled together. Coriolanus + He would not answer to: forbad all names; + He was a kind of nothing, titleless, + Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire + Of burning Rome. + +MENENIUS Why, so: you have made good work! + A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, + To make coals cheap,--a noble memory! + +COMINIUS I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon + When it was less expected: he replied, + It was a bare petition of a state + To one whom they had punish'd. + +MENENIUS Very well: + Could he say less? + +COMINIUS I offer'd to awaken his regard + For's private friends: his answer to me was, + He could not stay to pick them in a pile + Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly, + For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, + And still to nose the offence. + +MENENIUS For one poor grain or two! + I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, + And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: + You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt + Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. + +SICINIUS Nay, pray, be patient: if you refuse your aid + In this so never-needed help, yet do not + Upbraid's with our distress. But, sure, if you + Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, + More than the instant army we can make, + Might stop our countryman. + +MENENIUS No, I'll not meddle. + +SICINIUS Pray you, go to him. + +MENENIUS What should I do? + +BRUTUS Only make trial what your love can do + For Rome, towards Marcius. + +MENENIUS Well, and say that Marcius + Return me, as Cominius is return'd, + Unheard; what then? + But as a discontented friend, grief-shot + With his unkindness? say't be so? + +SICINIUS Yet your good will + must have that thanks from Rome, after the measure + As you intended well. + +MENENIUS I'll undertake 't: + I think he'll hear me. Yet, to bite his lip + And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. + He was not taken well; he had not dined: + The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then + We pout upon the morning, are unapt + To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd + These and these conveyances of our blood + With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls + Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him + Till he be dieted to my request, + And then I'll set upon him. + +BRUTUS You know the very road into his kindness, + And cannot lose your way. + +MENENIUS Good faith, I'll prove him, + Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge + Of my success. + + [Exit] + +COMINIUS He'll never hear him. + +SICINIUS Not? + +COMINIUS I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye + Red as 'twould burn Rome; and his injury + The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; + 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise;' dismiss'd me + Thus, with his speechless hand: what he would do, + He sent in writing after me; what he would not, + Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions: + So that all hope is vain. + Unless his noble mother, and his wife; + Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him + For mercy to his country. Therefore, let's hence, + And with our fair entreaties haste them on. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Entrance of the Volscian camp before Rome. + Two Sentinels on guard. + + + [Enter to them, MENENIUS] + +First Senator Stay: whence are you? + +Second Senator Stand, and go back. + +MENENIUS You guard like men; 'tis well: but, by your leave, + I am an officer of state, and come + To speak with Coriolanus. + +First Senator From whence? + +MENENIUS From Rome. + +First Senator You may not pass, you must return: our general + Will no more hear from thence. + +Second Senator You'll see your Rome embraced with fire before + You'll speak with Coriolanus. + +MENENIUS Good my friends, + If you have heard your general talk of Rome, + And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks, + My name hath touch'd your ears it is Menenius. + +First Senator Be it so; go back: the virtue of your name + Is not here passable. + +MENENIUS I tell thee, fellow, + The general is my lover: I have been + The book of his good acts, whence men have read + His name unparallel'd, haply amplified; + For I have ever verified my friends, + Of whom he's chief, with all the size that verity + Would without lapsing suffer: nay, sometimes, + Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, + I have tumbled past the throw; and in his praise + Have almost stamp'd the leasing: therefore, fellow, + I must have leave to pass. + +First Senator Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his + behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you + should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous + to lie as to live chastely. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, + always factionary on the party of your general. + +Second Senator Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you + have, I am one that, telling true under him, must + say, you cannot pass. Therefore, go back. + +MENENIUS Has he dined, canst thou tell? for I would not + speak with him till after dinner. + +First Senator You are a Roman, are you? + +MENENIUS I am, as thy general is. + +First Senator Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, + when you have pushed out your gates the very + defender of them, and, in a violent popular + ignorance, given your enemy your shield, think to + front his revenges with the easy groans of old + women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with + the palsied intercession of such a decayed dotant as + you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the + intended fire your city is ready to flame in, with + such weak breath as this? No, you are deceived; + therefore, back to Rome, and prepare for your + execution: you are condemned, our general has sworn + you out of reprieve and pardon. + +MENENIUS Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would + use me with estimation. + +Second Senator Come, my captain knows you not. + +MENENIUS I mean, thy general. + +First Senator My general cares not for you. Back, I say, go; lest + I let forth your half-pint of blood; back,--that's + the utmost of your having: back. + +MENENIUS Nay, but, fellow, fellow,-- + + [Enter CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS] + +CORIOLANUS What's the matter? + +MENENIUS Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you: + You shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall + perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from + my son Coriolanus: guess, but by my entertainment + with him, if thou standest not i' the state of + hanging, or of some death more long in + spectatorship, and crueller in suffering; behold now + presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. + + [To CORIOLANUS] + + The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy + particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than + thy old father Menenius does! O my son, my son! + thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's + water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to + thee; but being assured none but myself could move + thee, I have been blown out of your gates with + sighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy + petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy + wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet + here,--this, who, like a block, hath denied my + access to thee. + +CORIOLANUS Away! + +MENENIUS How! away! + +CORIOLANUS Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs + Are servanted to others: though I owe + My revenge properly, my remission lies + In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, + Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather + Than pity note how much. Therefore, be gone. + Mine ears against your suits are stronger than + Your gates against my force. Yet, for I loved thee, + Take this along; I writ it for thy sake + + [Gives a letter] + + And would have rent it. Another word, Menenius, + I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, + Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st! + +AUFIDIUS You keep a constant temper. + + [Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS] + +First Senator Now, sir, is your name Menenius? + +Second Senator 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power: you know the + way home again. + +First Senator Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your + greatness back? + +Second Senator What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? + +MENENIUS I neither care for the world nor your general: for + such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, + ye're so slight. He that hath a will to die by + himself fears it not from another: let your general + do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and + your misery increase with your age! I say to you, + as I was said to, Away! + + [Exit] + +First Senator A noble fellow, I warrant him. + +Second Senator The worthy fellow is our general: he's the rock, the + oak not to be wind-shaken. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The tent of Coriolanus. + + + [Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others] + +CORIOLANUS We will before the walls of Rome tomorrow + Set down our host. My partner in this action, + You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly + I have borne this business. + +AUFIDIUS Only their ends + You have respected; stopp'd your ears against + The general suit of Rome; never admitted + A private whisper, no, not with such friends + That thought them sure of you. + +CORIOLANUS This last old man, + Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, + Loved me above the measure of a father; + Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge + Was to send him; for whose old love I have, + Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd + The first conditions, which they did refuse + And cannot now accept; to grace him only + That thought he could do more, a very little + I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, + Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter + Will I lend ear to. Ha! what shout is this? + + [Shout within] + + Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow + In the same time 'tis made? I will not. + + [Enter in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, + leading young MARCIUS, VALERIA, and Attendants] + + My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould + Wherein this trunk was framed, and in her hand + The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection! + All bond and privilege of nature, break! + Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. + What is that curt'sy worth? or those doves' eyes, + Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not + Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows; + As if Olympus to a molehill should + In supplication nod: and my young boy + Hath an aspect of intercession, which + Great nature cries 'Deny not.' let the Volsces + Plough Rome and harrow Italy: I'll never + Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, + As if a man were author of himself + And knew no other kin. + +VIRGILIA My lord and husband! + +CORIOLANUS These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. + +VIRGILIA The sorrow that delivers us thus changed + Makes you think so. + +CORIOLANUS Like a dull actor now, + I have forgot my part, and I am out, + Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, + Forgive my tyranny; but do not say + For that 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss + Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! + Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss + I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip + Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, + And the most noble mother of the world + Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth; + + [Kneels] + + Of thy deep duty more impression show + Than that of common sons. + +VOLUMNIA O, stand up blest! + Whilst, with no softer cushion than the flint, + I kneel before thee; and unproperly + Show duty, as mistaken all this while + Between the child and parent. + + [Kneels] + +CORIOLANUS What is this? + Your knees to me? to your corrected son? + Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach + Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds + Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; + Murdering impossibility, to make + What cannot be, slight work. + +VOLUMNIA Thou art my warrior; + I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? + +CORIOLANUS The noble sister of Publicola, + The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle + That's curdied by the frost from purest snow + And hangs on Dian's temple: dear Valeria! + +VOLUMNIA This is a poor epitome of yours, + Which by the interpretation of full time + May show like all yourself. + +CORIOLANUS The god of soldiers, + With the consent of supreme Jove, inform + Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove + To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars + Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, + And saving those that eye thee! + +VOLUMNIA Your knee, sirrah. + +CORIOLANUS That's my brave boy! + +VOLUMNIA Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, + Are suitors to you. + +CORIOLANUS I beseech you, peace: + Or, if you'ld ask, remember this before: + The thing I have forsworn to grant may never + Be held by you denials. Do not bid me + Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate + Again with Rome's mechanics: tell me not + Wherein I seem unnatural: desire not + To ally my rages and revenges with + Your colder reasons. + +VOLUMNIA O, no more, no more! + You have said you will not grant us any thing; + For we have nothing else to ask, but that + Which you deny already: yet we will ask; + That, if you fail in our request, the blame + May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear us. + +CORIOLANUS Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll + Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? + +VOLUMNIA Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment + And state of bodies would bewray what life + We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself + How more unfortunate than all living women + Are we come hither: since that thy sight, + which should + Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance + with comforts, + Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow; + Making the mother, wife and child to see + The son, the husband and the father tearing + His country's bowels out. And to poor we + Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us + Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort + That all but we enjoy; for how can we, + Alas, how can we for our country pray. + Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, + Whereto we are bound? alack, or we must lose + The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, + Our comfort in the country. We must find + An evident calamity, though we had + Our wish, which side should win: for either thou + Must, as a foreign recreant, be led + With manacles thorough our streets, or else + triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, + And bear the palm for having bravely shed + Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, + I purpose not to wait on fortune till + These wars determine: if I cannot persuade thee + Rather to show a noble grace to both parts + Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner + March to assault thy country than to tread-- + Trust to't, thou shalt not--on thy mother's womb, + That brought thee to this world. + +VIRGILIA Ay, and mine, + That brought you forth this boy, to keep your name + Living to time. + +Young MARCIUS A' shall not tread on me; + I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. + +CORIOLANUS Not of a woman's tenderness to be, + Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. + I have sat too long. + + [Rising] + +VOLUMNIA Nay, go not from us thus. + If it were so that our request did tend + To save the Romans, thereby to destroy + The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us, + As poisonous of your honour: no; our suit + Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces + May say 'This mercy we have show'd;' the Romans, + 'This we received;' and each in either side + Give the all-hail to thee and cry 'Be blest + For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, + The end of war's uncertain, but this certain, + That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit + Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, + Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; + Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, + But with his last attempt he wiped it out; + Destroy'd his country, and his name remains + To the ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son: + Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, + To imitate the graces of the gods; + To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' the air, + And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt + That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? + Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man + Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: + He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy: + Perhaps thy childishness will move him more + Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world + More bound to 's mother; yet here he lets me prate + Like one i' the stocks. Thou hast never in thy life + Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, + When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, + Has cluck'd thee to the wars and safely home, + Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, + And spurn me back: but if it be not so, + Thou art not honest; and the gods will plague thee, + That thou restrain'st from me the duty which + To a mother's part belongs. He turns away: + Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. + To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride + Than pity to our prayers. Down: an end; + This is the last: so we will home to Rome, + And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold 's: + This boy, that cannot tell what he would have + But kneels and holds up bands for fellowship, + Does reason our petition with more strength + Than thou hast to deny 't. Come, let us go: + This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; + His wife is in Corioli and his child + Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch: + I am hush'd until our city be a-fire, + And then I'll speak a little. + + [He holds her by the hand, silent] + +CORIOLANUS O mother, mother! + What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, + The gods look down, and this unnatural scene + They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! + You have won a happy victory to Rome; + But, for your son,--believe it, O, believe it, + Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, + If not most mortal to him. But, let it come. + Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, + I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, + Were you in my stead, would you have heard + A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? + +AUFIDIUS I was moved withal. + +CORIOLANUS I dare be sworn you were: + And, sir, it is no little thing to make + Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, + What peace you'll make, advise me: for my part, + I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you, + Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! + +AUFIDIUS [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and + thy honour + At difference in thee: out of that I'll work + Myself a former fortune. + + [The Ladies make signs to CORIOLANUS] + +CORIOLANUS Ay, by and by; + + [To VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, &c] + + But we will drink together; and you shall bear + A better witness back than words, which we, + On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. + Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve + To have a temple built you: all the swords + In Italy, and her confederate arms, + Could not have made this peace. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Rome. A public place. + + + [Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS] + +MENENIUS See you yond coign o' the Capitol, yond + corner-stone? + +SICINIUS Why, what of that? + +MENENIUS If it be possible for you to displace it with your + little finger, there is some hope the ladies of + Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. + But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are + sentenced and stay upon execution. + +SICINIUS Is't possible that so short a time can alter the + condition of a man! + +MENENIUS There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; + yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown + from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a + creeping thing. + +SICINIUS He loved his mother dearly. + +MENENIUS So did he me: and he no more remembers his mother + now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness + of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he + moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before + his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with + his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a + battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for + Alexander. What he bids be done is finished with + his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity + and a heaven to throne in. + +SICINIUS Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. + +MENENIUS I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his + mother shall bring from him: there is no more mercy + in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that + shall our poor city find: and all this is long of + you. + +SICINIUS The gods be good unto us! + +MENENIUS No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto + us. When we banished him, we respected not them; + and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Sir, if you'ld save your life, fly to your house: + The plebeians have got your fellow-tribune + And hale him up and down, all swearing, if + The Roman ladies bring not comfort home, + They'll give him death by inches. + + [Enter a second Messenger] + +SICINIUS What's the news? + +Second Messenger Good news, good news; the ladies have prevail'd, + The Volscians are dislodged, and Marcius gone: + A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, + No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. + +SICINIUS Friend, + Art thou certain this is true? is it most certain? + +Second Messenger As certain as I know the sun is fire: + Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? + Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, + As the recomforted through the gates. Why, hark you! + + [Trumpets; hautboys; drums beat; all together] + + The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries and fifes, + Tabours and cymbals and the shouting Romans, + Make the sun dance. Hark you! + + [A shout within] + +MENENIUS This is good news: + I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia + Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, + A city full; of tribunes, such as you, + A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: + This morning for ten thousand of your throats + I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! + + [Music still, with shouts] + +SICINIUS First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, + Accept my thankfulness. + +Second Messenger Sir, we have all + Great cause to give great thanks. + +SICINIUS They are near the city? + +Second Messenger Almost at point to enter. + +SICINIUS We will meet them, + And help the joy. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V The same. A street near the gate. + + + [Enter two Senators with VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, + VALERIA, &c. passing over the stage, + followed by Patricians and others] + +First Senator Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! + Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, + And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them: + Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, + Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; + Cry 'Welcome, ladies, welcome!' + +All Welcome, ladies, Welcome! + + [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt] + + + + + CORIOLANUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI Antium. A public place. + + + [Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS, with Attendants] + +AUFIDIUS Go tell the lords o' the city I am here: + Deliver them this paper: having read it, + Bid them repair to the market place; where I, + Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, + Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse + The city ports by this hath enter'd and + Intends to appear before the people, hoping + To purge herself with words: dispatch. + + [Exeunt Attendants] + + [Enter three or four Conspirators of AUFIDIUS' faction] + + Most welcome! + +First Conspirator How is it with our general? + +AUFIDIUS Even so + As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, + And with his charity slain. + +Second Conspirator Most noble sir, + If you do hold the same intent wherein + You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you + Of your great danger. + +AUFIDIUS Sir, I cannot tell: + We must proceed as we do find the people. + +Third Conspirator The people will remain uncertain whilst + 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either + Makes the survivor heir of all. + +AUFIDIUS I know it; + And my pretext to strike at him admits + A good construction. I raised him, and I pawn'd + Mine honour for his truth: who being so heighten'd, + He water'd his new plants with dews of flattery, + Seducing so my friends; and, to this end, + He bow'd his nature, never known before + But to be rough, unswayable and free. + +Third Conspirator Sir, his stoutness + When he did stand for consul, which he lost + By lack of stooping,-- + +AUFIDIUS That I would have spoke of: + Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth; + Presented to my knife his throat: I took him; + Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way + In all his own desires; nay, let him choose + Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, + My best and freshest men; served his designments + In mine own person; holp to reap the fame + Which he did end all his; and took some pride + To do myself this wrong: till, at the last, + I seem'd his follower, not partner, and + He waged me with his countenance, as if + I had been mercenary. + +First Conspirator So he did, my lord: + The army marvell'd at it, and, in the last, + When he had carried Rome and that we look'd + For no less spoil than glory,-- + +AUFIDIUS There was it: + For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. + At a few drops of women's rheum, which are + As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour + Of our great action: therefore shall he die, + And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! + + [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of + the People] + +First Conspirator Your native town you enter'd like a post, + And had no welcomes home: but he returns, + Splitting the air with noise. + +Second Conspirator And patient fools, + Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear + With giving him glory. + +Third Conspirator Therefore, at your vantage, + Ere he express himself, or move the people + With what he would say, let him feel your sword, + Which we will second. When he lies along, + After your way his tale pronounced shall bury + His reasons with his body. + +AUFIDIUS Say no more: + Here come the lords. + + [Enter the Lords of the city] + +All The Lords You are most welcome home. + +AUFIDIUS I have not deserved it. + But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused + What I have written to you? + +Lords We have. + +First Lord And grieve to hear't. + What faults he made before the last, I think + Might have found easy fines: but there to end + Where he was to begin and give away + The benefit of our levies, answering us + With our own charge, making a treaty where + There was a yielding,--this admits no excuse. + +AUFIDIUS He approaches: you shall hear him. + + [Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and + colours; commoners being with him] + +CORIOLANUS Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier, + No more infected with my country's love + Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting + Under your great command. You are to know + That prosperously I have attempted and + With bloody passage led your wars even to + The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home + Do more than counterpoise a full third part + The charges of the action. We have made peace + With no less honour to the Antiates + Than shame to the Romans: and we here deliver, + Subscribed by the consuls and patricians, + Together with the seal o' the senate, what + We have compounded on. + +AUFIDIUS Read it not, noble lords; + But tell the traitor, in the high'st degree + He hath abused your powers. + +CORIOLANUS Traitor! how now! + +AUFIDIUS Ay, traitor, Marcius! + +CORIOLANUS Marcius! + +AUFIDIUS Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: dost thou think + I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name + Coriolanus in Corioli? + You lords and heads o' the state, perfidiously + He has betray'd your business, and given up, + For certain drops of salt, your city Rome, + I say 'your city,' to his wife and mother; + Breaking his oath and resolution like + A twist of rotten silk, never admitting + Counsel o' the war, but at his nurse's tears + He whined and roar'd away your victory, + That pages blush'd at him and men of heart + Look'd wondering each at other. + +CORIOLANUS Hear'st thou, Mars? + +AUFIDIUS Name not the god, thou boy of tears! + +CORIOLANUS Ha! + +AUFIDIUS No more. + +CORIOLANUS Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart + Too great for what contains it. Boy! O slave! + Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever + I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, + Must give this cur the lie: and his own notion-- + Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him; that + Must bear my beating to his grave--shall join + To thrust the lie unto him. + +First Lord Peace, both, and hear me speak. + +CORIOLANUS Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, + Stain all your edges on me. Boy! false hound! + If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, + That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I + Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli: + Alone I did it. Boy! + +AUFIDIUS Why, noble lords, + Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, + Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, + 'Fore your own eyes and ears? + +All Conspirators Let him die for't. + +All The People 'Tear him to pieces.' 'Do it presently.' 'He kill'd + my son.' 'My daughter.' 'He killed my cousin + Marcus.' 'He killed my father.' + +Second Lord Peace, ho! no outrage: peace! + The man is noble and his fame folds-in + This orb o' the earth. His last offences to us + Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, + And trouble not the peace. + +CORIOLANUS O that I had him, + With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, + To use my lawful sword! + +AUFIDIUS Insolent villain! + +All Conspirators Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! + + [The Conspirators draw, and kill CORIOLANUS: + AUFIDIUS stands on his body] + +Lords Hold, hold, hold, hold! + +AUFIDIUS My noble masters, hear me speak. + +First Lord O Tullus,-- + +Second Lord Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. + +Third Lord Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; + Put up your swords. + +AUFIDIUS My lords, when you shall know--as in this rage, + Provoked by him, you cannot--the great danger + Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice + That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours + To call me to your senate, I'll deliver + Myself your loyal servant, or endure + Your heaviest censure. + +First Lord Bear from hence his body; + And mourn you for him: let him be regarded + As the most noble corse that ever herald + Did follow to his urn. + +Second Lord His own impatience + Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. + Let's make the best of it. + +AUFIDIUS My rage is gone; + And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. + Help, three o' the chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. + Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully: + Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he + Hath widow'd and unchilded many a one, + Which to this hour bewail the injury, + Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. + + [Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS. A dead + march sounded] + HAMLET + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +CLAUDIUS king of Denmark. (KING CLAUDIUS:) + +HAMLET son to the late, and nephew to the present king. + +POLONIUS lord chamberlain. (LORD POLONIUS:) + +HORATIO friend to Hamlet. + +LAERTES son to Polonius. + +LUCIANUS nephew to the king. + + +VOLTIMAND | + | +CORNELIUS | + | +ROSENCRANTZ | courtiers. + | +GUILDENSTERN | + | +OSRIC | + + + A Gentleman, (Gentlemen:) + + A Priest. (First Priest:) + + +MARCELLUS | + | officers. +BERNARDO | + + +FRANCISCO a soldier. + +REYNALDO servant to Polonius. + Players. + (First Player:) + (Player King:) + (Player Queen:) + + Two Clowns, grave-diggers. + (First Clown:) + (Second Clown:) + +FORTINBRAS prince of Norway. (PRINCE FORTINBRAS:) + + A Captain. + + English Ambassadors. (First Ambassador:) + +GERTRUDE queen of Denmark, and mother to Hamlet. + (QUEEN GERTRUDE:) + +OPHELIA daughter to Polonius. + + Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Sailors, Messengers, + and other Attendants. (Lord:) + (First Sailor:) + (Messenger:) + + Ghost of Hamlet's Father. (Ghost:) + + + +SCENE Denmark. + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Elsinore. A platform before the castle. + + + [FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO] + +BERNARDO Who's there? + +FRANCISCO Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. + +BERNARDO Long live the king! + +FRANCISCO Bernardo? + +BERNARDO He. + +FRANCISCO You come most carefully upon your hour. + +BERNARDO 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. + +FRANCISCO For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, + And I am sick at heart. + +BERNARDO Have you had quiet guard? + +FRANCISCO Not a mouse stirring. + +BERNARDO Well, good night. + If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, + The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. + +FRANCISCO I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there? + + [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS] + +HORATIO Friends to this ground. + +MARCELLUS And liegemen to the Dane. + +FRANCISCO Give you good night. + +MARCELLUS O, farewell, honest soldier: + Who hath relieved you? + +FRANCISCO Bernardo has my place. + Give you good night. + + [Exit] + +MARCELLUS Holla! Bernardo! + +BERNARDO Say, + What, is Horatio there? + +HORATIO A piece of him. + +BERNARDO Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus. + +MARCELLUS What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? + +BERNARDO I have seen nothing. + +MARCELLUS Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, + And will not let belief take hold of him + Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us: + Therefore I have entreated him along + With us to watch the minutes of this night; + That if again this apparition come, + He may approve our eyes and speak to it. + +HORATIO Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. + +BERNARDO Sit down awhile; + And let us once again assail your ears, + That are so fortified against our story + What we have two nights seen. + +HORATIO Well, sit we down, + And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. + +BERNARDO Last night of all, + When yond same star that's westward from the pole + Had made his course to illume that part of heaven + Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, + The bell then beating one,-- + + [Enter Ghost] + +MARCELLUS Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! + +BERNARDO In the same figure, like the king that's dead. + +MARCELLUS Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. + +BERNARDO Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. + +HORATIO Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder. + +BERNARDO It would be spoke to. + +MARCELLUS Question it, Horatio. + +HORATIO What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, + Together with that fair and warlike form + In which the majesty of buried Denmark + Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak! + +MARCELLUS It is offended. + +BERNARDO See, it stalks away! + +HORATIO Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! + + [Exit Ghost] + +MARCELLUS 'Tis gone, and will not answer. + +BERNARDO How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale: + Is not this something more than fantasy? + What think you on't? + +HORATIO Before my God, I might not this believe + Without the sensible and true avouch + Of mine own eyes. + +MARCELLUS Is it not like the king? + +HORATIO As thou art to thyself: + Such was the very armour he had on + When he the ambitious Norway combated; + So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, + He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. + 'Tis strange. + +MARCELLUS Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, + With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. + +HORATIO In what particular thought to work I know not; + But in the gross and scope of my opinion, + This bodes some strange eruption to our state. + +MARCELLUS Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, + Why this same strict and most observant watch + So nightly toils the subject of the land, + And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, + And foreign mart for implements of war; + Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task + Does not divide the Sunday from the week; + What might be toward, that this sweaty haste + Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day: + Who is't that can inform me? + +HORATIO That can I; + At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, + Whose image even but now appear'd to us, + Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, + Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, + Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet-- + For so this side of our known world esteem'd him-- + Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact, + Well ratified by law and heraldry, + Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands + Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror: + Against the which, a moiety competent + Was gaged by our king; which had return'd + To the inheritance of Fortinbras, + Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant, + And carriage of the article design'd, + His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, + Of unimproved mettle hot and full, + Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there + Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, + For food and diet, to some enterprise + That hath a stomach in't; which is no other-- + As it doth well appear unto our state-- + But to recover of us, by strong hand + And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands + So by his father lost: and this, I take it, + Is the main motive of our preparations, + The source of this our watch and the chief head + Of this post-haste and romage in the land. + +BERNARDO I think it be no other but e'en so: + Well may it sort that this portentous figure + Comes armed through our watch; so like the king + That was and is the question of these wars. + +HORATIO A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. + In the most high and palmy state of Rome, + A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, + The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead + Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: + As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, + Disasters in the sun; and the moist star + Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands + Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse: + And even the like precurse of fierce events, + As harbingers preceding still the fates + And prologue to the omen coming on, + Have heaven and earth together demonstrated + Unto our climatures and countrymen.-- + But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! + + [Re-enter Ghost] + + I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion! + If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, + Speak to me: + If there be any good thing to be done, + That may to thee do ease and grace to me, + Speak to me: + + [Cock crows] + + If thou art privy to thy country's fate, + Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak! + Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life + Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, + For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, + Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus. + +MARCELLUS Shall I strike at it with my partisan? + +HORATIO Do, if it will not stand. + +BERNARDO 'Tis here! + +HORATIO 'Tis here! + +MARCELLUS 'Tis gone! + + [Exit Ghost] + + We do it wrong, being so majestical, + To offer it the show of violence; + For it is, as the air, invulnerable, + And our vain blows malicious mockery. + +BERNARDO It was about to speak, when the cock crew. + +HORATIO And then it started like a guilty thing + Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, + The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, + Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat + Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, + Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, + The extravagant and erring spirit hies + To his confine: and of the truth herein + This present object made probation. + +MARCELLUS It faded on the crowing of the cock. + Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes + Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, + The bird of dawning singeth all night long: + And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; + The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, + No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, + So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. + +HORATIO So have I heard and do in part believe it. + But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, + Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill: + Break we our watch up; and by my advice, + Let us impart what we have seen to-night + Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, + This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. + Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, + As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? + +MARCELLUS Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know + Where we shall find him most conveniently. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A room of state in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, + POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, + and Attendants] + +KING CLAUDIUS Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death + The memory be green, and that it us befitted + To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom + To be contracted in one brow of woe, + Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature + That we with wisest sorrow think on him, + Together with remembrance of ourselves. + Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, + The imperial jointress to this warlike state, + Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,-- + With an auspicious and a dropping eye, + With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, + In equal scale weighing delight and dole,-- + Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd + Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone + With this affair along. For all, our thanks. + Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, + Holding a weak supposal of our worth, + Or thinking by our late dear brother's death + Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, + Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, + He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, + Importing the surrender of those lands + Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, + To our most valiant brother. So much for him. + Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: + Thus much the business is: we have here writ + To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-- + Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears + Of this his nephew's purpose,--to suppress + His further gait herein; in that the levies, + The lists and full proportions, are all made + Out of his subject: and we here dispatch + You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, + For bearers of this greeting to old Norway; + Giving to you no further personal power + To business with the king, more than the scope + Of these delated articles allow. + Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. + + +CORNELIUS | + | In that and all things will we show our duty. +VOLTIMAND | + + +KING CLAUDIUS We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. + + [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] + + And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? + You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes? + You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, + And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes, + That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? + The head is not more native to the heart, + The hand more instrumental to the mouth, + Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. + What wouldst thou have, Laertes? + +LAERTES My dread lord, + Your leave and favour to return to France; + From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, + To show my duty in your coronation, + Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, + My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France + And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. + +KING CLAUDIUS Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? + +LORD POLONIUS He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave + By laboursome petition, and at last + Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: + I do beseech you, give him leave to go. + +KING CLAUDIUS Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, + And thy best graces spend it at thy will! + But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-- + +HAMLET [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. + +KING CLAUDIUS How is it that the clouds still hang on you? + +HAMLET Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, + And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. + Do not for ever with thy vailed lids + Seek for thy noble father in the dust: + Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, + Passing through nature to eternity. + +HAMLET Ay, madam, it is common. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE If it be, + Why seems it so particular with thee? + +HAMLET Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.' + 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, + Nor customary suits of solemn black, + Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, + No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, + Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, + Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, + That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, + For they are actions that a man might play: + But I have that within which passeth show; + These but the trappings and the suits of woe. + +KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, + To give these mourning duties to your father: + But, you must know, your father lost a father; + That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound + In filial obligation for some term + To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever + In obstinate condolement is a course + Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief; + It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, + A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, + An understanding simple and unschool'd: + For what we know must be and is as common + As any the most vulgar thing to sense, + Why should we in our peevish opposition + Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, + A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, + To reason most absurd: whose common theme + Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, + From the first corse till he that died to-day, + 'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth + This unprevailing woe, and think of us + As of a father: for let the world take note, + You are the most immediate to our throne; + And with no less nobility of love + Than that which dearest father bears his son, + Do I impart toward you. For your intent + In going back to school in Wittenberg, + It is most retrograde to our desire: + And we beseech you, bend you to remain + Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, + Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: + I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. + +HAMLET I shall in all my best obey you, madam. + +KING CLAUDIUS Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: + Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; + This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet + Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, + No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, + But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, + And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again, + Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. + + [Exeunt all but HAMLET] + +HAMLET O, that this too too solid flesh would melt + Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! + Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd + His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! + How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, + Seem to me all the uses of this world! + Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, + That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature + Possess it merely. That it should come to this! + But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: + So excellent a king; that was, to this, + Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother + That he might not beteem the winds of heaven + Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! + Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, + As if increase of appetite had grown + By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-- + Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!-- + A little month, or ere those shoes were old + With which she follow'd my poor father's body, + Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she-- + O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, + Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, + My father's brother, but no more like my father + Than I to Hercules: within a month: + Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears + Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, + She married. O, most wicked speed, to post + With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! + It is not nor it cannot come to good: + But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue. + + [Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO] + +HORATIO Hail to your lordship! + +HAMLET I am glad to see you well: + Horatio,--or I do forget myself. + +HORATIO The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. + +HAMLET Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: + And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus? + +MARCELLUS My good lord-- + +HAMLET I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. + But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? + +HORATIO A truant disposition, good my lord. + +HAMLET I would not hear your enemy say so, + Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, + To make it truster of your own report + Against yourself: I know you are no truant. + But what is your affair in Elsinore? + We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. + +HORATIO My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. + +HAMLET I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; + I think it was to see my mother's wedding. + +HORATIO Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. + +HAMLET Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats + Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. + Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven + Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! + My father!--methinks I see my father. + +HORATIO Where, my lord? + +HAMLET In my mind's eye, Horatio. + +HORATIO I saw him once; he was a goodly king. + +HAMLET He was a man, take him for all in all, + I shall not look upon his like again. + +HORATIO My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. + +HAMLET Saw? who? + +HORATIO My lord, the king your father. + +HAMLET The king my father! + +HORATIO Season your admiration for awhile + With an attent ear, till I may deliver, + Upon the witness of these gentlemen, + This marvel to you. + +HAMLET For God's love, let me hear. + +HORATIO Two nights together had these gentlemen, + Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, + In the dead vast and middle of the night, + Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, + Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, + Appears before them, and with solemn march + Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd + By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, + Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled + Almost to jelly with the act of fear, + Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me + In dreadful secrecy impart they did; + And I with them the third night kept the watch; + Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, + Form of the thing, each word made true and good, + The apparition comes: I knew your father; + These hands are not more like. + +HAMLET But where was this? + +MARCELLUS My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. + +HAMLET Did you not speak to it? + +HORATIO My lord, I did; + But answer made it none: yet once methought + It lifted up its head and did address + Itself to motion, like as it would speak; + But even then the morning cock crew loud, + And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, + And vanish'd from our sight. + +HAMLET 'Tis very strange. + +HORATIO As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; + And we did think it writ down in our duty + To let you know of it. + +HAMLET Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. + Hold you the watch to-night? + + +MARCELLUS | + | We do, my lord. +BERNARDO | + + +HAMLET Arm'd, say you? + + +MARCELLUS | + | Arm'd, my lord. +BERNARDO | + + +HAMLET From top to toe? + + +MARCELLUS | + | My lord, from head to foot. +BERNARDO | + + +HAMLET Then saw you not his face? + +HORATIO O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. + +HAMLET What, look'd he frowningly? + +HORATIO A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. + +HAMLET Pale or red? + +HORATIO Nay, very pale. + +HAMLET And fix'd his eyes upon you? + +HORATIO Most constantly. + +HAMLET I would I had been there. + +HORATIO It would have much amazed you. + +HAMLET Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? + +HORATIO While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. + + +MARCELLUS | + | Longer, longer. +BERNARDO | + + +HORATIO Not when I saw't. + +HAMLET His beard was grizzled--no? + +HORATIO It was, as I have seen it in his life, + A sable silver'd. + +HAMLET I will watch to-night; + Perchance 'twill walk again. + +HORATIO I warrant it will. + +HAMLET If it assume my noble father's person, + I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape + And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, + If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, + Let it be tenable in your silence still; + And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, + Give it an understanding, but no tongue: + I will requite your loves. So, fare you well: + Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, + I'll visit you. + +All Our duty to your honour. + +HAMLET Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. + + [Exeunt all but HAMLET] + + My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; + I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! + Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. + + [Exit] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in Polonius' house. + + + [Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA] + +LAERTES My necessaries are embark'd: farewell: + And, sister, as the winds give benefit + And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, + But let me hear from you. + +OPHELIA Do you doubt that? + +LAERTES For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour, + Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, + A violet in the youth of primy nature, + Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, + The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more. + +OPHELIA No more but so? + +LAERTES Think it no more; + For nature, crescent, does not grow alone + In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, + The inward service of the mind and soul + Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, + And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch + The virtue of his will: but you must fear, + His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; + For he himself is subject to his birth: + He may not, as unvalued persons do, + Carve for himself; for on his choice depends + The safety and health of this whole state; + And therefore must his choice be circumscribed + Unto the voice and yielding of that body + Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, + It fits your wisdom so far to believe it + As he in his particular act and place + May give his saying deed; which is no further + Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. + Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, + If with too credent ear you list his songs, + Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open + To his unmaster'd importunity. + Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, + And keep you in the rear of your affection, + Out of the shot and danger of desire. + The chariest maid is prodigal enough, + If she unmask her beauty to the moon: + Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: + The canker galls the infants of the spring, + Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, + And in the morn and liquid dew of youth + Contagious blastments are most imminent. + Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: + Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. + +OPHELIA I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, + As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, + Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, + Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; + Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, + Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, + And recks not his own rede. + +LAERTES O, fear me not. + I stay too long: but here my father comes. + + [Enter POLONIUS] + + A double blessing is a double grace, + Occasion smiles upon a second leave. + +LORD POLONIUS Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! + The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, + And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee! + And these few precepts in thy memory + See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act. + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, + Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, + Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. + Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; + For the apparel oft proclaims the man, + And they in France of the best rank and station + Are of a most select and generous chief in that. + Neither a borrower nor a lender be; + For loan oft loses both itself and friend, + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all: to thine ownself be true, + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! + +LAERTES Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS The time invites you; go; your servants tend. + +LAERTES Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well + What I have said to you. + +OPHELIA 'Tis in my memory lock'd, + And you yourself shall keep the key of it. + +LAERTES Farewell. + + [Exit] + +LORD POLONIUS What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you? + +OPHELIA So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. + +LORD POLONIUS Marry, well bethought: + 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late + Given private time to you; and you yourself + Have of your audience been most free and bounteous: + If it be so, as so 'tis put on me, + And that in way of caution, I must tell you, + You do not understand yourself so clearly + As it behoves my daughter and your honour. + What is between you? give me up the truth. + +OPHELIA He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders + Of his affection to me. + +LORD POLONIUS Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, + Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. + Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? + +OPHELIA I do not know, my lord, what I should think. + +LORD POLONIUS Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; + That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, + Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; + Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, + Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool. + +OPHELIA My lord, he hath importuned me with love + In honourable fashion. + +LORD POLONIUS Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. + +OPHELIA And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, + With almost all the holy vows of heaven. + +LORD POLONIUS Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, + When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul + Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, + Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, + Even in their promise, as it is a-making, + You must not take for fire. From this time + Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; + Set your entreatments at a higher rate + Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, + Believe so much in him, that he is young + And with a larger tether may he walk + Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia, + Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, + Not of that dye which their investments show, + But mere implorators of unholy suits, + Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, + The better to beguile. This is for all: + I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, + Have you so slander any moment leisure, + As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. + Look to't, I charge you: come your ways. + +OPHELIA I shall obey, my lord. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV The platform. + + + [Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS] + +HAMLET The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. + +HORATIO It is a nipping and an eager air. + +HAMLET What hour now? + +HORATIO I think it lacks of twelve. + +HAMLET No, it is struck. + +HORATIO Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season + Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. + + [A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within] + + What does this mean, my lord? + +HAMLET The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, + Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; + And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, + The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out + The triumph of his pledge. + +HORATIO Is it a custom? + +HAMLET Ay, marry, is't: + But to my mind, though I am native here + And to the manner born, it is a custom + More honour'd in the breach than the observance. + This heavy-headed revel east and west + Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations: + They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase + Soil our addition; and indeed it takes + From our achievements, though perform'd at height, + The pith and marrow of our attribute. + So, oft it chances in particular men, + That for some vicious mole of nature in them, + As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty, + Since nature cannot choose his origin-- + By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, + Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, + Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens + The form of plausive manners, that these men, + Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, + Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-- + Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace, + As infinite as man may undergo-- + Shall in the general censure take corruption + From that particular fault: the dram of eale + Doth all the noble substance of a doubt + To his own scandal. + +HORATIO Look, my lord, it comes! + + [Enter Ghost] + +HAMLET Angels and ministers of grace defend us! + Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, + Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, + Be thy intents wicked or charitable, + Thou comest in such a questionable shape + That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, + King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! + Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell + Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, + Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, + Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, + Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, + To cast thee up again. What may this mean, + That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel + Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, + Making night hideous; and we fools of nature + So horridly to shake our disposition + With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? + Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? + + [Ghost beckons HAMLET] + +HORATIO It beckons you to go away with it, + As if it some impartment did desire + To you alone. + +MARCELLUS Look, with what courteous action + It waves you to a more removed ground: + But do not go with it. + +HORATIO No, by no means. + +HAMLET It will not speak; then I will follow it. + +HORATIO Do not, my lord. + +HAMLET Why, what should be the fear? + I do not set my life in a pin's fee; + And for my soul, what can it do to that, + Being a thing immortal as itself? + It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. + +HORATIO What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, + Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff + That beetles o'er his base into the sea, + And there assume some other horrible form, + Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason + And draw you into madness? think of it: + The very place puts toys of desperation, + Without more motive, into every brain + That looks so many fathoms to the sea + And hears it roar beneath. + +HAMLET It waves me still. + Go on; I'll follow thee. + +MARCELLUS You shall not go, my lord. + +HAMLET Hold off your hands. + +HORATIO Be ruled; you shall not go. + +HAMLET My fate cries out, + And makes each petty artery in this body + As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. + Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. + By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! + I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. + + [Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET] + +HORATIO He waxes desperate with imagination. + +MARCELLUS Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. + +HORATIO Have after. To what issue will this come? + +MARCELLUS Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. + +HORATIO Heaven will direct it. + +MARCELLUS Nay, let's follow him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Another part of the platform. + + + [Enter GHOST and HAMLET] + +HAMLET Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further. + +Ghost Mark me. + +HAMLET I will. + +Ghost My hour is almost come, + When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames + Must render up myself. + +HAMLET Alas, poor ghost! + +Ghost Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing + To what I shall unfold. + +HAMLET Speak; I am bound to hear. + +Ghost So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. + +HAMLET What? + +Ghost I am thy father's spirit, + Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, + And for the day confined to fast in fires, + Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature + Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid + To tell the secrets of my prison-house, + I could a tale unfold whose lightest word + Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, + Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, + Thy knotted and combined locks to part + And each particular hair to stand on end, + Like quills upon the fretful porpentine: + But this eternal blazon must not be + To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! + If thou didst ever thy dear father love-- + +HAMLET O God! + +Ghost Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. + +HAMLET Murder! + +Ghost Murder most foul, as in the best it is; + But this most foul, strange and unnatural. + +HAMLET Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift + As meditation or the thoughts of love, + May sweep to my revenge. + +Ghost I find thee apt; + And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed + That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, + Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: + 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, + A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark + Is by a forged process of my death + Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, + The serpent that did sting thy father's life + Now wears his crown. + +HAMLET O my prophetic soul! My uncle! + +Ghost Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, + With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,-- + O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power + So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust + The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen: + O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! + From me, whose love was of that dignity + That it went hand in hand even with the vow + I made to her in marriage, and to decline + Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor + To those of mine! + But virtue, as it never will be moved, + Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, + So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, + Will sate itself in a celestial bed, + And prey on garbage. + But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; + Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, + My custom always of the afternoon, + Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, + With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, + And in the porches of my ears did pour + The leperous distilment; whose effect + Holds such an enmity with blood of man + That swift as quicksilver it courses through + The natural gates and alleys of the body, + And with a sudden vigour doth posset + And curd, like eager droppings into milk, + The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; + And a most instant tetter bark'd about, + Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, + All my smooth body. + Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand + Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd: + Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, + Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, + No reckoning made, but sent to my account + With all my imperfections on my head: + O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! + If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; + Let not the royal bed of Denmark be + A couch for luxury and damned incest. + But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, + Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive + Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven + And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, + To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! + The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, + And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire: + Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me. + + [Exit] + +HAMLET O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else? + And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart; + And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, + But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee! + Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat + In this distracted globe. Remember thee! + Yea, from the table of my memory + I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, + All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, + That youth and observation copied there; + And thy commandment all alone shall live + Within the book and volume of my brain, + Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven! + O most pernicious woman! + O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! + My tables,--meet it is I set it down, + That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; + At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark: + + [Writing] + + So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; + It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.' + I have sworn 't. + + +MARCELLUS | + | [Within] My lord, my lord,-- +HORATIO | + + +MARCELLUS [Within] Lord Hamlet,-- + +HORATIO [Within] Heaven secure him! + +HAMLET So be it! + +HORATIO [Within] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord! + +HAMLET Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come. + + [Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS] + +MARCELLUS How is't, my noble lord? + +HORATIO What news, my lord? + +HAMLET O, wonderful! + +HORATIO Good my lord, tell it. + +HAMLET No; you'll reveal it. + +HORATIO Not I, my lord, by heaven. + +MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord. + +HAMLET How say you, then; would heart of man once think it? + But you'll be secret? + + +HORATIO | + | Ay, by heaven, my lord. +MARCELLUS | + + +HAMLET There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark + But he's an arrant knave. + +HORATIO There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave + To tell us this. + +HAMLET Why, right; you are i' the right; + And so, without more circumstance at all, + I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: + You, as your business and desire shall point you; + For every man has business and desire, + Such as it is; and for mine own poor part, + Look you, I'll go pray. + +HORATIO These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. + +HAMLET I'm sorry they offend you, heartily; + Yes, 'faith heartily. + +HORATIO There's no offence, my lord. + +HAMLET Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, + And much offence too. Touching this vision here, + It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you: + For your desire to know what is between us, + O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends, + As you are friends, scholars and soldiers, + Give me one poor request. + +HORATIO What is't, my lord? we will. + +HAMLET Never make known what you have seen to-night. + + +HORATIO | + | My lord, we will not. +MARCELLUS | + + +HAMLET Nay, but swear't. + +HORATIO In faith, + My lord, not I. + +MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord, in faith. + +HAMLET Upon my sword. + +MARCELLUS We have sworn, my lord, already. + +HAMLET Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. + +Ghost [Beneath] Swear. + +HAMLET Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, + truepenny? + Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage-- + Consent to swear. + +HORATIO Propose the oath, my lord. + +HAMLET Never to speak of this that you have seen, + Swear by my sword. + +Ghost [Beneath] Swear. + +HAMLET Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground. + Come hither, gentlemen, + And lay your hands again upon my sword: + Never to speak of this that you have heard, + Swear by my sword. + +Ghost [Beneath] Swear. + +HAMLET Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast? + A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends. + +HORATIO O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! + +HAMLET And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. + There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, + Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come; + Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, + How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, + As I perchance hereafter shall think meet + To put an antic disposition on, + That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, + With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake, + Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, + As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' + Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' + Or such ambiguous giving out, to note + That you know aught of me: this not to do, + So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear. + +Ghost [Beneath] Swear. + +HAMLET Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! + + [They swear] + + So, gentlemen, + With all my love I do commend me to you: + And what so poor a man as Hamlet is + May do, to express his love and friending to you, + God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; + And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. + The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, + That ever I was born to set it right! + Nay, come, let's go together. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A room in POLONIUS' house. + + + [Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO] + +LORD POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. + +REYNALDO I will, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo, + Before you visit him, to make inquire + Of his behavior. + +REYNALDO My lord, I did intend it. + +LORD POLONIUS Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir, + Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; + And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, + What company, at what expense; and finding + By this encompassment and drift of question + That they do know my son, come you more nearer + Than your particular demands will touch it: + Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; + As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, + And in part him: ' do you mark this, Reynaldo? + +REYNALDO Ay, very well, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS 'And in part him; but' you may say 'not well: + But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; + Addicted so and so:' and there put on him + What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank + As may dishonour him; take heed of that; + But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips + As are companions noted and most known + To youth and liberty. + +REYNALDO As gaming, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, + Drabbing: you may go so far. + +REYNALDO My lord, that would dishonour him. + +LORD POLONIUS 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge + You must not put another scandal on him, + That he is open to incontinency; + That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly + That they may seem the taints of liberty, + The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, + A savageness in unreclaimed blood, + Of general assault. + +REYNALDO But, my good lord,-- + +LORD POLONIUS Wherefore should you do this? + +REYNALDO Ay, my lord, + I would know that. + +LORD POLONIUS Marry, sir, here's my drift; + And I believe, it is a fetch of wit: + You laying these slight sullies on my son, + As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you, + Your party in converse, him you would sound, + Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes + The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured + He closes with you in this consequence; + 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman,' + According to the phrase or the addition + Of man and country. + +REYNALDO Very good, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I + about to say? By the mass, I was about to say + something: where did I leave? + +REYNALDO At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' + and 'gentleman.' + +LORD POLONIUS At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry; + He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman; + I saw him yesterday, or t' other day, + Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say, + There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; + There falling out at tennis:' or perchance, + 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' + Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. + See you now; + Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth: + And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, + With windlasses and with assays of bias, + By indirections find directions out: + So by my former lecture and advice, + Shall you my son. You have me, have you not? + +REYNALDO My lord, I have. + +LORD POLONIUS God be wi' you; fare you well. + +REYNALDO Good my lord! + +LORD POLONIUS Observe his inclination in yourself. + +REYNALDO I shall, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS And let him ply his music. + +REYNALDO Well, my lord. + +LORD POLONIUS Farewell! + + [Exit REYNALDO] + + [Enter OPHELIA] + + How now, Ophelia! what's the matter? + +OPHELIA O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! + +LORD POLONIUS With what, i' the name of God? + +OPHELIA My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, + Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced; + No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, + Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; + Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; + And with a look so piteous in purport + As if he had been loosed out of hell + To speak of horrors,--he comes before me. + +LORD POLONIUS Mad for thy love? + +OPHELIA My lord, I do not know; + But truly, I do fear it. + +LORD POLONIUS What said he? + +OPHELIA He took me by the wrist and held me hard; + Then goes he to the length of all his arm; + And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, + He falls to such perusal of my face + As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so; + At last, a little shaking of mine arm + And thrice his head thus waving up and down, + He raised a sigh so piteous and profound + As it did seem to shatter all his bulk + And end his being: that done, he lets me go: + And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, + He seem'd to find his way without his eyes; + For out o' doors he went without their helps, + And, to the last, bended their light on me. + +LORD POLONIUS Come, go with me: I will go seek the king. + This is the very ecstasy of love, + Whose violent property fordoes itself + And leads the will to desperate undertakings + As oft as any passion under heaven + That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. + What, have you given him any hard words of late? + +OPHELIA No, my good lord, but, as you did command, + I did repel his fetters and denied + His access to me. + +LORD POLONIUS That hath made him mad. + I am sorry that with better heed and judgment + I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle, + And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy! + By heaven, it is as proper to our age + To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions + As it is common for the younger sort + To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king: + This must be known; which, being kept close, might + move + More grief to hide than hate to utter love. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, + GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants] + +KING CLAUDIUS Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! + Moreover that we much did long to see you, + The need we have to use you did provoke + Our hasty sending. Something have you heard + Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it, + Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man + Resembles that it was. What it should be, + More than his father's death, that thus hath put him + So much from the understanding of himself, + I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, + That, being of so young days brought up with him, + And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior, + That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court + Some little time: so by your companies + To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, + So much as from occasion you may glean, + Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus, + That, open'd, lies within our remedy. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you; + And sure I am two men there are not living + To whom he more adheres. If it will please you + To show us so much gentry and good will + As to expend your time with us awhile, + For the supply and profit of our hope, + Your visitation shall receive such thanks + As fits a king's remembrance. + +ROSENCRANTZ Both your majesties + Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, + Put your dread pleasures more into command + Than to entreaty. + +GUILDENSTERN But we both obey, + And here give up ourselves, in the full bent + To lay our service freely at your feet, + To be commanded. + +KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz: + And I beseech you instantly to visit + My too much changed son. Go, some of you, + And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. + +GUILDENSTERN Heavens make our presence and our practises + Pleasant and helpful to him! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay, amen! + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some + Attendants] + + [Enter POLONIUS] + +LORD POLONIUS The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, + Are joyfully return'd. + +KING CLAUDIUS Thou still hast been the father of good news. + +LORD POLONIUS Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege, + I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, + Both to my God and to my gracious king: + And I do think, or else this brain of mine + Hunts not the trail of policy so sure + As it hath used to do, that I have found + The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. + +KING CLAUDIUS O, speak of that; that do I long to hear. + +LORD POLONIUS Give first admittance to the ambassadors; + My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. + +KING CLAUDIUS Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. + + [Exit POLONIUS] + + He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found + The head and source of all your son's distemper. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE I doubt it is no other but the main; + His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. + +KING CLAUDIUS Well, we shall sift him. + + [Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] + + Welcome, my good friends! + Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? + +VOLTIMAND Most fair return of greetings and desires. + Upon our first, he sent out to suppress + His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd + To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack; + But, better look'd into, he truly found + It was against your highness: whereat grieved, + That so his sickness, age and impotence + Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests + On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; + Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine + Makes vow before his uncle never more + To give the assay of arms against your majesty. + Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, + Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee, + And his commission to employ those soldiers, + So levied as before, against the Polack: + With an entreaty, herein further shown, + + [Giving a paper] + + That it might please you to give quiet pass + Through your dominions for this enterprise, + On such regards of safety and allowance + As therein are set down. + +KING CLAUDIUS It likes us well; + And at our more consider'd time well read, + Answer, and think upon this business. + Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour: + Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: + Most welcome home! + + [Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS] + +LORD POLONIUS This business is well ended. + My liege, and madam, to expostulate + What majesty should be, what duty is, + Why day is day, night night, and time is time, + Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. + Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, + And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, + I will be brief: your noble son is mad: + Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, + What is't but to be nothing else but mad? + But let that go. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE More matter, with less art. + +LORD POLONIUS Madam, I swear I use no art at all. + That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; + And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure; + But farewell it, for I will use no art. + Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains + That we find out the cause of this effect, + Or rather say, the cause of this defect, + For this effect defective comes by cause: + Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. + I have a daughter--have while she is mine-- + Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, + Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise. + + [Reads] + + 'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most + beautified Ophelia,'-- + That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is + a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus: + + [Reads] + + 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Came this from Hamlet to her? + +LORD POLONIUS Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. + + [Reads] + + 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love. + 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; + I have not art to reckon my groans: but that + I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. + 'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst + this machine is to him, HAMLET.' + This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me, + And more above, hath his solicitings, + As they fell out by time, by means and place, + All given to mine ear. + +KING CLAUDIUS But how hath she + Received his love? + +LORD POLONIUS What do you think of me? + +KING CLAUDIUS As of a man faithful and honourable. + +LORD POLONIUS I would fain prove so. But what might you think, + When I had seen this hot love on the wing-- + As I perceived it, I must tell you that, + Before my daughter told me--what might you, + Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, + If I had play'd the desk or table-book, + Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, + Or look'd upon this love with idle sight; + What might you think? No, I went round to work, + And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: + 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star; + This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her, + That she should lock herself from his resort, + Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. + Which done, she took the fruits of my advice; + And he, repulsed--a short tale to make-- + Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, + Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, + Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, + Into the madness wherein now he raves, + And all we mourn for. + +KING CLAUDIUS Do you think 'tis this? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE It may be, very likely. + +LORD POLONIUS Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that-- + That I have positively said 'Tis so,' + When it proved otherwise? + +KING CLAUDIUS Not that I know. + +LORD POLONIUS [Pointing to his head and shoulder] + + Take this from this, if this be otherwise: + If circumstances lead me, I will find + Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed + Within the centre. + +KING CLAUDIUS How may we try it further? + +LORD POLONIUS You know, sometimes he walks four hours together + Here in the lobby. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE So he does indeed. + +LORD POLONIUS At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: + Be you and I behind an arras then; + Mark the encounter: if he love her not + And be not from his reason fall'n thereon, + Let me be no assistant for a state, + But keep a farm and carters. + +KING CLAUDIUS We will try it. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. + +LORD POLONIUS Away, I do beseech you, both away: + I'll board him presently. + + [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and + Attendants] + + [Enter HAMLET, reading] + + O, give me leave: + How does my good Lord Hamlet? + +HAMLET Well, God-a-mercy. + +LORD POLONIUS Do you know me, my lord? + +HAMLET Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. + +LORD POLONIUS Not I, my lord. + +HAMLET Then I would you were so honest a man. + +LORD POLONIUS Honest, my lord! + +HAMLET Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + +LORD POLONIUS That's very true, my lord. + +HAMLET For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a + god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter? + +LORD POLONIUS I have, my lord. + +HAMLET Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a + blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. + Friend, look to 't. + +LORD POLONIUS [Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my + daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I + was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and + truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for + love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. + What do you read, my lord? + +HAMLET Words, words, words. + +LORD POLONIUS What is the matter, my lord? + +HAMLET Between who? + +LORD POLONIUS I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. + +HAMLET Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here + that old men have grey beards, that their faces are + wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and + plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of + wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, + though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet + I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for + yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab + you could go backward. + +LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method + in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord? + +HAMLET Into my grave. + +LORD POLONIUS Indeed, that is out o' the air. + + [Aside] + + How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness + that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity + could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will + leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of + meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable + lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you. + +HAMLET You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will + more willingly part withal: except my life, except + my life, except my life. + +LORD POLONIUS Fare you well, my lord. + +HAMLET These tedious old fools! + + [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + +LORD POLONIUS You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is. + +ROSENCRANTZ [To POLONIUS] God save you, sir! + + [Exit POLONIUS] + +GUILDENSTERN My honoured lord! + +ROSENCRANTZ My most dear lord! + +HAMLET My excellent good friends! How dost thou, + Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? + +ROSENCRANTZ As the indifferent children of the earth. + +GUILDENSTERN Happy, in that we are not over-happy; + On fortune's cap we are not the very button. + +HAMLET Nor the soles of her shoe? + +ROSENCRANTZ Neither, my lord. + +HAMLET Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of + her favours? + +GUILDENSTERN 'Faith, her privates we. + +HAMLET In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she + is a strumpet. What's the news? + +ROSENCRANTZ None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. + +HAMLET Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true. + Let me question more in particular: what have you, + my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, + that she sends you to prison hither? + +GUILDENSTERN Prison, my lord! + +HAMLET Denmark's a prison. + +ROSENCRANTZ Then is the world one. + +HAMLET A goodly one; in which there are many confines, + wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst. + +ROSENCRANTZ We think not so, my lord. + +HAMLET Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing + either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me + it is a prison. + +ROSENCRANTZ Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too + narrow for your mind. + +HAMLET O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count + myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I + have bad dreams. + +GUILDENSTERN Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very + substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. + +HAMLET A dream itself is but a shadow. + +ROSENCRANTZ Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a + quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. + +HAMLET Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and + outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we + to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. + + +ROSENCRANTZ | + | We'll wait upon you. +GUILDENSTERN | + + +HAMLET No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest + of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest + man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the + beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? + +ROSENCRANTZ To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. + +HAMLET Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I + thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are + too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it + your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, + deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. + +GUILDENSTERN What should we say, my lord? + +HAMLET Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent + for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks + which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: + I know the good king and queen have sent for you. + +ROSENCRANTZ To what end, my lord? + +HAMLET That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by + the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of + our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved + love, and by what more dear a better proposer could + charge you withal, be even and direct with me, + whether you were sent for, or no? + +ROSENCRANTZ [Aside to GUILDENSTERN] What say you? + +HAMLET [Aside] Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you + love me, hold not off. + +GUILDENSTERN My lord, we were sent for. + +HAMLET I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation + prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king + and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but + wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all + custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily + with my disposition that this goodly frame, the + earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most + excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave + o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted + with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to + me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. + What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! + how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how + express and admirable! in action how like an angel! + in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the + world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, + what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not + me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling + you seem to say so. + +ROSENCRANTZ My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. + +HAMLET Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'? + +ROSENCRANTZ To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what + lenten entertainment the players shall receive from + you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they + coming, to offer you service. + +HAMLET He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty + shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight + shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not + sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part + in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose + lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall + say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt + for't. What players are they? + +ROSENCRANTZ Even those you were wont to take delight in, the + tragedians of the city. + +HAMLET How chances it they travel? their residence, both + in reputation and profit, was better both ways. + +ROSENCRANTZ I think their inhibition comes by the means of the + late innovation. + +HAMLET Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was + in the city? are they so followed? + +ROSENCRANTZ No, indeed, are they not. + +HAMLET How comes it? do they grow rusty? + +ROSENCRANTZ Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but + there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, + that cry out on the top of question, and are most + tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the + fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they + call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of + goose-quills and dare scarce come thither. + +HAMLET What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are + they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no + longer than they can sing? will they not say + afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common + players--as it is most like, if their means are no + better--their writers do them wrong, to make them + exclaim against their own succession? + +ROSENCRANTZ 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and + the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to + controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid + for argument, unless the poet and the player went to + cuffs in the question. + +HAMLET Is't possible? + +GUILDENSTERN O, there has been much throwing about of brains. + +HAMLET Do the boys carry it away? + +ROSENCRANTZ Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. + +HAMLET It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of + Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while + my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an + hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. + 'Sblood, there is something in this more than + natural, if philosophy could find it out. + + [Flourish of trumpets within] + +GUILDENSTERN There are the players. + +HAMLET Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, + come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion + and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb, + lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, + must show fairly outward, should more appear like + entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my + uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived. + +GUILDENSTERN In what, my dear lord? + +HAMLET I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is + southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw. + + [Enter POLONIUS] + +LORD POLONIUS Well be with you, gentlemen! + +HAMLET Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a + hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet + out of his swaddling-clouts. + +ROSENCRANTZ Happily he's the second time come to them; for they + say an old man is twice a child. + +HAMLET I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; + mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; + 'twas so indeed. + +LORD POLONIUS My lord, I have news to tell you. + +HAMLET My lord, I have news to tell you. + When Roscius was an actor in Rome,-- + +LORD POLONIUS The actors are come hither, my lord. + +HAMLET Buz, buz! + +LORD POLONIUS Upon mine honour,-- + +HAMLET Then came each actor on his ass,-- + +LORD POLONIUS The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, + comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, + historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical- + comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or + poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor + Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the + liberty, these are the only men. + +HAMLET O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! + +LORD POLONIUS What a treasure had he, my lord? + +HAMLET Why, + 'One fair daughter and no more, + The which he loved passing well.' + +LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Still on my daughter. + +HAMLET Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah? + +LORD POLONIUS If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter + that I love passing well. + +HAMLET Nay, that follows not. + +LORD POLONIUS What follows, then, my lord? + +HAMLET Why, + 'As by lot, God wot,' + and then, you know, + 'It came to pass, as most like it was,'-- + the first row of the pious chanson will show you + more; for look, where my abridgement comes. + + [Enter four or five Players] + + You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad + to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old + friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last: + comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young + lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is + nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the + altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like + apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the + ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en + to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: + we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste + of your quality; come, a passionate speech. + +First Player What speech, my lord? + +HAMLET I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was + never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the + play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas + caviare to the general: but it was--as I received + it, and others, whose judgments in such matters + cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well + digested in the scenes, set down with as much + modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there + were no sallets in the lines to make the matter + savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might + indict the author of affectation; but called it an + honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very + much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I + chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and + thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of + Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin + at this line: let me see, let me see-- + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'-- + it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:-- + 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, + Black as his purpose, did the night resemble + When he lay couched in the ominous horse, + Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd + With heraldry more dismal; head to foot + Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd + With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, + Baked and impasted with the parching streets, + That lend a tyrannous and damned light + To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire, + And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, + With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus + Old grandsire Priam seeks.' + So, proceed you. + +LORD POLONIUS 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and + good discretion. + +First Player 'Anon he finds him + Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, + Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, + Repugnant to command: unequal match'd, + Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide; + But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword + The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, + Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top + Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash + Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword, + Which was declining on the milky head + Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick: + So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, + And like a neutral to his will and matter, + Did nothing. + But, as we often see, against some storm, + A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, + The bold winds speechless and the orb below + As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder + Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause, + Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work; + And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall + On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne + With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword + Now falls on Priam. + Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, + In general synod 'take away her power; + Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, + And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, + As low as to the fiends!' + +LORD POLONIUS This is too long. + +HAMLET It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee, + say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he + sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba. + +First Player 'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--' + +HAMLET 'The mobled queen?' + +LORD POLONIUS That's good; 'mobled queen' is good. + +First Player 'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames + With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head + Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, + About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins, + A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up; + Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, + 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have + pronounced: + But if the gods themselves did see her then + When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport + In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, + The instant burst of clamour that she made, + Unless things mortal move them not at all, + Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, + And passion in the gods.' + +LORD POLONIUS Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has + tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more. + +HAMLET 'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon. + Good my lord, will you see the players well + bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for + they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the + time: after your death you were better have a bad + epitaph than their ill report while you live. + +LORD POLONIUS My lord, I will use them according to their desert. + +HAMLET God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man + after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? + Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less + they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. + Take them in. + +LORD POLONIUS Come, sirs. + +HAMLET Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow. + + [Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First] + + Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the + Murder of Gonzago? + +First Player Ay, my lord. + +HAMLET We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, + study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which + I would set down and insert in't, could you not? + +First Player Ay, my lord. + +HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him + not. + + [Exit First Player] + + My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are + welcome to Elsinore. + +ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord! + +HAMLET Ay, so, God be wi' ye; + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + Now I am alone. + O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! + Is it not monstrous that this player here, + But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, + Could force his soul so to his own conceit + That from her working all his visage wann'd, + Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, + A broken voice, and his whole function suiting + With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! + For Hecuba! + What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, + That he should weep for her? What would he do, + Had he the motive and the cue for passion + That I have? He would drown the stage with tears + And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, + Make mad the guilty and appal the free, + Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed + The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, + A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, + Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, + And can say nothing; no, not for a king, + Upon whose property and most dear life + A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? + Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? + Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? + Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, + As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? + Ha! + 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be + But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall + To make oppression bitter, or ere this + I should have fatted all the region kites + With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! + Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! + O, vengeance! + Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, + That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, + Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, + Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, + And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, + A scullion! + Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard + That guilty creatures sitting at a play + Have by the very cunning of the scene + Been struck so to the soul that presently + They have proclaim'd their malefactions; + For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak + With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players + Play something like the murder of my father + Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; + I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, + I know my course. The spirit that I have seen + May be the devil: and the devil hath power + To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps + Out of my weakness and my melancholy, + As he is very potent with such spirits, + Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds + More relative than this: the play 's the thing + Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. + + [Exit] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, + OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] + +KING CLAUDIUS And can you, by no drift of circumstance, + Get from him why he puts on this confusion, + Grating so harshly all his days of quiet + With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? + +ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted; + But from what cause he will by no means speak. + +GUILDENSTERN Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, + But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, + When we would bring him on to some confession + Of his true state. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Did he receive you well? + +ROSENCRANTZ Most like a gentleman. + +GUILDENSTERN But with much forcing of his disposition. + +ROSENCRANTZ Niggard of question; but, of our demands, + Most free in his reply. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Did you assay him? + To any pastime? + +ROSENCRANTZ Madam, it so fell out, that certain players + We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; + And there did seem in him a kind of joy + To hear of it: they are about the court, + And, as I think, they have already order + This night to play before him. + +LORD POLONIUS 'Tis most true: + And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties + To hear and see the matter. + +KING CLAUDIUS With all my heart; and it doth much content me + To hear him so inclined. + Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, + And drive his purpose on to these delights. + +ROSENCRANTZ We shall, my lord. + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + +KING CLAUDIUS Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; + For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, + That he, as 'twere by accident, may here + Affront Ophelia: + Her father and myself, lawful espials, + Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, + We may of their encounter frankly judge, + And gather by him, as he is behaved, + If 't be the affliction of his love or no + That thus he suffers for. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE I shall obey you. + And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish + That your good beauties be the happy cause + Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues + Will bring him to his wonted way again, + To both your honours. + +OPHELIA Madam, I wish it may. + + [Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE] + +LORD POLONIUS Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you, + We will bestow ourselves. + + [To OPHELIA] + + Read on this book; + That show of such an exercise may colour + Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,-- + 'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage + And pious action we do sugar o'er + The devil himself. + +KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] O, 'tis too true! + How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! + The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, + Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it + Than is my deed to my most painted word: + O heavy burthen! + +LORD POLONIUS I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. + + [Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS] + + [Enter HAMLET] + +HAMLET To be, or not to be: that is the question: + Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer + The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, + Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, + And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; + No more; and by a sleep to say we end + The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks + That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation + Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; + To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; + For in that sleep of death what dreams may come + When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, + Must give us pause: there's the respect + That makes calamity of so long life; + For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, + The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, + The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, + The insolence of office and the spurns + That patient merit of the unworthy takes, + When he himself might his quietus make + With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, + To grunt and sweat under a weary life, + But that the dread of something after death, + The undiscover'd country from whose bourn + No traveller returns, puzzles the will + And makes us rather bear those ills we have + Than fly to others that we know not of? + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, + And enterprises of great pith and moment + With this regard their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! + The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons + Be all my sins remember'd. + +OPHELIA Good my lord, + How does your honour for this many a day? + +HAMLET I humbly thank you; well, well, well. + +OPHELIA My lord, I have remembrances of yours, + That I have longed long to re-deliver; + I pray you, now receive them. + +HAMLET No, not I; + I never gave you aught. + +OPHELIA My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; + And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed + As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, + Take these again; for to the noble mind + Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. + There, my lord. + +HAMLET Ha, ha! are you honest? + +OPHELIA My lord? + +HAMLET Are you fair? + +OPHELIA What means your lordship? + +HAMLET That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should + admit no discourse to your beauty. + +OPHELIA Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than + with honesty? + +HAMLET Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner + transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the + force of honesty can translate beauty into his + likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the + time gives it proof. I did love you once. + +OPHELIA Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. + +HAMLET You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot + so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of + it: I loved you not. + +OPHELIA I was the more deceived. + +HAMLET Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a + breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; + but yet I could accuse me of such things that it + were better my mother had not borne me: I am very + proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at + my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, + imagination to give them shape, or time to act them + in. What should such fellows as I do crawling + between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, + all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. + Where's your father? + +OPHELIA At home, my lord. + +HAMLET Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the + fool no where but in's own house. Farewell. + +OPHELIA O, help him, you sweet heavens! + +HAMLET If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for + thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as + snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a + nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs + marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough + what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, + and quickly too. Farewell. + +OPHELIA O heavenly powers, restore him! + +HAMLET I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God + has given you one face, and you make yourselves + another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and + nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness + your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath + made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: + those that are married already, all but one, shall + live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a + nunnery, go. + + [Exit] + +OPHELIA O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! + The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; + The expectancy and rose of the fair state, + The glass of fashion and the mould of form, + The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! + And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, + That suck'd the honey of his music vows, + Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, + Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; + That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth + Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, + To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! + + [Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS] + +KING CLAUDIUS Love! his affections do not that way tend; + Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, + Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, + O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; + And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose + Will be some danger: which for to prevent, + I have in quick determination + Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England, + For the demand of our neglected tribute + Haply the seas and countries different + With variable objects shall expel + This something-settled matter in his heart, + Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus + From fashion of himself. What think you on't? + +LORD POLONIUS It shall do well: but yet do I believe + The origin and commencement of his grief + Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia! + You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; + We heard it all. My lord, do as you please; + But, if you hold it fit, after the play + Let his queen mother all alone entreat him + To show his grief: let her be round with him; + And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear + Of all their conference. If she find him not, + To England send him, or confine him where + Your wisdom best shall think. + +KING CLAUDIUS It shall be so: + Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A hall in the castle. + + + [Enter HAMLET and Players] + +HAMLET Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to + you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, + as many of your players do, I had as lief the + town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air + too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; + for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, + the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget + a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it + offends me to the soul to hear a robustious + periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to + very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who + for the most part are capable of nothing but + inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such + a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it + out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. + +First Player I warrant your honour. + +HAMLET Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion + be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the + word to the action; with this special o'erstep not + the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is + from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the + first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the + mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, + scorn her own image, and the very age and body of + the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, + or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful + laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the + censure of the which one must in your allowance + o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be + players that I have seen play, and heard others + praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, + that, neither having the accent of Christians nor + the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so + strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of + nature's journeymen had made men and not made them + well, they imitated humanity so abominably. + +First Player I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, + sir. + +HAMLET O, reform it altogether. And let those that play + your clowns speak no more than is set down for them; + for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to + set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh + too; though, in the mean time, some necessary + question of the play be then to be considered: + that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition + in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. + + [Exeunt Players] + + [Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] + + How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work? + +LORD POLONIUS And the queen too, and that presently. + +HAMLET Bid the players make haste. + + [Exit POLONIUS] + + Will you two help to hasten them? + + +ROSENCRANTZ | + | We will, my lord. +GUILDENSTERN | + + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + +HAMLET What ho! Horatio! + + [Enter HORATIO] + +HORATIO Here, sweet lord, at your service. + +HAMLET Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man + As e'er my conversation coped withal. + +HORATIO O, my dear lord,-- + +HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter; + For what advancement may I hope from thee + That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, + To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? + No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, + And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee + Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? + Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice + And could of men distinguish, her election + Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been + As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, + A man that fortune's buffets and rewards + Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those + Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, + That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger + To sound what stop she please. Give me that man + That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him + In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, + As I do thee.--Something too much of this.-- + There is a play to-night before the king; + One scene of it comes near the circumstance + Which I have told thee of my father's death: + I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, + Even with the very comment of thy soul + Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt + Do not itself unkennel in one speech, + It is a damned ghost that we have seen, + And my imaginations are as foul + As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; + For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, + And after we will both our judgments join + In censure of his seeming. + +HORATIO Well, my lord: + If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, + And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. + +HAMLET They are coming to the play; I must be idle: + Get you a place. + + [Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, + QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, + GUILDENSTERN, and others] + +KING CLAUDIUS How fares our cousin Hamlet? + +HAMLET Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat + the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so. + +KING CLAUDIUS I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words + are not mine. + +HAMLET No, nor mine now. + + [To POLONIUS] + + My lord, you played once i' the university, you say? + +LORD POLONIUS That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor. + +HAMLET What did you enact? + +LORD POLONIUS I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the + Capitol; Brutus killed me. + +HAMLET It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf + there. Be the players ready? + +ROSENCRANTZ Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. + +HAMLET No, good mother, here's metal more attractive. + +LORD POLONIUS [To KING CLAUDIUS] O, ho! do you mark that? + +HAMLET Lady, shall I lie in your lap? + + [Lying down at OPHELIA's feet] + +OPHELIA No, my lord. + +HAMLET I mean, my head upon your lap? + +OPHELIA Ay, my lord. + +HAMLET Do you think I meant country matters? + +OPHELIA I think nothing, my lord. + +HAMLET That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. + +OPHELIA What is, my lord? + +HAMLET Nothing. + +OPHELIA You are merry, my lord. + +HAMLET Who, I? + +OPHELIA Ay, my lord. + +HAMLET O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do + but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my + mother looks, and my father died within these two hours. + +OPHELIA Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. + +HAMLET So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for + I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two + months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's + hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half + a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches, + then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with + the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O, + the hobby-horse is forgot.' + + [Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters] + + [Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen + embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes + show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, + and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down + upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep, + leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his + crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's + ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King + dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, + with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, + seeming to lament with her. The dead body is + carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with + gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but + in the end accepts his love] + + [Exeunt] + +OPHELIA What means this, my lord? + +HAMLET Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief. + +OPHELIA Belike this show imports the argument of the play. + + [Enter Prologue] + +HAMLET We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot + keep counsel; they'll tell all. + +OPHELIA Will he tell us what this show meant? + +HAMLET Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you + ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. + +OPHELIA You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play. + +Prologue For us, and for our tragedy, + Here stooping to your clemency, + We beg your hearing patiently. + + [Exit] + +HAMLET Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? + +OPHELIA 'Tis brief, my lord. + +HAMLET As woman's love. + + [Enter two Players, King and Queen] + +Player King Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round + Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, + And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen + About the world have times twelve thirties been, + Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands + Unite commutual in most sacred bands. + +Player Queen So many journeys may the sun and moon + Make us again count o'er ere love be done! + But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, + So far from cheer and from your former state, + That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, + Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must: + For women's fear and love holds quantity; + In neither aught, or in extremity. + Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; + And as my love is sized, my fear is so: + Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; + Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. + +Player King 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; + My operant powers their functions leave to do: + And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, + Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind + For husband shalt thou-- + +Player Queen O, confound the rest! + Such love must needs be treason in my breast: + In second husband let me be accurst! + None wed the second but who kill'd the first. + +HAMLET [Aside] Wormwood, wormwood. + +Player Queen The instances that second marriage move + Are base respects of thrift, but none of love: + A second time I kill my husband dead, + When second husband kisses me in bed. + +Player King I do believe you think what now you speak; + But what we do determine oft we break. + Purpose is but the slave to memory, + Of violent birth, but poor validity; + Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree; + But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. + Most necessary 'tis that we forget + To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt: + What to ourselves in passion we propose, + The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. + The violence of either grief or joy + Their own enactures with themselves destroy: + Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; + Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. + This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange + That even our loves should with our fortunes change; + For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, + Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. + The great man down, you mark his favourite flies; + The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. + And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; + For who not needs shall never lack a friend, + And who in want a hollow friend doth try, + Directly seasons him his enemy. + But, orderly to end where I begun, + Our wills and fates do so contrary run + That our devices still are overthrown; + Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own: + So think thou wilt no second husband wed; + But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. + +Player Queen Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light! + Sport and repose lock from me day and night! + To desperation turn my trust and hope! + An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope! + Each opposite that blanks the face of joy + Meet what I would have well and it destroy! + Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, + If, once a widow, ever I be wife! + +HAMLET If she should break it now! + +Player King 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; + My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile + The tedious day with sleep. + + [Sleeps] + +Player Queen Sleep rock thy brain, + And never come mischance between us twain! + + [Exit] + +HAMLET Madam, how like you this play? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE The lady protests too much, methinks. + +HAMLET O, but she'll keep her word. + +KING CLAUDIUS Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't? + +HAMLET No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence + i' the world. + +KING CLAUDIUS What do you call the play? + +HAMLET The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play + is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is + the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see + anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o' + that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it + touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our + withers are unwrung. + + [Enter LUCIANUS] + + This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. + +OPHELIA You are as good as a chorus, my lord. + +HAMLET I could interpret between you and your love, if I + could see the puppets dallying. + +OPHELIA You are keen, my lord, you are keen. + +HAMLET It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. + +OPHELIA Still better, and worse. + +HAMLET So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer; + pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come: + 'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.' + +LUCIANUS Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; + Confederate season, else no creature seeing; + Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, + With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, + Thy natural magic and dire property, + On wholesome life usurp immediately. + + [Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears] + +HAMLET He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His + name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in + choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer + gets the love of Gonzago's wife. + +OPHELIA The king rises. + +HAMLET What, frighted with false fire! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE How fares my lord? + +LORD POLONIUS Give o'er the play. + +KING CLAUDIUS Give me some light: away! + +All Lights, lights, lights! + + [Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO] + +HAMLET Why, let the stricken deer go weep, + The hart ungalled play; + For some must watch, while some must sleep: + So runs the world away. + Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if + the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two + Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a + fellowship in a cry of players, sir? + +HORATIO Half a share. + +HAMLET A whole one, I. + For thou dost know, O Damon dear, + This realm dismantled was + Of Jove himself; and now reigns here + A very, very--pajock. + +HORATIO You might have rhymed. + +HAMLET O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a + thousand pound. Didst perceive? + +HORATIO Very well, my lord. + +HAMLET Upon the talk of the poisoning? + +HORATIO I did very well note him. + +HAMLET Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders! + For if the king like not the comedy, + Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. + Come, some music! + + [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + +GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. + +HAMLET Sir, a whole history. + +GUILDENSTERN The king, sir,-- + +HAMLET Ay, sir, what of him? + +GUILDENSTERN Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. + +HAMLET With drink, sir? + +GUILDENSTERN No, my lord, rather with choler. + +HAMLET Your wisdom should show itself more richer to + signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him + to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far + more choler. + +GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and + start not so wildly from my affair. + +HAMLET I am tame, sir: pronounce. + +GUILDENSTERN The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of + spirit, hath sent me to you. + +HAMLET You are welcome. + +GUILDENSTERN Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right + breed. If it shall please you to make me a + wholesome answer, I will do your mother's + commandment: if not, your pardon and my return + shall be the end of my business. + +HAMLET Sir, I cannot. + +GUILDENSTERN What, my lord? + +HAMLET Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but, + sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; + or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no + more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,-- + +ROSENCRANTZ Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her + into amazement and admiration. + +HAMLET O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But + is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's + admiration? Impart. + +ROSENCRANTZ She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you + go to bed. + +HAMLET We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have + you any further trade with us? + +ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you once did love me. + +HAMLET So I do still, by these pickers and stealers. + +ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you + do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if + you deny your griefs to your friend. + +HAMLET Sir, I lack advancement. + +ROSENCRANTZ How can that be, when you have the voice of the king + himself for your succession in Denmark? + +HAMLET Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb + is something musty. + + [Re-enter Players with recorders] + + O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with + you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me, + as if you would drive me into a toil? + +GUILDENSTERN O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too + unmannerly. + +HAMLET I do not well understand that. Will you play upon + this pipe? + +GUILDENSTERN My lord, I cannot. + +HAMLET I pray you. + +GUILDENSTERN Believe me, I cannot. + +HAMLET I do beseech you. + +GUILDENSTERN I know no touch of it, my lord. + +HAMLET 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with + your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your + mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. + Look you, these are the stops. + +GUILDENSTERN But these cannot I command to any utterance of + harmony; I have not the skill. + +HAMLET Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of + me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know + my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my + mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to + the top of my compass: and there is much music, + excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot + you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am + easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what + instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you + cannot play upon me. + + [Enter POLONIUS] + + God bless you, sir! + +LORD POLONIUS My lord, the queen would speak with you, and + presently. + +HAMLET Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? + +LORD POLONIUS By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. + +HAMLET Methinks it is like a weasel. + +LORD POLONIUS It is backed like a weasel. + +HAMLET Or like a whale? + +LORD POLONIUS Very like a whale. + +HAMLET Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool + me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by. + +LORD POLONIUS I will say so. + +HAMLET By and by is easily said. + + [Exit POLONIUS] + + Leave me, friends. + + [Exeunt all but HAMLET] + + Tis now the very witching time of night, + When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out + Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood, + And do such bitter business as the day + Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother. + O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever + The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: + Let me be cruel, not unnatural: + I will speak daggers to her, but use none; + My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites; + How in my words soever she be shent, + To give them seals never, my soul, consent! + + [Exit] + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN] + +KING CLAUDIUS I like him not, nor stands it safe with us + To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; + I your commission will forthwith dispatch, + And he to England shall along with you: + The terms of our estate may not endure + Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow + Out of his lunacies. + +GUILDENSTERN We will ourselves provide: + Most holy and religious fear it is + To keep those many many bodies safe + That live and feed upon your majesty. + +ROSENCRANTZ The single and peculiar life is bound, + With all the strength and armour of the mind, + To keep itself from noyance; but much more + That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest + The lives of many. The cease of majesty + Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw + What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel, + Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, + To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things + Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls, + Each small annexment, petty consequence, + Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone + Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. + +KING CLAUDIUS Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; + For we will fetters put upon this fear, + Which now goes too free-footed. + + +ROSENCRANTZ | + | We will haste us. +GUILDENSTERN | + + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + [Enter POLONIUS] + +LORD POLONIUS My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: + Behind the arras I'll convey myself, + To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home: + And, as you said, and wisely was it said, + 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, + Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear + The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege: + I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, + And tell you what I know. + +KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, dear my lord. + + [Exit POLONIUS] + + O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven; + It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, + A brother's murder. Pray can I not, + Though inclination be as sharp as will: + My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; + And, like a man to double business bound, + I stand in pause where I shall first begin, + And both neglect. What if this cursed hand + Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, + Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens + To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy + But to confront the visage of offence? + And what's in prayer but this two-fold force, + To be forestalled ere we come to fall, + Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; + My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer + Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? + That cannot be; since I am still possess'd + Of those effects for which I did the murder, + My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. + May one be pardon'd and retain the offence? + In the corrupted currents of this world + Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, + And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself + Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above; + There is no shuffling, there the action lies + In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, + Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, + To give in evidence. What then? what rests? + Try what repentance can: what can it not? + Yet what can it when one can not repent? + O wretched state! O bosom black as death! + O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, + Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! + Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel, + Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe! + All may be well. + + [Retires and kneels] + + [Enter HAMLET] + +HAMLET Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; + And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven; + And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd: + A villain kills my father; and for that, + I, his sole son, do this same villain send + To heaven. + O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. + He took my father grossly, full of bread; + With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; + And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? + But in our circumstance and course of thought, + 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged, + To take him in the purging of his soul, + When he is fit and season'd for his passage? + No! + Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: + When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, + Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; + At gaming, swearing, or about some act + That has no relish of salvation in't; + Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, + And that his soul may be as damn'd and black + As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: + This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. + + [Exit] + +KING CLAUDIUS [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: + Words without thoughts never to heaven go. + + [Exit] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The Queen's closet. + + + [Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS] + +LORD POLONIUS He will come straight. Look you lay home to him: + Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, + And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between + Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here. + Pray you, be round with him. + +HAMLET [Within] Mother, mother, mother! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE I'll warrant you, + Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming. + + [POLONIUS hides behind the arras] + + [Enter HAMLET] + +HAMLET Now, mother, what's the matter? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. + +HAMLET Mother, you have my father much offended. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. + +HAMLET Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Why, how now, Hamlet! + +HAMLET What's the matter now? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Have you forgot me? + +HAMLET No, by the rood, not so: + You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; + And--would it were not so!--you are my mother. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak. + +HAMLET Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; + You go not till I set you up a glass + Where you may see the inmost part of you. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? + Help, help, ho! + +LORD POLONIUS [Behind] What, ho! help, help, help! + +HAMLET [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead! + + [Makes a pass through the arras] + +LORD POLONIUS [Behind] O, I am slain! + + [Falls and dies] + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O me, what hast thou done? + +HAMLET Nay, I know not: + Is it the king? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! + +HAMLET A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother, + As kill a king, and marry with his brother. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE As kill a king! + +HAMLET Ay, lady, 'twas my word. + + [Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS] + + Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! + I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune; + Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. + Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down, + And let me wring your heart; for so I shall, + If it be made of penetrable stuff, + If damned custom have not brass'd it so + That it is proof and bulwark against sense. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue + In noise so rude against me? + +HAMLET Such an act + That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, + Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose + From the fair forehead of an innocent love + And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows + As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed + As from the body of contraction plucks + The very soul, and sweet religion makes + A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow: + Yea, this solidity and compound mass, + With tristful visage, as against the doom, + Is thought-sick at the act. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay me, what act, + That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? + +HAMLET Look here, upon this picture, and on this, + The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. + See, what a grace was seated on this brow; + Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; + An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; + A station like the herald Mercury + New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; + A combination and a form indeed, + Where every god did seem to set his seal, + To give the world assurance of a man: + This was your husband. Look you now, what follows: + Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, + Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? + Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, + And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? + You cannot call it love; for at your age + The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, + And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment + Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have, + Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense + Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, + Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd + But it reserved some quantity of choice, + To serve in such a difference. What devil was't + That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? + Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, + Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, + Or but a sickly part of one true sense + Could not so mope. + O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, + If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, + To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, + And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame + When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, + Since frost itself as actively doth burn + And reason panders will. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O Hamlet, speak no more: + Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; + And there I see such black and grained spots + As will not leave their tinct. + +HAMLET Nay, but to live + In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, + Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love + Over the nasty sty,-- + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O, speak to me no more; + These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears; + No more, sweet Hamlet! + +HAMLET A murderer and a villain; + A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe + Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; + A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, + That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, + And put it in his pocket! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE No more! + +HAMLET A king of shreds and patches,-- + + [Enter Ghost] + + Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, + You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, he's mad! + +HAMLET Do you not come your tardy son to chide, + That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by + The important acting of your dread command? O, say! + +Ghost Do not forget: this visitation + Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. + But, look, amazement on thy mother sits: + O, step between her and her fighting soul: + Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works: + Speak to her, Hamlet. + +HAMLET How is it with you, lady? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, how is't with you, + That you do bend your eye on vacancy + And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? + Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; + And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, + Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, + Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son, + Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper + Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? + +HAMLET On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! + His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, + Would make them capable. Do not look upon me; + Lest with this piteous action you convert + My stern effects: then what I have to do + Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE To whom do you speak this? + +HAMLET Do you see nothing there? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. + +HAMLET Nor did you nothing hear? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE No, nothing but ourselves. + +HAMLET Why, look you there! look, how it steals away! + My father, in his habit as he lived! + Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! + + [Exit Ghost] + +QUEEN GERTRUDE This the very coinage of your brain: + This bodiless creation ecstasy + Is very cunning in. + +HAMLET Ecstasy! + My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, + And makes as healthful music: it is not madness + That I have utter'd: bring me to the test, + And I the matter will re-word; which madness + Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, + Lay not that mattering unction to your soul, + That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, + Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; + Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; + And do not spread the compost on the weeds, + To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; + For in the fatness of these pursy times + Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, + Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. + +HAMLET O, throw away the worser part of it, + And live the purer with the other half. + Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed; + Assume a virtue, if you have it not. + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, + Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock or livery, + That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy; + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. Once more, good night: + And when you are desirous to be bless'd, + I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, + + [Pointing to POLONIUS] + + I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so, + To punish me with this and this with me, + That I must be their scourge and minister. + I will bestow him, and will answer well + The death I gave him. So, again, good night. + I must be cruel, only to be kind: + Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. + One word more, good lady. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE What shall I do? + +HAMLET Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: + Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; + Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; + And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, + Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, + Make you to ravel all this matter out, + That I essentially am not in madness, + But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; + For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, + Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, + Such dear concernings hide? who would do so? + No, in despite of sense and secrecy, + Unpeg the basket on the house's top. + Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, + To try conclusions, in the basket creep, + And break your own neck down. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Be thou assured, if words be made of breath, + And breath of life, I have no life to breathe + What thou hast said to me. + +HAMLET I must to England; you know that? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, + I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on. + +HAMLET There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows, + Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, + They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, + And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; + For 'tis the sport to have the engineer + Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard + But I will delve one yard below their mines, + And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet, + When in one line two crafts directly meet. + This man shall set me packing: + I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room. + Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor + Is now most still, most secret and most grave, + Who was in life a foolish prating knave. + Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. + Good night, mother. + + [Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, + and GUILDENSTERN] + +KING CLAUDIUS There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: + You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them. + Where is your son? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Bestow this place on us a little while. + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night! + +KING CLAUDIUS What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend + Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit, + Behind the arras hearing something stir, + Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat!' + And, in this brainish apprehension, kills + The unseen good old man. + +KING CLAUDIUS O heavy deed! + It had been so with us, had we been there: + His liberty is full of threats to all; + To you yourself, to us, to every one. + Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? + It will be laid to us, whose providence + Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt, + This mad young man: but so much was our love, + We would not understand what was most fit; + But, like the owner of a foul disease, + To keep it from divulging, let it feed + Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: + O'er whom his very madness, like some ore + Among a mineral of metals base, + Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done. + +KING CLAUDIUS O Gertrude, come away! + The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, + But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed + We must, with all our majesty and skill, + Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! + + [Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + Friends both, go join you with some further aid: + Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, + And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: + Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body + Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; + And let them know, both what we mean to do, + And what's untimely done [ ] + Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, + As level as the cannon to his blank, + Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name, + And hit the woundless air. O, come away! + My soul is full of discord and dismay. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Another room in the castle. + + + [Enter HAMLET] + +HAMLET Safely stowed. + + +ROSENCRANTZ: | + | [Within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! +GUILDENSTERN: | + + +HAMLET What noise? who calls on Hamlet? + O, here they come. + + [Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + +ROSENCRANTZ What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? + +HAMLET Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. + +ROSENCRANTZ Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence + And bear it to the chapel. + +HAMLET Do not believe it. + +ROSENCRANTZ Believe what? + +HAMLET That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. + Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what + replication should be made by the son of a king? + +ROSENCRANTZ Take you me for a sponge, my lord? + +HAMLET Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his + rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the + king best service in the end: he keeps them, like + an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to + be last swallowed: when he needs what you have + gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you + shall be dry again. + +ROSENCRANTZ I understand you not, my lord. + +HAMLET I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a + foolish ear. + +ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go + with us to the king. + +HAMLET The body is with the king, but the king is not with + the body. The king is a thing-- + +GUILDENSTERN A thing, my lord! + +HAMLET Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Another room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended] + +KING CLAUDIUS I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. + How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! + Yet must not we put the strong law on him: + He's loved of the distracted multitude, + Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; + And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd, + But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, + This sudden sending him away must seem + Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown + By desperate appliance are relieved, + Or not at all. + + [Enter ROSENCRANTZ] + + How now! what hath befall'n? + +ROSENCRANTZ Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, + We cannot get from him. + +KING CLAUDIUS But where is he? + +ROSENCRANTZ Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. + +KING CLAUDIUS Bring him before us. + +ROSENCRANTZ Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord. + + [Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN] + +KING CLAUDIUS Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? + +HAMLET At supper. + +KING CLAUDIUS At supper! where? + +HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain + convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your + worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all + creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for + maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but + variable service, two dishes, but to one table: + that's the end. + +KING CLAUDIUS Alas, alas! + +HAMLET A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a + king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. + +KING CLAUDIUS What dost you mean by this? + +HAMLET Nothing but to show you how a king may go a + progress through the guts of a beggar. + +KING CLAUDIUS Where is Polonius? + +HAMLET In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger + find him not there, seek him i' the other place + yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within + this month, you shall nose him as you go up the + stairs into the lobby. + +KING CLAUDIUS Go seek him there. + + [To some Attendants] + +HAMLET He will stay till ye come. + + [Exeunt Attendants] + +KING CLAUDIUS Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,-- + Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve + For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence + With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself; + The bark is ready, and the wind at help, + The associates tend, and every thing is bent + For England. + +HAMLET For England! + +KING CLAUDIUS Ay, Hamlet. + +HAMLET Good. + +KING CLAUDIUS So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. + +HAMLET I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for + England! Farewell, dear mother. + +KING CLAUDIUS Thy loving father, Hamlet. + +HAMLET My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man + and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! + + [Exit] + +KING CLAUDIUS Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; + Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night: + Away! for every thing is seal'd and done + That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste. + + [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN] + + And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught-- + As my great power thereof may give thee sense, + Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red + After the Danish sword, and thy free awe + Pays homage to us--thou mayst not coldly set + Our sovereign process; which imports at full, + By letters congruing to that effect, + The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; + For like the hectic in my blood he rages, + And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done, + Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. + + [Exit] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV A plain in Denmark. + + + [Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching] + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; + Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras + Craves the conveyance of a promised march + Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. + If that his majesty would aught with us, + We shall express our duty in his eye; + And let him know so. + +Captain I will do't, my lord. + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go softly on. + + [Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers] + + [Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others] + +HAMLET Good sir, whose powers are these? + +Captain They are of Norway, sir. + +HAMLET How purposed, sir, I pray you? + +Captain Against some part of Poland. + +HAMLET Who commands them, sir? + +Captain The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras. + +HAMLET Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, + Or for some frontier? + +Captain Truly to speak, and with no addition, + We go to gain a little patch of ground + That hath in it no profit but the name. + To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; + Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole + A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. + +HAMLET Why, then the Polack never will defend it. + +Captain Yes, it is already garrison'd. + +HAMLET Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats + Will not debate the question of this straw: + This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace, + That inward breaks, and shows no cause without + Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir. + +Captain God be wi' you, sir. + + [Exit] + +ROSENCRANTZ Wilt please you go, my lord? + +HAMLET I'll be with you straight go a little before. + + [Exeunt all except HAMLET] + + How all occasions do inform against me, + And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, + If his chief good and market of his time + Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. + Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, + Looking before and after, gave us not + That capability and god-like reason + To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be + Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple + Of thinking too precisely on the event, + A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom + And ever three parts coward, I do not know + Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;' + Sith I have cause and will and strength and means + To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: + Witness this army of such mass and charge + Led by a delicate and tender prince, + Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd + Makes mouths at the invisible event, + Exposing what is mortal and unsure + To all that fortune, death and danger dare, + Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great + Is not to stir without great argument, + But greatly to find quarrel in a straw + When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, + That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, + Excitements of my reason and my blood, + And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see + The imminent death of twenty thousand men, + That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, + Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot + Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, + Which is not tomb enough and continent + To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, + My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! + + [Exit] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE V Elsinore. A room in the castle. + + + [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman] + +QUEEN GERTRUDE I will not speak with her. + +Gentleman She is importunate, indeed distract: + Her mood will needs be pitied. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE What would she have? + +Gentleman She speaks much of her father; says she hears + There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; + Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, + That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, + Yet the unshaped use of it doth move + The hearers to collection; they aim at it, + And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; + Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures + yield them, + Indeed would make one think there might be thought, + Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. + +HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew + Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Let her come in. + + [Exit HORATIO] + + To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, + Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: + So full of artless jealousy is guilt, + It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. + + [Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA] + +OPHELIA Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia! + +OPHELIA [Sings] + + How should I your true love know + From another one? + By his cockle hat and staff, + And his sandal shoon. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? + +OPHELIA Say you? nay, pray you, mark. + + [Sings] + + He is dead and gone, lady, + He is dead and gone; + At his head a grass-green turf, + At his heels a stone. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia,-- + +OPHELIA Pray you, mark. + + [Sings] + + White his shroud as the mountain snow,-- + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS] + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, look here, my lord. + +OPHELIA [Sings] + + Larded with sweet flowers + Which bewept to the grave did go + With true-love showers. + +KING CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady? + +OPHELIA Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's + daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not + what we may be. God be at your table! + +KING CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father. + +OPHELIA Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they + ask you what it means, say you this: + + [Sings] + + To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, + All in the morning betime, + And I a maid at your window, + To be your Valentine. + Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes, + And dupp'd the chamber-door; + Let in the maid, that out a maid + Never departed more. + +KING CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia! + +OPHELIA Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't: + + [Sings] + + By Gis and by Saint Charity, + Alack, and fie for shame! + Young men will do't, if they come to't; + By cock, they are to blame. + Quoth she, before you tumbled me, + You promised me to wed. + So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, + An thou hadst not come to my bed. + +KING CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus? + +OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I + cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him + i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: + and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my + coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; + good night, good night. + + [Exit] + +KING CLAUDIUS Follow her close; give her good watch, + I pray you. + + [Exit HORATIO] + + O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs + All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, + When sorrows come, they come not single spies + But in battalions. First, her father slain: + Next, your son gone; and he most violent author + Of his own just remove: the people muddied, + Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, + For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly, + In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia + Divided from herself and her fair judgment, + Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts: + Last, and as much containing as all these, + Her brother is in secret come from France; + Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, + And wants not buzzers to infect his ear + With pestilent speeches of his father's death; + Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, + Will nothing stick our person to arraign + In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, + Like to a murdering-piece, in many places + Gives me superfluous death. + + [A noise within] + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this? + +KING CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. + + [Enter another Gentleman] + + What is the matter? + +Gentleman Save yourself, my lord: + The ocean, overpeering of his list, + Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste + Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, + O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; + And, as the world were now but to begin, + Antiquity forgot, custom not known, + The ratifiers and props of every word, + They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:' + Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds: + 'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!' + +QUEEN GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! + O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! + +KING CLAUDIUS The doors are broke. + + [Noise within] + + [Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following] + +LAERTES Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without. + +Danes No, let's come in. + +LAERTES I pray you, give me leave. + +Danes We will, we will. + + [They retire without the door] + +LAERTES I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king, + Give me my father! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes. + +LAERTES That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard, + Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot + Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow + Of my true mother. + +KING CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes, + That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? + Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person: + There's such divinity doth hedge a king, + That treason can but peep to what it would, + Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, + Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude. + Speak, man. + +LAERTES Where is my father? + +KING CLAUDIUS Dead. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE But not by him. + +KING CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill. + +LAERTES How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: + To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! + Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! + I dare damnation. To this point I stand, + That both the worlds I give to negligence, + Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged + Most thoroughly for my father. + +KING CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you? + +LAERTES My will, not all the world: + And for my means, I'll husband them so well, + They shall go far with little. + +KING CLAUDIUS Good Laertes, + If you desire to know the certainty + Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge, + That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe, + Winner and loser? + +LAERTES None but his enemies. + +KING CLAUDIUS Will you know them then? + +LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms; + And like the kind life-rendering pelican, + Repast them with my blood. + +KING CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak + Like a good child and a true gentleman. + That I am guiltless of your father's death, + And am most sensible in grief for it, + It shall as level to your judgment pierce + As day does to your eye. + +Danes [Within] Let her come in. + +LAERTES How now! what noise is that? + + [Re-enter OPHELIA] + + O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, + Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! + By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, + Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! + Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! + O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits + Should be as moral as an old man's life? + Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, + It sends some precious instance of itself + After the thing it loves. + +OPHELIA [Sings] + + They bore him barefaced on the bier; + Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; + And in his grave rain'd many a tear:-- + Fare you well, my dove! + +LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, + It could not move thus. + +OPHELIA [Sings] + + You must sing a-down a-down, + An you call him a-down-a. + O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false + steward, that stole his master's daughter. + +LAERTES This nothing's more than matter. + +OPHELIA There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, + love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts. + +LAERTES A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted. + +OPHELIA There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue + for you; and here's some for me: we may call it + herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with + a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you + some violets, but they withered all when my father + died: they say he made a good end,-- + + [Sings] + + For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. + +LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, + She turns to favour and to prettiness. + +OPHELIA [Sings] + + And will he not come again? + And will he not come again? + No, no, he is dead: + Go to thy death-bed: + He never will come again. + + His beard was as white as snow, + All flaxen was his poll: + He is gone, he is gone, + And we cast away moan: + God ha' mercy on his soul! + + And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. + + [Exit] + +LAERTES Do you see this, O God? + +KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief, + Or you deny me right. Go but apart, + Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will. + And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me: + If by direct or by collateral hand + They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, + Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours, + To you in satisfaction; but if not, + Be you content to lend your patience to us, + And we shall jointly labour with your soul + To give it due content. + +LAERTES Let this be so; + His means of death, his obscure funeral-- + No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, + No noble rite nor formal ostentation-- + Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, + That I must call't in question. + +KING CLAUDIUS So you shall; + And where the offence is let the great axe fall. + I pray you, go with me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Another room in the castle. + + + [Enter HORATIO and a Servant] + +HORATIO What are they that would speak with me? + +Servant Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you. + +HORATIO Let them come in. + + [Exit Servant] + + I do not know from what part of the world + I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. + + [Enter Sailors] + +First Sailor God bless you, sir. + +HORATIO Let him bless thee too. + +First Sailor He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for + you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was + bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am + let to know it is. + +HORATIO [Reads] 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked + this, give these fellows some means to the king: + they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old + at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us + chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on + a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded + them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so + I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with + me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they + did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king + have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me + with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I + have words to speak in thine ear will make thee + dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of + the matter. These good fellows will bring thee + where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their + course for England: of them I have much to tell + thee. Farewell. + 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' + Come, I will make you way for these your letters; + And do't the speedier, that you may direct me + To him from whom you brought them. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE VII Another room in the castle. + + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES] + +KING CLAUDIUS Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal, + And you must put me in your heart for friend, + Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, + That he which hath your noble father slain + Pursued my life. + +LAERTES It well appears: but tell me + Why you proceeded not against these feats, + So crimeful and so capital in nature, + As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, + You mainly were stirr'd up. + +KING CLAUDIUS O, for two special reasons; + Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd, + But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother + Lives almost by his looks; and for myself-- + My virtue or my plague, be it either which-- + She's so conjunctive to my life and soul, + That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, + I could not but by her. The other motive, + Why to a public count I might not go, + Is the great love the general gender bear him; + Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, + Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, + Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows, + Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, + Would have reverted to my bow again, + And not where I had aim'd them. + +LAERTES And so have I a noble father lost; + A sister driven into desperate terms, + Whose worth, if praises may go back again, + Stood challenger on mount of all the age + For her perfections: but my revenge will come. + +KING CLAUDIUS Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think + That we are made of stuff so flat and dull + That we can let our beard be shook with danger + And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more: + I loved your father, and we love ourself; + And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-- + + [Enter a Messenger] + + How now! what news? + +Messenger Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: + This to your majesty; this to the queen. + +KING CLAUDIUS From Hamlet! who brought them? + +Messenger Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not: + They were given me by Claudio; he received them + Of him that brought them. + +KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us. + + [Exit Messenger] + + [Reads] + + 'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on + your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see + your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your + pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden + and more strange return. 'HAMLET.' + What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? + Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? + +LAERTES Know you the hand? + +KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked! + And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' + Can you advise me? + +LAERTES I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come; + It warms the very sickness in my heart, + That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, + 'Thus didest thou.' + +KING CLAUDIUS If it be so, Laertes-- + As how should it be so? how otherwise?-- + Will you be ruled by me? + +LAERTES Ay, my lord; + So you will not o'errule me to a peace. + +KING CLAUDIUS To thine own peace. If he be now return'd, + As checking at his voyage, and that he means + No more to undertake it, I will work him + To an exploit, now ripe in my device, + Under the which he shall not choose but fall: + And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, + But even his mother shall uncharge the practise + And call it accident. + +LAERTES My lord, I will be ruled; + The rather, if you could devise it so + That I might be the organ. + +KING CLAUDIUS It falls right. + You have been talk'd of since your travel much, + And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality + Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts + Did not together pluck such envy from him + As did that one, and that, in my regard, + Of the unworthiest siege. + +LAERTES What part is that, my lord? + +KING CLAUDIUS A very riband in the cap of youth, + Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes + The light and careless livery that it wears + Than settled age his sables and his weeds, + Importing health and graveness. Two months since, + Here was a gentleman of Normandy:-- + I've seen myself, and served against, the French, + And they can well on horseback: but this gallant + Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat; + And to such wondrous doing brought his horse, + As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured + With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought, + That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, + Come short of what he did. + +LAERTES A Norman was't? + +KING CLAUDIUS A Norman. + +LAERTES Upon my life, Lamond. + +KING CLAUDIUS The very same. + +LAERTES I know him well: he is the brooch indeed + And gem of all the nation. + +KING CLAUDIUS He made confession of you, + And gave you such a masterly report + For art and exercise in your defence + And for your rapier most especially, + That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, + If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation, + He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye, + If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his + Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy + That he could nothing do but wish and beg + Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. + Now, out of this,-- + +LAERTES What out of this, my lord? + +KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, was your father dear to you? + Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, + A face without a heart? + +LAERTES Why ask you this? + +KING CLAUDIUS Not that I think you did not love your father; + But that I know love is begun by time; + And that I see, in passages of proof, + Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. + There lives within the very flame of love + A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; + And nothing is at a like goodness still; + For goodness, growing to a plurisy, + Dies in his own too much: that we would do + We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes + And hath abatements and delays as many + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:-- + Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake, + To show yourself your father's son in deed + More than in words? + +LAERTES To cut his throat i' the church. + +KING CLAUDIUS No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize; + Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, + Will you do this, keep close within your chamber. + Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home: + We'll put on those shall praise your excellence + And set a double varnish on the fame + The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together + And wager on your heads: he, being remiss, + Most generous and free from all contriving, + Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, + Or with a little shuffling, you may choose + A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise + Requite him for your father. + +LAERTES I will do't: + And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword. + I bought an unction of a mountebank, + So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, + Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, + Collected from all simples that have virtue + Under the moon, can save the thing from death + That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point + With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, + It may be death. + +KING CLAUDIUS Let's further think of this; + Weigh what convenience both of time and means + May fit us to our shape: if this should fail, + And that our drift look through our bad performance, + 'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project + Should have a back or second, that might hold, + If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see: + We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't. + When in your motion you are hot and dry-- + As make your bouts more violent to that end-- + And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him + A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, + If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, + Our purpose may hold there. + + [Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE] + + How now, sweet queen! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE One woe doth tread upon another's heel, + So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes. + +LAERTES Drown'd! O, where? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE There is a willow grows aslant a brook, + That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; + There with fantastic garlands did she come + Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples + That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, + But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: + There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds + Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; + When down her weedy trophies and herself + Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; + And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: + Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; + As one incapable of her own distress, + Or like a creature native and indued + Unto that element: but long it could not be + Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, + Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay + To muddy death. + +LAERTES Alas, then, she is drown'd? + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Drown'd, drown'd. + +LAERTES Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, + And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet + It is our trick; nature her custom holds, + Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, + The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord: + I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, + But that this folly douts it. + + [Exit] + +KING CLAUDIUS Let's follow, Gertrude: + How much I had to do to calm his rage! + Now fear I this will give it start again; + Therefore let's follow. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I A churchyard. + + + [Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c] + +First Clown Is she to be buried in Christian burial that + wilfully seeks her own salvation? + +Second Clown I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave + straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it + Christian burial. + +First Clown How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her + own defence? + +Second Clown Why, 'tis found so. + +First Clown It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For + here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, + it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it + is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned + herself wittingly. + +Second Clown Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,-- + +First Clown Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here + stands the man; good; if the man go to this water, + and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he + goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him + and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he + that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. + +Second Clown But is this law? + +First Clown Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law. + +Second Clown Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been + a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' + Christian burial. + +First Clown Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that + great folk should have countenance in this world to + drown or hang themselves, more than their even + Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient + gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: + they hold up Adam's profession. + +Second Clown Was he a gentleman? + +First Clown He was the first that ever bore arms. + +Second Clown Why, he had none. + +First Clown What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the + Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:' + could he dig without arms? I'll put another + question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the + purpose, confess thyself-- + +Second Clown Go to. + +First Clown What is he that builds stronger than either the + mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? + +Second Clown The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a + thousand tenants. + +First Clown I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows + does well; but how does it well? it does well to + those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the + gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, + the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come. + +Second Clown 'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or + a carpenter?' + +First Clown Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. + +Second Clown Marry, now I can tell. + +First Clown To't. + +Second Clown Mass, I cannot tell. + + [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance] + +First Clown Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull + ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when + you are asked this question next, say 'a + grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till + doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a + stoup of liquor. + + [Exit Second Clown] + + [He digs and sings] + + In youth, when I did love, did love, + Methought it was very sweet, + To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove, + O, methought, there was nothing meet. + +HAMLET Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he + sings at grave-making? + +HORATIO Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. + +HAMLET 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath + the daintier sense. + +First Clown [Sings] + + But age, with his stealing steps, + Hath claw'd me in his clutch, + And hath shipped me intil the land, + As if I had never been such. + + [Throws up a skull] + +HAMLET That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: + how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were + Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It + might be the pate of a politician, which this ass + now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, + might it not? + +HORATIO It might, my lord. + +HAMLET Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow, + sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might + be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord + such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not? + +HORATIO Ay, my lord. + +HAMLET Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and + knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: + here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to + see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, + but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't. + +First Clown: [Sings] + + A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, + For and a shrouding sheet: + O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + + [Throws up another skull] + +HAMLET There's another: why may not that be the skull of a + lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, + his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he + suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the + sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of + his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be + in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, + his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, + his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and + the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine + pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him + no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than + the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The + very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in + this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha? + +HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. + +HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? + +HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. + +HAMLET They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance + in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose + grave's this, sirrah? + +First Clown Mine, sir. + + [Sings] + + O, a pit of clay for to be made + For such a guest is meet. + +HAMLET I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. + +First Clown You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not + yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine. + +HAMLET 'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine: + 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. + +First Clown 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to + you. + +HAMLET What man dost thou dig it for? + +First Clown For no man, sir. + +HAMLET What woman, then? + +First Clown For none, neither. + +HAMLET Who is to be buried in't? + +First Clown One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. + +HAMLET How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the + card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, + Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of + it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the + peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he + gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a + grave-maker? + +First Clown Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day + that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. + +HAMLET How long is that since? + +First Clown Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it + was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that + is mad, and sent into England. + +HAMLET Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? + +First Clown Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits + there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there. + +HAMLET Why? + +First Clown 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men + are as mad as he. + +HAMLET How came he mad? + +First Clown Very strangely, they say. + +HAMLET How strangely? + +First Clown Faith, e'en with losing his wits. + +HAMLET Upon what ground? + +First Clown Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man + and boy, thirty years. + +HAMLET How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? + +First Clown I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we + have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce + hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year + or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year. + +HAMLET Why he more than another? + +First Clown Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that + he will keep out water a great while; and your water + is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. + Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth + three and twenty years. + +HAMLET Whose was it? + +First Clown A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was? + +HAMLET Nay, I know not. + +First Clown A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a + flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, + sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. + +HAMLET This? + +First Clown E'en that. + +HAMLET Let me see. + + [Takes the skull] + + Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow + of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath + borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how + abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at + it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know + not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your + gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, + that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one + now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? + Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let + her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must + come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell + me one thing. + +HORATIO What's that, my lord? + +HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' + the earth? + +HORATIO E'en so. + +HAMLET And smelt so? pah! + + [Puts down the skull] + +HORATIO E'en so, my lord. + +HAMLET To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may + not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, + till he find it stopping a bung-hole? + +HORATIO 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. + +HAMLET No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with + modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as + thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, + Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of + earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he + was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? + Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: + O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, + Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw! + But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king. + + [Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of + OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING + CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c] + + The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow? + And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken + The corse they follow did with desperate hand + Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. + Couch we awhile, and mark. + + [Retiring with HORATIO] + +LAERTES What ceremony else? + +HAMLET That is Laertes, + A very noble youth: mark. + +LAERTES What ceremony else? + +First Priest Her obsequies have been as far enlarged + As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; + And, but that great command o'ersways the order, + She should in ground unsanctified have lodged + Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers, + Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her; + Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, + Her maiden strewments and the bringing home + Of bell and burial. + +LAERTES Must there no more be done? + +First Priest No more be done: + We should profane the service of the dead + To sing a requiem and such rest to her + As to peace-parted souls. + +LAERTES Lay her i' the earth: + And from her fair and unpolluted flesh + May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, + A ministering angel shall my sister be, + When thou liest howling. + +HAMLET What, the fair Ophelia! + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Sweets to the sweet: farewell! + + [Scattering flowers] + + I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; + I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, + And not have strew'd thy grave. + +LAERTES O, treble woe + Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, + Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense + Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, + Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: + + [Leaps into the grave] + + Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, + Till of this flat a mountain you have made, + To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head + Of blue Olympus. + +HAMLET [Advancing] What is he whose grief + Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow + Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand + Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, + Hamlet the Dane. + + [Leaps into the grave] + +LAERTES The devil take thy soul! + + [Grappling with him] + +HAMLET Thou pray'st not well. + I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; + For, though I am not splenitive and rash, + Yet have I something in me dangerous, + Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand. + +KING CLAUDIUS Pluck them asunder. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, Hamlet! + +All Gentlemen,-- + +HORATIO Good my lord, be quiet. + + [The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave] + +HAMLET Why I will fight with him upon this theme + Until my eyelids will no longer wag. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE O my son, what theme? + +HAMLET I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers + Could not, with all their quantity of love, + Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? + +KING CLAUDIUS O, he is mad, Laertes. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE For love of God, forbear him. + +HAMLET 'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do: + Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? + Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? + I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? + To outface me with leaping in her grave? + Be buried quick with her, and so will I: + And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw + Millions of acres on us, till our ground, + Singeing his pate against the burning zone, + Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, + I'll rant as well as thou. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE This is mere madness: + And thus awhile the fit will work on him; + Anon, as patient as the female dove, + When that her golden couplets are disclosed, + His silence will sit drooping. + +HAMLET Hear you, sir; + What is the reason that you use me thus? + I loved you ever: but it is no matter; + Let Hercules himself do what he may, + The cat will mew and dog will have his day. + + [Exit] + +KING CLAUDIUS I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. + + [Exit HORATIO] + + [To LAERTES] + + Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; + We'll put the matter to the present push. + Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. + This grave shall have a living monument: + An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; + Till then, in patience our proceeding be. + + [Exeunt] + + + + HAMLET + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II A hall in the castle. + + + [Enter HAMLET and HORATIO] + +HAMLET So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; + You do remember all the circumstance? + +HORATIO Remember it, my lord? + +HAMLET Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, + That would not let me sleep: methought I lay + Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, + And praised be rashness for it, let us know, + Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, + When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us + There's a divinity that shapes our ends, + Rough-hew them how we will,-- + +HORATIO That is most certain. + +HAMLET Up from my cabin, + My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark + Groped I to find out them; had my desire. + Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew + To mine own room again; making so bold, + My fears forgetting manners, to unseal + Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- + O royal knavery!--an exact command, + Larded with many several sorts of reasons + Importing Denmark's health and England's too, + With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, + That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, + No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, + My head should be struck off. + +HORATIO Is't possible? + +HAMLET Here's the commission: read it at more leisure. + But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed? + +HORATIO I beseech you. + +HAMLET Being thus be-netted round with villanies,-- + Ere I could make a prologue to my brains, + They had begun the play--I sat me down, + Devised a new commission, wrote it fair: + I once did hold it, as our statists do, + A baseness to write fair and labour'd much + How to forget that learning, but, sir, now + It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know + The effect of what I wrote? + +HORATIO Ay, good my lord. + +HAMLET An earnest conjuration from the king, + As England was his faithful tributary, + As love between them like the palm might flourish, + As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear + And stand a comma 'tween their amities, + And many such-like 'As'es of great charge, + That, on the view and knowing of these contents, + Without debatement further, more or less, + He should the bearers put to sudden death, + Not shriving-time allow'd. + +HORATIO How was this seal'd? + +HAMLET Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. + I had my father's signet in my purse, + Which was the model of that Danish seal; + Folded the writ up in form of the other, + Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely, + The changeling never known. Now, the next day + Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent + Thou know'st already. + +HORATIO So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. + +HAMLET Why, man, they did make love to this employment; + They are not near my conscience; their defeat + Does by their own insinuation grow: + 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes + Between the pass and fell incensed points + Of mighty opposites. + +HORATIO Why, what a king is this! + +HAMLET Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon-- + He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother, + Popp'd in between the election and my hopes, + Thrown out his angle for my proper life, + And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience, + To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd, + To let this canker of our nature come + In further evil? + +HORATIO It must be shortly known to him from England + What is the issue of the business there. + +HAMLET It will be short: the interim is mine; + And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.' + But I am very sorry, good Horatio, + That to Laertes I forgot myself; + For, by the image of my cause, I see + The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours. + But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me + Into a towering passion. + +HORATIO Peace! who comes here? + + [Enter OSRIC] + +OSRIC Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. + +HAMLET I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly? + +HORATIO No, my good lord. + +HAMLET Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to + know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a + beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at + the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say, + spacious in the possession of dirt. + +OSRIC Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I + should impart a thing to you from his majesty. + +HAMLET I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of + spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head. + +OSRIC I thank your lordship, it is very hot. + +HAMLET No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is + northerly. + +OSRIC It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. + +HAMLET But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my + complexion. + +OSRIC Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as + 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his + majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a + great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- + +HAMLET I beseech you, remember-- + + [HAMLET moves him to put on his hat] + +OSRIC Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. + Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe + me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent + differences, of very soft society and great showing: + indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or + calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the + continent of what part a gentleman would see. + +HAMLET Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; + though, I know, to divide him inventorially would + dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw + neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the + verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of + great article; and his infusion of such dearth and + rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his + semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace + him, his umbrage, nothing more. + +OSRIC Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. + +HAMLET The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman + in our more rawer breath? + +OSRIC Sir? + +HORATIO Is't not possible to understand in another tongue? + You will do't, sir, really. + +HAMLET What imports the nomination of this gentleman? + +OSRIC Of Laertes? + +HORATIO His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent. + +HAMLET Of him, sir. + +OSRIC I know you are not ignorant-- + +HAMLET I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, + it would not much approve me. Well, sir? + +OSRIC You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-- + +HAMLET I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with + him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to + know himself. + +OSRIC I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation + laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. + +HAMLET What's his weapon? + +OSRIC Rapier and dagger. + +HAMLET That's two of his weapons: but, well. + +OSRIC The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary + horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take + it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their + assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the + carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very + responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, + and of very liberal conceit. + +HAMLET What call you the carriages? + +HORATIO I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done. + +OSRIC The carriages, sir, are the hangers. + +HAMLET The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we + could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might + be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses + against six French swords, their assigns, and three + liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet + against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it? + +OSRIC The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes + between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you + three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it + would come to immediate trial, if your lordship + would vouchsafe the answer. + +HAMLET How if I answer 'no'? + +OSRIC I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. + +HAMLET Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his + majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let + the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the + king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can; + if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits. + +OSRIC Shall I re-deliver you e'en so? + +HAMLET To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will. + +OSRIC I commend my duty to your lordship. + +HAMLET Yours, yours. + + [Exit OSRIC] + + He does well to commend it himself; there are no + tongues else for's turn. + +HORATIO This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. + +HAMLET He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it. + Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I + know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of + the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of + yesty collection, which carries them through and + through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do + but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out. + + [Enter a Lord] + +Lord My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young + Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in + the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to + play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time. + +HAMLET I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's + pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now + or whensoever, provided I be so able as now. + +Lord The king and queen and all are coming down. + +HAMLET In happy time. + +Lord The queen desires you to use some gentle + entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. + +HAMLET She well instructs me. + + [Exit Lord] + +HORATIO You will lose this wager, my lord. + +HAMLET I do not think so: since he went into France, I + have been in continual practise: I shall win at the + odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here + about my heart: but it is no matter. + +HORATIO Nay, good my lord,-- + +HAMLET It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of + gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman. + +HORATIO If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will + forestall their repair hither, and say you are not + fit. + +HAMLET Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special + providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, + 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be + now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the + readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he + leaves, what is't to leave betimes? + + [Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES, + Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c] + +KING CLAUDIUS Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. + + [KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's] + +HAMLET Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong; + But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. + This presence knows, + And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd + With sore distraction. What I have done, + That might your nature, honour and exception + Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. + Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet: + If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, + And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, + Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. + Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, + Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; + His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. + Sir, in this audience, + Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil + Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, + That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house, + And hurt my brother. + +LAERTES I am satisfied in nature, + Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most + To my revenge: but in my terms of honour + I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement, + Till by some elder masters, of known honour, + I have a voice and precedent of peace, + To keep my name ungored. But till that time, + I do receive your offer'd love like love, + And will not wrong it. + +HAMLET I embrace it freely; + And will this brother's wager frankly play. + Give us the foils. Come on. + +LAERTES Come, one for me. + +HAMLET I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance + Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, + Stick fiery off indeed. + +LAERTES You mock me, sir. + +HAMLET No, by this hand. + +KING CLAUDIUS Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, + You know the wager? + +HAMLET Very well, my lord + Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side. + +KING CLAUDIUS I do not fear it; I have seen you both: + But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. + +LAERTES This is too heavy, let me see another. + +HAMLET This likes me well. These foils have all a length? + + [They prepare to play] + +OSRIC Ay, my good lord. + +KING CLAUDIUS Set me the stoops of wine upon that table. + If Hamlet give the first or second hit, + Or quit in answer of the third exchange, + Let all the battlements their ordnance fire: + The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath; + And in the cup an union shall he throw, + Richer than that which four successive kings + In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; + And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, + The trumpet to the cannoneer without, + The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, + 'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin: + And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. + +HAMLET Come on, sir. + +LAERTES Come, my lord. + + [They play] + +HAMLET One. + +LAERTES No. + +HAMLET Judgment. + +OSRIC A hit, a very palpable hit. + +LAERTES Well; again. + +KING CLAUDIUS Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; + Here's to thy health. + + [Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within] + + Give him the cup. + +HAMLET I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come. + + [They play] + + Another hit; what say you? + +LAERTES A touch, a touch, I do confess. + +KING CLAUDIUS Our son shall win. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE He's fat, and scant of breath. + Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows; + The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. + +HAMLET Good madam! + +KING CLAUDIUS Gertrude, do not drink. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me. + +KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late. + +HAMLET I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, let me wipe thy face. + +LAERTES My lord, I'll hit him now. + +KING CLAUDIUS I do not think't. + +LAERTES [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience. + +HAMLET Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally; + I pray you, pass with your best violence; + I am afeard you make a wanton of me. + +LAERTES Say you so? come on. + + [They play] + +OSRIC Nothing, neither way. + +LAERTES Have at you now! + + [LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they + change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES] + +KING CLAUDIUS Part them; they are incensed. + +HAMLET Nay, come, again. + + [QUEEN GERTRUDE falls] + +OSRIC Look to the queen there, ho! + +HORATIO They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? + +OSRIC How is't, Laertes? + +LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric; + I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. + +HAMLET How does the queen? + +KING CLAUDIUS She swounds to see them bleed. + +QUEEN GERTRUDE No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- + The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. + + [Dies] + +HAMLET O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd: + Treachery! Seek it out. + +LAERTES It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain; + No medicine in the world can do thee good; + In thee there is not half an hour of life; + The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, + Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise + Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie, + Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd: + I can no more: the king, the king's to blame. + +HAMLET The point!--envenom'd too! + Then, venom, to thy work. + + [Stabs KING CLAUDIUS] + +All Treason! treason! + +KING CLAUDIUS O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt. + +HAMLET Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, + Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? + Follow my mother. + + [KING CLAUDIUS dies] + +LAERTES He is justly served; + It is a poison temper'd by himself. + Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: + Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, + Nor thine on me. + + [Dies] + +HAMLET Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. + I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! + You that look pale and tremble at this chance, + That are but mutes or audience to this act, + Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death, + Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you-- + But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; + Thou livest; report me and my cause aright + To the unsatisfied. + +HORATIO Never believe it: + I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: + Here's yet some liquor left. + +HAMLET As thou'rt a man, + Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. + O good Horatio, what a wounded name, + Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! + If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart + Absent thee from felicity awhile, + And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, + To tell my story. + + [March afar off, and shot within] + + What warlike noise is this? + +OSRIC Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, + To the ambassadors of England gives + This warlike volley. + +HAMLET O, I die, Horatio; + The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: + I cannot live to hear the news from England; + But I do prophesy the election lights + On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; + So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, + Which have solicited. The rest is silence. + + [Dies] + +HORATIO Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! + Why does the drum come hither? + + [March within] + + [Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors, + and others] + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS Where is this sight? + +HORATIO What is it ye would see? + If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death, + What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, + That thou so many princes at a shot + So bloodily hast struck? + +First Ambassador The sight is dismal; + And our affairs from England come too late: + The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, + To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, + That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: + Where should we have our thanks? + +HORATIO Not from his mouth, + Had it the ability of life to thank you: + He never gave commandment for their death. + But since, so jump upon this bloody question, + You from the Polack wars, and you from England, + Are here arrived give order that these bodies + High on a stage be placed to the view; + And let me speak to the yet unknowing world + How these things came about: so shall you hear + Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, + Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, + Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, + And, in this upshot, purposes mistook + Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I + Truly deliver. + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let us haste to hear it, + And call the noblest to the audience. + For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune: + I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, + Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. + +HORATIO Of that I shall have also cause to speak, + And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more; + But let this same be presently perform'd, + Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance + On plots and errors, happen. + +PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let four captains + Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; + For he was likely, had he been put on, + To have proved most royally: and, for his passage, + The soldiers' music and the rites of war + Speak loudly for him. + Take up the bodies: such a sight as this + Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. + Go, bid the soldiers shoot. + + [A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead + bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off] + JULIUS CAESAR + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +JULIUS CAESAR (CAESAR:) + + +OCTAVIUS CAESAR (OCTAVIUS:) | + | +MARCUS ANTONIUS (ANTONY:) | triumvirs after death of Julius Caesar. + | +M. AEMILIUS | +LEPIDUS (LEPIDUS:) | + + +CICERO | + | +PUBLIUS | senators. + | +POPILIUS LENA (POPILIUS:) | + + +MARCUS BRUTUS (BRUTUS:) | + | +CASSIUS | + | +CASCA | + | +TREBONIUS | + | conspirators against Julius Caesar. +LIGARIUS | + | +DECIUS BRUTUS | + | +METELLUS CIMBER | + | +CINNA | + + +FLAVIUS | + | tribunes. +MARULLUS | + + +ARTEMIDORUS +Of Cnidos a teacher of rhetoric. (ARTEMIDORUS:) + +A Soothsayer (Soothsayer:) + +CINNA a poet. (CINNA THE POET:) + +Another Poet (Poet:) + + +LUCILIUS | + | +TITINIUS | + | +MESSALA | friends to Brutus and Cassius. + | +Young CATO (CATO:) | + | +VOLUMNIUS | + + +VARRO | + | +CLITUS | + | +CLAUDIUS | + | servants to Brutus. +STRATO | + | +LUCIUS | + | +DARDANIUS | + + +PINDARUS servant to Cassius. + +CALPURNIA wife to Caesar. + +PORTIA wife to Brutus. + + Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, &c. + (First Citizen:) + (Second Citizen:) + (Third Citizen:) + (Fourth Citizen:) + (First Commoner:) + (Second Commoner:) + (Servant:) + (First Soldier:) + (Second Soldier:) + (Third Soldier:) + (Messenger:) + + +SCENE Rome: the neighbourhood of Sardis: the neighbourhood + of Philippi. + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Rome. A street. + + + [Enter FLAVIUS, MARULLUS, and certain Commoners] + +FLAVIUS Hence! home, you idle creatures get you home: + Is this a holiday? what! know you not, + Being mechanical, you ought not walk + Upon a labouring day without the sign + Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou? + +First Commoner Why, sir, a carpenter. + +MARULLUS Where is thy leather apron and thy rule? + What dost thou with thy best apparel on? + You, sir, what trade are you? + +Second Commoner Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, + as you would say, a cobbler. + +MARULLUS But what trade art thou? answer me directly. + +Second Commoner A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe + conscience; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. + +MARULLUS What trade, thou knave? thou naughty knave, what trade? + +Second Commoner Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me: yet, + if you be out, sir, I can mend you. + +MARULLUS What meanest thou by that? mend me, thou saucy fellow! + +Second Commoner Why, sir, cobble you. + +FLAVIUS Thou art a cobbler, art thou? + +Second Commoner Truly, sir, all that I live by is with the awl: I + meddle with no tradesman's matters, nor women's + matters, but with awl. I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon + to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I + recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon + neat's leather have gone upon my handiwork. + +FLAVIUS But wherefore art not in thy shop today? + Why dost thou lead these men about the streets? + +Second Commoner Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself + into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, + to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph. + +MARULLUS Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home? + What tributaries follow him to Rome, + To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels? + You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! + O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, + Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft + Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, + To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, + Your infants in your arms, and there have sat + The livelong day, with patient expectation, + To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome: + And when you saw his chariot but appear, + Have you not made an universal shout, + That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, + To hear the replication of your sounds + Made in her concave shores? + And do you now put on your best attire? + And do you now cull out a holiday? + And do you now strew flowers in his way + That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! + Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, + Pray to the gods to intermit the plague + That needs must light on this ingratitude. + +FLAVIUS Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, + Assemble all the poor men of your sort; + Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears + Into the channel, till the lowest stream + Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. + + [Exeunt all the Commoners] + + See whether their basest metal be not moved; + They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. + Go you down that way towards the Capitol; + This way will I disrobe the images, + If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. + +MARULLUS May we do so? + You know it is the feast of Lupercal. + +FLAVIUS It is no matter; let no images + Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, + And drive away the vulgar from the streets: + So do you too, where you perceive them thick. + These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing + Will make him fly an ordinary pitch, + Who else would soar above the view of men + And keep us all in servile fearfulness. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A public place. + + + + [Flourish. Enter CAESAR; ANTONY, for the course; + CALPURNIA, PORTIA, DECIUS BRUTUS, CICERO, BRUTUS, + CASSIUS, and CASCA; a great crowd following, among + them a Soothsayer] + +CAESAR Calpurnia! + +CASCA Peace, ho! Caesar speaks. + +CAESAR Calpurnia! + +CALPURNIA Here, my lord. + +CAESAR Stand you directly in Antonius' way, + When he doth run his course. Antonius! + +ANTONY Caesar, my lord? + +CAESAR Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, + To touch Calpurnia; for our elders say, + The barren, touched in this holy chase, + Shake off their sterile curse. + +ANTONY I shall remember: + When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd. + +CAESAR Set on; and leave no ceremony out. + + [Flourish] + +Soothsayer Caesar! + +CAESAR Ha! who calls? + +CASCA Bid every noise be still: peace yet again! + +CAESAR Who is it in the press that calls on me? + I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, + Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear. + +Soothsayer Beware the ides of March. + +CAESAR What man is that? + +BRUTUS A soothsayer bids you beware the ides of March. + +CAESAR Set him before me; let me see his face. + +CASSIUS Fellow, come from the throng; look upon Caesar. + +CAESAR What say'st thou to me now? speak once again. + +Soothsayer Beware the ides of March. + +CAESAR He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass. + + [Sennet. Exeunt all except BRUTUS and CASSIUS] + +CASSIUS Will you go see the order of the course? + +BRUTUS Not I. + +CASSIUS I pray you, do. + +BRUTUS I am not gamesome: I do lack some part + Of that quick spirit that is in Antony. + Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires; + I'll leave you. + +CASSIUS Brutus, I do observe you now of late: + I have not from your eyes that gentleness + And show of love as I was wont to have: + You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand + Over your friend that loves you. + +BRUTUS Cassius, + Be not deceived: if I have veil'd my look, + I turn the trouble of my countenance + Merely upon myself. Vexed I am + Of late with passions of some difference, + Conceptions only proper to myself, + Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors; + But let not therefore my good friends be grieved-- + Among which number, Cassius, be you one-- + Nor construe any further my neglect, + Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war, + Forgets the shows of love to other men. + +CASSIUS Then, Brutus, I have much mistook your passion; + By means whereof this breast of mine hath buried + Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. + Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face? + +BRUTUS No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, + But by reflection, by some other things. + +CASSIUS 'Tis just: + And it is very much lamented, Brutus, + That you have no such mirrors as will turn + Your hidden worthiness into your eye, + That you might see your shadow. I have heard, + Where many of the best respect in Rome, + Except immortal Caesar, speaking of Brutus + And groaning underneath this age's yoke, + Have wish'd that noble Brutus had his eyes. + +BRUTUS Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, + That you would have me seek into myself + For that which is not in me? + +CASSIUS Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared to hear: + And since you know you cannot see yourself + So well as by reflection, I, your glass, + Will modestly discover to yourself + That of yourself which you yet know not of. + And be not jealous on me, gentle Brutus: + Were I a common laugher, or did use + To stale with ordinary oaths my love + To every new protester; if you know + That I do fawn on men and hug them hard + And after scandal them, or if you know + That I profess myself in banqueting + To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. + + [Flourish, and shout] + +BRUTUS What means this shouting? I do fear, the people + Choose Caesar for their king. + +CASSIUS Ay, do you fear it? + Then must I think you would not have it so. + +BRUTUS I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well. + But wherefore do you hold me here so long? + What is it that you would impart to me? + If it be aught toward the general good, + Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, + And I will look on both indifferently, + For let the gods so speed me as I love + The name of honour more than I fear death. + +CASSIUS I know that virtue to be in you, Brutus, + As well as I do know your outward favour. + Well, honour is the subject of my story. + I cannot tell what you and other men + Think of this life; but, for my single self, + I had as lief not be as live to be + In awe of such a thing as I myself. + I was born free as Caesar; so were you: + We both have fed as well, and we can both + Endure the winter's cold as well as he: + For once, upon a raw and gusty day, + The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, + Caesar said to me 'Darest thou, Cassius, now + Leap in with me into this angry flood, + And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, + Accoutred as I was, I plunged in + And bade him follow; so indeed he did. + The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it + With lusty sinews, throwing it aside + And stemming it with hearts of controversy; + But ere we could arrive the point proposed, + Caesar cried 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!' + I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor, + Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder + The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber + Did I the tired Caesar. And this man + Is now become a god, and Cassius is + A wretched creature and must bend his body, + If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. + He had a fever when he was in Spain, + And when the fit was on him, I did mark + How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake; + His coward lips did from their colour fly, + And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world + Did lose his lustre: I did hear him groan: + Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans + Mark him and write his speeches in their books, + Alas, it cried 'Give me some drink, Titinius,' + As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me + A man of such a feeble temper should + So get the start of the majestic world + And bear the palm alone. + + [Shout. Flourish] + +BRUTUS Another general shout! + I do believe that these applauses are + For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. + +CASSIUS Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world + Like a Colossus, and we petty men + Walk under his huge legs and peep about + To find ourselves dishonourable graves. + Men at some time are masters of their fates: + The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, + But in ourselves, that we are underlings. + Brutus and Caesar: what should be in that 'Caesar'? + Why should that name be sounded more than yours? + Write them together, yours is as fair a name; + Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; + Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, + Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. + Now, in the names of all the gods at once, + Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, + That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed! + Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! + When went there by an age, since the great flood, + But it was famed with more than with one man? + When could they say till now, that talk'd of Rome, + That her wide walls encompass'd but one man? + Now is it Rome indeed and room enough, + When there is in it but one only man. + O, you and I have heard our fathers say, + There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd + The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome + As easily as a king. + +BRUTUS That you do love me, I am nothing jealous; + What you would work me to, I have some aim: + How I have thought of this and of these times, + I shall recount hereafter; for this present, + I would not, so with love I might entreat you, + Be any further moved. What you have said + I will consider; what you have to say + I will with patience hear, and find a time + Both meet to hear and answer such high things. + Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this: + Brutus had rather be a villager + Than to repute himself a son of Rome + Under these hard conditions as this time + Is like to lay upon us. + +CASSIUS I am glad that my weak words + Have struck but thus much show of fire from Brutus. + +BRUTUS The games are done and Caesar is returning. + +CASSIUS As they pass by, pluck Casca by the sleeve; + And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you + What hath proceeded worthy note to-day. + + [Re-enter CAESAR and his Train] + +BRUTUS I will do so. But, look you, Cassius, + The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, + And all the rest look like a chidden train: + Calpurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero + Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes + As we have seen him in the Capitol, + Being cross'd in conference by some senators. + +CASSIUS Casca will tell us what the matter is. + +CAESAR Antonius! + +ANTONY Caesar? + +CAESAR Let me have men about me that are fat; + Sleek-headed men and such as sleep o' nights: + Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; + He thinks too much: such men are dangerous. + +ANTONY Fear him not, Caesar; he's not dangerous; + He is a noble Roman and well given. + +CAESAR Would he were fatter! But I fear him not: + Yet if my name were liable to fear, + I do not know the man I should avoid + So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; + He is a great observer and he looks + Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, + As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; + Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort + As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit + That could be moved to smile at any thing. + Such men as he be never at heart's ease + Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, + And therefore are they very dangerous. + I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd + Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar. + Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf, + And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. + + [Sennet. Exeunt CAESAR and all his Train, but CASCA] + +CASCA You pull'd me by the cloak; would you speak with me? + +BRUTUS Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced to-day, + That Caesar looks so sad. + +CASCA Why, you were with him, were you not? + +BRUTUS I should not then ask Casca what had chanced. + +CASCA Why, there was a crown offered him: and being + offered him, he put it by with the back of his hand, + thus; and then the people fell a-shouting. + +BRUTUS What was the second noise for? + +CASCA Why, for that too. + +CASSIUS They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? + +CASCA Why, for that too. + +BRUTUS Was the crown offered him thrice? + +CASCA Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every + time gentler than other, and at every putting-by + mine honest neighbours shouted. + +CASSIUS Who offered him the crown? + +CASCA Why, Antony. + +BRUTUS Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. + +CASCA I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: + it was mere foolery; I did not mark it. I saw Mark + Antony offer him a crown;--yet 'twas not a crown + neither, 'twas one of these coronets;--and, as I told + you, he put it by once: but, for all that, to my + thinking, he would fain have had it. Then he + offered it to him again; then he put it by again: + but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his + fingers off it. And then he offered it the third + time; he put it the third time by: and still as he + refused it, the rabblement hooted and clapped their + chapped hands and threw up their sweaty night-caps + and uttered such a deal of stinking breath because + Caesar refused the crown that it had almost choked + Caesar; for he swounded and fell down at it: and + for mine own part, I durst not laugh, for fear of + opening my lips and receiving the bad air. + +CASSIUS But, soft, I pray you: what, did Caesar swound? + +CASCA He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at + mouth, and was speechless. + +BRUTUS 'Tis very like: he hath the failing sickness. + +CASSIUS No, Caesar hath it not; but you and I, + And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. + +CASCA I know not what you mean by that; but, I am sure, + Caesar fell down. If the tag-rag people did not + clap him and hiss him, according as he pleased and + displeased them, as they use to do the players in + the theatre, I am no true man. + +BRUTUS What said he when he came unto himself? + +CASCA Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the + common herd was glad he refused the crown, he + plucked me ope his doublet and offered them his + throat to cut. An I had been a man of any + occupation, if I would not have taken him at a word, + I would I might go to hell among the rogues. And so + he fell. When he came to himself again, he said, + If he had done or said any thing amiss, he desired + their worships to think it was his infirmity. Three + or four wenches, where I stood, cried 'Alas, good + soul!' and forgave him with all their hearts: but + there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had + stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less. + +BRUTUS And after that, he came, thus sad, away? + +CASCA Ay. + +CASSIUS Did Cicero say any thing? + +CASCA Ay, he spoke Greek. + +CASSIUS To what effect? + +CASCA Nay, an I tell you that, Ill ne'er look you i' the + face again: but those that understood him smiled at + one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own + part, it was Greek to me. I could tell you more + news too: Marullus and Flavius, for pulling scarfs + off Caesar's images, are put to silence. Fare you + well. There was more foolery yet, if I could + remember it. + +CASSIUS Will you sup with me to-night, Casca? + +CASCA No, I am promised forth. + +CASSIUS Will you dine with me to-morrow? + +CASCA Ay, if I be alive and your mind hold and your dinner + worth the eating. + +CASSIUS Good: I will expect you. + +CASCA Do so. Farewell, both. + + [Exit] + +BRUTUS What a blunt fellow is this grown to be! + He was quick mettle when he went to school. + +CASSIUS So is he now in execution + Of any bold or noble enterprise, + However he puts on this tardy form. + This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, + Which gives men stomach to digest his words + With better appetite. + +BRUTUS And so it is. For this time I will leave you: + To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, + I will come home to you; or, if you will, + Come home to me, and I will wait for you. + +CASSIUS I will do so: till then, think of the world. + + [Exit BRUTUS] + + Well, Brutus, thou art noble; yet, I see, + Thy honourable metal may be wrought + From that it is disposed: therefore it is meet + That noble minds keep ever with their likes; + For who so firm that cannot be seduced? + Caesar doth bear me hard; but he loves Brutus: + If I were Brutus now and he were Cassius, + He should not humour me. I will this night, + In several hands, in at his windows throw, + As if they came from several citizens, + Writings all tending to the great opinion + That Rome holds of his name; wherein obscurely + Caesar's ambition shall be glanced at: + And after this let Caesar seat him sure; + For we will shake him, or worse days endure. + + [Exit] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The same. A street. + + + + + [Thunder and lightning. Enter from opposite sides, + CASCA, with his sword drawn, and CICERO] + +CICERO Good even, Casca: brought you Caesar home? + Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? + +CASCA Are not you moved, when all the sway of earth + Shakes like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, + I have seen tempests, when the scolding winds + Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen + The ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam, + To be exalted with the threatening clouds: + But never till to-night, never till now, + Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. + Either there is a civil strife in heaven, + Or else the world, too saucy with the gods, + Incenses them to send destruction. + +CICERO Why, saw you any thing more wonderful? + +CASCA A common slave--you know him well by sight-- + Held up his left hand, which did flame and burn + Like twenty torches join'd, and yet his hand, + Not sensible of fire, remain'd unscorch'd. + Besides--I ha' not since put up my sword-- + Against the Capitol I met a lion, + Who glared upon me, and went surly by, + Without annoying me: and there were drawn + Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, + Transformed with their fear; who swore they saw + Men all in fire walk up and down the streets. + And yesterday the bird of night did sit + Even at noon-day upon the market-place, + Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies + Do so conjointly meet, let not men say + 'These are their reasons; they are natural;' + For, I believe, they are portentous things + Unto the climate that they point upon. + +CICERO Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: + But men may construe things after their fashion, + Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. + Come Caesar to the Capitol to-morrow? + +CASCA He doth; for he did bid Antonius + Send word to you he would be there to-morrow. + +CICERO Good night then, Casca: this disturbed sky + Is not to walk in. + +CASCA Farewell, Cicero. + + [Exit CICERO] + + [Enter CASSIUS] + +CASSIUS Who's there? + +CASCA A Roman. + +CASSIUS Casca, by your voice. + +CASCA Your ear is good. Cassius, what night is this! + +CASSIUS A very pleasing night to honest men. + +CASCA Who ever knew the heavens menace so? + +CASSIUS Those that have known the earth so full of faults. + For my part, I have walk'd about the streets, + Submitting me unto the perilous night, + And, thus unbraced, Casca, as you see, + Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone; + And when the cross blue lightning seem'd to open + The breast of heaven, I did present myself + Even in the aim and very flash of it. + +CASCA But wherefore did you so much tempt the heavens? + It is the part of men to fear and tremble, + When the most mighty gods by tokens send + Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. + +CASSIUS You are dull, Casca, and those sparks of life + That should be in a Roman you do want, + Or else you use not. You look pale and gaze + And put on fear and cast yourself in wonder, + To see the strange impatience of the heavens: + But if you would consider the true cause + Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts, + Why birds and beasts from quality and kind, + Why old men fool and children calculate, + Why all these things change from their ordinance + Their natures and preformed faculties + To monstrous quality,--why, you shall find + That heaven hath infused them with these spirits, + To make them instruments of fear and warning + Unto some monstrous state. + Now could I, Casca, name to thee a man + Most like this dreadful night, + That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and roars + As doth the lion in the Capitol, + A man no mightier than thyself or me + In personal action, yet prodigious grown + And fearful, as these strange eruptions are. + +CASCA 'Tis Caesar that you mean; is it not, Cassius? + +CASSIUS Let it be who it is: for Romans now + Have thews and limbs like to their ancestors; + But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are dead, + And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; + Our yoke and sufferance show us womanish. + +CASCA Indeed, they say the senators tomorrow + Mean to establish Caesar as a king; + And he shall wear his crown by sea and land, + In every place, save here in Italy. + +CASSIUS I know where I will wear this dagger then; + Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: + Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong; + Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: + Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, + Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, + Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; + But life, being weary of these worldly bars, + Never lacks power to dismiss itself. + If I know this, know all the world besides, + That part of tyranny that I do bear + I can shake off at pleasure. + + [Thunder still] + +CASCA So can I: + So every bondman in his own hand bears + The power to cancel his captivity. + +CASSIUS And why should Caesar be a tyrant then? + Poor man! I know he would not be a wolf, + But that he sees the Romans are but sheep: + He were no lion, were not Romans hinds. + Those that with haste will make a mighty fire + Begin it with weak straws: what trash is Rome, + What rubbish and what offal, when it serves + For the base matter to illuminate + So vile a thing as Caesar! But, O grief, + Where hast thou led me? I perhaps speak this + Before a willing bondman; then I know + My answer must be made. But I am arm'd, + And dangers are to me indifferent. + +CASCA You speak to Casca, and to such a man + That is no fleering tell-tale. Hold, my hand: + Be factious for redress of all these griefs, + And I will set this foot of mine as far + As who goes farthest. + +CASSIUS There's a bargain made. + Now know you, Casca, I have moved already + Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans + To undergo with me an enterprise + Of honourable-dangerous consequence; + And I do know, by this, they stay for me + In Pompey's porch: for now, this fearful night, + There is no stir or walking in the streets; + And the complexion of the element + In favour's like the work we have in hand, + Most bloody, fiery, and most terrible. + +CASCA Stand close awhile, for here comes one in haste. + +CASSIUS 'Tis Cinna; I do know him by his gait; + He is a friend. + + [Enter CINNA] + + Cinna, where haste you so? + +CINNA To find out you. Who's that? Metellus Cimber? + +CASSIUS No, it is Casca; one incorporate + To our attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna? + +CINNA I am glad on 't. What a fearful night is this! + There's two or three of us have seen strange sights. + +CASSIUS Am I not stay'd for? tell me. + +CINNA Yes, you are. + O Cassius, if you could + But win the noble Brutus to our party-- + +CASSIUS Be you content: good Cinna, take this paper, + And look you lay it in the praetor's chair, + Where Brutus may but find it; and throw this + In at his window; set this up with wax + Upon old Brutus' statue: all this done, + Repair to Pompey's porch, where you shall find us. + Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? + +CINNA All but Metellus Cimber; and he's gone + To seek you at your house. Well, I will hie, + And so bestow these papers as you bade me. + +CASSIUS That done, repair to Pompey's theatre. + + [Exit CINNA] + + Come, Casca, you and I will yet ere day + See Brutus at his house: three parts of him + Is ours already, and the man entire + Upon the next encounter yields him ours. + +CASCA O, he sits high in all the people's hearts: + And that which would appear offence in us, + His countenance, like richest alchemy, + Will change to virtue and to worthiness. + +CASSIUS Him and his worth and our great need of him + You have right well conceited. Let us go, + For it is after midnight; and ere day + We will awake him and be sure of him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Rome. BRUTUS's orchard. + + + [Enter BRUTUS] + +BRUTUS What, Lucius, ho! + I cannot, by the progress of the stars, + Give guess how near to day. Lucius, I say! + I would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. + When, Lucius, when? awake, I say! what, Lucius! + + [Enter LUCIUS] + +LUCIUS Call'd you, my lord? + +BRUTUS Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: + When it is lighted, come and call me here. + +LUCIUS I will, my lord. + + [Exit] + +BRUTUS It must be by his death: and for my part, + I know no personal cause to spurn at him, + But for the general. He would be crown'd: + How that might change his nature, there's the question. + It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; + And that craves wary walking. Crown him?--that;-- + And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, + That at his will he may do danger with. + The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins + Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Caesar, + I have not known when his affections sway'd + More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, + That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, + Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; + But when he once attains the upmost round. + He then unto the ladder turns his back, + Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees + By which he did ascend. So Caesar may. + Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel + Will bear no colour for the thing he is, + Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, + Would run to these and these extremities: + And therefore think him as a serpent's egg + Which, hatch'd, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, + And kill him in the shell. + + [Re-enter LUCIUS] + +LUCIUS The taper burneth in your closet, sir. + Searching the window for a flint, I found + This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure, + It did not lie there when I went to bed. + + [Gives him the letter] + +BRUTUS Get you to bed again; it is not day. + Is not to-morrow, boy, the ides of March? + +LUCIUS I know not, sir. + +BRUTUS Look in the calendar, and bring me word. + +LUCIUS I will, sir. + + [Exit] + +BRUTUS The exhalations whizzing in the air + Give so much light that I may read by them. + + [Opens the letter and reads] + + 'Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself. + Shall Rome, &c. Speak, strike, redress! + Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake!' + Such instigations have been often dropp'd + Where I have took them up. + 'Shall Rome, &c.' Thus must I piece it out: + Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, Rome? + My ancestors did from the streets of Rome + The Tarquin drive, when he was call'd a king. + 'Speak, strike, redress!' Am I entreated + To speak and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise: + If the redress will follow, thou receivest + Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus! + + [Re-enter LUCIUS] + +LUCIUS Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. + + [Knocking within] + +BRUTUS 'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. + + [Exit LUCIUS] + + Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, + I have not slept. + Between the acting of a dreadful thing + And the first motion, all the interim is + Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: + The Genius and the mortal instruments + Are then in council; and the state of man, + Like to a little kingdom, suffers then + The nature of an insurrection. + + [Re-enter LUCIUS] + +LUCIUS Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, + Who doth desire to see you. + +BRUTUS Is he alone? + +LUCIUS No, sir, there are moe with him. + +BRUTUS Do you know them? + +LUCIUS No, sir; their hats are pluck'd about their ears, + And half their faces buried in their cloaks, + That by no means I may discover them + By any mark of favour. + +BRUTUS Let 'em enter. + + [Exit LUCIUS] + + They are the faction. O conspiracy, + Shamest thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, + When evils are most free? O, then by day + Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough + To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none, conspiracy; + Hide it in smiles and affability: + For if thou path, thy native semblance on, + Not Erebus itself were dim enough + To hide thee from prevention. + + [Enter the conspirators, CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS + BRUTUS, CINNA, METELLUS CIMBER, and TREBONIUS] + +CASSIUS I think we are too bold upon your rest: + Good morrow, Brutus; do we trouble you? + +BRUTUS I have been up this hour, awake all night. + Know I these men that come along with you? + +CASSIUS Yes, every man of them, and no man here + But honours you; and every one doth wish + You had but that opinion of yourself + Which every noble Roman bears of you. + This is Trebonius. + +BRUTUS He is welcome hither. + +CASSIUS This, Decius Brutus. + +BRUTUS He is welcome too. + +CASSIUS This, Casca; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cimber. + +BRUTUS They are all welcome. + What watchful cares do interpose themselves + Betwixt your eyes and night? + +CASSIUS Shall I entreat a word? + + [BRUTUS and CASSIUS whisper] + +DECIUS BRUTUS Here lies the east: doth not the day break here? + +CASCA No. + +CINNA O, pardon, sir, it doth; and yon gray lines + That fret the clouds are messengers of day. + +CASCA You shall confess that you are both deceived. + Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises, + Which is a great way growing on the south, + Weighing the youthful season of the year. + Some two months hence up higher toward the north + He first presents his fire; and the high east + Stands, as the Capitol, directly here. + +BRUTUS Give me your hands all over, one by one. + +CASSIUS And let us swear our resolution. + +BRUTUS No, not an oath: if not the face of men, + The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,-- + If these be motives weak, break off betimes, + And every man hence to his idle bed; + So let high-sighted tyranny range on, + Till each man drop by lottery. But if these, + As I am sure they do, bear fire enough + To kindle cowards and to steel with valour + The melting spirits of women, then, countrymen, + What need we any spur but our own cause, + To prick us to redress? what other bond + Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word, + And will not palter? and what other oath + Than honesty to honesty engaged, + That this shall be, or we will fall for it? + Swear priests and cowards and men cautelous, + Old feeble carrions and such suffering souls + That welcome wrongs; unto bad causes swear + Such creatures as men doubt; but do not stain + The even virtue of our enterprise, + Nor the insuppressive mettle of our spirits, + To think that or our cause or our performance + Did need an oath; when every drop of blood + That every Roman bears, and nobly bears, + Is guilty of a several bastardy, + If he do break the smallest particle + Of any promise that hath pass'd from him. + +CASSIUS But what of Cicero? shall we sound him? + I think he will stand very strong with us. + +CASCA Let us not leave him out. + +CINNA No, by no means. + +METELLUS CIMBER O, let us have him, for his silver hairs + Will purchase us a good opinion + And buy men's voices to commend our deeds: + It shall be said, his judgment ruled our hands; + Our youths and wildness shall no whit appear, + But all be buried in his gravity. + +BRUTUS O, name him not: let us not break with him; + For he will never follow any thing + That other men begin. + +CASSIUS Then leave him out. + +CASCA Indeed he is not fit. + +DECIUS BRUTUS Shall no man else be touch'd but only Caesar? + +CASSIUS Decius, well urged: I think it is not meet, + Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, + Should outlive Caesar: we shall find of him + A shrewd contriver; and, you know, his means, + If he improve them, may well stretch so far + As to annoy us all: which to prevent, + Let Antony and Caesar fall together. + +BRUTUS Our course will seem too bloody, Caius Cassius, + To cut the head off and then hack the limbs, + Like wrath in death and envy afterwards; + For Antony is but a limb of Caesar: + Let us be sacrificers, but not butchers, Caius. + We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar; + And in the spirit of men there is no blood: + O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, + And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, + Caesar must bleed for it! And, gentle friends, + Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; + Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, + Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds: + And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, + Stir up their servants to an act of rage, + And after seem to chide 'em. This shall make + Our purpose necessary and not envious: + Which so appearing to the common eyes, + We shall be call'd purgers, not murderers. + And for Mark Antony, think not of him; + For he can do no more than Caesar's arm + When Caesar's head is off. + +CASSIUS Yet I fear him; + For in the ingrafted love he bears to Caesar-- + +BRUTUS Alas, good Cassius, do not think of him: + If he love Caesar, all that he can do + Is to himself, take thought and die for Caesar: + And that were much he should; for he is given + To sports, to wildness and much company. + +TREBONIUS There is no fear in him; let him not die; + For he will live, and laugh at this hereafter. + + [Clock strikes] + +BRUTUS Peace! count the clock. + +CASSIUS The clock hath stricken three. + +TREBONIUS 'Tis time to part. + +CASSIUS But it is doubtful yet, + Whether Caesar will come forth to-day, or no; + For he is superstitious grown of late, + Quite from the main opinion he held once + Of fantasy, of dreams and ceremonies: + It may be, these apparent prodigies, + The unaccustom'd terror of this night, + And the persuasion of his augurers, + May hold him from the Capitol to-day. + +DECIUS BRUTUS Never fear that: if he be so resolved, + I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear + That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, + And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, + Lions with toils and men with flatterers; + But when I tell him he hates flatterers, + He says he does, being then most flattered. + Let me work; + For I can give his humour the true bent, + And I will bring him to the Capitol. + +CASSIUS Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch him. + +BRUTUS By the eighth hour: is that the uttermost? + +CINNA Be that the uttermost, and fail not then. + +METELLUS CIMBER Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, + Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey: + I wonder none of you have thought of him. + +BRUTUS Now, good Metellus, go along by him: + He loves me well, and I have given him reasons; + Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. + +CASSIUS The morning comes upon 's: we'll leave you, Brutus. + And, friends, disperse yourselves; but all remember + What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans. + +BRUTUS Good gentlemen, look fresh and merrily; + Let not our looks put on our purposes, + But bear it as our Roman actors do, + With untired spirits and formal constancy: + And so good morrow to you every one. + + [Exeunt all but BRUTUS] + + Boy! Lucius! Fast asleep? It is no matter; + Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: + Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, + Which busy care draws in the brains of men; + Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. + + [Enter PORTIA] + +PORTIA Brutus, my lord! + +BRUTUS Portia, what mean you? wherefore rise you now? + It is not for your health thus to commit + Your weak condition to the raw cold morning. + +PORTIA Nor for yours neither. You've ungently, Brutus, + Stole from my bed: and yesternight, at supper, + You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, + Musing and sighing, with your arms across, + And when I ask'd you what the matter was, + You stared upon me with ungentle looks; + I urged you further; then you scratch'd your head, + And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot; + Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, + But, with an angry wafture of your hand, + Gave sign for me to leave you: so I did; + Fearing to strengthen that impatience + Which seem'd too much enkindled, and withal + Hoping it was but an effect of humour, + Which sometime hath his hour with every man. + It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, + And could it work so much upon your shape + As it hath much prevail'd on your condition, + I should not know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, + Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. + +BRUTUS I am not well in health, and that is all. + +PORTIA Brutus is wise, and, were he not in health, + He would embrace the means to come by it. + +BRUTUS Why, so I do. Good Portia, go to bed. + +PORTIA Is Brutus sick? and is it physical + To walk unbraced and suck up the humours + Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, + And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, + To dare the vile contagion of the night + And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air + To add unto his sickness? No, my Brutus; + You have some sick offence within your mind, + Which, by the right and virtue of my place, + I ought to know of: and, upon my knees, + I charm you, by my once-commended beauty, + By all your vows of love and that great vow + Which did incorporate and make us one, + That you unfold to me, yourself, your half, + Why you are heavy, and what men to-night + Have had to resort to you: for here have been + Some six or seven, who did hide their faces + Even from darkness. + +BRUTUS Kneel not, gentle Portia. + +PORTIA I should not need, if you were gentle Brutus. + Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutus, + Is it excepted I should know no secrets + That appertain to you? Am I yourself + But, as it were, in sort or limitation, + To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, + And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs + Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, + Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. + +BRUTUS You are my true and honourable wife, + As dear to me as are the ruddy drops + That visit my sad heart + +PORTIA If this were true, then should I know this secret. + I grant I am a woman; but withal + A woman that Lord Brutus took to wife: + I grant I am a woman; but withal + A woman well-reputed, Cato's daughter. + Think you I am no stronger than my sex, + Being so father'd and so husbanded? + Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose 'em: + I have made strong proof of my constancy, + Giving myself a voluntary wound + Here, in the thigh: can I bear that with patience. + And not my husband's secrets? + +BRUTUS O ye gods, + + Render me worthy of this noble wife! + + [Knocking within] + + Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in awhile; + And by and by thy bosom shall partake + The secrets of my heart. + All my engagements I will construe to thee, + All the charactery of my sad brows: + Leave me with haste. + + [Exit PORTIA] + + Lucius, who's that knocks? + + [Re-enter LUCIUS with LIGARIUS] + +LUCIUS He is a sick man that would speak with you. + +BRUTUS Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. + Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius! how? + +LIGARIUS Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue. + +BRUTUS O, what a time have you chose out, brave Caius, + To wear a kerchief! Would you were not sick! + +LIGARIUS I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand + Any exploit worthy the name of honour. + +BRUTUS Such an exploit have I in hand, Ligarius, + Had you a healthful ear to hear of it. + +LIGARIUS By all the gods that Romans bow before, + I here discard my sickness! Soul of Rome! + Brave son, derived from honourable loins! + Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up + My mortified spirit. Now bid me run, + And I will strive with things impossible; + Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? + +BRUTUS A piece of work that will make sick men whole. + +LIGARIUS But are not some whole that we must make sick? + +BRUTUS That must we also. What it is, my Caius, + I shall unfold to thee, as we are going + To whom it must be done. + +LIGARIUS Set on your foot, + And with a heart new-fired I follow you, + To do I know not what: but it sufficeth + That Brutus leads me on. + +BRUTUS Follow me, then. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II CAESAR's house. + + + [Thunder and lightning. Enter CAESAR, in his + night-gown] + +CAESAR Nor heaven nor earth have been at peace to-night: + Thrice hath Calpurnia in her sleep cried out, + 'Help, ho! they murder Caesar!' Who's within? + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant My lord? + +CAESAR Go bid the priests do present sacrifice + And bring me their opinions of success. + +Servant I will, my lord. + + [Exit] + + [Enter CALPURNIA] + +CALPURNIA What mean you, Caesar? think you to walk forth? + You shall not stir out of your house to-day. + +CAESAR Caesar shall forth: the things that threaten'd me + Ne'er look'd but on my back; when they shall see + The face of Caesar, they are vanished. + +CALPURNIA Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies, + Yet now they fright me. There is one within, + Besides the things that we have heard and seen, + Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. + A lioness hath whelped in the streets; + And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead; + Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds, + In ranks and squadrons and right form of war, + Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol; + The noise of battle hurtled in the air, + Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan, + And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets. + O Caesar! these things are beyond all use, + And I do fear them. + +CAESAR What can be avoided + Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? + Yet Caesar shall go forth; for these predictions + Are to the world in general as to Caesar. + +CALPURNIA When beggars die, there are no comets seen; + The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. + +CAESAR Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come when it will come. + + [Re-enter Servant] + + What say the augurers? + +Servant They would not have you to stir forth to-day. + Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, + They could not find a heart within the beast. + +CAESAR The gods do this in shame of cowardice: + Caesar should be a beast without a heart, + If he should stay at home to-day for fear. + No, Caesar shall not: danger knows full well + That Caesar is more dangerous than he: + We are two lions litter'd in one day, + And I the elder and more terrible: + And Caesar shall go forth. + +CALPURNIA Alas, my lord, + Your wisdom is consumed in confidence. + Do not go forth to-day: call it my fear + That keeps you in the house, and not your own. + We'll send Mark Antony to the senate-house: + And he shall say you are not well to-day: + Let me, upon my knee, prevail in this. + +CAESAR Mark Antony shall say I am not well, + And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. + + [Enter DECIUS BRUTUS] + + Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. + +DECIUS BRUTUS Caesar, all hail! good morrow, worthy Caesar: + I come to fetch you to the senate-house. + +CAESAR And you are come in very happy time, + To bear my greeting to the senators + And tell them that I will not come to-day: + Cannot, is false, and that I dare not, falser: + I will not come to-day: tell them so, Decius. + +CALPURNIA Say he is sick. + +CAESAR Shall Caesar send a lie? + Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, + To be afraid to tell graybeards the truth? + Decius, go tell them Caesar will not come. + +DECIUS BRUTUS Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, + Lest I be laugh'd at when I tell them so. + +CAESAR The cause is in my will: I will not come; + That is enough to satisfy the senate. + But for your private satisfaction, + Because I love you, I will let you know: + Calpurnia here, my wife, stays me at home: + She dreamt to-night she saw my statua, + Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, + Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans + Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it: + And these does she apply for warnings, and portents, + And evils imminent; and on her knee + Hath begg'd that I will stay at home to-day. + +DECIUS BRUTUS This dream is all amiss interpreted; + It was a vision fair and fortunate: + Your statue spouting blood in many pipes, + In which so many smiling Romans bathed, + Signifies that from you great Rome shall suck + Reviving blood, and that great men shall press + For tinctures, stains, relics and cognizance. + This by Calpurnia's dream is signified. + +CAESAR And this way have you well expounded it. + +DECIUS BRUTUS I have, when you have heard what I can say: + And know it now: the senate have concluded + To give this day a crown to mighty Caesar. + If you shall send them word you will not come, + Their minds may change. Besides, it were a mock + Apt to be render'd, for some one to say + 'Break up the senate till another time, + When Caesar's wife shall meet with better dreams.' + If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper + 'Lo, Caesar is afraid'? + Pardon me, Caesar; for my dear dear love + To our proceeding bids me tell you this; + And reason to my love is liable. + +CAESAR How foolish do your fears seem now, Calpurnia! + I am ashamed I did yield to them. + Give me my robe, for I will go. + + [Enter PUBLIUS, BRUTUS, LIGARIUS, METELLUS, CASCA, + TREBONIUS, and CINNA] + + And look where Publius is come to fetch me. + +PUBLIUS Good morrow, Caesar. + +CAESAR Welcome, Publius. + What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too? + Good morrow, Casca. Caius Ligarius, + Caesar was ne'er so much your enemy + As that same ague which hath made you lean. + What is 't o'clock? + +BRUTUS Caesar, 'tis strucken eight. + +CAESAR I thank you for your pains and courtesy. + + [Enter ANTONY] + + See! Antony, that revels long o' nights, + Is notwithstanding up. Good morrow, Antony. + +ANTONY So to most noble Caesar. + +CAESAR Bid them prepare within: + I am to blame to be thus waited for. + Now, Cinna: now, Metellus: what, Trebonius! + I have an hour's talk in store for you; + Remember that you call on me to-day: + Be near me, that I may remember you. + +TREBONIUS Caesar, I will: + + [Aside] + + and so near will I be, + That your best friends shall wish I had been further. + +CAESAR Good friends, go in, and taste some wine with me; + And we, like friends, will straightway go together. + +BRUTUS [Aside] That every like is not the same, O Caesar, + The heart of Brutus yearns to think upon! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A street near the Capitol. + + + [Enter ARTEMIDORUS, reading a paper] + +ARTEMIDORUS 'Caesar, beware of Brutus; take heed of Cassius; + come not near Casca; have an eye to Cinna, trust not + Trebonius: mark well Metellus Cimber: Decius Brutus + loves thee not: thou hast wronged Caius Ligarius. + There is but one mind in all these men, and it is + bent against Caesar. If thou beest not immortal, + look about you: security gives way to conspiracy. + The mighty gods defend thee! Thy lover, + 'ARTEMIDORUS.' + Here will I stand till Caesar pass along, + And as a suitor will I give him this. + My heart laments that virtue cannot live + Out of the teeth of emulation. + If thou read this, O Caesar, thou mayst live; + If not, the Fates with traitors do contrive. + + [Exit] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the same street, before the house of BRUTUS. + + + [Enter PORTIA and LUCIUS] + +PORTIA I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house; + Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone: + Why dost thou stay? + +LUCIUS To know my errand, madam. + +PORTIA I would have had thee there, and here again, + Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do there. + O constancy, be strong upon my side, + Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! + I have a man's mind, but a woman's might. + How hard it is for women to keep counsel! + Art thou here yet? + +LUCIUS Madam, what should I do? + Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? + And so return to you, and nothing else? + +PORTIA Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, + For he went sickly forth: and take good note + What Caesar doth, what suitors press to him. + Hark, boy! what noise is that? + +LUCIUS I hear none, madam. + +PORTIA Prithee, listen well; + I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, + And the wind brings it from the Capitol. + +LUCIUS Sooth, madam, I hear nothing. + + [Enter the Soothsayer] + +PORTIA Come hither, fellow: which way hast thou been? + +Soothsayer At mine own house, good lady. + +PORTIA What is't o'clock? + +Soothsayer About the ninth hour, lady. + +PORTIA Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol? + +Soothsayer Madam, not yet: I go to take my stand, + To see him pass on to the Capitol. + +PORTIA Thou hast some suit to Caesar, hast thou not? + +Soothsayer That I have, lady: if it will please Caesar + To be so good to Caesar as to hear me, + I shall beseech him to befriend himself. + +PORTIA Why, know'st thou any harm's intended towards him? + +Soothsayer None that I know will be, much that I fear may chance. + Good morrow to you. Here the street is narrow: + The throng that follows Caesar at the heels, + Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, + Will crowd a feeble man almost to death: + I'll get me to a place more void, and there + Speak to great Caesar as he comes along. + + [Exit] + +PORTIA I must go in. Ay me, how weak a thing + The heart of woman is! O Brutus, + The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise! + Sure, the boy heard me: Brutus hath a suit + That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint. + Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; + Say I am merry: come to me again, + And bring me word what he doth say to thee. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Rome. Before the Capitol; the Senate sitting above. + + + [A crowd of people; among them ARTEMIDORUS and the + Soothsayer. Flourish. Enter CAESAR, BRUTUS, + CASSIUS, CASCA, DECIUS BRUTUS, METELLUS CIMBER, + TREBONIUS, CINNA, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POPILIUS, + PUBLIUS, and others] + +CAESAR [To the Soothsayer] The ides of March are come. + +Soothsayer Ay, Caesar; but not gone. + +ARTEMIDORUS Hail, Caesar! read this schedule. + +DECIUS BRUTUS Trebonius doth desire you to o'erread, + At your best leisure, this his humble suit. + +ARTEMIDORUS O Caesar, read mine first; for mine's a suit + That touches Caesar nearer: read it, great Caesar. + +CAESAR What touches us ourself shall be last served. + +ARTEMIDORUS Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. + +CAESAR What, is the fellow mad? + +PUBLIUS Sirrah, give place. + +CASSIUS What, urge you your petitions in the street? + Come to the Capitol. + + [CAESAR goes up to the Senate-House, the rest + following] + +POPILIUS I wish your enterprise to-day may thrive. + +CASSIUS What enterprise, Popilius? + +POPILIUS Fare you well. + + [Advances to CAESAR] + +BRUTUS What said Popilius Lena? + +CASSIUS He wish'd to-day our enterprise might thrive. + I fear our purpose is discovered. + +BRUTUS Look, how he makes to Caesar; mark him. + +CASSIUS Casca, be sudden, for we fear prevention. + Brutus, what shall be done? If this be known, + Cassius or Caesar never shall turn back, + For I will slay myself. + +BRUTUS Cassius, be constant: + Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes; + For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not change. + +CASSIUS Trebonius knows his time; for, look you, Brutus. + He draws Mark Antony out of the way. + + [Exeunt ANTONY and TREBONIUS] + +DECIUS BRUTUS Where is Metellus Cimber? Let him go, + And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. + +BRUTUS He is address'd: press near and second him. + +CINNA Casca, you are the first that rears your hand. + +CAESAR Are we all ready? What is now amiss + That Caesar and his senate must redress? + +METELLUS CIMBER Most high, most mighty, and most puissant Caesar, + Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat + An humble heart,-- + + [Kneeling] + +CAESAR I must prevent thee, Cimber. + These couchings and these lowly courtesies + Might fire the blood of ordinary men, + And turn pre-ordinance and first decree + Into the law of children. Be not fond, + To think that Caesar bears such rebel blood + That will be thaw'd from the true quality + With that which melteth fools; I mean, sweet words, + Low-crooked court'sies and base spaniel-fawning. + Thy brother by decree is banished: + If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him, + I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. + Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause + Will he be satisfied. + +METELLUS CIMBER Is there no voice more worthy than my own + To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear + For the repealing of my banish'd brother? + +BRUTUS I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar; + Desiring thee that Publius Cimber may + Have an immediate freedom of repeal. + +CAESAR What, Brutus! + +CASSIUS Pardon, Caesar; Caesar, pardon: + As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, + To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. + +CASSIUS I could be well moved, if I were as you: + If I could pray to move, prayers would move me: + But I am constant as the northern star, + Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality + There is no fellow in the firmament. + The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, + They are all fire and every one doth shine, + But there's but one in all doth hold his place: + So in the world; 'tis furnish'd well with men, + And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive; + Yet in the number I do know but one + That unassailable holds on his rank, + Unshaked of motion: and that I am he, + Let me a little show it, even in this; + That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, + And constant do remain to keep him so. + +CINNA O Caesar,-- + +CAESAR Hence! wilt thou lift up Olympus? + +DECIUS BRUTUS Great Caesar,-- + +CAESAR Doth not Brutus bootless kneel? + +CASCA Speak, hands for me! + + [CASCA first, then the other Conspirators and + BRUTUS stab CAESAR] + +CAESAR Et tu, Brute! Then fall, Caesar. + + [Dies] + +CINNA Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! + Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. + +CASSIUS Some to the common pulpits, and cry out + 'Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement!' + +BRUTUS People and senators, be not affrighted; + Fly not; stand stiff: ambition's debt is paid. + +CASCA Go to the pulpit, Brutus. + +DECIUS BRUTUS And Cassius too. + +BRUTUS Where's Publius? + +CINNA Here, quite confounded with this mutiny. + +METELLUS CIMBER Stand fast together, lest some friend of Caesar's + Should chance-- + +BRUTUS Talk not of standing. Publius, good cheer; + There is no harm intended to your person, + Nor to no Roman else: so tell them, Publius. + +CASSIUS And leave us, Publius; lest that the people, + Rushing on us, should do your age some mischief. + +BRUTUS Do so: and let no man abide this deed, + But we the doers. + + [Re-enter TREBONIUS] + +CASSIUS Where is Antony? + +TREBONIUS Fled to his house amazed: + Men, wives and children stare, cry out and run + As it were doomsday. + +BRUTUS Fates, we will know your pleasures: + That we shall die, we know; 'tis but the time + And drawing days out, that men stand upon. + +CASSIUS Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life + Cuts off so many years of fearing death. + +BRUTUS Grant that, and then is death a benefit: + So are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged + His time of fearing death. Stoop, Romans, stoop, + And let us bathe our hands in Caesar's blood + Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: + Then walk we forth, even to the market-place, + And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads, + Let's all cry 'Peace, freedom and liberty!' + +CASSIUS Stoop, then, and wash. How many ages hence + Shall this our lofty scene be acted over + In states unborn and accents yet unknown! + +BRUTUS How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, + That now on Pompey's basis lies along + No worthier than the dust! + +CASSIUS So oft as that shall be, + So often shall the knot of us be call'd + The men that gave their country liberty. + +DECIUS BRUTUS What, shall we forth? + +CASSIUS Ay, every man away: + Brutus shall lead; and we will grace his heels + With the most boldest and best hearts of Rome. + + [Enter a Servant] + +BRUTUS Soft! who comes here? A friend of Antony's. + +Servant Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me kneel: + Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down; + And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say: + Brutus is noble, wise, valiant, and honest; + Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving: + Say I love Brutus, and I honour him; + Say I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him and loved him. + If Brutus will vouchsafe that Antony + May safely come to him, and be resolved + How Caesar hath deserved to lie in death, + Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead + So well as Brutus living; but will follow + The fortunes and affairs of noble Brutus + Thorough the hazards of this untrod state + With all true faith. So says my master Antony. + +BRUTUS Thy master is a wise and valiant Roman; + I never thought him worse. + Tell him, so please him come unto this place, + He shall be satisfied; and, by my honour, + Depart untouch'd. + +Servant I'll fetch him presently. + + [Exit] + +BRUTUS I know that we shall have him well to friend. + +CASSIUS I wish we may: but yet have I a mind + That fears him much; and my misgiving still + Falls shrewdly to the purpose. + +BRUTUS But here comes Antony. + + [Re-enter ANTONY] + + Welcome, Mark Antony. + +ANTONY O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low? + Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, + Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well. + I know not, gentlemen, what you intend, + Who else must be let blood, who else is rank: + If I myself, there is no hour so fit + As Caesar's death hour, nor no instrument + Of half that worth as those your swords, made rich + With the most noble blood of all this world. + I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, + Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke, + Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, + I shall not find myself so apt to die: + No place will please me so, no mean of death, + As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, + The choice and master spirits of this age. + +BRUTUS O Antony, beg not your death of us. + Though now we must appear bloody and cruel, + As, by our hands and this our present act, + You see we do, yet see you but our hands + And this the bleeding business they have done: + Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful; + And pity to the general wrong of Rome-- + As fire drives out fire, so pity pity-- + Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, + To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony: + Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts + Of brothers' temper, do receive you in + With all kind love, good thoughts, and reverence. + +CASSIUS Your voice shall be as strong as any man's + In the disposing of new dignities. + +BRUTUS Only be patient till we have appeased + The multitude, beside themselves with fear, + And then we will deliver you the cause, + Why I, that did love Caesar when I struck him, + Have thus proceeded. + +ANTONY I doubt not of your wisdom. + Let each man render me his bloody hand: + First, Marcus Brutus, will I shake with you; + Next, Caius Cassius, do I take your hand; + Now, Decius Brutus, yours: now yours, Metellus; + Yours, Cinna; and, my valiant Casca, yours; + Though last, not last in love, yours, good Trebonius. + Gentlemen all,--alas, what shall I say? + My credit now stands on such slippery ground, + That one of two bad ways you must conceit me, + Either a coward or a flatterer. + That I did love thee, Caesar, O, 'tis true: + If then thy spirit look upon us now, + Shall it not grieve thee dearer than thy death, + To see thy thy Anthony making his peace, + Shaking the bloody fingers of thy foes, + Most noble! in the presence of thy corse? + Had I as many eyes as thou hast wounds, + Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy blood, + It would become me better than to close + In terms of friendship with thine enemies. + Pardon me, Julius! Here wast thou bay'd, brave hart; + Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters stand, + Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. + O world, thou wast the forest to this hart; + And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. + How like a deer, strucken by many princes, + Dost thou here lie! + +CASSIUS Mark Antony,-- + +ANTONY Pardon me, Caius Cassius: + The enemies of Caesar shall say this; + Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. + +CASSIUS I blame you not for praising Caesar so; + But what compact mean you to have with us? + Will you be prick'd in number of our friends; + Or shall we on, and not depend on you? + +ANTONY Therefore I took your hands, but was, indeed, + Sway'd from the point, by looking down on Caesar. + Friends am I with you all and love you all, + Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons + Why and wherein Caesar was dangerous. + +BRUTUS Or else were this a savage spectacle: + Our reasons are so full of good regard + That were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, + You should be satisfied. + +ANTONY That's all I seek: + And am moreover suitor that I may + Produce his body to the market-place; + And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend, + Speak in the order of his funeral. + +BRUTUS You shall, Mark Antony. + +CASSIUS Brutus, a word with you. + + [Aside to BRUTUS] + + You know not what you do: do not consent + That Antony speak in his funeral: + Know you how much the people may be moved + By that which he will utter? + +BRUTUS By your pardon; + I will myself into the pulpit first, + And show the reason of our Caesar's death: + What Antony shall speak, I will protest + He speaks by leave and by permission, + And that we are contented Caesar shall + Have all true rites and lawful ceremonies. + It shall advantage more than do us wrong. + +CASSIUS I know not what may fall; I like it not. + +BRUTUS Mark Antony, here, take you Caesar's body. + You shall not in your funeral speech blame us, + But speak all good you can devise of Caesar, + And say you do't by our permission; + Else shall you not have any hand at all + About his funeral: and you shall speak + In the same pulpit whereto I am going, + After my speech is ended. + +ANTONY Be it so. + I do desire no more. + +BRUTUS Prepare the body then, and follow us. + + [Exeunt all but ANTONY] + +ANTONY O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, + That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! + Thou art the ruins of the noblest man + That ever lived in the tide of times. + Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! + Over thy wounds now do I prophesy,-- + Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, + To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue-- + A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; + Domestic fury and fierce civil strife + Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; + Blood and destruction shall be so in use + And dreadful objects so familiar + That mothers shall but smile when they behold + Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; + All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: + And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, + With Ate by his side come hot from hell, + Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice + Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war; + That this foul deed shall smell above the earth + With carrion men, groaning for burial. + + [Enter a Servant] + + You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? + +Servant I do, Mark Antony. + +ANTONY Caesar did write for him to come to Rome. + +Servant He did receive his letters, and is coming; + And bid me say to you by word of mouth-- + O Caesar!-- + + [Seeing the body] + +ANTONY Thy heart is big, get thee apart and weep. + Passion, I see, is catching; for mine eyes, + Seeing those beads of sorrow stand in thine, + Began to water. Is thy master coming? + +Servant He lies to-night within seven leagues of Rome. + +ANTONY Post back with speed, and tell him what hath chanced: + Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, + No Rome of safety for Octavius yet; + Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, stay awhile; + Thou shalt not back till I have borne this corse + Into the market-place: there shall I try + In my oration, how the people take + The cruel issue of these bloody men; + According to the which, thou shalt discourse + To young Octavius of the state of things. + Lend me your hand. + + [Exeunt with CAESAR's body] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The Forum. + + + [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS, and a throng of Citizens] + +Citizens We will be satisfied; let us be satisfied. + +BRUTUS Then follow me, and give me audience, friends. + Cassius, go you into the other street, + And part the numbers. + Those that will hear me speak, let 'em stay here; + Those that will follow Cassius, go with him; + And public reasons shall be rendered + Of Caesar's death. + +First Citizen I will hear Brutus speak. + +Second Citizen I will hear Cassius; and compare their reasons, + When severally we hear them rendered. + + [Exit CASSIUS, with some of the Citizens. BRUTUS + goes into the pulpit] + +Third Citizen The noble Brutus is ascended: silence! + +BRUTUS Be patient till the last. + + Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my + cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me + for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that + you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and + awake your senses, that you may the better judge. + If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of + Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar + was no less than his. If then that friend demand + why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: + --Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved + Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and + die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live + all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; + as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was + valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I + slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his + fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his + ambition. Who is here so base that would be a + bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. + Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If + any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so + vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; + for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. + +All None, Brutus, none. + +BRUTUS Then none have I offended. I have done no more to + Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. The question of + his death is enrolled in the Capitol; his glory not + extenuated, wherein he was worthy, nor his offences + enforced, for which he suffered death. + + [Enter ANTONY and others, with CAESAR's body] + + Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony: who, + though he had no hand in his death, shall receive + the benefit of his dying, a place in the + commonwealth; as which of you shall not? With this + I depart,--that, as I slew my best lover for the + good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, + when it shall please my country to need my death. + +All Live, Brutus! live, live! + +First Citizen Bring him with triumph home unto his house. + +Second Citizen Give him a statue with his ancestors. + +Third Citizen Let him be Caesar. + +Fourth Citizen Caesar's better parts + Shall be crown'd in Brutus. + +First Citizen We'll bring him to his house + With shouts and clamours. + +BRUTUS My countrymen,-- + +Second Citizen Peace, silence! Brutus speaks. + +First Citizen Peace, ho! + +BRUTUS Good countrymen, let me depart alone, + And, for my sake, stay here with Antony: + Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his speech + Tending to Caesar's glories; which Mark Antony, + By our permission, is allow'd to make. + I do entreat you, not a man depart, + Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. + + [Exit] + +First Citizen Stay, ho! and let us hear Mark Antony. + +Third Citizen Let him go up into the public chair; + We'll hear him. Noble Antony, go up. + +ANTONY For Brutus' sake, I am beholding to you. + + [Goes into the pulpit] + +Fourth Citizen What does he say of Brutus? + +Third Citizen He says, for Brutus' sake, + He finds himself beholding to us all. + +Fourth Citizen 'Twere best he speak no harm of Brutus here. + +First Citizen This Caesar was a tyrant. + +Third Citizen Nay, that's certain: + We are blest that Rome is rid of him. + +Second Citizen Peace! let us hear what Antony can say. + +ANTONY You gentle Romans,-- + +Citizens Peace, ho! let us hear him. + +ANTONY Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; + I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. + The evil that men do lives after them; + The good is oft interred with their bones; + So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus + Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: + If it were so, it was a grievous fault, + And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. + Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-- + For Brutus is an honourable man; + So are they all, all honourable men-- + Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. + He was my friend, faithful and just to me: + But Brutus says he was ambitious; + And Brutus is an honourable man. + He hath brought many captives home to Rome + Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: + Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? + When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: + Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; + And Brutus is an honourable man. + You all did see that on the Lupercal + I thrice presented him a kingly crown, + Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition? + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; + And, sure, he is an honourable man. + I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, + But here I am to speak what I do know. + You all did love him once, not without cause: + What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? + O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, + And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; + My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, + And I must pause till it come back to me. + +First Citizen Methinks there is much reason in his sayings. + +Second Citizen If thou consider rightly of the matter, + Caesar has had great wrong. + +Third Citizen Has he, masters? + I fear there will a worse come in his place. + +Fourth Citizen Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; + Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious. + +First Citizen If it be found so, some will dear abide it. + +Second Citizen Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping. + +Third Citizen There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony. + +Fourth Citizen Now mark him, he begins again to speak. + +ANTONY But yesterday the word of Caesar might + Have stood against the world; now lies he there. + And none so poor to do him reverence. + O masters, if I were disposed to stir + Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, + I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, + Who, you all know, are honourable men: + I will not do them wrong; I rather choose + To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, + Than I will wrong such honourable men. + But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar; + I found it in his closet, 'tis his will: + Let but the commons hear this testament-- + Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read-- + And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds + And dip their napkins in his sacred blood, + Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, + And, dying, mention it within their wills, + Bequeathing it as a rich legacy + Unto their issue. + +Fourth Citizen We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. + +All The will, the will! we will hear Caesar's will. + +ANTONY Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; + It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. + You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; + And, being men, bearing the will of Caesar, + It will inflame you, it will make you mad: + 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; + For, if you should, O, what would come of it! + +Fourth Citizen Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony; + You shall read us the will, Caesar's will. + +ANTONY Will you be patient? will you stay awhile? + I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it: + I fear I wrong the honourable men + Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it. + +Fourth Citizen They were traitors: honourable men! + +All The will! the testament! + +Second Citizen They were villains, murderers: the will! read the will. + +ANTONY You will compel me, then, to read the will? + Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, + And let me show you him that made the will. + Shall I descend? and will you give me leave? + +Several Citizens Come down. + +Second Citizen Descend. + +Third Citizen You shall have leave. + + [ANTONY comes down] + +Fourth Citizen A ring; stand round. + +First Citizen Stand from the hearse, stand from the body. + +Second Citizen Room for Antony, most noble Antony. + +ANTONY Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off. + +Several Citizens Stand back; room; bear back. + +ANTONY If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. + You all do know this mantle: I remember + The first time ever Caesar put it on; + 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, + That day he overcame the Nervii: + Look, in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: + See what a rent the envious Casca made: + Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; + And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, + Mark how the blood of Caesar follow'd it, + As rushing out of doors, to be resolved + If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; + For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: + Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! + This was the most unkindest cut of all; + For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, + Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, + Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; + And, in his mantle muffling up his face, + Even at the base of Pompey's statua, + Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. + O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! + Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, + Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. + O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel + The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. + Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold + Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, + Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. + +First Citizen O piteous spectacle! + +Second Citizen O noble Caesar! + +Third Citizen O woful day! + +Fourth Citizen O traitors, villains! + +First Citizen O most bloody sight! + +Second Citizen We will be revenged. + +All Revenge! About! Seek! Burn! Fire! Kill! Slay! + Let not a traitor live! + +ANTONY Stay, countrymen. + +First Citizen Peace there! hear the noble Antony. + +Second Citizen We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. + +ANTONY Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up + To such a sudden flood of mutiny. + They that have done this deed are honourable: + What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, + That made them do it: they are wise and honourable, + And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. + I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: + I am no orator, as Brutus is; + But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, + That love my friend; and that they know full well + That gave me public leave to speak of him: + For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, + Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, + To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; + I tell you that which you yourselves do know; + Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, + And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, + And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony + Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue + In every wound of Caesar that should move + The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. + +All We'll mutiny. + +First Citizen We'll burn the house of Brutus. + +Third Citizen Away, then! come, seek the conspirators. + +ANTONY Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear me speak. + +All Peace, ho! Hear Antony. Most noble Antony! + +ANTONY Why, friends, you go to do you know not what: + Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? + Alas, you know not: I must tell you then: + You have forgot the will I told you of. + +All Most true. The will! Let's stay and hear the will. + +ANTONY Here is the will, and under Caesar's seal. + To every Roman citizen he gives, + To every several man, seventy-five drachmas. + +Second Citizen Most noble Caesar! We'll revenge his death. + +Third Citizen O royal Caesar! + +ANTONY Hear me with patience. + +All Peace, ho! + +ANTONY Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, + His private arbours and new-planted orchards, + On this side Tiber; he hath left them you, + And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, + To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. + Here was a Caesar! when comes such another? + +First Citizen Never, never. Come, away, away! + We'll burn his body in the holy place, + And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. + Take up the body. + +Second Citizen Go fetch fire. + +Third Citizen Pluck down benches. + +Fourth Citizen Pluck down forms, windows, any thing. + + [Exeunt Citizens with the body] + +ANTONY Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, + Take thou what course thou wilt! + + [Enter a Servant] + + How now, fellow! + +Servant Sir, Octavius is already come to Rome. + +ANTONY Where is he? + +Servant He and Lepidus are at Caesar's house. + +ANTONY And thither will I straight to visit him: + He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry, + And in this mood will give us any thing. + +Servant I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius + Are rid like madmen through the gates of Rome. + +ANTONY Belike they had some notice of the people, + How I had moved them. Bring me to Octavius. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A street. + + + [Enter CINNA the poet] + +CINNA THE POET I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar, + And things unlucky charge my fantasy: + I have no will to wander forth of doors, + Yet something leads me forth. + + [Enter Citizens] + +First Citizen What is your name? + +Second Citizen Whither are you going? + +Third Citizen Where do you dwell? + +Fourth Citizen Are you a married man or a bachelor? + +Second Citizen Answer every man directly. + +First Citizen Ay, and briefly. + +Fourth Citizen Ay, and wisely. + +Third Citizen Ay, and truly, you were best. + +CINNA THE POET What is my name? Whither am I going? Where do I + dwell? Am I a married man or a bachelor? Then, to + answer every man directly and briefly, wisely and + truly: wisely I say, I am a bachelor. + +Second Citizen That's as much as to say, they are fools that marry: + you'll bear me a bang for that, I fear. Proceed; directly. + +CINNA THE POET Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. + +First Citizen As a friend or an enemy? + +CINNA THE POET As a friend. + +Second Citizen That matter is answered directly. + +Fourth Citizen For your dwelling,--briefly. + +CINNA THE POET Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. + +Third Citizen Your name, sir, truly. + +CINNA THE POET Truly, my name is Cinna. + +First Citizen Tear him to pieces; he's a conspirator. + +CINNA THE POET I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the poet. + +Fourth Citizen Tear him for his bad verses, tear him for his bad verses. + +CINNA THE POET I am not Cinna the conspirator. + +Fourth Citizen It is no matter, his name's Cinna; pluck but his + name out of his heart, and turn him going. + +Third Citizen Tear him, tear him! Come, brands ho! fire-brands: + to Brutus', to Cassius'; burn all: some to Decius' + house, and some to Casca's; some to Ligarius': away, go! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A house in Rome. + + + [ANTONY, OCTAVIUS, and LEPIDUS, seated at a table] + +ANTONY These many, then, shall die; their names are prick'd. + +OCTAVIUS Your brother too must die; consent you, Lepidus? + +LEPIDUS I do consent-- + +OCTAVIUS Prick him down, Antony. + +LEPIDUS Upon condition Publius shall not live, + Who is your sister's son, Mark Antony. + +ANTONY He shall not live; look, with a spot I damn him. + But, Lepidus, go you to Caesar's house; + Fetch the will hither, and we shall determine + How to cut off some charge in legacies. + +LEPIDUS What, shall I find you here? + +OCTAVIUS Or here, or at the Capitol. + + [Exit LEPIDUS] + +ANTONY This is a slight unmeritable man, + Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit, + The three-fold world divided, he should stand + One of the three to share it? + +OCTAVIUS So you thought him; + And took his voice who should be prick'd to die, + In our black sentence and proscription. + +ANTONY Octavius, I have seen more days than you: + And though we lay these honours on this man, + To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, + He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold, + To groan and sweat under the business, + Either led or driven, as we point the way; + And having brought our treasure where we will, + Then take we down his load, and turn him off, + Like to the empty ass, to shake his ears, + And graze in commons. + +OCTAVIUS You may do your will; + But he's a tried and valiant soldier. + +ANTONY So is my horse, Octavius; and for that + I do appoint him store of provender: + It is a creature that I teach to fight, + To wind, to stop, to run directly on, + His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. + And, in some taste, is Lepidus but so; + He must be taught and train'd and bid go forth; + A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds + On abjects, orts and imitations, + Which, out of use and staled by other men, + Begin his fashion: do not talk of him, + But as a property. And now, Octavius, + Listen great things:--Brutus and Cassius + Are levying powers: we must straight make head: + Therefore let our alliance be combined, + Our best friends made, our means stretch'd + And let us presently go sit in council, + How covert matters may be best disclosed, + And open perils surest answered. + +OCTAVIUS Let us do so: for we are at the stake, + And bay'd about with many enemies; + And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, + Millions of mischiefs. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Camp near Sardis. Before BRUTUS's tent. + + + [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, LUCILIUS, LUCIUS, and + Soldiers; TITINIUS and PINDARUS meeting them] + +BRUTUS Stand, ho! + +LUCILIUS Give the word, ho! and stand. + +BRUTUS What now, Lucilius! is Cassius near? + +LUCILIUS He is at hand; and Pindarus is come + To do you salutation from his master. + +BRUTUS He greets me well. Your master, Pindarus, + In his own change, or by ill officers, + Hath given me some worthy cause to wish + Things done, undone: but, if he be at hand, + I shall be satisfied. + +PINDARUS I do not doubt + But that my noble master will appear + Such as he is, full of regard and honour. + +BRUTUS He is not doubted. A word, Lucilius; + How he received you, let me be resolved. + +LUCILIUS With courtesy and with respect enough; + But not with such familiar instances, + Nor with such free and friendly conference, + As he hath used of old. + +BRUTUS Thou hast described + A hot friend cooling: ever note, Lucilius, + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; + But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, + Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; + But when they should endure the bloody spur, + They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, + Sink in the trial. Comes his army on? + +LUCILIUS They mean this night in Sardis to be quarter'd; + The greater part, the horse in general, + Are come with Cassius. + +BRUTUS Hark! he is arrived. + + [Low march within] + + March gently on to meet him. + + [Enter CASSIUS and his powers] + +CASSIUS Stand, ho! + +BRUTUS Stand, ho! Speak the word along. + +First Soldier Stand! + +Second Soldier Stand! + +Third Soldier Stand! + +CASSIUS Most noble brother, you have done me wrong. + +BRUTUS Judge me, you gods! wrong I mine enemies? + And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother? + +CASSIUS Brutus, this sober form of yours hides wrongs; + And when you do them-- + +BRUTUS Cassius, be content. + Speak your griefs softly: I do know you well. + Before the eyes of both our armies here, + Which should perceive nothing but love from us, + Let us not wrangle: bid them move away; + Then in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs, + And I will give you audience. + +CASSIUS Pindarus, + Bid our commanders lead their charges off + A little from this ground. + +BRUTUS Lucilius, do you the like; and let no man + Come to our tent till we have done our conference. + Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Brutus's tent. + + + [Enter BRUTUS and CASSIUS] + +CASSIUS That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: + You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella + For taking bribes here of the Sardians; + Wherein my letters, praying on his side, + Because I knew the man, were slighted off. + +BRUTUS You wronged yourself to write in such a case. + +CASSIUS In such a time as this it is not meet + That every nice offence should bear his comment. + +BRUTUS Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself + Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; + To sell and mart your offices for gold + To undeservers. + +CASSIUS I an itching palm! + You know that you are Brutus that speak this, + Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. + +BRUTUS The name of Cassius honours this corruption, + And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. + +CASSIUS Chastisement! + +BRUTUS Remember March, the ides of March remember: + Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? + What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, + And not for justice? What, shall one of us + That struck the foremost man of all this world + But for supporting robbers, shall we now + Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, + And sell the mighty space of our large honours + For so much trash as may be grasped thus? + I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, + Than such a Roman. + +CASSIUS Brutus, bay not me; + I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, + To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, + Older in practise, abler than yourself + To make conditions. + +BRUTUS Go to; you are not, Cassius. + +CASSIUS I am. + +BRUTUS I say you are not. + +CASSIUS Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; + Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. + +BRUTUS Away, slight man! + +CASSIUS Is't possible? + +BRUTUS Hear me, for I will speak. + Must I give way and room to your rash choler? + Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? + +CASSIUS O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? + +BRUTUS All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; + Go show your slaves how choleric you are, + And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? + Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch + Under your testy humour? By the gods + You shall digest the venom of your spleen, + Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, + I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, + When you are waspish. + +CASSIUS Is it come to this? + +BRUTUS You say you are a better soldier: + Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, + And it shall please me well: for mine own part, + I shall be glad to learn of noble men. + +CASSIUS You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; + I said, an elder soldier, not a better: + Did I say 'better'? + +BRUTUS If you did, I care not. + +CASSIUS When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. + +BRUTUS Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. + +CASSIUS I durst not! + +BRUTUS No. + +CASSIUS What, durst not tempt him! + +BRUTUS For your life you durst not! + +CASSIUS Do not presume too much upon my love; + I may do that I shall be sorry for. + +BRUTUS You have done that you should be sorry for. + There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, + For I am arm'd so strong in honesty + That they pass by me as the idle wind, + Which I respect not. I did send to you + For certain sums of gold, which you denied me: + For I can raise no money by vile means: + By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, + And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring + From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash + By any indirection: I did send + To you for gold to pay my legions, + Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? + Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? + When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, + To lock such rascal counters from his friends, + Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; + Dash him to pieces! + +CASSIUS I denied you not. + +BRUTUS You did. + +CASSIUS I did not: he was but a fool that brought + My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: + A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, + But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. + +BRUTUS I do not, till you practise them on me. + +CASSIUS You love me not. + +BRUTUS I do not like your faults. + +CASSIUS A friendly eye could never see such faults. + +BRUTUS A flatterer's would not, though they do appear + As huge as high Olympus. + +CASSIUS Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, + Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, + For Cassius is aweary of the world; + Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; + Cheque'd like a bondman; all his faults observed, + Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, + To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep + My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, + And here my naked breast; within, a heart + Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: + If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; + I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: + Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, + When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better + Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. + +BRUTUS Sheathe your dagger: + Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; + Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. + O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb + That carries anger as the flint bears fire; + Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, + And straight is cold again. + +CASSIUS Hath Cassius lived + To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, + When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him? + +BRUTUS When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd too. + +CASSIUS Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. + +BRUTUS And my heart too. + +CASSIUS O Brutus! + +BRUTUS What's the matter? + +CASSIUS Have not you love enough to bear with me, + When that rash humour which my mother gave me + Makes me forgetful? + +BRUTUS Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, + When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, + He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. + +Poet [Within] Let me go in to see the generals; + There is some grudge between 'em, 'tis not meet + They be alone. + +LUCILIUS [Within] You shall not come to them. + +Poet [Within] Nothing but death shall stay me. + + [Enter Poet, followed by LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, and LUCIUS] + +CASSIUS How now! what's the matter? + +Poet For shame, you generals! what do you mean? + Love, and be friends, as two such men should be; + For I have seen more years, I'm sure, than ye. + +CASSIUS Ha, ha! how vilely doth this cynic rhyme! + +BRUTUS Get you hence, sirrah; saucy fellow, hence! + +CASSIUS Bear with him, Brutus; 'tis his fashion. + +BRUTUS I'll know his humour, when he knows his time: + What should the wars do with these jigging fools? + Companion, hence! + +CASSIUS Away, away, be gone. + + [Exit Poet] + +BRUTUS Lucilius and Titinius, bid the commanders + Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. + +CASSIUS And come yourselves, and bring Messala with you + Immediately to us. + + [Exeunt LUCILIUS and TITINIUS] + +BRUTUS Lucius, a bowl of wine! + + [Exit LUCIUS] + +CASSIUS I did not think you could have been so angry. + +BRUTUS O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. + +CASSIUS Of your philosophy you make no use, + If you give place to accidental evils. + +BRUTUS No man bears sorrow better. Portia is dead. + +CASSIUS Ha! Portia! + +BRUTUS She is dead. + +CASSIUS How 'scaped I killing when I cross'd you so? + O insupportable and touching loss! + Upon what sickness? + +BRUTUS Impatient of my absence, + And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony + Have made themselves so strong:--for with her death + That tidings came;--with this she fell distract, + And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. + +CASSIUS And died so? + +BRUTUS Even so. + +CASSIUS O ye immortal gods! + + [Re-enter LUCIUS, with wine and taper] + +BRUTUS Speak no more of her. Give me a bowl of wine. + In this I bury all unkindness, Cassius. + +CASSIUS My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge. + Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; + I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. + +BRUTUS Come in, Titinius! + + [Exit LUCIUS] + + [Re-enter TITINIUS, with MESSALA] + + Welcome, good Messala. + Now sit we close about this taper here, + And call in question our necessities. + +CASSIUS Portia, art thou gone? + +BRUTUS No more, I pray you. + Messala, I have here received letters, + That young Octavius and Mark Antony + Come down upon us with a mighty power, + Bending their expedition toward Philippi. + +MESSALA Myself have letters of the selfsame tenor. + +BRUTUS With what addition? + +MESSALA That by proscription and bills of outlawry, + Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, + Have put to death an hundred senators. + +BRUTUS Therein our letters do not well agree; + Mine speak of seventy senators that died + By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. + +CASSIUS Cicero one! + +MESSALA Cicero is dead, + And by that order of proscription. + Had you your letters from your wife, my lord? + +BRUTUS No, Messala. + +MESSALA Nor nothing in your letters writ of her? + +BRUTUS Nothing, Messala. + +MESSALA That, methinks, is strange. + +BRUTUS Why ask you? hear you aught of her in yours? + +MESSALA No, my lord. + +BRUTUS Now, as you are a Roman, tell me true. + +MESSALA Then like a Roman bear the truth I tell: + For certain she is dead, and by strange manner. + +BRUTUS Why, farewell, Portia. We must die, Messala: + With meditating that she must die once, + I have the patience to endure it now. + +MESSALA Even so great men great losses should endure. + +CASSIUS I have as much of this in art as you, + But yet my nature could not bear it so. + +BRUTUS Well, to our work alive. What do you think + Of marching to Philippi presently? + +CASSIUS I do not think it good. + +BRUTUS Your reason? + +CASSIUS This it is: + 'Tis better that the enemy seek us: + So shall he waste his means, weary his soldiers, + Doing himself offence; whilst we, lying still, + Are full of rest, defense, and nimbleness. + +BRUTUS Good reasons must, of force, give place to better. + The people 'twixt Philippi and this ground + Do stand but in a forced affection; + For they have grudged us contribution: + The enemy, marching along by them, + By them shall make a fuller number up, + Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encouraged; + From which advantage shall we cut him off, + If at Philippi we do face him there, + These people at our back. + +CASSIUS Hear me, good brother. + +BRUTUS Under your pardon. You must note beside, + That we have tried the utmost of our friends, + Our legions are brim-full, our cause is ripe: + The enemy increaseth every day; + We, at the height, are ready to decline. + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows and in miseries. + On such a full sea are we now afloat; + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + +CASSIUS Then, with your will, go on; + We'll along ourselves, and meet them at Philippi. + +BRUTUS The deep of night is crept upon our talk, + And nature must obey necessity; + Which we will niggard with a little rest. + There is no more to say? + +CASSIUS No more. Good night: + Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. + +BRUTUS Lucius! + + [Enter LUCIUS] + My gown. + + [Exit LUCIUS] + + Farewell, good Messala: + Good night, Titinius. Noble, noble Cassius, + Good night, and good repose. + +CASSIUS O my dear brother! + This was an ill beginning of the night: + Never come such division 'tween our souls! + Let it not, Brutus. + +BRUTUS Every thing is well. + +CASSIUS Good night, my lord. + +BRUTUS Good night, good brother. + + +TITINIUS | + | Good night, Lord Brutus. +MESSALA | + + +BRUTUS Farewell, every one. + + [Exeunt all but BRUTUS] + + [Re-enter LUCIUS, with the gown] + + Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument? + +LUCIUS Here in the tent. + +BRUTUS What, thou speak'st drowsily? + Poor knave, I blame thee not; thou art o'er-watch'd. + Call Claudius and some other of my men: + I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. + +LUCIUS Varro and Claudius! + + [Enter VARRO and CLAUDIUS] + +VARRO Calls my lord? + +BRUTUS I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent and sleep; + It may be I shall raise you by and by + On business to my brother Cassius. + +VARRO So please you, we will stand and watch your pleasure. + +BRUTUS I will not have it so: lie down, good sirs; + It may be I shall otherwise bethink me. + Look, Lucius, here's the book I sought for so; + I put it in the pocket of my gown. + + [VARRO and CLAUDIUS lie down] + +LUCIUS I was sure your lordship did not give it me. + +BRUTUS Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. + Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, + And touch thy instrument a strain or two? + +LUCIUS Ay, my lord, an't please you. + +BRUTUS It does, my boy: + I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing. + +LUCIUS It is my duty, sir. + +BRUTUS I should not urge thy duty past thy might; + I know young bloods look for a time of rest. + +LUCIUS I have slept, my lord, already. + +BRUTUS It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; + I will not hold thee long: if I do live, + I will be good to thee. + + [Music, and a song] + + This is a sleepy tune. O murderous slumber, + Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, + That plays thee music? Gentle knave, good night; + I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: + If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument; + I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night. + Let me see, let me see; is not the leaf turn'd down + Where I left reading? Here it is, I think. + + [Enter the Ghost of CAESAR] + + How ill this taper burns! Ha! who comes here? + I think it is the weakness of mine eyes + That shapes this monstrous apparition. + It comes upon me. Art thou any thing? + Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, + That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare? + Speak to me what thou art. + +GHOST Thy evil spirit, Brutus. + +BRUTUS Why comest thou? + +GHOST To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi. + +BRUTUS Well; then I shall see thee again? + +GHOST Ay, at Philippi. + +BRUTUS Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then. + + [Exit Ghost] + + Now I have taken heart thou vanishest: + Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with thee. + Boy, Lucius! Varro! Claudius! Sirs, awake! Claudius! + +LUCIUS The strings, my lord, are false. + +BRUTUS He thinks he still is at his instrument. + Lucius, awake! + +LUCIUS My lord? + +BRUTUS Didst thou dream, Lucius, that thou so criedst out? + +LUCIUS My lord, I do not know that I did cry. + +BRUTUS Yes, that thou didst: didst thou see any thing? + +LUCIUS Nothing, my lord. + +BRUTUS Sleep again, Lucius. Sirrah Claudius! + + [To VARRO] + + Fellow thou, awake! + +VARRO My lord? + +CLAUDIUS My lord? + +BRUTUS Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your sleep? + + +VARRO | + | Did we, my lord? +CLAUDIUS | + + +BRUTUS Ay: saw you any thing? + +VARRO No, my lord, I saw nothing. + +CLAUDIUS Nor I, my lord. + +BRUTUS Go and commend me to my brother Cassius; + Bid him set on his powers betimes before, + And we will follow. + + +VARRO | + | It shall be done, my lord. +CLAUDIUS | + + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The plains of Philippi. + + + [Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army] + +OCTAVIUS Now, Antony, our hopes are answered: + You said the enemy would not come down, + But keep the hills and upper regions; + It proves not so: their battles are at hand; + They mean to warn us at Philippi here, + Answering before we do demand of them. + +ANTONY Tut, I am in their bosoms, and I know + Wherefore they do it: they could be content + To visit other places; and come down + With fearful bravery, thinking by this face + To fasten in our thoughts that they have courage; + But 'tis not so. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Prepare you, generals: + The enemy comes on in gallant show; + Their bloody sign of battle is hung out, + And something to be done immediately. + +ANTONY Octavius, lead your battle softly on, + Upon the left hand of the even field. + +OCTAVIUS Upon the right hand I; keep thou the left. + +ANTONY Why do you cross me in this exigent? + +OCTAVIUS I do not cross you; but I will do so. + + [March] + + [Drum. Enter BRUTUS, CASSIUS, and their Army; + LUCILIUS, TITINIUS, MESSALA, and others] + +BRUTUS They stand, and would have parley. + +CASSIUS Stand fast, Titinius: we must out and talk. + +OCTAVIUS Mark Antony, shall we give sign of battle? + +ANTONY No, Caesar, we will answer on their charge. + Make forth; the generals would have some words. + +OCTAVIUS Stir not until the signal. + +BRUTUS Words before blows: is it so, countrymen? + +OCTAVIUS Not that we love words better, as you do. + +BRUTUS Good words are better than bad strokes, Octavius. + +ANTONY In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give good words: + Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart, + Crying 'Long live! hail, Caesar!' + +CASSIUS Antony, + The posture of your blows are yet unknown; + But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees, + And leave them honeyless. + +ANTONY Not stingless too. + +BRUTUS O, yes, and soundless too; + For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, + And very wisely threat before you sting. + +ANTONY Villains, you did not so, when your vile daggers + Hack'd one another in the sides of Caesar: + You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawn'd like hounds, + And bow'd like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet; + Whilst damned Casca, like a cur, behind + Struck Caesar on the neck. O you flatterers! + +CASSIUS Flatterers! Now, Brutus, thank yourself: + This tongue had not offended so to-day, + If Cassius might have ruled. + +OCTAVIUS Come, come, the cause: if arguing make us sweat, + The proof of it will turn to redder drops. Look; + I draw a sword against conspirators; + When think you that the sword goes up again? + Never, till Caesar's three and thirty wounds + Be well avenged; or till another Caesar + Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. + +BRUTUS Caesar, thou canst not die by traitors' hands, + Unless thou bring'st them with thee. + +OCTAVIUS So I hope; + I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. + +BRUTUS O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, + Young man, thou couldst not die more honourable. + +CASSIUS A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such honour, + Join'd with a masker and a reveller! + +ANTONY Old Cassius still! + +OCTAVIUS Come, Antony, away! + Defiance, traitors, hurl we in your teeth: + If you dare fight to-day, come to the field; + If not, when you have stomachs. + + [Exeunt OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, and their army] + +CASSIUS Why, now, blow wind, swell billow and swim bark! + The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. + +BRUTUS Ho, Lucilius! hark, a word with you. + +LUCILIUS [Standing forth] My lord? + + [BRUTUS and LUCILIUS converse apart] + +CASSIUS Messala! + +MESSALA [Standing forth] What says my general? + +CASSIUS Messala, + This is my birth-day; as this very day + Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Messala: + Be thou my witness that against my will, + As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set + Upon one battle all our liberties. + You know that I held Epicurus strong + And his opinion: now I change my mind, + And partly credit things that do presage. + Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign + Two mighty eagles fell, and there they perch'd, + Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hands; + Who to Philippi here consorted us: + This morning are they fled away and gone; + And in their steads do ravens, crows and kites, + Fly o'er our heads and downward look on us, + As we were sickly prey: their shadows seem + A canopy most fatal, under which + Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost. + +MESSALA Believe not so. + +CASSIUS I but believe it partly; + For I am fresh of spirit and resolved + To meet all perils very constantly. + +BRUTUS Even so, Lucilius. + +CASSIUS Now, most noble Brutus, + The gods to-day stand friendly, that we may, + Lovers in peace, lead on our days to age! + But since the affairs of men rest still incertain, + Let's reason with the worst that may befall. + If we do lose this battle, then is this + The very last time we shall speak together: + What are you then determined to do? + +BRUTUS Even by the rule of that philosophy + By which I did blame Cato for the death + Which he did give himself, I know not how, + But I do find it cowardly and vile, + For fear of what might fall, so to prevent + The time of life: arming myself with patience + To stay the providence of some high powers + That govern us below. + +CASSIUS Then, if we lose this battle, + You are contented to be led in triumph + Thorough the streets of Rome? + +BRUTUS No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman, + That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; + He bears too great a mind. But this same day + Must end that work the ides of March begun; + And whether we shall meet again I know not. + Therefore our everlasting farewell take: + For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! + If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; + If not, why then, this parting was well made. + +CASSIUS For ever, and for ever, farewell, Brutus! + If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed; + If not, 'tis true this parting was well made. + +BRUTUS Why, then, lead on. O, that a man might know + The end of this day's business ere it come! + But it sufficeth that the day will end, + And then the end is known. Come, ho! away! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The same. The field of battle. + + + [Alarum. Enter BRUTUS and MESSALA] + +BRUTUS Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give these bills + Unto the legions on the other side. + + [Loud alarum] + + Let them set on at once; for I perceive + But cold demeanor in Octavius' wing, + And sudden push gives them the overthrow. + Ride, ride, Messala: let them all come down. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Another part of the field. + + + [Alarums. Enter CASSIUS and TITINIUS] + +CASSIUS O, look, Titinius, look, the villains fly! + Myself have to mine own turn'd enemy: + This ensign here of mine was turning back; + I slew the coward, and did take it from him. + +TITINIUS O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too early; + Who, having some advantage on Octavius, + Took it too eagerly: his soldiers fell to spoil, + Whilst we by Antony are all enclosed. + + [Enter PINDARUS] + +PINDARUS Fly further off, my lord, fly further off; + Mark Antony is in your tents, my lord + Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, fly far off. + +CASSIUS This hill is far enough. Look, look, Titinius; + Are those my tents where I perceive the fire? + +TITINIUS They are, my lord. + +CASSIUS Titinius, if thou lovest me, + Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in him, + Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, + And here again; that I may rest assured + Whether yond troops are friend or enemy. + +TITINIUS I will be here again, even with a thought. + + [Exit] + +CASSIUS Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill; + My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, + And tell me what thou notest about the field. + + [PINDARUS ascends the hill] + + This day I breathed first: time is come round, + And where I did begin, there shall I end; + My life is run his compass. Sirrah, what news? + +PINDARUS [Above] O my lord! + +CASSIUS What news? + +PINDARUS [Above] Titinius is enclosed round about + With horsemen, that make to him on the spur; + Yet he spurs on. Now they are almost on him. + Now, Titinius! Now some light. O, he lights too. + He's ta'en. + + [Shout] + + And, hark! they shout for joy. + +CASSIUS Come down, behold no more. + O, coward that I am, to live so long, + To see my best friend ta'en before my face! + + [PINDARUS descends] + + Come hither, sirrah: + In Parthia did I take thee prisoner; + And then I swore thee, saving of thy life, + That whatsoever I did bid thee do, + Thou shouldst attempt it. Come now, keep thine oath; + Now be a freeman: and with this good sword, + That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom. + Stand not to answer: here, take thou the hilts; + And, when my face is cover'd, as 'tis now, + Guide thou the sword. + + [PINDARUS stabs him] + + Caesar, thou art revenged, + Even with the sword that kill'd thee. + + [Dies] + +PINDARUS So, I am free; yet would not so have been, + Durst I have done my will. O Cassius, + Far from this country Pindarus shall run, + Where never Roman shall take note of him. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter TITINIUS with MESSALA] + +MESSALA It is but change, Titinius; for Octavius + Is overthrown by noble Brutus' power, + As Cassius' legions are by Antony. + +TITINIUS These tidings will well comfort Cassius. + +MESSALA Where did you leave him? + +TITINIUS All disconsolate, + With Pindarus his bondman, on this hill. + +MESSALA Is not that he that lies upon the ground? + +TITINIUS He lies not like the living. O my heart! + +MESSALA Is not that he? + +TITINIUS No, this was he, Messala, + But Cassius is no more. O setting sun, + As in thy red rays thou dost sink to-night, + So in his red blood Cassius' day is set; + The sun of Rome is set! Our day is gone; + Clouds, dews, and dangers come; our deeds are done! + Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. + +MESSALA Mistrust of good success hath done this deed. + O hateful error, melancholy's child, + Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men + The things that are not? O error, soon conceived, + Thou never comest unto a happy birth, + But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee! + +TITINIUS What, Pindarus! where art thou, Pindarus? + +MESSALA Seek him, Titinius, whilst I go to meet + The noble Brutus, thrusting this report + Into his ears; I may say, thrusting it; + For piercing steel and darts envenomed + Shall be as welcome to the ears of Brutus + As tidings of this sight. + +TITINIUS Hie you, Messala, + And I will seek for Pindarus the while. + + [Exit MESSALA] + + Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? + Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they + Put on my brows this wreath of victory, + And bid me give it thee? Didst thou not hear their shouts? + Alas, thou hast misconstrued every thing! + But, hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; + Thy Brutus bid me give it thee, and I + Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, + And see how I regarded Caius Cassius. + By your leave, gods:--this is a Roman's part + Come, Cassius' sword, and find Titinius' heart. + + [Kills himself] + + [Alarum. Re-enter MESSALA, with BRUTUS, CATO, + STRATO, VOLUMNIUS, and LUCILIUS] + +BRUTUS Where, where, Messala, doth his body lie? + +MESSALA Lo, yonder, and Titinius mourning it. + +BRUTUS Titinius' face is upward. + +CATO He is slain. + +BRUTUS O Julius Caesar, thou art mighty yet! + Thy spirit walks abroad and turns our swords + In our own proper entrails. + + [Low alarums] + +CATO Brave Titinius! + Look, whether he have not crown'd dead Cassius! + +BRUTUS Are yet two Romans living such as these? + The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! + It is impossible that ever Rome + Should breed thy fellow. Friends, I owe more tears + To this dead man than you shall see me pay. + I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time. + Come, therefore, and to Thasos send his body: + His funerals shall not be in our camp, + Lest it discomfort us. Lucilius, come; + And come, young Cato; let us to the field. + Labeo and Flavius, set our battles on: + 'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night + We shall try fortune in a second fight. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the field. + + + [Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both armies; + then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others] + +BRUTUS Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads! + +CATO What bastard doth not? Who will go with me? + I will proclaim my name about the field: + I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! + A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; + I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! + +BRUTUS And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; + Brutus, my country's friend; know me for Brutus! + + [Exit] + +LUCILIUS O young and noble Cato, art thou down? + Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; + And mayst be honour'd, being Cato's son. + +First Soldier Yield, or thou diest. + +LUCILIUS Only I yield to die: + There is so much that thou wilt kill me straight; + + [Offering money] + + Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. + +First Soldier We must not. A noble prisoner! + +Second Soldier Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. + +First Soldier I'll tell the news. Here comes the general. + + [Enter ANTONY] + + Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. + +ANTONY Where is he? + +LUCILIUS Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough: + I dare assure thee that no enemy + Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: + The gods defend him from so great a shame! + When you do find him, or alive or dead, + He will be found like Brutus, like himself. + +ANTONY This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you, + A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe; + Give him all kindness: I had rather have + Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, + And see whether Brutus be alive or dead; + And bring us word unto Octavius' tent + How every thing is chanced. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + JULIUS CAESAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Another part of the field. + + + [Enter BRUTUS, DARDANIUS, CLITUS, STRATO, and + VOLUMNIUS] + +BRUTUS Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock. + +CLITUS Statilius show'd the torch-light, but, my lord, + He came not back: he is or ta'en or slain. + +BRUTUS Sit thee down, Clitus: slaying is the word; + It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus. + + [Whispers] + +CLITUS What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. + +BRUTUS Peace then! no words. + +CLITUS I'll rather kill myself. + +BRUTUS Hark thee, Dardanius. + + [Whispers] + +DARDANIUS Shall I do such a deed? + +CLITUS O Dardanius! + +DARDANIUS O Clitus! + +CLITUS What ill request did Brutus make to thee? + +DARDANIUS To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates. + +CLITUS Now is that noble vessel full of grief, + That it runs over even at his eyes. + +BRUTUS Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word. + +VOLUMNIUS What says my lord? + +BRUTUS Why, this, Volumnius: + The ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me + Two several times by night; at Sardis once, + And, this last night, here in Philippi fields: + I know my hour is come. + +VOLUMNIUS Not so, my lord. + +BRUTUS Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. + Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes; + Our enemies have beat us to the pit: + + [Low alarums] + + It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, + Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, + Thou know'st that we two went to school together: + Even for that our love of old, I prithee, + Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. + +VOLUMNIUS That's not an office for a friend, my lord. + + [Alarum still] + +CLITUS Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here. + +BRUTUS Farewell to you; and you; and you, Volumnius. + Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep; + Farewell to thee too, Strato. Countrymen, + My heart doth joy that yet in all my life + I found no man but he was true to me. + I shall have glory by this losing day + More than Octavius and Mark Antony + By this vile conquest shall attain unto. + So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue + Hath almost ended his life's history: + Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest, + That have but labour'd to attain this hour. + + [Alarum. Cry within, 'Fly, fly, fly!'] + +CLITUS Fly, my lord, fly. + +BRUTUS Hence! I will follow. + + [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS] + + I prithee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: + Thou art a fellow of a good respect; + Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: + Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, + While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? + +STRATO Give me your hand first. Fare you well, my lord. + +BRUTUS Farewell, good Strato. + + [Runs on his sword] + + Caesar, now be still: + I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. + + [Dies] + + [Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA, + LUCILIUS, and the army] + +OCTAVIUS What man is that? + +MESSALA My master's man. Strato, where is thy master? + +STRATO Free from the bondage you are in, Messala: + The conquerors can but make a fire of him; + For Brutus only overcame himself, + And no man else hath honour by his death. + +LUCILIUS So Brutus should be found. I thank thee, Brutus, + That thou hast proved Lucilius' saying true. + +OCTAVIUS All that served Brutus, I will entertain them. + Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? + +STRATO Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. + +OCTAVIUS Do so, good Messala. + +MESSALA How died my master, Strato? + +STRATO I held the sword, and he did run on it. + +MESSALA Octavius, then take him to follow thee, + That did the latest service to my master. + +ANTONY This was the noblest Roman of them all: + All the conspirators save only he + Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; + He only, in a general honest thought + And common good to all, made one of them. + His life was gentle, and the elements + So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up + And say to all the world 'This was a man!' + +OCTAVIUS According to his virtue let us use him, + With all respect and rites of burial. + Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, + Most like a soldier, order'd honourably. + So call the field to rest; and let's away, + To part the glories of this happy day. + + [Exeunt] + KING LEAR + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +LEAR king of Britain (KING LEAR:) + +KING OF FRANCE: + +DUKE OF BURGUNDY (BURGUNDY:) + +DUKE OF CORNWALL (CORNWALL:) + +DUKE OF ALBANY (ALBANY:) + +EARL OF KENT (KENT:) + +EARL OF GLOUCESTER (GLOUCESTER:) + +EDGAR son to Gloucester. + +EDMUND bastard son to Gloucester. + +CURAN a courtier. + +Old Man tenant to Gloucester. + +Doctor: + +Fool: + +OSWALD steward to Goneril. + + A Captain employed by Edmund. (Captain:) + + Gentleman attendant on Cordelia. (Gentleman:) + A Herald. + + Servants to Cornwall. + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + (Third Servant:) + + +GONERIL | + | +REGAN | daughters to Lear. + | +CORDELIA | + + + Knights of Lear's train, Captains, Messengers, + Soldiers, and Attendants + (Knight:) + (Captain:) + (Messenger:) + + + +SCENE Britain. + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I King Lear's palace. + + + [Enter KENT, GLOUCESTER, and EDMUND] + +KENT I thought the king had more affected the Duke of + Albany than Cornwall. + +GLOUCESTER It did always seem so to us: but now, in the + division of the kingdom, it appears not which of + the dukes he values most; for equalities are so + weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice + of either's moiety. + +KENT Is not this your son, my lord? + +GLOUCESTER His breeding, sir, hath been at my charge: I have + so often blushed to acknowledge him, that now I am + brazed to it. + +KENT I cannot conceive you. + +GLOUCESTER Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon + she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son + for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. + Do you smell a fault? + +KENT I cannot wish the fault undone, the issue of it + being so proper. + +GLOUCESTER But I have, sir, a son by order of law, some year + elder than this, who yet is no dearer in my account: + though this knave came something saucily into the + world before he was sent for, yet was his mother + fair; there was good sport at his making, and the + whoreson must be acknowledged. Do you know this + noble gentleman, Edmund? + +EDMUND No, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER My lord of Kent: remember him hereafter as my + honourable friend. + +EDMUND My services to your lordship. + +KENT I must love you, and sue to know you better. + +EDMUND Sir, I shall study deserving. + +GLOUCESTER He hath been out nine years, and away he shall + again. The king is coming. + + [Sennet. Enter KING LEAR, CORNWALL, ALBANY, + GONERIL, REGAN, CORDELIA, and Attendants] + +KING LEAR Attend the lords of France and Burgundy, Gloucester. + +GLOUCESTER I shall, my liege. + + [Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EDMUND] + +KING LEAR Meantime we shall express our darker purpose. + Give me the map there. Know that we have divided + In three our kingdom: and 'tis our fast intent + To shake all cares and business from our age; + Conferring them on younger strengths, while we + Unburthen'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, + And you, our no less loving son of Albany, + We have this hour a constant will to publish + Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife + May be prevented now. The princes, France and Burgundy, + Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love, + Long in our court have made their amorous sojourn, + And here are to be answer'd. Tell me, my daughters,-- + Since now we will divest us both of rule, + Interest of territory, cares of state,-- + Which of you shall we say doth love us most? + That we our largest bounty may extend + Where nature doth with merit challenge. Goneril, + Our eldest-born, speak first. + +GONERIL Sir, I love you more than words can wield the matter; + Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty; + Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare; + No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour; + As much as child e'er loved, or father found; + A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable; + Beyond all manner of so much I love you. + +CORDELIA [Aside] What shall Cordelia do? + Love, and be silent. + +LEAR Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, + With shadowy forests and with champains rich'd, + With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads, + We make thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue + Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter, + Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. + +REGAN Sir, I am made + Of the self-same metal that my sister is, + And prize me at her worth. In my true heart + I find she names my very deed of love; + Only she comes too short: that I profess + Myself an enemy to all other joys, + Which the most precious square of sense possesses; + And find I am alone felicitate + In your dear highness' love. + +CORDELIA [Aside] Then poor Cordelia! + And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's + More richer than my tongue. + +KING LEAR To thee and thine hereditary ever + Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; + No less in space, validity, and pleasure, + Than that conferr'd on Goneril. Now, our joy, + Although the last, not least; to whose young love + The vines of France and milk of Burgundy + Strive to be interess'd; what can you say to draw + A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. + +CORDELIA Nothing, my lord. + +KING LEAR Nothing! + +CORDELIA Nothing. + +KING LEAR Nothing will come of nothing: speak again. + +CORDELIA Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave + My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty + According to my bond; nor more nor less. + +KING LEAR How, how, Cordelia! mend your speech a little, + Lest it may mar your fortunes. + +CORDELIA Good my lord, + You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I + Return those duties back as are right fit, + Obey you, love you, and most honour you. + Why have my sisters husbands, if they say + They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, + That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry + Half my love with him, half my care and duty: + Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, + To love my father all. + +KING LEAR But goes thy heart with this? + +CORDELIA Ay, good my lord. + +KING LEAR So young, and so untender? + +CORDELIA So young, my lord, and true. + +KING LEAR Let it be so; thy truth, then, be thy dower: + For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, + The mysteries of Hecate, and the night; + By all the operation of the orbs + From whom we do exist, and cease to be; + Here I disclaim all my paternal care, + Propinquity and property of blood, + And as a stranger to my heart and me + Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian, + Or he that makes his generation messes + To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom + Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved, + As thou my sometime daughter. + +KENT Good my liege,-- + +KING LEAR Peace, Kent! + Come not between the dragon and his wrath. + I loved her most, and thought to set my rest + On her kind nursery. Hence, and avoid my sight! + So be my grave my peace, as here I give + Her father's heart from her! Call France; who stirs? + Call Burgundy. Cornwall and Albany, + With my two daughters' dowers digest this third: + Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. + I do invest you jointly with my power, + Pre-eminence, and all the large effects + That troop with majesty. Ourself, by monthly course, + With reservation of an hundred knights, + By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode + Make with you by due turns. Only we still retain + The name, and all the additions to a king; + The sway, revenue, execution of the rest, + Beloved sons, be yours: which to confirm, + This coronet part betwixt you. + + [Giving the crown] + +KENT Royal Lear, + Whom I have ever honour'd as my king, + Loved as my father, as my master follow'd, + As my great patron thought on in my prayers,-- + +KING LEAR The bow is bent and drawn, make from the shaft. + +KENT Let it fall rather, though the fork invade + The region of my heart: be Kent unmannerly, + When Lear is mad. What wilt thou do, old man? + Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak, + When power to flattery bows? To plainness honour's bound, + When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy doom; + And, in thy best consideration, cheque + This hideous rashness: answer my life my judgment, + Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; + Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound + Reverbs no hollowness. + +KING LEAR Kent, on thy life, no more. + +KENT My life I never held but as a pawn + To wage against thy enemies; nor fear to lose it, + Thy safety being the motive. + +KING LEAR Out of my sight! + +KENT See better, Lear; and let me still remain + The true blank of thine eye. + +KING LEAR Now, by Apollo,-- + +KENT Now, by Apollo, king, + Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. + +KING LEAR O, vassal! miscreant! + + [Laying his hand on his sword] + + +ALBANY | + | Dear sir, forbear. +CORNWALL | + + +KENT Do: + Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow + Upon thy foul disease. Revoke thy doom; + Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, + I'll tell thee thou dost evil. + +KING LEAR Hear me, recreant! + On thine allegiance, hear me! + Since thou hast sought to make us break our vow, + Which we durst never yet, and with strain'd pride + To come between our sentence and our power, + Which nor our nature nor our place can bear, + Our potency made good, take thy reward. + Five days we do allot thee, for provision + To shield thee from diseases of the world; + And on the sixth to turn thy hated back + Upon our kingdom: if, on the tenth day following, + Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, + The moment is thy death. Away! by Jupiter, + This shall not be revoked. + +KENT Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, + Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. + + [To CORDELIA] + + The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, + That justly think'st, and hast most rightly said! + + [To REGAN and GONERIL] + + And your large speeches may your deeds approve, + That good effects may spring from words of love. + Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adieu; + He'll shape his old course in a country new. + + [Exit] + + [Flourish. Re-enter GLOUCESTER, with KING OF FRANCE, + BURGUNDY, and Attendants] + +GLOUCESTER Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord. + +KING LEAR My lord of Burgundy. + We first address towards you, who with this king + Hath rivall'd for our daughter: what, in the least, + Will you require in present dower with her, + Or cease your quest of love? + +BURGUNDY Most royal majesty, + I crave no more than what your highness offer'd, + Nor will you tender less. + +KING LEAR Right noble Burgundy, + When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; + But now her price is fall'n. Sir, there she stands: + If aught within that little seeming substance, + Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced, + And nothing more, may fitly like your grace, + She's there, and she is yours. + +BURGUNDY I know no answer. + +KING LEAR Will you, with those infirmities she owes, + Unfriended, new-adopted to our hate, + Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, + Take her, or leave her? + +BURGUNDY Pardon me, royal sir; + Election makes not up on such conditions. + +KING LEAR Then leave her, sir; for, by the power that made me, + I tell you all her wealth. + + [To KING OF FRANCE] + + For you, great king, + I would not from your love make such a stray, + To match you where I hate; therefore beseech you + To avert your liking a more worthier way + Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed + Almost to acknowledge hers. + +KING OF FRANCE This is most strange, + That she, that even but now was your best object, + The argument of your praise, balm of your age, + Most best, most dearest, should in this trice of time + Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle + So many folds of favour. Sure, her offence + Must be of such unnatural degree, + That monsters it, or your fore-vouch'd affection + Fall'n into taint: which to believe of her, + Must be a faith that reason without miracle + Could never plant in me. + +CORDELIA I yet beseech your majesty,-- + If for I want that glib and oily art, + To speak and purpose not; since what I well intend, + I'll do't before I speak,--that you make known + It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness, + No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step, + That hath deprived me of your grace and favour; + But even for want of that for which I am richer, + A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue + As I am glad I have not, though not to have it + Hath lost me in your liking. + +KING LEAR Better thou + Hadst not been born than not to have pleased me better. + +KING OF FRANCE Is it but this,--a tardiness in nature + Which often leaves the history unspoke + That it intends to do? My lord of Burgundy, + What say you to the lady? Love's not love + When it is mingled with regards that stand + Aloof from the entire point. Will you have her? + She is herself a dowry. + +BURGUNDY Royal Lear, + Give but that portion which yourself proposed, + And here I take Cordelia by the hand, + Duchess of Burgundy. + +KING LEAR Nothing: I have sworn; I am firm. + +BURGUNDY I am sorry, then, you have so lost a father + That you must lose a husband. + +CORDELIA Peace be with Burgundy! + Since that respects of fortune are his love, + I shall not be his wife. + +KING OF FRANCE Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich, being poor; + Most choice, forsaken; and most loved, despised! + Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon: + Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. + Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect + My love should kindle to inflamed respect. + Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, + Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France: + Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy + Can buy this unprized precious maid of me. + Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind: + Thou losest here, a better where to find. + +KING LEAR Thou hast her, France: let her be thine; for we + Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see + That face of hers again. Therefore be gone + Without our grace, our love, our benison. + Come, noble Burgundy. + + [Flourish. Exeunt all but KING OF FRANCE, GONERIL, + REGAN, and CORDELIA] + +KING OF FRANCE Bid farewell to your sisters. + +CORDELIA The jewels of our father, with wash'd eyes + Cordelia leaves you: I know you what you are; + And like a sister am most loath to call + Your faults as they are named. Use well our father: + To your professed bosoms I commit him + But yet, alas, stood I within his grace, + I would prefer him to a better place. + So, farewell to you both. + +REGAN Prescribe not us our duties. + +GONERIL Let your study + Be to content your lord, who hath received you + At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted, + And well are worth the want that you have wanted. + +CORDELIA Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: + Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. + Well may you prosper! + +KING OF FRANCE Come, my fair Cordelia. + + [Exeunt KING OF FRANCE and CORDELIA] + +GONERIL Sister, it is not a little I have to say of what + most nearly appertains to us both. I think our + father will hence to-night. + +REGAN That's most certain, and with you; next month with us. + +GONERIL You see how full of changes his age is; the + observation we have made of it hath not been + little: he always loved our sister most; and + with what poor judgment he hath now cast her off + appears too grossly. + +REGAN 'Tis the infirmity of his age: yet he hath ever + but slenderly known himself. + +GONERIL The best and soundest of his time hath been but + rash; then must we look to receive from his age, + not alone the imperfections of long-engraffed + condition, but therewithal the unruly waywardness + that infirm and choleric years bring with them. + +REGAN Such unconstant starts are we like to have from + him as this of Kent's banishment. + +GONERIL There is further compliment of leavetaking + between France and him. Pray you, let's hit + together: if our father carry authority with + such dispositions as he bears, this last + surrender of his will but offend us. + +REGAN We shall further think on't. + +GONERIL We must do something, and i' the heat. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II The Earl of Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter EDMUND, with a letter] + +EDMUND Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law + My services are bound. Wherefore should I + Stand in the plague of custom, and permit + The curiosity of nations to deprive me, + For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines + Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? + When my dimensions are as well compact, + My mind as generous, and my shape as true, + As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us + With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? + Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take + More composition and fierce quality + Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, + Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, + Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then, + Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land: + Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund + As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate! + Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed, + And my invention thrive, Edmund the base + Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: + Now, gods, stand up for bastards! + + [Enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Kent banish'd thus! and France in choler parted! + And the king gone to-night! subscribed his power! + Confined to exhibition! All this done + Upon the gad! Edmund, how now! what news? + +EDMUND So please your lordship, none. + + [Putting up the letter] + +GLOUCESTER Why so earnestly seek you to put up that letter? + +EDMUND I know no news, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER What paper were you reading? + +EDMUND Nothing, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER No? What needed, then, that terrible dispatch of + it into your pocket? the quality of nothing hath + not such need to hide itself. Let's see: come, + if it be nothing, I shall not need spectacles. + +EDMUND I beseech you, sir, pardon me: it is a letter + from my brother, that I have not all o'er-read; + and for so much as I have perused, I find it not + fit for your o'er-looking. + +GLOUCESTER Give me the letter, sir. + +EDMUND I shall offend, either to detain or give it. The + contents, as in part I understand them, are to blame. + +GLOUCESTER Let's see, let's see. + +EDMUND I hope, for my brother's justification, he wrote + this but as an essay or taste of my virtue. + +GLOUCESTER [Reads] 'This policy and reverence of age makes + the world bitter to the best of our times; keeps + our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish + them. I begin to find an idle and fond bondage + in the oppression of aged tyranny; who sways, not + as it hath power, but as it is suffered. Come to + me, that of this I may speak more. If our father + would sleep till I waked him, you should half his + revenue for ever, and live the beloved of your + brother, EDGAR.' + + Hum--conspiracy!--'Sleep till I waked him,--you + should enjoy half his revenue,'--My son Edgar! + Had he a hand to write this? a heart and brain + to breed it in?--When came this to you? who + brought it? + +EDMUND It was not brought me, my lord; there's the + cunning of it; I found it thrown in at the + casement of my closet. + +GLOUCESTER You know the character to be your brother's? + +EDMUND If the matter were good, my lord, I durst swear + it were his; but, in respect of that, I would + fain think it were not. + +GLOUCESTER It is his. + +EDMUND It is his hand, my lord; but I hope his heart is + not in the contents. + +GLOUCESTER Hath he never heretofore sounded you in this business? + +EDMUND Never, my lord: but I have heard him oft + maintain it to be fit, that, sons at perfect age, + and fathers declining, the father should be as + ward to the son, and the son manage his revenue. + +GLOUCESTER O villain, villain! His very opinion in the + letter! Abhorred villain! Unnatural, detested, + brutish villain! worse than brutish! Go, sirrah, + seek him; I'll apprehend him: abominable villain! + Where is he? + +EDMUND I do not well know, my lord. If it shall please + you to suspend your indignation against my + brother till you can derive from him better + testimony of his intent, you shall run a certain + course; where, if you violently proceed against + him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great + gap in your own honour, and shake in pieces the + heart of his obedience. I dare pawn down my life + for him, that he hath wrote this to feel my + affection to your honour, and to no further + pretence of danger. + +GLOUCESTER Think you so? + +EDMUND If your honour judge it meet, I will place you + where you shall hear us confer of this, and by an + auricular assurance have your satisfaction; and + that without any further delay than this very evening. + +GLOUCESTER He cannot be such a monster-- + +EDMUND Nor is not, sure. + +GLOUCESTER To his father, that so tenderly and entirely + loves him. Heaven and earth! Edmund, seek him + out: wind me into him, I pray you: frame the + business after your own wisdom. I would unstate + myself, to be in a due resolution. + +EDMUND I will seek him, sir, presently: convey the + business as I shall find means and acquaint you withal. + +GLOUCESTER These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend + no good to us: though the wisdom of nature can + reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself + scourged by the sequent effects: love cools, + friendship falls off, brothers divide: in + cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in + palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son + and father. This villain of mine comes under the + prediction; there's son against father: the king + falls from bias of nature; there's father against + child. We have seen the best of our time: + machinations, hollowness, treachery, and all + ruinous disorders, follow us disquietly to our + graves. Find out this villain, Edmund; it shall + lose thee nothing; do it carefully. And the + noble and true-hearted Kent banished! his + offence, honesty! 'Tis strange. + + [Exit] + +EDMUND This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, + when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeit + of our own behavior,--we make guilty of our + disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: as + if we were villains by necessity; fools by + heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and + treachers, by spherical predominance; drunkards, + liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of + planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, + by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion + of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish + disposition to the charge of a star! My + father compounded with my mother under the + dragon's tail; and my nativity was under Ursa + major; so that it follows, I am rough and + lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, + had the maidenliest star in the firmament + twinkled on my bastardizing. Edgar-- + + [Enter EDGAR] + + And pat he comes like the catastrophe of the old + comedy: my cue is villanous melancholy, with a + sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. O, these eclipses do + portend these divisions! fa, sol, la, mi. + +EDGAR How now, brother Edmund! what serious + contemplation are you in? + +EDMUND I am thinking, brother, of a prediction I read + this other day, what should follow these eclipses. + +EDGAR Do you busy yourself about that? + +EDMUND I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed + unhappily; as of unnaturalness between the child + and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of + ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and + maledictions against king and nobles; needless + diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation + of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what. + +EDGAR How long have you been a sectary astronomical? + +EDMUND Come, come; when saw you my father last? + +EDGAR Why, the night gone by. + +EDMUND Spake you with him? + +EDGAR Ay, two hours together. + +EDMUND Parted you in good terms? Found you no + displeasure in him by word or countenance? + +EDGAR None at all. + +EDMUND Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended + him: and at my entreaty forbear his presence + till some little time hath qualified the heat of + his displeasure; which at this instant so rageth + in him, that with the mischief of your person it + would scarcely allay. + +EDGAR Some villain hath done me wrong. + +EDMUND That's my fear. I pray you, have a continent + forbearance till the spied of his rage goes + slower; and, as I say, retire with me to my + lodging, from whence I will fitly bring you to + hear my lord speak: pray ye, go; there's my key: + if you do stir abroad, go armed. + +EDGAR Armed, brother! + +EDMUND Brother, I advise you to the best; go armed: I + am no honest man if there be any good meaning + towards you: I have told you what I have seen + and heard; but faintly, nothing like the image + and horror of it: pray you, away. + +EDGAR Shall I hear from you anon? + +EDMUND I do serve you in this business. + + [Exit EDGAR] + + A credulous father! and a brother noble, + Whose nature is so far from doing harms, + That he suspects none: on whose foolish honesty + My practises ride easy! I see the business. + Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: + All with me's meet that I can fashion fit. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III The Duke of Albany's palace. + + + [Enter GONERIL, and OSWALD, her steward] + +GONERIL Did my father strike my gentleman for chiding of his fool? + +OSWALD Yes, madam. + +GONERIL By day and night he wrongs me; every hour + He flashes into one gross crime or other, + That sets us all at odds: I'll not endure it: + His knights grow riotous, and himself upbraids us + On every trifle. When he returns from hunting, + I will not speak with him; say I am sick: + If you come slack of former services, + You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. + +OSWALD He's coming, madam; I hear him. + + [Horns within] + +GONERIL Put on what weary negligence you please, + You and your fellows; I'll have it come to question: + If he dislike it, let him to our sister, + Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one, + Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man, + That still would manage those authorities + That he hath given away! Now, by my life, + Old fools are babes again; and must be used + With cheques as flatteries,--when they are seen abused. + Remember what I tell you. + +OSWALD Well, madam. + +GONERIL And let his knights have colder looks among you; + What grows of it, no matter; advise your fellows so: + I would breed from hence occasions, and I shall, + That I may speak: I'll write straight to my sister, + To hold my very course. Prepare for dinner. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV A hall in the same. + + + [Enter KENT, disguised] + +KENT If but as well I other accents borrow, + That can my speech defuse, my good intent + May carry through itself to that full issue + For which I razed my likeness. Now, banish'd Kent, + If thou canst serve where thou dost stand condemn'd, + So may it come, thy master, whom thou lovest, + Shall find thee full of labours. + + [Horns within. Enter KING LEAR, Knights, and + Attendants] + +KING LEAR Let me not stay a jot for dinner; go get it ready. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + How now! what art thou? + +KENT A man, sir. + +KING LEAR What dost thou profess? what wouldst thou with us? + +KENT I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve + him truly that will put me in trust: to love him + that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, + and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I + cannot choose; and to eat no fish. + +KING LEAR What art thou? + +KENT A very honest-hearted fellow, and as poor as the king. + +KING LEAR If thou be as poor for a subject as he is for a + king, thou art poor enough. What wouldst thou? + +KENT Service. + +KING LEAR Who wouldst thou serve? + +KENT You. + +KING LEAR Dost thou know me, fellow? + +KENT No, sir; but you have that in your countenance + which I would fain call master. + +KING LEAR What's that? + +KENT Authority. + +KING LEAR What services canst thou do? + +KENT I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, mar a curious + tale in telling it, and deliver a plain message + bluntly: that which ordinary men are fit for, I am + qualified in; and the best of me is diligence. + +KING LEAR How old art thou? + +KENT Not so young, sir, to love a woman for singing, nor + so old to dote on her for any thing: I have years + on my back forty eight. + +KING LEAR Follow me; thou shalt serve me: if I like thee no + worse after dinner, I will not part from thee yet. + Dinner, ho, dinner! Where's my knave? my fool? + Go you, and call my fool hither. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + [Enter OSWALD] + + You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? + +OSWALD So please you,-- + + [Exit] + +KING LEAR What says the fellow there? Call the clotpoll back. + + [Exit a Knight] + + Where's my fool, ho? I think the world's asleep. + + [Re-enter Knight] + + How now! where's that mongrel? + +Knight He says, my lord, your daughter is not well. + +KING LEAR Why came not the slave back to me when I called him. + +Knight Sir, he answered me in the roundest manner, he would + not. + +KING LEAR He would not! + +Knight My lord, I know not what the matter is; but, to my + judgment, your highness is not entertained with that + ceremonious affection as you were wont; there's a + great abatement of kindness appears as well in the + general dependants as in the duke himself also and + your daughter. + +KING LEAR Ha! sayest thou so? + +Knight I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, if I be mistaken; + for my duty cannot be silent when I think your + highness wronged. + +KING LEAR Thou but rememberest me of mine own conception: I + have perceived a most faint neglect of late; which I + have rather blamed as mine own jealous curiosity + than as a very pretence and purpose of unkindness: + I will look further into't. But where's my fool? I + have not seen him this two days. + +Knight Since my young lady's going into France, sir, the + fool hath much pined away. + +KING LEAR No more of that; I have noted it well. Go you, and + tell my daughter I would speak with her. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + Go you, call hither my fool. + + [Exit an Attendant] + + [Re-enter OSWALD] + + O, you sir, you, come you hither, sir: who am I, + sir? + +OSWALD My lady's father. + +KING LEAR 'My lady's father'! my lord's knave: your + whoreson dog! you slave! you cur! + +OSWALD I am none of these, my lord; I beseech your pardon. + +KING LEAR Do you bandy looks with me, you rascal? + + [Striking him] + +OSWALD I'll not be struck, my lord. + +KENT Nor tripped neither, you base football player. + + [Tripping up his heels] + +KING LEAR I thank thee, fellow; thou servest me, and I'll + love thee. + +KENT Come, sir, arise, away! I'll teach you differences: + away, away! if you will measure your lubber's + length again, tarry: but away! go to; have you + wisdom? so. + + [Pushes OSWALD out] + +KING LEAR Now, my friendly knave, I thank thee: there's + earnest of thy service. + + [Giving KENT money] + + [Enter Fool] + +Fool Let me hire him too: here's my coxcomb. + + [Offering KENT his cap] + +KING LEAR How now, my pretty knave! how dost thou? + +Fool Sirrah, you were best take my coxcomb. + +KENT Why, fool? + +Fool Why, for taking one's part that's out of favour: + nay, an thou canst not smile as the wind sits, + thou'lt catch cold shortly: there, take my coxcomb: + why, this fellow has banished two on's daughters, + and did the third a blessing against his will; if + thou follow him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. + How now, nuncle! Would I had two coxcombs and two daughters! + +KING LEAR Why, my boy? + +Fool If I gave them all my living, I'ld keep my coxcombs + myself. There's mine; beg another of thy daughters. + +KING LEAR Take heed, sirrah; the whip. + +Fool Truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be whipped + out, when Lady the brach may stand by the fire and stink. + +KING LEAR A pestilent gall to me! + +Fool Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. + +KING LEAR Do. + +Fool Mark it, nuncle: + Have more than thou showest, + Speak less than thou knowest, + Lend less than thou owest, + Ride more than thou goest, + Learn more than thou trowest, + Set less than thou throwest; + Leave thy drink and thy whore, + And keep in-a-door, + And thou shalt have more + Than two tens to a score. + +KENT This is nothing, fool. + +Fool Then 'tis like the breath of an unfee'd lawyer; you + gave me nothing for't. Can you make no use of + nothing, nuncle? + +KING LEAR Why, no, boy; nothing can be made out of nothing. + +Fool [To KENT] Prithee, tell him, so much the rent of + his land comes to: he will not believe a fool. + +KING LEAR A bitter fool! + +Fool Dost thou know the difference, my boy, between a + bitter fool and a sweet fool? + +KING LEAR No, lad; teach me. + +Fool That lord that counsell'd thee + To give away thy land, + Come place him here by me, + Do thou for him stand: + The sweet and bitter fool + Will presently appear; + The one in motley here, + The other found out there. + +KING LEAR Dost thou call me fool, boy? + +Fool All thy other titles thou hast given away; that + thou wast born with. + +KENT This is not altogether fool, my lord. + +Fool No, faith, lords and great men will not let me; if + I had a monopoly out, they would have part on't: + and ladies too, they will not let me have all fool + to myself; they'll be snatching. Give me an egg, + nuncle, and I'll give thee two crowns. + +KING LEAR What two crowns shall they be? + +Fool Why, after I have cut the egg i' the middle, and eat + up the meat, the two crowns of the egg. When thou + clovest thy crown i' the middle, and gavest away + both parts, thou borest thy ass on thy back o'er + the dirt: thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, + when thou gavest thy golden one away. If I speak + like myself in this, let him be whipped that first + finds it so. + + [Singing] + + Fools had ne'er less wit in a year; + For wise men are grown foppish, + They know not how their wits to wear, + Their manners are so apish. + +KING LEAR When were you wont to be so full of songs, sirrah? + +Fool I have used it, nuncle, ever since thou madest thy + daughters thy mothers: for when thou gavest them + the rod, and put'st down thine own breeches, + + [Singing] + + Then they for sudden joy did weep, + And I for sorrow sung, + That such a king should play bo-peep, + And go the fools among. + + Prithee, nuncle, keep a schoolmaster that can teach + thy fool to lie: I would fain learn to lie. + +KING LEAR An you lie, sirrah, we'll have you whipped. + +Fool I marvel what kin thou and thy daughters are: + they'll have me whipped for speaking true, thou'lt + have me whipped for lying; and sometimes I am + whipped for holding my peace. I had rather be any + kind o' thing than a fool: and yet I would not be + thee, nuncle; thou hast pared thy wit o' both sides, + and left nothing i' the middle: here comes one o' + the parings. + + [Enter GONERIL] + +KING LEAR How now, daughter! what makes that frontlet on? + Methinks you are too much of late i' the frown. + +Fool Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to + care for her frowning; now thou art an O without a + figure: I am better than thou art now; I am a fool, + thou art nothing. + + [To GONERIL] + + Yes, forsooth, I will hold my tongue; so your face + bids me, though you say nothing. Mum, mum, + He that keeps nor crust nor crum, + Weary of all, shall want some. + + [Pointing to KING LEAR] + + That's a shealed peascod. + +GONERIL Not only, sir, this your all-licensed fool, + But other of your insolent retinue + Do hourly carp and quarrel; breaking forth + In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir, + I had thought, by making this well known unto you, + To have found a safe redress; but now grow fearful, + By what yourself too late have spoke and done. + That you protect this course, and put it on + By your allowance; which if you should, the fault + Would not 'scape censure, nor the redresses sleep, + Which, in the tender of a wholesome weal, + Might in their working do you that offence, + Which else were shame, that then necessity + Will call discreet proceeding. + +Fool For, you trow, nuncle, + The hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, + That it's had it head bit off by it young. + So, out went the candle, and we were left darkling. + +KING LEAR Are you our daughter? + +GONERIL Come, sir, + I would you would make use of that good wisdom, + Whereof I know you are fraught; and put away + These dispositions, that of late transform you + From what you rightly are. + +Fool May not an ass know when the cart + draws the horse? Whoop, Jug! I love thee. + +KING LEAR Doth any here know me? This is not Lear: + Doth Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? + Either his notion weakens, his discernings + Are lethargied--Ha! waking? 'tis not so. + Who is it that can tell me who I am? + +Fool Lear's shadow. + +KING LEAR I would learn that; for, by the + marks of sovereignty, knowledge, and reason, + I should be false persuaded I had daughters. + +Fool Which they will make an obedient father. + +KING LEAR Your name, fair gentlewoman? + +GONERIL This admiration, sir, is much o' the savour + Of other your new pranks. I do beseech you + To understand my purposes aright: + As you are old and reverend, you should be wise. + Here do you keep a hundred knights and squires; + Men so disorder'd, so debosh'd and bold, + That this our court, infected with their manners, + Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust + Make it more like a tavern or a brothel + Than a graced palace. The shame itself doth speak + For instant remedy: be then desired + By her, that else will take the thing she begs, + A little to disquantity your train; + And the remainder, that shall still depend, + To be such men as may besort your age, + And know themselves and you. + +KING LEAR Darkness and devils! + Saddle my horses; call my train together: + Degenerate bastard! I'll not trouble thee. + Yet have I left a daughter. + +GONERIL You strike my people; and your disorder'd rabble + Make servants of their betters. + + [Enter ALBANY] + +KING LEAR Woe, that too late repents,-- + + [To ALBANY] + + O, sir, are you come? + Is it your will? Speak, sir. Prepare my horses. + Ingratitude, thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous when thou show'st thee in a child + Than the sea-monster! + +ALBANY Pray, sir, be patient. + +KING LEAR [To GONERIL] Detested kite! thou liest. + My train are men of choice and rarest parts, + That all particulars of duty know, + And in the most exact regard support + The worships of their name. O most small fault, + How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show! + That, like an engine, wrench'd my frame of nature + From the fix'd place; drew from heart all love, + And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! + Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, + + [Striking his head] + + And thy dear judgment out! Go, go, my people. + +ALBANY My lord, I am guiltless, as I am ignorant + Of what hath moved you. + +KING LEAR It may be so, my lord. + Hear, nature, hear; dear goddess, hear! + Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend + To make this creature fruitful! + Into her womb convey sterility! + Dry up in her the organs of increase; + And from her derogate body never spring + A babe to honour her! If she must teem, + Create her child of spleen; that it may live, + And be a thwart disnatured torment to her! + Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; + With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; + Turn all her mother's pains and benefits + To laughter and contempt; that she may feel + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child! Away, away! + + [Exit] + +ALBANY Now, gods that we adore, whereof comes this? + +GONERIL Never afflict yourself to know the cause; + But let his disposition have that scope + That dotage gives it. + + [Re-enter KING LEAR] + +KING LEAR What, fifty of my followers at a clap! + Within a fortnight! + +ALBANY What's the matter, sir? + + +KING LEAR I'll tell thee: + + [To GONERIL] + + Life and death! I am ashamed + That thou hast power to shake my manhood thus; + That these hot tears, which break from me perforce, + Should make thee worth them. Blasts and fogs upon thee! + The untented woundings of a father's curse + Pierce every sense about thee! Old fond eyes, + Beweep this cause again, I'll pluck ye out, + And cast you, with the waters that you lose, + To temper clay. Yea, it is come to this? + Let is be so: yet have I left a daughter, + Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable: + When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails + She'll flay thy wolvish visage. Thou shalt find + That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think + I have cast off for ever: thou shalt, + I warrant thee. + + [Exeunt KING LEAR, KENT, and Attendants] + +GONERIL Do you mark that, my lord? + +ALBANY I cannot be so partial, Goneril, + To the great love I bear you,-- + +GONERIL Pray you, content. What, Oswald, ho! + + [To the Fool] + + You, sir, more knave than fool, after your master. + +Fool Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry and take the fool + with thee. + A fox, when one has caught her, + And such a daughter, + Should sure to the slaughter, + If my cap would buy a halter: + So the fool follows after. + + [Exit] + +GONERIL This man hath had good counsel:--a hundred knights! + 'Tis politic and safe to let him keep + At point a hundred knights: yes, that, on every dream, + Each buzz, each fancy, each complaint, dislike, + He may enguard his dotage with their powers, + And hold our lives in mercy. Oswald, I say! + +ALBANY Well, you may fear too far. + +GONERIL Safer than trust too far: + Let me still take away the harms I fear, + Not fear still to be taken: I know his heart. + What he hath utter'd I have writ my sister + If she sustain him and his hundred knights + When I have show'd the unfitness,-- + + [Re-enter OSWALD] + + How now, Oswald! + What, have you writ that letter to my sister? + +OSWALD Yes, madam. + +GONERIL Take you some company, and away to horse: + Inform her full of my particular fear; + And thereto add such reasons of your own + As may compact it more. Get you gone; + And hasten your return. + + [Exit OSWALD] + + No, no, my lord, + This milky gentleness and course of yours + Though I condemn not, yet, under pardon, + You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom + Than praised for harmful mildness. + +ALBANY How far your eyes may pierce I can not tell: + Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. + +GONERIL Nay, then-- + +ALBANY Well, well; the event. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Court before the same. + + + [Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool] + +KING LEAR Go you before to Gloucester with these letters. + Acquaint my daughter no further with any thing you + know than comes from her demand out of the letter. + If your diligence be not speedy, I shall be there afore you. + +KENT I will not sleep, my lord, till I have delivered + your letter. + + [Exit] + +Fool If a man's brains were in's heels, were't not in + danger of kibes? + +KING LEAR Ay, boy. + +Fool Then, I prithee, be merry; thy wit shall ne'er go + slip-shod. + +KING LEAR Ha, ha, ha! + +Fool Shalt see thy other daughter will use thee kindly; + for though she's as like this as a crab's like an + apple, yet I can tell what I can tell. + +KING LEAR Why, what canst thou tell, my boy? + +Fool She will taste as like this as a crab does to a + crab. Thou canst tell why one's nose stands i' + the middle on's face? + +KING LEAR No. + +Fool Why, to keep one's eyes of either side's nose; that + what a man cannot smell out, he may spy into. + +KING LEAR I did her wrong-- + +Fool Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? + +KING LEAR No. + +Fool Nor I neither; but I can tell why a snail has a house. + +KING LEAR Why? + +Fool Why, to put his head in; not to give it away to his + daughters, and leave his horns without a case. + +KING LEAR I will forget my nature. So kind a father! Be my + horses ready? + +Fool Thy asses are gone about 'em. The reason why the + seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason. + +KING LEAR Because they are not eight? + +Fool Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool. + +KING LEAR To take 't again perforce! Monster ingratitude! + +Fool If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'ld have thee beaten + for being old before thy time. + +KING LEAR How's that? + +Fool Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst + been wise. + +KING LEAR O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven + Keep me in temper: I would not be mad! + + [Enter Gentleman] + + How now! are the horses ready? + +Gentleman Ready, my lord. + +KING LEAR Come, boy. + +Fool She that's a maid now, and laughs at my departure, + Shall not be a maid long, unless things be cut shorter. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I GLOUCESTER's castle. + + + [Enter EDMUND, and CURAN meets him] + +EDMUND Save thee, Curan. + +CURAN And you, sir. I have been with your father, and + given him notice that the Duke of Cornwall and Regan + his duchess will be here with him this night. + +EDMUND How comes that? + +CURAN Nay, I know not. You have heard of the news abroad; + I mean the whispered ones, for they are yet but + ear-kissing arguments? + +EDMUND Not I pray you, what are they? + +CURAN Have you heard of no likely wars toward, 'twixt the + Dukes of Cornwall and Albany? + +EDMUND Not a word. + +CURAN You may do, then, in time. Fare you well, sir. + + [Exit] + +EDMUND The duke be here to-night? The better! best! + This weaves itself perforce into my business. + My father hath set guard to take my brother; + And I have one thing, of a queasy question, + Which I must act: briefness and fortune, work! + Brother, a word; descend: brother, I say! + + [Enter EDGAR] + + My father watches: O sir, fly this place; + Intelligence is given where you are hid; + You have now the good advantage of the night: + Have you not spoken 'gainst the Duke of Cornwall? + He's coming hither: now, i' the night, i' the haste, + And Regan with him: have you nothing said + Upon his party 'gainst the Duke of Albany? + Advise yourself. + +EDGAR I am sure on't, not a word. + +EDMUND I hear my father coming: pardon me: + In cunning I must draw my sword upon you + Draw; seem to defend yourself; now quit you well. + Yield: come before my father. Light, ho, here! + Fly, brother. Torches, torches! So, farewell. + + [Exit EDGAR] + + Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion. + + [Wounds his arm] + + Of my more fierce endeavour: I have seen drunkards + Do more than this in sport. Father, father! + Stop, stop! No help? + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, and Servants with torches] + +GLOUCESTER Now, Edmund, where's the villain? + +EDMUND Here stood he in the dark, his sharp sword out, + Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon + To stand auspicious mistress,-- + +GLOUCESTER But where is he? + +EDMUND Look, sir, I bleed. + +GLOUCESTER Where is the villain, Edmund? + +EDMUND Fled this way, sir. When by no means he could-- + +GLOUCESTER Pursue him, ho! Go after. + + [Exeunt some Servants] + + By no means what? + +EDMUND Persuade me to the murder of your lordship; + But that I told him, the revenging gods + 'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend; + Spoke, with how manifold and strong a bond + The child was bound to the father; sir, in fine, + Seeing how loathly opposite I stood + To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion, + With his prepared sword, he charges home + My unprovided body, lanced mine arm: + But when he saw my best alarum'd spirits, + Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the encounter, + Or whether gasted by the noise I made, + Full suddenly he fled. + +GLOUCESTER Let him fly far: + Not in this land shall he remain uncaught; + And found--dispatch. The noble duke my master, + My worthy arch and patron, comes to-night: + By his authority I will proclaim it, + That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, + Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; + He that conceals him, death. + +EDMUND When I dissuaded him from his intent, + And found him pight to do it, with curst speech + I threaten'd to discover him: he replied, + 'Thou unpossessing bastard! dost thou think, + If I would stand against thee, would the reposal + Of any trust, virtue, or worth in thee + Make thy words faith'd? No: what I should deny,-- + As this I would: ay, though thou didst produce + My very character,--I'ld turn it all + To thy suggestion, plot, and damned practise: + And thou must make a dullard of the world, + If they not thought the profits of my death + Were very pregnant and potential spurs + To make thee seek it.' + +GLOUCESTER Strong and fasten'd villain + Would he deny his letter? I never got him. + + [Tucket within] + + Hark, the duke's trumpets! I know not why he comes. + All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape; + The duke must grant me that: besides, his picture + I will send far and near, that all the kingdom + May have the due note of him; and of my land, + Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means + To make thee capable. + + [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, and Attendants] + +CORNWALL How now, my noble friend! since I came hither, + Which I can call but now, I have heard strange news. + +REGAN If it be true, all vengeance comes too short + Which can pursue the offender. How dost, my lord? + +GLOUCESTER O, madam, my old heart is crack'd, it's crack'd! + +REGAN What, did my father's godson seek your life? + He whom my father named? your Edgar? + +GLOUCESTER O, lady, lady, shame would have it hid! + +REGAN Was he not companion with the riotous knights + That tend upon my father? + +GLOUCESTER I know not, madam: 'tis too bad, too bad. + +EDMUND Yes, madam, he was of that consort. + +REGAN No marvel, then, though he were ill affected: + 'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, + To have the expense and waste of his revenues. + I have this present evening from my sister + Been well inform'd of them; and with such cautions, + That if they come to sojourn at my house, + I'll not be there. + +CORNWALL Nor I, assure thee, Regan. + Edmund, I hear that you have shown your father + A child-like office. + +EDMUND 'Twas my duty, sir. + +GLOUCESTER He did bewray his practise; and received + This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. + +CORNWALL Is he pursued? + +GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. + +CORNWALL If he be taken, he shall never more + Be fear'd of doing harm: make your own purpose, + How in my strength you please. For you, Edmund, + Whose virtue and obedience doth this instant + So much commend itself, you shall be ours: + Natures of such deep trust we shall much need; + You we first seize on. + +EDMUND I shall serve you, sir, + Truly, however else. + +GLOUCESTER For him I thank your grace. + +CORNWALL You know not why we came to visit you,-- + +REGAN Thus out of season, threading dark-eyed night: + Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, + Wherein we must have use of your advice: + Our father he hath writ, so hath our sister, + Of differences, which I least thought it fit + To answer from our home; the several messengers + From hence attend dispatch. Our good old friend, + Lay comforts to your bosom; and bestow + Your needful counsel to our business, + Which craves the instant use. + +GLOUCESTER I serve you, madam: + Your graces are right welcome. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Before Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter KENT and OSWALD, severally] + +OSWALD Good dawning to thee, friend: art of this house? + +KENT Ay. + +OSWALD Where may we set our horses? + +KENT I' the mire. + +OSWALD Prithee, if thou lovest me, tell me. + +KENT I love thee not. + +OSWALD Why, then, I care not for thee. + +KENT If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I would make thee + care for me. + +OSWALD Why dost thou use me thus? I know thee not. + +KENT Fellow, I know thee. + +OSWALD What dost thou know me for? + +KENT A knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a + base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, + hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a + lily-livered, action-taking knave, a whoreson, + glass-gazing, super-serviceable finical rogue; + one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a + bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but + the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, + and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I + will beat into clamorous whining, if thou deniest + the least syllable of thy addition. + +OSWALD Why, what a monstrous fellow art thou, thus to rail + on one that is neither known of thee nor knows thee! + +KENT What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, to deny thou + knowest me! Is it two days ago since I tripped up + thy heels, and beat thee before the king? Draw, you + rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon + shines; I'll make a sop o' the moonshine of you: + draw, you whoreson cullionly barber-monger, draw. + + [Drawing his sword] + +OSWALD Away! I have nothing to do with thee. + +KENT Draw, you rascal: you come with letters against the + king; and take vanity the puppet's part against the + royalty of her father: draw, you rogue, or I'll so + carbonado your shanks: draw, you rascal; come your ways. + +OSWALD Help, ho! murder! help! + +KENT Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, stand; you neat + slave, strike. + + [Beating him] + +OSWALD Help, ho! murder! murder! + + [Enter EDMUND, with his rapier drawn, CORNWALL, + REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants] + +EDMUND How now! What's the matter? + +KENT With you, goodman boy, an you please: come, I'll + flesh ye; come on, young master. + +GLOUCESTER Weapons! arms! What 's the matter here? + +CORNWALL Keep peace, upon your lives: + He dies that strikes again. What is the matter? + +REGAN The messengers from our sister and the king. + +CORNWALL What is your difference? speak. + +OSWALD I am scarce in breath, my lord. + +KENT No marvel, you have so bestirred your valour. You + cowardly rascal, nature disclaims in thee: a + tailor made thee. + +CORNWALL Thou art a strange fellow: a tailor make a man? + +KENT Ay, a tailor, sir: a stone-cutter or painter could + not have made him so ill, though he had been but two + hours at the trade. + +CORNWALL Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? + +OSWALD This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I have spared + at suit of his gray beard,-- + +KENT Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter! My + lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this + unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of + a jakes with him. Spare my gray beard, you wagtail? + +CORNWALL Peace, sirrah! + You beastly knave, know you no reverence? + +KENT Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege. + +CORNWALL Why art thou angry? + +KENT That such a slave as this should wear a sword, + Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as these, + Like rats, oft bite the holy cords a-twain + Which are too intrinse t' unloose; smooth every passion + That in the natures of their lords rebel; + Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods; + Renege, affirm, and turn their halcyon beaks + With every gale and vary of their masters, + Knowing nought, like dogs, but following. + A plague upon your epileptic visage! + Smile you my speeches, as I were a fool? + Goose, if I had you upon Sarum plain, + I'ld drive ye cackling home to Camelot. + +CORNWALL Why, art thou mad, old fellow? + +GLOUCESTER How fell you out? say that. + +KENT No contraries hold more antipathy + Than I and such a knave. + +CORNWALL Why dost thou call him a knave? What's his offence? + +KENT His countenance likes me not. + +CORNWALL No more, perchance, does mine, nor his, nor hers. + +KENT Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain: + I have seen better faces in my time + Than stands on any shoulder that I see + Before me at this instant. + +CORNWALL This is some fellow, + Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth affect + A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb + Quite from his nature: he cannot flatter, he, + An honest mind and plain, he must speak truth! + An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. + These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainness + Harbour more craft and more corrupter ends + Than twenty silly ducking observants + That stretch their duties nicely. + +KENT Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity, + Under the allowance of your great aspect, + Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant fire + On flickering Phoebus' front,-- + +CORNWALL What mean'st by this? + +KENT To go out of my dialect, which you + discommend so much. I know, sir, I am no + flatterer: he that beguiled you in a plain + accent was a plain knave; which for my part + I will not be, though I should win your displeasure + to entreat me to 't. + +CORNWALL What was the offence you gave him? + +OSWALD I never gave him any: + It pleased the king his master very late + To strike at me, upon his misconstruction; + When he, conjunct and flattering his displeasure, + Tripp'd me behind; being down, insulted, rail'd, + And put upon him such a deal of man, + That worthied him, got praises of the king + For him attempting who was self-subdued; + And, in the fleshment of this dread exploit, + Drew on me here again. + +KENT None of these rogues and cowards + But Ajax is their fool. + +CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks! + You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, + We'll teach you-- + +KENT Sir, I am too old to learn: + Call not your stocks for me: I serve the king; + On whose employment I was sent to you: + You shall do small respect, show too bold malice + Against the grace and person of my master, + Stocking his messenger. + +CORNWALL Fetch forth the stocks! As I have life and honour, + There shall he sit till noon. + +REGAN Till noon! till night, my lord; and all night too. + +KENT Why, madam, if I were your father's dog, + You should not use me so. + +REGAN Sir, being his knave, I will. + +CORNWALL This is a fellow of the self-same colour + Our sister speaks of. Come, bring away the stocks! + + [Stocks brought out] + +GLOUCESTER Let me beseech your grace not to do so: + His fault is much, and the good king his master + Will cheque him for 't: your purposed low correction + Is such as basest and contemned'st wretches + For pilferings and most common trespasses + Are punish'd with: the king must take it ill, + That he's so slightly valued in his messenger, + Should have him thus restrain'd. + +CORNWALL I'll answer that. + +REGAN My sister may receive it much more worse, + To have her gentleman abused, assaulted, + For following her affairs. Put in his legs. + + [KENT is put in the stocks] + + Come, my good lord, away. + + [Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER and KENT] + +GLOUCESTER I am sorry for thee, friend; 'tis the duke's pleasure, + Whose disposition, all the world well knows, + Will not be rubb'd nor stopp'd: I'll entreat for thee. + +KENT Pray, do not, sir: I have watched and travell'd hard; + Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. + A good man's fortune may grow out at heels: + Give you good morrow! + +GLOUCESTER The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be ill taken. + + [Exit] + +KENT Good king, that must approve the common saw, + Thou out of heaven's benediction comest + To the warm sun! + Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, + That by thy comfortable beams I may + Peruse this letter! Nothing almost sees miracles + But misery: I know 'tis from Cordelia, + Who hath most fortunately been inform'd + Of my obscured course; and shall find time + From this enormous state, seeking to give + Losses their remedies. All weary and o'erwatch'd, + Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold + This shameful lodging. + Fortune, good night: smile once more: turn thy wheel! + + [Sleeps] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A wood. + + + [Enter EDGAR] + +EDGAR I heard myself proclaim'd; + And by the happy hollow of a tree + Escaped the hunt. No port is free; no place, + That guard, and most unusual vigilance, + Does not attend my taking. Whiles I may 'scape, + I will preserve myself: and am bethought + To take the basest and most poorest shape + That ever penury, in contempt of man, + Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; + Blanket my loins: elf all my hair in knots; + And with presented nakedness out-face + The winds and persecutions of the sky. + The country gives me proof and precedent + Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices, + Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms + Pins, wooden pricks, nails, sprigs of rosemary; + And with this horrible object, from low farms, + Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills, + Sometime with lunatic bans, sometime with prayers, + Enforce their charity. Poor Turlygod! poor Tom! + That's something yet: Edgar I nothing am. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Before GLOUCESTER's castle. KENT in the stocks. + + + [Enter KING LEAR, Fool, and Gentleman] + +KING LEAR 'Tis strange that they should so depart from home, + And not send back my messenger. + +Gentleman As I learn'd, + The night before there was no purpose in them + Of this remove. + +KENT Hail to thee, noble master! + +KING LEAR Ha! + Makest thou this shame thy pastime? + +KENT No, my lord. + +Fool Ha, ha! he wears cruel garters. Horses are tied + by the heads, dogs and bears by the neck, monkeys by + the loins, and men by the legs: when a man's + over-lusty at legs, then he wears wooden + nether-stocks. + +KING LEAR What's he that hath so much thy place mistook + To set thee here? + +KENT It is both he and she; + Your son and daughter. + +KING LEAR No. + +KENT Yes. + +KING LEAR No, I say. + +KENT I say, yea. + +KING LEAR No, no, they would not. + +KENT Yes, they have. + +KING LEAR By Jupiter, I swear, no. + +KENT By Juno, I swear, ay. + +KING LEAR They durst not do 't; + They could not, would not do 't; 'tis worse than murder, + To do upon respect such violent outrage: + Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way + Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this usage, + Coming from us. + +KENT My lord, when at their home + I did commend your highness' letters to them, + Ere I was risen from the place that show'd + My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post, + Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, panting forth + From Goneril his mistress salutations; + Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission, + Which presently they read: on whose contents, + They summon'd up their meiny, straight took horse; + Commanded me to follow, and attend + The leisure of their answer; gave me cold looks: + And meeting here the other messenger, + Whose welcome, I perceived, had poison'd mine,-- + Being the very fellow that of late + Display'd so saucily against your highness,-- + Having more man than wit about me, drew: + He raised the house with loud and coward cries. + Your son and daughter found this trespass worth + The shame which here it suffers. + +Fool Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way. + Fathers that wear rags + Do make their children blind; + But fathers that bear bags + Shall see their children kind. + Fortune, that arrant whore, + Ne'er turns the key to the poor. + But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolours + for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year. + +KING LEAR O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! + Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow, + Thy element's below! Where is this daughter? + +KENT With the earl, sir, here within. + +KING LEAR Follow me not; + Stay here. + + [Exit] + +Gentleman Made you no more offence but what you speak of? + +KENT None. + How chance the king comes with so small a train? + +Fool And thou hadst been set i' the stocks for that + question, thou hadst well deserved it. + +KENT Why, fool? + +Fool We'll set thee to school to an ant, to teach thee + there's no labouring i' the winter. All that follow + their noses are led by their eyes but blind men; and + there's not a nose among twenty but can smell him + that's stinking. Let go thy hold when a great wheel + runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with + following it: but the great one that goes up the + hill, let him draw thee after. When a wise man + gives thee better counsel, give me mine again: I + would have none but knaves follow it, since a fool gives it. + That sir which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm, + But I will tarry; the fool will stay, + And let the wise man fly: + The knave turns fool that runs away; + The fool no knave, perdy. + +KENT Where learned you this, fool? + +Fool Not i' the stocks, fool. + + [Re-enter KING LEAR with GLOUCESTER] + +KING LEAR Deny to speak with me? They are sick? they are weary? + They have travell'd all the night? Mere fetches; + The images of revolt and flying off. + Fetch me a better answer. + +GLOUCESTER My dear lord, + You know the fiery quality of the duke; + How unremoveable and fix'd he is + In his own course. + +KING LEAR Vengeance! plague! death! confusion! + Fiery? what quality? Why, Gloucester, Gloucester, + I'ld speak with the Duke of Cornwall and his wife. + +GLOUCESTER Well, my good lord, I have inform'd them so. + +KING LEAR Inform'd them! Dost thou understand me, man? + +GLOUCESTER Ay, my good lord. + +KING LEAR The king would speak with Cornwall; the dear father + Would with his daughter speak, commands her service: + Are they inform'd of this? My breath and blood! + Fiery? the fiery duke? Tell the hot duke that-- + No, but not yet: may be he is not well: + Infirmity doth still neglect all office + Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves + When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind + To suffer with the body: I'll forbear; + And am fall'n out with my more headier will, + To take the indisposed and sickly fit + For the sound man. Death on my state! wherefore + + [Looking on KENT] + + Should he sit here? This act persuades me + That this remotion of the duke and her + Is practise only. Give me my servant forth. + Go tell the duke and 's wife I'ld speak with them, + Now, presently: bid them come forth and hear me, + Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum + Till it cry sleep to death. + +GLOUCESTER I would have all well betwixt you. + + [Exit] + +KING LEAR O me, my heart, my rising heart! but, down! + +Fool Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels + when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em + o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried 'Down, + wantons, down!' 'Twas her brother that, in pure + kindness to his horse, buttered his hay. + + [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GLOUCESTER, and Servants] + +KING LEAR Good morrow to you both. + +CORNWALL Hail to your grace! + + [KENT is set at liberty] + +REGAN I am glad to see your highness. + +KING LEAR Regan, I think you are; I know what reason + I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be glad, + I would divorce me from thy mother's tomb, + Sepulchring an adultress. + + [To KENT] + + O, are you free? + Some other time for that. Beloved Regan, + Thy sister's naught: O Regan, she hath tied + Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture, here: + + [Points to his heart] + + I can scarce speak to thee; thou'lt not believe + With how depraved a quality--O Regan! + +REGAN I pray you, sir, take patience: I have hope. + You less know how to value her desert + Than she to scant her duty. + +KING LEAR Say, how is that? + +REGAN I cannot think my sister in the least + Would fail her obligation: if, sir, perchance + She have restrain'd the riots of your followers, + 'Tis on such ground, and to such wholesome end, + As clears her from all blame. + +KING LEAR My curses on her! + +REGAN O, sir, you are old. + Nature in you stands on the very verge + Of her confine: you should be ruled and led + By some discretion, that discerns your state + Better than you yourself. Therefore, I pray you, + That to our sister you do make return; + Say you have wrong'd her, sir. + +KING LEAR Ask her forgiveness? + Do you but mark how this becomes the house: + 'Dear daughter, I confess that I am old; + + [Kneeling] + + Age is unnecessary: on my knees I beg + That you'll vouchsafe me raiment, bed, and food.' + +REGAN Good sir, no more; these are unsightly tricks: + Return you to my sister. + +KING LEAR [Rising] Never, Regan: + She hath abated me of half my train; + Look'd black upon me; struck me with her tongue, + Most serpent-like, upon the very heart: + All the stored vengeances of heaven fall + On her ingrateful top! Strike her young bones, + You taking airs, with lameness! + +CORNWALL Fie, sir, fie! + +KING LEAR You nimble lightnings, dart your blinding flames + Into her scornful eyes! Infect her beauty, + You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful sun, + To fall and blast her pride! + +REGAN O the blest gods! so will you wish on me, + When the rash mood is on. + +KING LEAR No, Regan, thou shalt never have my curse: + Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give + Thee o'er to harshness: her eyes are fierce; but thine + Do comfort and not burn. 'Tis not in thee + To grudge my pleasures, to cut off my train, + To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes, + And in conclusion to oppose the bolt + Against my coming in: thou better know'st + The offices of nature, bond of childhood, + Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude; + Thy half o' the kingdom hast thou not forgot, + Wherein I thee endow'd. + +REGAN Good sir, to the purpose. + +KING LEAR Who put my man i' the stocks? + + [Tucket within] + +CORNWALL What trumpet's that? + +REGAN I know't, my sister's: this approves her letter, + That she would soon be here. + + [Enter OSWALD] + + Is your lady come? + +KING LEAR This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd pride + Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows. + Out, varlet, from my sight! + +CORNWALL What means your grace? + +KING LEAR Who stock'd my servant? Regan, I have good hope + Thou didst not know on't. Who comes here? O heavens, + + [Enter GONERIL] + + If you do love old men, if your sweet sway + Allow obedience, if yourselves are old, + Make it your cause; send down, and take my part! + + [To GONERIL] + + Art not ashamed to look upon this beard? + O Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? + +GONERIL Why not by the hand, sir? How have I offended? + All's not offence that indiscretion finds + And dotage terms so. + +KING LEAR O sides, you are too tough; + Will you yet hold? How came my man i' the stocks? + +CORNWALL I set him there, sir: but his own disorders + Deserved much less advancement. + +KING LEAR You! did you? + +REGAN I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. + If, till the expiration of your month, + You will return and sojourn with my sister, + Dismissing half your train, come then to me: + I am now from home, and out of that provision + Which shall be needful for your entertainment. + +KING LEAR Return to her, and fifty men dismiss'd? + No, rather I abjure all roofs, and choose + To wage against the enmity o' the air; + To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,-- + Necessity's sharp pinch! Return with her? + Why, the hot-blooded France, that dowerless took + Our youngest born, I could as well be brought + To knee his throne, and, squire-like; pension beg + To keep base life afoot. Return with her? + Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter + To this detested groom. + + [Pointing at OSWALD] + +GONERIL At your choice, sir. + +KING LEAR I prithee, daughter, do not make me mad: + I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: + We'll no more meet, no more see one another: + But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; + Or rather a disease that's in my flesh, + Which I must needs call mine: thou art a boil, + A plague-sore, an embossed carbuncle, + In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; + Let shame come when it will, I do not call it: + I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot, + Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: + Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure: + I can be patient; I can stay with Regan, + I and my hundred knights. + +REGAN Not altogether so: + I look'd not for you yet, nor am provided + For your fit welcome. Give ear, sir, to my sister; + For those that mingle reason with your passion + Must be content to think you old, and so-- + But she knows what she does. + +KING LEAR Is this well spoken? + +REGAN I dare avouch it, sir: what, fifty followers? + Is it not well? What should you need of more? + Yea, or so many, sith that both charge and danger + Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? 'Tis hard; almost impossible. + +GONERIL Why might not you, my lord, receive attendance + From those that she calls servants or from mine? + +REGAN Why not, my lord? If then they chanced to slack you, + We could control them. If you will come to me,-- + For now I spy a danger,--I entreat you + To bring but five and twenty: to no more + Will I give place or notice. + +KING LEAR I gave you all-- + +REGAN And in good time you gave it. + +KING LEAR Made you my guardians, my depositaries; + But kept a reservation to be follow'd + With such a number. What, must I come to you + With five and twenty, Regan? said you so? + +REGAN And speak't again, my lord; no more with me. + +KING LEAR Those wicked creatures yet do look well-favour'd, + When others are more wicked: not being the worst + Stands in some rank of praise. + + [To GONERIL] + + I'll go with thee: + Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty, + And thou art twice her love. + +GONERIL Hear me, my lord; + What need you five and twenty, ten, or five, + To follow in a house where twice so many + Have a command to tend you? + +REGAN What need one? + +KING LEAR O, reason not the need: our basest beggars + Are in the poorest thing superfluous: + Allow not nature more than nature needs, + Man's life's as cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; + If only to go warm were gorgeous, + Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, + Which scarcely keeps thee warm. But, for true need,-- + You heavens, give me that patience, patience I need! + You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, + As full of grief as age; wretched in both! + If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts + Against their father, fool me not so much + To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, + And let not women's weapons, water-drops, + Stain my man's cheeks! No, you unnatural hags, + I will have such revenges on you both, + That all the world shall--I will do such things,-- + What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be + The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep + No, I'll not weep: + I have full cause of weeping; but this heart + Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, + Or ere I'll weep. O fool, I shall go mad! + + [Exeunt KING LEAR, GLOUCESTER, KENT, and Fool] + + [Storm and tempest] + +CORNWALL Let us withdraw; 'twill be a storm. + +REGAN This house is little: the old man and his people + Cannot be well bestow'd. + +GONERIL 'Tis his own blame; hath put himself from rest, + And must needs taste his folly. + +REGAN For his particular, I'll receive him gladly, + But not one follower. + +GONERIL So am I purposed. + Where is my lord of Gloucester? + +CORNWALL Follow'd the old man forth: he is return'd. + + [Re-enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER The king is in high rage. + +CORNWALL Whither is he going? + +GLOUCESTER He calls to horse; but will I know not whither. + +CORNWALL 'Tis best to give him way; he leads himself. + +GONERIL My lord, entreat him by no means to stay. + +GLOUCESTER Alack, the night comes on, and the bleak winds + Do sorely ruffle; for many miles about + There's scarce a bush. + +REGAN O, sir, to wilful men, + The injuries that they themselves procure + Must be their schoolmasters. Shut up your doors: + He is attended with a desperate train; + And what they may incense him to, being apt + To have his ear abused, wisdom bids fear. + +CORNWALL Shut up your doors, my lord; 'tis a wild night: + My Regan counsels well; come out o' the storm. + + [Exeunt] + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A heath. + + + [Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting] + +KENT Who's there, besides foul weather? + +Gentleman One minded like the weather, most unquietly. + +KENT I know you. Where's the king? + +Gentleman Contending with the fretful element: + Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea, + Or swell the curled water 'bove the main, + That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, + Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, + Catch in their fury, and make nothing of; + Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn + The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. + This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, + The lion and the belly-pinched wolf + Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, + And bids what will take all. + +KENT But who is with him? + +Gentleman None but the fool; who labours to out-jest + His heart-struck injuries. + +KENT Sir, I do know you; + And dare, upon the warrant of my note, + Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, + Although as yet the face of it be cover'd + With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Cornwall; + Who have--as who have not, that their great stars + Throned and set high?--servants, who seem no less, + Which are to France the spies and speculations + Intelligent of our state; what hath been seen, + Either in snuffs and packings of the dukes, + Or the hard rein which both of them have borne + Against the old kind king; or something deeper, + Whereof perchance these are but furnishings; + But, true it is, from France there comes a power + Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already, + Wise in our negligence, have secret feet + In some of our best ports, and are at point + To show their open banner. Now to you: + If on my credit you dare build so far + To make your speed to Dover, you shall find + Some that will thank you, making just report + Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow + The king hath cause to plain. + I am a gentleman of blood and breeding; + And, from some knowledge and assurance, offer + This office to you. + +Gentleman I will talk further with you. + +KENT No, do not. + For confirmation that I am much more + Than my out-wall, open this purse, and take + What it contains. If you shall see Cordelia,-- + As fear not but you shall,--show her this ring; + And she will tell you who your fellow is + That yet you do not know. Fie on this storm! + I will go seek the king. + +Gentleman Give me your hand: have you no more to say? + +KENT Few words, but, to effect, more than all yet; + That, when we have found the king,--in which your pain + That way, I'll this,--he that first lights on him + Holla the other. + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Another part of the heath. Storm still. + + + [Enter KING LEAR and Fool] + +KING LEAR Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! + You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout + Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! + You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, + Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, + Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder, + Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world! + Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once, + That make ingrateful man! + +Fool O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry + house is better than this rain-water out o' door. + Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing: + here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool. + +KING LEAR Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain! + Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: + I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; + I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, + You owe me no subscription: then let fall + Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave, + A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man: + But yet I call you servile ministers, + That have with two pernicious daughters join'd + Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head + So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul! + +Fool He that has a house to put's head in has a good + head-piece. + The cod-piece that will house + Before the head has any, + The head and he shall louse; + So beggars marry many. + The man that makes his toe + What he his heart should make + Shall of a corn cry woe, + And turn his sleep to wake. + For there was never yet fair woman but she made + mouths in a glass. + +KING LEAR No, I will be the pattern of all patience; + I will say nothing. + + [Enter KENT] + +KENT Who's there? + +Fool Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise + man and a fool. + +KENT Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night + Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies + Gallow the very wanderers of the dark, + And make them keep their caves: since I was man, + Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, + Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never + Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry + The affliction nor the fear. + +KING LEAR Let the great gods, + That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, + Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, + That hast within thee undivulged crimes, + Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand; + Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue + That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake, + That under covert and convenient seeming + Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts, + Rive your concealing continents, and cry + These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man + More sinn'd against than sinning. + +KENT Alack, bare-headed! + Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; + Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest: + Repose you there; while I to this hard house-- + More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised; + Which even but now, demanding after you, + Denied me to come in--return, and force + Their scanted courtesy. + +KING LEAR My wits begin to turn. + Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold? + I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow? + The art of our necessities is strange, + That can make vile things precious. Come, + your hovel. + Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart + That's sorry yet for thee. + +Fool [Singing] + + He that has and a little tiny wit-- + With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,-- + Must make content with his fortunes fit, + For the rain it raineth every day. + +KING LEAR True, my good boy. Come, bring us to this hovel. + + [Exeunt KING LEAR and KENT] + +Fool This is a brave night to cool a courtezan. + I'll speak a prophecy ere I go: + When priests are more in word than matter; + When brewers mar their malt with water; + When nobles are their tailors' tutors; + No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors; + When every case in law is right; + No squire in debt, nor no poor knight; + When slanders do not live in tongues; + Nor cutpurses come not to throngs; + When usurers tell their gold i' the field; + And bawds and whores do churches build; + Then shall the realm of Albion + Come to great confusion: + Then comes the time, who lives to see't, + That going shall be used with feet. + This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER and EDMUND] + +GLOUCESTER Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this unnatural + dealing. When I desire their leave that I might + pity him, they took from me the use of mine own + house; charged me, on pain of their perpetual + displeasure, neither to speak of him, entreat for + him, nor any way sustain him. + +EDMUND Most savage and unnatural! + +GLOUCESTER Go to; say you nothing. There's a division betwixt + the dukes; and a worse matter than that: I have + received a letter this night; 'tis dangerous to be + spoken; I have locked the letter in my closet: + these injuries the king now bears will be revenged + home; there's part of a power already footed: we + must incline to the king. I will seek him, and + privily relieve him: go you and maintain talk with + the duke, that my charity be not of him perceived: + if he ask for me. I am ill, and gone to bed. + Though I die for it, as no less is threatened me, + the king my old master must be relieved. There is + some strange thing toward, Edmund; pray you, be careful. + + [Exit] + +EDMUND This courtesy, forbid thee, shall the duke + Instantly know; and of that letter too: + This seems a fair deserving, and must draw me + That which my father loses; no less than all: + The younger rises when the old doth fall. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The heath. Before a hovel. + + + [Enter KING LEAR, KENT, and Fool] + +KENT Here is the place, my lord; good my lord, enter: + The tyranny of the open night's too rough + For nature to endure. + + [Storm still] + +KING LEAR Let me alone. + +KENT Good my lord, enter here. + +KING LEAR Wilt break my heart? + +KENT I had rather break mine own. Good my lord, enter. + +KING LEAR Thou think'st 'tis much that this contentious storm + Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; + But where the greater malady is fix'd, + The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'ldst shun a bear; + But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, + Thou'ldst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the + mind's free, + The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind + Doth from my senses take all feeling else + Save what beats there. Filial ingratitude! + Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand + For lifting food to't? But I will punish home: + No, I will weep no more. In such a night + To shut me out! Pour on; I will endure. + In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! + Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,-- + O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; + No more of that. + +KENT Good my lord, enter here. + +KING LEAR Prithee, go in thyself: seek thine own ease: + This tempest will not give me leave to ponder + On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in. + + [To the Fool] + + In, boy; go first. You houseless poverty,-- + Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep. + + [Fool goes in] + + Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, + That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, + How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, + Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you + From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en + Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; + Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, + That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, + And show the heavens more just. + +EDGAR [Within] Fathom and half, fathom and half! Poor Tom! + + [The Fool runs out from the hovel] + +Fool Come not in here, nuncle, here's a spirit + Help me, help me! + +KENT Give me thy hand. Who's there? + +Fool A spirit, a spirit: he says his name's poor Tom. + +KENT What art thou that dost grumble there i' the straw? + Come forth. + + [Enter EDGAR disguised as a mad man] + +EDGAR Away! the foul fiend follows me! + Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind. + Hum! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. + +KING LEAR Hast thou given all to thy two daughters? + And art thou come to this? + +EDGAR Who gives any thing to poor Tom? whom the foul + fiend hath led through fire and through flame, and + through ford and whirlipool e'er bog and quagmire; + that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters + in his pew; set ratsbane by his porridge; made film + proud of heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over + four-inched bridges, to course his own shadow for a + traitor. Bless thy five wits! Tom's a-cold,--O, do + de, do de, do de. Bless thee from whirlwinds, + star-blasting, and taking! Do poor Tom some + charity, whom the foul fiend vexes: there could I + have him now,--and there,--and there again, and there. + + [Storm still] + +KING LEAR What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? + Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give them all? + +Fool Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. + +KING LEAR Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air + Hang fated o'er men's faults light on thy daughters! + +KENT He hath no daughters, sir. + +KING LEAR Death, traitor! nothing could have subdued nature + To such a lowness but his unkind daughters. + Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers + Should have thus little mercy on their flesh? + Judicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot + Those pelican daughters. + +EDGAR Pillicock sat on Pillicock-hill: + Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! + +Fool This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen. + +EDGAR Take heed o' the foul fiend: obey thy parents; + keep thy word justly; swear not; commit not with + man's sworn spouse; set not thy sweet heart on proud + array. Tom's a-cold. + +KING LEAR What hast thou been? + +EDGAR A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled + my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of + my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with + her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and + broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that + slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: + wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman + out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of + ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, + wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. + Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of + silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot + out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen + from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend. + Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind: + Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny. + Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by. + + [Storm still] + +KING LEAR Why, thou wert better in thy grave than to answer + with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. + Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou + owest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep + no wool, the cat no perfume. Ha! here's three on + 's are sophisticated! Thou art the thing itself: + unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, + forked animal as thou art. Off, off, you lendings! + come unbutton here. + + [Tearing off his clothes] + +Fool Prithee, nuncle, be contented; 'tis a naughty night + to swim in. Now a little fire in a wild field were + like an old lecher's heart; a small spark, all the + rest on's body cold. Look, here comes a walking fire. + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, with a torch] + +EDGAR This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins + at curfew, and walks till the first cock; he gives + the web and the pin, squints the eye, and makes the + hare-lip; mildews the white wheat, and hurts the + poor creature of earth. + S. Withold footed thrice the old; + He met the night-mare, and her nine-fold; + Bid her alight, + And her troth plight, + And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee! + +KENT How fares your grace? + +KING LEAR What's he? + +KENT Who's there? What is't you seek? + +GLOUCESTER What are you there? Your names? + +EDGAR Poor Tom; that eats the swimming frog, the toad, + the tadpole, the wall-newt and the water; that in + the fury of his heart, when the foul fiend rages, + eats cow-dung for sallets; swallows the old rat and + the ditch-dog; drinks the green mantle of the + standing pool; who is whipped from tithing to + tithing, and stock- punished, and imprisoned; who + hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to his + body, horse to ride, and weapon to wear; + But mice and rats, and such small deer, + Have been Tom's food for seven long year. + Beware my follower. Peace, Smulkin; peace, thou fiend! + +GLOUCESTER What, hath your grace no better company? + +EDGAR The prince of darkness is a gentleman: + Modo he's call'd, and Mahu. + +GLOUCESTER Our flesh and blood is grown so vile, my lord, + That it doth hate what gets it. + +EDGAR Poor Tom's a-cold. + +GLOUCESTER Go in with me: my duty cannot suffer + To obey in all your daughters' hard commands: + Though their injunction be to bar my doors, + And let this tyrannous night take hold upon you, + Yet have I ventured to come seek you out, + And bring you where both fire and food is ready. + +KING LEAR First let me talk with this philosopher. + What is the cause of thunder? + +KENT Good my lord, take his offer; go into the house. + +KING LEAR I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban. + What is your study? + +EDGAR How to prevent the fiend, and to kill vermin. + +KING LEAR Let me ask you one word in private. + +KENT Importune him once more to go, my lord; + His wits begin to unsettle. + +GLOUCESTER Canst thou blame him? + + [Storm still] + + His daughters seek his death: ah, that good Kent! + He said it would be thus, poor banish'd man! + Thou say'st the king grows mad; I'll tell thee, friend, + I am almost mad myself: I had a son, + Now outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my life, + But lately, very late: I loved him, friend; + No father his son dearer: truth to tell thee, + The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's this! + I do beseech your grace,-- + +KING LEAR O, cry your mercy, sir. + Noble philosopher, your company. + +EDGAR Tom's a-cold. + +GLOUCESTER In, fellow, there, into the hovel: keep thee warm. + +KING LEAR Come let's in all. + +KENT This way, my lord. + +KING LEAR With him; + I will keep still with my philosopher. + +KENT Good my lord, soothe him; let him take the fellow. + +GLOUCESTER Take him you on. + +KENT Sirrah, come on; go along with us. + +KING LEAR Come, good Athenian. + +GLOUCESTER No words, no words: hush. + +EDGAR Child Rowland to the dark tower came, + His word was still,--Fie, foh, and fum, + I smell the blood of a British man. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter CORNWALL and EDMUND] + +CORNWALL I will have my revenge ere I depart his house. + +EDMUND How, my lord, I may be censured, that nature thus + gives way to loyalty, something fears me to think + of. + +CORNWALL I now perceive, it was not altogether your + brother's evil disposition made him seek his death; + but a provoking merit, set a-work by a reprovable + badness in himself. + +EDMUND How malicious is my fortune, that I must repent to + be just! This is the letter he spoke of, which + approves him an intelligent party to the advantages + of France: O heavens! that this treason were not, + or not I the detector! + +CORNWALL o with me to the duchess. + +EDMUND If the matter of this paper be certain, you have + mighty business in hand. + +CORNWALL True or false, it hath made thee earl of + Gloucester. Seek out where thy father is, that he + may be ready for our apprehension. + +EDMUND [Aside] If I find him comforting the king, it will + stuff his suspicion more fully.--I will persevere in + my course of loyalty, though the conflict be sore + between that and my blood. + +CORNWALL I will lay trust upon thee; and thou shalt find a + dearer father in my love. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI A chamber in a farmhouse adjoining the castle. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, KING LEAR, KENT, Fool, and EDGAR] + +GLOUCESTER Here is better than the open air; take it + thankfully. I will piece out the comfort with what + addition I can: I will not be long from you. + +KENT All the power of his wits have given way to his + impatience: the gods reward your kindness! + + [Exit GLOUCESTER] + +EDGAR Frateretto calls me; and tells me + Nero is an angler in the lake of darkness. + Pray, innocent, and beware the foul fiend. + +Fool Prithee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a + gentleman or a yeoman? + +KING LEAR A king, a king! + +Fool No, he's a yeoman that has a gentleman to his son; + for he's a mad yeoman that sees his son a gentleman + before him. + +KING LEAR To have a thousand with red burning spits + Come hissing in upon 'em,-- + +EDGAR The foul fiend bites my back. + +Fool He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a + horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath. + +KING LEAR It shall be done; I will arraign them straight. + + [To EDGAR] + + Come, sit thou here, most learned justicer; + + [To the Fool] + + Thou, sapient sir, sit here. Now, you she foxes! + +EDGAR Look, where he stands and glares! + Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam? + Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,-- + +Fool Her boat hath a leak, + And she must not speak + Why she dares not come over to thee. + +EDGAR The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in the voice of a + nightingale. Hopdance cries in Tom's belly for two + white herring. Croak not, black angel; I have no + food for thee. + +KENT How do you, sir? Stand you not so amazed: + Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions? + +KING LEAR I'll see their trial first. Bring in the evidence. + + [To EDGAR] + + Thou robed man of justice, take thy place; + + [To the Fool] + + And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, + Bench by his side: + + [To KENT] + + you are o' the commission, + Sit you too. + +EDGAR Let us deal justly. + Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd? + Thy sheep be in the corn; + And for one blast of thy minikin mouth, + Thy sheep shall take no harm. + Pur! the cat is gray. + +KING LEAR Arraign her first; 'tis Goneril. I here take my + oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked the + poor king her father. + +Fool Come hither, mistress. Is your name Goneril? + +KING LEAR She cannot deny it. + +Fool Cry you mercy, I took you for a joint-stool. + +KING LEAR And here's another, whose warp'd looks proclaim + What store her heart is made on. Stop her there! + Arms, arms, sword, fire! Corruption in the place! + False justicer, why hast thou let her 'scape? + +EDGAR Bless thy five wits! + +KENT O pity! Sir, where is the patience now, + That thou so oft have boasted to retain? + +EDGAR [Aside] My tears begin to take his part so much, + They'll mar my counterfeiting. + +KING LEAR The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and + Sweet-heart, see, they bark at me. + +EDGAR Tom will throw his head at them. Avaunt, you curs! + Be thy mouth or black or white, + Tooth that poisons if it bite; + Mastiff, grey-hound, mongrel grim, + Hound or spaniel, brach or lym, + Or bobtail tike or trundle-tail, + Tom will make them weep and wail: + For, with throwing thus my head, + Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. + Do de, de, de. Sessa! Come, march to wakes and + fairs and market-towns. Poor Tom, thy horn is dry. + +KING LEAR Then let them anatomize Regan; see what breeds + about her heart. Is there any cause in nature that + makes these hard hearts? + + [To EDGAR] + + You, sir, I entertain for one of my hundred; only I + do not like the fashion of your garments: you will + say they are Persian attire: but let them be changed. + +KENT Now, good my lord, lie here and rest awhile. + +KING LEAR Make no noise, make no noise; draw the curtains: + so, so, so. We'll go to supper i' he morning. So, so, so. + +Fool And I'll go to bed at noon. + + [Re-enter GLOUCESTER] + +GLOUCESTER Come hither, friend: where is the king my master? + +KENT Here, sir; but trouble him not, his wits are gone. + +GLOUCESTER Good friend, I prithee, take him in thy arms; + I have o'erheard a plot of death upon him: + There is a litter ready; lay him in 't, + And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou shalt meet + Both welcome and protection. Take up thy master: + If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life, + With thine, and all that offer to defend him, + Stand in assured loss: take up, take up; + And follow me, that will to some provision + Give thee quick conduct. + +KENT Oppressed nature sleeps: + This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken senses, + Which, if convenience will not allow, + Stand in hard cure. + + [To the Fool] + + Come, help to bear thy master; + Thou must not stay behind. + +GLOUCESTER Come, come, away. + + [Exeunt all but EDGAR] + +EDGAR When we our betters see bearing our woes, + We scarcely think our miseries our foes. + Who alone suffers suffers most i' the mind, + Leaving free things and happy shows behind: + But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er skip, + When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. + How light and portable my pain seems now, + When that which makes me bend makes the king bow, + He childed as I father'd! Tom, away! + Mark the high noises; and thyself bewray, + When false opinion, whose wrong thought defiles thee, + In thy just proof, repeals and reconciles thee. + What will hap more to-night, safe 'scape the king! + Lurk, lurk. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VII Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter CORNWALL, REGAN, GONERIL, EDMUND, and Servants] + +CORNWALL Post speedily to my lord your husband; show him + this letter: the army of France is landed. Seek + out the villain Gloucester. + + [Exeunt some of the Servants] + +REGAN Hang him instantly. + +GONERIL Pluck out his eyes. + +CORNWALL Leave him to my displeasure. Edmund, keep you our + sister company: the revenges we are bound to take + upon your traitorous father are not fit for your + beholding. Advise the duke, where you are going, to + a most festinate preparation: we are bound to the + like. Our posts shall be swift and intelligent + betwixt us. Farewell, dear sister: farewell, my + lord of Gloucester. + + [Enter OSWALD] + + How now! where's the king? + +OSWALD My lord of Gloucester hath convey'd him hence: + Some five or six and thirty of his knights, + Hot questrists after him, met him at gate; + Who, with some other of the lords dependants, + Are gone with him towards Dover; where they boast + To have well-armed friends. + +CORNWALL Get horses for your mistress. + +GONERIL Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. + +CORNWALL Edmund, farewell. + + [Exeunt GONERIL, EDMUND, and OSWALD] + + Go seek the traitor Gloucester, + Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us. + + [Exeunt other Servants] + + Though well we may not pass upon his life + Without the form of justice, yet our power + Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men + May blame, but not control. Who's there? the traitor? + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, brought in by two or three] + +REGAN Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. + +CORNWALL Bind fast his corky arms. + +GLOUCESTER What mean your graces? Good my friends, consider + You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. + +CORNWALL Bind him, I say. + + [Servants bind him] + +REGAN Hard, hard. O filthy traitor! + +GLOUCESTER Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none. + +CORNWALL To this chair bind him. Villain, thou shalt find-- + + [REGAN plucks his beard] + +GLOUCESTER By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done + To pluck me by the beard. + +REGAN So white, and such a traitor! + +GLOUCESTER Naughty lady, + These hairs, which thou dost ravish from my chin, + Will quicken, and accuse thee: I am your host: + With robbers' hands my hospitable favours + You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? + +CORNWALL Come, sir, what letters had you late from France? + +REGAN Be simple answerer, for we know the truth. + +CORNWALL And what confederacy have you with the traitors + Late footed in the kingdom? + +REGAN To whose hands have you sent the lunatic king? Speak. + +GLOUCESTER I have a letter guessingly set down, + Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, + And not from one opposed. + +CORNWALL Cunning. + +REGAN And false. + +CORNWALL Where hast thou sent the king? + +GLOUCESTER To Dover. + +REGAN Wherefore to Dover? Wast thou not charged at peril-- + +CORNWALL Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that. + +GLOUCESTER I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course. + +REGAN Wherefore to Dover, sir? + +GLOUCESTER Because I would not see thy cruel nails + Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister + In his anointed flesh stick boarish fangs. + The sea, with such a storm as his bare head + In hell-black night endured, would have buoy'd up, + And quench'd the stelled fires: + Yet, poor old heart, he holp the heavens to rain. + If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern time, + Thou shouldst have said 'Good porter, turn the key,' + All cruels else subscribed: but I shall see + The winged vengeance overtake such children. + +CORNWALL See't shalt thou never. Fellows, hold the chair. + Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. + +GLOUCESTER He that will think to live till he be old, + Give me some help! O cruel! O you gods! + +REGAN One side will mock another; the other too. + +CORNWALL If you see vengeance,-- + +First Servant Hold your hand, my lord: + I have served you ever since I was a child; + But better service have I never done you + Than now to bid you hold. + +REGAN How now, you dog! + +First Servant If you did wear a beard upon your chin, + I'd shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean? + +CORNWALL My villain! + + [They draw and fight] + +First Servant Nay, then, come on, and take the chance of anger. + +REGAN Give me thy sword. A peasant stand up thus! + + [Takes a sword, and runs at him behind] + +First Servant O, I am slain! My lord, you have one eye left + To see some mischief on him. O! + + [Dies] + +CORNWALL Lest it see more, prevent it. Out, vile jelly! + Where is thy lustre now? + +GLOUCESTER All dark and comfortless. Where's my son Edmund? + Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, + To quit this horrid act. + +REGAN Out, treacherous villain! + Thou call'st on him that hates thee: it was he + That made the overture of thy treasons to us; + Who is too good to pity thee. + +GLOUCESTER O my follies! then Edgar was abused. + Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him! + +REGAN Go thrust him out at gates, and let him smell + His way to Dover. + + [Exit one with GLOUCESTER] + + How is't, my lord? how look you? + +CORNWALL I have received a hurt: follow me, lady. + Turn out that eyeless villain; throw this slave + Upon the dunghill. Regan, I bleed apace: + Untimely comes this hurt: give me your arm. + + [Exit CORNWALL, led by REGAN] + +Second Servant I'll never care what wickedness I do, + If this man come to good. + +Third Servant If she live long, + And in the end meet the old course of death, + Women will all turn monsters. + +Second Servant Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam + To lead him where he would: his roguish madness + Allows itself to any thing. + +Third Servant Go thou: I'll fetch some flax and whites of eggs + To apply to his bleeding face. Now, heaven help him! + + [Exeunt severally] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I The heath. + + + [Enter EDGAR] + +EDGAR Yet better thus, and known to be contemn'd, + Than still contemn'd and flatter'd. To be worst, + The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune, + Stands still in esperance, lives not in fear: + The lamentable change is from the best; + The worst returns to laughter. Welcome, then, + Thou unsubstantial air that I embrace! + The wretch that thou hast blown unto the worst + Owes nothing to thy blasts. But who comes here? + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, led by an Old Man] + + My father, poorly led? World, world, O world! + But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee, + Lie would not yield to age. + +Old Man O, my good lord, I have been your tenant, and + your father's tenant, these fourscore years. + +GLOUCESTER Away, get thee away; good friend, be gone: + Thy comforts can do me no good at all; + Thee they may hurt. + +Old Man Alack, sir, you cannot see your way. + +GLOUCESTER I have no way, and therefore want no eyes; + I stumbled when I saw: full oft 'tis seen, + Our means secure us, and our mere defects + Prove our commodities. O dear son Edgar, + The food of thy abused father's wrath! + Might I but live to see thee in my touch, + I'ld say I had eyes again! + +Old Man How now! Who's there? + +EDGAR [Aside] O gods! Who is't can say 'I am at + the worst'? + I am worse than e'er I was. + +Old Man 'Tis poor mad Tom. + +EDGAR [Aside] And worse I may be yet: the worst is not + So long as we can say 'This is the worst.' + +Old Man Fellow, where goest? + +GLOUCESTER Is it a beggar-man? + +Old Man Madman and beggar too. + +GLOUCESTER He has some reason, else he could not beg. + I' the last night's storm I such a fellow saw; + Which made me think a man a worm: my son + Came then into my mind; and yet my mind + Was then scarce friends with him: I have heard + more since. + As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods. + They kill us for their sport. + +EDGAR [Aside] How should this be? + Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, + Angering itself and others.--Bless thee, master! + +GLOUCESTER Is that the naked fellow? + +Old Man Ay, my lord. + +GLOUCESTER Then, prithee, get thee gone: if, for my sake, + Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain, + I' the way toward Dover, do it for ancient love; + And bring some covering for this naked soul, + Who I'll entreat to lead me. + +Old Man Alack, sir, he is mad. + +GLOUCESTER 'Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind. + Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure; + Above the rest, be gone. + +Old Man I'll bring him the best 'parel that I have, + Come on't what will. + + [Exit] + +GLOUCESTER Sirrah, naked fellow,-- + +EDGAR Poor Tom's a-cold. + + [Aside] + + I cannot daub it further. + +GLOUCESTER Come hither, fellow. + +EDGAR [Aside] And yet I must.--Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed. + +GLOUCESTER Know'st thou the way to Dover? + +EDGAR Both stile and gate, horse-way and foot-path. Poor + Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless + thee, good man's son, from the foul fiend! five + fiends have been in poor Tom at once; of lust, as + Obidicut; Hobbididence, prince of dumbness; Mahu, of + stealing; Modo, of murder; Flibbertigibbet, of + mopping and mowing, who since possesses chambermaids + and waiting-women. So, bless thee, master! + +GLOUCESTER Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues + Have humbled to all strokes: that I am wretched + Makes thee the happier: heavens, deal so still! + Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, + That slaves your ordinance, that will not see + Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; + So distribution should undo excess, + And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover? + +EDGAR Ay, master. + +GLOUCESTER There is a cliff, whose high and bending head + Looks fearfully in the confined deep: + Bring me but to the very brim of it, + And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear + With something rich about me: from that place + I shall no leading need. + +EDGAR Give me thy arm: + Poor Tom shall lead thee. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Before ALBANY's palace. + + + [Enter GONERIL and EDMUND] + +GONERIL Welcome, my lord: I marvel our mild husband + Not met us on the way. + + [Enter OSWALD] + + Now, where's your master'? + +OSWALD Madam, within; but never man so changed. + I told him of the army that was landed; + He smiled at it: I told him you were coming: + His answer was 'The worse:' of Gloucester's treachery, + And of the loyal service of his son, + When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot, + And told me I had turn'd the wrong side out: + What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him; + What like, offensive. + +GONERIL [To EDMUND] Then shall you go no further. + It is the cowish terror of his spirit, + That dares not undertake: he'll not feel wrongs + Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way + May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother; + Hasten his musters and conduct his powers: + I must change arms at home, and give the distaff + Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant + Shall pass between us: ere long you are like to hear, + If you dare venture in your own behalf, + A mistress's command. Wear this; spare speech; + + [Giving a favour] + + Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak, + Would stretch thy spirits up into the air: + Conceive, and fare thee well. + +EDMUND Yours in the ranks of death. + +GONERIL My most dear Gloucester! + + [Exit EDMUND] + + O, the difference of man and man! + To thee a woman's services are due: + My fool usurps my body. + +OSWALD Madam, here comes my lord. + + [Exit] + + [Enter ALBANY] + +GONERIL I have been worth the whistle. + +ALBANY O Goneril! + You are not worth the dust which the rude wind + Blows in your face. I fear your disposition: + That nature, which contemns its origin, + Cannot be border'd certain in itself; + She that herself will sliver and disbranch + From her material sap, perforce must wither + And come to deadly use. + +GONERIL No more; the text is foolish. + +ALBANY Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile: + Filths savour but themselves. What have you done? + Tigers, not daughters, what have you perform'd? + A father, and a gracious aged man, + Whose reverence even the head-lugg'd bear would lick, + Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you madded. + Could my good brother suffer you to do it? + A man, a prince, by him so benefited! + If that the heavens do not their visible spirits + Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, + It will come, + Humanity must perforce prey on itself, + Like monsters of the deep. + +GONERIL Milk-liver'd man! + That bear'st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs; + Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning + Thine honour from thy suffering; that not know'st + Fools do those villains pity who are punish'd + Ere they have done their mischief. Where's thy drum? + France spreads his banners in our noiseless land; + With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; + Whiles thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and criest + 'Alack, why does he so?' + +ALBANY See thyself, devil! + Proper deformity seems not in the fiend + So horrid as in woman. + +GONERIL O vain fool! + +ALBANY Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, for shame, + Be-monster not thy feature. Were't my fitness + To let these hands obey my blood, + They are apt enough to dislocate and tear + Thy flesh and bones: howe'er thou art a fiend, + A woman's shape doth shield thee. + +GONERIL Marry, your manhood now-- + + [Enter a Messenger] + +ALBANY What news? + +Messenger O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall's dead: + Slain by his servant, going to put out + The other eye of Gloucester. + +ALBANY Gloucester's eye! + +Messenger A servant that he bred, thrill'd with remorse, + Opposed against the act, bending his sword + To his great master; who, thereat enraged, + Flew on him, and amongst them fell'd him dead; + But not without that harmful stroke, which since + Hath pluck'd him after. + +ALBANY This shows you are above, + You justicers, that these our nether crimes + So speedily can venge! But, O poor Gloucester! + Lost he his other eye? + +Messenger Both, both, my lord. + This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; + 'Tis from your sister. + +GONERIL [Aside] One way I like this well; + But being widow, and my Gloucester with her, + May all the building in my fancy pluck + Upon my hateful life: another way, + The news is not so tart.--I'll read, and answer. + + [Exit] + +ALBANY Where was his son when they did take his eyes? + +Messenger Come with my lady hither. + +ALBANY He is not here. + +Messenger No, my good lord; I met him back again. + +ALBANY Knows he the wickedness? + +Messenger Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd against him; + And quit the house on purpose, that their punishment + Might have the freer course. + +ALBANY Gloucester, I live + To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the king, + And to revenge thine eyes. Come hither, friend: + Tell me what more thou know'st. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The French camp near Dover. + + + [Enter KENT and a Gentleman] + +KENT Why the King of France is so suddenly gone back + know you the reason? + +Gentleman Something he left imperfect in the + state, which since his coming forth is thought + of; which imports to the kingdom so much + fear and danger, that his personal return was + most required and necessary. + +KENT Who hath he left behind him general? + +Gentleman The Marshal of France, Monsieur La Far. + +KENT Did your letters pierce the queen to any + demonstration of grief? + +Gentleman Ay, sir; she took them, read them in my presence; + And now and then an ample tear trill'd down + Her delicate cheek: it seem'd she was a queen + Over her passion; who, most rebel-like, + Sought to be king o'er her. + +KENT O, then it moved her. + +Gentleman Not to a rage: patience and sorrow strove + Who should express her goodliest. You have seen + Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears + Were like a better way: those happy smilets, + That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know + What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, + As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, + Sorrow would be a rarity most beloved, + If all could so become it. + +KENT Made she no verbal question? + +Gentleman 'Faith, once or twice she heaved the name of 'father' + Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart: + Cried 'Sisters! sisters! Shame of ladies! sisters! + Kent! father! sisters! What, i' the storm? i' the night? + Let pity not be believed!' There she shook + The holy water from her heavenly eyes, + And clamour moisten'd: then away she started + To deal with grief alone. + +KENT It is the stars, + The stars above us, govern our conditions; + Else one self mate and mate could not beget + Such different issues. You spoke not with her since? + +Gentleman No. + +KENT Was this before the king return'd? + +Gentleman No, since. + +KENT Well, sir, the poor distressed Lear's i' the town; + Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers + What we are come about, and by no means + Will yield to see his daughter. + +Gentleman Why, good sir? + +KENT A sovereign shame so elbows him: his own unkindness, + That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd her + To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights + To his dog-hearted daughters, these things sting + His mind so venomously, that burning shame + Detains him from Cordelia. + +Gentleman Alack, poor gentleman! + +KENT Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers you heard not? + +Gentleman 'Tis so, they are afoot. + +KENT Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master Lear, + And leave you to attend him: some dear cause + Will in concealment wrap me up awhile; + When I am known aright, you shall not grieve + Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go + Along with me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The same. A tent. + + + [Enter, with drum and colours, CORDELIA, Doctor, and Soldiers] + +CORDELIA Alack, 'tis he: why, he was met even now + As mad as the vex'd sea; singing aloud; + Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, + With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, + Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow + In our sustaining corn. A century send forth; + Search every acre in the high-grown field, + And bring him to our eye. + + [Exit an Officer] + + What can man's wisdom + In the restoring his bereaved sense? + He that helps him take all my outward worth. + +Doctor There is means, madam: + Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, + The which he lacks; that to provoke in him, + Are many simples operative, whose power + Will close the eye of anguish. + +CORDELIA All blest secrets, + All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, + Spring with my tears! be aidant and remediate + In the good man's distress! Seek, seek for him; + Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life + That wants the means to lead it. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger News, madam; + The British powers are marching hitherward. + +CORDELIA 'Tis known before; our preparation stands + In expectation of them. O dear father, + It is thy business that I go about; + Therefore great France + My mourning and important tears hath pitied. + No blown ambition doth our arms incite, + But love, dear love, and our aged father's right: + Soon may I hear and see him! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Gloucester's castle. + + + [Enter REGAN and OSWALD] + +REGAN But are my brother's powers set forth? + +OSWALD Ay, madam. + +REGAN Himself in person there? + +OSWALD Madam, with much ado: + Your sister is the better soldier. + +REGAN Lord Edmund spake not with your lord at home? + +OSWALD No, madam. + +REGAN What might import my sister's letter to him? + +OSWALD I know not, lady. + +REGAN 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious matter. + It was great ignorance, Gloucester's eyes being out, + To let him live: where he arrives he moves + All hearts against us: Edmund, I think, is gone, + In pity of his misery, to dispatch + His nighted life: moreover, to descry + The strength o' the enemy. + +OSWALD I must needs after him, madam, with my letter. + +REGAN Our troops set forth to-morrow: stay with us; + The ways are dangerous. + +OSWALD I may not, madam: + My lady charged my duty in this business. + +REGAN Why should she write to Edmund? Might not you + Transport her purposes by word? Belike, + Something--I know not what: I'll love thee much, + Let me unseal the letter. + +OSWALD Madam, I had rather-- + +REGAN I know your lady does not love her husband; + I am sure of that: and at her late being here + She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks + To noble Edmund. I know you are of her bosom. + +OSWALD I, madam? + +REGAN I speak in understanding; you are; I know't: + Therefore I do advise you, take this note: + My lord is dead; Edmund and I have talk'd; + And more convenient is he for my hand + Than for your lady's: you may gather more. + If you do find him, pray you, give him this; + And when your mistress hears thus much from you, + I pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. + So, fare you well. + If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor, + Preferment falls on him that cuts him off. + +OSWALD Would I could meet him, madam! I should show + What party I do follow. + +REGAN Fare thee well. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VI Fields near Dover. + + + [Enter GLOUCESTER, and EDGAR dressed like a peasant] + +GLOUCESTER When shall we come to the top of that same hill? + +EDGAR You do climb up it now: look, how we labour. + +GLOUCESTER Methinks the ground is even. + +EDGAR Horrible steep. + Hark, do you hear the sea? + +GLOUCESTER No, truly. + +EDGAR Why, then, your other senses grow imperfect + By your eyes' anguish. + +GLOUCESTER So may it be, indeed: + Methinks thy voice is alter'd; and thou speak'st + In better phrase and matter than thou didst. + +EDGAR You're much deceived: in nothing am I changed + But in my garments. + +GLOUCESTER Methinks you're better spoken. + +EDGAR Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful + And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! + The crows and choughs that wing the midway air + Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down + Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade! + Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: + The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, + Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark, + Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a buoy + Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge, + That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, + Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more; + Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight + Topple down headlong. + +GLOUCESTER Set me where you stand. + +EDGAR Give me your hand: you are now within a foot + Of the extreme verge: for all beneath the moon + Would I not leap upright. + +GLOUCESTER Let go my hand. + Here, friend, 's another purse; in it a jewel + Well worth a poor man's taking: fairies and gods + Prosper it with thee! Go thou farther off; + Bid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. + +EDGAR Now fare you well, good sir. + +GLOUCESTER With all my heart. + +EDGAR Why I do trifle thus with his despair + Is done to cure it. + +GLOUCESTER [Kneeling] O you mighty gods! + This world I do renounce, and, in your sights, + Shake patiently my great affliction off: + If I could bear it longer, and not fall + To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, + My snuff and loathed part of nature should + Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! + Now, fellow, fare thee well. + + [He falls forward] + +EDGAR Gone, sir: farewell. + And yet I know not how conceit may rob + The treasury of life, when life itself + Yields to the theft: had he been where he thought, + By this, had thought been past. Alive or dead? + Ho, you sir! friend! Hear you, sir! speak! + Thus might he pass indeed: yet he revives. + What are you, sir? + +GLOUCESTER Away, and let me die. + +EDGAR Hadst thou been aught but gossamer, feathers, air, + So many fathom down precipitating, + Thou'dst shiver'd like an egg: but thou dost breathe; + Hast heavy substance; bleed'st not; speak'st; art sound. + Ten masts at each make not the altitude + Which thou hast perpendicularly fell: + Thy life's a miracle. Speak yet again. + +GLOUCESTER But have I fall'n, or no? + +EDGAR From the dread summit of this chalky bourn. + Look up a-height; the shrill-gorged lark so far + Cannot be seen or heard: do but look up. + +GLOUCESTER Alack, I have no eyes. + Is wretchedness deprived that benefit, + To end itself by death? 'Twas yet some comfort, + When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage, + And frustrate his proud will. + +EDGAR Give me your arm: + Up: so. How is 't? Feel you your legs? You stand. + +GLOUCESTER Too well, too well. + +EDGAR This is above all strangeness. + Upon the crown o' the cliff, what thing was that + Which parted from you? + +GLOUCESTER A poor unfortunate beggar. + +EDGAR As I stood here below, methought his eyes + Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses, + Horns whelk'd and waved like the enridged sea: + It was some fiend; therefore, thou happy father, + Think that the clearest gods, who make them honours + Of men's impossibilities, have preserved thee. + +GLOUCESTER I do remember now: henceforth I'll bear + Affliction till it do cry out itself + 'Enough, enough,' and die. That thing you speak of, + I took it for a man; often 'twould say + 'The fiend, the fiend:' he led me to that place. + +EDGAR Bear free and patient thoughts. But who comes here? + + [Enter KING LEAR, fantastically dressed with wild flowers] + + The safer sense will ne'er accommodate + His master thus. + +KING LEAR No, they cannot touch me for coining; I am the + king himself. + +EDGAR O thou side-piercing sight! + +KING LEAR Nature's above art in that respect. There's your + press-money. That fellow handles his bow like a + crow-keeper: draw me a clothier's yard. Look, + look, a mouse! Peace, peace; this piece of toasted + cheese will do 't. There's my gauntlet; I'll prove + it on a giant. Bring up the brown bills. O, well + flown, bird! i' the clout, i' the clout: hewgh! + Give the word. + +EDGAR Sweet marjoram. + +KING LEAR Pass. + +GLOUCESTER I know that voice. + +KING LEAR Ha! Goneril, with a white beard! They flattered + me like a dog; and told me I had white hairs in my + beard ere the black ones were there. To say 'ay' + and 'no' to every thing that I said!--'Ay' and 'no' + too was no good divinity. When the rain came to + wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when + the thunder would not peace at my bidding; there I + found 'em, there I smelt 'em out. Go to, they are + not men o' their words: they told me I was every + thing; 'tis a lie, I am not ague-proof. + +GLOUCESTER The trick of that voice I do well remember: + Is 't not the king? + +KING LEAR Ay, every inch a king: + When I do stare, see how the subject quakes. + I pardon that man's life. What was thy cause? Adultery? + Thou shalt not die: die for adultery! No: + The wren goes to 't, and the small gilded fly + Does lecher in my sight. + Let copulation thrive; for Gloucester's bastard son + Was kinder to his father than my daughters + Got 'tween the lawful sheets. + To 't, luxury, pell-mell! for I lack soldiers. + Behold yond simpering dame, + Whose face between her forks presages snow; + That minces virtue, and does shake the head + To hear of pleasure's name; + The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to 't + With a more riotous appetite. + Down from the waist they are Centaurs, + Though women all above: + But to the girdle do the gods inherit, + Beneath is all the fiends'; + There's hell, there's darkness, there's the + sulphurous pit, + Burning, scalding, stench, consumption; fie, + fie, fie! pah, pah! Give me an ounce of civet, + good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: + there's money for thee. + +GLOUCESTER O, let me kiss that hand! + +KING LEAR Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality. + +GLOUCESTER O ruin'd piece of nature! This great world + Shall so wear out to nought. Dost thou know me? + +KING LEAR I remember thine eyes well enough. Dost thou squiny + at me? No, do thy worst, blind Cupid! I'll not + love. Read thou this challenge; mark but the + penning of it. + +GLOUCESTER Were all the letters suns, I could not see one. + +EDGAR I would not take this from report; it is, + And my heart breaks at it. + +KING LEAR Read. + +GLOUCESTER What, with the case of eyes? + +KING LEAR O, ho, are you there with me? No eyes in your + head, nor no money in your purse? Your eyes are in + a heavy case, your purse in a light; yet you see how + this world goes. + +GLOUCESTER I see it feelingly. + +KING LEAR What, art mad? A man may see how this world goes + with no eyes. Look with thine ears: see how yond + justice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark, in + thine ear: change places; and, handy-dandy, which + is the justice, which is the thief? Thou hast seen + a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + +GLOUCESTER Ay, sir. + +KING LEAR And the creature run from the cur? There thou + mightst behold the great image of authority: a + dog's obeyed in office. + Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand! + Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; + Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind + For which thou whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the cozener. + Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; + Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, + And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks: + Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it. + None does offend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em: + Take that of me, my friend, who have the power + To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes; + And like a scurvy politician, seem + To see the things thou dost not. Now, now, now, now: + Pull off my boots: harder, harder: so. + +EDGAR O, matter and impertinency mix'd! Reason in madness! + +KING LEAR If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take my eyes. + I know thee well enough; thy name is Gloucester: + Thou must be patient; we came crying hither: + Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, + We wawl and cry. I will preach to thee: mark. + +GLOUCESTER Alack, alack the day! + +KING LEAR When we are born, we cry that we are come + To this great stage of fools: this a good block; + It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe + A troop of horse with felt: I'll put 't in proof; + And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law, + Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill! + + [Enter a Gentleman, with Attendants] + +Gentleman O, here he is: lay hand upon him. Sir, + Your most dear daughter-- + +KING LEAR No rescue? What, a prisoner? I am even + The natural fool of fortune. Use me well; + You shall have ransom. Let me have surgeons; + I am cut to the brains. + +Gentleman You shall have any thing. + +KING LEAR No seconds? all myself? + Why, this would make a man a man of salt, + To use his eyes for garden water-pots, + Ay, and laying autumn's dust. + +Gentleman Good sir,-- + +KING LEAR I will die bravely, like a bridegroom. What! + I will be jovial: come, come; I am a king, + My masters, know you that. + +Gentleman You are a royal one, and we obey you. + +KING LEAR Then there's life in't. Nay, if you get it, you + shall get it with running. Sa, sa, sa, sa. + + [Exit running; Attendants follow] + +Gentleman A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch, + Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one daughter, + Who redeems nature from the general curse + Which twain have brought her to. + +EDGAR Hail, gentle sir. + +Gentleman Sir, speed you: what's your will? + +EDGAR Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle toward? + +Gentleman Most sure and vulgar: every one hears that, + Which can distinguish sound. + +EDGAR But, by your favour, + How near's the other army? + +Gentleman Near and on speedy foot; the main descry + Stands on the hourly thought. + +EDGAR I thank you, sir: that's all. + +Gentleman Though that the queen on special cause is here, + Her army is moved on. + +EDGAR I thank you, sir. + + [Exit Gentleman] + +GLOUCESTER You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me: + Let not my worser spirit tempt me again + To die before you please! + +EDGAR Well pray you, father. + +GLOUCESTER Now, good sir, what are you? + +EDGAR A most poor man, made tame to fortune's blows; + Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows, + Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, + I'll lead you to some biding. + +GLOUCESTER Hearty thanks: + The bounty and the benison of heaven + To boot, and boot! + + [Enter OSWALD] + +OSWALD A proclaim'd prize! Most happy! + That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh + To raise my fortunes. Thou old unhappy traitor, + Briefly thyself remember: the sword is out + That must destroy thee. + +GLOUCESTER Now let thy friendly hand + Put strength enough to't. + + [EDGAR interposes] + +OSWALD Wherefore, bold peasant, + Darest thou support a publish'd traitor? Hence; + Lest that the infection of his fortune take + Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. + +EDGAR Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurther 'casion. + +OSWALD Let go, slave, or thou diest! + +EDGAR Good gentleman, go your gait, and let poor volk + pass. An chud ha' bin zwaggered out of my life, + 'twould not ha' bin zo long as 'tis by a vortnight. + Nay, come not near th' old man; keep out, che vor + ye, or ise try whether your costard or my ballow be + the harder: ch'ill be plain with you. + +OSWALD Out, dunghill! + +EDGAR Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: come; no matter vor + your foins. + + [They fight, and EDGAR knocks him down] + +OSWALD Slave, thou hast slain me: villain, take my purse: + If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; + And give the letters which thou find'st about me + To Edmund earl of Gloucester; seek him out + Upon the British party: O, untimely death! + + [Dies] + +EDGAR I know thee well: a serviceable villain; + As duteous to the vices of thy mistress + As badness would desire. + +GLOUCESTER What, is he dead? + +EDGAR Sit you down, father; rest you + Let's see these pockets: the letters that he speaks of + May be my friends. He's dead; I am only sorry + He had no other death's-man. Let us see: + Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame us not: + To know our enemies' minds, we'ld rip their hearts; + Their papers, is more lawful. + + [Reads] + + 'Let our reciprocal vows be remembered. You have + many opportunities to cut him off: if your will + want not, time and place will be fruitfully offered. + There is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: + then am I the prisoner, and his bed my goal; from + the loathed warmth whereof deliver me, and supply + the place for your labour. + 'Your--wife, so I would say-- + 'Affectionate servant, + 'GONERIL.' + O undistinguish'd space of woman's will! + A plot upon her virtuous husband's life; + And the exchange my brother! Here, in the sands, + Thee I'll rake up, the post unsanctified + Of murderous lechers: and in the mature time + With this ungracious paper strike the sight + Of the death practised duke: for him 'tis well + That of thy death and business I can tell. + +GLOUCESTER The king is mad: how stiff is my vile sense, + That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling + Of my huge sorrows! Better I were distract: + So should my thoughts be sever'd from my griefs, + And woes by wrong imaginations lose + The knowledge of themselves. + +EDGAR Give me your hand: + + [Drum afar off] + + Far off, methinks, I hear the beaten drum: + Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE VII A tent in the French camp. LEAR on a bed asleep, + soft music playing; Gentleman, and others attending. + + + [Enter CORDELIA, KENT, and Doctor] + +CORDELIA O thou good Kent, how shall I live and work, + To match thy goodness? My life will be too short, + And every measure fail me. + +KENT To be acknowledged, madam, is o'erpaid. + All my reports go with the modest truth; + Nor more nor clipp'd, but so. + +CORDELIA Be better suited: + These weeds are memories of those worser hours: + I prithee, put them off. + +KENT Pardon me, dear madam; + Yet to be known shortens my made intent: + My boon I make it, that you know me not + Till time and I think meet. + +CORDELIA Then be't so, my good lord. + + [To the Doctor] + + How does the king? + +Doctor Madam, sleeps still. + +CORDELIA O you kind gods, + Cure this great breach in his abused nature! + The untuned and jarring senses, O, wind up + Of this child-changed father! + +Doctor So please your majesty + That we may wake the king: he hath slept long. + +CORDELIA Be govern'd by your knowledge, and proceed + I' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd? + +Gentleman Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his sleep + We put fresh garments on him. + +Doctor Be by, good madam, when we do awake him; + I doubt not of his temperance. + +CORDELIA Very well. + +Doctor Please you, draw near. Louder the music there! + +CORDELIA O my dear father! Restoration hang + Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss + Repair those violent harms that my two sisters + Have in thy reverence made! + +KENT Kind and dear princess! + +CORDELIA Had you not been their father, these white flakes + Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face + To be opposed against the warring winds? + To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? + In the most terrible and nimble stroke + Of quick, cross lightning? to watch--poor perdu!-- + With this thin helm? Mine enemy's dog, + Though he had bit me, should have stood that night + Against my fire; and wast thou fain, poor father, + To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn, + In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! + 'Tis wonder that thy life and wits at once + Had not concluded all. He wakes; speak to him. + +Doctor Madam, do you; 'tis fittest. + +CORDELIA How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? + +KING LEAR You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave: + Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound + Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears + Do scald like moulten lead. + +CORDELIA Sir, do you know me? + +KING LEAR You are a spirit, I know: when did you die? + +CORDELIA Still, still, far wide! + +Doctor He's scarce awake: let him alone awhile. + +KING LEAR Where have I been? Where am I? Fair daylight? + I am mightily abused. I should e'en die with pity, + To see another thus. I know not what to say. + I will not swear these are my hands: let's see; + I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured + Of my condition! + +CORDELIA O, look upon me, sir, + And hold your hands in benediction o'er me: + No, sir, you must not kneel. + +KING LEAR Pray, do not mock me: + I am a very foolish fond old man, + Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; + And, to deal plainly, + I fear I am not in my perfect mind. + Methinks I should know you, and know this man; + Yet I am doubtful for I am mainly ignorant + What place this is; and all the skill I have + Remembers not these garments; nor I know not + Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; + For, as I am a man, I think this lady + To be my child Cordelia. + +CORDELIA And so I am, I am. + +KING LEAR Be your tears wet? yes, 'faith. I pray, weep not: + If you have poison for me, I will drink it. + I know you do not love me; for your sisters + Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: + You have some cause, they have not. + +CORDELIA No cause, no cause. + +KING LEAR Am I in France? + +KENT In your own kingdom, sir. + +KING LEAR Do not abuse me. + +Doctor Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, + You see, is kill'd in him: and yet it is danger + To make him even o'er the time he has lost. + Desire him to go in; trouble him no more + Till further settling. + +CORDELIA Will't please your highness walk? + +KING LEAR You must bear with me: + Pray you now, forget and forgive: I am old and foolish. + + [Exeunt all but KENT and Gentleman] + +Gentleman Holds it true, sir, that the Duke of Cornwall was so slain? + +KENT Most certain, sir. + +Gentleman Who is conductor of his people? + +KENT As 'tis said, the bastard son of Gloucester. + +Gentleman They say Edgar, his banished son, is with the Earl + of Kent in Germany. + +KENT Report is changeable. 'Tis time to look about; the + powers of the kingdom approach apace. + +Gentleman The arbitrement is like to be bloody. Fare you + well, sir. + + [Exit] + +KENT My point and period will be throughly wrought, + Or well or ill, as this day's battle's fought. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The British camp, near Dover. + + + [Enter, with drum and colours, EDMUND, REGAN, + Gentlemen, and Soldiers. + +EDMUND Know of the duke if his last purpose hold, + Or whether since he is advised by aught + To change the course: he's full of alteration + And self-reproving: bring his constant pleasure. + + [To a Gentleman, who goes out] + +REGAN Our sister's man is certainly miscarried. + +EDMUND 'Tis to be doubted, madam. + +REGAN Now, sweet lord, + You know the goodness I intend upon you: + Tell me--but truly--but then speak the truth, + Do you not love my sister? + +EDMUND In honour'd love. + +REGAN But have you never found my brother's way + To the forfended place? + +EDMUND That thought abuses you. + +REGAN I am doubtful that you have been conjunct + And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. + +EDMUND No, by mine honour, madam. + +REGAN I never shall endure her: dear my lord, + Be not familiar with her. + +EDMUND Fear me not: + She and the duke her husband! + + [Enter, with drum and colours, ALBANY, GONERIL, and Soldiers] + +GONERIL [Aside] I had rather lose the battle than that sister + Should loosen him and me. + +ALBANY Our very loving sister, well be-met. + Sir, this I hear; the king is come to his daughter, + With others whom the rigor of our state + Forced to cry out. Where I could not be honest, + I never yet was valiant: for this business, + It toucheth us, as France invades our land, + Not bolds the king, with others, whom, I fear, + Most just and heavy causes make oppose. + +EDMUND Sir, you speak nobly. + +REGAN Why is this reason'd? + +GONERIL Combine together 'gainst the enemy; + For these domestic and particular broils + Are not the question here. + +ALBANY Let's then determine + With the ancient of war on our proceedings. + +EDMUND I shall attend you presently at your tent. + +REGAN Sister, you'll go with us? + +GONERIL No. + +REGAN 'Tis most convenient; pray you, go with us. + +GONERIL [Aside] O, ho, I know the riddle.--I will go. + + [As they are going out, enter EDGAR disguised] + +EDGAR If e'er your grace had speech with man so poor, + Hear me one word. + +ALBANY I'll overtake you. Speak. + + [Exeunt all but ALBANY and EDGAR] + +EDGAR Before you fight the battle, ope this letter. + If you have victory, let the trumpet sound + For him that brought it: wretched though I seem, + I can produce a champion that will prove + What is avouched there. If you miscarry, + Your business of the world hath so an end, + And machination ceases. Fortune love you. + +ALBANY Stay till I have read the letter. + +EDGAR I was forbid it. + When time shall serve, let but the herald cry, + And I'll appear again. + +ALBANY Why, fare thee well: I will o'erlook thy paper. + + [Exit EDGAR] + + [Re-enter EDMUND] + +EDMUND The enemy's in view; draw up your powers. + Here is the guess of their true strength and forces + By diligent discovery; but your haste + Is now urged on you. + +ALBANY We will greet the time. + + [Exit] + +EDMUND To both these sisters have I sworn my love; + Each jealous of the other, as the stung + Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? + Both? one? or neither? Neither can be enjoy'd, + If both remain alive: to take the widow + Exasperates, makes mad her sister Goneril; + And hardly shall I carry out my side, + Her husband being alive. Now then we'll use + His countenance for the battle; which being done, + Let her who would be rid of him devise + His speedy taking off. As for the mercy + Which he intends to Lear and to Cordelia, + The battle done, and they within our power, + Shall never see his pardon; for my state + Stands on me to defend, not to debate. + + [Exit] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II A field between the two camps. + + + [Alarum within. Enter, with drum and colours, + KING LEAR, CORDELIA, and Soldiers, over the stage; + and exeunt] + + [Enter EDGAR and GLOUCESTER] + +EDGAR Here, father, take the shadow of this tree + For your good host; pray that the right may thrive: + If ever I return to you again, + I'll bring you comfort. + +GLOUCESTER Grace go with you, sir! + + [Exit EDGAR] + + [Alarum and retreat within. Re-enter EDGAR] + +EDGAR Away, old man; give me thy hand; away! + King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en: + Give me thy hand; come on. + +GLOUCESTER No farther, sir; a man may rot even here. + +EDGAR What, in ill thoughts again? Men must endure + Their going hence, even as their coming hither; + Ripeness is all: come on. + +GLOUCESTER And that's true too. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + KING LEAR + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The British camp near Dover. + + + [Enter, in conquest, with drum and colours, EDMUND, + KING LEAR and CORDELIA, prisoners; Captain, + Soldiers, &c] + +EDMUND Some officers take them away: good guard, + Until their greater pleasures first be known + That are to censure them. + +CORDELIA We are not the first + Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. + For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; + Myself could else out-frown false fortune's frown. + Shall we not see these daughters and these sisters? + +KING LEAR No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: + We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: + When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, + And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, + And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh + At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues + Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, + Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; + And take upon's the mystery of things, + As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out, + In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, + That ebb and flow by the moon. + +EDMUND Take them away. + +KING LEAR Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, + The gods themselves throw incense. Have I caught thee? + He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, + And fire us hence like foxes. Wipe thine eyes; + The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell, + Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see 'em starve + first. Come. + + [Exeunt KING LEAR and CORDELIA, guarded] + +EDMUND Come hither, captain; hark. + Take thou this note; + + [Giving a paper] + + go follow them to prison: + One step I have advanced thee; if thou dost + As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way + To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men + Are as the time is: to be tender-minded + Does not become a sword: thy great employment + Will not bear question; either say thou'lt do 't, + Or thrive by other means. + +Captain I'll do 't, my lord. + +EDMUND About it; and write happy when thou hast done. + Mark, I say, instantly; and carry it so + As I have set it down. + +Captain I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats; + If it be man's work, I'll do 't. + + [Exit] + + [Flourish. Enter ALBANY, GONERIL, REGAN, another + Captain, and Soldiers] + +ALBANY Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant strain, + And fortune led you well: you have the captives + That were the opposites of this day's strife: + We do require them of you, so to use them + As we shall find their merits and our safety + May equally determine. + +EDMUND Sir, I thought it fit + To send the old and miserable king + To some retention and appointed guard; + Whose age has charms in it, whose title more, + To pluck the common bosom on his side, + An turn our impress'd lances in our eyes + Which do command them. With him I sent the queen; + My reason all the same; and they are ready + To-morrow, or at further space, to appear + Where you shall hold your session. At this time + We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend; + And the best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed + By those that feel their sharpness: + The question of Cordelia and her father + Requires a fitter place. + +ALBANY Sir, by your patience, + I hold you but a subject of this war, + Not as a brother. + +REGAN That's as we list to grace him. + Methinks our pleasure might have been demanded, + Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers; + Bore the commission of my place and person; + The which immediacy may well stand up, + And call itself your brother. + +GONERIL Not so hot: + In his own grace he doth exalt himself, + More than in your addition. + +REGAN In my rights, + By me invested, he compeers the best. + +GONERIL That were the most, if he should husband you. + +REGAN Jesters do oft prove prophets. + +GONERIL Holla, holla! + That eye that told you so look'd but a-squint. + +REGAN Lady, I am not well; else I should answer + From a full-flowing stomach. General, + Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony; + Dispose of them, of me; the walls are thine: + Witness the world, that I create thee here + My lord and master. + +GONERIL Mean you to enjoy him? + +ALBANY The let-alone lies not in your good will. + +EDMUND Nor in thine, lord. + +ALBANY Half-blooded fellow, yes. + +REGAN [To EDMUND] Let the drum strike, and prove my title thine. + +ALBANY Stay yet; hear reason. Edmund, I arrest thee + On capital treason; and, in thine attaint, + This gilded serpent + + [Pointing to Goneril] + + For your claim, fair sister, + I bar it in the interest of my wife: + 'Tis she is sub-contracted to this lord, + And I, her husband, contradict your bans. + If you will marry, make your loves to me, + My lady is bespoke. + +GONERIL An interlude! + +ALBANY Thou art arm'd, Gloucester: let the trumpet sound: + If none appear to prove upon thy head + Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons, + There is my pledge; + + [Throwing down a glove] + + I'll prove it on thy heart, + Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less + Than I have here proclaim'd thee. + +REGAN Sick, O, sick! + +GONERIL [Aside] If not, I'll ne'er trust medicine. + +EDMUND There's my exchange: + + [Throwing down a glove] + + what in the world he is + That names me traitor, villain-like he lies: + Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach, + On him, on you, who not? I will maintain + My truth and honour firmly. + +ALBANY A herald, ho! + +EDMUND A herald, ho, a herald! + +ALBANY Trust to thy single virtue; for thy soldiers, + All levied in my name, have in my name + Took their discharge. + +REGAN My sickness grows upon me. + +ALBANY She is not well; convey her to my tent. + + [Exit Regan, led] + + [Enter a Herald] + + Come hither, herald,--Let the trumpet sound, + And read out this. + +Captain Sound, trumpet! + + [A trumpet sounds] + +Herald [Reads] 'If any man of quality or degree within + the lists of the army will maintain upon Edmund, + supposed Earl of Gloucester, that he is a manifold + traitor, let him appear by the third sound of the + trumpet: he is bold in his defence.' + +EDMUND Sound! + + [First trumpet] + +Herald Again! + + [Second trumpet] + +Herald Again! + + [Third trumpet] + + [Trumpet answers within] + + [Enter EDGAR, at the third sound, armed, with a + trumpet before him] + +ALBANY Ask him his purposes, why he appears + Upon this call o' the trumpet. + +Herald What are you? + Your name, your quality? and why you answer + This present summons? + +EDGAR Know, my name is lost; + By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit: + Yet am I noble as the adversary + I come to cope. + +ALBANY Which is that adversary? + +EDGAR What's he that speaks for Edmund Earl of Gloucester? + +EDMUND Himself: what say'st thou to him? + +EDGAR Draw thy sword, + That, if my speech offend a noble heart, + Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine. + Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours, + My oath, and my profession: I protest, + Maugre thy strength, youth, place, and eminence, + Despite thy victor sword and fire-new fortune, + Thy valour and thy heart, thou art a traitor; + False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father; + Conspirant 'gainst this high-illustrious prince; + And, from the extremest upward of thy head + To the descent and dust below thy foot, + A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou 'No,' + This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are bent + To prove upon thy heart, whereto I speak, + Thou liest. + +EDMUND In wisdom I should ask thy name; + But, since thy outside looks so fair and warlike, + And that thy tongue some say of breeding breathes, + What safe and nicely I might well delay + By rule of knighthood, I disdain and spurn: + Back do I toss these treasons to thy head; + With the hell-hated lie o'erwhelm thy heart; + Which, for they yet glance by and scarcely bruise, + This sword of mine shall give them instant way, + Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, speak! + + [Alarums. They fight. EDMUND falls] + +ALBANY Save him, save him! + +GONERIL This is practise, Gloucester: + By the law of arms thou wast not bound to answer + An unknown opposite; thou art not vanquish'd, + But cozen'd and beguiled. + +ALBANY Shut your mouth, dame, + Or with this paper shall I stop it: Hold, sir: + Thou worse than any name, read thine own evil: + No tearing, lady: I perceive you know it. + + [Gives the letter to EDMUND] + +GONERIL Say, if I do, the laws are mine, not thine: + Who can arraign me for't. + +ALBANY Most monstrous! oh! + Know'st thou this paper? + +GONERIL Ask me not what I know. + + [Exit] + +ALBANY Go after her: she's desperate; govern her. + +EDMUND What you have charged me with, that have I done; + And more, much more; the time will bring it out: + 'Tis past, and so am I. But what art thou + That hast this fortune on me? If thou'rt noble, + I do forgive thee. + +EDGAR Let's exchange charity. + I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund; + If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me. + My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to plague us: + The dark and vicious place where thee he got + Cost him his eyes. + +EDMUND Thou hast spoken right, 'tis true; + The wheel is come full circle: I am here. + +ALBANY Methought thy very gait did prophesy + A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee: + Let sorrow split my heart, if ever I + Did hate thee or thy father! + +EDGAR Worthy prince, I know't. + +ALBANY Where have you hid yourself? + How have you known the miseries of your father? + +EDGAR By nursing them, my lord. List a brief tale; + And when 'tis told, O, that my heart would burst! + The bloody proclamation to escape, + That follow'd me so near,--O, our lives' sweetness! + That we the pain of death would hourly die + Rather than die at once!--taught me to shift + Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance + That very dogs disdain'd: and in this habit + Met I my father with his bleeding rings, + Their precious stones new lost: became his guide, + Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from despair; + Never,--O fault!--reveal'd myself unto him, + Until some half-hour past, when I was arm'd: + Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, + I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last + Told him my pilgrimage: but his flaw'd heart, + Alack, too weak the conflict to support! + 'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, + Burst smilingly. + +EDMUND This speech of yours hath moved me, + And shall perchance do good: but speak you on; + You look as you had something more to say. + +ALBANY If there be more, more woeful, hold it in; + For I am almost ready to dissolve, + Hearing of this. + +EDGAR This would have seem'd a period + To such as love not sorrow; but another, + To amplify too much, would make much more, + And top extremity. + Whilst I was big in clamour came there in a man, + Who, having seen me in my worst estate, + Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding + Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms + He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out + As he'ld burst heaven; threw him on my father; + Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him + That ever ear received: which in recounting + His grief grew puissant and the strings of life + Began to crack: twice then the trumpets sounded, + And there I left him tranced. + +ALBANY But who was this? + +EDGAR Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent; who in disguise + Follow'd his enemy king, and did him service + Improper for a slave. + + [Enter a Gentleman, with a bloody knife] + +Gentleman Help, help, O, help! + +EDGAR What kind of help? + +ALBANY Speak, man. + +EDGAR What means that bloody knife? + +Gentleman 'Tis hot, it smokes; + It came even from the heart of--O, she's dead! + +ALBANY Who dead? speak, man. + +Gentleman Your lady, sir, your lady: and her sister + By her is poisoned; she hath confess'd it. + +EDMUND I was contracted to them both: all three + Now marry in an instant. + +EDGAR Here comes Kent. + +ALBANY Produce their bodies, be they alive or dead: + This judgment of the heavens, that makes us tremble, + Touches us not with pity. + + [Exit Gentleman] + + [Enter KENT] + + O, is this he? + The time will not allow the compliment + Which very manners urges. + +KENT I am come + To bid my king and master aye good night: + Is he not here? + +ALBANY Great thing of us forgot! + Speak, Edmund, where's the king? and where's Cordelia? + See'st thou this object, Kent? + + [The bodies of GONERIL and REGAN are brought in] + +KENT Alack, why thus? + +EDMUND Yet Edmund was beloved: + The one the other poison'd for my sake, + And after slew herself. + +ALBANY Even so. Cover their faces. + +EDMUND I pant for life: some good I mean to do, + Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, + Be brief in it, to the castle; for my writ + Is on the life of Lear and on Cordelia: + Nay, send in time. + +ALBANY Run, run, O, run! + +EDGAR To who, my lord? Who hath the office? send + Thy token of reprieve. + +EDMUND Well thought on: take my sword, + Give it the captain. + +ALBANY Haste thee, for thy life. + + [Exit EDGAR] + +EDMUND He hath commission from thy wife and me + To hang Cordelia in the prison, and + To lay the blame upon her own despair, + That she fordid herself. + +ALBANY The gods defend her! Bear him hence awhile. + + [EDMUND is borne off] + + [Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; + EDGAR, Captain, and others following] + +KING LEAR Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones: + Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so + That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever! + I know when one is dead, and when one lives; + She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass; + If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, + Why, then she lives. + +KENT Is this the promised end + +EDGAR Or image of that horror? + +ALBANY Fall, and cease! + +KING LEAR This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, + It is a chance which does redeem all sorrows + That ever I have felt. + +KENT [Kneeling] O my good master! + +KING LEAR Prithee, away. + +EDGAR 'Tis noble Kent, your friend. + +KING LEAR A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! + I might have saved her; now she's gone for ever! + Cordelia, Cordelia! stay a little. Ha! + What is't thou say'st? Her voice was ever soft, + Gentle, and low, an excellent thing in woman. + I kill'd the slave that was a-hanging thee. + +Captain 'Tis true, my lords, he did. + +KING LEAR Did I not, fellow? + I have seen the day, with my good biting falchion + I would have made them skip: I am old now, + And these same crosses spoil me. Who are you? + Mine eyes are not o' the best: I'll tell you straight. + +KENT If fortune brag of two she loved and hated, + One of them we behold. + +KING LEAR This is a dull sight. Are you not Kent? + +KENT The same, + Your servant Kent: Where is your servant Caius? + +KING LEAR He's a good fellow, I can tell you that; + He'll strike, and quickly too: he's dead and rotten. + +KENT No, my good lord; I am the very man,-- + +KING LEAR I'll see that straight. + +KENT That, from your first of difference and decay, + Have follow'd your sad steps. + +KING LEAR You are welcome hither. + +KENT Nor no man else: all's cheerless, dark, and deadly. + Your eldest daughters have fordone them selves, + And desperately are dead. + +KING LEAR Ay, so I think. + +ALBANY He knows not what he says: and vain it is + That we present us to him. + +EDGAR Very bootless. + + [Enter a Captain] + +Captain Edmund is dead, my lord. + +ALBANY That's but a trifle here. + You lords and noble friends, know our intent. + What comfort to this great decay may come + Shall be applied: for us we will resign, + During the life of this old majesty, + To him our absolute power: + + [To EDGAR and KENT] + + you, to your rights: + With boot, and such addition as your honours + Have more than merited. All friends shall taste + The wages of their virtue, and all foes + The cup of their deservings. O, see, see! + +KING LEAR And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! + Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, + And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, + Never, never, never, never, never! + Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir. + Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips, + Look there, look there! + + [Dies] + +EDGAR He faints! My lord, my lord! + +KENT Break, heart; I prithee, break! + +EDGAR Look up, my lord. + +KENT Vex not his ghost: O, let him pass! he hates him much + That would upon the rack of this tough world + Stretch him out longer. + +EDGAR He is gone, indeed. + +KENT The wonder is, he hath endured so long: + He but usurp'd his life. + +ALBANY Bear them from hence. Our present business + Is general woe. + + [To KENT and EDGAR] + + Friends of my soul, you twain + Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain. + +KENT I have a journey, sir, shortly to go; + My master calls me, I must not say no. + +ALBANY The weight of this sad time we must obey; + Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. + The oldest hath borne most: we that are young + Shall never see so much, nor live so long. + + [Exeunt, with a dead march] + MACBETH + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DUNCAN king of Scotland. + + +MALCOLM | + | his sons. +DONALBAIN | + + +MACBETH | + | generals of the king's army. +BANQUO | + + +MACDUFF | + | +LENNOX | + | +ROSS | + | noblemen of Scotland. +MENTEITH | + | +ANGUS | + | +CAITHNESS | + + +FLEANCE son to Banquo. + +SIWARD Earl of Northumberland, general of the English forces. + +YOUNG SIWARD his son. + +SEYTON an officer attending on Macbeth. + + Boy, son to Macduff. (Son:) + + An English Doctor. (Doctor:) + + A Scotch Doctor. (Doctor:) + + A Soldier. + A Porter. + + An Old Man + +LADY MACBETH: + +LADY MACDUFF: + + Gentlewoman attending on Lady Macbeth. (Gentlewoman:) + +HECATE: + + Three Witches. + (First Witch:) + (Second Witch:) + (Third Witch:) + + Apparitions. + (First Apparition:) + (Second Apparition:) + (Third Apparition:) + + Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, + Attendants, and Messengers. (Lord:) + (Sergeant:) + (Servant:) + (First Murderer:) + (Second Murderer:) + (Third Murderer:) + (Messenger:) + +SCENE Scotland: England. + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I A desert place. + + + [Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches] + +First Witch When shall we three meet again + In thunder, lightning, or in rain? + +Second Witch When the hurlyburly's done, + When the battle's lost and won. + +Third Witch That will be ere the set of sun. + +First Witch Where the place? + +Second Witch Upon the heath. + +Third Witch There to meet with Macbeth. + +First Witch I come, Graymalkin! + +Second Witch Paddock calls. + +Third Witch Anon. + +ALL Fair is foul, and foul is fair: + Hover through the fog and filthy air. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A camp near Forres. + + + [Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, + LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant] + +DUNCAN What bloody man is that? He can report, + As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt + The newest state. + +MALCOLM This is the sergeant + Who like a good and hardy soldier fought + 'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend! + Say to the king the knowledge of the broil + As thou didst leave it. + +Sergeant Doubtful it stood; + As two spent swimmers, that do cling together + And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald-- + Worthy to be a rebel, for to that + The multiplying villanies of nature + Do swarm upon him--from the western isles + Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; + And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, + Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak: + For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name-- + Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel, + Which smoked with bloody execution, + Like valour's minion carved out his passage + Till he faced the slave; + Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, + Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, + And fix'd his head upon our battlements. + +DUNCAN O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! + +Sergeant As whence the sun 'gins his reflection + Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, + So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come + Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: + No sooner justice had with valour arm'd + Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, + But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage, + With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men + Began a fresh assault. + +DUNCAN Dismay'd not this + Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? + +Sergeant Yes; + As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. + If I say sooth, I must report they were + As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they + Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: + Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, + Or memorise another Golgotha, + I cannot tell. + But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. + +DUNCAN So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; + They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons. + + [Exit Sergeant, attended] + + Who comes here? + + [Enter ROSS] + +MALCOLM The worthy thane of Ross. + +LENNOX What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look + That seems to speak things strange. + +ROSS God save the king! + +DUNCAN Whence camest thou, worthy thane? + +ROSS From Fife, great king; + Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky + And fan our people cold. Norway himself, + With terrible numbers, + Assisted by that most disloyal traitor + The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; + Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, + Confronted him with self-comparisons, + Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm. + Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude, + The victory fell on us. + +DUNCAN Great happiness! + +ROSS That now + Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition: + Nor would we deign him burial of his men + Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch + Ten thousand dollars to our general use. + +DUNCAN No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive + Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death, + And with his former title greet Macbeth. + +ROSS I'll see it done. + +DUNCAN What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A heath near Forres. + + + [Thunder. Enter the three Witches] + +First Witch Where hast thou been, sister? + +Second Witch Killing swine. + +Third Witch Sister, where thou? + +First Witch A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, + And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:-- + 'Give me,' quoth I: + 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries. + Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger: + But in a sieve I'll thither sail, + And, like a rat without a tail, + I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. + +Second Witch I'll give thee a wind. + +First Witch Thou'rt kind. + +Third Witch And I another. + +First Witch I myself have all the other, + And the very ports they blow, + All the quarters that they know + I' the shipman's card. + I will drain him dry as hay: + Sleep shall neither night nor day + Hang upon his pent-house lid; + He shall live a man forbid: + Weary se'nnights nine times nine + Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: + Though his bark cannot be lost, + Yet it shall be tempest-tost. + Look what I have. + +Second Witch Show me, show me. + +First Witch Here I have a pilot's thumb, + Wreck'd as homeward he did come. + + [Drum within] + +Third Witch A drum, a drum! + Macbeth doth come. + +ALL The weird sisters, hand in hand, + Posters of the sea and land, + Thus do go about, about: + Thrice to thine and thrice to mine + And thrice again, to make up nine. + Peace! the charm's wound up. + + [Enter MACBETH and BANQUO] + +MACBETH So foul and fair a day I have not seen. + +BANQUO How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these + So wither'd and so wild in their attire, + That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, + And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught + That man may question? You seem to understand me, + By each at once her chappy finger laying + Upon her skinny lips: you should be women, + And yet your beards forbid me to interpret + That you are so. + +MACBETH Speak, if you can: what are you? + +First Witch All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis! + +Second Witch All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! + +Third Witch All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter! + +BANQUO Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear + Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, + Are ye fantastical, or that indeed + Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner + You greet with present grace and great prediction + Of noble having and of royal hope, + That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not. + If you can look into the seeds of time, + And say which grain will grow and which will not, + Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear + Your favours nor your hate. + +First Witch Hail! + +Second Witch Hail! + +Third Witch Hail! + +First Witch Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. + +Second Witch Not so happy, yet much happier. + +Third Witch Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: + So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! + +First Witch Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! + +MACBETH Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: + By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis; + But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, + A prosperous gentleman; and to be king + Stands not within the prospect of belief, + No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence + You owe this strange intelligence? or why + Upon this blasted heath you stop our way + With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. + + [Witches vanish] + +BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, + And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? + +MACBETH Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted + As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! + +BANQUO Were such things here as we do speak about? + Or have we eaten on the insane root + That takes the reason prisoner? + +MACBETH Your children shall be kings. + +BANQUO You shall be king. + +MACBETH And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? + +BANQUO To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here? + + [Enter ROSS and ANGUS] + +ROSS The king hath happily received, Macbeth, + The news of thy success; and when he reads + Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, + His wonders and his praises do contend + Which should be thine or his: silenced with that, + In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day, + He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, + Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, + Strange images of death. As thick as hail + Came post with post; and every one did bear + Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, + And pour'd them down before him. + +ANGUS We are sent + To give thee from our royal master thanks; + Only to herald thee into his sight, + Not pay thee. + +ROSS And, for an earnest of a greater honour, + He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: + In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! + For it is thine. + +BANQUO What, can the devil speak true? + +MACBETH The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me + In borrow'd robes? + +ANGUS Who was the thane lives yet; + But under heavy judgment bears that life + Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined + With those of Norway, or did line the rebel + With hidden help and vantage, or that with both + He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not; + But treasons capital, confess'd and proved, + Have overthrown him. + +MACBETH [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! + The greatest is behind. + + [To ROSS and ANGUS] + + Thanks for your pains. + + [To BANQUO] + + Do you not hope your children shall be kings, + When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me + Promised no less to them? + +BANQUO That trusted home + Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, + Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: + And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, + The instruments of darkness tell us truths, + Win us with honest trifles, to betray's + In deepest consequence. + Cousins, a word, I pray you. + +MACBETH [Aside] Two truths are told, + As happy prologues to the swelling act + Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen. + + [Aside] This supernatural soliciting + Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, + Why hath it given me earnest of success, + Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: + If good, why do I yield to that suggestion + Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair + And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, + Against the use of nature? Present fears + Are less than horrible imaginings: + My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, + Shakes so my single state of man that function + Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is + But what is not. + +BANQUO Look, how our partner's rapt. + +MACBETH [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, + Without my stir. + +BANQUO New horrors come upon him, + Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould + But with the aid of use. + +MACBETH [Aside] Come what come may, + Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. + +BANQUO Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. + +MACBETH Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought + With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains + Are register'd where every day I turn + The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. + Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time, + The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak + Our free hearts each to other. + +BANQUO Very gladly. + +MACBETH Till then, enough. Come, friends. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV Forres. The palace. + + + [Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, + and Attendants] + +DUNCAN Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not + Those in commission yet return'd? + +MALCOLM My liege, + They are not yet come back. But I have spoke + With one that saw him die: who did report + That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, + Implored your highness' pardon and set forth + A deep repentance: nothing in his life + Became him like the leaving it; he died + As one that had been studied in his death + To throw away the dearest thing he owed, + As 'twere a careless trifle. + +DUNCAN There's no art + To find the mind's construction in the face: + He was a gentleman on whom I built + An absolute trust. + + [Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS] + + O worthiest cousin! + The sin of my ingratitude even now + Was heavy on me: thou art so far before + That swiftest wing of recompense is slow + To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, + That the proportion both of thanks and payment + Might have been mine! only I have left to say, + More is thy due than more than all can pay. + +MACBETH The service and the loyalty I owe, + In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part + Is to receive our duties; and our duties + Are to your throne and state children and servants, + Which do but what they should, by doing every thing + Safe toward your love and honour. + +DUNCAN Welcome hither: + I have begun to plant thee, and will labour + To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, + That hast no less deserved, nor must be known + No less to have done so, let me enfold thee + And hold thee to my heart. + +BANQUO There if I grow, + The harvest is your own. + +DUNCAN My plenteous joys, + Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves + In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, + And you whose places are the nearest, know + We will establish our estate upon + Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter + The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must + Not unaccompanied invest him only, + But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine + On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, + And bind us further to you. + +MACBETH The rest is labour, which is not used for you: + I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful + The hearing of my wife with your approach; + So humbly take my leave. + +DUNCAN My worthy Cawdor! + +MACBETH [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step + On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, + For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; + Let not light see my black and deep desires: + The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, + Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. + + [Exit] + +DUNCAN True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant, + And in his commendations I am fed; + It is a banquet to me. Let's after him, + Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: + It is a peerless kinsman. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V Inverness. Macbeth's castle. + + + [Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter] + +LADY MACBETH 'They met me in the day of success: and I have + learned by the perfectest report, they have more in + them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire + to question them further, they made themselves air, + into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in + the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who + all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title, + before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred + me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that + shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver + thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou + mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being + ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it + to thy heart, and farewell.' + Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be + What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature; + It is too full o' the milk of human kindness + To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; + Art not without ambition, but without + The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, + That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, + And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis, + That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it; + And that which rather thou dost fear to do + Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither, + That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; + And chastise with the valour of my tongue + All that impedes thee from the golden round, + Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem + To have thee crown'd withal. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + What is your tidings? + +Messenger The king comes here to-night. + +LADY MACBETH Thou'rt mad to say it: + Is not thy master with him? who, were't so, + Would have inform'd for preparation. + +Messenger So please you, it is true: our thane is coming: + One of my fellows had the speed of him, + Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more + Than would make up his message. + +LADY MACBETH Give him tending; + He brings great news. + + [Exit Messenger] + + The raven himself is hoarse + That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan + Under my battlements. Come, you spirits + That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, + And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full + Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; + Stop up the access and passage to remorse, + That no compunctious visitings of nature + Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between + The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, + And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, + Wherever in your sightless substances + You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, + And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, + That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, + Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, + To cry 'Hold, hold!' + + [Enter MACBETH] + + Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! + Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! + Thy letters have transported me beyond + This ignorant present, and I feel now + The future in the instant. + +MACBETH My dearest love, + Duncan comes here to-night. + +LADY MACBETH And when goes hence? + +MACBETH To-morrow, as he purposes. + +LADY MACBETH O, never + Shall sun that morrow see! + Your face, my thane, is as a book where men + May read strange matters. To beguile the time, + Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, + Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, + But be the serpent under't. He that's coming + Must be provided for: and you shall put + This night's great business into my dispatch; + Which shall to all our nights and days to come + Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. + +MACBETH We will speak further. + +LADY MACBETH Only look up clear; + To alter favour ever is to fear: + Leave all the rest to me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VI Before Macbeth's castle. + + + [Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, + DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS, + and Attendants] + +DUNCAN This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air + Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself + Unto our gentle senses. + +BANQUO This guest of summer, + The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, + By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath + Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, + Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird + Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle: + Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, + The air is delicate. + + [Enter LADY MACBETH] + +DUNCAN See, see, our honour'd hostess! + The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, + Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you + How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains, + And thank us for your trouble. + +LADY MACBETH All our service + In every point twice done and then done double + Were poor and single business to contend + Against those honours deep and broad wherewith + Your majesty loads our house: for those of old, + And the late dignities heap'd up to them, + We rest your hermits. + +DUNCAN Where's the thane of Cawdor? + We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose + To be his purveyor: but he rides well; + And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him + To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, + We are your guest to-night. + +LADY MACBETH Your servants ever + Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt, + To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, + Still to return your own. + +DUNCAN Give me your hand; + Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, + And shall continue our graces towards him. + By your leave, hostess. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE VII Macbeth's castle. + + + [Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers + Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the + stage. Then enter MACBETH] + +MACBETH If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well + It were done quickly: if the assassination + Could trammel up the consequence, and catch + With his surcease success; that but this blow + Might be the be-all and the end-all here, + But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, + We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases + We still have judgment here; that we but teach + Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return + To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice + Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice + To our own lips. He's here in double trust; + First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, + Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, + Who should against his murderer shut the door, + Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan + Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been + So clear in his great office, that his virtues + Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against + The deep damnation of his taking-off; + And pity, like a naked new-born babe, + Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed + Upon the sightless couriers of the air, + Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, + That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur + To prick the sides of my intent, but only + Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself + And falls on the other. + + [Enter LADY MACBETH] + + How now! what news? + +LADY MACBETH He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber? + +MACBETH Hath he ask'd for me? + +LADY MACBETH Know you not he has? + +MACBETH We will proceed no further in this business: + He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought + Golden opinions from all sorts of people, + Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, + Not cast aside so soon. + +LADY MACBETH Was the hope drunk + Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since? + And wakes it now, to look so green and pale + At what it did so freely? From this time + Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard + To be the same in thine own act and valour + As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that + Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, + And live a coward in thine own esteem, + Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' + Like the poor cat i' the adage? + +MACBETH Prithee, peace: + I dare do all that may become a man; + Who dares do more is none. +LADY MACBETH What beast was't, then, + That made you break this enterprise to me? + When you durst do it, then you were a man; + And, to be more than what you were, you would + Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place + Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: + They have made themselves, and that their fitness now + Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know + How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: + I would, while it was smiling in my face, + Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, + And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you + Have done to this. + +MACBETH If we should fail? + +LADY MACBETH We fail! + But screw your courage to the sticking-place, + And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep-- + Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey + Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains + Will I with wine and wassail so convince + That memory, the warder of the brain, + Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason + A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep + Their drenched natures lie as in a death, + What cannot you and I perform upon + The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon + His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt + Of our great quell? + +MACBETH Bring forth men-children only; + For thy undaunted mettle should compose + Nothing but males. Will it not be received, + When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two + Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, + That they have done't? + +LADY MACBETH Who dares receive it other, + As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar + Upon his death? + +MACBETH I am settled, and bend up + Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. + Away, and mock the time with fairest show: + False face must hide what the false heart doth know. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Court of Macbeth's castle. + + + [Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him] + +BANQUO How goes the night, boy? + +FLEANCE The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. + +BANQUO And she goes down at twelve. + +FLEANCE I take't, 'tis later, sir. + +BANQUO Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven; + Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. + A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, + And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers, + Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature + Gives way to in repose! + + [Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch] + + Give me my sword. + Who's there? + +MACBETH A friend. + +BANQUO What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed: + He hath been in unusual pleasure, and + Sent forth great largess to your offices. + This diamond he greets your wife withal, + By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up + In measureless content. + +MACBETH Being unprepared, + Our will became the servant to defect; + Which else should free have wrought. + +BANQUO All's well. + I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: + To you they have show'd some truth. + +MACBETH I think not of them: + Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, + We would spend it in some words upon that business, + If you would grant the time. + +BANQUO At your kind'st leisure. + +MACBETH If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, + It shall make honour for you. + +BANQUO So I lose none + In seeking to augment it, but still keep + My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, + I shall be counsell'd. + +MACBETH Good repose the while! + +BANQUO Thanks, sir: the like to you! + + [Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE] + +MACBETH Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, + She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. + + [Exit Servant] + + Is this a dagger which I see before me, + The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. + I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. + Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible + To feeling as to sight? or art thou but + A dagger of the mind, a false creation, + Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? + I see thee yet, in form as palpable + As this which now I draw. + Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; + And such an instrument I was to use. + Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, + Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, + And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, + Which was not so before. There's no such thing: + It is the bloody business which informs + Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld + Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse + The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates + Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, + Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, + Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. + With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design + Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, + Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear + Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, + And take the present horror from the time, + Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives: + Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. + + [A bell rings] + + I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. + Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell + That summons thee to heaven or to hell. + + [Exit] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The same. + + + [Enter LADY MACBETH] + +LADY MACBETH That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; + What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. + Hark! Peace! + It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, + Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it: + The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms + Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd + their possets, + That death and nature do contend about them, + Whether they live or die. + +MACBETH [Within] Who's there? what, ho! + +LADY MACBETH Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, + And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed + Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; + He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled + My father as he slept, I had done't. + + [Enter MACBETH] + + My husband! + +MACBETH I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? + +LADY MACBETH I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. + Did not you speak? + +MACBETH When? + +LADY MACBETH Now. + +MACBETH As I descended? + +LADY MACBETH Ay. + +MACBETH Hark! + Who lies i' the second chamber? + +LADY MACBETH Donalbain. + +MACBETH This is a sorry sight. + + [Looking on his hands] + +LADY MACBETH A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. + +MACBETH There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried + 'Murder!' + That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them: + But they did say their prayers, and address'd them + Again to sleep. + +LADY MACBETH There are two lodged together. + +MACBETH One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other; + As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. + Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,' + When they did say 'God bless us!' + +LADY MACBETH Consider it not so deeply. + +MACBETH But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? + I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' + Stuck in my throat. + +LADY MACBETH These deeds must not be thought + After these ways; so, it will make us mad. + +MACBETH Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! + Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, + Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast,-- + +LADY MACBETH What do you mean? + +MACBETH Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house: + 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor + Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.' + +LADY MACBETH Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, + You do unbend your noble strength, to think + So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, + And wash this filthy witness from your hand. + Why did you bring these daggers from the place? + They must lie there: go carry them; and smear + The sleepy grooms with blood. + +MACBETH I'll go no more: + I am afraid to think what I have done; + Look on't again I dare not. + +LADY MACBETH Infirm of purpose! + Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead + Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood + That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, + I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal; + For it must seem their guilt. + + [Exit. Knocking within] + +MACBETH Whence is that knocking? + How is't with me, when every noise appals me? + What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. + Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood + Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather + The multitudinous seas in incarnadine, + Making the green one red. + + [Re-enter LADY MACBETH] + +LADY MACBETH My hands are of your colour; but I shame + To wear a heart so white. + + [Knocking within] + + I hear a knocking + At the south entry: retire we to our chamber; + A little water clears us of this deed: + How easy is it, then! Your constancy + Hath left you unattended. + + [Knocking within] + + Hark! more knocking. + Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, + And show us to be watchers. Be not lost + So poorly in your thoughts. + +MACBETH To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself. + + [Knocking within] + + Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! + + [Exeunt] + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III The same. + + + [Knocking within. Enter a Porter] + +Porter Here's a knocking indeed! If a + man were porter of hell-gate, he should have + old turning the key. + + [Knocking within] + Knock, + knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of + Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged + himself on the expectation of plenty: come in + time; have napkins enow about you; here + you'll sweat for't. + + [Knocking within] + Knock, + knock! Who's there, in the other devil's + name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could + swear in both the scales against either scale; + who committed treason enough for God's sake, + yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come + in, equivocator. + + [Knocking within] + Knock, + knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an + English tailor come hither, for stealing out of + a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may + roast your goose. + + [Knocking within] + Knock, + knock; never at quiet! What are you? But + this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter + it no further: I had thought to have let in + some of all professions that go the primrose + way to the everlasting bonfire. + + [Knocking within] + + Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter. + + [Opens the gate] + + [Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX] + +MACDUFF Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, + That you do lie so late? + +Porter 'Faith sir, we were carousing till the + second cock: and drink, sir, is a great + provoker of three things. + +MACDUFF What three things does drink especially provoke? + +Porter Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and + urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; + it provokes the desire, but it takes + away the performance: therefore, much drink + may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: + it makes him, and it mars him; it sets + him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, + and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and + not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him + in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. + +MACDUFF I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. + +Porter That it did, sir, i' the very throat on + me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I + think, being too strong for him, though he took + up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast + him. + +MACDUFF Is thy master stirring? + + [Enter MACBETH] + + Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. + +LENNOX Good morrow, noble sir. + +MACBETH Good morrow, both. + +MACDUFF Is the king stirring, worthy thane? + +MACBETH Not yet. + +MACDUFF He did command me to call timely on him: + I have almost slipp'd the hour. + +MACBETH I'll bring you to him. + +MACDUFF I know this is a joyful trouble to you; + But yet 'tis one. + +MACBETH The labour we delight in physics pain. + This is the door. + +MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, + For 'tis my limited service. + + [Exit] + +LENNOX Goes the king hence to-day? + +MACBETH He does: he did appoint so. + +LENNOX The night has been unruly: where we lay, + Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say, + Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death, + And prophesying with accents terrible + Of dire combustion and confused events + New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird + Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth + Was feverous and did shake. + +MACBETH 'Twas a rough night. + +LENNOX My young remembrance cannot parallel + A fellow to it. + + [Re-enter MACDUFF] + +MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart + Cannot conceive nor name thee! + + +MACBETH | + | What's the matter. +LENNOX | + + +MACDUFF Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! + Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope + The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence + The life o' the building! + +MACBETH What is 't you say? the life? + +LENNOX Mean you his majesty? + +MACDUFF Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight + With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; + See, and then speak yourselves. + + [Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX] + + Awake, awake! + Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason! + Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! + Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, + And look on death itself! up, up, and see + The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! + As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, + To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. + + [Bell rings] + + [Enter LADY MACBETH] + +LADY MACBETH What's the business, + That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley + The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! + +MACDUFF O gentle lady, + 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: + The repetition, in a woman's ear, + Would murder as it fell. + + [Enter BANQUO] + + O Banquo, Banquo, + Our royal master 's murder'd! + +LADY MACBETH Woe, alas! + What, in our house? + +BANQUO Too cruel any where. + Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, + And say it is not so. + + [Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS] + +MACBETH Had I but died an hour before this chance, + I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant, + There 's nothing serious in mortality: + All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; + The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees + Is left this vault to brag of. + + [Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN] + +DONALBAIN What is amiss? + +MACBETH You are, and do not know't: + The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood + Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd. + +MACDUFF Your royal father 's murder'd. + +MALCOLM O, by whom? + +LENNOX Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't: + Their hands and faces were an badged with blood; + So were their daggers, which unwiped we found + Upon their pillows: + They stared, and were distracted; no man's life + Was to be trusted with them. + +MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury, + That I did kill them. + +MACDUFF Wherefore did you so? + +MACBETH Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, + Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: + The expedition my violent love + Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, + His silver skin laced with his golden blood; + And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature + For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, + Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers + Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain, + That had a heart to love, and in that heart + Courage to make 's love known? + +LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho! + +MACDUFF Look to the lady. + +MALCOLM [Aside to DONALBAIN] Why do we hold our tongues, + That most may claim this argument for ours? + +DONALBAIN [Aside to MALCOLM] What should be spoken here, + where our fate, + Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us? + Let 's away; + Our tears are not yet brew'd. + +MALCOLM [Aside to DONALBAIN] Nor our strong sorrow + Upon the foot of motion. + +BANQUO Look to the lady: + + [LADY MACBETH is carried out] + + And when we have our naked frailties hid, + That suffer in exposure, let us meet, + And question this most bloody piece of work, + To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: + In the great hand of God I stand; and thence + Against the undivulged pretence I fight + Of treasonous malice. + +MACDUFF And so do I. + +ALL So all. + +MACBETH Let's briefly put on manly readiness, + And meet i' the hall together. + +ALL Well contented. + + [Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain. + +MALCOLM What will you do? Let's not consort with them: + To show an unfelt sorrow is an office + Which the false man does easy. I'll to England. + +DONALBAIN To Ireland, I; our separated fortune + Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, + There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, + The nearer bloody. + +MALCOLM This murderous shaft that's shot + Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way + Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; + And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, + But shift away: there's warrant in that theft + Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Outside Macbeth's castle. + + + [Enter ROSS and an old Man] + +Old Man Threescore and ten I can remember well: + Within the volume of which time I have seen + Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night + Hath trifled former knowings. + +ROSS Ah, good father, + Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act, + Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day, + And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: + Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, + That darkness does the face of earth entomb, + When living light should kiss it? + +Old Man 'Tis unnatural, + Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last, + A falcon, towering in her pride of place, + Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. + +ROSS And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain-- + Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, + Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, + Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make + War with mankind. + +Old Man 'Tis said they eat each other. + +ROSS They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes + That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff. + + [Enter MACDUFF] + + How goes the world, sir, now? + +MACDUFF Why, see you not? + +ROSS Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? + +MACDUFF Those that Macbeth hath slain. + +ROSS Alas, the day! + What good could they pretend? + +MACDUFF They were suborn'd: + Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons, + Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them + Suspicion of the deed. + +ROSS 'Gainst nature still! + Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up + Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like + The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. + +MACDUFF He is already named, and gone to Scone + To be invested. + +ROSS Where is Duncan's body? + +MACDUFF Carried to Colmekill, + The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, + And guardian of their bones. + +ROSS Will you to Scone? + +MACDUFF No, cousin, I'll to Fife. + +ROSS Well, I will thither. + +MACDUFF Well, may you see things well done there: adieu! + Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! + +ROSS Farewell, father. + +Old Man God's benison go with you; and with those + That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Forres. The palace. + + + [Enter BANQUO] + +BANQUO Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all, + As the weird women promised, and, I fear, + Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said + It should not stand in thy posterity, + But that myself should be the root and father + Of many kings. If there come truth from them-- + As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine-- + Why, by the verities on thee made good, + May they not be my oracles as well, + And set me up in hope? But hush! no more. + + [Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY + MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and + Attendants] + +MACBETH Here's our chief guest. + +LADY MACBETH If he had been forgotten, + It had been as a gap in our great feast, + And all-thing unbecoming. + +MACBETH To-night we hold a solemn supper sir, + And I'll request your presence. + +BANQUO Let your highness + Command upon me; to the which my duties + Are with a most indissoluble tie + For ever knit. + +MACBETH Ride you this afternoon? + +BANQUO Ay, my good lord. + +MACBETH We should have else desired your good advice, + Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, + In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow. + Is't far you ride? + +BANQUO As far, my lord, as will fill up the time + 'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, + I must become a borrower of the night + For a dark hour or twain. + +MACBETH Fail not our feast. + +BANQUO My lord, I will not. + +MACBETH We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd + In England and in Ireland, not confessing + Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers + With strange invention: but of that to-morrow, + When therewithal we shall have cause of state + Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu, + Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? + +BANQUO Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's. + +MACBETH I wish your horses swift and sure of foot; + And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. + + [Exit BANQUO] + + Let every man be master of his time + Till seven at night: to make society + The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself + Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you! + + [Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant] + + Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men + Our pleasure? + +ATTENDANT They are, my lord, without the palace gate. + +MACBETH Bring them before us. + + [Exit Attendant] + + To be thus is nothing; + But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo + Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature + Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares; + And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, + He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour + To act in safety. There is none but he + Whose being I do fear: and, under him, + My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said, + Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters + When first they put the name of king upon me, + And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like + They hail'd him father to a line of kings: + Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, + And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, + Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, + No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so, + For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind; + For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd; + Put rancours in the vessel of my peace + Only for them; and mine eternal jewel + Given to the common enemy of man, + To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! + Rather than so, come fate into the list. + And champion me to the utterance! Who's there! + + [Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers] + + Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. + + [Exit Attendant] + + Was it not yesterday we spoke together? + +First Murderer It was, so please your highness. + +MACBETH Well then, now + Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know + That it was he in the times past which held you + So under fortune, which you thought had been + Our innocent self: this I made good to you + In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you, + How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, + the instruments, + Who wrought with them, and all things else that might + To half a soul and to a notion crazed + Say 'Thus did Banquo.' + +First Murderer You made it known to us. + +MACBETH I did so, and went further, which is now + Our point of second meeting. Do you find + Your patience so predominant in your nature + That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd + To pray for this good man and for his issue, + Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave + And beggar'd yours for ever? + +First Murderer We are men, my liege. + +MACBETH Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; + As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, + Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept + All by the name of dogs: the valued file + Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, + The housekeeper, the hunter, every one + According to the gift which bounteous nature + Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive + Particular addition. from the bill + That writes them all alike: and so of men. + Now, if you have a station in the file, + Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't; + And I will put that business in your bosoms, + Whose execution takes your enemy off, + Grapples you to the heart and love of us, + Who wear our health but sickly in his life, + Which in his death were perfect. + +Second Murderer I am one, my liege, + Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world + Have so incensed that I am reckless what + I do to spite the world. + +First Murderer And I another + So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, + That I would set my lie on any chance, + To mend it, or be rid on't. + +MACBETH Both of you + Know Banquo was your enemy. + +Both Murderers True, my lord. + +MACBETH So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, + That every minute of his being thrusts + Against my near'st of life: and though I could + With barefaced power sweep him from my sight + And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, + For certain friends that are both his and mine, + Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall + Who I myself struck down; and thence it is, + That I to your assistance do make love, + Masking the business from the common eye + For sundry weighty reasons. + +Second Murderer We shall, my lord, + Perform what you command us. + +First Murderer Though our lives-- + +MACBETH Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most + I will advise you where to plant yourselves; + Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, + The moment on't; for't must be done to-night, + And something from the palace; always thought + That I require a clearness: and with him-- + To leave no rubs nor botches in the work-- + Fleance his son, that keeps him company, + Whose absence is no less material to me + Than is his father's, must embrace the fate + Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: + I'll come to you anon. + +Both Murderers We are resolved, my lord. + +MACBETH I'll call upon you straight: abide within. + + [Exeunt Murderers] + + It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, + If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. + + [Exit] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II The palace. + + + [Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant] + +LADY MACBETH Is Banquo gone from court? + +Servant Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. + +LADY MACBETH Say to the king, I would attend his leisure + For a few words. + +Servant Madam, I will. + + [Exit] + +LADY MACBETH Nought's had, all's spent, + Where our desire is got without content: + 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy + Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. + + [Enter MACBETH] + + How now, my lord! why do you keep alone, + Of sorriest fancies your companions making, + Using those thoughts which should indeed have died + With them they think on? Things without all remedy + Should be without regard: what's done is done. + +MACBETH We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it: + She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice + Remains in danger of her former tooth. + But let the frame of things disjoint, both the + worlds suffer, + Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep + In the affliction of these terrible dreams + That shake us nightly: better be with the dead, + Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, + Than on the torture of the mind to lie + In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; + After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; + Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, + Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, + Can touch him further. + +LADY MACBETH Come on; + Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; + Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night. + +MACBETH So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you: + Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; + Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: + Unsafe the while, that we + Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, + And make our faces vizards to our hearts, + Disguising what they are. + +LADY MACBETH You must leave this. + +MACBETH O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! + Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. + +LADY MACBETH But in them nature's copy's not eterne. + +MACBETH There's comfort yet; they are assailable; + Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown + His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons + The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums + Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done + A deed of dreadful note. + +LADY MACBETH What's to be done? + +MACBETH Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, + Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, + Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; + And with thy bloody and invisible hand + Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond + Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow + Makes wing to the rooky wood: + Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; + While night's black agents to their preys do rouse. + Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still; + Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. + So, prithee, go with me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A park near the palace. + + + [Enter three Murderers] + +First Murderer But who did bid thee join with us? + +Third Murderer Macbeth. + +Second Murderer He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers + Our offices and what we have to do + To the direction just. + +First Murderer Then stand with us. + The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: + Now spurs the lated traveller apace + To gain the timely inn; and near approaches + The subject of our watch. + +Third Murderer Hark! I hear horses. + +BANQUO [Within] Give us a light there, ho! + +Second Murderer Then 'tis he: the rest + That are within the note of expectation + Already are i' the court. + +First Murderer His horses go about. + +Third Murderer Almost a mile: but he does usually, + So all men do, from hence to the palace gate + Make it their walk. + +Second Murderer A light, a light! + + [Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch] + +Third Murderer 'Tis he. + +First Murderer Stand to't. + +BANQUO It will be rain to-night. + +First Murderer Let it come down. + + [They set upon BANQUO] + +BANQUO O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! + Thou mayst revenge. O slave! + + [Dies. FLEANCE escapes] + +Third Murderer Who did strike out the light? + +First Murderer Wast not the way? + +Third Murderer There's but one down; the son is fled. + +Second Murderer We have lost + Best half of our affair. + +First Murderer Well, let's away, and say how much is done. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The same. Hall in the palace. + + + [A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, + ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants] + +MACBETH You know your own degrees; sit down: at first + And last the hearty welcome. +Lords Thanks to your majesty. + +MACBETH Ourself will mingle with society, + And play the humble host. + Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time + We will require her welcome. + +LADY MACBETH Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; + For my heart speaks they are welcome. + + [First Murderer appears at the door] + +MACBETH See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. + Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst: + Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure + The table round. + + [Approaching the door] + + There's blood on thy face. + +First Murderer 'Tis Banquo's then. + +MACBETH 'Tis better thee without than he within. + Is he dispatch'd? + +First Murderer My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. + +MACBETH Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good + That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, + Thou art the nonpareil. + +First Murderer Most royal sir, + Fleance is 'scaped. + +MACBETH Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect, + Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, + As broad and general as the casing air: + But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe? + +First Murderer Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides, + With twenty trenched gashes on his head; + The least a death to nature. + +MACBETH Thanks for that: + There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled + Hath nature that in time will venom breed, + No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow + We'll hear, ourselves, again. + + [Exit Murderer] + +LADY MACBETH My royal lord, + You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold + That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making, + 'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home; + From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; + Meeting were bare without it. + +MACBETH Sweet remembrancer! + Now, good digestion wait on appetite, + And health on both! + +LENNOX May't please your highness sit. + + [The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in + MACBETH's place] + +MACBETH Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, + Were the graced person of our Banquo present; + Who may I rather challenge for unkindness + Than pity for mischance! + +ROSS His absence, sir, + Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness + To grace us with your royal company. + +MACBETH The table's full. + +LENNOX Here is a place reserved, sir. + +MACBETH Where? + +LENNOX Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness? + +MACBETH Which of you have done this? + +Lords What, my good lord? + +MACBETH Thou canst not say I did it: never shake + Thy gory locks at me. + +ROSS Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well. + +LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus, + And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; + The fit is momentary; upon a thought + He will again be well: if much you note him, + You shall offend him and extend his passion: + Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? + +MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that + Which might appal the devil. + +LADY MACBETH O proper stuff! + This is the very painting of your fear: + This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, + Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, + Impostors to true fear, would well become + A woman's story at a winter's fire, + Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! + Why do you make such faces? When all's done, + You look but on a stool. + +MACBETH Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! + how say you? + Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. + If charnel-houses and our graves must send + Those that we bury back, our monuments + Shall be the maws of kites. + + [GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes] + +LADY MACBETH What, quite unmann'd in folly? + +MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him. + +LADY MACBETH Fie, for shame! + +MACBETH Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, + Ere human statute purged the gentle weal; + Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd + Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, + That, when the brains were out, the man would die, + And there an end; but now they rise again, + With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, + And push us from our stools: this is more strange + Than such a murder is. + +LADY MACBETH My worthy lord, + Your noble friends do lack you. + +MACBETH I do forget. + Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends, + I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing + To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; + Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full. + I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, + And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; + Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, + And all to all. + +Lords Our duties, and the pledge. + + [Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO] + +MACBETH Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! + Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; + Thou hast no speculation in those eyes + Which thou dost glare with! + +LADY MACBETH Think of this, good peers, + But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other; + Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. + +MACBETH What man dare, I dare: + Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, + The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; + Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves + Shall never tremble: or be alive again, + And dare me to the desert with thy sword; + If trembling I inhabit then, protest me + The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! + Unreal mockery, hence! + + [GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes] + + Why, so: being gone, + I am a man again. Pray you, sit still. + +LADY MACBETH You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, + With most admired disorder. + +MACBETH Can such things be, + And overcome us like a summer's cloud, + Without our special wonder? You make me strange + Even to the disposition that I owe, + When now I think you can behold such sights, + And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, + When mine is blanched with fear. + +ROSS What sights, my lord? + +LADY MACBETH I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; + Question enrages him. At once, good night: + Stand not upon the order of your going, + But go at once. + +LENNOX Good night; and better health + Attend his majesty! + +LADY MACBETH A kind good night to all! + + [Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH] + +MACBETH It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: + Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; + Augurs and understood relations have + By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth + The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? + +LADY MACBETH Almost at odds with morning, which is which. + +MACBETH How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person + At our great bidding? + +LADY MACBETH Did you send to him, sir? + +MACBETH I hear it by the way; but I will send: + There's not a one of them but in his house + I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow, + And betimes I will, to the weird sisters: + More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, + By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good, + All causes shall give way: I am in blood + Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, + Returning were as tedious as go o'er: + Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; + Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. + +LADY MACBETH You lack the season of all natures, sleep. + +MACBETH Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse + Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: + We are yet but young in deed. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V A Heath. + + + [Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE] + +First Witch Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly. + +HECATE Have I not reason, beldams as you are, + Saucy and overbold? How did you dare + To trade and traffic with Macbeth + In riddles and affairs of death; + And I, the mistress of your charms, + The close contriver of all harms, + Was never call'd to bear my part, + Or show the glory of our art? + And, which is worse, all you have done + Hath been but for a wayward son, + Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, + Loves for his own ends, not for you. + But make amends now: get you gone, + And at the pit of Acheron + Meet me i' the morning: thither he + Will come to know his destiny: + Your vessels and your spells provide, + Your charms and every thing beside. + I am for the air; this night I'll spend + Unto a dismal and a fatal end: + Great business must be wrought ere noon: + Upon the corner of the moon + There hangs a vaporous drop profound; + I'll catch it ere it come to ground: + And that distill'd by magic sleights + Shall raise such artificial sprites + As by the strength of their illusion + Shall draw him on to his confusion: + He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear + He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: + And you all know, security + Is mortals' chiefest enemy. + + [Music and a song within: 'Come away, come + away,' &c] + + Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, + Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. + + [Exit] + +First Witch Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI Forres. The palace. + + + [Enter LENNOX and another Lord] + +LENNOX My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, + Which can interpret further: only, I say, + Things have been strangely borne. The + gracious Duncan + Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: + And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; + Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, + For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late. + Who cannot want the thought how monstrous + It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain + To kill their gracious father? damned fact! + How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight + In pious rage the two delinquents tear, + That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? + Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; + For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive + To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, + He has borne all things well: and I do think + That had he Duncan's sons under his key-- + As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they + should find + What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. + But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd + His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear + Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell + Where he bestows himself? + +Lord The son of Duncan, + From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth + Lives in the English court, and is received + Of the most pious Edward with such grace + That the malevolence of fortune nothing + Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff + Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid + To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward: + That, by the help of these--with Him above + To ratify the work--we may again + Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, + Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, + Do faithful homage and receive free honours: + All which we pine for now: and this report + Hath so exasperate the king that he + Prepares for some attempt of war. + +LENNOX Sent he to Macduff? + +Lord He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,' + The cloudy messenger turns me his back, + And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time + That clogs me with this answer.' + +LENNOX And that well might + Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance + His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel + Fly to the court of England and unfold + His message ere he come, that a swift blessing + May soon return to this our suffering country + Under a hand accursed! + +Lord I'll send my prayers with him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. + + + [Thunder. Enter the three Witches] + + +First Witch Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. + +Second Witch Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. + +Third Witch Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time. + +First Witch Round about the cauldron go; + In the poison'd entrails throw. + Toad, that under cold stone + Days and nights has thirty-one + Swelter'd venom sleeping got, + Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. + +ALL Double, double toil and trouble; + Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. + +Second Witch Fillet of a fenny snake, + In the cauldron boil and bake; + Eye of newt and toe of frog, + Wool of bat and tongue of dog, + Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, + Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, + For a charm of powerful trouble, + Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. + +ALL Double, double toil and trouble; + Fire burn and cauldron bubble. + +Third Witch Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, + Witches' mummy, maw and gulf + Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, + Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, + Liver of blaspheming Jew, + Gall of goat, and slips of yew + Silver'd in the moon's eclipse, + Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, + Finger of birth-strangled babe + Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, + Make the gruel thick and slab: + Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, + For the ingredients of our cauldron. + +ALL Double, double toil and trouble; + Fire burn and cauldron bubble. + +Second Witch Cool it with a baboon's blood, + Then the charm is firm and good. + + [Enter HECATE to the other three Witches] + +HECATE O well done! I commend your pains; + And every one shall share i' the gains; + And now about the cauldron sing, + Live elves and fairies in a ring, + Enchanting all that you put in. + + [Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c] + + [HECATE retires] + +Second Witch By the pricking of my thumbs, + Something wicked this way comes. + Open, locks, + Whoever knocks! + + [Enter MACBETH] + +MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! + What is't you do? + +ALL A deed without a name. + +MACBETH I conjure you, by that which you profess, + Howe'er you come to know it, answer me: + Though you untie the winds and let them fight + Against the churches; though the yesty waves + Confound and swallow navigation up; + Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down; + Though castles topple on their warders' heads; + Though palaces and pyramids do slope + Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure + Of nature's germens tumble all together, + Even till destruction sicken; answer me + To what I ask you. + +First Witch Speak. + +Second Witch Demand. + +Third Witch We'll answer. + +First Witch Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, + Or from our masters? + +MACBETH Call 'em; let me see 'em. + +First Witch Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten + Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten + From the murderer's gibbet throw + Into the flame. + +ALL Come, high or low; + Thyself and office deftly show! + + [Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head] + +MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown power,-- + +First Witch He knows thy thought: + Hear his speech, but say thou nought. + +First Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff; + Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. + + [Descends] + +MACBETH Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; + Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one + word more,-- + +First Witch He will not be commanded: here's another, + More potent than the first. + + [Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child] + +Second Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! + +MACBETH Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee. + +Second Apparition Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn + The power of man, for none of woman born + Shall harm Macbeth. + + [Descends] + +MACBETH Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? + But yet I'll make assurance double sure, + And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live; + That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, + And sleep in spite of thunder. + + [Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, + with a tree in his hand] + + What is this + That rises like the issue of a king, + And wears upon his baby-brow the round + And top of sovereignty? + +ALL Listen, but speak not to't. + +Third Apparition Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care + Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: + Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until + Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill + Shall come against him. + + [Descends] + +MACBETH That will never be + Who can impress the forest, bid the tree + Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good! + Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood + Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth + Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath + To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart + Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art + Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever + Reign in this kingdom? + +ALL Seek to know no more. + +MACBETH I will be satisfied: deny me this, + And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. + Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? + + [Hautboys] + +First Witch Show! + +Second Witch Show! + +Third Witch Show! + +ALL Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; + Come like shadows, so depart! + + [A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in + his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following] + +MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down! + Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair, + Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. + A third is like the former. Filthy hags! + Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes! + What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? + Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more: + And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass + Which shows me many more; and some I see + That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry: + Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true; + For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, + And points at them for his. + + [Apparitions vanish] + + What, is this so? + +First Witch Ay, sir, all this is so: but why + Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? + Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, + And show the best of our delights: + I'll charm the air to give a sound, + While you perform your antic round: + That this great king may kindly say, + Our duties did his welcome pay. + + [Music. The witches dance and then vanish, + with HECATE] + +MACBETH Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour + Stand aye accursed in the calendar! + Come in, without there! + + [Enter LENNOX] + +LENNOX What's your grace's will? + +MACBETH Saw you the weird sisters? + +LENNOX No, my lord. + +MACBETH Came they not by you? + +LENNOX No, indeed, my lord. + +MACBETH Infected be the air whereon they ride; + And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear + The galloping of horse: who was't came by? + +LENNOX 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word + Macduff is fled to England. + +MACBETH Fled to England! + +LENNOX Ay, my good lord. + +MACBETH Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: + The flighty purpose never is o'ertook + Unless the deed go with it; from this moment + The very firstlings of my heart shall be + The firstlings of my hand. And even now, + To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: + The castle of Macduff I will surprise; + Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword + His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls + That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; + This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. + But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen? + Come, bring me where they are. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Fife. Macduff's castle. + + + [Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS] + +LADY MACDUFF What had he done, to make him fly the land? + +ROSS You must have patience, madam. + +LADY MACDUFF He had none: + His flight was madness: when our actions do not, + Our fears do make us traitors. + +ROSS You know not + Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. + +LADY MACDUFF Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, + His mansion and his titles in a place + From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; + He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren, + The most diminutive of birds, will fight, + Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. + All is the fear and nothing is the love; + As little is the wisdom, where the flight + So runs against all reason. + +ROSS My dearest coz, + I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband, + He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows + The fits o' the season. I dare not speak + much further; + But cruel are the times, when we are traitors + And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour + From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, + But float upon a wild and violent sea + Each way and move. I take my leave of you: + Shall not be long but I'll be here again: + Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward + To what they were before. My pretty cousin, + Blessing upon you! + +LADY MACDUFF Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. + +ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, + It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: + I take my leave at once. + + [Exit] + +LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father's dead; + And what will you do now? How will you live? + +Son As birds do, mother. + +LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies? + +Son With what I get, I mean; and so do they. + +LADY MACDUFF Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, + The pitfall nor the gin. + +Son Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. + My father is not dead, for all your saying. + +LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father? + +Son Nay, how will you do for a husband? + +LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. + +Son Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. + +LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith, + With wit enough for thee. + +Son Was my father a traitor, mother? + +LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was. + +Son What is a traitor? + +LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies. + +Son And be all traitors that do so? + +LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. + +Son And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? + +LADY MACDUFF Every one. + +Son Who must hang them? + +LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men. + +Son Then the liars and swearers are fools, + for there are liars and swearers enow to beat + the honest men and hang up them. + +LADY MACDUFF Now, God help thee, poor monkey! + But how wilt thou do for a father? + +Son If he were dead, you'ld weep for + him: if you would not, it were a good sign + that I should quickly have a new father. + +LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, + Though in your state of honour I am perfect. + I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: + If you will take a homely man's advice, + Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. + To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; + To do worse to you were fell cruelty, + Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! + I dare abide no longer. + + [Exit] + +LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly? + I have done no harm. But I remember now + I am in this earthly world; where to do harm + Is often laudable, to do good sometime + Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, + Do I put up that womanly defence, + To say I have done no harm? + + [Enter Murderers] + + What are these faces? + +First Murderer Where is your husband? + +LADY MACDUFF I hope, in no place so unsanctified + Where such as thou mayst find him. + +First Murderer He's a traitor. + +Son Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain! + +First Murderer What, you egg! + + [Stabbing him] + + Young fry of treachery! + +Son He has kill'd me, mother: + Run away, I pray you! + + [Dies] + + [Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt + Murderers, following her] + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III England. Before the King's palace. + + + [Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF] + +MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there + Weep our sad bosoms empty. + +MACDUFF Let us rather + Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men + Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn + New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows + Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds + As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out + Like syllable of dolour. + +MALCOLM What I believe I'll wail, + What know believe, and what I can redress, + As I shall find the time to friend, I will. + What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. + This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, + Was once thought honest: you have loved him well. + He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; + but something + You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom + To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb + To appease an angry god. + +MACDUFF I am not treacherous. + +MALCOLM But Macbeth is. + A good and virtuous nature may recoil + In an imperial charge. But I shall crave + your pardon; + That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: + Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; + Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, + Yet grace must still look so. + +MACDUFF I have lost my hopes. + +MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. + Why in that rawness left you wife and child, + Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, + Without leave-taking? I pray you, + Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, + But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, + Whatever I shall think. + +MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country! + Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure, + For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou + thy wrongs; + The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord: + I would not be the villain that thou think'st + For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, + And the rich East to boot. + +MALCOLM Be not offended: + I speak not as in absolute fear of you. + I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; + It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash + Is added to her wounds: I think withal + There would be hands uplifted in my right; + And here from gracious England have I offer + Of goodly thousands: but, for all this, + When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, + Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country + Shall have more vices than it had before, + More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, + By him that shall succeed. + +MACDUFF What should he be? + +MALCOLM It is myself I mean: in whom I know + All the particulars of vice so grafted + That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth + Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state + Esteem him as a lamb, being compared + With my confineless harms. + +MACDUFF Not in the legions + Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd + In evils to top Macbeth. + +MALCOLM I grant him bloody, + Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, + Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin + That has a name: but there's no bottom, none, + In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters, + Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up + The cistern of my lust, and my desire + All continent impediments would o'erbear + That did oppose my will: better Macbeth + Than such an one to reign. + +MACDUFF Boundless intemperance + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + The untimely emptying of the happy throne + And fall of many kings. But fear not yet + To take upon you what is yours: you may + Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, + And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. + We have willing dames enough: there cannot be + That vulture in you, to devour so many + As will to greatness dedicate themselves, + Finding it so inclined. + +MALCOLM With this there grows + In my most ill-composed affection such + A stanchless avarice that, were I king, + I should cut off the nobles for their lands, + Desire his jewels and this other's house: + And my more-having would be as a sauce + To make me hunger more; that I should forge + Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, + Destroying them for wealth. + +MACDUFF This avarice + Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root + Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been + The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear; + Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will. + Of your mere own: all these are portable, + With other graces weigh'd. + +MALCOLM But I have none: the king-becoming graces, + As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, + Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, + Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, + I have no relish of them, but abound + In the division of each several crime, + Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should + Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, + Uproar the universal peace, confound + All unity on earth. + +MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland! + +MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak: + I am as I have spoken. + +MACDUFF Fit to govern! + No, not to live. O nation miserable, + With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, + When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, + Since that the truest issue of thy throne + By his own interdiction stands accursed, + And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father + Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee, + Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, + Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! + These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself + Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast, + Thy hope ends here! + +MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion, + Child of integrity, hath from my soul + Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts + To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth + By many of these trains hath sought to win me + Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me + From over-credulous haste: but God above + Deal between thee and me! for even now + I put myself to thy direction, and + Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure + The taints and blames I laid upon myself, + For strangers to my nature. I am yet + Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, + Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, + At no time broke my faith, would not betray + The devil to his fellow and delight + No less in truth than life: my first false speaking + Was this upon myself: what I am truly, + Is thine and my poor country's to command: + Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, + Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, + Already at a point, was setting forth. + Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness + Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? + +MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once + 'Tis hard to reconcile. + + [Enter a Doctor] + +MALCOLM Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you? + +Doctor Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls + That stay his cure: their malady convinces + The great assay of art; but at his touch-- + Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand-- + They presently amend. + +MALCOLM I thank you, doctor. + + [Exit Doctor] + +MACDUFF What's the disease he means? + +MALCOLM 'Tis call'd the evil: + A most miraculous work in this good king; + Which often, since my here-remain in England, + I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, + Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people, + All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, + The mere despair of surgery, he cures, + Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, + Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken, + To the succeeding royalty he leaves + The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, + He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, + And sundry blessings hang about his throne, + That speak him full of grace. + + [Enter ROSS] + +MACDUFF See, who comes here? + +MALCOLM My countryman; but yet I know him not. + +MACDUFF My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. + +MALCOLM I know him now. Good God, betimes remove + The means that makes us strangers! + +ROSS Sir, amen. + +MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did? + +ROSS Alas, poor country! + Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot + Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, + But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; + Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air + Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems + A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell + Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives + Expire before the flowers in their caps, + Dying or ere they sicken. + +MACDUFF O, relation + Too nice, and yet too true! + +MALCOLM What's the newest grief? + +ROSS That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker: + Each minute teems a new one. + +MACDUFF How does my wife? + +ROSS Why, well. + +MACDUFF And all my children? + +ROSS Well too. + +MACDUFF The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? + +ROSS No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. + +MACDUFF But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't? + +ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings, + Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour + Of many worthy fellows that were out; + Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, + For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot: + Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland + Would create soldiers, make our women fight, + To doff their dire distresses. + +MALCOLM Be't their comfort + We are coming thither: gracious England hath + Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; + An older and a better soldier none + That Christendom gives out. + +ROSS Would I could answer + This comfort with the like! But I have words + That would be howl'd out in the desert air, + Where hearing should not latch them. + +MACDUFF What concern they? + The general cause? or is it a fee-grief + Due to some single breast? + +ROSS No mind that's honest + But in it shares some woe; though the main part + Pertains to you alone. + +MACDUFF If it be mine, + Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. + +ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, + Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound + That ever yet they heard. + +MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it. + +ROSS Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes + Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, + Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, + To add the death of you. + +MALCOLM Merciful heaven! + What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; + Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak + Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. + +MACDUFF My children too? + +ROSS Wife, children, servants, all + That could be found. + +MACDUFF And I must be from thence! + My wife kill'd too? + +ROSS I have said. + +MALCOLM Be comforted: + Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, + To cure this deadly grief. + +MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones? + Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? + What, all my pretty chickens and their dam + At one fell swoop? + +MALCOLM Dispute it like a man. + +MACDUFF I shall do so; + But I must also feel it as a man: + I cannot but remember such things were, + That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, + And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, + They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, + Not for their own demerits, but for mine, + Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now! + +MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief + Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. + +MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes + And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, + Cut short all intermission; front to front + Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; + Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, + Heaven forgive him too! + +MALCOLM This tune goes manly. + Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; + Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth + Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above + Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may: + The night is long that never finds the day. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle. + + + [Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman] + +Doctor I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive + no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? + +Gentlewoman Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen + her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon + her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, + write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again + return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. + +Doctor A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once + the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of + watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her + walking and other actual performances, what, at any + time, have you heard her say? + +Gentlewoman That, sir, which I will not report after her. + +Doctor You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should. + +Gentlewoman Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to + confirm my speech. + + [Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper] + + Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; + and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. + +Doctor How came she by that light? + +Gentlewoman Why, it stood by her: she has light by her + continually; 'tis her command. + +Doctor You see, her eyes are open. + +Gentlewoman Ay, but their sense is shut. + +Doctor What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. + +Gentlewoman It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus + washing her hands: I have known her continue in + this a quarter of an hour. + +LADY MACBETH Yet here's a spot. + +Doctor Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from + her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. + +LADY MACBETH Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why, + then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my + lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we + fear who knows it, when none can call our power to + account?--Yet who would have thought the old man + to have had so much blood in him. + +Doctor Do you mark that? + +LADY MACBETH The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?-- + What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o' + that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with + this starting. + +Doctor Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. + +Gentlewoman She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of + that: heaven knows what she has known. + +LADY MACBETH Here's the smell of the blood still: all the + perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little + hand. Oh, oh, oh! + +Doctor What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. + +Gentlewoman I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the + dignity of the whole body. + +Doctor Well, well, well,-- + +Gentlewoman Pray God it be, sir. + +Doctor This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known + those which have walked in their sleep who have died + holily in their beds. + +LADY MACBETH Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so + pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he + cannot come out on's grave. + +Doctor Even so? + +LADY MACBETH To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate: + come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's + done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed! + + [Exit] + +Doctor Will she go now to bed? + +Gentlewoman Directly. + +Doctor Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds + Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds + To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets: + More needs she the divine than the physician. + God, God forgive us all! Look after her; + Remove from her the means of all annoyance, + And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night: + My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. + I think, but dare not speak. + +Gentlewoman Good night, good doctor. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II The country near Dunsinane. + + + [Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, + LENNOX, and Soldiers] + +MENTEITH The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, + His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: + Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes + Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm + Excite the mortified man. + +ANGUS Near Birnam wood + Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. + +CAITHNESS Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? + +LENNOX For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file + Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son, + And many unrough youths that even now + Protest their first of manhood. + +MENTEITH What does the tyrant? + +CAITHNESS Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: + Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him + Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, + He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause + Within the belt of rule. + +ANGUS Now does he feel + His secret murders sticking on his hands; + Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; + Those he commands move only in command, + Nothing in love: now does he feel his title + Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe + Upon a dwarfish thief. + +MENTEITH Who then shall blame + His pester'd senses to recoil and start, + When all that is within him does condemn + Itself for being there? + +CAITHNESS Well, march we on, + To give obedience where 'tis truly owed: + Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, + And with him pour we in our country's purge + Each drop of us. + +LENNOX Or so much as it needs, + To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. + Make we our march towards Birnam. + + [Exeunt, marching] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Dunsinane. A room in the castle. + + + [Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants] + +MACBETH Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: + Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, + I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? + Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know + All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: + 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman + Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly, + false thanes, + And mingle with the English epicures: + The mind I sway by and the heart I bear + Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. + + [Enter a Servant] + + The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! + Where got'st thou that goose look? + +Servant There is ten thousand-- + +MACBETH Geese, villain! + +Servant Soldiers, sir. + +MACBETH Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, + Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? + Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine + Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? + +Servant The English force, so please you. + +MACBETH Take thy face hence. + + [Exit Servant] + + Seyton!--I am sick at heart, + When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push + Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. + I have lived long enough: my way of life + Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; + And that which should accompany old age, + As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, + Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton! + + [Enter SEYTON] + +SEYTON What is your gracious pleasure? + +MACBETH What news more? + +SEYTON All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. + +MACBETH I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd. + Give me my armour. + +SEYTON 'Tis not needed yet. + +MACBETH I'll put it on. + Send out more horses; skirr the country round; + Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. + How does your patient, doctor? + +Doctor Not so sick, my lord, + As she is troubled with thick coming fancies, + That keep her from her rest. + +MACBETH Cure her of that. + Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, + Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, + Raze out the written troubles of the brain + And with some sweet oblivious antidote + Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff + Which weighs upon the heart? + +Doctor Therein the patient + Must minister to himself. + +MACBETH Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it. + Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. + Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me. + Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast + The water of my land, find her disease, + And purge it to a sound and pristine health, + I would applaud thee to the very echo, + That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.-- + What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug, + Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them? + +Doctor Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation + Makes us hear something. + +MACBETH Bring it after me. + I will not be afraid of death and bane, + Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. + +Doctor [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, + Profit again should hardly draw me here. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Country near Birnam wood. + + + [Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG + SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, + LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching] + +MALCOLM Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand + That chambers will be safe. + +MENTEITH We doubt it nothing. + +SIWARD What wood is this before us? + +MENTEITH The wood of Birnam. + +MALCOLM Let every soldier hew him down a bough + And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow + The numbers of our host and make discovery + Err in report of us. + +Soldiers It shall be done. + +SIWARD We learn no other but the confident tyrant + Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure + Our setting down before 't. + +MALCOLM 'Tis his main hope: + For where there is advantage to be given, + Both more and less have given him the revolt, + And none serve with him but constrained things + Whose hearts are absent too. + +MACDUFF Let our just censures + Attend the true event, and put we on + Industrious soldiership. + +SIWARD The time approaches + That will with due decision make us know + What we shall say we have and what we owe. + Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, + But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: + Towards which advance the war. + + [Exeunt, marching] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE V Dunsinane. Within the castle. + + + [Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum + and colours] + +MACBETH Hang out our banners on the outward walls; + The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength + Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie + Till famine and the ague eat them up: + Were they not forced with those that should be ours, + We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, + And beat them backward home. + + [A cry of women within] + + What is that noise? + +SEYTON It is the cry of women, my good lord. + + [Exit] + +MACBETH I have almost forgot the taste of fears; + The time has been, my senses would have cool'd + To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair + Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir + As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; + Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts + Cannot once start me. + + [Re-enter SEYTON] + + Wherefore was that cry? + +SEYTON The queen, my lord, is dead. + +MACBETH She should have died hereafter; + There would have been a time for such a word. + To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, + Creeps in this petty pace from day to day + To the last syllable of recorded time, + And all our yesterdays have lighted fools + The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + [Enter a Messenger] + + Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. + +Messenger Gracious my lord, + I should report that which I say I saw, + But know not how to do it. + +MACBETH Well, say, sir. + +Messenger As I did stand my watch upon the hill, + I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, + The wood began to move. + +MACBETH Liar and slave! + +Messenger Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: + Within this three mile may you see it coming; + I say, a moving grove. + +MACBETH If thou speak'st false, + Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, + Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, + I care not if thou dost for me as much. + I pull in resolution, and begin + To doubt the equivocation of the fiend + That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood + Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood + Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! + If this which he avouches does appear, + There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. + I gin to be aweary of the sun, + And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. + Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! + At least we'll die with harness on our back. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VI Dunsinane. Before the castle. + + + [Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, + and their Army, with boughs] + +MALCOLM Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down. + And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, + Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, + Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we + Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, + According to our order. + +SIWARD Fare you well. + Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, + Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. + +MACDUFF Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, + Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VII Another part of the field. + + + [Alarums. Enter MACBETH] + +MACBETH They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, + But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he + That was not born of woman? Such a one + Am I to fear, or none. + + [Enter YOUNG SIWARD] + +YOUNG SIWARD What is thy name? + +MACBETH Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. + +YOUNG SIWARD No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name + Than any is in hell. + +MACBETH My name's Macbeth. + +YOUNG SIWARD The devil himself could not pronounce a title + More hateful to mine ear. + +MACBETH No, nor more fearful. + +YOUNG SIWARD Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword + I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. + + [They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain] + +MACBETH Thou wast born of woman + But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, + Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. + + [Exit] + + [Alarums. Enter MACDUFF] + +MACDUFF That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! + If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine, + My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. + I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms + Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth, + Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge + I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; + By this great clatter, one of greatest note + Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! + And more I beg not. + + [Exit. Alarums] + + [Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD] + +SIWARD This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd: + The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; + The noble thanes do bravely in the war; + The day almost itself professes yours, + And little is to do. + +MALCOLM We have met with foes + That strike beside us. + +SIWARD Enter, sir, the castle. + + [Exeunt. Alarums] + + + + + MACBETH + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE VIII Another part of the field. + + + [Enter MACBETH] + +MACBETH Why should I play the Roman fool, and die + On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes + Do better upon them. + + [Enter MACDUFF] + +MACDUFF Turn, hell-hound, turn! + +MACBETH Of all men else I have avoided thee: + But get thee back; my soul is too much charged + With blood of thine already. + +MACDUFF I have no words: + My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain + Than terms can give thee out! + + [They fight] + +MACBETH Thou losest labour: + As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air + With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed: + Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; + I bear a charmed life, which must not yield, + To one of woman born. + +MACDUFF Despair thy charm; + And let the angel whom thou still hast served + Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb + Untimely ripp'd. + +MACBETH Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, + For it hath cow'd my better part of man! + And be these juggling fiends no more believed, + That palter with us in a double sense; + That keep the word of promise to our ear, + And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. + +MACDUFF Then yield thee, coward, + And live to be the show and gaze o' the time: + We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, + Painted on a pole, and underwrit, + 'Here may you see the tyrant.' + +MACBETH I will not yield, + To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, + And to be baited with the rabble's curse. + Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, + And thou opposed, being of no woman born, + Yet I will try the last. Before my body + I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, + And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' + + [Exeunt, fighting. Alarums] + + [Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, + MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers] + +MALCOLM I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. + +SIWARD Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, + So great a day as this is cheaply bought. + +MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble son. + +ROSS Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: + He only lived but till he was a man; + The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd + In the unshrinking station where he fought, + But like a man he died. + +SIWARD Then he is dead? + +ROSS Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow + Must not be measured by his worth, for then + It hath no end. + +SIWARD Had he his hurts before? + +ROSS Ay, on the front. + +SIWARD Why then, God's soldier be he! + Had I as many sons as I have hairs, + I would not wish them to a fairer death: + And so, his knell is knoll'd. + +MALCOLM He's worth more sorrow, + And that I'll spend for him. + +SIWARD He's worth no more + They say he parted well, and paid his score: + And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. + + [Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head] + +MACDUFF Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands + The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: + I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl, + That speak my salutation in their minds; + Whose voices I desire aloud with mine: + Hail, King of Scotland! + +ALL Hail, King of Scotland! + + [Flourish] + +MALCOLM We shall not spend a large expense of time + Before we reckon with your several loves, + And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen, + Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland + In such an honour named. What's more to do, + Which would be planted newly with the time, + As calling home our exiled friends abroad + That fled the snares of watchful tyranny; + Producing forth the cruel ministers + Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, + Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands + Took off her life; this, and what needful else + That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, + We will perform in measure, time and place: + So, thanks to all at once and to each one, + Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + OTHELLO + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +DUKE OF VENICE: + +BRABANTIO a senator. + + Other Senators. + (Senator:) + (First Senator:) + (Second Senator:) + +GRATIANO brother to Brabantio. + +LODOVICO kinsman to Brabantio. + +OTHELLO a noble Moor in the service of the Venetian state. + +CASSIO his lieutenant. + +IAGO his ancient. + +RODERIGO a Venetian gentleman. + +MONTANO Othello's predecessor in the government of Cyprus. + + Clown, servant to Othello. (Clown:) + +DESDEMONA daughter to Brabantio and wife to Othello. + +EMILIA wife to Iago. + +BIANCA mistress to Cassio. + + Sailor, Messenger, Herald, Officers, Gentlemen, + Musicians, and Attendants. + (Sailor:) + (First Officer:) + (Messenger:) + (Gentleman:) + (First Gentleman:) + (Second Gentleman:) + (Third Gentleman:) + (First Musician:) + + +SCENE Venice: a Sea-port in Cyprus. + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Venice. A street. + + + [Enter RODERIGO and IAGO] + +RODERIGO Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly + That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse + As if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this. + +IAGO 'Sblood, but you will not hear me: + If ever I did dream of such a matter, Abhor me. + +RODERIGO Thou told'st me thou didst hold him in thy hate. + +IAGO Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city, + In personal suit to make me his lieutenant, + Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man, + I know my price, I am worth no worse a place: + But he; as loving his own pride and purposes, + Evades them, with a bombast circumstance + Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; + And, in conclusion, + Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he, + 'I have already chose my officer.' + And what was he? + Forsooth, a great arithmetician, + One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, + A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife; + That never set a squadron in the field, + Nor the division of a battle knows + More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric, + Wherein the toged consuls can propose + As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practise, + Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election: + And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof + At Rhodes, at Cyprus and on other grounds + Christian and heathen, must be be-lee'd and calm'd + By debitor and creditor: this counter-caster, + He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, + And I--God bless the mark!--his Moorship's ancient. + +RODERIGO By heaven, I rather would have been his hangman. + +IAGO Why, there's no remedy; 'tis the curse of service, + Preferment goes by letter and affection, + And not by old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, + Whether I in any just term am affined + To love the Moor. + +RODERIGO I would not follow him then. + +IAGO O, sir, content you; + I follow him to serve my turn upon him: + We cannot all be masters, nor all masters + Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark + Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, + That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, + Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, + For nought but provender, and when he's old, cashier'd: + Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are + Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, + Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves, + And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, + Do well thrive by them and when they have lined + their coats + Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; + And such a one do I profess myself. For, sir, + It is as sure as you are Roderigo, + Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago: + In following him, I follow but myself; + Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, + But seeming so, for my peculiar end: + For when my outward action doth demonstrate + The native act and figure of my heart + In compliment extern, 'tis not long after + But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve + For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. + +RODERIGO What a full fortune does the thicklips owe + If he can carry't thus! + +IAGO Call up her father, + Rouse him: make after him, poison his delight, + Proclaim him in the streets; incense her kinsmen, + And, though he in a fertile climate dwell, + Plague him with flies: though that his joy be joy, + Yet throw such changes of vexation on't, + As it may lose some colour. + +RODERIGO Here is her father's house; I'll call aloud. + +IAGO Do, with like timorous accent and dire yell + As when, by night and negligence, the fire + Is spied in populous cities. + +RODERIGO What, ho, Brabantio! Signior Brabantio, ho! + +IAGO Awake! what, ho, Brabantio! thieves! thieves! thieves! + Look to your house, your daughter and your bags! + Thieves! thieves! + + [BRABANTIO appears above, at a window] + +BRABANTIO What is the reason of this terrible summons? + What is the matter there? + +RODERIGO Signior, is all your family within? + +IAGO Are your doors lock'd? + +BRABANTIO Why, wherefore ask you this? + +IAGO 'Zounds, sir, you're robb'd; for shame, put on + your gown; + Your heart is burst, you have lost half your soul; + Even now, now, very now, an old black ram + Is topping your white ewe. Arise, arise; + Awake the snorting citizens with the bell, + Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you: + Arise, I say. + +BRABANTIO What, have you lost your wits? + +RODERIGO Most reverend signior, do you know my voice? + +BRABANTIO Not I what are you? + +RODERIGO My name is Roderigo. + +BRABANTIO The worser welcome: + I have charged thee not to haunt about my doors: + In honest plainness thou hast heard me say + My daughter is not for thee; and now, in madness, + Being full of supper and distempering draughts, + Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come + To start my quiet. + +RODERIGO Sir, sir, sir,-- + +BRABANTIO But thou must needs be sure + My spirit and my place have in them power + To make this bitter to thee. + +RODERIGO Patience, good sir. + +BRABANTIO What tell'st thou me of robbing? this is Venice; + My house is not a grange. + +RODERIGO Most grave Brabantio, + In simple and pure soul I come to you. + +IAGO 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those that will not + serve God, if the devil bid you. Because we come to + do you service and you think we are ruffians, you'll + have your daughter covered with a Barbary horse; + you'll have your nephews neigh to you; you'll have + coursers for cousins and gennets for germans. + +BRABANTIO What profane wretch art thou? + +IAGO I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter + and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs. + +BRABANTIO Thou art a villain. + +IAGO You are--a senator. + +BRABANTIO This thou shalt answer; I know thee, Roderigo. + +RODERIGO Sir, I will answer any thing. But, I beseech you, + If't be your pleasure and most wise consent, + As partly I find it is, that your fair daughter, + At this odd-even and dull watch o' the night, + Transported, with no worse nor better guard + But with a knave of common hire, a gondolier, + To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor-- + If this be known to you and your allowance, + We then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; + But if you know not this, my manners tell me + We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe + That, from the sense of all civility, + I thus would play and trifle with your reverence: + Your daughter, if you have not given her leave, + I say again, hath made a gross revolt; + Tying her duty, beauty, wit and fortunes + In an extravagant and wheeling stranger + Of here and every where. Straight satisfy yourself: + If she be in her chamber or your house, + Let loose on me the justice of the state + For thus deluding you. + +BRABANTIO Strike on the tinder, ho! + Give me a taper! call up all my people! + This accident is not unlike my dream: + Belief of it oppresses me already. + Light, I say! light! + + [Exit above] + +IAGO Farewell; for I must leave you: + It seems not meet, nor wholesome to my place, + To be produced--as, if I stay, I shall-- + Against the Moor: for, I do know, the state, + However this may gall him with some cheque, + Cannot with safety cast him, for he's embark'd + With such loud reason to the Cyprus wars, + Which even now stand in act, that, for their souls, + Another of his fathom they have none, + To lead their business: in which regard, + Though I do hate him as I do hell-pains. + Yet, for necessity of present life, + I must show out a flag and sign of love, + Which is indeed but sign. That you shall surely find him, + Lead to the Sagittary the raised search; + And there will I be with him. So, farewell. + + [Exit] + + [Enter, below, BRABANTIO, and Servants with torches] + +BRABANTIO It is too true an evil: gone she is; + And what's to come of my despised time + Is nought but bitterness. Now, Roderigo, + Where didst thou see her? O unhappy girl! + With the Moor, say'st thou? Who would be a father! + How didst thou know 'twas she? O she deceives me + Past thought! What said she to you? Get more tapers: + Raise all my kindred. Are they married, think you? + +RODERIGO Truly, I think they are. + +BRABANTIO O heaven! How got she out? O treason of the blood! + Fathers, from hence trust not your daughters' minds + By what you see them act. Is there not charms + By which the property of youth and maidhood + May be abused? Have you not read, Roderigo, + Of some such thing? + +RODERIGO Yes, sir, I have indeed. + +BRABANTIO Call up my brother. O, would you had had her! + Some one way, some another. Do you know + Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? + +RODERIGO I think I can discover him, if you please, + To get good guard and go along with me. + +BRABANTIO Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; + I may command at most. Get weapons, ho! + And raise some special officers of night. + On, good Roderigo: I'll deserve your pains. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II Another street. + + + [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Attendants with torches] + +IAGO Though in the trade of war I have slain men, + Yet do I hold it very stuff o' the conscience + To do no contrived murder: I lack iniquity + Sometimes to do me service: nine or ten times + I had thought to have yerk'd him here under the ribs. + +OTHELLO 'Tis better as it is. + +IAGO Nay, but he prated, + + And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms + Against your honour + That, with the little godliness I have, + I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray you, sir, + Are you fast married? Be assured of this, + That the magnifico is much beloved, + And hath in his effect a voice potential + As double as the duke's: he will divorce you; + Or put upon you what restraint and grievance + The law, with all his might to enforce it on, + Will give him cable. + +OTHELLO Let him do his spite: + My services which I have done the signiory + Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know,-- + Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, + I shall promulgate--I fetch my life and being + From men of royal siege, and my demerits + May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune + As this that I have reach'd: for know, Iago, + But that I love the gentle Desdemona, + I would not my unhoused free condition + Put into circumscription and confine + For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yond? + +IAGO Those are the raised father and his friends: + You were best go in. + +OTHELLO Not I I must be found: + My parts, my title and my perfect soul + Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they? + +IAGO By Janus, I think no. + + [Enter CASSIO, and certain Officers with torches] + +OTHELLO The servants of the duke, and my lieutenant. + The goodness of the night upon you, friends! + What is the news? + +CASSIO The duke does greet you, general, + And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, + Even on the instant. + +OTHELLO What is the matter, think you? + +CASSIO Something from Cyprus as I may divine: + It is a business of some heat: the galleys + Have sent a dozen sequent messengers + This very night at one another's heels, + And many of the consuls, raised and met, + Are at the duke's already: you have been + hotly call'd for; + When, being not at your lodging to be found, + The senate hath sent about three several guests + To search you out. + +OTHELLO 'Tis well I am found by you. + I will but spend a word here in the house, + And go with you. + + [Exit] + +CASSIO Ancient, what makes he here? + +IAGO 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack: + If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. + +CASSIO I do not understand. + +IAGO He's married. + +CASSIO To who? + + [Re-enter OTHELLO] + +IAGO Marry, to--Come, captain, will you go? + +OTHELLO Have with you. + +CASSIO Here comes another troop to seek for you. + +IAGO It is Brabantio. General, be advised; + He comes to bad intent. + + [Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers with + torches and weapons] + +OTHELLO Holla! stand there! + +RODERIGO Signior, it is the Moor. + +BRABANTIO Down with him, thief! + + [They draw on both sides] + +IAGO You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. + +OTHELLO Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them. + Good signior, you shall more command with years + Than with your weapons. + +BRABANTIO O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? + Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her; + For I'll refer me to all things of sense, + If she in chains of magic were not bound, + Whether a maid so tender, fair and happy, + So opposite to marriage that she shunned + The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, + Would ever have, to incur a general mock, + Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom + Of such a thing as thou, to fear, not to delight. + Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense + That thou hast practised on her with foul charms, + Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals + That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on; + 'Tis probable and palpable to thinking. + I therefore apprehend and do attach thee + For an abuser of the world, a practiser + Of arts inhibited and out of warrant. + Lay hold upon him: if he do resist, + Subdue him at his peril. + +OTHELLO Hold your hands, + Both you of my inclining, and the rest: + Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it + Without a prompter. Where will you that I go + To answer this your charge? + +BRABANTIO To prison, till fit time + Of law and course of direct session + Call thee to answer. + +OTHELLO What if I do obey? + How may the duke be therewith satisfied, + Whose messengers are here about my side, + Upon some present business of the state + To bring me to him? + +First Officer 'Tis true, most worthy signior; + The duke's in council and your noble self, + I am sure, is sent for. + +BRABANTIO How! the duke in council! + In this time of the night! Bring him away: + Mine's not an idle cause: the duke himself, + Or any of my brothers of the state, + Cannot but feel this wrong as 'twere their own; + For if such actions may have passage free, + Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A council-chamber. + + + [The DUKE and Senators sitting at a table; Officers + attending] + +DUKE OF VENICE There is no composition in these news + That gives them credit. + +First Senator Indeed, they are disproportion'd; + My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. + +DUKE OF VENICE And mine, a hundred and forty. + +Second Senator And mine, two hundred: + But though they jump not on a just account,-- + As in these cases, where the aim reports, + 'Tis oft with difference--yet do they all confirm + A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. + +DUKE OF VENICE Nay, it is possible enough to judgment: + I do not so secure me in the error, + But the main article I do approve + In fearful sense. + +Sailor [Within] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho! + +First Officer A messenger from the galleys. + + [Enter a Sailor] + +DUKE OF VENICE Now, what's the business? + +Sailor The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes; + So was I bid report here to the state + By Signior Angelo. + +DUKE OF VENICE How say you by this change? + +First Senator This cannot be, + By no assay of reason: 'tis a pageant, + To keep us in false gaze. When we consider + The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, + And let ourselves again but understand, + That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, + So may he with more facile question bear it, + For that it stands not in such warlike brace, + But altogether lacks the abilities + That Rhodes is dress'd in: if we make thought of this, + We must not think the Turk is so unskilful + To leave that latest which concerns him first, + Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, + To wake and wage a danger profitless. + +DUKE OF VENICE Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. + +First Officer Here is more news. + + [Enter a Messenger] + +Messenger The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, + Steering with due course towards the isle of Rhodes, + Have there injointed them with an after fleet. + +First Senator Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess? + +Messenger Of thirty sail: and now they do restem + Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance + Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, + Your trusty and most valiant servitor, + With his free duty recommends you thus, + And prays you to believe him. + +DUKE OF VENICE 'Tis certain, then, for Cyprus. + Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town? + +First Senator He's now in Florence. + +DUKE OF VENICE Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch. + +First Senator Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor. + + [Enter BRABANTIO, OTHELLO, IAGO, RODERIGO, and Officers] + +DUKE OF VENICE Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you + Against the general enemy Ottoman. + + [To BRABANTIO] + + I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; + We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight. + +BRABANTIO So did I yours. Good your grace, pardon me; + Neither my place nor aught I heard of business + Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care + Take hold on me, for my particular grief + Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature + That it engluts and swallows other sorrows + And it is still itself. + +DUKE OF VENICE Why, what's the matter? + +BRABANTIO My daughter! O, my daughter! + + +DUKE OF VENICE | Dead? +Senator | + + +BRABANTIO Ay, to me; + She is abused, stol'n from me, and corrupted + By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; + For nature so preposterously to err, + Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, + Sans witchcraft could not. + +DUKE OF VENICE Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding + Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself + And you of her, the bloody book of law + You shall yourself read in the bitter letter + After your own sense, yea, though our proper son + Stood in your action. + +BRABANTIO Humbly I thank your grace. + Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, + Your special mandate for the state-affairs + Hath hither brought. + + +DUKE OF VENICE | + | We are very sorry for't. +Senator | + + +DUKE OF VENICE [To OTHELLO] What, in your own part, can you say to this? + +BRABANTIO Nothing, but this is so. + +OTHELLO Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, + My very noble and approved good masters, + That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, + It is most true; true, I have married her: + The very head and front of my offending + Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, + And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace: + For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, + Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used + Their dearest action in the tented field, + And little of this great world can I speak, + More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, + And therefore little shall I grace my cause + In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, + I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver + Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, + What conjuration and what mighty magic, + For such proceeding I am charged withal, + I won his daughter. + +BRABANTIO A maiden never bold; + Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion + Blush'd at herself; and she, in spite of nature, + Of years, of country, credit, every thing, + To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on! + It is a judgment maim'd and most imperfect + That will confess perfection so could err + Against all rules of nature, and must be driven + To find out practises of cunning hell, + Why this should be. I therefore vouch again + That with some mixtures powerful o'er the blood, + Or with some dram conjured to this effect, + He wrought upon her. + +DUKE OF VENICE To vouch this, is no proof, + Without more wider and more overt test + Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods + Of modern seeming do prefer against him. + +First Senator But, Othello, speak: + Did you by indirect and forced courses + Subdue and poison this young maid's affections? + Or came it by request and such fair question + As soul to soul affordeth? + +OTHELLO I do beseech you, + Send for the lady to the Sagittary, + And let her speak of me before her father: + If you do find me foul in her report, + The trust, the office I do hold of you, + Not only take away, but let your sentence + Even fall upon my life. + +DUKE OF VENICE Fetch Desdemona hither. + +OTHELLO Ancient, conduct them: you best know the place. + + [Exeunt IAGO and Attendants] + + And, till she come, as truly as to heaven + I do confess the vices of my blood, + So justly to your grave ears I'll present + How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, + And she in mine. + +DUKE OF VENICE Say it, Othello. + +OTHELLO Her father loved me; oft invited me; + Still question'd me the story of my life, + From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, + That I have passed. + I ran it through, even from my boyish days, + To the very moment that he bade me tell it; + Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, + Of moving accidents by flood and field + Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach, + Of being taken by the insolent foe + And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence + And portance in my travels' history: + Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, + Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven + It was my hint to speak,--such was the process; + And of the Cannibals that each other eat, + The Anthropophagi and men whose heads + Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear + Would Desdemona seriously incline: + But still the house-affairs would draw her thence: + Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, + She'ld come again, and with a greedy ear + Devour up my discourse: which I observing, + Took once a pliant hour, and found good means + To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart + That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, + Whereof by parcels she had something heard, + But not intentively: I did consent, + And often did beguile her of her tears, + When I did speak of some distressful stroke + That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, + She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: + She swore, in faith, twas strange, 'twas passing strange, + 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful: + She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd + That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me, + And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, + I should but teach him how to tell my story. + And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake: + She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd, + And I loved her that she did pity them. + This only is the witchcraft I have used: + Here comes the lady; let her witness it. + + [Enter DESDEMONA, IAGO, and Attendants] + +DUKE OF VENICE I think this tale would win my daughter too. + Good Brabantio, + Take up this mangled matter at the best: + Men do their broken weapons rather use + Than their bare hands. + +BRABANTIO I pray you, hear her speak: + If she confess that she was half the wooer, + Destruction on my head, if my bad blame + Light on the man! Come hither, gentle mistress: + Do you perceive in all this noble company + Where most you owe obedience? + +DESDEMONA My noble father, + I do perceive here a divided duty: + To you I am bound for life and education; + My life and education both do learn me + How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; + I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband, + And so much duty as my mother show'd + To you, preferring you before her father, + So much I challenge that I may profess + Due to the Moor my lord. + +BRABANTIO God be wi' you! I have done. + Please it your grace, on to the state-affairs: + I had rather to adopt a child than get it. + Come hither, Moor: + I here do give thee that with all my heart + Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart + I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel, + I am glad at soul I have no other child: + For thy escape would teach me tyranny, + To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord. + +DUKE OF VENICE Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence, + Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers + Into your favour. + When remedies are past, the griefs are ended + By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. + To mourn a mischief that is past and gone + Is the next way to draw new mischief on. + What cannot be preserved when fortune takes + Patience her injury a mockery makes. + The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief; + He robs himself that spends a bootless grief. + +BRABANTIO So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile; + We lose it not, so long as we can smile. + He bears the sentence well that nothing bears + But the free comfort which from thence he hears, + But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow + That, to pay grief, must of poor patience borrow. + These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, + Being strong on both sides, are equivocal: + But words are words; I never yet did hear + That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear. + I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state. + +DUKE OF VENICE The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for + Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best + known to you; and though we have there a substitute + of most allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a + sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more safer + voice on you: you must therefore be content to + slubber the gloss of your new fortunes with this + more stubborn and boisterous expedition. + +OTHELLO The tyrant custom, most grave senators, + Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war + My thrice-driven bed of down: I do agnise + A natural and prompt alacrity + I find in hardness, and do undertake + These present wars against the Ottomites. + Most humbly therefore bending to your state, + I crave fit disposition for my wife. + Due reference of place and exhibition, + With such accommodation and besort + As levels with her breeding. + +DUKE OF VENICE If you please, + Be't at her father's. + +BRABANTIO I'll not have it so. + +OTHELLO Nor I. + +DESDEMONA Nor I; I would not there reside, + To put my father in impatient thoughts + By being in his eye. Most gracious duke, + To my unfolding lend your prosperous ear; + And let me find a charter in your voice, + To assist my simpleness. + +DUKE OF VENICE What would You, Desdemona? + +DESDEMONA That I did love the Moor to live with him, + My downright violence and storm of fortunes + May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued + Even to the very quality of my lord: + I saw Othello's visage in his mind, + And to his honour and his valiant parts + Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. + So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, + A moth of peace, and he go to the war, + The rites for which I love him are bereft me, + And I a heavy interim shall support + By his dear absence. Let me go with him. + +OTHELLO Let her have your voices. + Vouch with me, heaven, I therefore beg it not, + To please the palate of my appetite, + Nor to comply with heat--the young affects + In me defunct--and proper satisfaction. + But to be free and bounteous to her mind: + And heaven defend your good souls, that you think + I will your serious and great business scant + For she is with me: no, when light-wing'd toys + Of feather'd Cupid seal with wanton dullness + My speculative and officed instruments, + That my disports corrupt and taint my business, + Let housewives make a skillet of my helm, + And all indign and base adversities + Make head against my estimation! + +DUKE OF VENICE Be it as you shall privately determine, + Either for her stay or going: the affair cries haste, + And speed must answer it. + +First Senator You must away to-night. + +OTHELLO With all my heart. + +DUKE OF VENICE At nine i' the morning here we'll meet again. + Othello, leave some officer behind, + And he shall our commission bring to you; + With such things else of quality and respect + As doth import you. + +OTHELLO So please your grace, my ancient; + A man he is of honest and trust: + To his conveyance I assign my wife, + With what else needful your good grace shall think + To be sent after me. + +DUKE OF VENICE Let it be so. + Good night to every one. + + [To BRABANTIO] + + And, noble signior, + If virtue no delighted beauty lack, + Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. + +First Senator Adieu, brave Moor, use Desdemona well. + +BRABANTIO Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: + She has deceived her father, and may thee. + + [Exeunt DUKE OF VENICE, Senators, Officers, &c] + +OTHELLO My life upon her faith! Honest Iago, + My Desdemona must I leave to thee: + I prithee, let thy wife attend on her: + And bring them after in the best advantage. + + Come, Desdemona: I have but an hour + Of love, of worldly matters and direction, + To spend with thee: we must obey the time. + + [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA] + +RODERIGO Iago,-- + +IAGO What say'st thou, noble heart? + +RODERIGO What will I do, thinkest thou? + +IAGO Why, go to bed, and sleep. + +RODERIGO I will incontinently drown myself. + +IAGO If thou dost, I shall never love thee after. Why, + thou silly gentleman! + +RODERIGO It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and + then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician. + +IAGO O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four + times seven years; and since I could distinguish + betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found man + that knew how to love himself. Ere I would say, I + would drown myself for the love of a guinea-hen, I + would change my humanity with a baboon. + +RODERIGO What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so + fond; but it is not in my virtue to amend it. + +IAGO Virtue! a fig! 'tis in ourselves that we are thus + or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which + our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant + nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up + thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs, or + distract it with many, either to have it sterile + with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the + power and corrigible authority of this lies in our + wills. If the balance of our lives had not one + scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the + blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us + to most preposterous conclusions: but we have + reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal + stings, our unbitted lusts, whereof I take this that + you call love to be a sect or scion. + +RODERIGO It cannot be. + +IAGO It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of + the will. Come, be a man. Drown thyself! drown + cats and blind puppies. I have professed me thy + friend and I confess me knit to thy deserving with + cables of perdurable toughness; I could never + better stead thee than now. Put money in thy + purse; follow thou the wars; defeat thy favour with + an usurped beard; I say, put money in thy purse. It + cannot be that Desdemona should long continue her + love to the Moor,-- put money in thy purse,--nor he + his to her: it was a violent commencement, and thou + shalt see an answerable sequestration:--put but + money in thy purse. These Moors are changeable in + their wills: fill thy purse with money:--the food + that to him now is as luscious as locusts, shall be + to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must + change for youth: when she is sated with his body, + she will find the error of her choice: she must + have change, she must: therefore put money in thy + purse. If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a + more delicate way than drowning. Make all the money + thou canst: if sanctimony and a frail vow betwixt + an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian not + too hard for my wits and all the tribe of hell, thou + shalt enjoy her; therefore make money. A pox of + drowning thyself! it is clean out of the way: seek + thou rather to be hanged in compassing thy joy than + to be drowned and go without her. + +RODERIGO Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend on + the issue? + +IAGO Thou art sure of me:--go, make money:--I have told + thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I + hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no + less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge + against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost + thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many + events in the womb of time which will be delivered. + Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more + of this to-morrow. Adieu. + +RODERIGO Where shall we meet i' the morning? + +IAGO At my lodging. + +RODERIGO I'll be with thee betimes. + +IAGO Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo? + +RODERIGO What say you? + +IAGO No more of drowning, do you hear? + +RODERIGO I am changed: I'll go sell all my land. + + [Exit] + +IAGO Thus do I ever make my fool my purse: + For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane, + If I would time expend with such a snipe. + But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor: + And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets + He has done my office: I know not if't be true; + But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, + Will do as if for surety. He holds me well; + The better shall my purpose work on him. + Cassio's a proper man: let me see now: + To get his place and to plume up my will + In double knavery--How, how? Let's see:-- + After some time, to abuse Othello's ear + That he is too familiar with his wife. + He hath a person and a smooth dispose + To be suspected, framed to make women false. + The Moor is of a free and open nature, + That thinks men honest that but seem to be so, + And will as tenderly be led by the nose + As asses are. + I have't. It is engender'd. Hell and night + Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light. + + [Exit] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A Sea-port in Cyprus. An open place near the quay. + + + [Enter MONTANO and two Gentlemen] + +MONTANO What from the cape can you discern at sea? + +First Gentleman Nothing at all: it is a highwrought flood; + I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, + Descry a sail. + +MONTANO Methinks the wind hath spoke aloud at land; + A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements: + If it hath ruffian'd so upon the sea, + What ribs of oak, when mountains melt on them, + Can hold the mortise? What shall we hear of this? + +Second Gentleman A segregation of the Turkish fleet: + + For do but stand upon the foaming shore, + The chidden billow seems to pelt the clouds; + The wind-shaked surge, with high and monstrous mane, + seems to cast water on the burning bear, + And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole: + I never did like molestation view + On the enchafed flood. + +MONTANO If that the Turkish fleet + Be not enshelter'd and embay'd, they are drown'd: + It is impossible they bear it out. + + [Enter a third Gentleman] + +Third Gentleman News, lads! our wars are done. + The desperate tempest hath so bang'd the Turks, + That their designment halts: a noble ship of Venice + Hath seen a grievous wreck and sufferance + On most part of their fleet. + +MONTANO How! is this true? + +Third Gentleman The ship is here put in, + A Veronesa; Michael Cassio, + Lieutenant to the warlike Moor Othello, + Is come on shore: the Moor himself at sea, + And is in full commission here for Cyprus. + +MONTANO I am glad on't; 'tis a worthy governor. + +Third Gentleman But this same Cassio, though he speak of comfort + Touching the Turkish loss, yet he looks sadly, + And prays the Moor be safe; for they were parted + With foul and violent tempest. + +MONTANO Pray heavens he be; + For I have served him, and the man commands + Like a full soldier. Let's to the seaside, ho! + As well to see the vessel that's come in + As to throw out our eyes for brave Othello, + Even till we make the main and the aerial blue + An indistinct regard. + +Third Gentleman Come, let's do so: + For every minute is expectancy + Of more arrivance. + + [Enter CASSIO] + +CASSIO Thanks, you the valiant of this warlike isle, + That so approve the Moor! O, let the heavens + Give him defence against the elements, + For I have lost us him on a dangerous sea. + +MONTANO Is he well shipp'd? + +CASSIO His bark is stoutly timber'd, his pilot + Of very expert and approved allowance; + Therefore my hopes, not surfeited to death, + Stand in bold cure. + + [A cry within 'A sail, a sail, a sail!'] + + [Enter a fourth Gentleman] + +CASSIO What noise? + +Fourth Gentleman The town is empty; on the brow o' the sea + Stand ranks of people, and they cry 'A sail!' + +CASSIO My hopes do shape him for the governor. + + [Guns heard] + +Second Gentlemen They do discharge their shot of courtesy: + Our friends at least. + +CASSIO I pray you, sir, go forth, + And give us truth who 'tis that is arrived. + +Second Gentleman I shall. + + [Exit] + +MONTANO But, good lieutenant, is your general wived? + +CASSIO Most fortunately: he hath achieved a maid + That paragons description and wild fame; + One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens, + And in the essential vesture of creation + Does tire the ingener. + + [Re-enter second Gentleman] + + How now! who has put in? + +Second Gentleman 'Tis one Iago, ancient to the general. + +CASSIO Has had most favourable and happy speed: + Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds, + The gutter'd rocks and congregated sands-- + Traitors ensteep'd to clog the guiltless keel,-- + As having sense of beauty, do omit + Their mortal natures, letting go safely by + The divine Desdemona. + +MONTANO What is she? + +CASSIO She that I spake of, our great captain's captain, + Left in the conduct of the bold Iago, + Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts + A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello guard, + And swell his sail with thine own powerful breath, + That he may bless this bay with his tall ship, + Make love's quick pants in Desdemona's arms, + Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits + And bring all Cyprus comfort! + + [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, IAGO, RODERIGO, and + Attendants] + + O, behold, + The riches of the ship is come on shore! + Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees. + Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven, + Before, behind thee, and on every hand, + Enwheel thee round! + +DESDEMONA I thank you, valiant Cassio. + What tidings can you tell me of my lord? + +CASSIO He is not yet arrived: nor know I aught + But that he's well and will be shortly here. + +DESDEMONA O, but I fear--How lost you company? + +CASSIO The great contention of the sea and skies + Parted our fellowship--But, hark! a sail. + + [Within 'A sail, a sail!' Guns heard] + +Second Gentleman They give their greeting to the citadel; + This likewise is a friend. + +CASSIO See for the news. + + [Exit Gentleman] + + Good ancient, you are welcome. + + [To EMILIA] + + Welcome, mistress. + Let it not gall your patience, good Iago, + That I extend my manners; 'tis my breeding + That gives me this bold show of courtesy. + + [Kissing her] + +IAGO Sir, would she give you so much of her lips + As of her tongue she oft bestows on me, + You'll have enough. + +DESDEMONA Alas, she has no speech. + +IAGO In faith, too much; + I find it still, when I have list to sleep: + Marry, before your ladyship, I grant, + She puts her tongue a little in her heart, + And chides with thinking. + +EMILIA You have little cause to say so. + +IAGO Come on, come on; you are pictures out of doors, + Bells in your parlors, wild-cats in your kitchens, + Saints m your injuries, devils being offended, + Players in your housewifery, and housewives' in your beds. + +DESDEMONA O, fie upon thee, slanderer! + +IAGO Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk: + You rise to play and go to bed to work. + +EMILIA You shall not write my praise. + +IAGO No, let me not. + +DESDEMONA What wouldst thou write of me, if thou shouldst + praise me? + +IAGO O gentle lady, do not put me to't; + For I am nothing, if not critical. + +DESDEMONA Come on assay. There's one gone to the harbour? + +IAGO Ay, madam. + +DESDEMONA I am not merry; but I do beguile + The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. + Come, how wouldst thou praise me? + +IAGO I am about it; but indeed my invention + Comes from my pate as birdlime does from frize; + It plucks out brains and all: but my Muse labours, + And thus she is deliver'd. + If she be fair and wise, fairness and wit, + The one's for use, the other useth it. + +DESDEMONA Well praised! How if she be black and witty? + +IAGO If she be black, and thereto have a wit, + She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. + +DESDEMONA Worse and worse. + +EMILIA How if fair and foolish? + +IAGO She never yet was foolish that was fair; + For even her folly help'd her to an heir. + +DESDEMONA These are old fond paradoxes to make fools laugh i' + the alehouse. What miserable praise hast thou for + her that's foul and foolish? + +IAGO There's none so foul and foolish thereunto, + But does foul pranks which fair and wise ones do. + +DESDEMONA O heavy ignorance! thou praisest the worst best. + But what praise couldst thou bestow on a deserving + woman indeed, one that, in the authority of her + merit, did justly put on the vouch of very malice itself? + +IAGO She that was ever fair and never proud, + Had tongue at will and yet was never loud, + Never lack'd gold and yet went never gay, + Fled from her wish and yet said 'Now I may,' + She that being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, + Bade her wrong stay and her displeasure fly, + She that in wisdom never was so frail + To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; + She that could think and ne'er disclose her mind, + See suitors following and not look behind, + She was a wight, if ever such wight were,-- + +DESDEMONA To do what? + +IAGO To suckle fools and chronicle small beer. + +DESDEMONA O most lame and impotent conclusion! Do not learn + of him, Emilia, though he be thy husband. How say + you, Cassio? is he not a most profane and liberal + counsellor? + +CASSIO He speaks home, madam: You may relish him more in + the soldier than in the scholar. + +IAGO [Aside] He takes her by the palm: ay, well said, + whisper: with as little a web as this will I + ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon + her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship. + You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as + these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had + been better you had not kissed your three fingers so + oft, which now again you are most apt to play the + sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent + courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers + to your lips? would they were clyster-pipes for your sake! + + [Trumpet within] + + The Moor! I know his trumpet. + +CASSIO 'Tis truly so. + +DESDEMONA Let's meet him and receive him. + +CASSIO Lo, where he comes! + + [Enter OTHELLO and Attendants] + +OTHELLO O my fair warrior! + +DESDEMONA My dear Othello! + +OTHELLO It gives me wonder great as my content + To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! + If after every tempest come such calms, + May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! + And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas + Olympus-high and duck again as low + As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, + 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, + My soul hath her content so absolute + That not another comfort like to this + Succeeds in unknown fate. + +DESDEMONA The heavens forbid + But that our loves and comforts should increase, + Even as our days do grow! + +OTHELLO Amen to that, sweet powers! + I cannot speak enough of this content; + It stops me here; it is too much of joy: + And this, and this, the greatest discords be + + [Kissing her] + + That e'er our hearts shall make! + +IAGO [Aside] O, you are well tuned now! + But I'll set down the pegs that make this music, + As honest as I am. + +OTHELLO Come, let us to the castle. + News, friends; our wars are done, the Turks + are drown'd. + How does my old acquaintance of this isle? + Honey, you shall be well desired in Cyprus; + I have found great love amongst them. O my sweet, + I prattle out of fashion, and I dote + In mine own comforts. I prithee, good Iago, + Go to the bay and disembark my coffers: + Bring thou the master to the citadel; + He is a good one, and his worthiness + Does challenge much respect. Come, Desdemona, + Once more, well met at Cyprus. + + [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] + +IAGO Do thou meet me presently at the harbour. Come + hither. If thou be'st valiant,-- as, they say, base + men being in love have then a nobility in their + natures more than is native to them--list me. The + lieutenant tonight watches on the court of + guard:--first, I must tell thee this--Desdemona is + directly in love with him. + + +RODERIGO With him! why, 'tis not possible. + +IAGO Lay thy finger thus, and let thy soul be instructed. + Mark me with what violence she first loved the Moor, + but for bragging and telling her fantastical lies: + and will she love him still for prating? let not + thy discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed; + and what delight shall she have to look on the + devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of + sport, there should be, again to inflame it and to + give satiety a fresh appetite, loveliness in favour, + sympathy in years, manners and beauties; all which + the Moor is defective in: now, for want of these + required conveniences, her delicate tenderness will + find itself abused, begin to heave the gorge, + disrelish and abhor the Moor; very nature will + instruct her in it and compel her to some second + choice. Now, sir, this granted,--as it is a most + pregnant and unforced position--who stands so + eminent in the degree of this fortune as Cassio + does? a knave very voluble; no further + conscionable than in putting on the mere form of + civil and humane seeming, for the better compassing + of his salt and most hidden loose affection? why, + none; why, none: a slipper and subtle knave, a + finder of occasions, that has an eye can stamp and + counterfeit advantages, though true advantage never + present itself; a devilish knave. Besides, the + knave is handsome, young, and hath all those + requisites in him that folly and green minds look + after: a pestilent complete knave; and the woman + hath found him already. + +RODERIGO I cannot believe that in her; she's full of + most blessed condition. + +IAGO Blessed fig's-end! the wine she drinks is made of + grapes: if she had been blessed, she would never + have loved the Moor. Blessed pudding! Didst thou + not see her paddle with the palm of his hand? didst + not mark that? + +RODERIGO Yes, that I did; but that was but courtesy. + +IAGO Lechery, by this hand; an index and obscure prologue + to the history of lust and foul thoughts. They met + so near with their lips that their breaths embraced + together. Villanous thoughts, Roderigo! when these + mutualities so marshal the way, hard at hand comes + the master and main exercise, the incorporate + conclusion, Pish! But, sir, be you ruled by me: I + have brought you from Venice. Watch you to-night; + for the command, I'll lay't upon you. Cassio knows + you not. I'll not be far from you: do you find + some occasion to anger Cassio, either by speaking + too loud, or tainting his discipline; or from what + other course you please, which the time shall more + favourably minister. + +RODERIGO Well. + +IAGO Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler, and haply + may strike at you: provoke him, that he may; for + even out of that will I cause these of Cyprus to + mutiny; whose qualification shall come into no true + taste again but by the displanting of Cassio. So + shall you have a shorter journey to your desires by + the means I shall then have to prefer them; and the + impediment most profitably removed, without the + which there were no expectation of our prosperity. + +RODERIGO I will do this, if I can bring it to any + opportunity. + +IAGO I warrant thee. Meet me by and by at the citadel: + I must fetch his necessaries ashore. Farewell. + +RODERIGO Adieu. + + [Exit] + +IAGO That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it; + That she loves him, 'tis apt and of great credit: + The Moor, howbeit that I endure him not, + Is of a constant, loving, noble nature, + And I dare think he'll prove to Desdemona + A most dear husband. Now, I do love her too; + Not out of absolute lust, though peradventure + I stand accountant for as great a sin, + But partly led to diet my revenge, + For that I do suspect the lusty Moor + Hath leap'd into my seat; the thought whereof + Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards; + And nothing can or shall content my soul + Till I am even'd with him, wife for wife, + Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor + At least into a jealousy so strong + That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do, + If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash + For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, + I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip, + Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garb-- + For I fear Cassio with my night-cap too-- + Make the Moor thank me, love me and reward me. + For making him egregiously an ass + And practising upon his peace and quiet + Even to madness. 'Tis here, but yet confused: + Knavery's plain face is never seen tin used. + + [Exit] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A street. + + + [Enter a Herald with a proclamation; People + following] + +Herald It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and valiant + general, that, upon certain tidings now arrived, + importing the mere perdition of the Turkish fleet, + every man put himself into triumph; some to dance, + some to make bonfires, each man to what sport and + revels his addiction leads him: for, besides these + beneficial news, it is the celebration of his + nuptial. So much was his pleasure should be + proclaimed. All offices are open, and there is full + liberty of feasting from this present hour of five + till the bell have told eleven. Heaven bless the + isle of Cyprus and our noble general Othello! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A hall in the castle. + + + [Enter OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and Attendants] + +OTHELLO Good Michael, look you to the guard to-night: + Let's teach ourselves that honourable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + +CASSIO Iago hath direction what to do; + But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye + Will I look to't. + +OTHELLO Iago is most honest. + Michael, good night: to-morrow with your earliest + Let me have speech with you. + + [To DESDEMONA] + + Come, my dear love, + The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue; + That profit's yet to come 'tween me and you. + Good night. + + [Exeunt OTHELLO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] + + [Enter IAGO] + +CASSIO Welcome, Iago; we must to the watch. + +IAGO Not this hour, lieutenant; 'tis not yet ten o' the + clock. Our general cast us thus early for the love + of his Desdemona; who let us not therefore blame: + he hath not yet made wanton the night with her; and + she is sport for Jove. + +CASSIO She's a most exquisite lady. + +IAGO And, I'll warrant her, fun of game. + +CASSIO Indeed, she's a most fresh and delicate creature. + +IAGO What an eye she has! methinks it sounds a parley of + provocation. + +CASSIO An inviting eye; and yet methinks right modest. + +IAGO And when she speaks, is it not an alarum to love? + +CASSIO She is indeed perfection. + +IAGO Well, happiness to their sheets! Come, lieutenant, I + have a stoup of wine; and here without are a brace + of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to + the health of black Othello. + +CASSIO Not to-night, good Iago: I have very poor and + unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish + courtesy would invent some other custom of + entertainment. + +IAGO O, they are our friends; but one cup: I'll drink for + you. + +CASSIO I have drunk but one cup to-night, and that was + craftily qualified too, and, behold, what innovation + it makes here: I am unfortunate in the infirmity, + and dare not task my weakness with any more. + +IAGO What, man! 'tis a night of revels: the gallants + desire it. + +CASSIO Where are they? + +IAGO Here at the door; I pray you, call them in. + +CASSIO I'll do't; but it dislikes me. + + [Exit] + +IAGO If I can fasten but one cup upon him, + With that which he hath drunk to-night already, + He'll be as full of quarrel and offence + As my young mistress' dog. Now, my sick fool Roderigo, + Whom love hath turn'd almost the wrong side out, + To Desdemona hath to-night caroused + Potations pottle-deep; and he's to watch: + Three lads of Cyprus, noble swelling spirits, + That hold their honours in a wary distance, + The very elements of this warlike isle, + Have I to-night fluster'd with flowing cups, + And they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock of drunkards, + Am I to put our Cassio in some action + That may offend the isle.--But here they come: + If consequence do but approve my dream, + My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream. + + [Re-enter CASSIO; with him MONTANO and Gentlemen; + servants following with wine] + +CASSIO 'Fore God, they have given me a rouse already. + +MONTANO Good faith, a little one; not past a pint, as I am + a soldier. + +IAGO Some wine, ho! + + [Sings] + + And let me the canakin clink, clink; + And let me the canakin clink + A soldier's a man; + A life's but a span; + Why, then, let a soldier drink. + Some wine, boys! + +CASSIO 'Fore God, an excellent song. + +IAGO I learned it in England, where, indeed, they are + most potent in potting: your Dane, your German, and + your swag-bellied Hollander--Drink, ho!--are nothing + to your English. + +CASSIO Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? + +IAGO Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead + drunk; he sweats not to overthrow your Almain; he + gives your Hollander a vomit, ere the next pottle + can be filled. + +CASSIO To the health of our general! + +MONTANO I am for it, lieutenant; and I'll do you justice. + +IAGO O sweet England! + King Stephen was a worthy peer, + His breeches cost him but a crown; + He held them sixpence all too dear, + With that he call'd the tailor lown. + He was a wight of high renown, + And thou art but of low degree: + 'Tis pride that pulls the country down; + Then take thine auld cloak about thee. + Some wine, ho! + +CASSIO Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. + +IAGO Will you hear't again? + +CASSIO No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place that + does those things. Well, God's above all; and there + be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved. + +IAGO It's true, good lieutenant. + +CASSIO For mine own part,--no offence to the general, nor + any man of quality,--I hope to be saved. + +IAGO And so do I too, lieutenant. + +CASSIO Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; the + lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. Let's + have no more of this; let's to our affairs.--Forgive + us our sins!--Gentlemen, let's look to our business. + Do not think, gentlemen. I am drunk: this is my + ancient; this is my right hand, and this is my left: + I am not drunk now; I can stand well enough, and + speak well enough. + +All Excellent well. + +CASSIO Why, very well then; you must not think then that I am drunk. + + [Exit] + +MONTANO To the platform, masters; come, let's set the watch. + +IAGO You see this fellow that is gone before; + He is a soldier fit to stand by Caesar + And give direction: and do but see his vice; + 'Tis to his virtue a just equinox, + The one as long as the other: 'tis pity of him. + I fear the trust Othello puts him in. + On some odd time of his infirmity, + Will shake this island. + +MONTANO But is he often thus? + +IAGO 'Tis evermore the prologue to his sleep: + He'll watch the horologe a double set, + If drink rock not his cradle. + +MONTANO It were well + The general were put in mind of it. + Perhaps he sees it not; or his good nature + Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, + And looks not on his evils: is not this true? + + [Enter RODERIGO] + +IAGO [Aside to him] How now, Roderigo! + I pray you, after the lieutenant; go. + + [Exit RODERIGO] + +MONTANO And 'tis great pity that the noble Moor + Should hazard such a place as his own second + With one of an ingraft infirmity: + It were an honest action to say + So to the Moor. + +IAGO Not I, for this fair island: + I do love Cassio well; and would do much + To cure him of this evil--But, hark! what noise? + + [Cry within: 'Help! help!'] + + [Re-enter CASSIO, driving in RODERIGO] + +CASSIO You rogue! you rascal! + +MONTANO What's the matter, lieutenant? + +CASSIO A knave teach me my duty! + I'll beat the knave into a twiggen bottle. + +RODERIGO Beat me! + +CASSIO Dost thou prate, rogue? + + [Striking RODERIGO] + +MONTANO Nay, good lieutenant; + + [Staying him] + + I pray you, sir, hold your hand. + +CASSIO Let me go, sir, + Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. + +MONTANO Come, come, + you're drunk. + +CASSIO Drunk! + + [They fight] + +IAGO [Aside to RODERIGO] Away, I say; go out, and cry a mutiny. + + [Exit RODERIGO] + + Nay, good lieutenant,--alas, gentlemen;-- + Help, ho!--Lieutenant,--sir,--Montano,--sir; + Help, masters!--Here's a goodly watch indeed! + + [Bell rings] + + Who's that which rings the bell?--Diablo, ho! + The town will rise: God's will, lieutenant, hold! + You will be shamed for ever. + + [Re-enter OTHELLO and Attendants] + +OTHELLO What is the matter here? + +MONTANO 'Zounds, I bleed still; I am hurt to the death. + + [Faints] + +OTHELLO Hold, for your lives! + +IAGO Hold, ho! Lieutenant,--sir--Montano,--gentlemen,-- + Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? + Hold! the general speaks to you; hold, hold, for shame! + +OTHELLO Why, how now, ho! from whence ariseth this? + Are we turn'd Turks, and to ourselves do that + Which heaven hath forbid the Ottomites? + For Christian shame, put by this barbarous brawl: + He that stirs next to carve for his own rage + Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. + Silence that dreadful bell: it frights the isle + From her propriety. What is the matter, masters? + Honest Iago, that look'st dead with grieving, + Speak, who began this? on thy love, I charge thee. + +IAGO I do not know: friends all but now, even now, + In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom + Devesting them for bed; and then, but now-- + As if some planet had unwitted men-- + Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast, + In opposition bloody. I cannot speak + Any beginning to this peevish odds; + And would in action glorious I had lost + Those legs that brought me to a part of it! + +OTHELLO How comes it, Michael, you are thus forgot? + +CASSIO I pray you, pardon me; I cannot speak. + +OTHELLO Worthy Montano, you were wont be civil; + The gravity and stillness of your youth + The world hath noted, and your name is great + In mouths of wisest censure: what's the matter, + That you unlace your reputation thus + And spend your rich opinion for the name + Of a night-brawler? give me answer to it. + +MONTANO Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger: + Your officer, Iago, can inform you,-- + While I spare speech, which something now + offends me,-- + Of all that I do know: nor know I aught + By me that's said or done amiss this night; + Unless self-charity be sometimes a vice, + And to defend ourselves it be a sin + When violence assails us. + +OTHELLO Now, by heaven, + My blood begins my safer guides to rule; + And passion, having my best judgment collied, + Assays to lead the way: if I once stir, + Or do but lift this arm, the best of you + Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know + How this foul rout began, who set it on; + And he that is approved in this offence, + Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a birth, + Shall lose me. What! in a town of war, + Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear, + To manage private and domestic quarrel, + In night, and on the court and guard of safety! + 'Tis monstrous. Iago, who began't? + +MONTANO If partially affined, or leagued in office, + Thou dost deliver more or less than truth, + Thou art no soldier. + +IAGO Touch me not so near: + I had rather have this tongue cut from my mouth + Than it should do offence to Michael Cassio; + Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth + Shall nothing wrong him. Thus it is, general. + Montano and myself being in speech, + There comes a fellow crying out for help: + And Cassio following him with determined sword, + To execute upon him. Sir, this gentleman + Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause: + Myself the crying fellow did pursue, + Lest by his clamour--as it so fell out-- + The town might fall in fright: he, swift of foot, + Outran my purpose; and I return'd the rather + For that I heard the clink and fall of swords, + And Cassio high in oath; which till to-night + I ne'er might say before. When I came back-- + For this was brief--I found them close together, + At blow and thrust; even as again they were + When you yourself did part them. + More of this matter cannot I report: + But men are men; the best sometimes forget: + Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, + As men in rage strike those that wish them best, + Yet surely Cassio, I believe, received + From him that fled some strange indignity, + Which patience could not pass. + +OTHELLO I know, Iago, + Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter, + Making it light to Cassio. Cassio, I love thee + But never more be officer of mine. + + [Re-enter DESDEMONA, attended] + + Look, if my gentle love be not raised up! + I'll make thee an example. + +DESDEMONA What's the matter? + +OTHELLO All's well now, sweeting; come away to bed. + Sir, for your hurts, myself will be your surgeon: + Lead him off. + + [To MONTANO, who is led off] + + Iago, look with care about the town, + And silence those whom this vile brawl distracted. + Come, Desdemona: 'tis the soldiers' life + To have their balmy slumbers waked with strife. + + [Exeunt all but IAGO and CASSIO] + +IAGO What, are you hurt, lieutenant? + +CASSIO Ay, past all surgery. + +IAGO Marry, heaven forbid! + +CASSIO Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost + my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of + myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, + Iago, my reputation! + +IAGO As I am an honest man, I thought you had received + some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than + in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false + imposition: oft got without merit, and lost without + deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, + unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! + there are ways to recover the general again: you + are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in + policy than in malice, even so as one would beat his + offenceless dog to affright an imperious lion: sue + to him again, and he's yours. + +CASSIO I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so + good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so + indiscreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? + and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse + fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible + spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee devil! + +IAGO What was he that you followed with your sword? What + had he done to you? + +CASSIO I know not. + +IAGO Is't possible? + +CASSIO I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; + a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men + should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away + their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance + revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts! + +IAGO Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus + recovered? + +CASSIO It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place + to the devil wrath; one unperfectness shows me + another, to make me frankly despise myself. + +IAGO Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, + the place, and the condition of this country + stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen; + but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. + +CASSIO I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me + I am a drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, + such an answer would stop them all. To be now a + sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a + beast! O strange! Every inordinate cup is + unblessed and the ingredient is a devil. + +IAGO Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used: exclaim no more against it. + And, good lieutenant, I think you think I love you. + +CASSIO I have well approved it, sir. I drunk! + +IAGO You or any man living may be drunk! at a time, man. + I'll tell you what you shall do. Our general's wife + is now the general: may say so in this respect, for + that he hath devoted and given up himself to the + contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and + graces: confess yourself freely to her; importune + her help to put you in your place again: she is of + so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, + she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more + than she is requested: this broken joint between + you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and, my + fortunes against any lay worth naming, this + crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. + +CASSIO You advise me well. + +IAGO I protest, in the sincerity of love and honest kindness. + +CASSIO I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will + beseech the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: + I am desperate of my fortunes if they cheque me here. + +IAGO You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I + must to the watch. + +CASSIO: Good night, honest Iago. + + [Exit] + +IAGO And what's he then that says I play the villain? + When this advice is free I give and honest, + Probal to thinking and indeed the course + To win the Moor again? For 'tis most easy + The inclining Desdemona to subdue + In any honest suit: she's framed as fruitful + As the free elements. And then for her + To win the Moor--were't to renounce his baptism, + All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, + His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, + That she may make, unmake, do what she list, + Even as her appetite shall play the god + With his weak function. How am I then a villain + To counsel Cassio to this parallel course, + Directly to his good? Divinity of hell! + When devils will the blackest sins put on, + They do suggest at first with heavenly shows, + As I do now: for whiles this honest fool + Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes + And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, + I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, + That she repeals him for her body's lust; + And by how much she strives to do him good, + She shall undo her credit with the Moor. + So will I turn her virtue into pitch, + And out of her own goodness make the net + That shall enmesh them all. + + [Re-enter RODERIGO] + + How now, Roderigo! + +RODERIGO I do follow here in the chase, not like a hound that + hunts, but one that fills up the cry. My money is + almost spent; I have been to-night exceedingly well + cudgelled; and I think the issue will be, I shall + have so much experience for my pains, and so, with + no money at all and a little more wit, return again to Venice. + +IAGO How poor are they that have not patience! + What wound did ever heal but by degrees? + Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft; + And wit depends on dilatory time. + Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee. + And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio: + Though other things grow fair against the sun, + Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe: + Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning; + Pleasure and action make the hours seem short. + Retire thee; go where thou art billeted: + Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter: + Nay, get thee gone. + + [Exit RODERIGO] + + Two things are to be done: + My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress; + I'll set her on; + Myself the while to draw the Moor apart, + And bring him jump when he may Cassio find + Soliciting his wife: ay, that's the way + Dull not device by coldness and delay. + + [Exit] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Before the castle. + + + [Enter CASSIO and some Musicians] + +CASSIO Masters, play here; I will content your pains; + Something that's brief; and bid 'Good morrow, general.' + + [Music] + + [Enter Clown] + +Clown Why masters, have your instruments been in Naples, + that they speak i' the nose thus? + +First Musician How, sir, how! + +Clown Are these, I pray you, wind-instruments? + +First Musician Ay, marry, are they, sir. + +Clown O, thereby hangs a tail. + +First Musician Whereby hangs a tale, sir? + +Clown Marry. sir, by many a wind-instrument that I know. + But, masters, here's money for you: and the general + so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's + sake, to make no more noise with it. + +First Musician Well, sir, we will not. + +Clown If you have any music that may not be heard, to't + again: but, as they say to hear music the general + does not greatly care. + +First Musician We have none such, sir. + +Clown Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: + go; vanish into air; away! + + [Exeunt Musicians] + +CASSIO Dost thou hear, my honest friend? + +Clown No, I hear not your honest friend; I hear you. + +CASSIO Prithee, keep up thy quillets. There's a poor piece + of gold for thee: if the gentlewoman that attends + the general's wife be stirring, tell her there's + one Cassio entreats her a little favour of speech: + wilt thou do this? + +Clown She is stirring, sir: if she will stir hither, I + shall seem to notify unto her. + +CASSIO Do, good my friend. + + [Exit Clown] + + [Enter IAGO] + + In happy time, Iago. + +IAGO You have not been a-bed, then? + +CASSIO Why, no; the day had broke + Before we parted. I have made bold, Iago, + To send in to your wife: my suit to her + Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona + Procure me some access. + +IAGO I'll send her to you presently; + And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor + Out of the way, that your converse and business + May be more free. + +CASSIO I humbly thank you for't. + + [Exit IAGO] + + I never knew + A Florentine more kind and honest. + + [Enter EMILIA] + +EMILIA Good morrow, good Lieutenant: I am sorry + For your displeasure; but all will sure be well. + The general and his wife are talking of it; + And she speaks for you stoutly: the Moor replies, + That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus, + And great affinity, and that in wholesome wisdom + He might not but refuse you; but he protests he loves you + And needs no other suitor but his likings + To take the safest occasion by the front + To bring you in again. + +CASSIO Yet, I beseech you, + If you think fit, or that it may be done, + Give me advantage of some brief discourse + With Desdemona alone. + +EMILIA Pray you, come in; + I will bestow you where you shall have time + To speak your bosom freely. + +CASSIO I am much bound to you. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A room in the castle. + + + [Enter OTHELLO, IAGO, and Gentlemen] + +OTHELLO These letters give, Iago, to the pilot; + And by him do my duties to the senate: + That done, I will be walking on the works; + Repair there to me. + +IAGO Well, my good lord, I'll do't. + +OTHELLO This fortification, gentlemen, shall we see't? + +Gentleman We'll wait upon your lordship. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III The garden of the castle. + + + [Enter DESDEMONA, CASSIO, and EMILIA] + +DESDEMONA Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do + All my abilities in thy behalf. + +EMILIA Good madam, do: I warrant it grieves my husband, + As if the case were his. + +DESDEMONA O, that's an honest fellow. Do not doubt, Cassio, + But I will have my lord and you again + As friendly as you were. + +CASSIO Bounteous madam, + Whatever shall become of Michael Cassio, + He's never any thing but your true servant. + +DESDEMONA I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord: + You have known him long; and be you well assured + He shall in strangeness stand no further off + Than in a polite distance. + +CASSIO Ay, but, lady, + That policy may either last so long, + Or feed upon such nice and waterish diet, + Or breed itself so out of circumstance, + That, I being absent and my place supplied, + My general will forget my love and service. + +DESDEMONA Do not doubt that; before Emilia here + I give thee warrant of thy place: assure thee, + If I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it + To the last article: my lord shall never rest; + I'll watch him tame and talk him out of patience; + His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; + I'll intermingle every thing he does + With Cassio's suit: therefore be merry, Cassio; + For thy solicitor shall rather die + Than give thy cause away. + +EMILIA Madam, here comes my lord. + +CASSIO Madam, I'll take my leave. + +DESDEMONA Why, stay, and hear me speak. + +CASSIO Madam, not now: I am very ill at ease, + Unfit for mine own purposes. + +DESDEMONA Well, do your discretion. + + [Exit CASSIO] + + [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO] + +IAGO Ha! I like not that. + +OTHELLO What dost thou say? + +IAGO Nothing, my lord: or if--I know not what. + +OTHELLO Was not that Cassio parted from my wife? + +IAGO Cassio, my lord! No, sure, I cannot think it, + That he would steal away so guilty-like, + Seeing you coming. + +OTHELLO I do believe 'twas he. + +DESDEMONA How now, my lord! + I have been talking with a suitor here, + A man that languishes in your displeasure. + +OTHELLO Who is't you mean? + +DESDEMONA Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord, + If I have any grace or power to move you, + His present reconciliation take; + For if he be not one that truly loves you, + That errs in ignorance and not in cunning, + I have no judgment in an honest face: + I prithee, call him back. + +OTHELLO Went he hence now? + +DESDEMONA Ay, sooth; so humbled + That he hath left part of his grief with me, + To suffer with him. Good love, call him back. + +OTHELLO Not now, sweet Desdemona; some other time. + +DESDEMONA But shall't be shortly? + +OTHELLO The sooner, sweet, for you. + +DESDEMONA Shall't be to-night at supper? + +OTHELLO No, not to-night. + +DESDEMONA To-morrow dinner, then? + +OTHELLO I shall not dine at home; + I meet the captains at the citadel. + +DESDEMONA Why, then, to-morrow night; or Tuesday morn; + On Tuesday noon, or night; on Wednesday morn: + I prithee, name the time, but let it not + Exceed three days: in faith, he's penitent; + And yet his trespass, in our common reason-- + Save that, they say, the wars must make examples + Out of their best--is not almost a fault + To incur a private cheque. When shall he come? + Tell me, Othello: I wonder in my soul, + What you would ask me, that I should deny, + Or stand so mammering on. What! Michael Cassio, + That came a-wooing with you, and so many a time, + When I have spoke of you dispraisingly, + Hath ta'en your part; to have so much to do + To bring him in! Trust me, I could do much,-- + +OTHELLO Prithee, no more: let him come when he will; + I will deny thee nothing. + +DESDEMONA Why, this is not a boon; + 'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves, + Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you warm, + Or sue to you to do a peculiar profit + To your own person: nay, when I have a suit + Wherein I mean to touch your love indeed, + It shall be full of poise and difficult weight + And fearful to be granted. + +OTHELLO I will deny thee nothing: + Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this, + To leave me but a little to myself. + +DESDEMONA Shall I deny you? no: farewell, my lord. + +OTHELLO Farewell, my Desdemona: I'll come to thee straight. + +DESDEMONA Emilia, come. Be as your fancies teach you; + Whate'er you be, I am obedient. + + [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] + +OTHELLO Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, + But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, + Chaos is come again. + +IAGO My noble lord-- + +OTHELLO What dost thou say, Iago? + +IAGO Did Michael Cassio, when you woo'd my lady, + Know of your love? + +OTHELLO He did, from first to last: why dost thou ask? + +IAGO But for a satisfaction of my thought; + No further harm. + +OTHELLO Why of thy thought, Iago? + +IAGO I did not think he had been acquainted with her. + +OTHELLO O, yes; and went between us very oft. + +IAGO Indeed! + +OTHELLO Indeed! ay, indeed: discern'st thou aught in that? + Is he not honest? + +IAGO Honest, my lord! + +OTHELLO Honest! ay, honest. + +IAGO My lord, for aught I know. + +OTHELLO What dost thou think? + +IAGO Think, my lord! + +OTHELLO Think, my lord! + By heaven, he echoes me, + As if there were some monster in his thought + Too hideous to be shown. Thou dost mean something: + I heard thee say even now, thou likedst not that, + When Cassio left my wife: what didst not like? + And when I told thee he was of my counsel + In my whole course of wooing, thou criedst 'Indeed!' + And didst contract and purse thy brow together, + As if thou then hadst shut up in thy brain + Some horrible conceit: if thou dost love me, + Show me thy thought. + +IAGO My lord, you know I love you. + +OTHELLO I think thou dost; + And, for I know thou'rt full of love and honesty, + And weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath, + Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: + For such things in a false disloyal knave + Are tricks of custom, but in a man that's just + They are close delations, working from the heart + That passion cannot rule. + +IAGO For Michael Cassio, + I dare be sworn I think that he is honest. + +OTHELLO I think so too. + +IAGO Men should be what they seem; + Or those that be not, would they might seem none! + +OTHELLO Certain, men should be what they seem. + +IAGO Why, then, I think Cassio's an honest man. + +OTHELLO Nay, yet there's more in this: + I prithee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, + As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts + The worst of words. + +IAGO Good my lord, pardon me: + Though I am bound to every act of duty, + I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. + Utter my thoughts? Why, say they are vile and false; + As where's that palace whereinto foul things + Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so pure, + But some uncleanly apprehensions + Keep leets and law-days and in session sit + With meditations lawful? + +OTHELLO Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, + If thou but think'st him wrong'd and makest his ear + A stranger to thy thoughts. + +IAGO I do beseech you-- + Though I perchance am vicious in my guess, + As, I confess, it is my nature's plague + To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy + Shapes faults that are not--that your wisdom yet, + From one that so imperfectly conceits, + Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble + Out of his scattering and unsure observance. + It were not for your quiet nor your good, + Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom, + To let you know my thoughts. + +OTHELLO What dost thou mean? + +IAGO Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him + And makes me poor indeed. + +OTHELLO By heaven, I'll know thy thoughts. + +IAGO You cannot, if my heart were in your hand; + Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. + +OTHELLO Ha! + +IAGO O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; + It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock + The meat it feeds on; that cuckold lives in bliss + Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger; + But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er + Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves! + +OTHELLO O misery! + +IAGO Poor and content is rich and rich enough, + But riches fineless is as poor as winter + To him that ever fears he shall be poor. + Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend + From jealousy! + +OTHELLO Why, why is this? + Think'st thou I'ld make a lie of jealousy, + To follow still the changes of the moon + With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt + Is once to be resolved: exchange me for a goat, + When I shall turn the business of my soul + To such exsufflicate and blown surmises, + Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous + To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, + Is free of speech, sings, plays and dances well; + Where virtue is, these are more virtuous: + Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw + The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt; + For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago; + I'll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove; + And on the proof, there is no more but this,-- + Away at once with love or jealousy! + +IAGO I am glad of it; for now I shall have reason + To show the love and duty that I bear you + With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound, + Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof. + Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio; + Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure: + I would not have your free and noble nature, + Out of self-bounty, be abused; look to't: + I know our country disposition well; + In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks + They dare not show their husbands; their best conscience + Is not to leave't undone, but keep't unknown. + +OTHELLO Dost thou say so? + +IAGO She did deceive her father, marrying you; + And when she seem'd to shake and fear your looks, + She loved them most. + +OTHELLO And so she did. + +IAGO Why, go to then; + She that, so young, could give out such a seeming, + To seal her father's eyes up close as oak- + He thought 'twas witchcraft--but I am much to blame; + I humbly do beseech you of your pardon + For too much loving you. + +OTHELLO I am bound to thee for ever. + +IAGO I see this hath a little dash'd your spirits. + +OTHELLO Not a jot, not a jot. + +IAGO I' faith, I fear it has. + I hope you will consider what is spoke + Comes from my love. But I do see you're moved: + I am to pray you not to strain my speech + To grosser issues nor to larger reach + Than to suspicion. + +OTHELLO I will not. + +IAGO Should you do so, my lord, + My speech should fall into such vile success + As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio's my worthy friend-- + My lord, I see you're moved. + +OTHELLO No, not much moved: + I do not think but Desdemona's honest. + +IAGO Long live she so! and long live you to think so! + +OTHELLO And yet, how nature erring from itself,-- + +IAGO Ay, there's the point: as--to be bold with you-- + Not to affect many proposed matches + Of her own clime, complexion, and degree, + Whereto we see in all things nature tends-- + Foh! one may smell in such a will most rank, + Foul disproportion thoughts unnatural. + But pardon me; I do not in position + Distinctly speak of her; though I may fear + Her will, recoiling to her better judgment, + May fall to match you with her country forms + And happily repent. + +OTHELLO Farewell, farewell: + If more thou dost perceive, let me know more; + Set on thy wife to observe: leave me, Iago: + +IAGO [Going] My lord, I take my leave. + +OTHELLO Why did I marry? This honest creature doubtless + Sees and knows more, much more, than he unfolds. + +IAGO [Returning] My lord, I would I might entreat + your honour + To scan this thing no further; leave it to time: + Though it be fit that Cassio have his place, + For sure, he fills it up with great ability, + Yet, if you please to hold him off awhile, + You shall by that perceive him and his means: + Note, if your lady strain his entertainment + With any strong or vehement importunity; + Much will be seen in that. In the mean time, + Let me be thought too busy in my fears-- + As worthy cause I have to fear I am-- + And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. + +OTHELLO Fear not my government. + +IAGO I once more take my leave. + + [Exit] + +OTHELLO This fellow's of exceeding honesty, + And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit, + Of human dealings. If I do prove her haggard, + Though that her jesses were my dear heartstrings, + I'ld whistle her off and let her down the wind, + To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black + And have not those soft parts of conversation + That chamberers have, or for I am declined + Into the vale of years,--yet that's not much-- + She's gone. I am abused; and my relief + Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, + That we can call these delicate creatures ours, + And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, + And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, + Than keep a corner in the thing I love + For others' uses. Yet, 'tis the plague of great ones; + Prerogatived are they less than the base; + 'Tis destiny unshunnable, like death: + Even then this forked plague is fated to us + When we do quicken. Desdemona comes: + + [Re-enter DESDEMONA and EMILIA] + + If she be false, O, then heaven mocks itself! + I'll not believe't. + +DESDEMONA How now, my dear Othello! + Your dinner, and the generous islanders + By you invited, do attend your presence. + +OTHELLO I am to blame. + +DESDEMONA Why do you speak so faintly? + Are you not well? + +OTHELLO I have a pain upon my forehead here. + +DESDEMONA 'Faith, that's with watching; 'twill away again: + Let me but bind it hard, within this hour + It will be well. + +OTHELLO Your napkin is too little: + + [He puts the handkerchief from him; and it drops] + + Let it alone. Come, I'll go in with you. + +DESDEMONA I am very sorry that you are not well. + + [Exeunt OTHELLO and DESDEMONA] + +EMILIA I am glad I have found this napkin: + This was her first remembrance from the Moor: + My wayward husband hath a hundred times + Woo'd me to steal it; but she so loves the token, + For he conjured her she should ever keep it, + That she reserves it evermore about her + To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta'en out, + And give't Iago: what he will do with it + Heaven knows, not I; + I nothing but to please his fantasy. + + [Re-enter Iago] + +IAGO How now! what do you here alone? + +EMILIA Do not you chide; I have a thing for you. + +IAGO A thing for me? it is a common thing-- + +EMILIA Ha! + +IAGO To have a foolish wife. + +EMILIA O, is that all? What will you give me now + For the same handkerchief? + +IAGO What handkerchief? + +EMILIA What handkerchief? + Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona; + That which so often you did bid me steal. + +IAGO Hast stol'n it from her? + +EMILIA No, 'faith; she let it drop by negligence. + And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't up. + Look, here it is. + +IAGO A good wench; give it me. + +EMILIA What will you do with 't, that you have been + so earnest + To have me filch it? + +IAGO [Snatching it] Why, what's that to you? + +EMILIA If it be not for some purpose of import, + Give't me again: poor lady, she'll run mad + When she shall lack it. + +IAGO Be not acknown on 't; I have use for it. + Go, leave me. + + [Exit EMILIA] + + I will in Cassio's lodging lose this napkin, + And let him find it. Trifles light as air + Are to the jealous confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ: this may do something. + The Moor already changes with my poison: + Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons. + Which at the first are scarce found to distaste, + But with a little act upon the blood. + Burn like the mines of Sulphur. I did say so: + Look, where he comes! + + [Re-enter OTHELLO] + + Not poppy, nor mandragora, + Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, + Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep + Which thou owedst yesterday. + +OTHELLO Ha! ha! false to me? + +IAGO Why, how now, general! no more of that. + +OTHELLO Avaunt! be gone! thou hast set me on the rack: + I swear 'tis better to be much abused + Than but to know't a little. + +IAGO How now, my lord! + +OTHELLO What sense had I of her stol'n hours of lust? + I saw't not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: + I slept the next night well, was free and merry; + I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: + He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stol'n, + Let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all. + +IAGO I am sorry to hear this. + +OTHELLO I had been happy, if the general camp, + Pioners and all, had tasted her sweet body, + So I had nothing known. O, now, for ever + Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! + Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, + That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! + Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, + The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, + The royal banner, and all quality, + Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war! + And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats + The immortal Jove's dead clamours counterfeit, + Farewell! Othello's occupation's gone! + +IAGO Is't possible, my lord? + +OTHELLO Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, + Be sure of it; give me the ocular proof: + Or by the worth of man's eternal soul, + Thou hadst been better have been born a dog + Than answer my waked wrath! + +IAGO Is't come to this? + +OTHELLO Make me to see't; or, at the least, so prove it, + That the probation bear no hinge nor loop + To hang a doubt on; or woe upon thy life! + +IAGO My noble lord,-- + +OTHELLO If thou dost slander her and torture me, + Never pray more; abandon all remorse; + On horror's head horrors accumulate; + Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; + For nothing canst thou to damnation add + Greater than that. + +IAGO O grace! O heaven forgive me! + Are you a man? have you a soul or sense? + God be wi' you; take mine office. O wretched fool. + That livest to make thine honesty a vice! + O monstrous world! Take note, take note, O world, + To be direct and honest is not safe. + I thank you for this profit; and from hence + I'll love no friend, sith love breeds such offence. + +OTHELLO Nay, stay: thou shouldst be honest. + +IAGO I should be wise, for honesty's a fool + And loses that it works for. + +OTHELLO By the world, + I think my wife be honest and think she is not; + I think that thou art just and think thou art not. + I'll have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh + As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black + As mine own face. If there be cords, or knives, + Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, + I'll not endure it. Would I were satisfied! + +IAGO I see, sir, you are eaten up with passion: + I do repent me that I put it to you. + You would be satisfied? + +OTHELLO Would! nay, I will. + +IAGO And may: but, how? how satisfied, my lord? + Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on-- + Behold her topp'd? + +OTHELLO Death and damnation! O! + +IAGO It were a tedious difficulty, I think, + To bring them to that prospect: damn them then, + If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster + More than their own! What then? how then? + What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? + It is impossible you should see this, + Were they as prime as goats, as hot as monkeys, + As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross + As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, + If imputation and strong circumstances, + Which lead directly to the door of truth, + Will give you satisfaction, you may have't. + +OTHELLO Give me a living reason she's disloyal. + +IAGO I do not like the office: + But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far, + Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love, + I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately; + And, being troubled with a raging tooth, + I could not sleep. + There are a kind of men so loose of soul, + That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs: + One of this kind is Cassio: + In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona, + Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;' + And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, + Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard, + As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots + That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg + Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then + Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!' + +OTHELLO O monstrous! monstrous! + +IAGO Nay, this was but his dream. + +OTHELLO But this denoted a foregone conclusion: + 'Tis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a dream. + +IAGO And this may help to thicken other proofs + That do demonstrate thinly. + +OTHELLO I'll tear her all to pieces. + +IAGO Nay, but be wise: yet we see nothing done; + She may be honest yet. Tell me but this, + Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief + Spotted with strawberries in your wife's hand? + +OTHELLO I gave her such a one; 'twas my first gift. + +IAGO I know not that; but such a handkerchief-- + I am sure it was your wife's--did I to-day + See Cassio wipe his beard with. + +OTHELLO If it be that-- + +IAGO If it be that, or any that was hers, + It speaks against her with the other proofs. + +OTHELLO O, that the slave had forty thousand lives! + One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. + Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, Iago; + All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven. + 'Tis gone. + Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! + Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne + To tyrannous hate! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, + For 'tis of aspics' tongues! + +IAGO Yet be content. + +OTHELLO O, blood, blood, blood! + +IAGO Patience, I say; your mind perhaps may change. + +OTHELLO Never, Iago: Like to the Pontic sea, + Whose icy current and compulsive course + Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on + To the Propontic and the Hellespont, + Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, + Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, + Till that a capable and wide revenge + Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, + + [Kneels] + + In the due reverence of a sacred vow + I here engage my words. + +IAGO Do not rise yet. + + [Kneels] + + Witness, you ever-burning lights above, + You elements that clip us round about, + Witness that here Iago doth give up + The execution of his wit, hands, heart, + To wrong'd Othello's service! Let him command, + And to obey shall be in me remorse, + What bloody business ever. + + [They rise] + +OTHELLO I greet thy love, + Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance bounteous, + And will upon the instant put thee to't: + Within these three days let me hear thee say + That Cassio's not alive. + +IAGO My friend is dead; 'tis done at your request: + But let her live. + +OTHELLO Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her! + Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, + To furnish me with some swift means of death + For the fair devil. Now art thou my lieutenant. + +IAGO I am your own for ever. + + [Exeunt] + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV Before the castle. + + + [Enter DESDEMONA, EMILIA, and Clown] + +DESDEMONA Do you know, sirrah, where Lieutenant Cassio lies? + +Clown I dare not say he lies any where. + +DESDEMONA Why, man? + +Clown He's a soldier, and for one to say a soldier lies, + is stabbing. + +DESDEMONA Go to: where lodges he? + +Clown To tell you where he lodges, is to tell you where I lie. + +DESDEMONA Can any thing be made of this? + +Clown I know not where he lodges, and for me to devise a + lodging and say he lies here or he lies there, were + to lie in mine own throat. + +DESDEMONA Can you inquire him out, and be edified by report? + +Clown I will catechise the world for him; that is, make + questions, and by them answer. + +DESDEMONA Seek him, bid him come hither: tell him I have + moved my lord on his behalf, and hope all will be well. + +Clown To do this is within the compass of man's wit: and + therefore I will attempt the doing it. + + [Exit] + +DESDEMONA Where should I lose that handkerchief, Emilia? + +EMILIA I know not, madam. + +DESDEMONA Believe me, I had rather have lost my purse + Full of crusadoes: and, but my noble Moor + Is true of mind and made of no such baseness + As jealous creatures are, it were enough + To put him to ill thinking. + +EMILIA Is he not jealous? + +DESDEMONA Who, he? I think the sun where he was born + Drew all such humours from him. + +EMILIA Look, where he comes. + +DESDEMONA I will not leave him now till Cassio + Be call'd to him. + + [Enter OTHELLO] + + How is't with you, my lord + +OTHELLO Well, my good lady. + + [Aside] + + O, hardness to dissemble!-- + How do you, Desdemona? + +DESDEMONA Well, my good lord. + +OTHELLO Give me your hand: this hand is moist, my lady. + +DESDEMONA It yet hath felt no age nor known no sorrow. + +OTHELLO This argues fruitfulness and liberal heart: + Hot, hot, and moist: this hand of yours requires + A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, + Much castigation, exercise devout; + For here's a young and sweating devil here, + That commonly rebels. 'Tis a good hand, + A frank one. + +DESDEMONA You may, indeed, say so; + For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. + +OTHELLO A liberal hand: the hearts of old gave hands; + But our new heraldry is hands, not hearts. + +DESDEMONA I cannot speak of this. Come now, your promise. + +OTHELLO What promise, chuck? + +DESDEMONA I have sent to bid Cassio come speak with you. + +OTHELLO I have a salt and sorry rheum offends me; + Lend me thy handkerchief. + +DESDEMONA Here, my lord. + +OTHELLO That which I gave you. + +DESDEMONA I have it not about me. + +OTHELLO Not? + +DESDEMONA No, indeed, my lord. + +OTHELLO That is a fault. + + That handkerchief + Did an Egyptian to my mother give; + She was a charmer, and could almost read + The thoughts of people: she told her, while + she kept it, + 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father + Entirely to her love, but if she lost it + Or made gift of it, my father's eye + Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt + After new fancies: she, dying, gave it me; + And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, + To give it her. I did so: and take heed on't; + Make it a darling like your precious eye; + To lose't or give't away were such perdition + As nothing else could match. + +DESDEMONA Is't possible? + +OTHELLO 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it: + A sibyl, that had number'd in the world + The sun to course two hundred compasses, + In her prophetic fury sew'd the work; + The worms were hallow'd that did breed the silk; + And it was dyed in mummy which the skilful + Conserved of maidens' hearts. + +DESDEMONA Indeed! is't true? + +OTHELLO Most veritable; therefore look to't well. + +DESDEMONA Then would to God that I had never seen't! + +OTHELLO Ha! wherefore? + +DESDEMONA Why do you speak so startingly and rash? + +OTHELLO Is't lost? is't gone? speak, is it out + o' the way? + +DESDEMONA Heaven bless us! + +OTHELLO Say you? + +DESDEMONA It is not lost; but what an if it were? + +OTHELLO How! + +DESDEMONA I say, it is not lost. + +OTHELLO Fetch't, let me see't. + +DESDEMONA Why, so I can, sir, but I will not now. + This is a trick to put me from my suit: + Pray you, let Cassio be received again. + +OTHELLO Fetch me the handkerchief: my mind misgives. + +DESDEMONA Come, come; + You'll never meet a more sufficient man. + +OTHELLO The handkerchief! + +DESDEMONA I pray, talk me of Cassio. + +OTHELLO The handkerchief! + +DESDEMONA A man that all his time + Hath founded his good fortunes on your love, + Shared dangers with you,-- + +OTHELLO The handkerchief! + +DESDEMONA In sooth, you are to blame. + +OTHELLO Away! + + [Exit] + +EMILIA Is not this man jealous? + +DESDEMONA I ne'er saw this before. + Sure, there's some wonder in this handkerchief: + I am most unhappy in the loss of it. + +EMILIA 'Tis not a year or two shows us a man: + They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; + To eat us hungerly, and when they are full, + They belch us. Look you, Cassio and my husband! + + [Enter CASSIO and IAGO] + +IAGO There is no other way; 'tis she must do't: + And, lo, the happiness! go, and importune her. + +DESDEMONA How now, good Cassio! what's the news with you? + +CASSIO Madam, my former suit: I do beseech you + That by your virtuous means I may again + Exist, and be a member of his love + Whom I with all the office of my heart + Entirely honour: I would not be delay'd. + If my offence be of such mortal kind + That nor my service past, nor present sorrows, + Nor purposed merit in futurity, + Can ransom me into his love again, + But to know so must be my benefit; + So shall I clothe me in a forced content, + And shut myself up in some other course, + To fortune's alms. + +DESDEMONA Alas, thrice-gentle Cassio! + My advocation is not now in tune; + My lord is not my lord; nor should I know him, + Were he in favour as in humour alter'd. + So help me every spirit sanctified, + As I have spoken for you all my best + And stood within the blank of his displeasure + For my free speech! you must awhile be patient: + What I can do I will; and more I will + Than for myself I dare: let that suffice you. + +IAGO Is my lord angry? + +EMILIA He went hence but now, + And certainly in strange unquietness. + +IAGO Can he be angry? I have seen the cannon, + When it hath blown his ranks into the air, + And, like the devil, from his very arm + Puff'd his own brother:--and can he be angry? + Something of moment then: I will go meet him: + There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. + +DESDEMONA I prithee, do so. + + [Exit IAGO] + + Something, sure, of state, + Either from Venice, or some unhatch'd practise + Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, + Hath puddled his clear spirit: and in such cases + Men's natures wrangle with inferior things, + Though great ones are their object. 'Tis even so; + For let our finger ache, and it indues + Our other healthful members even to that sense + Of pain: nay, we must think men are not gods, + Nor of them look for such observances + As fit the bridal. Beshrew me much, Emilia, + I was, unhandsome warrior as I am, + Arraigning his unkindness with my soul; + But now I find I had suborn'd the witness, + And he's indicted falsely. + +EMILIA Pray heaven it be state-matters, as you think, + And no conception nor no jealous toy + Concerning you. + +DESDEMONA Alas the day! I never gave him cause. + +EMILIA But jealous souls will not be answer'd so; + They are not ever jealous for the cause, + But jealous for they are jealous: 'tis a monster + Begot upon itself, born on itself. + +DESDEMONA Heaven keep that monster from Othello's mind! + +EMILIA Lady, amen. + +DESDEMONA I will go seek him. Cassio, walk hereabout: + If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit + And seek to effect it to my uttermost. + +CASSIO I humbly thank your ladyship. + + [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] + + [Enter BIANCA] + +BIANCA Save you, friend Cassio! + +CASSIO What make you from home? + How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? + I' faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. + +BIANCA And I was going to your lodging, Cassio. + What, keep a week away? seven days and nights? + Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hours, + More tedious than the dial eight score times? + O weary reckoning! + +CASSIO Pardon me, Bianca: + I have this while with leaden thoughts been press'd: + But I shall, in a more continuate time, + Strike off this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, + + [Giving her DESDEMONA's handkerchief] + + Take me this work out. + +BIANCA O Cassio, whence came this? + This is some token from a newer friend: + To the felt absence now I feel a cause: + Is't come to this? Well, well. + +CASSIO Go to, woman! + Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth, + From whence you have them. You are jealous now + That this is from some mistress, some remembrance: + No, in good troth, Bianca. + +BIANCA Why, whose is it? + +CASSIO I know not, sweet: I found it in my chamber. + I like the work well: ere it be demanded-- + As like enough it will--I'ld have it copied: + Take it, and do't; and leave me for this time. + +BIANCA Leave you! wherefore? + +CASSIO I do attend here on the general; + And think it no addition, nor my wish, + To have him see me woman'd. + +BIANCA Why, I pray you? + +CASSIO Not that I love you not. + +BIANCA But that you do not love me. + I pray you, bring me on the way a little, + And say if I shall see you soon at night. + +CASSIO 'Tis but a little way that I can bring you; + For I attend here: but I'll see you soon. + +BIANCA 'Tis very good; I must be circumstanced. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Cyprus. Before the castle. + + + [Enter OTHELLO and IAGO] + +IAGO Will you think so? + +OTHELLO Think so, Iago! + +IAGO What, + To kiss in private? + +OTHELLO An unauthorized kiss. + +IAGO Or to be naked with her friend in bed + An hour or more, not meaning any harm? + +OTHELLO Naked in bed, Iago, and not mean harm! + It is hypocrisy against the devil: + They that mean virtuously, and yet do so, + The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt heaven. + +IAGO So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip: + But if I give my wife a handkerchief,-- + +OTHELLO What then? + +IAGO Why, then, 'tis hers, my lord; and, being hers, + She may, I think, bestow't on any man. + +OTHELLO She is protectress of her honour too: + May she give that? + +IAGO Her honour is an essence that's not seen; + They have it very oft that have it not: + But, for the handkerchief,-- + +OTHELLO By heaven, I would most gladly have forgot it. + Thou said'st, it comes o'er my memory, + As doth the raven o'er the infected house, + Boding to all--he had my handkerchief. + +IAGO Ay, what of that? + +OTHELLO That's not so good now. + +IAGO What, + If I had said I had seen him do you wrong? + Or heard him say,--as knaves be such abroad, + Who having, by their own importunate suit, + Or voluntary dotage of some mistress, + Convinced or supplied them, cannot choose + But they must blab-- + +OTHELLO Hath he said any thing? + +IAGO He hath, my lord; but be you well assured, + No more than he'll unswear. + +OTHELLO What hath he said? + +IAGO 'Faith, that he did--I know not what he did. + +OTHELLO What? what? + +IAGO Lie-- + +OTHELLO With her? + +IAGO With her, on her; what you will. + +OTHELLO Lie with her! lie on her! We say lie on her, when + they belie her. Lie with her! that's fulsome. + --Handkerchief--confessions--handkerchief!--To + confess, and be hanged for his labour;--first, to be + hanged, and then to confess.--I tremble at it. + Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing + passion without some instruction. It is not words + that shake me thus. Pish! Noses, ears, and lips. + --Is't possible?--Confess--handkerchief!--O devil!-- + + [Falls in a trance] + +IAGO Work on, + My medicine, work! Thus credulous fools are caught; + And many worthy and chaste dames even thus, + All guiltless, meet reproach. What, ho! my lord! + My lord, I say! Othello! + + [Enter CASSIO] + + How now, Cassio! + +CASSIO What's the matter? + +IAGO My lord is fall'n into an epilepsy: + This is his second fit; he had one yesterday. + +CASSIO Rub him about the temples. + +IAGO No, forbear; + The lethargy must have his quiet course: + If not, he foams at mouth and by and by + Breaks out to savage madness. Look he stirs: + Do you withdraw yourself a little while, + He will recover straight: when he is gone, + I would on great occasion speak with you. + + [Exit CASSIO] + + How is it, general? have you not hurt your head? + +OTHELLO Dost thou mock me? + +IAGO I mock you! no, by heaven. + Would you would bear your fortune like a man! + +OTHELLO A horned man's a monster and a beast. + +IAGO There's many a beast then in a populous city, + And many a civil monster. + +OTHELLO Did he confess it? + +IAGO Good sir, be a man; + Think every bearded fellow that's but yoked + May draw with you: there's millions now alive + That nightly lie in those unproper beds + Which they dare swear peculiar: your case is better. + O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, + To lip a wanton in a secure couch, + And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know; + And knowing what I am, I know what she shall be. + +OTHELLO O, thou art wise; 'tis certain. + +IAGO Stand you awhile apart; + Confine yourself but in a patient list. + Whilst you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief-- + A passion most unsuiting such a man-- + Cassio came hither: I shifted him away, + And laid good 'scuse upon your ecstasy, + Bade him anon return and here speak with me; + The which he promised. Do but encave yourself, + And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notable scorns, + That dwell in every region of his face; + For I will make him tell the tale anew, + Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and when + He hath, and is again to cope your wife: + I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; + Or I shall say you are all in all in spleen, + And nothing of a man. + +OTHELLO Dost thou hear, Iago? + I will be found most cunning in my patience; + But--dost thou hear?--most bloody. + +IAGO That's not amiss; + But yet keep time in all. Will you withdraw? + + [OTHELLO retires] + + Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, + A housewife that by selling her desires + Buys herself bread and clothes: it is a creature + That dotes on Cassio; as 'tis the strumpet's plague + To beguile many and be beguiled by one: + He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain + From the excess of laughter. Here he comes: + + [Re-enter CASSIO] + + As he shall smile, Othello shall go mad; + And his unbookish jealousy must construe + Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures and light behavior, + Quite in the wrong. How do you now, lieutenant? + +CASSIO The worser that you give me the addition + Whose want even kills me. + +IAGO Ply Desdemona well, and you are sure on't. + + [Speaking lower] + + Now, if this suit lay in Bianco's power, + How quickly should you speed! + +CASSIO Alas, poor caitiff! + +OTHELLO Look, how he laughs already! + +IAGO I never knew woman love man so. + +CASSIO Alas, poor rogue! I think, i' faith, she loves me. + +OTHELLO Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it out. + +IAGO Do you hear, Cassio? + +OTHELLO Now he importunes him + To tell it o'er: go to; well said, well said. + +IAGO She gives it out that you shall marry hey: + Do you intend it? + +CASSIO Ha, ha, ha! + +OTHELLO Do you triumph, Roman? do you triumph? + +CASSIO I marry her! what? a customer! Prithee, bear some + charity to my wit: do not think it so unwholesome. + Ha, ha, ha! + +OTHELLO So, so, so, so: they laugh that win. + +IAGO 'Faith, the cry goes that you shall marry her. + +CASSIO Prithee, say true. + +IAGO I am a very villain else. + +OTHELLO Have you scored me? Well. + +CASSIO This is the monkey's own giving out: she is + persuaded I will marry her, out of her own love and + flattery, not out of my promise. + +OTHELLO Iago beckons me; now he begins the story. + +CASSIO She was here even now; she haunts me in every place. + I was the other day talking on the sea-bank with + certain Venetians; and thither comes the bauble, + and, by this hand, she falls me thus about my neck-- + +OTHELLO Crying 'O dear Cassio!' as it were: his gesture + imports it. + +CASSIO So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon me; so hales, + and pulls me: ha, ha, ha! + +OTHELLO Now he tells how she plucked him to my chamber. O, + I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall + throw it to. + +CASSIO Well, I must leave her company. + +IAGO Before me! look, where she comes. + +CASSIO 'Tis such another fitchew! marry a perfumed one. + + [Enter BIANCA] + + What do you mean by this haunting of me? + +BIANCA Let the devil and his dam haunt you! What did you + mean by that same handkerchief you gave me even now? + I was a fine fool to take it. I must take out the + work?--A likely piece of work, that you should find + it in your chamber, and not know who left it there! + This is some minx's token, and I must take out the + work? There; give it your hobby-horse: wheresoever + you had it, I'll take out no work on't. + +CASSIO How now, my sweet Bianca! how now! how now! + +OTHELLO By heaven, that should be my handkerchief! + +BIANCA An you'll come to supper to-night, you may; an you + will not, come when you are next prepared for. + + [Exit] + +IAGO After her, after her. + +CASSIO 'Faith, I must; she'll rail in the street else. + +IAGO Will you sup there? + +CASSIO 'Faith, I intend so. + +IAGO Well, I may chance to see you; for I would very fain + speak with you. + +CASSIO Prithee, come; will you? + +IAGO Go to; say no more. + + [Exit CASSIO] + +OTHELLO [Advancing] How shall I murder him, Iago? + +IAGO Did you perceive how he laughed at his vice? + +OTHELLO O Iago! + +IAGO And did you see the handkerchief? + +OTHELLO Was that mine? + +IAGO Yours by this hand: and to see how he prizes the + foolish woman your wife! she gave it him, and he + hath given it his whore. + +OTHELLO I would have him nine years a-killing. + A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet woman! + +IAGO Nay, you must forget that. + +OTHELLO Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned to-night; + for she shall not live: no, my heart is turned to + stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand. O, the + world hath not a sweeter creature: she might lie by + an emperor's side and command him tasks. + +IAGO Nay, that's not your way. + +OTHELLO Hang her! I do but say what she is: so delicate + with her needle: an admirable musician: O! she + will sing the savageness out of a bear: of so high + and plenteous wit and invention:-- + +IAGO She's the worse for all this. + +OTHELLO O, a thousand thousand times: and then, of so + gentle a condition! + +IAGO Ay, too gentle. + +OTHELLO Nay, that's certain: but yet the pity of it, Iago! + O Iago, the pity of it, Iago! + +IAGO If you are so fond over her iniquity, give her + patent to offend; for, if it touch not you, it comes + near nobody. + +OTHELLO I will chop her into messes: cuckold me! + +IAGO O, 'tis foul in her. + +OTHELLO With mine officer! + +IAGO That's fouler. + +OTHELLO Get me some poison, Iago; this night: I'll not + expostulate with her, lest her body and beauty + unprovide my mind again: this night, Iago. + +IAGO Do it not with poison, strangle her in her bed, even + the bed she hath contaminated. + +OTHELLO Good, good: the justice of it pleases: very good. + +IAGO And for Cassio, let me be his undertaker: you + shall hear more by midnight. + +OTHELLO Excellent good. + + [A trumpet within] + + What trumpet is that same? + +IAGO Something from Venice, sure. 'Tis Lodovico + Come from the duke: and, see, your wife is with him. + + [Enter LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, and Attendants] + +LODOVICO Save you, worthy general! + +OTHELLO With all my heart, sir. + +LODOVICO The duke and senators of Venice greet you. + + [Gives him a letter] + +OTHELLO I kiss the instrument of their pleasures. + + [Opens the letter, and reads] + +DESDEMONA And what's the news, good cousin Lodovico? + +IAGO I am very glad to see you, signior + Welcome to Cyprus. + +LODOVICO I thank you. How does Lieutenant Cassio? + +IAGO Lives, sir. + +DESDEMONA Cousin, there's fall'n between him and my lord + An unkind breach: but you shall make all well. + +OTHELLO Are you sure of that? + +DESDEMONA My lord? + +OTHELLO [Reads] 'This fail you not to do, as you will--' + +LODOVICO He did not call; he's busy in the paper. + Is there division 'twixt my lord and Cassio? + +DESDEMONA A most unhappy one: I would do much + To atone them, for the love I bear to Cassio. + +OTHELLO Fire and brimstone! + +DESDEMONA My lord? + +OTHELLO Are you wise? + +DESDEMONA What, is he angry? + +LODOVICO May be the letter moved him; + For, as I think, they do command him home, + Deputing Cassio in his government. + +DESDEMONA Trust me, I am glad on't. + +OTHELLO Indeed! + +DESDEMONA My lord? + +OTHELLO I am glad to see you mad. + +DESDEMONA Why, sweet Othello,-- + +OTHELLO [Striking her] Devil! + +DESDEMONA I have not deserved this. + +LODOVICO My lord, this would not be believed in Venice, + Though I should swear I saw't: 'tis very much: + Make her amends; she weeps. + +OTHELLO O devil, devil! + If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, + Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile. + Out of my sight! + +DESDEMONA I will not stay to offend you. + + [Going] + +LODOVICO Truly, an obedient lady: + I do beseech your lordship, call her back. + +OTHELLO Mistress! + +DESDEMONA My lord? + +OTHELLO What would you with her, sir? + +LODOVICO Who, I, my lord? + +OTHELLO Ay; you did wish that I would make her turn: + Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, + And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; + And she's obedient, as you say, obedient, + Very obedient. Proceed you in your tears. + Concerning this, sir,--O well-painted passion!-- + I am commanded home. Get you away; + I'll send for you anon. Sir, I obey the mandate, + And will return to Venice. Hence, avaunt! + + [Exit DESDEMONA] + + Cassio shall have my place. And, sir, tonight, + I do entreat that we may sup together: + You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.--Goats and monkeys! + + [Exit] + +LODOVICO Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate + Call all in all sufficient? Is this the nature + Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue + The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, + Could neither graze nor pierce? + +IAGO He is much changed. + +LODOVICO Are his wits safe? is he not light of brain? + +IAGO He's that he is: I may not breathe my censure + What he might be: if what he might he is not, + I would to heaven he were! + +LODOVICO What, strike his wife! + +IAGO 'Faith, that was not so well; yet would I knew + That stroke would prove the worst! + +LODOVICO Is it his use? + Or did the letters work upon his blood, + And new-create this fault? + +IAGO Alas, alas! + It is not honesty in me to speak + What I have seen and known. You shall observe him, + And his own courses will denote him so + That I may save my speech: do but go after, + And mark how he continues. + +LODOVICO I am sorry that I am deceived in him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE II A room in the castle. + + + [Enter OTHELLO and EMILIA] + +OTHELLO You have seen nothing then? + +EMILIA Nor ever heard, nor ever did suspect. + +OTHELLO Yes, you have seen Cassio and she together. + +EMILIA But then I saw no harm, and then I heard + Each syllable that breath made up between them. + +OTHELLO What, did they never whisper? + +EMILIA Never, my lord. + +OTHELLO Nor send you out o' the way? + +EMILIA Never. + +OTHELLO To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, nor nothing? + +EMILIA Never, my lord. + +OTHELLO That's strange. + +EMILIA I durst, my lord, to wager she is honest, + Lay down my soul at stake: if you think other, + Remove your thought; it doth abuse your bosom. + If any wretch have put this in your head, + Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse! + For, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, + There's no man happy; the purest of their wives + Is foul as slander. + +OTHELLO Bid her come hither: go. + + [Exit EMILIA] + + She says enough; yet she's a simple bawd + That cannot say as much. This is a subtle whore, + A closet lock and key of villanous secrets + And yet she'll kneel and pray; I have seen her do't. + + [Enter DESDEMONA with EMILIA] + +DESDEMONA My lord, what is your will? + +OTHELLO Pray, chuck, come hither. + +DESDEMONA What is your pleasure? + +OTHELLO Let me see your eyes; + Look in my face. + +DESDEMONA What horrible fancy's this? + +OTHELLO [To EMILIA] Some of your function, mistress; + Leave procreants alone and shut the door; + Cough, or cry 'hem,' if any body come: + Your mystery, your mystery: nay, dispatch. + + [Exit EMILIA] + +DESDEMONA Upon my knees, what doth your speech import? + I understand a fury in your words. + But not the words. + +OTHELLO Why, what art thou? + +DESDEMONA Your wife, my lord; your true + And loyal wife. + +OTHELLO Come, swear it, damn thyself + Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves + Should fear to seize thee: therefore be double damn'd: + Swear thou art honest. + +DESDEMONA Heaven doth truly know it. + +OTHELLO Heaven truly knows that thou art false as hell. + +DESDEMONA To whom, my lord? with whom? how am I false? + +OTHELLO O Desdemona! away! away! away! + +DESDEMONA Alas the heavy day! Why do you weep? + Am I the motive of these tears, my lord? + If haply you my father do suspect + An instrument of this your calling back, + Lay not your blame on me: If you have lost him, + Why, I have lost him too. + +OTHELLO Had it pleased heaven + To try me with affliction; had they rain'd + All kinds of sores and shames on my bare head. + Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips, + Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes, + I should have found in some place of my soul + A drop of patience: but, alas, to make me + A fixed figure for the time of scorn + To point his slow unmoving finger at! + Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: + But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, + Where either I must live, or bear no life; + The fountain from the which my current runs, + Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! + Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads + To knot and gender in! Turn thy complexion there, + Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin,-- + Ay, there, look grim as hell! + +DESDEMONA I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. + +OTHELLO O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, + That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, + Who art so lovely fair and smell'st so sweet + That the sense aches at thee, would thou hadst + ne'er been born! + +DESDEMONA Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed? + +OTHELLO Was this fair paper, this most goodly book, + Made to write 'whore' upon? What committed! + Committed! O thou public commoner! + I should make very forges of my cheeks, + That would to cinders burn up modesty, + Did I but speak thy deeds. What committed! + Heaven stops the nose at it and the moon winks, + The bawdy wind that kisses all it meets + Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth, + And will not hear it. What committed! + Impudent strumpet! + +DESDEMONA By heaven, you do me wrong. + +OTHELLO Are you not a strumpet? + +DESDEMONA No, as I am a Christian: + If to preserve this vessel for my lord + From any other foul unlawful touch + Be not to be a strumpet, I am none. + +OTHELLO What, not a whore? + +DESDEMONA No, as I shall be saved. + +OTHELLO Is't possible? + +DESDEMONA O, heaven forgive us! + +OTHELLO I cry you mercy, then: + I took you for that cunning whore of Venice + That married with Othello. + + [Raising his voice] + + You, mistress, + That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, + And keep the gate of hell! + + [Re-enter EMILIA] + + You, you, ay, you! + We have done our course; there's money for your pains: + I pray you, turn the key and keep our counsel. + + [Exit] + +EMILIA Alas, what does this gentleman conceive? + How do you, madam? how do you, my good lady? + +DESDEMONA 'Faith, half asleep. + +EMILIA Good madam, what's the matter with my lord? + +DESDEMONA With who? + +EMILIA Why, with my lord, madam. + +DESDEMONA Who is thy lord? + +EMILIA He that is yours, sweet lady. + +DESDEMONA I have none: do not talk to me, Emilia; + I cannot weep; nor answer have I none, + But what should go by water. Prithee, tonight + Lay on my bed my wedding sheets: remember; + And call thy husband hither. + +EMILIA Here's a change indeed! + + [Exit] + +DESDEMONA 'Tis meet I should be used so, very meet. + How have I been behaved, that he might stick + The small'st opinion on my least misuse? + + [Re-enter EMILIA with IAGO] + +IAGO What is your pleasure, madam? + How is't with you? + +DESDEMONA I cannot tell. Those that do teach young babes + Do it with gentle means and easy tasks: + He might have chid me so; for, in good faith, + I am a child to chiding. + +IAGO What's the matter, lady? + +EMILIA Alas, Iago, my lord hath so bewhored her. + Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon her, + As true hearts cannot bear. + +DESDEMONA Am I that name, Iago? + +IAGO What name, fair lady? + +DESDEMONA Such as she says my lord did say I was. + +EMILIA He call'd her whore: a beggar in his drink + Could not have laid such terms upon his callat. + +IAGO Why did he so? + +DESDEMONA I do not know; I am sure I am none such. + +IAGO Do not weep, do not weep. Alas the day! + +EMILIA Hath she forsook so many noble matches, + Her father and her country and her friends, + To be call'd whore? would it not make one weep? + +DESDEMONA It is my wretched fortune. + +IAGO Beshrew him for't! + How comes this trick upon him? + +DESDEMONA Nay, heaven doth know. + +EMILIA I will be hang'd, if some eternal villain, + Some busy and insinuating rogue, + Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office, + Have not devised this slander; I'll be hang'd else. + +IAGO Fie, there is no such man; it is impossible. + +DESDEMONA If any such there be, heaven pardon him! + +EMILIA A halter pardon him! and hell gnaw his bones! + Why should he call her whore? who keeps her company? + What place? what time? what form? what likelihood? + The Moor's abused by some most villanous knave, + Some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow. + O heaven, that such companions thou'ldst unfold, + And put in every honest hand a whip + To lash the rascals naked through the world + Even from the east to the west! + +IAGO Speak within door. + +EMILIA O, fie upon them! Some such squire he was + That turn'd your wit the seamy side without, + And made you to suspect me with the Moor. + +IAGO You are a fool; go to. + +DESDEMONA O good Iago, + What shall I do to win my lord again? + Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, + I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: + If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, + Either in discourse of thought or actual deed, + Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, + Delighted them in any other form; + Or that I do not yet, and ever did. + And ever will--though he do shake me off + To beggarly divorcement--love him dearly, + Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do much; + And his unkindness may defeat my life, + But never taint my love. I cannot say 'whore:' + It does abhor me now I speak the word; + To do the act that might the addition earn + Not the world's mass of vanity could make me. + +IAGO I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour: + The business of the state does him offence, + And he does chide with you. + +DESDEMONA If 'twere no other-- + +IAGO 'Tis but so, I warrant. + + [Trumpets within] + + Hark, how these instruments summon to supper! + The messengers of Venice stay the meat; + Go in, and weep not; all things shall be well. + + [Exeunt DESDEMONA and EMILIA] + + [Enter RODERIGO] + + How now, Roderigo! + +RODERIGO I do not find that thou dealest justly with me. + +IAGO What in the contrary? + +RODERIGO Every day thou daffest me with some device, Iago; + and rather, as it seems to me now, keepest from me + all conveniency than suppliest me with the least + advantage of hope. I will indeed no longer endure + it, nor am I yet persuaded to put up in peace what + already I have foolishly suffered. + +IAGO Will you hear me, Roderigo? + +RODERIGO 'Faith, I have heard too much, for your words and + performances are no kin together. + +IAGO You charge me most unjustly. + +RODERIGO With nought but truth. I have wasted myself out of + my means. The jewels you have had from me to + deliver to Desdemona would half have corrupted a + votarist: you have told me she hath received them + and returned me expectations and comforts of sudden + respect and acquaintance, but I find none. + +IAGO Well; go to; very well. + +RODERIGO Very well! go to! I cannot go to, man; nor 'tis + not very well: nay, I think it is scurvy, and begin + to find myself fobbed in it. + +IAGO Very well. + +RODERIGO I tell you 'tis not very well. I will make myself + known to Desdemona: if she will return me my + jewels, I will give over my suit and repent my + unlawful solicitation; if not, assure yourself I + will seek satisfaction of you. + +IAGO You have said now. + +RODERIGO Ay, and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing. + +IAGO Why, now I see there's mettle in thee, and even from + this instant to build on thee a better opinion than + ever before. Give me thy hand, Roderigo: thou hast + taken against me a most just exception; but yet, I + protest, I have dealt most directly in thy affair. + +RODERIGO It hath not appeared. + +IAGO I grant indeed it hath not appeared, and your + suspicion is not without wit and judgment. But, + Roderigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I + have greater reason to believe now than ever, I mean + purpose, courage and valour, this night show it: if + thou the next night following enjoy not Desdemona, + take me from this world with treachery and devise + engines for my life. + +RODERIGO Well, what is it? is it within reason and compass? + +IAGO Sir, there is especial commission come from Venice + to depute Cassio in Othello's place. + +RODERIGO Is that true? why, then Othello and Desdemona + return again to Venice. + +IAGO O, no; he goes into Mauritania and takes away with + him the fair Desdemona, unless his abode be + lingered here by some accident: wherein none can be + so determinate as the removing of Cassio. + +RODERIGO How do you mean, removing of him? + +IAGO Why, by making him uncapable of Othello's place; + knocking out his brains. + +RODERIGO And that you would have me to do? + +IAGO Ay, if you dare do yourself a profit and a right. + He sups to-night with a harlotry, and thither will I + go to him: he knows not yet of his horrorable + fortune. If you will watch his going thence, which + I will fashion to fall out between twelve and one, + you may take him at your pleasure: I will be near + to second your attempt, and he shall fall between + us. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go along with + me; I will show you such a necessity in his death + that you shall think yourself bound to put it on + him. It is now high suppertime, and the night grows + to waste: about it. + +RODERIGO I will hear further reason for this. + +IAGO And you shall be satisfied. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Another room in the castle. + + + [Enter OTHELLO, LODOVICO, DESDEMONA, EMILIA and + Attendants] + +LODOVICO I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself no further. + +OTHELLO O, pardon me: 'twill do me good to walk. + +LODOVICO Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship. + +DESDEMONA Your honour is most welcome. + +OTHELLO Will you walk, sir? + O,--Desdemona,-- + +DESDEMONA My lord? + +OTHELLO Get you to bed on the instant; I will be returned + forthwith: dismiss your attendant there: look it be done. + +DESDEMONA I will, my lord. + + [Exeunt OTHELLO, LODOVICO, and Attendants] + +EMILIA How goes it now? he looks gentler than he did. + +DESDEMONA He says he will return incontinent: + He hath commanded me to go to bed, + And bade me to dismiss you. + +EMILIA Dismiss me! + +DESDEMONA It was his bidding: therefore, good Emilia,. + Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu: + We must not now displease him. + +EMILIA I would you had never seen him! + +DESDEMONA So would not I my love doth so approve him, + That even his stubbornness, his cheques, his frowns-- + Prithee, unpin me,--have grace and favour in them. + +EMILIA I have laid those sheets you bade me on the bed. + +DESDEMONA All's one. Good faith, how foolish are our minds! + If I do die before thee prithee, shroud me + In one of those same sheets. + +EMILIA Come, come you talk. + +DESDEMONA My mother had a maid call'd Barbara: + She was in love, and he she loved proved mad + And did forsake her: she had a song of 'willow;' + An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune, + And she died singing it: that song to-night + Will not go from my mind; I have much to do, + But to go hang my head all at one side, + And sing it like poor Barbara. Prithee, dispatch. + +EMILIA Shall I go fetch your night-gown? + +DESDEMONA No, unpin me here. + This Lodovico is a proper man. + +EMILIA A very handsome man. + +DESDEMONA He speaks well. + +EMILIA I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot + to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip. + +DESDEMONA [Singing] The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree, + Sing all a green willow: + Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, + Sing willow, willow, willow: + The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; + Sing willow, willow, willow; + Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; + Lay by these:-- + + [Singing] + + Sing willow, willow, willow; + Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon:-- + + [Singing] + + Sing all a green willow must be my garland. + Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve,- + Nay, that's not next.--Hark! who is't that knocks? + +EMILIA It's the wind. + +DESDEMONA [Singing] I call'd my love false love; but what + said he then? + Sing willow, willow, willow: + If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men! + So, get thee gone; good night Ate eyes do itch; + Doth that bode weeping? + +EMILIA 'Tis neither here nor there. + +DESDEMONA I have heard it said so. O, these men, these men! + Dost thou in conscience think,--tell me, Emilia,-- + That there be women do abuse their husbands + In such gross kind? + +EMILIA There be some such, no question. + +DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? + +EMILIA Why, would not you? + +DESDEMONA No, by this heavenly light! + +EMILIA Nor I neither by this heavenly light; + I might do't as well i' the dark. + +DESDEMONA Wouldst thou do such a deed for all the world? + +EMILIA The world's a huge thing: it is a great price. + For a small vice. + +DESDEMONA In troth, I think thou wouldst not. + +EMILIA In troth, I think I should; and undo't when I had + done. Marry, I would not do such a thing for a + joint-ring, nor for measures of lawn, nor for + gowns, petticoats, nor caps, nor any petty + exhibition; but for the whole world,--why, who would + not make her husband a cuckold to make him a + monarch? I should venture purgatory for't. + +DESDEMONA Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong + For the whole world. + +EMILIA Why the wrong is but a wrong i' the world: and + having the world for your labour, tis a wrong in your + own world, and you might quickly make it right. + +DESDEMONA I do not think there is any such woman. + +EMILIA Yes, a dozen; and as many to the vantage as would + store the world they played for. + But I do think it is their husbands' faults + If wives do fall: say that they slack their duties, + And pour our treasures into foreign laps, + Or else break out in peevish jealousies, + Throwing restraint upon us; or say they strike us, + Or scant our former having in despite; + Why, we have galls, and though we have some grace, + Yet have we some revenge. Let husbands know + Their wives have sense like them: they see and smell + And have their palates both for sweet and sour, + As husbands have. What is it that they do + When they change us for others? Is it sport? + I think it is: and doth affection breed it? + I think it doth: is't frailty that thus errs? + It is so too: and have not we affections, + Desires for sport, and frailty, as men have? + Then let them use us well: else let them know, + The ills we do, their ills instruct us so. + +DESDEMONA Good night, good night: heaven me such uses send, + Not to pick bad from bad, but by bad mend! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Cyprus. A street. + + + [Enter IAGO and RODERIGO] + +IAGO Here, stand behind this bulk; straight will he come: + Wear thy good rapier bare, and put it home: + Quick, quick; fear nothing; I'll be at thy elbow: + It makes us, or it mars us; think on that, + And fix most firm thy resolution. + +RODERIGO Be near at hand; I may miscarry in't. + +IAGO Here, at thy hand: be bold, and take thy stand. + + [Retires] + +RODERIGO I have no great devotion to the deed; + And yet he hath given me satisfying reasons: + 'Tis but a man gone. Forth, my sword: he dies. + +IAGO I have rubb'd this young quat almost to the sense, + And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, + Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, + Every way makes my gain: live Roderigo, + He calls me to a restitution large + Of gold and jewels that I bobb'd from him, + As gifts to Desdemona; + It must not be: if Cassio do remain, + He hath a daily beauty in his life + That makes me ugly; and, besides, the Moor + May unfold me to him; there stand I in much peril: + No, he must die. But so: I hear him coming. + + [Enter CASSIO] + +RODERIGO I know his gait, 'tis he.--Villain, thou diest! + + [Makes a pass at CASSIO] + +CASSIO That thrust had been mine enemy indeed, + But that my coat is better than thou know'st + I will make proof of thine. + + [Draws, and wounds RODERIGO] + +RODERIGO O, I am slain! + + [IAGO from behind wounds CASSIO in the leg, and exit] + +CASSIO I am maim'd for ever. Help, ho! murder! murder! + + [Falls] + + [Enter OTHELLO] + +OTHELLO The voice of Cassio: Iago keeps his word. + +RODERIGO O, villain that I am! + +OTHELLO It is even so. + +CASSIO O, help, ho! light! a surgeon! + +OTHELLO 'Tis he:--O brave Iago, honest and just, + That hast such noble sense of thy friend's wrong! + Thou teachest me. Minion, your dear lies dead, + And your unblest fate hies: strumpet, I come. + Forth of my heart those charms, thine eyes, are blotted; + Thy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood be spotted. + + [Exit] + + [Enter LODOVICO and GRATIANO] + +CASSIO What, ho! no watch? no passage? murder! murder! + +GRATIANO 'Tis some mischance; the cry is very direful. + +CASSIO O, help! + +LODOVICO Hark! + +RODERIGO O wretched villain! + +LODOVICO Two or three groan: it is a heavy night: + These may be counterfeits: let's think't unsafe + To come in to the cry without more help. + +RODERIGO Nobody come? then shall I bleed to death. + +LODOVICO Hark! + + [Re-enter IAGO, with a light] + +GRATIANO Here's one comes in his shirt, with light and weapons. + +IAGO Who's there? whose noise is this that ones on murder? + +LODOVICO We do not know. + +IAGO Did not you hear a cry? + +CASSIO Here, here! for heaven's sake, help me! + +IAGO What's the matter? + +GRATIANO This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. + +LODOVICO The same indeed; a very valiant fellow. + +IAGO What are you here that cry so grievously? + +CASSIO Iago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by villains! + Give me some help. + +IAGO O me, lieutenant! what villains have done this? + +CASSIO I think that one of them is hereabout, + And cannot make away. + +IAGO O treacherous villains! + What are you there? come in, and give some help. + + [To LODOVICO and GRATIANO] + +RODERIGO O, help me here! + +CASSIO That's one of them. + +IAGO O murderous slave! O villain! + + [Stabs RODERIGO] + +RODERIGO O damn'd Iago! O inhuman dog! + +IAGO Kill men i' the dark!--Where be these bloody thieves?-- + How silent is this town!--Ho! murder! murder!-- + What may you be? are you of good or evil? + +LODOVICO As you shall prove us, praise us. + +IAGO Signior Lodovico? + +LODOVICO He, sir. + +IAGO I cry you mercy. Here's Cassio hurt by villains. + +GRATIANO Cassio! + +IAGO How is't, brother! + +CASSIO My leg is cut in two. + +IAGO Marry, heaven forbid! + Light, gentlemen; I'll bind it with my shirt. + + [Enter BIANCA] + +BIANCA What is the matter, ho? who is't that cried? + +IAGO Who is't that cried! + +BIANCA O my dear Cassio! my sweet Cassio! O Cassio, + Cassio, Cassio! + +IAGO O notable strumpet! Cassio, may you suspect + Who they should be that have thus many led you? + +CASSIO No. + +GRATIANO I am to find you thus: I have been to seek you. + +IAGO Lend me a garter. So. O, for a chair, + To bear him easily hence! + +BIANCA Alas, he faints! O Cassio, Cassio, Cassio! + +IAGO Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash + To be a party in this injury. + Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; + Lend me a light. Know we this face or no? + Alas my friend and my dear countryman + Roderigo! no:--yes, sure: O heaven! Roderigo. + +GRATIANO What, of Venice? + +IAGO Even he, sir; did you know him? + +GRATIANO Know him! ay. + +IAGO Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle pardon; + These bloody accidents must excuse my manners, + That so neglected you. + +GRATIANO I am glad to see you. + +IAGO How do you, Cassio? O, a chair, a chair! + +GRATIANO Roderigo! + +IAGO He, he 'tis he. + + [A chair brought in] + + O, that's well said; the chair! + +GRATIANO Some good man bear him carefully from hence; + I'll fetch the general's surgeon. + + [To BIANCA] + + For you, mistress, + Save you your labour. He that lies slain + here, Cassio, + Was my dear friend: what malice was between you? + +CASSIO None in the world; nor do I know the man. + +IAGO [To BIANCA] What, look you pale? O, bear him out + o' the air. + + [CASSIO and RODERIGO are borne off] + + Stay you, good gentlemen. Look you pale, mistress? + Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? + Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon. + Behold her well; I pray you, look upon her: + Do you see, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will speak, + Though tongues were out of use. + + [Enter EMILIA] + +EMILIA 'Las, what's the matter? what's the matter, husband? + +IAGO Cassio hath here been set on in the dark + By Roderigo and fellows that are scaped: + He's almost slain, and Roderigo dead. + +EMILIA Alas, good gentleman! alas, good Cassio! + +IAGO This is the fruit of whoring. Prithee, Emilia, + Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night. + + [To BIANCA] + + What, do you shake at that? + +BIANCA He supp'd at my house; but I therefore shake not. + +IAGO O, did he so? I charge you, go with me. + +EMILIA Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet! + +BIANCA I am no strumpet; but of life as honest + As you that thus abuse me. + +EMILIA As I! foh! fie upon thee! + +IAGO Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor Cassio dress'd. + Come, mistress, you must tell's another tale. + Emilia run you to the citadel, + And tell my lord and lady what hath happ'd. + Will you go on? I pray. + + [Aside] + + This is the night + That either makes me or fordoes me quite. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + OTHELLO + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep; + a light burning. + + + [Enter OTHELLO] + +OTHELLO It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,-- + Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!-- + It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; + Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, + And smooth as monumental alabaster. + Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. + Put out the light, and then put out the light: + If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, + I can again thy former light restore, + Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, + Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, + I know not where is that Promethean heat + That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose, + I cannot give it vital growth again. + It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree. + + [Kissing her] + + Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade + Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. + Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, + And love thee after. One more, and this the last: + So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, + But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly; + It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. + +DESDEMONA Who's there? Othello? + +OTHELLO Ay. Desdemona. + +DESDEMONA Will you come to bed, my lord? + +OTHELLO Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona? + +DESDEMONA Ay, my lord. + +OTHELLO If you bethink yourself of any crime + Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, + Solicit for it straight. + +DESDEMONA Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that? + +OTHELLO Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by: + I would not kill thy unprepared spirit; + No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul. + +DESDEMONA Talk you of killing? + +OTHELLO Ay, I do. + +DESDEMONA Then heaven + Have mercy on me! + +OTHELLO Amen, with all my heart! + +DESDEMONA If you say so, I hope you will not kill me. + +OTHELLO Hum! + +DESDEMONA And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then + When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not, + Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear. + +OTHELLO Think on thy sins. + +DESDEMONA They are loves I bear to you. + +OTHELLO Ay, and for that thou diest. + +DESDEMONA That death's unnatural that kills for loving. + Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? + Some bloody passion shakes your very frame: + These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope, + They do not point on me. + +OTHELLO Peace, and be still! + +DESDEMONA I will so. What's the matter? + +OTHELLO That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee + Thou gavest to Cassio. + +DESDEMONA No, by my life and soul! + Send for the man, and ask him. + +OTHELLO Sweet soul, take heed, + Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed. + +DESDEMONA Ay, but not yet to die. + +OTHELLO Yes, presently: + Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin; + For to deny each article with oath + Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception + That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. + +DESDEMONA Then Lord have mercy on me! + +OTHELLO I say, amen. + +DESDEMONA And have you mercy too! I never did + Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio + But with such general warranty of heaven + As I might love: I never gave him token. + +OTHELLO By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand. + O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart, + And makest me call what I intend to do + A murder, which I thought a sacrifice: + I saw the handkerchief. + +DESDEMONA He found it then; + I never gave it him: send for him hither; + Let him confess a truth. + +OTHELLO He hath confess'd. + +DESDEMONA What, my lord? + +OTHELLO That he hath used thee. + +DESDEMONA How? unlawfully? + +OTHELLO Ay. + +DESDEMONA He will not say so. + +OTHELLO No, his mouth is stopp'd; + Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't. + +DESDEMONA O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead? + +OTHELLO Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge + Had stomach for them all. + +DESDEMONA Alas! he is betray'd and I undone. + +OTHELLO Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face? + +DESDEMONA O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not! + +OTHELLO Down, strumpet! + +DESDEMONA Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night! + +OTHELLO Nay, if you strive-- + +DESDEMONA But half an hour! + +OTHELLO Being done, there is no pause. + +DESDEMONA But while I say one prayer! + +OTHELLO It is too late. + + [He stifles her] + +EMILIA [Within] My lord, my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord! + +OTHELLO What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? + I that am cruel am yet merciful; + I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so. + +EMILIA [Within] What, ho! my lord, my lord! + +OTHELLO Who's there? + +EMILIA [Within] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you! + +OTHELLO Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead. + 'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.-- + The noise was here. Ha! no more moving? + Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?-- + I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do? + If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife: + My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. + O insupportable! O heavy hour! + Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse + Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe + Should yawn at alteration. + +EMILIA [Within] I do beseech you + That I may speak with you, O, good my lord! + +OTHELLO I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia; + Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw. + Where art thou? + + [Unlocks the door] + + [Enter EMILIA] + + What's the matter with thee now? + +EMILIA O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done! + +OTHELLO What, now? + +EMILIA But now, my lord. + +OTHELLO It is the very error of the moon; + She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, + And makes men mad. + +EMILIA Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian + Call'd Roderigo. + +OTHELLO Roderigo kill'd! + And Cassio kill'd! + +EMILIA No, Cassio is not kill'd. + +OTHELLO Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune, + And sweet revenge grows harsh. + +DESDEMONA O, falsely, falsely murder'd! + +EMILIA Alas, what cry is that? + +OTHELLO That! what? + +EMILIA Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice. + Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again! + Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak! + +DESDEMONA A guiltless death I die. + +EMILIA O, who hath done this deed? + +DESDEMONA Nobody; I myself. Farewell + Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell! + + [Dies] + +OTHELLO Why, how should she be murder'd? + +EMILIA Alas, who knows? + +OTHELLO You heard her say herself, it was not I. + +EMILIA She said so: I must needs report the truth. + +OTHELLO She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell: + 'Twas I that kill'd her. + +EMILIA O, the more angel she, + And you the blacker devil! + +OTHELLO She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore. + +EMILIA Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil. + +OTHELLO She was false as water. + +EMILIA Thou art rash as fire, to say + That she was false: O, she was heavenly true! + +OTHELLO Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else. + O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell, + But that I did proceed upon just grounds + To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all. + +EMILIA My husband! + +OTHELLO Thy husband. + +EMILIA That she was false to wedlock? + +OTHELLO Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true, + If heaven would make me such another world + Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite, + I'ld not have sold her for it. + +EMILIA My husband! + +OTHELLO Ay, 'twas he that told me first: + An honest man he is, and hates the slime + That sticks on filthy deeds. + +EMILIA My husband! + +OTHELLO What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband. + +EMILIA O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love, + My husband say that she was false! + +OTHELLO He, woman; + I say thy husband: dost understand the word? + My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago. + +EMILIA If he say so, may his pernicious soul + Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart: + She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. + +OTHELLO Ha! + +EMILIA Do thy worst: + This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven + Than thou wast worthy her. + +OTHELLO Peace, you were best. + +EMILIA Thou hast not half that power to do me harm + As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt! + As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed-- + I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known, + Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help! + The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder! + + [Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others] + +MONTANO What is the matter? How now, general! + +EMILIA O, are you come, Iago? you have done well, + That men must lay their murders on your neck. + +GRATIANO What is the matter? + +EMILIA Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man: + He says thou told'st him that his wife was false: + I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain: + Speak, for my heart is full. + +IAGO I told him what I thought, and told no more + Than what he found himself was apt and true. + +EMILIA But did you ever tell him she was false? + +IAGO I did. + +EMILIA You told a lie, an odious, damned lie; + Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie. + She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio? + +IAGO With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue. + +EMILIA I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak: + My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,-- + +All O heavens forfend! + +EMILIA And your reports have set the murder on. + +OTHELLO Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed. + +GRATIANO 'Tis a strange truth. + +MONTANO O monstrous act! + +EMILIA Villany, villany, villany! + I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!-- + I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:-- + O villany, villany! + +IAGO What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home. + +EMILIA Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak: + + 'Tis proper I obey him, but not now. + Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home. + +OTHELLO O! O! O! + + [He falls on the bed] + +EMILIA Nay, lay thee down and roar; + For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent + That e'er did lift up eye. + +OTHELLO [Rising] O, she was foul! + I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece, + Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd: + I know this act shows horrible and grim. + +GRATIANO Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead: + Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief + Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now, + This sight would make him do a desperate turn, + Yea, curse his better angel from his side, + And fall to reprobation. + +OTHELLO 'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows + That she with Cassio hath the act of shame + A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it: + And she did gratify his amorous works + With that recognizance and pledge of love + Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand: + It was a handkerchief, an antique token + My father gave my mother. + +EMILIA O heaven! O heavenly powers! + +IAGO Come, hold your peace. + +EMILIA 'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace! + No, I will speak as liberal as the north: + Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, + All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. + +IAGO Be wise, and get you home. + +EMILIA I will not. + + [IAGO offers to stab EMILIA] + +GRATIANO Fie! + Your sword upon a woman? + +EMILIA O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of + I found by fortune and did give my husband; + For often, with a solemn earnestness, + More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle, + He begg'd of me to steal it. + +IAGO Villanous whore! + +EMILIA She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it, + And I did give't my husband. + +IAGO Filth, thou liest! + +EMILIA By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen. + O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool + Do with so good a woman? + +OTHELLO Are there no stones in heaven + But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain! + + [He runs at IAGO IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit] + +GRATIANO The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife. + +EMILIA Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side. + +GRATIANO He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. + +MONTANO 'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon, + Which I have here recover'd from the Moor: + Come, guard the door without; let him not pass, + But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain, + For 'tis a damned slave. + + [Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO] + +OTHELLO I am not valiant neither, + But ever puny whipster gets my sword: + But why should honour outlive honesty? + Let it go all. + +EMILIA What did thy song bode, lady? + Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan. + And die in music. + + [Singing] + + Willow, willow, willow,-- + Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor; + So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true; + So speaking as I think, I die, I die. + + [Dies] + +OTHELLO I have another weapon in this chamber; + It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:-- + O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth. + +GRATIANO [Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear: + Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer. + +OTHELLO Look in upon me then and speak with me, + Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. + + [Re-enter GRATIANO] + +GRATIANO What is the matter? + +OTHELLO Behold, I have a weapon; + A better never did itself sustain + Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, + That, with this little arm and this good sword, + I have made my way through more impediments + Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast! + Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now. + Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; + Here is my journey's end, here is my butt, + And very sea-mark of my utmost sail. + Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear; + Man but a rush against Othello's breast, + And he retires. Where should Othello go? + Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench! + Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt, + This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, + And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl! + Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave! + Whip me, ye devils, + From the possession of this heavenly sight! + Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur! + Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! + O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead! + Oh! Oh! Oh! + + [Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, + and Officers with IAGO, prisoner] + +LODOVICO Where is this rash and most unfortunate man? + +OTHELLO That's he that was Othello: here I am. + +LODOVICO Where is that viper? bring the villain forth. + +OTHELLO I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable. + If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee. + + [Wounds IAGO] + +LODOVICO Wrench his sword from him. + +IAGO I bleed, sir; but not kill'd. + +OTHELLO I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live; + For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. + +LODOVICO O thou Othello, thou wert once so good, + Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave, + What shall be said to thee? + +OTHELLO Why, any thing: + An honourable murderer, if you will; + For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. + +LODOVICO This wretch hath part confess'd his villany: + Did you and he consent in Cassio's death? + +OTHELLO Ay. + +CASSIO Dear general, I never gave you cause. + +OTHELLO I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. + Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil + Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body? + +IAGO Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: + From this time forth I never will speak word. + +LODOVICO What, not to pray? + +GRATIANO Torments will ope your lips. + +OTHELLO Well, thou dost best. + +LODOVICO Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, + Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter + Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo; + And here another: the one of them imports + The death of Cassio to be undertook + By Roderigo. + +OTHELLO O villain! + +CASSIO Most heathenish and most gross! + +LODOVICO Now here's another discontented paper, + Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems, + Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain; + But that belike Iago in the interim + Came in and satisfied him. + +OTHELLO O the pernicious caitiff! + How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief + That was my wife's? + +CASSIO I found it in my chamber: + And he himself confess'd but even now + That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose + Which wrought to his desire. + +OTHELLO O fool! fool! fool! + +CASSIO There is besides in Roderigo's letter, + How he upbraids Iago, that he made him + Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came + That I was cast: and even but now he spake, + After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him, + Iago set him on. + +LODOVICO You must forsake this room, and go with us: + Your power and your command is taken off, + And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave, + If there be any cunning cruelty + That can torment him much and hold him long, + It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest, + Till that the nature of your fault be known + To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away. + +OTHELLO Soft you; a word or two before you go. + I have done the state some service, and they know't. + No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, + When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, + Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, + Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak + Of one that loved not wisely but too well; + Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought + Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand, + Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away + Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes, + Albeit unused to the melting mood, + Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees + Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; + And say besides, that in Aleppo once, + Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk + Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, + I took by the throat the circumcised dog, + And smote him, thus. + + [Stabs himself] + +LODOVICO O bloody period! + +GRATIANO All that's spoke is marr'd. + +OTHELLO I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this; + Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. + + [Falls on the bed, and dies] + +CASSIO This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon; + For he was great of heart. + +LODOVICO [To IAGO] O Spartan dog, + More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea! + Look on the tragic loading of this bed; + This is thy work: the object poisons sight; + Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house, + And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, + For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor, + Remains the censure of this hellish villain; + The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it! + Myself will straight aboard: and to the state + This heavy act with heavy heart relate. + + [Exeunt] + ROMEO AND JULIET + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +ESCALUS prince of Verona. (PRINCE:) + +PARIS a young nobleman, kinsman to the prince. + + +MONTAGUE | + | heads of two houses at variance with each other. +CAPULET | + + + An old man, cousin to Capulet. (Second Capulet:) + +ROMEO son to Montague. + +MERCUTIO kinsman to the prince, and friend to Romeo. + +BENVOLIO nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo. + +TYBALT nephew to Lady Capulet. + + +FRIAR LAURENCE | + | Franciscans. +FRIAR JOHN | + + +BALTHASAR servant to Romeo. + + +SAMPSON | + | servants to Capulet. +GREGORY | + + +PETER servant to Juliet's nurse. + +ABRAHAM servant to Montague. + + An Apothecary. (Apothecary:) + + Three Musicians. + (First Musician:) + (Second Musician:) + (Third Musician:) + + Page to Paris; (PAGE:) another Page; an officer. + +LADY MONTAGUE wife to Montague. + +LADY CAPULET wife to Capulet. + +JULIET daughter to Capulet. + + Nurse to Juliet. (Nurse:) + + Citizens of Verona; several Men and Women, + relations to both houses; Maskers, + Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants. + (First Citizen:) + (Servant:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + (First Watchman:) + (Second Watchman:) + (Third Watchman:) + Chorus. + + +SCENE Verona: Mantua. + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + PROLOGUE + + + Two households, both alike in dignity, + In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, + From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, + Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. + From forth the fatal loins of these two foes + A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; + Whole misadventured piteous overthrows + Do with their death bury their parents' strife. + The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, + And the continuance of their parents' rage, + Which, but their children's end, nought could remove, + Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; + The which if you with patient ears attend, + What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Verona. A public place. + + + [Enter SAMPSON and GREGORY, of the house of Capulet, + armed with swords and bucklers] + +SAMPSON Gregory, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. + +GREGORY No, for then we should be colliers. + +SAMPSON I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. + +GREGORY Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. + +SAMPSON I strike quickly, being moved. + +GREGORY But thou art not quickly moved to strike. + +SAMPSON A dog of the house of Montague moves me. + +GREGORY To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: + therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. + +SAMPSON A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will + take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. + +GREGORY That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes + to the wall. + +SAMPSON True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, + are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push + Montague's men from the wall, and thrust his maids + to the wall. + +GREGORY The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. + +SAMPSON 'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I + have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the + maids, and cut off their heads. + +GREGORY The heads of the maids? + +SAMPSON Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; + take it in what sense thou wilt. + +GREGORY They must take it in sense that feel it. + +SAMPSON Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and + 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. + +GREGORY 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou + hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes + two of the house of the Montagues. + +SAMPSON My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee. + +GREGORY How! turn thy back and run? + +SAMPSON Fear me not. + +GREGORY No, marry; I fear thee! + +SAMPSON Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. + +GREGORY I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as + they list. + +SAMPSON Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; + which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. + + [Enter ABRAHAM and BALTHASAR] + +ABRAHAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON I do bite my thumb, sir. + +ABRAHAM Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? + +SAMPSON [Aside to GREGORY] Is the law of our side, if I say + ay? + +GREGORY No. + +SAMPSON No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir, but I + bite my thumb, sir. + +GREGORY Do you quarrel, sir? + +ABRAHAM Quarrel sir! no, sir. + +SAMPSON If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you. + +ABRAHAM No better. + +SAMPSON Well, sir. + +GREGORY Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. + +SAMPSON Yes, better, sir. + +ABRAHAM You lie. + +SAMPSON Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. + + [They fight] + + [Enter BENVOLIO] + +BENVOLIO Part, fools! + Put up your swords; you know not what you do. + + [Beats down their swords] + + [Enter TYBALT] + +TYBALT What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? + Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. + +BENVOLIO I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword, + Or manage it to part these men with me. + +TYBALT What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, + As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee: + Have at thee, coward! + + [They fight] + + [Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; + then enter Citizens, with clubs] + +First Citizen Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down! + Down with the Capulets! down with the Montagues! + + [Enter CAPULET in his gown, and LADY CAPULET] + +CAPULET What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! + +LADY CAPULET A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword? + +CAPULET My sword, I say! Old Montague is come, + And flourishes his blade in spite of me. + + [Enter MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE] + +MONTAGUE Thou villain Capulet,--Hold me not, let me go. + +LADY MONTAGUE Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. + + [Enter PRINCE, with Attendants] + +PRINCE Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, + Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- + Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, + That quench the fire of your pernicious rage + With purple fountains issuing from your veins, + On pain of torture, from those bloody hands + Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, + And hear the sentence of your moved prince. + Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, + By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, + Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, + And made Verona's ancient citizens + Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, + To wield old partisans, in hands as old, + Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: + If ever you disturb our streets again, + Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. + For this time, all the rest depart away: + You Capulet; shall go along with me: + And, Montague, come you this afternoon, + To know our further pleasure in this case, + To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. + Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. + + [Exeunt all but MONTAGUE, LADY MONTAGUE, and BENVOLIO] + +MONTAGUE Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? + Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? + +BENVOLIO Here were the servants of your adversary, + And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: + I drew to part them: in the instant came + The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared, + Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, + He swung about his head and cut the winds, + Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: + While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, + Came more and more and fought on part and part, + Till the prince came, who parted either part. + +LADY MONTAGUE O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day? + Right glad I am he was not at this fray. + +BENVOLIO Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun + Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, + A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; + Where, underneath the grove of sycamore + That westward rooteth from the city's side, + So early walking did I see your son: + Towards him I made, but he was ware of me + And stole into the covert of the wood: + I, measuring his affections by my own, + That most are busied when they're most alone, + Pursued my humour not pursuing his, + And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. + +MONTAGUE Many a morning hath he there been seen, + With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. + Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; + But all so soon as the all-cheering sun + Should in the furthest east begin to draw + The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, + Away from the light steals home my heavy son, + And private in his chamber pens himself, + Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out + And makes himself an artificial night: + Black and portentous must this humour prove, + Unless good counsel may the cause remove. + +BENVOLIO My noble uncle, do you know the cause? + +MONTAGUE I neither know it nor can learn of him. + +BENVOLIO Have you importuned him by any means? + +MONTAGUE Both by myself and many other friends: + But he, his own affections' counsellor, + Is to himself--I will not say how true-- + But to himself so secret and so close, + So far from sounding and discovery, + As is the bud bit with an envious worm, + Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, + Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. + Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. + We would as willingly give cure as know. + + [Enter ROMEO] + +BENVOLIO See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; + I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. + +MONTAGUE I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, + To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away. + + [Exeunt MONTAGUE and LADY MONTAGUE] + +BENVOLIO Good-morrow, cousin. + +ROMEO Is the day so young? + +BENVOLIO But new struck nine. + +ROMEO Ay me! sad hours seem long. + Was that my father that went hence so fast? + +BENVOLIO It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? + +ROMEO Not having that, which, having, makes them short. + +BENVOLIO In love? + +ROMEO Out-- + +BENVOLIO Of love? + +ROMEO Out of her favour, where I am in love. + +BENVOLIO Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, + Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! + +ROMEO Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, + Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! + Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? + Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. + Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. + Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! + O any thing, of nothing first create! + O heavy lightness! serious vanity! + Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! + Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, + sick health! + Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! + This love feel I, that feel no love in this. + Dost thou not laugh? + +BENVOLIO No, coz, I rather weep. + +ROMEO Good heart, at what? + +BENVOLIO At thy good heart's oppression. + +ROMEO Why, such is love's transgression. + Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, + Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest + With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown + Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. + Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; + Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; + Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: + What is it else? a madness most discreet, + A choking gall and a preserving sweet. + Farewell, my coz. + +BENVOLIO Soft! I will go along; + An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. + +ROMEO Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; + This is not Romeo, he's some other where. + +BENVOLIO Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. + +ROMEO What, shall I groan and tell thee? + +BENVOLIO Groan! why, no. + But sadly tell me who. + +ROMEO Bid a sick man in sadness make his will: + Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! + In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. + +BENVOLIO I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. + +ROMEO A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. + +BENVOLIO A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. + +ROMEO Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit + With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit; + And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, + From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. + She will not stay the siege of loving terms, + Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, + Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: + O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, + That when she dies with beauty dies her store. + +BENVOLIO Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? + +ROMEO She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, + For beauty starved with her severity + Cuts beauty off from all posterity. + She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, + To merit bliss by making me despair: + She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow + Do I live dead that live to tell it now. + +BENVOLIO Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. + +ROMEO O, teach me how I should forget to think. + +BENVOLIO By giving liberty unto thine eyes; + Examine other beauties. + +ROMEO 'Tis the way + To call hers exquisite, in question more: + These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows + Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; + He that is strucken blind cannot forget + The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: + Show me a mistress that is passing fair, + What doth her beauty serve, but as a note + Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? + Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. + +BENVOLIO I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A street. + + + [Enter CAPULET, PARIS, and Servant] + +CAPULET But Montague is bound as well as I, + In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, + For men so old as we to keep the peace. + +PARIS Of honourable reckoning are you both; + And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long. + But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? + +CAPULET But saying o'er what I have said before: + My child is yet a stranger in the world; + She hath not seen the change of fourteen years, + Let two more summers wither in their pride, + Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. + +PARIS Younger than she are happy mothers made. + +CAPULET And too soon marr'd are those so early made. + The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she, + She is the hopeful lady of my earth: + But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, + My will to her consent is but a part; + An she agree, within her scope of choice + Lies my consent and fair according voice. + This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, + Whereto I have invited many a guest, + Such as I love; and you, among the store, + One more, most welcome, makes my number more. + At my poor house look to behold this night + Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light: + Such comfort as do lusty young men feel + When well-apparell'd April on the heel + Of limping winter treads, even such delight + Among fresh female buds shall you this night + Inherit at my house; hear all, all see, + And like her most whose merit most shall be: + Which on more view, of many mine being one + May stand in number, though in reckoning none, + Come, go with me. + + [To Servant, giving a paper] + + Go, sirrah, trudge about + Through fair Verona; find those persons out + Whose names are written there, and to them say, + My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. + + [Exeunt CAPULET and PARIS] + +Servant Find them out whose names are written here! It is + written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his + yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with + his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am + sent to find those persons whose names are here + writ, and can never find what names the writing + person hath here writ. I must to the learned.--In good time. + + [Enter BENVOLIO and ROMEO] + +BENVOLIO Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning, + One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish; + Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; + One desperate grief cures with another's languish: + Take thou some new infection to thy eye, + And the rank poison of the old will die. + +ROMEO Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that. + +BENVOLIO For what, I pray thee? + +ROMEO For your broken shin. + +BENVOLIO Why, Romeo, art thou mad? + +ROMEO Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; + Shut up in prison, kept without my food, + Whipp'd and tormented and--God-den, good fellow. + +Servant God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read? + +ROMEO Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. + +Servant Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I + pray, can you read any thing you see? + +ROMEO Ay, if I know the letters and the language. + +Servant Ye say honestly: rest you merry! + +ROMEO Stay, fellow; I can read. + + [Reads] + + 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; + County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady + widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely + nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; mine + uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters; my fair niece + Rosaline; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin + Tybalt, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair + assembly: whither should they come? + +Servant Up. + +ROMEO Whither? + +Servant To supper; to our house. + +ROMEO Whose house? + +Servant My master's. + +ROMEO Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before. + +Servant Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the + great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house + of Montagues, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine. + Rest you merry! + + [Exit] + +BENVOLIO At this same ancient feast of Capulet's + Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lovest, + With all the admired beauties of Verona: + Go thither; and, with unattainted eye, + Compare her face with some that I shall show, + And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. + +ROMEO When the devout religion of mine eye + Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; + And these, who often drown'd could never die, + Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! + One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun + Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. + +BENVOLIO Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by, + Herself poised with herself in either eye: + But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd + Your lady's love against some other maid + That I will show you shining at this feast, + And she shall scant show well that now shows best. + +ROMEO I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, + But to rejoice in splendor of mine own. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE III A room in Capulet's house. + + + [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse] + +LADY CAPULET Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. + +Nurse Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, + I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! + God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! + + [Enter JULIET] + +JULIET How now! who calls? + +Nurse Your mother. + +JULIET Madam, I am here. + What is your will? + +LADY CAPULET This is the matter:--Nurse, give leave awhile, + We must talk in secret:--nurse, come back again; + I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel. + Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age. + +Nurse Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. + +LADY CAPULET She's not fourteen. + +Nurse I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-- + And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-- + She is not fourteen. How long is it now + To Lammas-tide? + +LADY CAPULET A fortnight and odd days. + +Nurse Even or odd, of all days in the year, + Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. + Susan and she--God rest all Christian souls!-- + Were of an age: well, Susan is with God; + She was too good for me: but, as I said, + On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen; + That shall she, marry; I remember it well. + 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; + And she was wean'd,--I never shall forget it,-- + Of all the days of the year, upon that day: + For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, + Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall; + My lord and you were then at Mantua:-- + Nay, I do bear a brain:--but, as I said, + When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple + Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, + To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! + Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow, + To bid me trudge: + And since that time it is eleven years; + For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood, + She could have run and waddled all about; + For even the day before, she broke her brow: + And then my husband--God be with his soul! + A' was a merry man--took up the child: + 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, + The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.' + To see, now, how a jest shall come about! + I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, + I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he; + And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +LADY CAPULET Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace. + +Nurse Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh, + To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.' + And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow + A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone; + A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly: + 'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face? + Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; + Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.' + +JULIET And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. + +Nurse Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! + Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: + An I might live to see thee married once, + I have my wish. + +LADY CAPULET Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme + I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, + How stands your disposition to be married? + +JULIET It is an honour that I dream not of. + +Nurse An honour! were not I thine only nurse, + I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. + +LADY CAPULET Well, think of marriage now; younger than you, + Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, + Are made already mothers: by my count, + I was your mother much upon these years + That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: + The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. + +Nurse A man, young lady! lady, such a man + As all the world--why, he's a man of wax. + +LADY CAPULET Verona's summer hath not such a flower. + +Nurse Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower. + +LADY CAPULET What say you? can you love the gentleman? + This night you shall behold him at our feast; + Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, + And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; + Examine every married lineament, + And see how one another lends content + And what obscured in this fair volume lies + Find written in the margent of his eyes. + This precious book of love, this unbound lover, + To beautify him, only lacks a cover: + The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride + For fair without the fair within to hide: + That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, + That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; + So shall you share all that he doth possess, + By having him, making yourself no less. + +Nurse No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men. + +LADY CAPULET Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? + +JULIET I'll look to like, if looking liking move: + But no more deep will I endart mine eye + Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you + called, my young lady asked for, the nurse cursed in + the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must + hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight. + +LADY CAPULET We follow thee. + + [Exit Servant] + + Juliet, the county stays. + +Nurse Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE IV A street. + + + [Enter ROMEO, MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, with five or six + Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others] + +ROMEO What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? + Or shall we on without a apology? + +BENVOLIO The date is out of such prolixity: + We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, + Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, + Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; + Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke + After the prompter, for our entrance: + But let them measure us by what they will; + We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. + +ROMEO Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; + Being but heavy, I will bear the light. + +MERCUTIO Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. + +ROMEO Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes + With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead + So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. + +MERCUTIO You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, + And soar with them above a common bound. + +ROMEO I am too sore enpierced with his shaft + To soar with his light feathers, and so bound, + I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: + Under love's heavy burden do I sink. + +MERCUTIO And, to sink in it, should you burden love; + Too great oppression for a tender thing. + +ROMEO Is love a tender thing? it is too rough, + Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. + +MERCUTIO If love be rough with you, be rough with love; + Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. + Give me a case to put my visage in: + A visor for a visor! what care I + What curious eye doth quote deformities? + Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. + +BENVOLIO Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, + But every man betake him to his legs. + +ROMEO A torch for me: let wantons light of heart + Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, + For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase; + I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. + The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. + +MERCUTIO Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word: + If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire + Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st + Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! + +ROMEO Nay, that's not so. + +MERCUTIO I mean, sir, in delay + We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. + Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits + Five times in that ere once in our five wits. + +ROMEO And we mean well in going to this mask; + But 'tis no wit to go. + +MERCUTIO Why, may one ask? + +ROMEO I dream'd a dream to-night. + +MERCUTIO And so did I. + +ROMEO Well, what was yours? + +MERCUTIO That dreamers often lie. + +ROMEO In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. + +MERCUTIO O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. + She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes + In shape no bigger than an agate-stone + On the fore-finger of an alderman, + Drawn with a team of little atomies + Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; + Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs, + The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, + The traces of the smallest spider's web, + The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, + Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, + Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat, + Not so big as a round little worm + Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; + Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut + Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, + Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. + And in this state she gallops night by night + Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; + O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, + O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, + O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream, + Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, + Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: + Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, + And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; + And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail + Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep, + Then dreams, he of another benefice: + Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, + And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, + Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, + Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon + Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, + And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two + And sleeps again. This is that very Mab + That plats the manes of horses in the night, + And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, + Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes: + This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, + That presses them and learns them first to bear, + Making them women of good carriage: + This is she-- + +ROMEO Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! + Thou talk'st of nothing. + +MERCUTIO True, I talk of dreams, + Which are the children of an idle brain, + Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, + Which is as thin of substance as the air + And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes + Even now the frozen bosom of the north, + And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, + Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. + +BENVOLIO This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; + Supper is done, and we shall come too late. + +ROMEO I fear, too early: for my mind misgives + Some consequence yet hanging in the stars + Shall bitterly begin his fearful date + With this night's revels and expire the term + Of a despised life closed in my breast + By some vile forfeit of untimely death. + But He, that hath the steerage of my course, + Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen. + +BENVOLIO Strike, drum. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE V A hall in Capulet's house. + + + [Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins] + +First Servant Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He + shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher! + +Second Servant When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's + hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing. + +First Servant Away with the joint-stools, remove the + court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save + me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let + the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. + Antony, and Potpan! + +Second Servant Ay, boy, ready. + +First Servant You are looked for and called for, asked for and + sought for, in the great chamber. + +Second Servant We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be + brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. + + [Enter CAPULET, with JULIET and others of his house, + meeting the Guests and Maskers] + +CAPULET Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes + Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you. + Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all + Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty, + She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now? + Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day + That I have worn a visor and could tell + A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, + Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone: + You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play. + A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. + + [Music plays, and they dance] + + More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up, + And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. + Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. + Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet; + For you and I are past our dancing days: + How long is't now since last yourself and I + Were in a mask? + +Second Capulet By'r lady, thirty years. + +CAPULET What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much: + 'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio, + Come pentecost as quickly as it will, + Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd. + +Second Capulet 'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir; + His son is thirty. + +CAPULET Will you tell me that? + His son was but a ward two years ago. + +ROMEO [To a Servingman] What lady is that, which doth + enrich the hand + Of yonder knight? + +Servant I know not, sir. + +ROMEO O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! + It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night + Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; + Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! + So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, + As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. + The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, + And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. + Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! + For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. + +TYBALT This, by his voice, should be a Montague. + Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave + Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, + To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? + Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, + To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin. + +CAPULET Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so? + +TYBALT Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe, + A villain that is hither come in spite, + To scorn at our solemnity this night. + +CAPULET Young Romeo is it? + +TYBALT 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. + +CAPULET Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone; + He bears him like a portly gentleman; + And, to say truth, Verona brags of him + To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth: + I would not for the wealth of all the town + Here in my house do him disparagement: + Therefore be patient, take no note of him: + It is my will, the which if thou respect, + Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, + And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. + +TYBALT It fits, when such a villain is a guest: + I'll not endure him. + +CAPULET He shall be endured: + What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to; + Am I the master here, or you? go to. + You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul! + You'll make a mutiny among my guests! + You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! + +TYBALT Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. + +CAPULET Go to, go to; + You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed? + This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what: + You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time. + Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go: + Be quiet, or--More light, more light! For shame! + I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts! + +TYBALT Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting + Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. + I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall + Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall. + + [Exit] + +ROMEO [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand + This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: + My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand + To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. + +JULIET Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, + Which mannerly devotion shows in this; + For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, + And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. + +ROMEO Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? + +JULIET Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. + +ROMEO O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; + They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. + +JULIET Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. + +ROMEO Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. + Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. + +JULIET Then have my lips the sin that they have took. + +ROMEO Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! + Give me my sin again. + +JULIET You kiss by the book. + +Nurse Madam, your mother craves a word with you. + +ROMEO What is her mother? + +Nurse Marry, bachelor, + Her mother is the lady of the house, + And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous + I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal; + I tell you, he that can lay hold of her + Shall have the chinks. + +ROMEO Is she a Capulet? + O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. + +BENVOLIO Away, begone; the sport is at the best. + +ROMEO Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. + +CAPULET Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; + We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. + Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all + I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night. + More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed. + Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: + I'll to my rest. + + [Exeunt all but JULIET and Nurse] + +JULIET Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? + +Nurse The son and heir of old Tiberio. + +JULIET What's he that now is going out of door? + +Nurse Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio. + +JULIET What's he that follows there, that would not dance? + +Nurse I know not. + +JULIET Go ask his name: if he be married. + My grave is like to be my wedding bed. + +Nurse His name is Romeo, and a Montague; + The only son of your great enemy. + +JULIET My only love sprung from my only hate! + Too early seen unknown, and known too late! + Prodigious birth of love it is to me, + That I must love a loathed enemy. + +Nurse What's this? what's this? + +JULIET A rhyme I learn'd even now + Of one I danced withal. + + [One calls within 'Juliet.'] + +Nurse Anon, anon! + Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + PROLOGUE + + + [Enter Chorus] + +Chorus Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, + And young affection gapes to be his heir; + That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, + With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. + Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, + Alike betwitched by the charm of looks, + But to his foe supposed he must complain, + And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks: + Being held a foe, he may not have access + To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear; + And she as much in love, her means much less + To meet her new-beloved any where: + But passion lends them power, time means, to meet + Tempering extremities with extreme sweet. + + [Exit] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard. + + + [Enter ROMEO] + +ROMEO Can I go forward when my heart is here? + Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. + + [He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it] + + [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO] + +BENVOLIO Romeo! my cousin Romeo! + +MERCUTIO He is wise; + And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed. + +BENVOLIO He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall: + Call, good Mercutio. + +MERCUTIO Nay, I'll conjure too. + Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! + Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh: + Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied; + Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;' + Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, + One nick-name for her purblind son and heir, + Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, + When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid! + He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not; + The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. + I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes, + By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, + By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh + And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, + That in thy likeness thou appear to us! + +BENVOLIO And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. + +MERCUTIO This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him + To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle + Of some strange nature, letting it there stand + Till she had laid it and conjured it down; + That were some spite: my invocation + Is fair and honest, and in his mistress' name + I conjure only but to raise up him. + +BENVOLIO Come, he hath hid himself among these trees, + To be consorted with the humorous night: + Blind is his love and best befits the dark. + +MERCUTIO If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. + Now will he sit under a medlar tree, + And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit + As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone. + Romeo, that she were, O, that she were + An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear! + Romeo, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed; + This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep: + Come, shall we go? + +BENVOLIO Go, then; for 'tis in vain + To seek him here that means not to be found. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II Capulet's orchard. + + + [Enter ROMEO] + +ROMEO He jests at scars that never felt a wound. + + [JULIET appears above at a window] + + But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? + It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. + Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, + Who is already sick and pale with grief, + That thou her maid art far more fair than she: + Be not her maid, since she is envious; + Her vestal livery is but sick and green + And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. + It is my lady, O, it is my love! + O, that she knew she were! + She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? + Her eye discourses; I will answer it. + I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: + Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, + Having some business, do entreat her eyes + To twinkle in their spheres till they return. + What if her eyes were there, they in her head? + The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, + As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven + Would through the airy region stream so bright + That birds would sing and think it were not night. + See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! + O, that I were a glove upon that hand, + That I might touch that cheek! + +JULIET Ay me! + +ROMEO She speaks: + O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art + As glorious to this night, being o'er my head + As is a winged messenger of heaven + Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes + Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him + When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds + And sails upon the bosom of the air. + +JULIET O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? + Deny thy father and refuse thy name; + Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, + And I'll no longer be a Capulet. + +ROMEO [Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? + +JULIET 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; + Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. + What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, + Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part + Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! + What's in a name? that which we call a rose + By any other name would smell as sweet; + So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, + Retain that dear perfection which he owes + Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, + And for that name which is no part of thee + Take all myself. + +ROMEO I take thee at thy word: + Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; + Henceforth I never will be Romeo. + +JULIET What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night + So stumblest on my counsel? + +ROMEO By a name + I know not how to tell thee who I am: + My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, + Because it is an enemy to thee; + Had I it written, I would tear the word. + +JULIET My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words + Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: + Art thou not Romeo and a Montague? + +ROMEO Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. + +JULIET How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? + The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, + And the place death, considering who thou art, + If any of my kinsmen find thee here. + +ROMEO With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; + For stony limits cannot hold love out, + And what love can do that dares love attempt; + Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. + +JULIET If they do see thee, they will murder thee. + +ROMEO Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye + Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, + And I am proof against their enmity. + +JULIET I would not for the world they saw thee here. + +ROMEO I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; + And but thou love me, let them find me here: + My life were better ended by their hate, + Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. + +JULIET By whose direction found'st thou out this place? + +ROMEO By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; + He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes. + I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far + As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, + I would adventure for such merchandise. + +JULIET Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, + Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek + For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night + Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny + What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! + Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' + And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, + Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries + Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, + If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: + Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, + I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, + So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. + In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, + And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: + But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true + Than those that have more cunning to be strange. + I should have been more strange, I must confess, + But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, + My true love's passion: therefore pardon me, + And not impute this yielding to light love, + Which the dark night hath so discovered. + +ROMEO Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear + That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-- + +JULIET O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, + That monthly changes in her circled orb, + Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. + +ROMEO What shall I swear by? + +JULIET Do not swear at all; + Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, + Which is the god of my idolatry, + And I'll believe thee. + +ROMEO If my heart's dear love-- + +JULIET Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, + I have no joy of this contract to-night: + It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; + Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be + Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! + This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, + May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. + Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest + Come to thy heart as that within my breast! + +ROMEO O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? + +JULIET What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? + +ROMEO The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. + +JULIET I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: + And yet I would it were to give again. + +ROMEO Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love? + +JULIET But to be frank, and give it thee again. + And yet I wish but for the thing I have: + My bounty is as boundless as the sea, + My love as deep; the more I give to thee, + The more I have, for both are infinite. + + [Nurse calls within] + + I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! + Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. + Stay but a little, I will come again. + + [Exit, above] + +ROMEO O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. + Being in night, all this is but a dream, + Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. + + [Re-enter JULIET, above] + +JULIET Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. + If that thy bent of love be honourable, + Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, + By one that I'll procure to come to thee, + Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; + And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay + And follow thee my lord throughout the world. + +Nurse [Within] Madam! + +JULIET I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well, + I do beseech thee-- + +Nurse [Within] Madam! + +JULIET By and by, I come:-- + To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: + To-morrow will I send. + +ROMEO So thrive my soul-- + +JULIET A thousand times good night! + + [Exit, above] + +ROMEO A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. + Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from + their books, + But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. + + [Retiring] + + [Re-enter JULIET, above] + +JULIET Hist! Romeo, hist! O, for a falconer's voice, + To lure this tassel-gentle back again! + Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; + Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, + And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, + With repetition of my Romeo's name. + +ROMEO It is my soul that calls upon my name: + How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, + Like softest music to attending ears! + +JULIET Romeo! + +ROMEO My dear? + +JULIET At what o'clock to-morrow + Shall I send to thee? + +ROMEO At the hour of nine. + +JULIET I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then. + I have forgot why I did call thee back. + +ROMEO Let me stand here till thou remember it. + +JULIET I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, + Remembering how I love thy company. + +ROMEO And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, + Forgetting any other home but this. + +JULIET 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: + And yet no further than a wanton's bird; + Who lets it hop a little from her hand, + Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, + And with a silk thread plucks it back again, + So loving-jealous of his liberty. + +ROMEO I would I were thy bird. + +JULIET Sweet, so would I: + Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. + Good night, good night! parting is such + sweet sorrow, + That I shall say good night till it be morrow. + + [Exit above] + +ROMEO Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! + Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! + Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, + His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. + + [Exit] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III Friar Laurence's cell. + + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE, with a basket] + +FRIAR LAURENCE The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, + Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light, + And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels + From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels: + Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye, + The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, + I must up-fill this osier cage of ours + With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. + The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb; + What is her burying grave that is her womb, + And from her womb children of divers kind + We sucking on her natural bosom find, + Many for many virtues excellent, + None but for some and yet all different. + O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies + In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: + For nought so vile that on the earth doth live + But to the earth some special good doth give, + Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use + Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse: + Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; + And vice sometimes by action dignified. + Within the infant rind of this small flower + Poison hath residence and medicine power: + For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; + Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. + Two such opposed kings encamp them still + In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will; + And where the worser is predominant, + Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. + + [Enter ROMEO] + +ROMEO Good morrow, father. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Benedicite! + What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? + Young son, it argues a distemper'd head + So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: + Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, + And where care lodges, sleep will never lie; + But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain + Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign: + Therefore thy earliness doth me assure + Thou art up-roused by some distemperature; + Or if not so, then here I hit it right, + Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. + +ROMEO That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE God pardon sin! wast thou with Rosaline? + +ROMEO With Rosaline, my ghostly father? no; + I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then? + +ROMEO I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again. + I have been feasting with mine enemy, + Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, + That's by me wounded: both our remedies + Within thy help and holy physic lies: + I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, + My intercession likewise steads my foe. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift; + Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. + +ROMEO Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set + On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: + As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; + And all combined, save what thou must combine + By holy marriage: when and where and how + We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow, + I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, + That thou consent to marry us to-day. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here! + Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, + So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies + Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. + Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine + Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! + How much salt water thrown away in waste, + To season love, that of it doth not taste! + The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, + Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears; + Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit + Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: + If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine, + Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline: + And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then, + Women may fall, when there's no strength in men. + +ROMEO Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. + +FRIAR LAURENCE For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. + +ROMEO And bad'st me bury love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Not in a grave, + To lay one in, another out to have. + +ROMEO I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now + Doth grace for grace and love for love allow; + The other did not so. + +FRIAR LAURENCE O, she knew well + Thy love did read by rote and could not spell. + But come, young waverer, come, go with me, + In one respect I'll thy assistant be; + For this alliance may so happy prove, + To turn your households' rancour to pure love. + +ROMEO O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV A street. + + + [Enter BENVOLIO and MERCUTIO] + +MERCUTIO Where the devil should this Romeo be? + Came he not home to-night? + +BENVOLIO Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. + +MERCUTIO Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline. + Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. + +BENVOLIO Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, + Hath sent a letter to his father's house. + +MERCUTIO A challenge, on my life. + +BENVOLIO Romeo will answer it. + +MERCUTIO Any man that can write may answer a letter. + +BENVOLIO Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he + dares, being dared. + +MERCUTIO Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead; stabbed with a + white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a + love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the + blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to + encounter Tybalt? + +BENVOLIO Why, what is Tybalt? + +MERCUTIO More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is + the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as + you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and + proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and + the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk + button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the + very first house, of the first and second cause: + ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the + hai! + +BENVOLIO The what? + +MERCUTIO The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting + fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu, + a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good + whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, + grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with + these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these + perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form, + that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their + bones, their bones! + + [Enter ROMEO] + +BENVOLIO Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo. + +MERCUTIO Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh, + how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers + that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a + kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to + be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy; + Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey + eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior + Romeo, bon jour! there's a French salutation + to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit + fairly last night. + +ROMEO Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? + +MERCUTIO The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive? + +ROMEO Pardon, good Mercutio, my business was great; and in + such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. + +MERCUTIO That's as much as to say, such a case as yours + constrains a man to bow in the hams. + +ROMEO Meaning, to court'sy. + +MERCUTIO Thou hast most kindly hit it. + +ROMEO A most courteous exposition. + +MERCUTIO Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. + +ROMEO Pink for flower. + +MERCUTIO Right. + +ROMEO Why, then is my pump well flowered. + +MERCUTIO Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast + worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it + is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular. + +ROMEO O single-soled jest, solely singular for the + singleness. + +MERCUTIO Come between us, good Benvolio; my wits faint. + +ROMEO Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match. + +MERCUTIO Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have + done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of + thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five: + was I with you there for the goose? + +ROMEO Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast + not there for the goose. + +MERCUTIO I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. + +ROMEO Nay, good goose, bite not. + +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? + +MERCUTIO O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an + inch narrow to an ell broad! + +ROMEO I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added + to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. + +MERCUTIO Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? + now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art + thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature: + for this drivelling love is like a great natural, + that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. + +BENVOLIO Stop there, stop there. + +MERCUTIO Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. + +BENVOLIO Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. + +MERCUTIO O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short: + for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and + meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer. + +ROMEO Here's goodly gear! + + [Enter Nurse and PETER] + +MERCUTIO A sail, a sail! + +BENVOLIO Two, two; a shirt and a smock. + +Nurse Peter! + +PETER Anon! + +Nurse My fan, Peter. + +MERCUTIO Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the + fairer face. + +Nurse God ye good morrow, gentlemen. + +MERCUTIO God ye good den, fair gentlewoman. + +Nurse Is it good den? + +MERCUTIO 'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the + dial is now upon the prick of noon. + +Nurse Out upon you! what a man are you! + +ROMEO One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to + mar. + +Nurse By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,' + quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I + may find the young Romeo? + +ROMEO I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when + you have found him than he was when you sought him: + I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. + +Nurse You say well. + +MERCUTIO Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith; + wisely, wisely. + +Nurse if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with + you. + +BENVOLIO She will indite him to some supper. + +MERCUTIO A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho! + +ROMEO What hast thou found? + +MERCUTIO No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, + that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent. + + [Sings] + + An old hare hoar, + And an old hare hoar, + Is very good meat in lent + But a hare that is hoar + Is too much for a score, + When it hoars ere it be spent. + Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll + to dinner, thither. + +ROMEO I will follow you. + +MERCUTIO Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, + + [Singing] + + 'lady, lady, lady.' + + [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO] + +Nurse Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy + merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery? + +ROMEO A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk, + and will speak more in a minute than he will stand + to in a month. + +Nurse An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him + down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such + Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. + Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am + none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by + too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure? + +PETER I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon + should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare + draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a + good quarrel, and the law on my side. + +Nurse Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about + me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word: + and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you + out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: + but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into + a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross + kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman + is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double + with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered + to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. + +ROMEO Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I + protest unto thee-- + +Nurse Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much: + Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman. + +ROMEO What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou dost not mark me. + +Nurse I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as + I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. + +ROMEO Bid her devise + Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; + And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell + Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains. + +Nurse No truly sir; not a penny. + +ROMEO Go to; I say you shall. + +Nurse This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there. + +ROMEO And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall: + Within this hour my man shall be with thee + And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair; + Which to the high top-gallant of my joy + Must be my convoy in the secret night. + Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains: + Farewell; commend me to thy mistress. + +Nurse Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. + +ROMEO What say'st thou, my dear nurse? + +Nurse Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, + Two may keep counsel, putting one away? + +ROMEO I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel. + +NURSE Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord, + Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there + is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain + lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief + see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her + sometimes and tell her that Paris is the properer + man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks + as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not + rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? + +ROMEO Ay, nurse; what of that? both with an R. + +Nurse Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; R is for + the--No; I know it begins with some other + letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of + it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good + to hear it. + +ROMEO Commend me to thy lady. + +Nurse Ay, a thousand times. + + [Exit Romeo] + Peter! + +PETER Anon! + +Nurse Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE V Capulet's orchard. + + + [Enter JULIET] + +JULIET The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; + In half an hour she promised to return. + Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so. + O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts, + Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, + Driving back shadows over louring hills: + Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, + And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. + Now is the sun upon the highmost hill + Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve + Is three long hours, yet she is not come. + Had she affections and warm youthful blood, + She would be as swift in motion as a ball; + My words would bandy her to my sweet love, + And his to me: + But old folks, many feign as they were dead; + Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. + O God, she comes! + + [Enter Nurse and PETER] + + O honey nurse, what news? + Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. + +Nurse Peter, stay at the gate. + + [Exit PETER] + +JULIET Now, good sweet nurse,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad? + Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; + If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news + By playing it to me with so sour a face. + +Nurse I am a-weary, give me leave awhile: + Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had! + +JULIET I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news: + Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good nurse, speak. + +Nurse Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile? + Do you not see that I am out of breath? + +JULIET How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath + To say to me that thou art out of breath? + The excuse that thou dost make in this delay + Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. + Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; + Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance: + Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? + +Nurse Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not + how to choose a man: Romeo! no, not he; though his + face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels + all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, + though they be not to be talked on, yet they are + past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy, + but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy + ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home? + +JULIET No, no: but all this did I know before. + What says he of our marriage? what of that? + +Nurse Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I! + It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. + My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back! + Beshrew your heart for sending me about, + To catch my death with jaunting up and down! + +JULIET I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. + Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? + +Nurse Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a + courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I + warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother? + +JULIET Where is my mother! why, she is within; + Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! + 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, + Where is your mother?' + +Nurse O God's lady dear! + Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow; + Is this the poultice for my aching bones? + Henceforward do your messages yourself. + +JULIET Here's such a coil! come, what says Romeo? + +Nurse Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? + +JULIET I have. + +Nurse Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; + There stays a husband to make you a wife: + Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks, + They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. + Hie you to church; I must another way, + To fetch a ladder, by the which your love + Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark: + I am the drudge and toil in your delight, + But you shall bear the burden soon at night. + Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell. + +JULIET Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE VI Friar Laurence's cell. + + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and ROMEO] + +FRIAR LAURENCE So smile the heavens upon this holy act, + That after hours with sorrow chide us not! + +ROMEO Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, + It cannot countervail the exchange of joy + That one short minute gives me in her sight: + Do thou but close our hands with holy words, + Then love-devouring death do what he dare; + It is enough I may but call her mine. + +FRIAR LAURENCE These violent delights have violent ends + And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, + Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey + Is loathsome in his own deliciousness + And in the taste confounds the appetite: + Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; + Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. + + [Enter JULIET] + + Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot + Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: + A lover may bestride the gossamer + That idles in the wanton summer air, + And yet not fall; so light is vanity. + +JULIET Good even to my ghostly confessor. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. + +JULIET As much to him, else is his thanks too much. + +ROMEO Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy + Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more + To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath + This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue + Unfold the imagined happiness that both + Receive in either by this dear encounter. + +JULIET Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, + Brags of his substance, not of ornament: + They are but beggars that can count their worth; + But my true love is grown to such excess + I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Come, come with me, and we will make short work; + For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone + Till holy church incorporate two in one. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A public place. + + + [Enter MERCUTIO, BENVOLIO, Page, and Servants] + +BENVOLIO I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire: + The day is hot, the Capulets abroad, + And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl; + For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. + +MERCUTIO Thou art like one of those fellows that when he + enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword + upon the table and says 'God send me no need of + thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws + it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. + +BENVOLIO Am I like such a fellow? + +MERCUTIO Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as + any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as + soon moody to be moved. + +BENVOLIO And what to? + +MERCUTIO Nay, an there were two such, we should have none + shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why, + thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, + or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou + wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no + other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what + eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? + Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of + meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as + an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a + man for coughing in the street, because he hath + wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun: + didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing + his new doublet before Easter? with another, for + tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou + wilt tutor me from quarrelling! + +BENVOLIO An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man + should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. + +MERCUTIO The fee-simple! O simple! + +BENVOLIO By my head, here come the Capulets. + +MERCUTIO By my heel, I care not. + + [Enter TYBALT and others] + +TYBALT Follow me close, for I will speak to them. + Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you. + +MERCUTIO And but one word with one of us? couple it with + something; make it a word and a blow. + +TYBALT You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you + will give me occasion. + +MERCUTIO Could you not take some occasion without giving? + +TYBALT Mercutio, thou consort'st with Romeo,-- + +MERCUTIO Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an + thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but + discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall + make you dance. 'Zounds, consort! + +BENVOLIO We talk here in the public haunt of men: + Either withdraw unto some private place, + And reason coldly of your grievances, + Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us. + +MERCUTIO Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze; + I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I. + + [Enter ROMEO] + +TYBALT Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man. + +MERCUTIO But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: + Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; + Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.' + +TYBALT Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford + No better term than this,--thou art a villain. + +ROMEO Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee + Doth much excuse the appertaining rage + To such a greeting: villain am I none; + Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not. + +TYBALT Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries + That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. + +ROMEO I do protest, I never injured thee, + But love thee better than thou canst devise, + Till thou shalt know the reason of my love: + And so, good Capulet,--which name I tender + As dearly as my own,--be satisfied. + +MERCUTIO O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! + Alla stoccata carries it away. + + [Draws] + + Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? + +TYBALT What wouldst thou have with me? + +MERCUTIO Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine + lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you + shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the + eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher + by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your + ears ere it be out. + +TYBALT I am for you. + + [Drawing] + +ROMEO Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. + +MERCUTIO Come, sir, your passado. + + [They fight] + +ROMEO Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. + Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! + Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath + Forbidden bandying in Verona streets: + Hold, Tybalt! good Mercutio! + + [TYBALT under ROMEO's arm stabs MERCUTIO, and flies + with his followers] + +MERCUTIO I am hurt. + A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. + Is he gone, and hath nothing? + +BENVOLIO What, art thou hurt? + +MERCUTIO Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. + Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. + + [Exit Page] + +ROMEO Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much. + +MERCUTIO No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a + church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for + me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I + am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' + both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a + cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a + rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of + arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I + was hurt under your arm. + +ROMEO I thought all for the best. + +MERCUTIO Help me into some house, Benvolio, + Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! + They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, + And soundly too: your houses! + + [Exeunt MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO] + +ROMEO This gentleman, the prince's near ally, + My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt + In my behalf; my reputation stain'd + With Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour + Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, + Thy beauty hath made me effeminate + And in my temper soften'd valour's steel! + + [Re-enter BENVOLIO] + +BENVOLIO O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! + That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, + Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. + +ROMEO This day's black fate on more days doth depend; + This but begins the woe, others must end. + +BENVOLIO Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. + +ROMEO Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! + Away to heaven, respective lenity, + And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now! + + [Re-enter TYBALT] + + Now, Tybalt, take the villain back again, + That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul + Is but a little way above our heads, + Staying for thine to keep him company: + Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. + +TYBALT Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, + Shalt with him hence. + +ROMEO This shall determine that. + + [They fight; TYBALT falls] + +BENVOLIO Romeo, away, be gone! + The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. + Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death, + If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away! + +ROMEO O, I am fortune's fool! + +BENVOLIO Why dost thou stay? + + [Exit ROMEO] + + [Enter Citizens, &c] + +First Citizen Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? + Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? + +BENVOLIO There lies that Tybalt. + +First Citizen Up, sir, go with me; + I charge thee in the princes name, obey. + + [Enter Prince, attended; MONTAGUE, CAPULET, their + Wives, and others] + +PRINCE Where are the vile beginners of this fray? + +BENVOLIO O noble prince, I can discover all + The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: + There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, + That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. + +LADY CAPULET Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! + O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt + O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true, + For blood of ours, shed blood of Montague. + O cousin, cousin! + +PRINCE Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? + +BENVOLIO Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; + Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink + How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal + Your high displeasure: all this uttered + With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd, + Could not take truce with the unruly spleen + Of Tybalt deaf to peace, but that he tilts + With piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast, + Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point, + And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats + Cold death aside, and with the other sends + It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity, + Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, + 'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than + his tongue, + His agile arm beats down their fatal points, + And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm + An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life + Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled; + But by and by comes back to Romeo, + Who had but newly entertain'd revenge, + And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I + Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain. + And, as he fell, did Romeo turn and fly. + This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. + +LADY CAPULET He is a kinsman to the Montague; + Affection makes him false; he speaks not true: + Some twenty of them fought in this black strife, + And all those twenty could but kill one life. + I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give; + Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. + +PRINCE Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; + Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? + +MONTAGUE Not Romeo, prince, he was Mercutio's friend; + His fault concludes but what the law should end, + The life of Tybalt. + +PRINCE And for that offence + Immediately we do exile him hence: + I have an interest in your hate's proceeding, + My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding; + But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine + That you shall all repent the loss of mine: + I will be deaf to pleading and excuses; + Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses: + Therefore use none: let Romeo hence in haste, + Else, when he's found, that hour is his last. + Bear hence this body and attend our will: + Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II Capulet's orchard. + + + [Enter JULIET] + +JULIET Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, + Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner + As Phaethon would whip you to the west, + And bring in cloudy night immediately. + Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, + That runaway's eyes may wink and Romeo + Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen. + Lovers can see to do their amorous rites + By their own beauties; or, if love be blind, + It best agrees with night. Come, civil night, + Thou sober-suited matron, all in black, + And learn me how to lose a winning match, + Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods: + Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks, + With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold, + Think true love acted simple modesty. + Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; + For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night + Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. + Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night, + Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, + Take him and cut him out in little stars, + And he will make the face of heaven so fine + That all the world will be in love with night + And pay no worship to the garish sun. + O, I have bought the mansion of a love, + But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, + Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day + As is the night before some festival + To an impatient child that hath new robes + And may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse, + And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks + But Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence. + + [Enter Nurse, with cords] + + Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords + That Romeo bid thee fetch? + +Nurse Ay, ay, the cords. + + [Throws them down] + +JULIET Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands? + +Nurse Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! + We are undone, lady, we are undone! + Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! + +JULIET Can heaven be so envious? + +Nurse Romeo can, + Though heaven cannot: O Romeo, Romeo! + Who ever would have thought it? Romeo! + +JULIET What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? + This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. + Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but 'I,' + And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more + Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: + I am not I, if there be such an I; + Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.' + If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no: + Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe. + +Nurse I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,-- + God save the mark!--here on his manly breast: + A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; + Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood, + All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight. + +JULIET O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once! + To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty! + Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; + And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! + +Nurse O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I had! + O courteous Tybalt! honest gentleman! + That ever I should live to see thee dead! + +JULIET What storm is this that blows so contrary? + Is Romeo slaughter'd, and is Tybalt dead? + My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord? + Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom! + For who is living, if those two are gone? + +Nurse Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; + Romeo that kill'd him, he is banished. + +JULIET O God! did Romeo's hand shed Tybalt's blood? + +Nurse It did, it did; alas the day, it did! + +JULIET O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face! + Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? + Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical! + Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb! + Despised substance of divinest show! + Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st, + A damned saint, an honourable villain! + O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell, + When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend + In moral paradise of such sweet flesh? + Was ever book containing such vile matter + So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell + In such a gorgeous palace! + +Nurse There's no trust, + No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, + All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. + Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae: + These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old. + Shame come to Romeo! + +JULIET Blister'd be thy tongue + For such a wish! he was not born to shame: + Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; + For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd + Sole monarch of the universal earth. + O, what a beast was I to chide at him! + +Nurse Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? + +JULIET Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband? + Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, + When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it? + But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? + That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband: + Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; + Your tributary drops belong to woe, + Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. + My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; + And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: + All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then? + Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, + That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; + But, O, it presses to my memory, + Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds: + 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banished;' + That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,' + Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death + Was woe enough, if it had ended there: + Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship + And needly will be rank'd with other griefs, + Why follow'd not, when she said 'Tybalt's dead,' + Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, + Which modern lamentations might have moved? + But with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, + 'Romeo is banished,' to speak that word, + Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, + All slain, all dead. 'Romeo is banished!' + There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, + In that word's death; no words can that woe sound. + Where is my father, and my mother, nurse? + +Nurse Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: + Will you go to them? I will bring you thither. + +JULIET Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, + When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment. + Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled, + Both you and I; for Romeo is exiled: + He made you for a highway to my bed; + But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. + Come, cords, come, nurse; I'll to my wedding-bed; + And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! + +Nurse Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo + To comfort you: I wot well where he is. + Hark ye, your Romeo will be here at night: + I'll to him; he is hid at Laurence' cell. + +JULIET O, find him! give this ring to my true knight, + And bid him come to take his last farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III Friar Laurence's cell. + + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man: + Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts, + And thou art wedded to calamity. + + [Enter ROMEO] + +ROMEO Father, what news? what is the prince's doom? + What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand, + That I yet know not? + +FRIAR LAURENCE Too familiar + Is my dear son with such sour company: + I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. + +ROMEO What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom? + +FRIAR LAURENCE A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips, + Not body's death, but body's banishment. + +ROMEO Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;' + For exile hath more terror in his look, + Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.' + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hence from Verona art thou banished: + Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. + +ROMEO There is no world without Verona walls, + But purgatory, torture, hell itself. + Hence-banished is banish'd from the world, + And world's exile is death: then banished, + Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, + Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe, + And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. + +FRIAR LAURENCE O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! + Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince, + Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, + And turn'd that black word death to banishment: + This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. + +ROMEO 'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, + Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog + And little mouse, every unworthy thing, + Live here in heaven and may look on her; + But Romeo may not: more validity, + More honourable state, more courtship lives + In carrion-flies than Romeo: they my seize + On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand + And steal immortal blessing from her lips, + Who even in pure and vestal modesty, + Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; + But Romeo may not; he is banished: + Flies may do this, but I from this must fly: + They are free men, but I am banished. + And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? + Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, + No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, + But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'? + O friar, the damned use that word in hell; + Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart, + Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, + A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd, + To mangle me with that word 'banished'? + +FRIAR LAURENCE Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word. + +ROMEO O, thou wilt speak again of banishment. + +FRIAR LAURENCE I'll give thee armour to keep off that word: + Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, + To comfort thee, though thou art banished. + +ROMEO Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy! + Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, + Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, + It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more. + +FRIAR LAURENCE O, then I see that madmen have no ears. + +ROMEO How should they, when that wise men have no eyes? + +FRIAR LAURENCE Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. + +ROMEO Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: + Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, + An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, + Doting like me and like me banished, + Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, + And fall upon the ground, as I do now, + Taking the measure of an unmade grave. + + [Knocking within] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Arise; one knocks; good Romeo, hide thyself. + +ROMEO Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans, + Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes. + + [Knocking] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Romeo, arise; + Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up; + + [Knocking] + + Run to my study. By and by! God's will, + What simpleness is this! I come, I come! + + [Knocking] + + Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will? + +Nurse [Within] Let me come in, and you shall know + my errand; + I come from Lady Juliet. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Welcome, then. + + [Enter Nurse] + +Nurse O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar, + Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? + +FRIAR LAURENCE There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. + +Nurse O, he is even in my mistress' case, + Just in her case! O woful sympathy! + Piteous predicament! Even so lies she, + Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering. + Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man: + For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand; + Why should you fall into so deep an O? + +ROMEO Nurse! + +Nurse Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all. + +ROMEO Spakest thou of Juliet? how is it with her? + Doth she not think me an old murderer, + Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy + With blood removed but little from her own? + Where is she? and how doth she? and what says + My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love? + +Nurse O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps; + And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, + And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, + And then down falls again. + +ROMEO As if that name, + Shot from the deadly level of a gun, + Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand + Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me, + In what vile part of this anatomy + Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack + The hateful mansion. + + [Drawing his sword] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hold thy desperate hand: + Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art: + Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote + The unreasonable fury of a beast: + Unseemly woman in a seeming man! + Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both! + Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order, + I thought thy disposition better temper'd. + Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? + And stay thy lady too that lives in thee, + By doing damned hate upon thyself? + Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth? + Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet + In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose. + Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit; + Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all, + And usest none in that true use indeed + Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit: + Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, + Digressing from the valour of a man; + Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury, + Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish; + Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love, + Misshapen in the conduct of them both, + Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask, + Is set afire by thine own ignorance, + And thou dismember'd with thine own defence. + What, rouse thee, man! thy Juliet is alive, + For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; + There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, + But thou slew'st Tybalt; there are thou happy too: + The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend + And turns it to exile; there art thou happy: + A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back; + Happiness courts thee in her best array; + But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench, + Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love: + Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. + Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, + Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her: + But look thou stay not till the watch be set, + For then thou canst not pass to Mantua; + Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time + To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, + Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back + With twenty hundred thousand times more joy + Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. + Go before, nurse: commend me to thy lady; + And bid her hasten all the house to bed, + Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto: + Romeo is coming. + +Nurse O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night + To hear good counsel: O, what learning is! + My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. + +ROMEO Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide. + +Nurse Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir: + Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. + + [Exit] + +ROMEO How well my comfort is revived by this! + +FRIAR LAURENCE Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state: + Either be gone before the watch be set, + Or by the break of day disguised from hence: + Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man, + And he shall signify from time to time + Every good hap to you that chances here: + Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night. + +ROMEO But that a joy past joy calls out on me, + It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV A room in Capulet's house. + + + [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and PARIS] + +CAPULET Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily, + That we have had no time to move our daughter: + Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dearly, + And so did I:--Well, we were born to die. + 'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: + I promise you, but for your company, + I would have been a-bed an hour ago. + +PARIS These times of woe afford no time to woo. + Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter. + +LADY CAPULET I will, and know her mind early to-morrow; + To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness. + +CAPULET Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender + Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled + In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not. + Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed; + Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; + And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next-- + But, soft! what day is this? + +PARIS Monday, my lord, + +CAPULET Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon, + O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her, + She shall be married to this noble earl. + Will you be ready? do you like this haste? + We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two; + For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, + It may be thought we held him carelessly, + Being our kinsman, if we revel much: + Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends, + And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? + +PARIS My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow. + +CAPULET Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then. + Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, + Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. + Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho! + Afore me! it is so very very late, + That we may call it early by and by. + Good night. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V Capulet's orchard. + + + [Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window] + +JULIET Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: + It was the nightingale, and not the lark, + That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; + Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: + Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. + +ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn, + No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks + Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: + Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day + Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. + I must be gone and live, or stay and die. + +JULIET Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I: + It is some meteor that the sun exhales, + To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, + And light thee on thy way to Mantua: + Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone. + +ROMEO Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; + I am content, so thou wilt have it so. + I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, + 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; + Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat + The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: + I have more care to stay than will to go: + Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. + How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day. + +JULIET It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away! + It is the lark that sings so out of tune, + Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. + Some say the lark makes sweet division; + This doth not so, for she divideth us: + Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes, + O, now I would they had changed voices too! + Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, + Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day, + O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. + +ROMEO More light and light; more dark and dark our woes! + + [Enter Nurse, to the chamber] + +Nurse Madam! + +JULIET Nurse? + +Nurse Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: + The day is broke; be wary, look about. + + [Exit] + +JULIET Then, window, let day in, and let life out. + +ROMEO Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend. + + [He goeth down] + +JULIET Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend! + I must hear from thee every day in the hour, + For in a minute there are many days: + O, by this count I shall be much in years + Ere I again behold my Romeo! + +ROMEO Farewell! + I will omit no opportunity + That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. + +JULIET O think'st thou we shall ever meet again? + +ROMEO I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve + For sweet discourses in our time to come. + +JULIET O God, I have an ill-divining soul! + Methinks I see thee, now thou art below, + As one dead in the bottom of a tomb: + Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale. + +ROMEO And trust me, love, in my eye so do you: + Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! + + [Exit] + +JULIET O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle: + If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him. + That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune; + For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long, + But send him back. + +LADY CAPULET [Within] Ho, daughter! are you up? + +JULIET Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother? + Is she not down so late, or up so early? + What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither? + + [Enter LADY CAPULET] + +LADY CAPULET Why, how now, Juliet! + +JULIET Madam, I am not well. + +LADY CAPULET Evermore weeping for your cousin's death? + What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? + An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live; + Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love; + But much of grief shows still some want of wit. + +JULIET Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. + +LADY CAPULET So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend + Which you weep for. + +JULIET Feeling so the loss, + Cannot choose but ever weep the friend. + +LADY CAPULET Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death, + As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him. + +JULIET What villain madam? + +LADY CAPULET That same villain, Romeo. + +JULIET [Aside] Villain and he be many miles asunder.-- + God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart; + And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart. + +LADY CAPULET That is, because the traitor murderer lives. + +JULIET Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands: + Would none but I might venge my cousin's death! + +LADY CAPULET We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not: + Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua, + Where that same banish'd runagate doth live, + Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram, + That he shall soon keep Tybalt company: + And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. + +JULIET Indeed, I never shall be satisfied + With Romeo, till I behold him--dead-- + Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd. + Madam, if you could find out but a man + To bear a poison, I would temper it; + That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof, + Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors + To hear him named, and cannot come to him. + To wreak the love I bore my cousin + Upon his body that slaughter'd him! + +LADY CAPULET Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man. + But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl. + +JULIET And joy comes well in such a needy time: + What are they, I beseech your ladyship? + +LADY CAPULET Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; + One who, to put thee from thy heaviness, + Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy, + That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for. + +JULIET Madam, in happy time, what day is that? + +LADY CAPULET Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn, + The gallant, young and noble gentleman, + The County Paris, at Saint Peter's Church, + Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride. + +JULIET Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too, + He shall not make me there a joyful bride. + I wonder at this haste; that I must wed + Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo. + I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam, + I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear, + It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, + Rather than Paris. These are news indeed! + +LADY CAPULET Here comes your father; tell him so yourself, + And see how he will take it at your hands. + + [Enter CAPULET and Nurse] + +CAPULET When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew; + But for the sunset of my brother's son + It rains downright. + How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? + Evermore showering? In one little body + Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind; + For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea, + Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, + Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs; + Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them, + Without a sudden calm, will overset + Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife! + Have you deliver'd to her our decree? + +LADY CAPULET Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks. + I would the fool were married to her grave! + +CAPULET Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife. + How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks? + Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, + Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought + So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom? + +JULIET Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have: + Proud can I never be of what I hate; + But thankful even for hate, that is meant love. + +CAPULET How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this? + 'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;' + And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you, + Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds, + But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next, + To go with Paris to Saint Peter's Church, + Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither. + Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage! + You tallow-face! + +LADY CAPULET Fie, fie! what, are you mad? + +JULIET Good father, I beseech you on my knees, + Hear me with patience but to speak a word. + +CAPULET Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! + I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday, + Or never after look me in the face: + Speak not, reply not, do not answer me; + My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest + That God had lent us but this only child; + But now I see this one is one too much, + And that we have a curse in having her: + Out on her, hilding! + +Nurse God in heaven bless her! + You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. + +CAPULET And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue, + Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go. + +Nurse I speak no treason. + +CAPULET O, God ye god-den. + +Nurse May not one speak? + +CAPULET Peace, you mumbling fool! + Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl; + For here we need it not. + +LADY CAPULET You are too hot. + +CAPULET God's bread! it makes me mad: + Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play, + Alone, in company, still my care hath been + To have her match'd: and having now provided + A gentleman of noble parentage, + Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, + Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, + Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man; + And then to have a wretched puling fool, + A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, + To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love, + I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.' + But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you: + Graze where you will you shall not house with me: + Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. + Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise: + An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend; + And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in + the streets, + For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee, + Nor what is mine shall never do thee good: + Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn. + + [Exit] + +JULIET Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, + That sees into the bottom of my grief? + O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! + Delay this marriage for a month, a week; + Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed + In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. + +LADY CAPULET Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word: + Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. + + [Exit] + +JULIET O God!--O nurse, how shall this be prevented? + My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; + How shall that faith return again to earth, + Unless that husband send it me from heaven + By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me. + Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems + Upon so soft a subject as myself! + What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy? + Some comfort, nurse. + +Nurse Faith, here it is. + Romeo is banish'd; and all the world to nothing, + That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you; + Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. + Then, since the case so stands as now it doth, + I think it best you married with the county. + O, he's a lovely gentleman! + Romeo's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam, + Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye + As Paris hath. Beshrew my very heart, + I think you are happy in this second match, + For it excels your first: or if it did not, + Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were, + As living here and you no use of him. + +JULIET Speakest thou from thy heart? + +Nurse And from my soul too; + Or else beshrew them both. + +JULIET Amen! + +Nurse What? + +JULIET Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much. + Go in: and tell my lady I am gone, + Having displeased my father, to Laurence' cell, + To make confession and to be absolved. + +Nurse Marry, I will; and this is wisely done. + + [Exit] + +JULIET Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend! + Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn, + Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue + Which she hath praised him with above compare + So many thousand times? Go, counsellor; + Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. + I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: + If all else fail, myself have power to die. + + [Exit] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Friar Laurence's cell. + + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS] + +FRIAR LAURENCE On Thursday, sir? the time is very short. + +PARIS My father Capulet will have it so; + And I am nothing slow to slack his haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE You say you do not know the lady's mind: + Uneven is the course, I like it not. + +PARIS Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, + And therefore have I little talk'd of love; + For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. + Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous + That she doth give her sorrow so much sway, + And in his wisdom hastes our marriage, + To stop the inundation of her tears; + Which, too much minded by herself alone, + May be put from her by society: + Now do you know the reason of this haste. + +FRIAR LAURENCE [Aside] I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. + Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. + + [Enter JULIET] + +PARIS Happily met, my lady and my wife! + +JULIET That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. + +PARIS That may be must be, love, on Thursday next. + +JULIET What must be shall be. + +FRIAR LAURENCE That's a certain text. + +PARIS Come you to make confession to this father? + +JULIET To answer that, I should confess to you. + +PARIS Do not deny to him that you love me. + +JULIET I will confess to you that I love him. + +PARIS So will ye, I am sure, that you love me. + +JULIET If I do so, it will be of more price, + Being spoke behind your back, than to your face. + +PARIS Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears. + +JULIET The tears have got small victory by that; + For it was bad enough before their spite. + +PARIS Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report. + +JULIET That is no slander, sir, which is a truth; + And what I spake, I spake it to my face. + +PARIS Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it. + +JULIET It may be so, for it is not mine own. + Are you at leisure, holy father, now; + Or shall I come to you at evening mass? + +FRIAR LAURENCE My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now. + My lord, we must entreat the time alone. + +PARIS God shield I should disturb devotion! + Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse ye: + Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss. + + [Exit] + +JULIET O shut the door! and when thou hast done so, + Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! + +FRIAR LAURENCE Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; + It strains me past the compass of my wits: + I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it, + On Thursday next be married to this county. + +JULIET Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this, + Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it: + If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help, + Do thou but call my resolution wise, + And with this knife I'll help it presently. + God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou our hands; + And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd, + Shall be the label to another deed, + Or my true heart with treacherous revolt + Turn to another, this shall slay them both: + Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time, + Give me some present counsel, or, behold, + 'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife + Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that + Which the commission of thy years and art + Could to no issue of true honour bring. + Be not so long to speak; I long to die, + If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope, + Which craves as desperate an execution. + As that is desperate which we would prevent. + If, rather than to marry County Paris, + Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself, + Then is it likely thou wilt undertake + A thing like death to chide away this shame, + That copest with death himself to scape from it: + And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy. + +JULIET O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, + From off the battlements of yonder tower; + Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk + Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears; + Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, + O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, + With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls; + Or bid me go into a new-made grave + And hide me with a dead man in his shroud; + Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble; + And I will do it without fear or doubt, + To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent + To marry Paris: Wednesday is to-morrow: + To-morrow night look that thou lie alone; + Let not thy nurse lie with thee in thy chamber: + Take thou this vial, being then in bed, + And this distilled liquor drink thou off; + When presently through all thy veins shall run + A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse + Shall keep his native progress, but surcease: + No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest; + The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade + To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall, + Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; + Each part, deprived of supple government, + Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: + And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death + Thou shalt continue two and forty hours, + And then awake as from a pleasant sleep. + Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes + To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: + Then, as the manner of our country is, + In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier + Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault + Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. + In the mean time, against thou shalt awake, + Shall Romeo by my letters know our drift, + And hither shall he come: and he and I + Will watch thy waking, and that very night + Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. + And this shall free thee from this present shame; + If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear, + Abate thy valour in the acting it. + +JULIET Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear! + +FRIAR LAURENCE Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous + In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed + To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord. + +JULIET Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford. + Farewell, dear father! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Hall in Capulet's house. + + + [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, Nurse, and two + Servingmen] + +CAPULET So many guests invite as here are writ. + + [Exit First Servant] + + Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks. + +Second Servant You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they + can lick their fingers. + +CAPULET How canst thou try them so? + +Second Servant Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his + own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his + fingers goes not with me. + +CAPULET Go, be gone. + + [Exit Second Servant] + + We shall be much unfurnished for this time. + What, is my daughter gone to Friar Laurence? + +Nurse Ay, forsooth. + +CAPULET Well, he may chance to do some good on her: + A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is. + +Nurse See where she comes from shrift with merry look. + + [Enter JULIET] + +CAPULET How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding? + +JULIET Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin + Of disobedient opposition + To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd + By holy Laurence to fall prostrate here, + And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you! + Henceforward I am ever ruled by you. + +CAPULET Send for the county; go tell him of this: + I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. + +JULIET I met the youthful lord at Laurence' cell; + And gave him what becomed love I might, + Not step o'er the bounds of modesty. + +CAPULET Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up: + This is as't should be. Let me see the county; + Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither. + Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar, + Our whole city is much bound to him. + +JULIET Nurse, will you go with me into my closet, + To help me sort such needful ornaments + As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow? + +LADY CAPULET No, not till Thursday; there is time enough. + +CAPULET Go, nurse, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow. + + [Exeunt JULIET and Nurse] + +LADY CAPULET We shall be short in our provision: + 'Tis now near night. + +CAPULET Tush, I will stir about, + And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife: + Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her; + I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone; + I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho! + They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself + To County Paris, to prepare him up + Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light, + Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Juliet's chamber. + + + [Enter JULIET and Nurse] + +JULIET Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle nurse, + I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night, + For I have need of many orisons + To move the heavens to smile upon my state, + Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin. + + [Enter LADY CAPULET] + +LADY CAPULET What, are you busy, ho? need you my help? + +JULIET No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries + As are behoveful for our state to-morrow: + So please you, let me now be left alone, + And let the nurse this night sit up with you; + For, I am sure, you have your hands full all, + In this so sudden business. + +LADY CAPULET Good night: + Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need. + + [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse] + +JULIET Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again. + I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, + That almost freezes up the heat of life: + I'll call them back again to comfort me: + Nurse! What should she do here? + My dismal scene I needs must act alone. + Come, vial. + What if this mixture do not work at all? + Shall I be married then to-morrow morning? + No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there. + + [Laying down her dagger] + + What if it be a poison, which the friar + Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, + Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, + Because he married me before to Romeo? + I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, + For he hath still been tried a holy man. + How if, when I am laid into the tomb, + I wake before the time that Romeo + Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! + Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault, + To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, + And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? + Or, if I live, is it not very like, + The horrible conceit of death and night, + Together with the terror of the place,-- + As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, + Where, for these many hundred years, the bones + Of all my buried ancestors are packed: + Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, + Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, + At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- + Alack, alack, is it not like that I, + So early waking, what with loathsome smells, + And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, + That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:-- + O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, + Environed with all these hideous fears? + And madly play with my forefather's joints? + And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? + And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, + As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? + O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost + Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body + Upon a rapier's point: stay, Tybalt, stay! + Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee. + + [She falls upon her bed, within the curtains] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV Hall in Capulet's house. + + + [Enter LADY CAPULET and Nurse] + +LADY CAPULET Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, nurse. + +Nurse They call for dates and quinces in the pastry. + + [Enter CAPULET] + +CAPULET Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd, + The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock: + Look to the baked meats, good Angelica: + Spare not for the cost. + +Nurse Go, you cot-quean, go, + Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow + For this night's watching. + +CAPULET No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now + All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. + +LADY CAPULET Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time; + But I will watch you from such watching now. + + [Exeunt LADY CAPULET and Nurse] + +CAPULET A jealous hood, a jealous hood! + + [Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs, + and baskets] + + Now, fellow, + What's there? + +First Servant Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what. + +CAPULET Make haste, make haste. + + [Exit First Servant] + + Sirrah, fetch drier logs: + Call Peter, he will show thee where they are. + +Second Servant I have a head, sir, that will find out logs, + And never trouble Peter for the matter. + + [Exit] + +CAPULET Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! + Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day: + The county will be here with music straight, + For so he said he would: I hear him near. + + [Music within] + + Nurse! Wife! What, ho! What, nurse, I say! + + [Re-enter Nurse] + + Go waken Juliet, go and trim her up; + I'll go and chat with Paris: hie, make haste, + Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already: + Make haste, I say. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE V Juliet's chamber. + + + [Enter Nurse] + +Nurse Mistress! what, mistress! Juliet! fast, I warrant her, she: + Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed! + Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride! + What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now; + Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant, + The County Paris hath set up his rest, + That you shall rest but little. God forgive me, + Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep! + I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam! + Ay, let the county take you in your bed; + He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be? + + [Undraws the curtains] + + What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again! + I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady! + Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead! + O, well-a-day, that ever I was born! + Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady! + + [Enter LADY CAPULET] + +LADY CAPULET What noise is here? + +Nurse O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET What is the matter? + +Nurse Look, look! O heavy day! + +LADY CAPULET O me, O me! My child, my only life, + Revive, look up, or I will die with thee! + Help, help! Call help. + + [Enter CAPULET] + +CAPULET For shame, bring Juliet forth; her lord is come. + +Nurse She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day! + +LADY CAPULET Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! + +CAPULET Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold: + Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; + Life and these lips have long been separated: + Death lies on her like an untimely frost + Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. + +Nurse O lamentable day! + +LADY CAPULET O woful time! + +CAPULET Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail, + Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE and PARIS, with Musicians] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Come, is the bride ready to go to church? + +CAPULET Ready to go, but never to return. + O son! the night before thy wedding-day + Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies, + Flower as she was, deflowered by him. + Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir; + My daughter he hath wedded: I will die, + And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's. + +PARIS Have I thought long to see this morning's face, + And doth it give me such a sight as this? + +LADY CAPULET Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! + Most miserable hour that e'er time saw + In lasting labour of his pilgrimage! + But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, + But one thing to rejoice and solace in, + And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! + +Nurse O woe! O woful, woful, woful day! + Most lamentable day, most woful day, + That ever, ever, I did yet behold! + O day! O day! O day! O hateful day! + Never was seen so black a day as this: + O woful day, O woful day! + +PARIS Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain! + Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, + By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown! + O love! O life! not life, but love in death! + +CAPULET Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd! + Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now + To murder, murder our solemnity? + O child! O child! my soul, and not my child! + Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead; + And with my child my joys are buried. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not + In these confusions. Heaven and yourself + Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all, + And all the better is it for the maid: + Your part in her you could not keep from death, + But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. + The most you sought was her promotion; + For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced: + And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced + Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? + O, in this love, you love your child so ill, + That you run mad, seeing that she is well: + She's not well married that lives married long; + But she's best married that dies married young. + Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary + On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, + In all her best array bear her to church: + For though fond nature bids us an lament, + Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. + +CAPULET All things that we ordained festival, + Turn from their office to black funeral; + Our instruments to melancholy bells, + Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast, + Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change, + Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse, + And all things change them to the contrary. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him; + And go, Sir Paris; every one prepare + To follow this fair corse unto her grave: + The heavens do lour upon you for some ill; + Move them no more by crossing their high will. + + [Exeunt CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, PARIS, and FRIAR LAURENCE] + +First Musician Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone. + +Nurse Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up; + For, well you know, this is a pitiful case. + + [Exit] + +First Musician Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended. + + [Enter PETER] + +PETER Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's + ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.' + +First Musician Why 'Heart's ease?' + +PETER O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My + heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump, + to comfort me. + +First Musician Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now. + +PETER You will not, then? + +First Musician No. + +PETER I will then give it you soundly. + +First Musician What will you give us? + +PETER No money, on my faith, but the gleek; + I will give you the minstrel. + +First Musician Then I will give you the serving-creature. + +PETER Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on + your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, + I'll fa you; do you note me? + +First Musician An you re us and fa us, you note us. + +Second Musician Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit. + +PETER Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you + with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer + me like men: + 'When griping grief the heart doth wound, + And doleful dumps the mind oppress, + Then music with her silver sound'-- + why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver + sound'? What say you, Simon Catling? + +Musician Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. + +PETER Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck? + +Second Musician I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver. + +PETER Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost? + +Third Musician Faith, I know not what to say. + +PETER O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say + for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,' + because musicians have no gold for sounding: + 'Then music with her silver sound + With speedy help doth lend redress.' + + [Exit] + +First Musician What a pestilent knave is this same! + +Second Musician Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the + mourners, and stay dinner. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Mantua. A street. + + + [Enter ROMEO] + +ROMEO If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, + My dreams presage some joyful news at hand: + My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne; + And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit + Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. + I dreamt my lady came and found me dead-- + Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave + to think!-- + And breathed such life with kisses in my lips, + That I revived, and was an emperor. + Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, + When but love's shadows are so rich in joy! + + [Enter BALTHASAR, booted] + + News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! + Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? + How doth my lady? Is my father well? + How fares my Juliet? that I ask again; + For nothing can be ill, if she be well. + +BALTHASAR Then she is well, and nothing can be ill: + Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, + And her immortal part with angels lives. + I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault, + And presently took post to tell it you: + O, pardon me for bringing these ill news, + Since you did leave it for my office, sir. + +ROMEO Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! + Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper, + And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. + +BALTHASAR I do beseech you, sir, have patience: + Your looks are pale and wild, and do import + Some misadventure. + +ROMEO Tush, thou art deceived: + Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do. + Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? + +BALTHASAR No, my good lord. + +ROMEO No matter: get thee gone, + And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight. + + [Exit BALTHASAR] + + Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. + Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift + To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! + I do remember an apothecary,-- + And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted + In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, + Culling of simples; meagre were his looks, + Sharp misery had worn him to the bones: + And in his needy shop a tortoise hung, + An alligator stuff'd, and other skins + Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves + A beggarly account of empty boxes, + Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds, + Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses, + Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. + Noting this penury, to myself I said + 'An if a man did need a poison now, + Whose sale is present death in Mantua, + Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.' + O, this same thought did but forerun my need; + And this same needy man must sell it me. + As I remember, this should be the house. + Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. + What, ho! apothecary! + + [Enter Apothecary] + +Apothecary Who calls so loud? + +ROMEO Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: + Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have + A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear + As will disperse itself through all the veins + That the life-weary taker may fall dead + And that the trunk may be discharged of breath + As violently as hasty powder fired + Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. + +Apothecary Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law + Is death to any he that utters them. + +ROMEO Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, + And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, + Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, + Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; + The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; + The world affords no law to make thee rich; + Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. + +Apothecary My poverty, but not my will, consents. + +ROMEO I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. + +Apothecary Put this in any liquid thing you will, + And drink it off; and, if you had the strength + Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight. + +ROMEO There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, + Doing more murders in this loathsome world, + Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. + I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. + Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. + Come, cordial and not poison, go with me + To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Friar Laurence's cell. + + + [Enter FRIAR JOHN] + +FRIAR JOHN Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! + + [Enter FRIAR LAURENCE] + +FRIAR LAURENCE This same should be the voice of Friar John. + Welcome from Mantua: what says Romeo? + Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. + +FRIAR JOHN Going to find a bare-foot brother out + One of our order, to associate me, + Here in this city visiting the sick, + And finding him, the searchers of the town, + Suspecting that we both were in a house + Where the infectious pestilence did reign, + Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth; + So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Who bare my letter, then, to Romeo? + +FRIAR JOHN I could not send it,--here it is again,-- + Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, + So fearful were they of infection. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood, + The letter was not nice but full of charge + Of dear import, and the neglecting it + May do much danger. Friar John, go hence; + Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight + Unto my cell. + +FRIAR JOHN Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. + + [Exit] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Now must I to the monument alone; + Within three hours will fair Juliet wake: + She will beshrew me much that Romeo + Hath had no notice of these accidents; + But I will write again to Mantua, + And keep her at my cell till Romeo come; + Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb! + + [Exit] + + + + + ROMEO AND JULIET + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets. + + + [Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch] + +PARIS Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof: + Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. + Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along, + Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground; + So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread, + Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves, + But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me, + As signal that thou hear'st something approach. + Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. + +PAGE [Aside] I am almost afraid to stand alone + Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure. + + [Retires] + +PARIS Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,-- + O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;-- + Which with sweet water nightly I will dew, + Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: + The obsequies that I for thee will keep + Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. + + [The Page whistles] + + The boy gives warning something doth approach. + What cursed foot wanders this way to-night, + To cross my obsequies and true love's rite? + What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile. + + [Retires] + + [Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, + mattock, &c] + +ROMEO Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron. + Hold, take this letter; early in the morning + See thou deliver it to my lord and father. + Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee, + Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof, + And do not interrupt me in my course. + Why I descend into this bed of death, + Is partly to behold my lady's face; + But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger + A precious ring, a ring that I must use + In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone: + But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry + In what I further shall intend to do, + By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint + And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: + The time and my intents are savage-wild, + More fierce and more inexorable far + Than empty tigers or the roaring sea. + +BALTHASAR I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. + +ROMEO So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that: + Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow. + +BALTHASAR [Aside] For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout: + His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. + + [Retires] + +ROMEO Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, + Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth, + Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, + And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! + + [Opens the tomb] + +PARIS This is that banish'd haughty Montague, + That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief, + It is supposed, the fair creature died; + And here is come to do some villanous shame + To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. + + [Comes forward] + + Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague! + Can vengeance be pursued further than death? + Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee: + Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. + +ROMEO I must indeed; and therefore came I hither. + Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man; + Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone; + Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth, + Put not another sin upon my head, + By urging me to fury: O, be gone! + By heaven, I love thee better than myself; + For I come hither arm'd against myself: + Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say, + A madman's mercy bade thee run away. + +PARIS I do defy thy conjurations, + And apprehend thee for a felon here. + +ROMEO Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy! + + [They fight] + +PAGE O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch. + + [Exit] + +PARIS O, I am slain! + + [Falls] + + If thou be merciful, + Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. + + [Dies] + +ROMEO In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face. + Mercutio's kinsman, noble County Paris! + What said my man, when my betossed soul + Did not attend him as we rode? I think + He told me Paris should have married Juliet: + Said he not so? or did I dream it so? + Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, + To think it was so? O, give me thy hand, + One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! + I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave; + A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth, + For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes + This vault a feasting presence full of light. + Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. + + [Laying PARIS in the tomb] + + How oft when men are at the point of death + Have they been merry! which their keepers call + A lightning before death: O, how may I + Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! + Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, + Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: + Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet + Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, + And death's pale flag is not advanced there. + Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? + O, what more favour can I do to thee, + Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain + To sunder his that was thine enemy? + Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, + Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe + That unsubstantial death is amorous, + And that the lean abhorred monster keeps + Thee here in dark to be his paramour? + For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; + And never from this palace of dim night + Depart again: here, here will I remain + With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here + Will I set up my everlasting rest, + And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars + From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! + Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you + The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss + A dateless bargain to engrossing death! + Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! + Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on + The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! + Here's to my love! + + [Drinks] + + O true apothecary! + Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. + + [Dies] + + [Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR + LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade] + +FRIAR LAURENCE Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night + Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there? + +BALTHASAR Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend, + What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light + To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern, + It burneth in the Capel's monument. + +BALTHASAR It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master, + One that you love. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Who is it? + +BALTHASAR Romeo. + +FRIAR LAURENCE How long hath he been there? + +BALTHASAR Full half an hour. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Go with me to the vault. + +BALTHASAR I dare not, sir + My master knows not but I am gone hence; + And fearfully did menace me with death, + If I did stay to look on his intents. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me: + O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing. + +BALTHASAR As I did sleep under this yew-tree here, + I dreamt my master and another fought, + And that my master slew him. + +FRIAR LAURENCE Romeo! + + [Advances] + + Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains + The stony entrance of this sepulchre? + What mean these masterless and gory swords + To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? + + [Enters the tomb] + + Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too? + And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour + Is guilty of this lamentable chance! + The lady stirs. + + [JULIET wakes] + +JULIET O comfortable friar! where is my lord? + I do remember well where I should be, + And there I am. Where is my Romeo? + + [Noise within] + +FRIAR LAURENCE I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest + Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep: + A greater power than we can contradict + Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. + Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead; + And Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee + Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: + Stay not to question, for the watch is coming; + Come, go, good Juliet, + + [Noise again] + + I dare no longer stay. + +JULIET Go, get thee hence, for I will not away. + + [Exit FRIAR LAURENCE] + + What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand? + Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: + O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop + To help me after? I will kiss thy lips; + Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, + To make die with a restorative. + + [Kisses him] + + Thy lips are warm. + +First Watchman [Within] Lead, boy: which way? + +JULIET Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger! + + [Snatching ROMEO's dagger] + + This is thy sheath; + + [Stabs herself] + + there rust, and let me die. + + [Falls on ROMEO's body, and dies] + + [Enter Watch, with the Page of PARIS] + +PAGE This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn. + +First Watchman The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: + Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach. + Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain, + And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead, + Who here hath lain these two days buried. + Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets: + Raise up the Montagues: some others search: + We see the ground whereon these woes do lie; + But the true ground of all these piteous woes + We cannot without circumstance descry. + + [Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR] + +Second Watchman Here's Romeo's man; we found him in the churchyard. + +First Watchman Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither. + + [Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE] + +Third Watchman Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps: + We took this mattock and this spade from him, + As he was coming from this churchyard side. + +First Watchman A great suspicion: stay the friar too. + + [Enter the PRINCE and Attendants] + +PRINCE What misadventure is so early up, + That calls our person from our morning's rest? + + [Enter CAPULET, LADY CAPULET, and others] + +CAPULET What should it be, that they so shriek abroad? + +LADY CAPULET The people in the street cry Romeo, + Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run, + With open outcry toward our monument. + +PRINCE What fear is this which startles in our ears? + +First Watchman Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain; + And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before, + Warm and new kill'd. + +PRINCE Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes. + +First Watchman Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Romeo's man; + With instruments upon them, fit to open + These dead men's tombs. + +CAPULET O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds! + This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house + Is empty on the back of Montague,-- + And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! + +LADY CAPULET O me! this sight of death is as a bell, + That warns my old age to a sepulchre. + + [Enter MONTAGUE and others] + +PRINCE Come, Montague; for thou art early up, + To see thy son and heir more early down. + +MONTAGUE Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; + Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath: + What further woe conspires against mine age? + +PRINCE Look, and thou shalt see. + +MONTAGUE O thou untaught! what manners is in this? + To press before thy father to a grave? + +PRINCE Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while, + Till we can clear these ambiguities, + And know their spring, their head, their + true descent; + And then will I be general of your woes, + And lead you even to death: meantime forbear, + And let mischance be slave to patience. + Bring forth the parties of suspicion. + +FRIAR LAURENCE I am the greatest, able to do least, + Yet most suspected, as the time and place + Doth make against me of this direful murder; + And here I stand, both to impeach and purge + Myself condemned and myself excused. + +PRINCE Then say at once what thou dost know in this. + +FRIAR LAURENCE I will be brief, for my short date of breath + Is not so long as is a tedious tale. + Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet; + And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful wife: + I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day + Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely death + Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city, + For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. + You, to remove that siege of grief from her, + Betroth'd and would have married her perforce + To County Paris: then comes she to me, + And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean + To rid her from this second marriage, + Or in my cell there would she kill herself. + Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, + A sleeping potion; which so took effect + As I intended, for it wrought on her + The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo, + That he should hither come as this dire night, + To help to take her from her borrow'd grave, + Being the time the potion's force should cease. + But he which bore my letter, Friar John, + Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight + Return'd my letter back. Then all alone + At the prefixed hour of her waking, + Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; + Meaning to keep her closely at my cell, + Till I conveniently could send to Romeo: + But when I came, some minute ere the time + Of her awaking, here untimely lay + The noble Paris and true Romeo dead. + She wakes; and I entreated her come forth, + And bear this work of heaven with patience: + But then a noise did scare me from the tomb; + And she, too desperate, would not go with me, + But, as it seems, did violence on herself. + All this I know; and to the marriage + Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this + Miscarried by my fault, let my old life + Be sacrificed, some hour before his time, + Unto the rigour of severest law. + +PRINCE We still have known thee for a holy man. + Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in this? + +BALTHASAR I brought my master news of Juliet's death; + And then in post he came from Mantua + To this same place, to this same monument. + This letter he early bid me give his father, + And threatened me with death, going in the vault, + I departed not and left him there. + +PRINCE Give me the letter; I will look on it. + Where is the county's page, that raised the watch? + Sirrah, what made your master in this place? + +PAGE He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave; + And bid me stand aloof, and so I did: + Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb; + And by and by my master drew on him; + And then I ran away to call the watch. + +PRINCE This letter doth make good the friar's words, + Their course of love, the tidings of her death: + And here he writes that he did buy a poison + Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal + Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet. + Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague! + See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate, + That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love. + And I for winking at your discords too + Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd. + +CAPULET O brother Montague, give me thy hand: + This is my daughter's jointure, for no more + Can I demand. + +MONTAGUE But I can give thee more: + For I will raise her statue in pure gold; + That while Verona by that name is known, + There shall no figure at such rate be set + As that of true and faithful Juliet. + +CAPULET As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie; + Poor sacrifices of our enmity! + +PRINCE A glooming peace this morning with it brings; + The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: + Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; + Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: + For never was a story of more woe + Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. + + [Exeunt] + TIMON OF ATHENS + + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +TIMON of Athens. + + +LUCIUS | + | +LUCULLUS | flattering lords. + | +SEMPRONIUS | + + +VENTIDIUS one of Timon's false friends. + +ALCIBIADES an Athenian captain. + +APEMANTUS a churlish philosopher. + +FLAVIUS steward to Timon. + + Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant. (Poet:) + (Painter:) + (Jeweller:) + (Merchant:) + + An old Athenian. (Old Athenian:) + + +FLAMINIUS | + | +LUCILIUS | servants to Timon. + | +SERVILIUS | + + +CAPHIS | + | +PHILOTUS | + | +TITUS | + | servants to Timon's creditors. +LUCIUS | + | +HORTENSIUS | + | +And others | + + + A Page. (Page:) + + A Fool. (Fool:) + + Three Strangers. + (First Stranger:) + (Second Stranger:) + (Third Stranger:) + + +PHRYNIA | + | mistresses to Alcibiades. +TIMANDRA | + + + Cupid and Amazons in the mask. (Cupid:) + + Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, + Banditti, and Attendants. + (First Lord:) + (Second Lord:) + (Third Lord:) + (Fourth Lord:) + (Senator:) + (First Senator:) + (Second Senator:) + (Third Senator:) + (Soldier:) + (First Bandit:) + (Second Bandit:) + (Third Bandit:) + (Messenger:) + (Servant:) + (First Servant:) + (Second Servant:) + (Third Servant:) + (Varro's First Servant:) + (Varro's Second Servant:) + (Lucilius' Servant:) + + +SCENE Athens, and the neighbouring woods. + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Athens. A hall in Timon's house. + + + [Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and + others, at several doors] + +Poet Good day, sir. + +Painter I am glad you're well. + +Poet I have not seen you long: how goes the world? + +Painter It wears, sir, as it grows. + +Poet Ay, that's well known: + But what particular rarity? what strange, + Which manifold record not matches? See, + Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power + Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant. + +Painter I know them both; th' other's a jeweller. + +Merchant O, 'tis a worthy lord. + +Jeweller Nay, that's most fix'd. + +Merchant A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were, + To an untirable and continuate goodness: + He passes. + +Jeweller: I have a jewel here-- + +Merchant O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir? + +Jeweller: If he will touch the estimate: but, for that-- + +Poet [Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have + praised the vile, + It stains the glory in that happy verse + Which aptly sings the good.' + +Merchant 'Tis a good form. + + [Looking at the jewel] + +Jeweller And rich: here is a water, look ye. + +Painter You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication + To the great lord. + +Poet A thing slipp'd idly from me. + Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes + From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint + Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame + Provokes itself and like the current flies + Each bound it chafes. What have you there? + +Painter A picture, sir. When comes your book forth? + +Poet Upon the heels of my presentment, sir. + Let's see your piece. + +Painter 'Tis a good piece. + +Poet So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent. + +Painter Indifferent. + +Poet Admirable: how this grace + Speaks his own standing! what a mental power + This eye shoots forth! how big imagination + Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture + One might interpret. + +Painter It is a pretty mocking of the life. + Here is a touch; is't good? + +Poet I will say of it, + It tutors nature: artificial strife + Lives in these touches, livelier than life. + + [Enter certain Senators, and pass over] + +Painter How this lord is follow'd! + +Poet The senators of Athens: happy man! + +Painter Look, more! + +Poet You see this confluence, this great flood + of visitors. + I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man, + Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug + With amplest entertainment: my free drift + Halts not particularly, but moves itself + In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice + Infects one comma in the course I hold; + But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, + Leaving no tract behind. + +Painter How shall I understand you? + +Poet I will unbolt to you. + You see how all conditions, how all minds, + As well of glib and slippery creatures as + Of grave and austere quality, tender down + Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune + Upon his good and gracious nature hanging + Subdues and properties to his love and tendance + All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer + To Apemantus, that few things loves better + Than to abhor himself: even he drops down + The knee before him, and returns in peace + Most rich in Timon's nod. + +Painter I saw them speak together. + +Poet Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill + Feign'd Fortune to be throned: the base o' the mount + Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, + That labour on the bosom of this sphere + To propagate their states: amongst them all, + Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd, + One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame, + Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her; + Whose present grace to present slaves and servants + Translates his rivals. + +Painter 'Tis conceived to scope. + This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, + With one man beckon'd from the rest below, + Bowing his head against the sleepy mount + To climb his happiness, would be well express'd + In our condition. + +Poet Nay, sir, but hear me on. + All those which were his fellows but of late, + Some better than his value, on the moment + Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, + Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, + Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him + Drink the free air. + +Painter Ay, marry, what of these? + +Poet When Fortune in her shift and change of mood + Spurns down her late beloved, all his dependants + Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top + Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, + Not one accompanying his declining foot. + +Painter 'Tis common: + A thousand moral paintings I can show + That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's + More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well + To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen + The foot above the head. + + [Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, addressing himself + courteously to every suitor; a Messenger from + VENTIDIUS talking with him; LUCILIUS and other + servants following] + +TIMON Imprison'd is he, say you? + +Messenger Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt, + His means most short, his creditors most strait: + Your honourable letter he desires + To those have shut him up; which failing, + Periods his comfort. + +TIMON Noble Ventidius! Well; + I am not of that feather to shake off + My friend when he must need me. I do know him + A gentleman that well deserves a help: + Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, + and free him. + +Messenger Your lordship ever binds him. + +TIMON Commend me to him: I will send his ransom; + And being enfranchised, bid him come to me. + 'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, + But to support him after. Fare you well. + +Messenger All happiness to your honour! + + [Exit] + + [Enter an old Athenian] + +Old Athenian Lord Timon, hear me speak. + +TIMON Freely, good father. + +Old Athenian Thou hast a servant named Lucilius. + +TIMON I have so: what of him? + +Old Athenian Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. + +TIMON Attends he here, or no? Lucilius! + +LUCILIUS Here, at your lordship's service. + +Old Athenian This fellow here, Lord Timon, this thy creature, + By night frequents my house. I am a man + That from my first have been inclined to thrift; + And my estate deserves an heir more raised + Than one which holds a trencher. + +TIMON Well; what further? + +Old Athenian One only daughter have I, no kin else, + On whom I may confer what I have got: + The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride, + And I have bred her at my dearest cost + In qualities of the best. This man of thine + Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord, + Join with me to forbid him her resort; + Myself have spoke in vain. + +TIMON The man is honest. + +Old Athenian Therefore he will be, Timon: + His honesty rewards him in itself; + It must not bear my daughter. + +TIMON Does she love him? + +Old Athenian She is young and apt: + Our own precedent passions do instruct us + What levity's in youth. + +TIMON [To LUCILIUS] Love you the maid? + +LUCILIUS Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. + +Old Athenian If in her marriage my consent be missing, + I call the gods to witness, I will choose + Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, + And dispossess her all. + +TIMON How shall she be endow'd, + if she be mated with an equal husband? + +Old Athenian Three talents on the present; in future, all. + +TIMON This gentleman of mine hath served me long: + To build his fortune I will strain a little, + For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: + What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, + And make him weigh with her. + +Old Athenian Most noble lord, + Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. + +TIMON My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. + +LUCILIUS Humbly I thank your lordship: never may + The state or fortune fall into my keeping, + Which is not owed to you! + + [Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old Athenian] + +Poet Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! + +TIMON I thank you; you shall hear from me anon: + Go not away. What have you there, my friend? + +Painter A piece of painting, which I do beseech + Your lordship to accept. + +TIMON Painting is welcome. + The painting is almost the natural man; + or since dishonour traffics with man's nature, + He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are + Even such as they give out. I like your work; + And you shall find I like it: wait attendance + Till you hear further from me. + +Painter The gods preserve ye! + +TIMON Well fare you, gentleman: give me your hand; + We must needs dine together. Sir, your jewel + Hath suffer'd under praise. + +Jeweller What, my lord! dispraise? + +TIMON A more satiety of commendations. + If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, + It would unclew me quite. + +Jeweller My lord, 'tis rated + As those which sell would give: but you well know, + Things of like value differing in the owners + Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear lord, + You mend the jewel by the wearing it. + +TIMON Well mock'd. + +Merchant No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, + Which all men speak with him. + +TIMON Look, who comes here: will you be chid? + + [Enter APEMANTUS] + +Jeweller: We'll bear, with your lordship. + +Merchant He'll spare none. + +TIMON Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! + +APEMANTUS Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow; + When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. + +TIMON Why dost thou call them knaves? thou know'st them not. + +APEMANTUS Are they not Athenians? + +TIMON Yes. + +APEMANTUS Then I repent not. + +Jeweller: You know me, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Thou know'st I do: I call'd thee by thy name. + +TIMON Thou art proud, Apemantus. + +APEMANTUS Of nothing so much as that I am not like Timon. + +TIMON Whither art going? + +APEMANTUS To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. + +TIMON That's a deed thou'lt die for. + +APEMANTUS Right, if doing nothing be death by the law. + +TIMON How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS The best, for the innocence. + +TIMON Wrought he not well that painted it? + +APEMANTUS He wrought better that made the painter; and yet + he's but a filthy piece of work. + +Painter You're a dog. + +APEMANTUS Thy mother's of my generation: what's she, if I be a dog? + +TIMON Wilt dine with me, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS No; I eat not lords. + +TIMON An thou shouldst, thou 'ldst anger ladies. + +APEMANTUS O, they eat lords; so they come by great bellies. + +TIMON That's a lascivious apprehension. + +APEMANTUS So thou apprehendest it: take it for thy labour. + +TIMON How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Not so well as plain-dealing, which will not cost a + man a doit. + +TIMON What dost thou think 'tis worth? + +APEMANTUS Not worth my thinking. How now, poet! + +Poet How now, philosopher! + +APEMANTUS Thou liest. + +Poet Art not one? + +APEMANTUS Yes. + +Poet Then I lie not. + +APEMANTUS Art not a poet? + +Poet Yes. + +APEMANTUS Then thou liest: look in thy last work, where thou + hast feigned him a worthy fellow. + +Poet That's not feigned; he is so. + +APEMANTUS Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy + labour: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o' + the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord! + +TIMON What wouldst do then, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS E'en as Apemantus does now; hate a lord with my heart. + +TIMON What, thyself? + +APEMANTUS Ay. + +TIMON Wherefore? + +APEMANTUS That I had no angry wit to be a lord. + Art not thou a merchant? + +Merchant Ay, Apemantus. + +APEMANTUS Traffic confound thee, if the gods will not! + +Merchant If traffic do it, the gods do it. + +APEMANTUS Traffic's thy god; and thy god confound thee! + + [Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger] + +TIMON What trumpet's that? + +Messenger 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty horse, + All of companionship. + +TIMON Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us. + + [Exeunt some Attendants] + + You must needs dine with me: go not you hence + Till I have thank'd you: when dinner's done, + Show me this piece. I am joyful of your sights. + + [Enter ALCIBIADES, with the rest] + + Most welcome, sir! + +APEMANTUS So, so, there! + Aches contract and starve your supple joints! + That there should be small love 'mongst these + sweet knaves, + And all this courtesy! The strain of man's bred out + Into baboon and monkey. + +ALCIBIADES Sir, you have saved my longing, and I feed + Most hungerly on your sight. + +TIMON Right welcome, sir! + Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time + In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. + + [Exeunt all except APEMANTUS] + + [Enter two Lords] + +First Lord What time o' day is't, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Time to be honest. + +First Lord That time serves still. + +APEMANTUS The more accursed thou, that still omitt'st it. + +Second Lord Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast? + +APEMANTUS Ay, to see meat fill knaves and wine heat fools. + +Second Lord Fare thee well, fare thee well. + +APEMANTUS Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice. + +Second Lord Why, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to + give thee none. + +First Lord Hang thyself! + +APEMANTUS No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: make thy + requests to thy friend. + +Second Lord Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll spurn thee hence! + +APEMANTUS I will fly, like a dog, the heels o' the ass. + + [Exit] + +First Lord He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, + And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes + The very heart of kindness. + +Second Lord He pours it out; Plutus, the god of gold, + Is but his steward: no meed, but he repays + Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, + But breeds the giver a return exceeding + All use of quittance. + +First Lord The noblest mind he carries + That ever govern'd man. + +Second Lord Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in? + +First Lord I'll keep you company. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE II A banqueting-room in Timon's house. + + + [Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet + served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter + TIMON, ALCIBIADES, Lords, Senators, and VENTIDIUS. + Then comes, dropping, after all, APEMANTUS, + discontentedly, like himself] + +VENTIDIUS Most honour'd Timon, + It hath pleased the gods to remember my father's age, + And call him to long peace. + He is gone happy, and has left me rich: + Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound + To your free heart, I do return those talents, + Doubled with thanks and service, from whose help + I derived liberty. + +TIMON O, by no means, + Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love: + I gave it freely ever; and there's none + Can truly say he gives, if he receives: + If our betters play at that game, we must not dare + To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair. + +VENTIDIUS A noble spirit! + +TIMON Nay, my lords, + + [They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON] + + Ceremony was but devised at first + To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes + Than my fortunes to me. + + [They sit] + +First Lord My lord, we always have confess'd it. + +APEMANTUS Ho, ho, confess'd it! hang'd it, have you not? + +TIMON O, Apemantus, you are welcome. + +APEMANTUS No; + You shall not make me welcome: + I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. + +TIMON Fie, thou'rt a churl; ye've got a humour there + Does not become a man: 'tis much to blame. + They say, my lords, 'ira furor brevis est;' but yond + man is ever angry. Go, let him have a table by + himself, for he does neither affect company, nor is + he fit for't, indeed. + +APEMANTUS Let me stay at thine apperil, Timon: I come to + observe; I give thee warning on't. + +TIMON I take no heed of thee; thou'rt an Athenian, + therefore welcome: I myself would have no power; + prithee, let my meat make thee silent. + +APEMANTUS I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should + ne'er flatter thee. O you gods, what a number of + men eat Timon, and he sees 'em not! It grieves me + to see so many dip their meat in one man's blood; + and all the madness is, he cheers them up too. + I wonder men dare trust themselves with men: + Methinks they should invite them without knives; + Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. + There's much example for't; the fellow that sits + next him now, parts bread with him, pledges the + breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest + man to kill him: 't has been proved. If I were a + huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; + Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes: + Great men should drink with harness on their throats. + +TIMON My lord, in heart; and let the health go round. + +Second Lord Let it flow this way, my good lord. + +APEMANTUS Flow this way! A brave fellow! he keeps his tides + well. Those healths will make thee and thy state + look ill, Timon. Here's that which is too weak to + be a sinner, honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire: + This and my food are equals; there's no odds: + Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. + + Apemantus' grace. + + Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; + I pray for no man but myself: + Grant I may never prove so fond, + To trust man on his oath or bond; + Or a harlot, for her weeping; + Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping: + Or a keeper with my freedom; + Or my friends, if I should need 'em. + Amen. So fall to't: + Rich men sin, and I eat root. + + [Eats and drinks] + + Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! + +TIMON Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now. + +ALCIBIADES My heart is ever at your service, my lord. + +TIMON You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies than a + dinner of friends. + +ALCIBIADES So the were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat + like 'em: I could wish my best friend at such a feast. + +APEMANTUS Would all those fatterers were thine enemies then, + that then thou mightst kill 'em and bid me to 'em! + +First Lord Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you + would once use our hearts, whereby we might express + some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves + for ever perfect. + +TIMON O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods + themselves have provided that I shall have much help + from you: how had you been my friends else? why + have you that charitable title from thousands, did + not you chiefly belong to my heart? I have told + more of you to myself than you can with modesty + speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm + you. O you gods, think I, what need we have any + friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em? they + were the most needless creatures living, should we + ne'er have use for 'em, and would most resemble + sweet instruments hung up in cases that keep their + sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished + myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We + are born to do benefits: and what better or + properer can we can our own than the riches of our + friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have + so many, like brothers, commanding one another's + fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere 't can be born! + Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to + forget their faults, I drink to you. + +APEMANTUS Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon. + +Second Lord Joy had the like conception in our eyes + And at that instant like a babe sprung up. + +APEMANTUS Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe a bastard. + +Third Lord I promise you, my lord, you moved me much. + +APEMANTUS Much! + + [Tucket, within] + +TIMON What means that trump? + + [Enter a Servant] + + How now? + +Servant Please you, my lord, there are certain + ladies most desirous of admittance. + +TIMON Ladies! what are their wills? + +Servant There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which + bears that office, to signify their pleasures. + +TIMON I pray, let them be admitted. + + [Enter Cupid] + +Cupid Hail to thee, worthy Timon, and to all + That of his bounties taste! The five best senses + Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely + To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: th' ear, + Taste, touch and smell, pleased from thy tale rise; + They only now come but to feast thine eyes. + +TIMON They're welcome all; let 'em have kind admittance: + Music, make their welcome! + + [Exit Cupid] + +First Lord You see, my lord, how ample you're beloved. + + [Music. Re-enter Cupid with a mask of Ladies + as Amazons, with lutes in their hands, + dancing and playing] + +APEMANTUS Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! + They dance! they are mad women. + Like madness is the glory of this life. + As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. + We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; + And spend our flatteries, to drink those men + Upon whose age we void it up again, + With poisonous spite and envy. + Who lives that's not depraved or depraves? + Who dies, that bears not one spurn to their graves + Of their friends' gift? + I should fear those that dance before me now + Would one day stamp upon me: 't has been done; + Men shut their doors against a setting sun. + + [The Lords rise from table, with much adoring of + TIMON; and to show their loves, each singles out an + Amazon, and all dance, men with women, a lofty + strain or two to the hautboys, and cease] + +TIMON You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, + Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, + Which was not half so beautiful and kind; + You have added worth unto 't and lustre, + And entertain'd me with mine own device; + I am to thank you for 't. + +First Lady My lord, you take us even at the best. + +APEMANTUS 'Faith, for the worst is filthy; and would not hold + taking, I doubt me. + +TIMON Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you: + Please you to dispose yourselves. + +All Ladies Most thankfully, my lord. + + [Exeunt Cupid and Ladies] + +TIMON Flavius. + +FLAVIUS My lord? + +TIMON The little casket bring me hither. + +FLAVIUS Yes, my lord. More jewels yet! + There is no crossing him in 's humour; + + [Aside] + + Else I should tell him,--well, i' faith I should, + When all's spent, he 'ld be cross'd then, an he could. + 'Tis pity bounty had not eyes behind, + That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind. + + [Exit] + +First Lord Where be our men? + +Servant Here, my lord, in readiness. + +Second Lord Our horses! + + [Re-enter FLAVIUS, with the casket] + +TIMON O my friends, + I have one word to say to you: look you, my good lord, + I must entreat you, honour me so much + As to advance this jewel; accept it and wear it, + Kind my lord. + +First Lord I am so far already in your gifts,-- + +All So are we all. + + [Enter a Servant] + +Servant My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate + Newly alighted, and come to visit you. + +TIMON They are fairly welcome. + +FLAVIUS I beseech your honour, + Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you near. + +TIMON Near! why then, another time I'll hear thee: + I prithee, let's be provided to show them + entertainment. + +FLAVIUS [Aside] I scarce know how. + + [Enter a Second Servant] + +Second Servant May it please your honour, Lord Lucius, + Out of his free love, hath presented to you + Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver. + +TIMON I shall accept them fairly; let the presents + Be worthily entertain'd. + + [Enter a third Servant] + + How now! what news? + +Third Servant Please you, my lord, that honourable + gentleman, Lord Lucullus, entreats your company + to-morrow to hunt with him, and has sent your honour + two brace of greyhounds. + +TIMON I'll hunt with him; and let them be received, + Not without fair reward. + +FLAVIUS [Aside] What will this come to? + He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, + And all out of an empty coffer: + Nor will he know his purse, or yield me this, + To show him what a beggar his heart is, + Being of no power to make his wishes good: + His promises fly so beyond his state + That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes + For every word: he is so kind that he now + Pays interest for 't; his land's put to their books. + Well, would I were gently put out of office + Before I were forced out! + Happier is he that has no friend to feed + Than such that do e'en enemies exceed. + I bleed inwardly for my lord. + + [Exit] + +TIMON You do yourselves + Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits: + Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. + +Second Lord With more than common thanks I will receive it. + +Third Lord O, he's the very soul of bounty! + +TIMON And now I remember, my lord, you gave + Good words the other day of a bay courser + I rode on: it is yours, because you liked it. + +Second Lord O, I beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that. + +TIMON You may take my word, my lord; I know, no man + Can justly praise but what he does affect: + I weigh my friend's affection with mine own; + I'll tell you true. I'll call to you. + +All Lords O, none so welcome. + +TIMON I take all and your several visitations + So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give; + Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, + And ne'er be weary. Alcibiades, + Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich; + It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living + Is 'mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast + Lie in a pitch'd field. + +ALCIBIADES Ay, defiled land, my lord. + +First Lord We are so virtuously bound-- + +TIMON And so + Am I to you. + +Second Lord So infinitely endear'd-- + +TIMON All to you. Lights, more lights! + +First Lord The best of happiness, + Honour and fortunes, keep with you, Lord Timon! + +TIMON Ready for his friends. + + [Exeunt all but APEMANTUS and TIMON] + +APEMANTUS What a coil's here! + Serving of becks and jutting-out of bums! + I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums + That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs: + Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs, + Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies. + +TIMON Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I would be + good to thee. + +APEMANTUS No, I'll nothing: for if I should be bribed too, + there would be none left to rail upon thee, and then + thou wouldst sin the faster. Thou givest so long, + Timon, I fear me thou wilt give away thyself in + paper shortly: what need these feasts, pomps and + vain-glories? + +TIMON Nay, an you begin to rail on society once, I am + sworn not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come + with better music. + + [Exit] + +APEMANTUS So: + Thou wilt not hear me now; thou shalt not then: + I'll lock thy heaven from thee. + O, that men's ears should be + To counsel deaf, but not to flattery! + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I A Senator's house. + + + [Enter Senator, with papers in his hand] + +Senator And late, five thousand: to Varro and to Isidore + He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, + Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion + Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. + If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog, + And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. + If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more + Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, + Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, + And able horses. No porter at his gate, + But rather one that smiles and still invites + All that pass by. It cannot hold: no reason + Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho! + Caphis, I say! + + [Enter CAPHIS] + +CAPHIS Here, sir; what is your pleasure? + +Senator Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon; + Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased + With slight denial, nor then silenced when-- + 'Commend me to your master'--and the cap + Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him, + My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn + Out of mine own; his days and times are past + And my reliances on his fracted dates + Have smit my credit: I love and honour him, + But must not break my back to heal his finger; + Immediate are my needs, and my relief + Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, + But find supply immediate. Get you gone: + Put on a most importunate aspect, + A visage of demand; for, I do fear, + When every feather sticks in his own wing, + Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, + Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. + +CAPHIS I go, sir. + +Senator 'I go, sir!'--Take the bonds along with you, + And have the dates in contempt. + +CAPHIS I will, sir. + +Senator Go. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II The same. A hall in Timon's house. + + + [Enter FLAVIUS, with many bills in his hand] + +FLAVIUS No care, no stop! so senseless of expense, + That he will neither know how to maintain it, + Nor cease his flow of riot: takes no account + How things go from him, nor resumes no care + Of what is to continue: never mind + Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. + What shall be done? he will not hear, till feel: + I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. + Fie, fie, fie, fie! + + [Enter CAPHIS, and the Servants of Isidore and Varro] + +CAPHIS Good even, Varro: what, + You come for money? + +Varro's Servant Is't not your business too? + +CAPHIS It is: and yours too, Isidore? + +Isidore's Servant It is so. + +CAPHIS Would we were all discharged! + +Varro's Servant I fear it. + +CAPHIS Here comes the lord. + + [Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and Lords, &c] + +TIMON So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again, + My Alcibiades. With me? what is your will? + +CAPHIS My lord, here is a note of certain dues. + +TIMON Dues! Whence are you? + +CAPHIS Of Athens here, my lord. + +TIMON Go to my steward. + +CAPHIS Please it your lordship, he hath put me off + To the succession of new days this month: + My master is awaked by great occasion + To call upon his own, and humbly prays you + That with your other noble parts you'll suit + In giving him his right. + +TIMON Mine honest friend, + I prithee, but repair to me next morning. + +CAPHIS Nay, good my lord,-- + +TIMON Contain thyself, good friend. + +Varro's Servant One Varro's servant, my good lord,-- + +Isidore's Servant From Isidore; + He humbly prays your speedy payment. + +CAPHIS If you did know, my lord, my master's wants-- + +Varro's Servant 'Twas due on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks And past. + +Isidore's Servant Your steward puts me off, my lord; + And I am sent expressly to your lordship. + +TIMON Give me breath. + I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on; + I'll wait upon you instantly. + + [Exeunt ALCIBIADES and Lords] + + [To FLAVIUS] + + Come hither: pray you, + How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd + With clamourous demands of date-broke bonds, + And the detention of long-since-due debts, + Against my honour? + +FLAVIUS Please you, gentlemen, + The time is unagreeable to this business: + Your importunacy cease till after dinner, + That I may make his lordship understand + Wherefore you are not paid. + +TIMON Do so, my friends. See them well entertain'd. + + [Exit] + +FLAVIUS Pray, draw near. + + [Exit] + + [Enter APEMANTUS and Fool] + +CAPHIS Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus: + let's ha' some sport with 'em. + +Varro's Servant Hang him, he'll abuse us. + +Isidore's Servant A plague upon him, dog! + +Varro's Servant How dost, fool? + +APEMANTUS Dost dialogue with thy shadow? + +Varro's Servant I speak not to thee. + +APEMANTUS No,'tis to thyself. + + [To the Fool] + + Come away. + +Isidore's Servant There's the fool hangs on your back already. + +APEMANTUS No, thou stand'st single, thou'rt not on him yet. + +CAPHIS Where's the fool now? + +APEMANTUS He last asked the question. Poor rogues, and + usurers' men! bawds between gold and want! + +All Servants What are we, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Asses. + +All Servants Why? + +APEMANTUS That you ask me what you are, and do not know + yourselves. Speak to 'em, fool. + +Fool How do you, gentlemen? + +All Servants Gramercies, good fool: how does your mistress? + +Fool She's e'en setting on water to scald such chickens + as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth! + +APEMANTUS Good! gramercy. + + [Enter Page] + +Fool Look you, here comes my mistress' page. + +Page [To the Fool] Why, how now, captain! what do you + in this wise company? How dost thou, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer + thee profitably. + +Page Prithee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of + these letters: I know not which is which. + +APEMANTUS Canst not read? + +Page No. + +APEMANTUS There will little learning die then, that day thou + art hanged. This is to Lord Timon; this to + Alcibiades. Go; thou wast born a bastard, and thou't + die a bawd. + +Page Thou wast whelped a dog, and thou shalt famish a + dog's death. Answer not; I am gone. + + [Exit] + +APEMANTUS E'en so thou outrunnest grace. Fool, I will go with + you to Lord Timon's. + +Fool Will you leave me there? + +APEMANTUS If Timon stay at home. You three serve three usurers? + +All Servants Ay; would they served us! + +APEMANTUS So would I,--as good a trick as ever hangman served thief. + +Fool Are you three usurers' men? + +All Servants Ay, fool. + +Fool I think no usurer but has a fool to his servant: my + mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come + to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly, and + go away merry; but they enter my mistress' house + merrily, and go away sadly: the reason of this? + +Varro's Servant I could render one. + +APEMANTUS Do it then, that we may account thee a whoremaster + and a knave; which not-withstanding, thou shalt be + no less esteemed. + +Varro's Servant What is a whoremaster, fool? + +Fool A fool in good clothes, and something like thee. + 'Tis a spirit: sometime't appears like a lord; + sometime like a lawyer; sometime like a philosopher, + with two stones moe than's artificial one: he is + very often like a knight; and, generally, in all + shapes that man goes up and down in from fourscore + to thirteen, this spirit walks in. + +Varro's Servant Thou art not altogether a fool. + +Fool Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much foolery as + I have, so much wit thou lackest. + +APEMANTUS That answer might have become Apemantus. + +All Servants Aside, aside; here comes Lord Timon. + + [Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS] + +APEMANTUS Come with me, fool, come. + +Fool I do not always follow lover, elder brother and + woman; sometime the philosopher. + + [Exeunt APEMANTUS and Fool] + +FLAVIUS Pray you, walk near: I'll speak with you anon. + + [Exeunt Servants] + +TIMON You make me marvel: wherefore ere this time + Had you not fully laid my state before me, + That I might so have rated my expense, + As I had leave of means? + +FLAVIUS You would not hear me, + At many leisures I proposed. + +TIMON Go to: + Perchance some single vantages you took. + When my indisposition put you back: + And that unaptness made your minister, + Thus to excuse yourself. + +FLAVIUS O my good lord, + At many times I brought in my accounts, + Laid them before you; you would throw them off, + And say, you found them in mine honesty. + When, for some trifling present, you have bid me + Return so much, I have shook my head and wept; + Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you + To hold your hand more close: I did endure + Not seldom, nor no slight cheques, when I have + Prompted you in the ebb of your estate + And your great flow of debts. My loved lord, + Though you hear now, too late--yet now's a time-- + The greatest of your having lacks a half + To pay your present debts. + +TIMON Let all my land be sold. + +FLAVIUS 'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and gone; + And what remains will hardly stop the mouth + Of present dues: the future comes apace: + What shall defend the interim? and at length + How goes our reckoning? + +TIMON To Lacedaemon did my land extend. + +FLAVIUS O my good lord, the world is but a word: + Were it all yours to give it in a breath, + How quickly were it gone! + +TIMON You tell me true. + +FLAVIUS If you suspect my husbandry or falsehood, + Call me before the exactest auditors + And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, + When all our offices have been oppress'd + With riotous feeders, when our vaults have wept + With drunken spilth of wine, when every room + Hath blazed with lights and bray'd with minstrelsy, + I have retired me to a wasteful cock, + And set mine eyes at flow. + +TIMON Prithee, no more. + +FLAVIUS Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord! + How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants + This night englutted! Who is not Timon's? + What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is + Lord Timon's? + Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! + Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couch'd. + +TIMON Come, sermon me no further: + No villanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; + Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. + Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the conscience lack, + To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart; + If I would broach the vessels of my love, + And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, + Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use + As I can bid thee speak. + +FLAVIUS Assurance bless your thoughts! + +TIMON And, in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd, + That I account them blessings; for by these + Shall I try friends: you shall perceive how you + Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends. + Within there! Flaminius! Servilius! + + [Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other Servants] + +Servants My lord? my lord? + +TIMON I will dispatch you severally; you to Lord Lucius; + to Lord Lucullus you: I hunted with his honour + to-day: you, to Sempronius: commend me to their + loves, and, I am proud, say, that my occasions have + found time to use 'em toward a supply of money: let + the request be fifty talents. + +FLAMINIUS As you have said, my lord. + +FLAVIUS [Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? hum! + +TIMON Go you, sir, to the senators-- + Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have + Deserved this hearing--bid 'em send o' the instant + A thousand talents to me. + +FLAVIUS I have been bold-- + For that I knew it the most general way-- + To them to use your signet and your name; + But they do shake their heads, and I am here + No richer in return. + +TIMON Is't true? can't be? + +FLAVIUS They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, + That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot + Do what they would; are sorry--you are honourable,-- + But yet they could have wish'd--they know not-- + Something hath been amiss--a noble nature + May catch a wrench--would all were well--'tis pity;-- + And so, intending other serious matters, + After distasteful looks and these hard fractions, + With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods + They froze me into silence. + +TIMON You gods, reward them! + Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows + Have their ingratitude in them hereditary: + Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; + 'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; + And nature, as it grows again toward earth, + Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy. + + [To a Servant] + + Go to Ventidius. + + [To FLAVIUS] + + Prithee, be not sad, + Thou art true and honest; ingeniously I speak. + No blame belongs to thee. + + [To Servant] + + Ventidius lately + Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd + Into a great estate: when he was poor, + Imprison'd and in scarcity of friends, + I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from me; + Bid him suppose some good necessity + Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd + With those five talents. + + [Exit Servant] + + [To FLAVIUS] + + That had, give't these fellows + To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think, + That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink. + +FLAVIUS I would I could not think it: that thought is + bounty's foe; + Being free itself, it thinks all others so. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I A room in Lucullus' house. + + + [FLAMINIUS waiting. Enter a Servant to him] + +Servant I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you. + +FLAMINIUS I thank you, sir. + + [Enter LUCULLUS] + +Servant Here's my lord. + +LUCULLUS [Aside] One of Lord Timon's men? a gift, I + warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt of a silver + basin and ewer to-night. Flaminius, honest + Flaminius; you are very respectively welcome, sir. + Fill me some wine. + + [Exit Servants] + + And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted + gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord + and master? + +FLAMINIUS His health is well sir. + +LUCULLUS I am right glad that his health is well, sir: and + what hast thou there under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius? + +FLAMINIUS 'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; which, in my + lord's behalf, I come to entreat your honour to + supply; who, having great and instant occasion to + use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to + furnish him, nothing doubting your present + assistance therein. + +LUCULLUS La, la, la, la! 'nothing doubting,' says he? Alas, + good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not + keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha' + dined with him, and told him on't, and come again to + supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less, + and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning + by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty + is his: I ha' told him on't, but I could ne'er get + him from't. + + [Re-enter Servant, with wine] + +Servant Please your lordship, here is the wine. + +LUCULLUS Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee. + +FLAMINIUS Your lordship speaks your pleasure. + +LUCULLUS I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt + spirit--give thee thy due--and one that knows what + belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if + the time use thee well: good parts in thee. + + [To Servant] + + Get you gone, sirrah. + + [Exit Servant] + + Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a + bountiful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou + knowest well enough, although thou comest to me, + that this is no time to lend money, especially upon + bare friendship, without security. Here's three + solidares for thee: good boy, wink at me, and say + thou sawest me not. Fare thee well. + +FLAMINIUS Is't possible the world should so much differ, + And we alive that lived? Fly, damned baseness, + To him that worships thee! + + [Throwing the money back] + +LUCULLUS Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master. + + [Exit] + +FLAMINIUS May these add to the number that may scald thee! + Let moulten coin be thy damnation, + Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! + Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, + It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, + I feel master's passion! this slave, + Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him: + Why should it thrive and turn to nutriment, + When he is turn'd to poison? + O, may diseases only work upon't! + And, when he's sick to death, let not that part of nature + Which my lord paid for, be of any power + To expel sickness, but prolong his hour! + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A public place. + + + [Enter LUCILIUS, with three Strangers] + +LUCILIUS Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very good friend, and + an honourable gentleman. + +First Stranger We know him for no less, though we are but strangers + to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and + which I hear from common rumours: now Lord Timon's + happy hours are done and past, and his estate + shrinks from him. + +LUCILIUS Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot want for money. + +Second Stranger But believe you this, my lord, that, not long ago, + one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus to borrow + so many talents, nay, urged extremely for't and + showed what necessity belonged to't, and yet was denied. + +LUCILIUS How! + +Second Stranger I tell you, denied, my lord. + +LUCILIUS What a strange case was that! now, before the gods, + I am ashamed on't. Denied that honourable man! + there was very little honour showed in't. For my own + part, I must needs confess, I have received some + small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels + and such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his; + yet, had he mistook him and sent to me, I should + ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents. + + [Enter SERVILIUS] + +SERVILIUS See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; + I have sweat to see his honour. My honoured lord,-- + + [To LUCIUS] + +LUCILIUS Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well: + commend me to thy honourable virtuous lord, my very + exquisite friend. + +SERVILIUS May it please your honour, my lord hath sent-- + +LUCILIUS Ha! what has he sent? I am so much endeared to + that lord; he's ever sending: how shall I thank + him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now? + +SERVILIUS Has only sent his present occasion now, my lord; + requesting your lordship to supply his instant use + with so many talents. + +LUCILIUS I know his lordship is but merry with me; + He cannot want fifty five hundred talents. + +SERVILIUS But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. + If his occasion were not virtuous, + I should not urge it half so faithfully. + +LUCILIUS Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? + +SERVILIUS Upon my soul,'tis true, sir. + +LUCILIUS What a wicked beast was I to disfurnish myself + against such a good time, when I might ha' shown + myself honourable! how unluckily it happened, that I + should purchase the day before for a little part, + and undo a great deal of honoured! Servilius, now, + before the gods, I am not able to do,--the more + beast, I say:--I was sending to use Lord Timon + myself, these gentlemen can witness! but I would + not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done't now. + Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I + hope his honour will conceive the fairest of me, + because I have no power to be kind: and tell him + this from me, I count it one of my greatest + afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an + honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you + befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him? + +SERVILIUS Yes, sir, I shall. + +LUCILIUS I'll look you out a good turn, Servilius. + + [Exit SERVILIUS] + + True as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed; + And he that's once denied will hardly speed. + + [Exit] + +First Stranger Do you observe this, Hostilius? + +Second Stranger Ay, too well. + +First Stranger Why, this is the world's soul; and just of the + same piece + Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him + His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in + My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, + And kept his credit with his purse, + Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money + Has paid his men their wages: he ne'er drinks, + But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; + And yet--O, see the monstrousness of man + When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!-- + He does deny him, in respect of his, + What charitable men afford to beggars. + +Third Stranger Religion groans at it. + +First Stranger For mine own part, + I never tasted Timon in my life, + Nor came any of his bounties over me, + To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest, + For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue + And honourable carriage, + Had his necessity made use of me, + I would have put my wealth into donation, + And the best half should have return'd to him, + So much I love his heart: but, I perceive, + Men must learn now with pity to dispense; + For policy sits above conscience. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE III A room in Sempronius' house. + + + [Enter SEMPRONIUS, and a Servant of TIMON's] + +SEMPRONIUS Must he needs trouble me in 't,--hum!--'bove + all others? + He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; + And now Ventidius is wealthy too, + Whom he redeem'd from prison: all these + Owe their estates unto him. + +Servant My lord, + They have all been touch'd and found base metal, for + They have au denied him. + +SEMPRONIUS How! have they denied him? + Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? + And does he send to me? Three? hum! + It shows but little love or judgment in him: + Must I be his last refuge! His friends, like + physicians, + Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure upon me? + Has much disgraced me in't; I'm angry at him, + That might have known my place: I see no sense for't, + But his occasion might have woo'd me first; + For, in my conscience, I was the first man + That e'er received gift from him: + And does he think so backwardly of me now, + That I'll requite its last? No: + So it may prove an argument of laughter + To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a fool. + I'ld rather than the worth of thrice the sum, + Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; + I'd such a courage to do him good. But now return, + And with their faint reply this answer join; + Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin. + + [Exit] + +Servant Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly villain. The + devil knew not what he did when he made man + politic; he crossed himself by 't: and I cannot + think but, in the end, the villainies of man will + set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to + appear foul! takes virtuous copies to be wicked, + like those that under hot ardent zeal would set + whole realms on fire: Of such a nature is his + politic love. + This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled, + Save only the gods: now his friends are dead, + Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards + Many a bounteous year must be employ'd + Now to guard sure their master. + And this is all a liberal course allows; + Who cannot keep his wealth must keep his house. + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE IV The same. A hall in Timon's house. + + + [Enter two Servants of Varro, and the Servant of + LUCIUS, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, and other + Servants of TIMON's creditors, waiting his coming out] + +Varro's +First Servant Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius. + +TITUS The like to you kind Varro. + +HORTENSIUS Lucius! + What, do we meet together? + +Lucilius' Servant Ay, and I think + One business does command us all; for mine Is money. + +TITUS So is theirs and ours. + + [Enter PHILOTUS] + +Lucilius' Servant And Sir Philotus too! + +PHILOTUS Good day at once. + +Lucilius' Servant Welcome, good brother. + What do you think the hour? + +PHILOTUS Labouring for nine. + +Lucilius' Servant So much? + +PHILOTUS Is not my lord seen yet? + +Lucilius' Servant Not yet. + +PHILOTUS I wonder on't; he was wont to shine at seven. + +Lucilius' Servant Ay, but the days are wax'd shorter with him: + You must consider that a prodigal course + Is like the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable. + I fear 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's purse; + That is one may reach deep enough, and yet + Find little. + +PHILOTUS I am of your fear for that. + +TITUS I'll show you how to observe a strange event. + Your lord sends now for money. + +HORTENSIUS Most true, he does. + +TITUS And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, + For which I wait for money. + +HORTENSIUS It is against my heart. + +Lucilius' Servant Mark, how strange it shows, + Timon in this should pay more than he owes: + And e'en as if your lord should wear rich jewels, + And send for money for 'em. + +HORTENSIUS I'm weary of this charge, the gods can witness: + I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, + And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth. + +Varro's +First Servant Yes, mine's three thousand crowns: what's yours? + +Lucilius' Servant Five thousand mine. + +Varro's +First Servant 'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sun, + Your master's confidence was above mine; + Else, surely, his had equall'd. + + Enter FLAMINIUS. + +TITUS One of Lord Timon's men. + +Lucilius' Servant Flaminius! Sir, a word: pray, is my lord ready to + come forth? + +FLAMINIUS No, indeed, he is not. + +TITUS We attend his lordship; pray, signify so much. + +FLAMINIUS I need not tell him that; he knows you are too diligent. + + [Exit] + + [Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled] + +Lucilius' Servant Ha! is not that his steward muffled so? + He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. + +TITUS Do you hear, sir? + +Varro's +Second Servant By your leave, sir,-- + +FLAVIUS What do ye ask of me, my friend? + +TITUS We wait for certain money here, sir. + +FLAVIUS Ay, + If money were as certain as your waiting, + 'Twere sure enough. + Why then preferr'd you not your sums and bills, + When your false masters eat of my lord's meat? + Then they could smile and fawn upon his debts + And take down the interest into their + gluttonous maws. + You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up; + Let me pass quietly: + Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end; + I have no more to reckon, he to spend. + +Lucilius' Servant Ay, but this answer will not serve. + +FLAVIUS If 'twill not serve,'tis not so base as you; + For you serve knaves. + + [Exit] + +Varro's +First Servant How! what does his cashiered worship mutter? + +Varro's +Second Servant No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge + enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no + house to put his head in? such may rail against + great buildings. + + [Enter SERVILIUS] + +TITUS O, here's Servilius; now we shall know some answer. + +SERVILIUS If I might beseech you, gentlemen, to repair some + other hour, I should derive much from't; for, + take't of my soul, my lord leans wondrously to + discontent: his comfortable temper has forsook him; + he's much out of health, and keeps his chamber. + +Lucilius' Servant: Many do keep their chambers are not sick: + And, if it be so far beyond his health, + Methinks he should the sooner pay his debts, + And make a clear way to the gods. + +SERVILIUS Good gods! + +TITUS We cannot take this for answer, sir. + +FLAMINIUS [Within] Servilius, help! My lord! my lord! + + [Enter TIMON, in a rage, FLAMINIUS following] + +TIMON What, are my doors opposed against my passage? + Have I been ever free, and must my house + Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? + The place which I have feasted, does it now, + Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? + +Lucilius' Servant Put in now, Titus. + +TITUS My lord, here is my bill. + +Lucilius' Servant Here's mine. + +HORTENSIUS And mine, my lord. + +Both +Varro's Servants And ours, my lord. + +PHILOTUS All our bills. + +TIMON Knock me down with 'em: cleave me to the girdle. + +Lucilius' Servant Alas, my lord,- + +TIMON Cut my heart in sums. + +TITUS Mine, fifty talents. + +TIMON Tell out my blood. + +Lucilius' Servant Five thousand crowns, my lord. + +TIMON Five thousand drops pays that. + What yours?--and yours? + +Varro's +First Servant My lord,-- + +Varro's +Second Servant My lord,-- + +TIMON Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you! + + [Exit] + +HORTENSIUS 'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps + at their money: these debts may well be called + desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. + + [Exeunt] + + [Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS] + +TIMON They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves. + Creditors? devils! + +FLAVIUS My dear lord,-- + +TIMON What if it should be so? + +FLAVIUS My lord,-- + +TIMON I'll have it so. My steward! + +FLAVIUS Here, my lord. + +TIMON So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again, + Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius: + All, sirrah, all: + I'll once more feast the rascals. + +FLAVIUS O my lord, + You only speak from your distracted soul; + There is not so much left, to furnish out + A moderate table. + +TIMON Be't not in thy care; go, + I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide + Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE V The same. The senate-house. The Senate sitting. + + +First Senator My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's + Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die: + Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. + +Second Senator Most true; the law shall bruise him. + + [Enter ALCIBIADES, with Attendants] + +ALCIBIADES Honour, health, and compassion to the senate! + +First Senator Now, captain? + +ALCIBIADES I am an humble suitor to your virtues; + For pity is the virtue of the law, + And none but tyrants use it cruelly. + It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy + Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood, + Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth + To those that, without heed, do plunge into 't. + He is a man, setting his fate aside, + Of comely virtues: + Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice-- + An honour in him which buys out his fault-- + But with a noble fury and fair spirit, + Seeing his reputation touch'd to death, + He did oppose his foe: + And with such sober and unnoted passion + He did behave his anger, ere 'twas spent, + As if he had but proved an argument. + +First Senator You undergo too strict a paradox, + Striving to make an ugly deed look fair: + Your words have took such pains as if they labour'd + To bring manslaughter into form and set quarrelling + Upon the head of valour; which indeed + Is valour misbegot and came into the world + When sects and factions were newly born: + He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer + The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs + His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, + carelessly, + And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, + To bring it into danger. + If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, + What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill! + +ALCIBIADES My lord,-- + +First Senator You cannot make gross sins look clear: + To revenge is no valour, but to bear. + +ALCIBIADES My lords, then, under favour, pardon me, + If I speak like a captain. + Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, + And not endure all threats? sleep upon't, + And let the foes quietly cut their throats, + Without repugnancy? If there be + Such valour in the bearing, what make we + Abroad? why then, women are more valiant + That stay at home, if bearing carry it, + And the ass more captain than the lion, the felon + Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, + If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, + As you are great, be pitifully good: + Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? + To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust; + But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. + To be in anger is impiety; + But who is man that is not angry? + Weigh but the crime with this. + +Second Senator You breathe in vain. + +ALCIBIADES In vain! his service done + At Lacedaemon and Byzantium + Were a sufficient briber for his life. + +First Senator What's that? + +ALCIBIADES I say, my lords, he has done fair service, + And slain in fight many of your enemies: + How full of valour did he bear himself + In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds! + +Second Senator He has made too much plenty with 'em; + He's a sworn rioter: he has a sin that often + Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner: + If there were no foes, that were enough + To overcome him: in that beastly fury + He has been known to commit outrages, + And cherish factions: 'tis inferr'd to us, + His days are foul and his drink dangerous. + +First Senator He dies. + +ALCIBIADES Hard fate! he might have died in war. + My lords, if not for any parts in him-- + Though his right arm might purchase his own time + And be in debt to none--yet, more to move you, + Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both: + And, for I know your reverend ages love + Security, I'll pawn my victories, all + My honours to you, upon his good returns. + If by this crime he owes the law his life, + Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore + For law is strict, and war is nothing more. + +First Senator We are for law: he dies; urge it no more, + On height of our displeasure: friend or brother, + He forfeits his own blood that spills another. + +ALCIBIADES Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, + I do beseech you, know me. + +Second Senator How! + +ALCIBIADES Call me to your remembrances. + +Third Senator What! + +ALCIBIADES I cannot think but your age has forgot me; + It could not else be, I should prove so base, + To sue, and be denied such common grace: + My wounds ache at you. + +First Senator Do you dare our anger? + 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect; + We banish thee for ever. + +ALCIBIADES Banish me! + Banish your dotage; banish usury, + That makes the senate ugly. + +First Senator If, after two days' shine, Athens contain thee, + Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell + our spirit, + He shall be executed presently. + + [Exeunt Senators] + +ALCIBIADES Now the gods keep you old enough; that you may live + Only in bone, that none may look on you! + I'm worse than mad: I have kept back their foes, + While they have told their money and let out + Their coin upon large interest, I myself + Rich only in large hurts. All those for this? + Is this the balsam that the usuring senate + Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment! + It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; + It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, + That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up + My discontented troops, and lay for hearts. + 'Tis honour with most lands to be at odds; + Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE VI The same. A banqueting-room in Timon's house. + + + [Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. + Enter divers Lords, Senators and others, at + several doors] + +First Lord The good time of day to you, sir. + +Second Lord I also wish it to you. I think this honourable lord + did but try us this other day. + +First Lord Upon that were my thoughts tiring, when we + encountered: I hope it is not so low with him as + he made it seem in the trial of his several friends. + +Second Lord It should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting. + +First Lord I should think so: he hath sent me an earnest + inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me + to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond them, and + I must needs appear. + +Second Lord In like manner was I in debt to my importunate + business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am + sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my + provision was out. + +First Lord I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all + things go. + +Second Lord Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of + you? + +First Lord A thousand pieces. + +Second Lord A thousand pieces! + +First Lord What of you? + +Second Lord He sent to me, sir,--Here he comes. + + [Enter TIMON and Attendants] + +TIMON With all my heart, gentlemen both; and how fare you? + +First Lord Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship. + +Second Lord The swallow follows not summer more willing than we + your lordship. + +TIMON [Aside] Nor more willingly leaves winter; such + summer-birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not + recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the + music awhile, if they will fare so harshly o' the + trumpet's sound; we shall to 't presently. + +First Lord I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship + that I returned you an empty messenger. + +TIMON O, sir, let it not trouble you. + +Second Lord My noble lord,-- + +TIMON Ah, my good friend, what cheer? + +Second Lord My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick of shame, + that, when your lordship this other day sent to me, + I was so unfortunate a beggar. + +TIMON Think not on 't, sir. + +Second Lord If you had sent but two hours before,-- + +TIMON Let it not cumber your better remembrance. + + [The banquet brought in] + + Come, bring in all together. + +Second Lord All covered dishes! + +First Lord Royal cheer, I warrant you. + +Third Lord Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield + it. + +First Lord How do you? What's the news? + +Third Lord Alcibiades is banished: hear you of it? + + +First Lord | + | Alcibiades banished! +Second Lord | + + +Third Lord 'Tis so, be sure of it. + +First Lord How! how! + +Second Lord I pray you, upon what? + +TIMON My worthy friends, will you draw near? + +Third Lord I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward. + +Second Lord This is the old man still. + +Third Lord Will 't hold? will 't hold? + +Second Lord It does: but time will--and so-- + +Third Lord I do conceive. + +TIMON Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to + the lip of his mistress: your diet shall be in all + places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let + the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place: + sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. + + You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with + thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves + praised: but reserve still to give, lest your + deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that + one need not lend to another; for, were your + godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the + gods. Make the meat be beloved more than the man + that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without + a score of villains: if there sit twelve women at + the table, let a dozen of them be--as they are. The + rest of your fees, O gods--the senators of Athens, + together with the common lag of people--what is + amiss in them, you gods, make suitable for + destruction. For these my present friends, as they + are to me nothing, so in nothing bless them, and to + nothing are they welcome. + + Uncover, dogs, and lap. + + [The dishes are uncovered and seen to be full of + warm water] + +Some Speak What does his lordship mean? + +Some Others I know not. + +TIMON May you a better feast never behold, + You knot of mouth-friends I smoke and lukewarm water + Is your perfection. This is Timon's last; + Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries, + Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces + Your reeking villany. + + [Throwing the water in their faces] + + Live loathed and long, + Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, + Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, + You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, + Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks! + Of man and beast the infinite malady + Crust you quite o'er! What, dost thou go? + Soft! take thy physic first--thou too--and thou;-- + Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. + + [Throws the dishes at them, and drives them out] + + What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast, + Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest. + Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be + Of Timon man and all humanity! + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter the Lords, Senators, &c] + +First Lord How now, my lords! + +Second Lord Know you the quality of Lord Timon's fury? + +Third Lord Push! did you see my cap? + +Fourth Lord I have lost my gown. + +First Lord He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him. + He gave me a jewel th' other day, and now he has + beat it out of my hat: did you see my jewel? + +Third Lord Did you see my cap? + +Second Lord Here 'tis. + +Fourth Lord Here lies my gown. + +First Lord Let's make no stay. + +Second Lord Lord Timon's mad. + +Third Lord I feel 't upon my bones. + +Fourth Lord One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Without the walls of Athens. + + + [Enter TIMON] + +TIMON Let me look back upon thee. O thou wall, + That girdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth, + And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! + Obedience fail in children! slaves and fools, + Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, + And minister in their steads! to general filths + Convert o' the instant, green virginity, + Do 't in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; + Rather than render back, out with your knives, + And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal! + Large-handed robbers your grave masters are, + And pill by law. Maid, to thy master's bed; + Thy mistress is o' the brothel! Son of sixteen, + pluck the lined crutch from thy old limping sire, + With it beat out his brains! Piety, and fear, + Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, + Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, + Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, + Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, + Decline to your confounding contraries, + And let confusion live! Plagues, incident to men, + Your potent and infectious fevers heap + On Athens, ripe for stroke! Thou cold sciatica, + Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt + As lamely as their manners. Lust and liberty + Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth, + That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, + And drown themselves in riot! Itches, blains, + Sow all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop + Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath, + at their society, as their friendship, may + merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee, + But nakedness, thou detestable town! + Take thou that too, with multiplying bans! + Timon will to the woods; where he shall find + The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. + The gods confound--hear me, you good gods all-- + The Athenians both within and out that wall! + And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow + To the whole race of mankind, high and low! Amen. + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II Athens. A room in Timon's house. + + + [Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three Servants] + +First Servant Hear you, master steward, where's our master? + Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining? + +FLAVIUS Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? + Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, + I am as poor as you. + +First Servant Such a house broke! + So noble a master fall'n! All gone! and not + One friend to take his fortune by the arm, + And go along with him! + +Second Servant As we do turn our backs + From our companion thrown into his grave, + So his familiars to his buried fortunes + Slink all away, leave their false vows with him, + Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self, + A dedicated beggar to the air, + With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, + Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows. + + [Enter other Servants] + +FLAVIUS All broken implements of a ruin'd house. + +Third Servant Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery; + That see I by our faces; we are fellows still, + Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark, + And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, + Hearing the surges threat: we must all part + Into this sea of air. + +FLAVIUS Good fellows all, + The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you. + Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake, + Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say, + As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, + 'We have seen better days.' Let each take some; + Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more: + Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. + + [Servants embrace, and part several ways] + + O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! + Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, + Since riches point to misery and contempt? + Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live + But in a dream of friendship? + To have his pomp and all what state compounds + But only painted, like his varnish'd friends? + Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart, + Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood, + When man's worst sin is, he does too much good! + Who, then, dares to be half so kind again? + For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. + My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed, + Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes + Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! + He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat + Of monstrous friends, nor has he with him to + Supply his life, or that which can command it. + I'll follow and inquire him out: + I'll ever serve his mind with my best will; + Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III Woods and cave, near the seashore. + + + [Enter TIMON, from the cave] + + O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth + Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb + Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb, + Whose procreation, residence, and birth, + Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes; + The greater scorns the lesser: not nature, + To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune, + But by contempt of nature. + Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord; + The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, + The beggar native honour. + It is the pasture lards the rother's sides, + The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares, + In purity of manhood stand upright, + And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be, + So are they all; for every grise of fortune + Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate + Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique; + There's nothing level in our cursed natures, + But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd + All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! + His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: + Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots! + + [Digging] + + Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate + With thy most operant poison! What is here? + Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, + I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens! + Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, + Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. + Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this + Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, + Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: + This yellow slave + Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed, + Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves + And give them title, knee and approbation + With senators on the bench: this is it + That makes the wappen'd widow wed again; + She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores + Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices + To the April day again. Come, damned earth, + Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds + Among the route of nations, I will make thee + Do thy right nature. + + [March afar off] + + Ha! a drum? Thou'rt quick, + But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief, + When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand. + Nay, stay thou out for earnest. + + [Keeping some gold] + + [Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in + warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA] + +ALCIBIADES What art thou there? speak. + +TIMON A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart, + For showing me again the eyes of man! + +ALCIBIADES What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, + That art thyself a man? + +TIMON I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind. + For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, + That I might love thee something. + +ALCIBIADES I know thee well; + But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. + +TIMON I know thee too; and more than that I know thee, + I not desire to know. Follow thy drum; + With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules: + Religious canons, civil laws are cruel; + Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine + Hath in her more destruction than thy sword, + For all her cherubim look. + +PHRYNIA Thy lips rot off! + +TIMON I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns + To thine own lips again. + +ALCIBIADES How came the noble Timon to this change? + +TIMON As the moon does, by wanting light to give: + But then renew I could not, like the moon; + There were no suns to borrow of. + +ALCIBIADES Noble Timon, + What friendship may I do thee? + +TIMON None, but to + Maintain my opinion. + +ALCIBIADES What is it, Timon? + +TIMON Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou + wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art + a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for + thou art a man! + +ALCIBIADES I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. + +TIMON Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. + +ALCIBIADES I see them now; then was a blessed time. + +TIMON As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots. + +TIMANDRA Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world + Voiced so regardfully? + +TIMON Art thou Timandra? + +TIMANDRA Yes. + +TIMON Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee; + Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. + Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves + For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth + To the tub-fast and the diet. + +TIMANDRA Hang thee, monster! + +ALCIBIADES Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits + Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. + I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, + The want whereof doth daily make revolt + In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved, + How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, + Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, + But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,-- + +TIMON I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone. + +ALCIBIADES I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. + +TIMON How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble? + I had rather be alone. + +ALCIBIADES Why, fare thee well: + Here is some gold for thee. + +TIMON Keep it, I cannot eat it. + +ALCIBIADES When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,-- + +TIMON Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens? + +ALCIBIADES Ay, Timon, and have cause. + +TIMON The gods confound them all in thy conquest; + And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd! + +ALCIBIADES Why me, Timon? + +TIMON That, by killing of villains, + Thou wast born to conquer my country. + Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on; + Be as a planetary plague, when Jove + Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison + In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one: + Pity not honour'd age for his white beard; + He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron; + It is her habit only that is honest, + Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek + Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps, + That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, + Are not within the leaf of pity writ, + But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe, + Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; + Think it a bastard, whom the oracle + Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, + And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects; + Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes; + Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, + Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, + Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers: + Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, + Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. + +ALCIBIADES Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the gold thou + givest me, + Not all thy counsel. + +TIMON Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse + upon thee! + + +PHRYNIA | + | Give us some gold, good Timon: hast thou more? +TIMANDRA | + + +TIMON Enough to make a whore forswear her trade, + And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you sluts, + Your aprons mountant: you are not oathable, + Although, I know, you 'll swear, terribly swear + Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues + The immortal gods that hear you,--spare your oaths, + I'll trust to your conditions: be whores still; + And he whose pious breath seeks to convert you, + Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up; + Let your close fire predominate his smoke, + And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six months, + Be quite contrary: and thatch your poor thin roofs + With burthens of the dead;--some that were hang'd, + No matter:--wear them, betray with them: whore still; + Paint till a horse may mire upon your face, + A pox of wrinkles! + + +PHRYNIA | + | Well, more gold: what then? +TIMANDRA | Believe't, that we'll do any thing for gold. + + +TIMON Consumptions sow + In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, + And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, + That he may never more false title plead, + Nor sound his quillets shrilly: hoar the flamen, + That scolds against the quality of flesh, + And not believes himself: down with the nose, + Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away + Of him that, his particular to foresee, + Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate + ruffians bald; + And let the unscarr'd braggarts of the war + Derive some pain from you: plague all; + That your activity may defeat and quell + The source of all erection. There's more gold: + Do you damn others, and let this damn you, + And ditches grave you all! + + +PHRYNIA | + | More counsel with more money, bounteous Timon. +TIMANDRA | + + +TIMON More whore, more mischief first; I have given you earnest. + +ALCIBIADES Strike up the drum towards Athens! Farewell, Timon: + If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. + +TIMON If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. + +ALCIBIADES I never did thee harm. + +TIMON Yes, thou spokest well of me. + +ALCIBIADES Call'st thou that harm? + +TIMON Men daily find it. Get thee away, and take + Thy beagles with thee. + +ALCIBIADES We but offend him. Strike! + + [Drum beats. Exeunt ALCIBIADES, PHRYNIA, + and TIMANDRA] + +TIMON That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, + Should yet be hungry! Common mother, thou, + + [Digging] + + Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast, + Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, + Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, + Engenders the black toad and adder blue, + The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm, + With all the abhorred births below crisp heaven + Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; + Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, + From forth thy plenteous bosom, one poor root! + Ensear thy fertile and conceptious womb, + Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! + Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears; + Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face + Hath to the marbled mansion all above + Never presented!--O, a root,--dear thanks!-- + Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas; + Whereof ungrateful man, with liquorish draughts + And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, + That from it all consideration slips! + + [Enter APEMANTUS] + + More man? plague, plague! + +APEMANTUS I was directed hither: men report + Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them. + +TIMON 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep a dog, + Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee! + +APEMANTUS This is in thee a nature but infected; + A poor unmanly melancholy sprung + From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? + This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? + Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; + Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot + That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, + By putting on the cunning of a carper. + Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive + By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee, + And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe, + Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, + And call it excellent: thou wast told thus; + Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome + To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just + That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again, + Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness. + +TIMON Were I like thee, I'ld throw away myself. + +APEMANTUS Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; + A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st + That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, + Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moss'd trees, + That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels, + And skip where thou point'st out? will the + cold brook, + Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, + To cure thy o'er-night's surfeit? Call the creatures + Whose naked natures live in an the spite + Of wreakful heaven, whose bare unhoused trunks, + To the conflicting elements exposed, + Answer mere nature; bid them flatter thee; + O, thou shalt find-- + +TIMON A fool of thee: depart. + +APEMANTUS I love thee better now than e'er I did. + +TIMON I hate thee worse. + +APEMANTUS Why? + +TIMON Thou flatter'st misery. + +APEMANTUS I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff. + +TIMON Why dost thou seek me out? + +APEMANTUS To vex thee. + +TIMON Always a villain's office or a fool's. + Dost please thyself in't? + +APEMANTUS Ay. + +TIMON What! a knave too? + +APEMANTUS If thou didst put this sour-cold habit on + To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou + Dost it enforcedly; thou'ldst courtier be again, + Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery + Outlives encertain pomp, is crown'd before: + The one is filling still, never complete; + The other, at high wish: best state, contentless, + Hath a distracted and most wretched being, + Worse than the worst, content. + Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. + +TIMON Not by his breath that is more miserable. + Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm + With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. + Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded + The sweet degrees that this brief world affords + To such as may the passive drugs of it + Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself + In general riot; melted down thy youth + In different beds of lust; and never learn'd + The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd + The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, + Who had the world as my confectionary, + The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men + At duty, more than I could frame employment, + That numberless upon me stuck as leaves + Do on the oak, hive with one winter's brush + Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare + For every storm that blows: I, to bear this, + That never knew but better, is some burden: + Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time + Hath made thee hard in't. Why shouldst thou hate men? + They never flatter'd thee: what hast thou given? + If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag, + Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff + To some she beggar and compounded thee + Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone! + If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, + Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. + +APEMANTUS Art thou proud yet? + +TIMON Ay, that I am not thee. + +APEMANTUS I, that I was + No prodigal. + +TIMON I, that I am one now: + Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, + I'ld give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone. + That the whole life of Athens were in this! + Thus would I eat it. + + [Eating a root] + +APEMANTUS Here; I will mend thy feast. + + [Offering him a root] + +TIMON First mend my company, take away thyself. + +APEMANTUS So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. + +TIMON 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; + if not, I would it were. + +APEMANTUS What wouldst thou have to Athens? + +TIMON Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt, + Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. + +APEMANTUS Here is no use for gold. + +TIMON The best and truest; + For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. + +APEMANTUS Where liest o' nights, Timon? + +TIMON Under that's above me. + Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus? + +APEMANTUS Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat + it. + +TIMON Would poison were obedient and knew my mind! + +APEMANTUS Where wouldst thou send it? + +TIMON To sauce thy dishes. + +APEMANTUS The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the + extremity of both ends: when thou wast in thy gilt + and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much + curiosity; in thy rags thou knowest none, but art + despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for + thee, eat it. + +TIMON On what I hate I feed not. + +APEMANTUS Dost hate a medlar? + +TIMON Ay, though it look like thee. + +APEMANTUS An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, thou shouldst + have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou + ever know unthrift that was beloved after his means? + +TIMON Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou + ever know beloved? + +APEMANTUS Myself. + +TIMON I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a + dog. + +APEMANTUS What things in the world canst thou nearest compare + to thy flatterers? + +TIMON Women nearest; but men, men are the things + themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, + Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? + +APEMANTUS Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. + +TIMON Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of + men, and remain a beast with the beasts? + +APEMANTUS Ay, Timon. + +TIMON A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t' + attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would + beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would + eat three: if thou wert the fox, the lion would + suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by + the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would + torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a + breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy + greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst + hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the + unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and + make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert + thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse: + wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the + leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to + the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on + thy life: all thy safety were remotion and thy + defence absence. What beast couldst thou be, that + were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art + thou already, that seest not thy loss in + transformation! + +APEMANTUS If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou + mightst have hit upon it here: the commonwealth of + Athens is become a forest of beasts. + +TIMON How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city? + +APEMANTUS Yonder comes a poet and a painter: the plague of + company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it + and give way: when I know not what else to do, I'll + see thee again. + +TIMON When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be + welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog than Apemantus. + +APEMANTUS Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. + +TIMON Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon! + +APEMANTUS A plague on thee! thou art too bad to curse. + +TIMON All villains that do stand by thee are pure. + +APEMANTUS There is no leprosy but what thou speak'st. + +TIMON If I name thee. + I'll beat thee, but I should infect my hands. + +APEMANTUS I would my tongue could rot them off! + +TIMON Away, thou issue of a mangy dog! + Choler does kill me that thou art alive; + I swound to see thee. + +APEMANTUS Would thou wouldst burst! + +TIMON Away, + Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry I shall lose + A stone by thee. + + [Throws a stone at him] + +APEMANTUS Beast! + +TIMON Slave! + +APEMANTUS Toad! + +TIMON Rogue, rogue, rogue! + I am sick of this false world, and will love nought + But even the mere necessities upon 't. + Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; + Lie where the light foam the sea may beat + Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph, + That death in me at others' lives may laugh. + + [To the gold] + + O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce + 'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler + Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! + Thou ever young, fresh, loved and delicate wooer, + Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow + That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, + That solder'st close impossibilities, + And makest them kiss! that speak'st with + every tongue, + To every purpose! O thou touch of hearts! + Think, thy slave man rebels, and by thy virtue + Set them into confounding odds, that beasts + May have the world in empire! + +APEMANTUS Would 'twere so! + But not till I am dead. I'll say thou'st gold: + Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. + +TIMON Throng'd to! + +APEMANTUS Ay. + +TIMON Thy back, I prithee. + +APEMANTUS Live, and love thy misery. + +TIMON Long live so, and so die. + + [Exit APEMANTUS] + + I am quit. + Moe things like men! Eat, Timon, and abhor them. + + [Enter Banditti] + +First Bandit Where should he have this gold? It is some poor + fragment, some slender sort of his remainder: the + mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his + friends, drove him into this melancholy. + +Second Bandit It is noised he hath a mass of treasure. + +Third Bandit Let us make the assay upon him: if he care not + for't, he will supply us easily; if he covetously + reserve it, how shall's get it? + +Second Bandit True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid. + +First Bandit Is not this he? + +Banditti Where? + +Second Bandit 'Tis his description. + +Third Bandit He; I know him. + +Banditti Save thee, Timon. + +TIMON Now, thieves? + +Banditti Soldiers, not thieves. + +TIMON Both too; and women's sons. + +Banditti We are not thieves, but men that much do want. + +TIMON Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. + Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath roots; + Within this mile break forth a hundred springs; + The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips; + The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush + Lays her full mess before you. Want! why want? + +First Bandit We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, + As beasts and birds and fishes. + +TIMON Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; + You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con + That you are thieves profess'd, that you work not + In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft + In limited professions. Rascal thieves, + Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the grape, + Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, + And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; + His antidotes are poison, and he slays + Moe than you rob: take wealth and lives together; + Do villany, do, since you protest to do't, + Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery. + The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction + Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, + And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: + The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves + The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief, + That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen + From general excrement: each thing's a thief: + The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power + Have uncheque'd theft. Love not yourselves: away, + Rob one another. There's more gold. Cut throats: + All that you meet are thieves: to Athens go, + Break open shops; nothing can you steal, + But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this + I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'er! Amen. + +Third Bandit Has almost charmed me from my profession, by + persuading me to it. + +First Bandit 'Tis in the malice of mankind that he thus advises + us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. + +Second Bandit I'll believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. + +First Bandit Let us first see peace in Athens: there is no time + so miserable but a man may be true. + + [Exeunt Banditti] + + [Enter FLAVIUS] + +FLAVIUS O you gods! + Is yond despised and ruinous man my lord? + Full of decay and failing? O monument + And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! + What an alteration of honour + Has desperate want made! + What viler thing upon the earth than friends + Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! + How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, + When man was wish'd to love his enemies! + Grant I may ever love, and rather woo + Those that would mischief me than those that do! + Has caught me in his eye: I will present + My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord, + Still serve him with my life. My dearest master! + +TIMON Away! what art thou? + +FLAVIUS Have you forgot me, sir? + +TIMON Why dost ask that? I have forgot all men; + Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt a man, I have forgot thee. + +FLAVIUS An honest poor servant of yours. + +TIMON Then I know thee not: + I never had honest man about me, I; all + I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villains. + +FLAVIUS The gods are witness, + Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief + For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. + +TIMON What, dost thou weep? Come nearer. Then I + love thee, + Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st + Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give + But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping: + Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping! + +FLAVIUS I beg of you to know me, good my lord, + To accept my grief and whilst this poor wealth lasts + To entertain me as your steward still. + +TIMON Had I a steward + So true, so just, and now so comfortable? + It almost turns my dangerous nature mild. + Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man + Was born of woman. + Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, + You perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim + One honest man--mistake me not--but one; + No more, I pray,--and he's a steward. + How fain would I have hated all mankind! + And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee, + I fell with curses. + Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; + For, by oppressing and betraying me, + Thou mightst have sooner got another service: + For many so arrive at second masters, + Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true-- + For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure-- + Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, + If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men deal gifts, + Expecting in return twenty for one? + +FLAVIUS No, my most worthy master; in whose breast + Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late: + You should have fear'd false times when you did feast: + Suspect still comes where an estate is least. + That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, + Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, + Care of your food and living; and, believe it, + My most honour'd lord, + For any benefit that points to me, + Either in hope or present, I'ld exchange + For this one wish, that you had power and wealth + To requite me, by making rich yourself. + +TIMON Look thee, 'tis so! Thou singly honest man, + Here, take: the gods out of my misery + Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and happy; + But thus condition'd: thou shalt build from men; + Hate all, curse all, show charity to none, + But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, + Ere thou relieve the beggar; give to dogs + What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow 'em, + Debts wither 'em to nothing; be men like + blasted woods, + And may diseases lick up their false bloods! + And so farewell and thrive. + +FLAVIUS O, let me stay, + And comfort you, my master. + +TIMON If thou hatest curses, + Stay not; fly, whilst thou art blest and free: + Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. + + [Exit FLAVIUS. TIMON retires to his cave] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I The woods. Before Timon's cave. + + + [Enter Poet and Painter; TIMON watching + them from his cave] + +Painter As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where + he abides. + +Poet What's to be thought of him? does the rumour hold + for true, that he's so full of gold? + +Painter Certain: Alcibiades reports it; Phrynia and + Timandra had gold of him: he likewise enriched poor + straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'tis said + he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. + +Poet Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends. + +Painter Nothing else: you shall see him a palm in Athens + again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore + 'tis not amiss we tender our loves to him, in this + supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in + us; and is very likely to load our purposes with + what they travail for, if it be a just true report + that goes of his having. + +Poet What have you now to present unto him? + +Painter Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will + promise him an excellent piece. + +Poet I must serve him so too, tell him of an intent + that's coming toward him. + +Painter Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the + time: it opens the eyes of expectation: + performance is ever the duller for his act; and, + but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the + deed of saying is quite out of use. To promise is + most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind + of will or testament which argues a great sickness + in his judgment that makes it. + + [TIMON comes from his cave, behind] + +TIMON [Aside] Excellent workman! thou canst not paint a + man so bad as is thyself. + +Poet I am thinking what I shall say I have provided for + him: it must be a personating of himself; a satire + against the softness of prosperity, with a discovery + of the infinite flatteries that follow youth and opulency. + +TIMON [Aside] Must thou needs stand for a villain in + thine own work? wilt thou whip thine own faults in + other men? Do so, I have gold for thee. + +Poet Nay, let's seek him: + Then do we sin against our own estate, + When we may profit meet, and come too late. + +Painter True; + When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, + Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd light. Come. + +TIMON [Aside] I'll meet you at the turn. What a + god's gold, + That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple + Than where swine feed! + 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark and plough'st the foam, + Settlest admired reverence in a slave: + To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye + Be crown'd with plagues that thee alone obey! + Fit I meet them. + + [Coming forward] + +Poet Hail, worthy Timon! + +Painter Our late noble master! + +TIMON Have I once lived to see two honest men? + +Poet Sir, + Having often of your open bounty tasted, + Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off, + Whose thankless natures--O abhorred spirits!-- + Not all the whips of heaven are large enough: + What! to you, + Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence + To their whole being! I am rapt and cannot cover + The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude + With any size of words. + +TIMON Let it go naked, men may see't the better: + You that are honest, by being what you are, + Make them best seen and known. + +Painter He and myself + Have travail'd in the great shower of your gifts, + And sweetly felt it. + +TIMON Ay, you are honest men. + +Painter We are hither come to offer you our service. + +TIMON Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? + Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. + +Both What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. + +TIMON Ye're honest men: ye've heard that I have gold; + I am sure you have: speak truth; ye're honest men. + +Painter So it is said, my noble lord; but therefore + Came not my friend nor I. + +TIMON Good honest men! Thou draw'st a counterfeit + Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best; + Thou counterfeit'st most lively. + +Painter So, so, my lord. + +TIMON E'en so, sir, as I say. And, for thy fiction, + Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth + That thou art even natural in thine art. + But, for all this, my honest-natured friends, + I must needs say you have a little fault: + Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I + You take much pains to mend. + +Both Beseech your honour + To make it known to us. + +TIMON You'll take it ill. + +Both Most thankfully, my lord. + +TIMON Will you, indeed? + +Both Doubt it not, worthy lord. + +TIMON There's never a one of you but trusts a knave, + That mightily deceives you. + +Both Do we, my lord? + +TIMON Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, + Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, + Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured + That he's a made-up villain. + +Painter I know none such, my lord. + +Poet Nor I. + +TIMON Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold, + Rid me these villains from your companies: + Hang them or stab them, drown them in a draught, + Confound them by some course, and come to me, + I'll give you gold enough. + +Both Name them, my lord, let's know them. + +TIMON You that way and you this, but two in company; + Each man apart, all single and alone, + Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. + If where thou art two villains shall not be, + Come not near him. If thou wouldst not reside + But where one villain is, then him abandon. + Hence, pack! there's gold; you came for gold, ye slaves: + + [To Painter] + + You have work'd for me; there's payment for you: hence! + + [To Poet] + + You are an alchemist; make gold of that. + Out, rascal dogs! + + [Beats them out, and then retires to his cave] + + [Enter FLAVIUS and two Senators] + +FLAVIUS It is in vain that you would speak with Timon; + For he is set so only to himself + That nothing but himself which looks like man + Is friendly with him. + +First Senator Bring us to his cave: + It is our part and promise to the Athenians + To speak with Timon. + +Second Senator At all times alike + Men are not still the same: 'twas time and griefs + That framed him thus: time, with his fairer hand, + Offering the fortunes of his former days, + The former man may make him. Bring us to him, + And chance it as it may. + +FLAVIUS Here is his cave. + Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! + Look out, and speak to friends: the Athenians, + By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee: + Speak to them, noble Timon. + + [TIMON comes from his cave] + +TIMON Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn! Speak, and + be hang'd: + For each true word, a blister! and each false + Be as cauterizing to the root o' the tongue, + Consuming it with speaking! + +First Senator Worthy Timon,-- + +TIMON Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. + +First Senator The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. + +TIMON I thank them; and would send them back the plague, + Could I but catch it for them. + +First Senator O, forget + What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. + The senators with one consent of love + Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought + On special dignities, which vacant lie + For thy best use and wearing. + +Second Senator They confess + Toward thee forgetfulness too general, gross: + Which now the public body, which doth seldom + Play the recanter, feeling in itself + A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal + Of its own fail, restraining aid to Timon; + And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render, + Together with a recompense more fruitful + Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; + Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth + As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs + And write in thee the figures of their love, + Ever to read them thine. + +TIMON You witch me in it; + Surprise me to the very brink of tears: + Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes, + And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy senators. + +First Senator Therefore, so please thee to return with us + And of our Athens, thine and ours, to take + The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, + Allow'd with absolute power and thy good name + Live with authority: so soon we shall drive back + Of Alcibiades the approaches wild, + Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up + His country's peace. + +Second Senator And shakes his threatening sword + Against the walls of Athens. + +First Senator Therefore, Timon,-- + +TIMON Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; thus: + If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, + Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, + That Timon cares not. But if be sack fair Athens, + And take our goodly aged men by the beards, + Giving our holy virgins to the stain + Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war, + Then let him know, and tell him Timon speaks it, + In pity of our aged and our youth, + I cannot choose but tell him, that I care not, + And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not, + While you have throats to answer: for myself, + There's not a whittle in the unruly camp + But I do prize it at my love before + The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you + To the protection of the prosperous gods, + As thieves to keepers. + +FLAVIUS Stay not, all's in vain. + +TIMON Why, I was writing of my epitaph; + it will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness + Of health and living now begins to mend, + And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still; + Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, + And last so long enough! + +First Senator We speak in vain. + +TIMON But yet I love my country, and am not + One that rejoices in the common wreck, + As common bruit doth put it. + +First Senator That's well spoke. + +TIMON Commend me to my loving countrymen,-- + +First Senator These words become your lips as they pass + thorough them. + +Second Senator And enter in our ears like great triumphers + In their applauding gates. + +TIMON Commend me to them, + And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, + Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, + Their pangs of love, with other incident throes + That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain + In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them: + I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath. + +First Senator I like this well; he will return again. + +TIMON I have a tree, which grows here in my close, + That mine own use invites me to cut down, + And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends, + Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree + From high to low throughout, that whoso please + To stop affliction, let him take his haste, + Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, + And hang himself. I pray you, do my greeting. + +FLAVIUS Trouble him no further; thus you still shall find him. + +TIMON Come not to me again: but say to Athens, + Timon hath made his everlasting mansion + Upon the beached verge of the salt flood; + Who once a day with his embossed froth + The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come, + And let my grave-stone be your oracle. + Lips, let sour words go by and language end: + What is amiss plague and infection mend! + Graves only be men's works and death their gain! + Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign. + + [Retires to his cave] + +First Senator His discontents are unremoveably + Coupled to nature. + +Second Senator Our hope in him is dead: let us return, + And strain what other means is left unto us + In our dear peril. + +First Senator It requires swift foot. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Before the walls of Athens. + + + [Enter two Senators and a Messenger] + +First Senator Thou hast painfully discover'd: are his files + As full as thy report? + +Messenger have spoke the least: + Besides, his expedition promises + Present approach. + +Second Senator We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. + +Messenger I met a courier, one mine ancient friend; + Whom, though in general part we were opposed, + Yet our old love made a particular force, + And made us speak like friends: this man was riding + From Alcibiades to Timon's cave, + With letters of entreaty, which imported + His fellowship i' the cause against your city, + In part for his sake moved. + +First Senator Here come our brothers. + + [Enter the Senators from TIMON] + +Third Senator No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect. + The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring + Doth choke the air with dust: in, and prepare: + Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes the snare. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III The woods. Timon's cave, and a rude tomb seen. + + + [Enter a Soldier, seeking TIMON] + +Soldier By all description this should be the place. + Who's here? speak, ho! No answer! What is this? + Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span: + Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man. + Dead, sure; and this his grave. What's on this tomb + I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax: + Our captain hath in every figure skill, + An aged interpreter, though young in days: + Before proud Athens he's set down by this, + Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. + + [Exit] + + + + + TIMON OF ATHENS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE IV Before the walls of Athens. + + + [Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES with his powers] + +ALCIBIADES Sound to this coward and lascivious town + Our terrible approach. + + [A parley sounded] + + [Enter Senators on the walls] + + Till now you have gone on and fill'd the time + With all licentious measure, making your wills + The scope of justice; till now myself and such + As slept within the shadow of your power + Have wander'd with our traversed arms and breathed + Our sufferance vainly: now the time is flush, + When crouching marrow in the bearer strong + Cries of itself 'No more:' now breathless wrong + Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease, + And pursy insolence shall break his wind + With fear and horrid flight. + +First Senator Noble and young, + When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, + Ere thou hadst power or we had cause of fear, + We sent to thee, to give thy rages balm, + To wipe out our ingratitude with loves + Above their quantity. + +Second Senator So did we woo + Transformed Timon to our city's love + By humble message and by promised means: + We were not all unkind, nor all deserve + The common stroke of war. + +First Senator These walls of ours + Were not erected by their hands from whom + You have received your griefs; nor are they such + That these great towers, trophies and schools + should fall + For private faults in them. + +Second Senator Nor are they living + Who were the motives that you first went out; + Shame that they wanted cunning, in excess + Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, + Into our city with thy banners spread: + By decimation, and a tithed death-- + If thy revenges hunger for that food + Which nature loathes--take thou the destined tenth, + And by the hazard of the spotted die + Let die the spotted. + +First Senator All have not offended; + For those that were, it is not square to take + On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands, + Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, + Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage: + Spare thy Athenian cradle and those kin + Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall + With those that have offended: like a shepherd, + Approach the fold and cull the infected forth, + But kill not all together. + +Second Senator What thou wilt, + Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile + Than hew to't with thy sword. + +First Senator Set but thy foot + Against our rampired gates, and they shall ope; + So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, + To say thou'lt enter friendly. + +Second Senator Throw thy glove, + Or any token of thine honour else, + That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress + And not as our confusion, all thy powers + Shall make their harbour in our town, till we + Have seal'd thy full desire. + +ALCIBIADES Then there's my glove; + Descend, and open your uncharged ports: + Those enemies of Timon's and mine own + Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof + Fall and no more: and, to atone your fears + With my more noble meaning, not a man + Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream + Of regular justice in your city's bounds, + But shall be render'd to your public laws + At heaviest answer. + +Both 'Tis most nobly spoken. + +ALCIBIADES Descend, and keep your words. + + [The Senators descend, and open the gates] + + [Enter Soldier] + +Soldier My noble general, Timon is dead; + Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea; + And on his grave-stone this insculpture, which + With wax I brought away, whose soft impression + Interprets for my poor ignorance. + +ALCIBIADES [Reads the epitaph] 'Here lies a + wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft: + Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked + caitiffs left! + Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate: + Pass by and curse thy fill, but pass and stay + not here thy gait.' + These well express in thee thy latter spirits: + Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, + Scorn'dst our brain's flow and those our + droplets which + From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit + Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye + On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead + Is noble Timon: of whose memory + Hereafter more. Bring me into your city, + And I will use the olive with my sword, + Make war breed peace, make peace stint war, make each + Prescribe to other as each other's leech. + Let our drums strike. + + [Exeunt] + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + +SATURNINUS son to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards + declared Emperor. + +BASSIANUS brother to Saturninus; in love with Lavinia. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS a noble Roman, general against the Goths. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS tribune of the people, and brother to Titus. + + +LUCIUS | + | +QUINTUS | + | sons to Titus Andronicus. +MARTIUS | + | +MUTIUS | + + +Young LUCIUS a boy, son to Lucius. + +PUBLIUS son to Marcus the Tribune. + + +SEMPRONIUS | + | +CAIUS | kinsmen to Titus. + | +VALENTINE | + + +AEMILIUS a noble Roman. + + +ALARBUS | + | +DEMETRIUS | sons to Tamora. + | +CHIRON | + + +AARON a Moor, beloved by Tamora. + + A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown; Romans. + (Captain:) + (Messenger:) + (Clown:) + + Goths and Romans. + (First Goth:) + (Second Goth:) + (Third Goth:) + +TAMORA Queen of the Goths. + +LAVINIA daughter of Titus Andronicus. + + A Nurse. (Nurse:) + + Senators, Tribunes, Officers, Soldiers, and + Attendants. + + + +SCENE Rome, and the country near it. + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT I + + + +SCENE I Rome. Before the Capitol. + + + [The Tomb of the ANDRONICI appearing; the Tribunes + and Senators aloft. Enter, below, from one side, + SATURNINUS and his Followers; and, from the other + side, BASSIANUS and his Followers; with drum and colours] + +SATURNINUS Noble patricians, patrons of my right, + Defend the justice of my cause with arms, + And, countrymen, my loving followers, + Plead my successive title with your swords: + I am his first-born son, that was the last + That wore the imperial diadem of Rome; + Then let my father's honours live in me, + Nor wrong mine age with this indignity. + +BASSIANUS Romans, friends, followers, favorers of my right, + If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, + Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, + Keep then this passage to the Capitol + And suffer not dishonour to approach + The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, + To justice, continence and nobility; + But let desert in pure election shine, + And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. + + [Enter MARCUS ANDRONICUS, aloft, with the crown] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Princes, that strive by factions and by friends + Ambitiously for rule and empery, + Know that the people of Rome, for whom we stand + A special party, have, by common voice, + In election for the Roman empery, + Chosen Andronicus, surnamed Pius + For many good and great deserts to Rome: + A nobler man, a braver warrior, + Lives not this day within the city walls: + He by the senate is accit'd home + From weary wars against the barbarous Goths; + That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, + Hath yoked a nation strong, train'd up in arms. + Ten years are spent since first he undertook + This cause of Rome and chastised with arms + Our enemies' pride: five times he hath return'd + Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons + In coffins from the field; + And now at last, laden with horror's spoils, + Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, + Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. + Let us entreat, by honour of his name, + Whom worthily you would have now succeed. + And in the Capitol and senate's right, + Whom you pretend to honour and adore, + That you withdraw you and abate your strength; + Dismiss your followers and, as suitors should, + Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. + +SATURNINUS How fair the tribune speaks to calm my thoughts! + +BASSIANUS Marcus Andronicus, so I do ally + In thy uprightness and integrity, + And so I love and honour thee and thine, + Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, + And her to whom my thoughts are humbled all, + Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament, + That I will here dismiss my loving friends, + And to my fortunes and the people's favor + Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. + + [Exeunt the followers of BASSIANUS] + +SATURNINUS Friends, that have been thus forward in my right, + I thank you all and here dismiss you all, + And to the love and favor of my country + Commit myself, my person and the cause. + + [Exeunt the followers of SATURNINUS] + + Rome, be as just and gracious unto me + As I am confident and kind to thee. + Open the gates, and let me in. + +BASSIANUS Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. + + [Flourish. SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS go up into the Capitol] + + [Enter a Captain] + +Captain Romans, make way: the good Andronicus. + Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion, + Successful in the battles that he fights, + With honour and with fortune is return'd + From where he circumscribed with his sword, + And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. + + [Drums and trumpets sounded. Enter MARTIUS and + MUTIUS; After them, two Men bearing a coffin + covered with black; then LUCIUS and QUINTUS. After + them, TITUS ANDRONICUS; and then TAMORA, with + ALARBUS, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, AARON, and other Goths, + prisoners; Soldiers and people following. The + Bearers set down the coffin, and TITUS speaks] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning weeds! + Lo, as the bark, that hath discharged her fraught, + Returns with precious jading to the bay + From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, + Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs, + To re-salute his country with his tears, + Tears of true joy for his return to Rome. + Thou great defender of this Capitol, + Stand gracious to the rites that we intend! + Romans, of five and twenty valiant sons, + Half of the number that King Priam had, + Behold the poor remains, alive and dead! + These that survive let Rome reward with love; + These that I bring unto their latest home, + With burial amongst their ancestors: + Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe my sword. + Titus, unkind and careless of thine own, + Why suffer'st thou thy sons, unburied yet, + To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? + Make way to lay them by their brethren. + + [The tomb is opened] + + There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, + And sleep in peace, slain in your country's wars! + O sacred receptacle of my joys, + Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, + How many sons of mine hast thou in store, + That thou wilt never render to me more! + +LUCIUS Give us the proudest prisoner of the Goths, + That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile + Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh, + Before this earthy prison of their bones; + That so the shadows be not unappeased, + Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I give him you, the noblest that survives, + The eldest son of this distressed queen. + +TAMORA Stay, Roman brethren! Gracious conqueror, + Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, + A mother's tears in passion for her son: + And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, + O, think my son to be as dear to me! + Sufficeth not that we are brought to Rome, + To beautify thy triumphs and return, + Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke, + But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets, + For valiant doings in their country's cause? + O, if to fight for king and commonweal + Were piety in thine, it is in these. + Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: + Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? + Draw near them then in being merciful: + Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge: + Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Patient yourself, madam, and pardon me. + These are their brethren, whom you Goths beheld + Alive and dead, and for their brethren slain + Religiously they ask a sacrifice: + To this your son is mark'd, and die he must, + To appease their groaning shadows that are gone. + +LUCIUS Away with him! and make a fire straight; + And with our swords, upon a pile of wood, + Let's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed. + + [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS, and MUTIUS, with ALARBUS] + +TAMORA O cruel, irreligious piety! + +CHIRON Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? + +DEMETRIUS Oppose not Scythia to ambitious Rome. + Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive + To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. + Then, madam, stand resolved, but hope withal + The self-same gods that arm'd the Queen of Troy + With opportunity of sharp revenge + Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent, + May favor Tamora, the Queen of Goths-- + When Goths were Goths and Tamora was queen-- + To quit the bloody wrongs upon her foes. + + [Re-enter LUCIUS, QUINTUS, MARTIUS and MUTIUS, with + their swords bloody] + +LUCIUS See, lord and father, how we have perform'd + Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, + And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, + Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the sky. + Remaineth nought, but to inter our brethren, + And with loud 'larums welcome them to Rome. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Let it be so; and let Andronicus + Make this his latest farewell to their souls. + + [Trumpets sounded, and the coffin laid in the tomb] + + In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; + Rome's readiest champions, repose you here in rest, + Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! + Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, + Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, + No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: + In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! + + [Enter LAVINIA] + +LAVINIA In peace and honour live Lord Titus long; + My noble lord and father, live in fame! + Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears + I render, for my brethren's obsequies; + And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy, + Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: + O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, + Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly reserved + The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! + Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, + And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise! + + [Enter, below, MARCUS ANDRONICUS and Tribunes; + re-enter SATURNINUS and BASSIANUS, attended] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Long live Lord Titus, my beloved brother, + Gracious triumpher in the eyes of Rome! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother Marcus. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS And welcome, nephews, from successful wars, + You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! + Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all, + That in your country's service drew your swords: + But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, + That hath aspired to Solon's happiness + And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. + Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, + Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been, + Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, + This palliament of white and spotless hue; + And name thee in election for the empire, + With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: + Be candidatus then, and put it on, + And help to set a head on headless Rome. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS A better head her glorious body fits + Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: + What should I don this robe, and trouble you? + Be chosen with proclamations to-day, + To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life, + And set abroad new business for you all? + Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, + And led my country's strength successfully, + And buried one and twenty valiant sons, + Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, + In right and service of their noble country + Give me a staff of honour for mine age, + But not a sceptre to control the world: + Upright he held it, lords, that held it last. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the empery. + +SATURNINUS Proud and ambitious tribune, canst thou tell? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Patience, Prince Saturninus. + +SATURNINUS Romans, do me right: + Patricians, draw your swords: and sheathe them not + Till Saturninus be Rome's emperor. + Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, + Rather than rob me of the people's hearts! + +LUCIUS Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good + That noble-minded Titus means to thee! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Content thee, prince; I will restore to thee + The people's hearts, and wean them from themselves. + +BASSIANUS Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, + But honour thee, and will do till I die: + My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, + I will most thankful be; and thanks to men + Of noble minds is honourable meed. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS People of Rome, and people's tribunes here, + I ask your voices and your suffrages: + Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? + +Tribunes To gratify the good Andronicus, + And gratulate his safe return to Rome, + The people will accept whom he admits. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I make, + That you create your emperor's eldest son, + Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, + Reflect on Rome as Titan's rays on earth, + And ripen justice in this commonweal: + Then, if you will elect by my advice, + Crown him and say 'Long live our emperor!' + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS With voices and applause of every sort, + Patricians and plebeians, we create + Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor, + And say 'Long live our Emperor Saturnine!' + + [A long flourish till they come down] + +SATURNINUS Titus Andronicus, for thy favors done + To us in our election this day, + I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts, + And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: + And, for an onset, Titus, to advance + Thy name and honourable family, + Lavinia will I make my empress, + Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart, + And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: + Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please thee? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS It doth, my worthy lord; and in this match + I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: + And here in sight of Rome to Saturnine, + King and commander of our commonweal, + The wide world's emperor, do I consecrate + My sword, my chariot and my prisoners; + Presents well worthy Rome's imperial lord: + Receive them then, the tribute that I owe, + Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. + +SATURNINUS Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! + How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts + Rome shall record, and when I do forget + The least of these unspeakable deserts, + Romans, forget your fealty to me. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS [To TAMORA] Now, madam, are you prisoner to + an emperor; + To him that, for your honour and your state, + Will use you nobly and your followers. + +SATURNINUS A goodly lady, trust me; of the hue + That I would choose, were I to choose anew. + Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance: + Though chance of war hath wrought this change of cheer, + Thou comest not to be made a scorn in Rome: + Princely shall be thy usage every way. + Rest on my word, and let not discontent + Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you + Can make you greater than the Queen of Goths. + Lavinia, you are not displeased with this? + +LAVINIA Not I, my lord; sith true nobility + Warrants these words in princely courtesy. + +SATURNINUS Thanks, sweet Lavinia. Romans, let us go; + Ransomless here we set our prisoners free: + Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and drum. + + [Flourish. SATURNINUS courts TAMORA in dumb show] + +BASSIANUS Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid is mine. + + [Seizing LAVINIA] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS How, sir! are you in earnest then, my lord? + +BASSIANUS Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal + To do myself this reason and this right. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS 'Suum cuique' is our Roman justice: + This prince in justice seizeth but his own. + +LUCIUS And that he will, and shall, if Lucius live. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, avaunt! Where is the emperor's guard? + Treason, my lord! Lavinia is surprised! + +SATURNINUS Surprised! by whom? + +BASSIANUS By him that justly may + Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. + + [Exeunt BASSIANUS and MARCUS with LAVINIA] + +MUTIUS Brothers, help to convey her hence away, + And with my sword I'll keep this door safe. + + [Exeunt LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring her back. + +MUTIUS My lord, you pass not here. + + +TITUS ANDRONICUS What, villain boy! + Barr'st me my way in Rome? + + [Stabbing MUTIUS] + +MUTIUS Help, Lucius, help! + + [Dies] + + [During the fray, SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, + CHIRON and AARON go out and re-enter, above] + + [Re-enter LUCIUS] + +LUCIUS My lord, you are unjust, and, more than so, + In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine; + My sons would never so dishonour me: + Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. + +LUCIUS Dead, if you will; but not to be his wife, + That is another's lawful promised love. + + [Exit] + +SATURNINUS No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her not, + Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: + I'll trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; + Thee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, + Confederates all thus to dishonour me. + Was there none else in Rome to make a stale, + But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, + Agree these deeds with that proud brag of thine, + That said'st I begg'd the empire at thy hands. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O monstrous! what reproachful words are these? + +SATURNINUS But go thy ways; go, give that changing piece + To him that flourish'd for her with his sword + A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; + One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, + To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS These words are razors to my wounded heart. + +SATURNINUS And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen of Goths, + That like the stately Phoebe 'mongst her nymphs + Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, + If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice, + Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride, + And will create thee empress of Rome, + Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my choice? + And here I swear by all the Roman gods, + Sith priest and holy water are so near + And tapers burn so bright and every thing + In readiness for Hymenaeus stand, + I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, + Or climb my palace, till from forth this place + I lead espoused my bride along with me. + +TAMORA And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome I swear, + If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, + She will a handmaid be to his desires, + A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. + +SATURNINUS Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon. Lords, accompany + Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, + Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, + Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: + There shall we consummate our spousal rites. + + [Exeunt all but TITUS] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not bid to wait upon this bride. + Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone, + Dishonour'd thus, and challenged of wrongs? + + [Re-enter MARCUS, LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Titus, see, O, see what thou hast done! + In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, + Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed + That hath dishonour'd all our family; + Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! + +LUCIUS But let us give him burial, as becomes; + Give Mutius burial with our brethren. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Traitors, away! he rests not in this tomb: + This monument five hundred years hath stood, + Which I have sumptuously re-edified: + Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors + Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls: + Bury him where you can; he comes not here. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, this is impiety in you: + My nephew Mutius' deeds do plead for him + He must be buried with his brethren. + +QUINTUS | + | And shall, or him we will accompany. +MARTIUS | + + +TITUS ANDRONICUS 'And shall!' what villain was it that spake + that word? + +QUINTUS He that would vouch it in any place but here. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS What, would you bury him in my despite? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS No, noble Titus, but entreat of thee + To pardon Mutius and to bury him. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, even thou hast struck upon my crest, + And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast wounded: + My foes I do repute you every one; + So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. + +MARTIUS He is not with himself; let us withdraw. + +QUINTUS Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. + + [MARCUS and the Sons of TITUS kneel] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Brother, for in that name doth nature plead,-- + +QUINTUS Father, and in that name doth nature speak,-- + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Speak thou no more, if all the rest will speed. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Renowned Titus, more than half my soul,-- + +LUCIUS Dear father, soul and substance of us all,-- + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter + His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, + That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. + Thou art a Roman; be not barbarous: + The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajax + That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son + Did graciously plead for his funerals: + Let not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy + Be barr'd his entrance here. + + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Rise, Marcus, rise. + The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw, + To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome! + Well, bury him, and bury me the next. + + [MUTIUS is put into the tomb] + +LUCIUS There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with thy friends, + Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. + +All [Kneeling] No man shed tears for noble Mutius; + He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, to step out of these dreary dumps, + How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths + Is of a sudden thus advanced in Rome? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I know not, Marcus; but I know it is, + Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell: + Is she not then beholding to the man + That brought her for this high good turn so far? + Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. + + [Flourish. Re-enter, from one side, SATURNINUS + attended, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON and AARON; from + the other, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, and others] + +SATURNINUS So, Bassianus, you have play'd your prize: + God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride! + +BASSIANUS And you of yours, my lord! I say no more, + Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave. + +SATURNINUS Traitor, if Rome have law or we have power, + Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. + +BASSIANUS Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my own, + My truth-betrothed love and now my wife? + But let the laws of Rome determine all; + Meanwhile I am possess'd of that is mine. + +SATURNINUS 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with us; + But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. + +BASSIANUS My lord, what I have done, as best I may, + Answer I must and shall do with my life. + Only thus much I give your grace to know: + By all the duties that I owe to Rome, + This noble gentleman, Lord Titus here, + Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd; + That in the rescue of Lavinia + With his own hand did slay his youngest son, + In zeal to you and highly moved to wrath + To be controll'd in that he frankly gave: + Receive him, then, to favor, Saturnine, + That hath express'd himself in all his deeds + A father and a friend to thee and Rome. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my deeds: + 'Tis thou and those that have dishonour'd me. + Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge, + How I have loved and honour'd Saturnine! + +TAMORA My worthy lord, if ever Tamora + Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine, + Then hear me speak in indifferently for all; + And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past. + +SATURNINUS What, madam! be dishonour'd openly, + And basely put it up without revenge? + +TAMORA Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome forfend + I should be author to dishonour you! + But on mine honour dare I undertake + For good Lord Titus' innocence in all; + Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: + Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; + Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, + Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. + [Aside to SATURNINUS] My lord, be ruled by me, + be won at last; + Dissemble all your griefs and discontents: + You are but newly planted in your throne; + Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, + Upon a just survey, take Titus' part, + And so supplant you for ingratitude, + Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, + Yield at entreats; and then let me alone: + I'll find a day to massacre them all + And raze their faction and their family, + The cruel father and his traitorous sons, + To whom I sued for my dear son's life, + And make them know what 'tis to let a queen + Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain. + + [Aloud] + + Come, come, sweet emperor; come, Andronicus; + Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart + That dies in tempest of thy angry frown. + +SATURNINUS Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath prevail'd. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I thank your majesty, and her, my lord: + These words, these looks, infuse new life in me. + +TAMORA Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, + A Roman now adopted happily, + And must advise the emperor for his good. + This day all quarrels die, Andronicus; + And let it be mine honour, good my lord, + That I have reconciled your friends and you. + For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd + My word and promise to the emperor, + That you will be more mild and tractable. + And fear not lords, and you, Lavinia; + By my advice, all humbled on your knees, + You shall ask pardon of his majesty. + +LUCIUS We do, and vow to heaven and to his highness, + That what we did was mildly as we might, + Tendering our sister's honour and our own. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS That, on mine honour, here I do protest. + +SATURNINUS Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. + +TAMORA Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all be friends: + The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; + I will not be denied: sweet heart, look back. + +SATURNINUS Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's here, + And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, + I do remit these young men's heinous faults: Stand up. + Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, + I found a friend, and sure as death I swore + I would not part a bachelor from the priest. + Come, if the emperor's court can feast two brides, + You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends. + This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS To-morrow, an it please your majesty + To hunt the panther and the hart with me, + With horn and hound we'll give your grace bonjour. + +SATURNINUS Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. + + [Flourish. Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE I Rome. Before the Palace. + + + [Enter AARON] + +AARON Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top, + Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft, + Secure of thunder's crack or lightning flash; + Advanced above pale envy's threatening reach. + As when the golden sun salutes the morn, + And, having gilt the ocean with his beams, + Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach, + And overlooks the highest-peering hills; + So Tamora: + Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, + And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. + Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts, + To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, + And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long + Hast prisoner held, fetter'd in amorous chains + And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes + Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. + Away with slavish weeds and servile thoughts! + I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, + To wait upon this new-made empress. + To wait, said I? to wanton with this queen, + This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, + This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, + And see his shipwreck and his commonweal's. + Holloa! what storm is this? + + [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, braving] + +DEMETRIUS Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit wants edge, + And manners, to intrude where I am graced; + And may, for aught thou know'st, affected be. + +CHIRON Demetrius, thou dost over-ween in all; + And so in this, to bear me down with braves. + 'Tis not the difference of a year or two + Makes me less gracious or thee more fortunate: + I am as able and as fit as thou + To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; + And that my sword upon thee shall approve, + And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. + +AARON [Aside] Clubs, clubs! these lovers will not keep + the peace. + +DEMETRIUS Why, boy, although our mother, unadvised, + Gave you a dancing-rapier by your side, + Are you so desperate grown, to threat your friends? + Go to; have your lath glued within your sheath + Till you know better how to handle it. + +CHIRON Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have, + Full well shalt thou perceive how much I dare. + +DEMETRIUS Ay, boy, grow ye so brave? + + [They draw] + +AARON [Coming forward] Why, how now, lords! + So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, + And maintain such a quarrel openly? + Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge: + I would not for a million of gold + The cause were known to them it most concerns; + Nor would your noble mother for much more + Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome. + For shame, put up. + +DEMETRIUS Not I, till I have sheathed + My rapier in his bosom and withal + Thrust these reproachful speeches down his throat + That he hath breathed in my dishonour here. + +CHIRON For that I am prepared and full resolved. + Foul-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy tongue, + And with thy weapon nothing darest perform! + +AARON Away, I say! + Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore, + This petty brabble will undo us all. + Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous + It is to jet upon a prince's right? + What, is Lavinia then become so loose, + Or Bassianus so degenerate, + That for her love such quarrels may be broach'd + Without controlment, justice, or revenge? + Young lords, beware! and should the empress know + This discord's ground, the music would not please. + +CHIRON I care not, I, knew she and all the world: + I love Lavinia more than all the world. + +DEMETRIUS Youngling, learn thou to make some meaner choice: + Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. + +AARON Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in Rome + How furious and impatient they be, + And cannot brook competitors in love? + I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths + By this device. + +CHIRON Aaron, a thousand deaths + Would I propose to achieve her whom I love. + +AARON To achieve her! how? + +DEMETRIUS Why makest thou it so strange? + She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; + She is a woman, therefore may be won; + She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. + What, man! more water glideth by the mill + Than wots the miller of; and easy it is + Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: + Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother. + Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. + +AARON [Aside] Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. + +DEMETRIUS Then why should he despair that knows to court it + With words, fair looks and liberality? + What, hast not thou full often struck a doe, + And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? + +AARON Why, then, it seems, some certain snatch or so + Would serve your turns. + +CHIRON Ay, so the turn were served. + +DEMETRIUS Aaron, thou hast hit it. + +AARON Would you had hit it too! + Then should not we be tired with this ado. + Why, hark ye, hark ye! and are you such fools + To square for this? would it offend you, then + That both should speed? + +CHIRON Faith, not me. + +DEMETRIUS Nor me, so I were one. + +AARON For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar: + 'Tis policy and stratagem must do + That you affect; and so must you resolve, + That what you cannot as you would achieve, + You must perforce accomplish as you may. + Take this of me: Lucrece was not more chaste + Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. + A speedier course than lingering languishment + Must we pursue, and I have found the path. + My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; + There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: + The forest walks are wide and spacious; + And many unfrequented plots there are + Fitted by kind for rape and villany: + Single you thither then this dainty doe, + And strike her home by force, if not by words: + This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. + Come, come, our empress, with her sacred wit + To villany and vengeance consecrate, + Will we acquaint with all that we intend; + And she shall file our engines with advice, + That will not suffer you to square yourselves, + But to your wishes' height advance you both. + The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, + The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears: + The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and dull; + There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take + your turns; + There serve your lusts, shadow'd from heaven's eye, + And revel in Lavinia's treasury. + +CHIRON Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice, + +DEMETRIUS Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the stream + To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. + Per Styga, per manes vehor. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE II A forest near Rome. Horns and cry of hounds heard. + + + [Enter TITUS ANDRONICUS, with Hunters, &c., MARCUS, + LUCIUS, QUINTUS, and MARTIUS] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS The hunt is up, the morn is bright and grey, + The fields are fragrant and the woods are green: + Uncouple here and let us make a bay + And wake the emperor and his lovely bride + And rouse the prince and ring a hunter's peal, + That all the court may echo with the noise. + Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, + To attend the emperor's person carefully: + I have been troubled in my sleep this night, + But dawning day new comfort hath inspired. + + [A cry of hounds and horns, winded in a peal. Enter + SATURNINUS, TAMORA, BASSIANUS, LAVINIA, DEMETRIUS, + CHIRON, and Attendants] + + Many good morrows to your majesty; + Madam, to you as many and as good: + I promised your grace a hunter's peal. + +SATURNINUS And you have rung it lustily, my lord; + Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. + +BASSIANUS Lavinia, how say you? + +LAVINIA I say, no; + I have been broad awake two hours and more. + +SATURNINUS Come on, then; horse and chariots let us have, + And to our sport. + + [To TAMORA] + + Madam, now shall ye see + Our Roman hunting. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS I have dogs, my lord, + Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, + And climb the highest promontory top. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS And I have horse will follow where the game + Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the plain. + +DEMETRIUS Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse nor hound, + But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE III A lonely part of the forest. + + + [Enter AARON, with a bag of gold] + +AARON He that had wit would think that I had none, + To bury so much gold under a tree, + And never after to inherit it. + Let him that thinks of me so abjectly + Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, + Which, cunningly effected, will beget + A very excellent piece of villany: + And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest + + [Hides the gold] + + That have their alms out of the empress' chest. + + [Enter TAMORA] + +TAMORA My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st thou sad, + When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? + The birds chant melody on every bush, + The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, + The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind + And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: + Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, + And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, + Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, + As if a double hunt were heard at once, + Let us sit down and mark their yelping noise; + And, after conflict such as was supposed + The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy'd, + When with a happy storm they were surprised + And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, + We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, + Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; + Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds + Be unto us as is a nurse's song + Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep. + +AARON Madam, though Venus govern your desires, + Saturn is dominator over mine: + What signifies my deadly-standing eye, + My silence and my cloudy melancholy, + My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls + Even as an adder when she doth unroll + To do some fatal execution? + No, madam, these are no venereal signs: + Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, + Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. + Hark Tamora, the empress of my soul, + Which never hopes more heaven than rests in thee, + This is the day of doom for Bassianus: + His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day, + Thy sons make pillage of her chastity + And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. + Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, + And give the king this fatal plotted scroll. + Now question me no more; we are espied; + Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, + Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. + +TAMORA Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me than life! + +AARON No more, great empress; Bassianus comes: + Be cross with him; and I'll go fetch thy sons + To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. + + [Exit] + + [Enter BASSIANUS and LAVINIA] + +BASSIANUS Who have we here? Rome's royal empress, + Unfurnish'd of her well-beseeming troop? + Or is it Dian, habited like her, + Who hath abandoned her holy groves + To see the general hunting in this forest? + +TAMORA Saucy controller of our private steps! + Had I the power that some say Dian had, + Thy temples should be planted presently + With horns, as was Actaeon's; and the hounds + Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, + Unmannerly intruder as thou art! + +LAVINIA Under your patience, gentle empress, + 'Tis thought you have a goodly gift in horning; + And to be doubted that your Moor and you + Are singled forth to try experiments: + Jove shield your husband from his hounds to-day! + 'Tis pity they should take him for a stag. + +BASSIANUS Believe me, queen, your swarth Cimmerian + Doth make your honour of his body's hue, + Spotted, detested, and abominable. + Why are you sequester'd from all your train, + Dismounted from your snow-white goodly steed. + And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, + Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, + If foul desire had not conducted you? + +LAVINIA And, being intercepted in your sport, + Great reason that my noble lord be rated + For sauciness. I pray you, let us hence, + And let her joy her raven-colour'd love; + This valley fits the purpose passing well. + +BASSIANUS The king my brother shall have note of this. + +LAVINIA Ay, for these slips have made him noted long: + Good king, to be so mightily abused! + +TAMORA Why have I patience to endure all this? + + [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] + +DEMETRIUS How now, dear sovereign, and our gracious mother! + Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? + +TAMORA Have I not reason, think you, to look pale? + These two have 'ticed me hither to this place: + A barren detested vale, you see it is; + The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, + O'ercome with moss and baleful mistletoe: + Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, + Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: + And when they show'd me this abhorred pit, + They told me, here, at dead time of the night, + A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, + Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins, + Would make such fearful and confused cries + As any mortal body hearing it + Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. + No sooner had they told this hellish tale, + But straight they told me they would bind me here + Unto the body of a dismal yew, + And leave me to this miserable death: + And then they call'd me foul adulteress, + Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms + That ever ear did hear to such effect: + And, had you not by wondrous fortune come, + This vengeance on me had they executed. + Revenge it, as you love your mother's life, + Or be ye not henceforth call'd my children. + +DEMETRIUS This is a witness that I am thy son. + + [Stabs BASSIANUS] + +CHIRON And this for me, struck home to show my strength. + + [Also stabs BASSIANUS, who dies] + +LAVINIA Ay, come, Semiramis, nay, barbarous Tamora, + For no name fits thy nature but thy own! + +TAMORA Give me thy poniard; you shall know, my boys + Your mother's hand shall right your mother's wrong. + +DEMETRIUS Stay, madam; here is more belongs to her; + First thrash the corn, then after burn the straw: + This minion stood upon her chastity, + Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, + And with that painted hope braves your mightiness: + And shall she carry this unto her grave? + +CHIRON An if she do, I would I were an eunuch. + Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, + And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. + +TAMORA But when ye have the honey ye desire, + Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. + +CHIRON I warrant you, madam, we will make that sure. + Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy + That nice-preserved honesty of yours. + +LAVINIA O Tamora! thou bear'st a woman's face,-- + +TAMORA I will not hear her speak; away with her! + +LAVINIA Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but a word. + +DEMETRIUS Listen, fair madam: let it be your glory + To see her tears; but be your heart to them + As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. + +LAVINIA When did the tiger's young ones teach the dam? + O, do not learn her wrath; she taught it thee; + The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to marble; + Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. + Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: + + [To CHIRON] + + Do thou entreat her show a woman pity. + +CHIRON What, wouldst thou have me prove myself a bastard? + +LAVINIA 'Tis true; the raven doth not hatch a lark: + Yet have I heard,--O, could I find it now!-- + The lion moved with pity did endure + To have his princely paws pared all away: + Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, + The whilst their own birds famish in their nests: + O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, + Nothing so kind, but something pitiful! + +TAMORA I know not what it means; away with her! + +LAVINIA O, let me teach thee! for my father's sake, + That gave thee life, when well he might have + slain thee, + Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. + +TAMORA Hadst thou in person ne'er offended me, + Even for his sake am I pitiless. + Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain, + To save your brother from the sacrifice; + But fierce Andronicus would not relent; + Therefore, away with her, and use her as you will, + The worse to her, the better loved of me. + +LAVINIA O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, + And with thine own hands kill me in this place! + For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long; + Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. + +TAMORA What begg'st thou, then? fond woman, let me go. + +LAVINIA 'Tis present death I beg; and one thing more + That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: + O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, + And tumble me into some loathsome pit, + Where never man's eye may behold my body: + Do this, and be a charitable murderer. + +TAMORA So should I rob my sweet sons of their fee: + No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. + +DEMETRIUS Away! for thou hast stay'd us here too long. + +LAVINIA No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beastly creature! + The blot and enemy to our general name! + Confusion fall-- + +CHIRON Nay, then I'll stop your mouth. Bring thou her husband: + This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. + + [DEMETRIUS throws the body of BASSIANUS into the + pit; then exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON, dragging + off LAVINIA] + +TAMORA Farewell, my sons: see that you make her sure. + Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed, + Till all the Andronici be made away. + Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, + And let my spleenful sons this trull deflow'r. + + [Exit] + + [Re-enter AARON, with QUINTUS and MARTIUS] + +AARON Come on, my lords, the better foot before: + Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit + Where I espied the panther fast asleep. + +QUINTUS My sight is very dull, whate'er it bodes. + +MARTIUS And mine, I promise you; were't not for shame, + Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. + + [Falls into the pit] + +QUINTUS What art thou fall'n? What subtle hole is this, + Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing briers, + Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed blood + As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers? + A very fatal place it seems to me. + + Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall? + +MARTIUS O brother, with the dismall'st object hurt + That ever eye with sight made heart lament! + +AARON [Aside] Now will I fetch the king to find them here, + That he thereby may give a likely guess + How these were they that made away his brother. + + [Exit] + +MARTIUS Why dost not comfort me, and help me out + From this unhallowed and blood-stained hole? + +QUINTUS I am surprised with an uncouth fear; + A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints: + My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. + +MARTIUS To prove thou hast a true-divining heart, + Aaron and thou look down into this den, + And see a fearful sight of blood and death. + +QUINTUS Aaron is gone; and my compassionate heart + Will not permit mine eyes once to behold + The thing whereat it trembles by surmise; + O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now + Was I a child to fear I know not what. + +MARTIUS Lord Bassianus lies embrewed here, + All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, + In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pit. + +QUINTUS If it be dark, how dost thou know 'tis he? + +MARTIUS Upon his bloody finger he doth wear + A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, + Which, like a taper in some monument, + Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, + And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: + So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus + When he by night lay bathed in maiden blood. + O brother, help me with thy fainting hand-- + If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath-- + Out of this fell devouring receptacle, + As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. + +QUINTUS Reach me thy hand, that I may help thee out; + Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, + I may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb + Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus' grave. + I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. + +MARTIUS Nor I no strength to climb without thy help. + +QUINTUS Thy hand once more; I will not loose again, + Till thou art here aloft, or I below: + Thou canst not come to me: I come to thee. + + [Falls in] + + [Enter SATURNINUS with AARON] + +SATURNINUS Along with me: I'll see what hole is here, + And what he is that now is leap'd into it. + Say who art thou that lately didst descend + Into this gaping hollow of the earth? + +MARTIUS The unhappy son of old Andronicus: + Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, + To find thy brother Bassianus dead. + +SATURNINUS My brother dead! I know thou dost but jest: + He and his lady both are at the lodge + Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; + 'Tis not an hour since I left him there. + +MARTIUS We know not where you left him all alive; + But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. + + [Re-enter TAMORA, with Attendants; TITUS + ANDRONICUS, and Lucius] + +TAMORA Where is my lord the king? + +SATURNINUS Here, Tamora, though grieved with killing grief. + +TAMORA Where is thy brother Bassianus? + +SATURNINUS Now to the bottom dost thou search my wound: + Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. + +TAMORA Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, + The complot of this timeless tragedy; + And wonder greatly that man's face can fold + In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. + + [She giveth SATURNINUS a letter] + +SATURNINUS [Reads] 'An if we miss to meet him handsomely-- + Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we mean-- + Do thou so much as dig the grave for him: + Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward + Among the nettles at the elder-tree + Which overshades the mouth of that same pit + Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. + Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends.' + O Tamora! was ever heard the like? + This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. + Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out + That should have murdered Bassianus here. + +AARON My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. + +SATURNINUS [To TITUS] Two of thy whelps, fell curs of + bloody kind, + Have here bereft my brother of his life. + Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison: + There let them bide until we have devised + Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. + +TAMORA What, are they in this pit? O wondrous thing! + How easily murder is discovered! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS High emperor, upon my feeble knee + I beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed, + That this fell fault of my accursed sons, + Accursed if the fault be proved in them,-- + +SATURNINUS If it be proved! you see it is apparent. + Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? + +TAMORA Andronicus himself did take it up. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail; + For, by my father's reverend tomb, I vow + They shall be ready at your highness' will + To answer their suspicion with their lives. + +SATURNINUS Thou shalt not bail them: see thou follow me. + Some bring the murder'd body, some the murderers: + Let them not speak a word; the guilt is plain; + For, by my soul, were there worse end than death, + That end upon them should be executed. + +TAMORA Andronicus, I will entreat the king; + Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk with them. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT II + + + +SCENE IV Another part of the forest. + + + [Enter DEMETRIUS and CHIRON with LAVINIA, ravished; + her hands cut off, and her tongue cut out] + +DEMETRIUS So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can speak, + Who 'twas that cut thy tongue and ravish'd thee. + +CHIRON Write down thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, + An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. + +DEMETRIUS See, how with signs and tokens she can scrowl. + +CHIRON Go home, call for sweet water, wash thy hands. + +DEMETRIUS She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash; + And so let's leave her to her silent walks. + +CHIRON An 'twere my case, I should go hang myself. + +DEMETRIUS If thou hadst hands to help thee knit the cord. + + [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON] + + [Enter MARCUS] + +MARCUS Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast! + Cousin, a word; where is your husband? + If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me! + If I do wake, some planet strike me down, + That I may slumber in eternal sleep! + Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands + Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare + Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments, + Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in, + And might not gain so great a happiness + As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me? + Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, + Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, + Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, + Coming and going with thy honey breath. + But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee, + And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue. + Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame! + And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, + As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, + Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face + Blushing to be encountered with a cloud. + Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so? + O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast, + That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! + Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, + Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. + Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, + And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind: + But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; + A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, + And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, + That could have better sew'd than Philomel. + O, had the monster seen those lily hands + Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute, + And make the silken strings delight to kiss them, + He would not then have touch'd them for his life! + Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony + Which that sweet tongue hath made, + He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep + As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet. + Come, let us go, and make thy father blind; + For such a sight will blind a father's eye: + One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads; + What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes? + Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee + O, could our mourning ease thy misery! + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE I Rome. A street. + + + [Enter Judges, Senators and Tribunes, with MARTIUS + and QUINTUS, bound, passing on to the place of + execution; TITUS going before, pleading] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, stay! + For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent + In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; + For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed; + For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; + And for these bitter tears, which now you see + Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; + Be pitiful to my condemned sons, + Whose souls are not corrupted as 'tis thought. + For two and twenty sons I never wept, + Because they died in honour's lofty bed. + + [Lieth down; the Judges, &c., pass by him, and Exeunt] + + For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write + My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears: + Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetite; + My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and blush. + O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, + That shall distil from these two ancient urns, + Than youthful April shall with all his showers: + In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; + In winter with warm tears I'll melt the snow + And keep eternal spring-time on thy face, + So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. + + [Enter LUCIUS, with his sword drawn] + + O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men! + Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; + And let me say, that never wept before, + My tears are now prevailing orators. + +LUCIUS O noble father, you lament in vain: + The tribunes hear you not; no man is by; + And you recount your sorrows to a stone. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me plead. + Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you,-- + +LUCIUS My gracious lord, no tribune hears you speak. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, tis no matter, man; if they did hear, + They would not mark me, or if they did mark, + They would not pity me, yet plead I must; + And bootless unto them [ ] + Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; + Who, though they cannot answer my distress, + Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, + For that they will not intercept my tale: + When I do weep, they humbly at my feet + Receive my tears and seem to weep with me; + And, were they but attired in grave weeds, + Rome could afford no tribune like to these. + A stone is soft as wax,--tribunes more hard than stones; + A stone is silent, and offendeth not, + And tribunes with their tongues doom men to death. + + [Rises] + + But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawn? + +LUCIUS To rescue my two brothers from their death: + For which attempt the judges have pronounced + My everlasting doom of banishment. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O happy man! they have befriended thee. + Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive + That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? + Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey + But me and mine: how happy art thou, then, + From these devourers to be banished! + But who comes with our brother Marcus here? + + [Enter MARCUS and LAVINIA] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; + Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: + I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Will it consume me? let me see it, then. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was thy daughter. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, Marcus, so she is. + +LUCIUS Ay me, this object kills me! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upon her. + Speak, Lavinia, what accursed hand + Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight? + What fool hath added water to the sea, + Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy? + My grief was at the height before thou camest, + And now like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. + Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too; + For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain; + And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life; + In bootless prayer have they been held up, + And they have served me to effectless use: + Now all the service I require of them + Is that the one will help to cut the other. + 'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands; + For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. + +LUCIUS Speak, gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, that delightful engine of her thoughts + That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, + Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, + Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung + Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! + +LUCIUS O, say thou for her, who hath done this deed? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, thus I found her, straying in the park, + Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer + That hath received some unrecuring wound. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS It was my deer; and he that wounded her + Hath hurt me more than had he killed me dead: + For now I stand as one upon a rock + Environed with a wilderness of sea, + Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, + Expecting ever when some envious surge + Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. + This way to death my wretched sons are gone; + Here stands my other son, a banished man, + And here my brother, weeping at my woes. + But that which gives my soul the greatest spurn, + Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my soul. + Had I but seen thy picture in this plight, + It would have madded me: what shall I do + Now I behold thy lively body so? + Thou hast no hands, to wipe away thy tears: + Nor tongue, to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: + Thy husband he is dead: and for his death + Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. + Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! + When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears + Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew + Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Perchance she weeps because they kill'd her husband; + Perchance because she knows them innocent. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS If they did kill thy husband, then be joyful + Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. + No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; + Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. + Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips. + Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: + Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, + And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain, + Looking all downwards to behold our cheeks + How they are stain'd, as meadows, yet not dry, + With miry slime left on them by a flood? + And in the fountain shall we gaze so long + Till the fresh taste be taken from that clearness, + And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? + Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine? + Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb shows + Pass the remainder of our hateful days? + What shall we do? let us, that have our tongues, + Plot some deuce of further misery, + To make us wonder'd at in time to come. + +LUCIUS Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at your grief, + See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Patience, dear niece. Good Titus, dry thine eyes. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I wot + Thy napkin cannot drink a tear of mine, + For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thine own. + +LUCIUS Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand her signs: + Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say + That to her brother which I said to thee: + His napkin, with his true tears all bewet, + Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks. + O, what a sympathy of woe is this, + As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! + + [Enter AARON] + +AARON Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor + Sends thee this word,--that, if thou love thy sons, + Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, + Or any one of you, chop off your hand, + And send it to the king: he for the same + Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; + And that shall be the ransom for their fault. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! + Did ever raven sing so like a lark, + That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? + With all my heart, I'll send the emperor My hand: + Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? + +LUCIUS Stay, father! for that noble hand of thine, + That hath thrown down so many enemies, + Shall not be sent: my hand will serve the turn: + My youth can better spare my blood than you; + And therefore mine shall save my brothers' lives. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, + And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, + Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? + O, none of both but are of high desert: + My hand hath been but idle; let it serve + To ransom my two nephews from their death; + Then have I kept it to a worthy end. + +AARON Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go along, + For fear they die before their pardon come. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS My hand shall go. + +LUCIUS By heaven, it shall not go! + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd herbs as these + Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. + +LUCIUS Sweet father, if I shall be thought thy son, + Let me redeem my brothers both from death. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS And, for our father's sake and mother's care, + Now let me show a brother's love to thee. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Agree between you; I will spare my hand. + +LUCIUS Then I'll go fetch an axe. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS But I will use the axe. + + [Exeunt LUCIUS and MARCUS] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them both: + Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. + +AARON [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will be honest, + And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: + But I'll deceive you in another sort, + And that you'll say, ere half an hour pass. + + [Cuts off TITUS's hand] + + [Re-enter LUCIUS and MARCUS] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Now stay your strife: what shall be is dispatch'd. + Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: + Tell him it was a hand that warded him + From thousand dangers; bid him bury it + More hath it merited; that let it have. + As for my sons, say I account of them + As jewels purchased at an easy price; + And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. + +AARON I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand + Look by and by to have thy sons with thee. + + [Aside] + + Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany + Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it! + Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace. + Aaron will have his soul black like his face. + + [Exit] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, + And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: + If any power pities wretched tears, + To that I call! + + [To LAVINIA] + What, wilt thou kneel with me? + Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear our prayers; + Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, + And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds + When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O brother, speak with possibilities, + And do not break into these deep extremes. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom? + Then be my passions bottomless with them. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS But yet let reason govern thy lament. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS If there were reason for these miseries, + Then into limits could I bind my woes: + When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? + If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, + Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln face? + And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? + I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! + She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: + Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; + Then must my earth with her continual tears + Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd; + For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, + But like a drunkard must I vomit them. + Then give me leave, for losers will have leave + To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. + + [Enter a Messenger, with two heads and a hand] + +Messenger Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid + For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. + Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; + And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent back; + Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd; + That woe is me to think upon thy woes + More than remembrance of my father's death. + + [Exit] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now let hot AEtna cool in Sicily, + And be my heart an ever-burning hell! + These miseries are more than may be borne. + To weep with them that weep doth ease some deal; + But sorrow flouted at is double death. + +LUCIUS Ah, that this sight should make so deep a wound, + And yet detested life not shrink thereat! + That ever death should let life bear his name, + Where life hath no more interest but to breathe! + + [LAVINIA kisses TITUS] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless + As frozen water to a starved snake. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS When will this fearful slumber have an end? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now, farewell, flattery: die, Andronicus; + Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads, + Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here: + Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight + Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, + Even like a stony image, cold and numb. + Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: + Rend off thy silver hair, thy other hand + Gnawing with thy teeth; and be this dismal sight + The closing up of our most wretched eyes; + Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha, ha! + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this hour. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, I have not another tear to shed: + Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, + And would usurp upon my watery eyes + And make them blind with tributary tears: + Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? + For these two heads do seem to speak to me, + And threat me I shall never come to bliss + Till all these mischiefs be return'd again + Even in their throats that have committed them. + Come, let me see what task I have to do. + You heavy people, circle me about, + That I may turn me to each one of you, + And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. + The vow is made. Come, brother, take a head; + And in this hand the other I will bear. + Lavinia, thou shalt be employ'd: these arms! + Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy teeth. + As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; + Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: + Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: + And, if you love me, as I think you do, + Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. + + [Exeunt TITUS, MARCUS, and LAVINIA] + +LUCIUS Farewell Andronicus, my noble father, + The wofull'st man that ever lived in Rome: + Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, + He leaves his pledges dearer than his life: + Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; + O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! + But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives + But in oblivion and hateful griefs. + If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; + And make proud Saturnine and his empress + Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. + Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power, + To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. + + [Exit] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT III + + + +SCENE II A room in Titus's house. A banquet set out. + + + [Enter TITUS, MARCUS, LAVINIA and Young LUCIUS, a boy] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more + Than will preserve just so much strength in us + As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. + Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: + Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our hands, + And cannot passionate our tenfold grief + With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine + Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; + Who, when my heart, all mad with misery, + Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, + Then thus I thump it down. + + [To LAVINIA] + + Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! + When thy poor heart beats with outrageous beating, + Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. + Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; + Or get some little knife between thy teeth, + And just against thy heart make thou a hole; + That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall + May run into that sink, and soaking in + Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Fie, brother, fie! teach her not thus to lay + Such violent hands upon her tender life. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS How now! has sorrow made thee dote already? + Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. + What violent hands can she lay on her life? + Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of hands; + To bid AEneas tell the tale twice o'er, + How Troy was burnt and he made miserable? + O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands, + Lest we remember still that we have none. + Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk, + As if we should forget we had no hands, + If Marcus did not name the word of hands! + Come, let's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: + Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she says; + I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; + She says she drinks no other drink but tears, + Brew'd with her sorrow, mesh'd upon her cheeks: + Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; + In thy dumb action will I be as perfect + As begging hermits in their holy prayers: + Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to heaven, + Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign, + But I of these will wrest an alphabet + And by still practise learn to know thy meaning. + +Young LUCIUS Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments: + Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved, + Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Peace, tender sapling; thou art made of tears, + And tears will quickly melt thy life away. + + [MARCUS strikes the dish with a knife] + + What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy knife? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS At that that I have kill'd, my lord; a fly. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Out on thee, murderer! thou kill'st my heart; + Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: + A deed of death done on the innocent + Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone: + I see thou art not for my company. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS But how, if that fly had a father and mother? + How would he hang his slender gilded wings, + And buzz lamenting doings in the air! + Poor harmless fly, + That, with his pretty buzzing melody, + Came here to make us merry! and thou hast + kill'd him. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill-favor'd fly, + Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd him. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O, O, O, + Then pardon me for reprehending thee, + For thou hast done a charitable deed. + Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; + Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor + Come hither purposely to poison me.-- + There's for thyself, and that's for Tamora. + Ah, sirrah! + Yet, I think, we are not brought so low, + But that between us we can kill a fly + That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought on him, + He takes false shadows for true substances. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, take away. Lavinia, go with me: + I'll to thy closet; and go read with thee + Sad stories chanced in the times of old. + Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, + And thou shalt read when mine begin to dazzle. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE I Rome. Titus's garden. + + + [Enter young LUCIUS, and LAVINIA running after him, + and the boy flies from her, with books under his + arm. Then enter TITUS and MARCUS] + +Young LUCIUS Help, grandsire, help! my aunt Lavinia + Follows me every where, I know not why: + Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. + Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear thine aunt. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee harm. + +Young LUCIUS Ay, when my father was in Rome she did. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS What means my niece Lavinia by these signs? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Fear her not, Lucius: somewhat doth she mean: + See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: + Somewhither would she have thee go with her. + Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care + Read to her sons than she hath read to thee + Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee thus? + +Young LUCIUS My lord, I know not, I, nor can I guess, + Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: + For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, + Extremity of griefs would make men mad; + And I have read that Hecuba of Troy + Ran mad through sorrow: that made me to fear; + Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt + Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, + And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: + Which made me down to throw my books, and fly-- + Causeless, perhaps. But pardon me, sweet aunt: + And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, + I will most willingly attend your ladyship. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, I will. + + [LAVINIA turns over with her stumps the books which + LUCIUS has let fall] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS How now, Lavinia! Marcus, what means this? + Some book there is that she desires to see. + Which is it, girl, of these? Open them, boy. + But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd + Come, and take choice of all my library, + And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens + Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. + Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS I think she means that there was more than one + Confederate in the fact: ay, more there was; + Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? + +Young LUCIUS Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamorphoses; + My mother gave it me. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS For love of her that's gone, + Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves! + + [Helping her] + + What would she find? Lavinia, shall I read? + This is the tragic tale of Philomel, + And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape: + And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS See, brother, see; note how she quotes the leaves. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet girl, + Ravish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, + Forced in the ruthless, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see! + Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt-- + O, had we never, never hunted there!-- + Pattern'd by that the poet here describes, + By nature made for murders and for rapes. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, why should nature build so foul a den, + Unless the gods delight in tragedies? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Give signs, sweet girl, for here are none + but friends, + What Roman lord it was durst do the deed: + Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, + That left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Sit down, sweet niece: brother, sit down by me. + Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, + Inspire me, that I may this treason find! + My lord, look here: look here, Lavinia: + This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst + This after me, when I have writ my name + Without the help of any hand at all. + + [He writes his name with his staff, and guides it + with feet and mouth] + + Cursed be that heart that forced us to this shift! + Write thou good niece; and here display, at last, + What God will have discover'd for revenge; + Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows plain, + That we may know the traitors and the truth! + + [She takes the staff in her mouth, and guides it + with her stumps, and writes] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS O, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? + 'Stuprum. Chiron. Demetrius.' + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS What, what! the lustful sons of Tamora + Performers of this heinous, bloody deed? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Magni Dominator poli, + Tam lentus audis scelera? tam lentus vides? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O, calm thee, gentle lord; although I know + There is enough written upon this earth + To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts + And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. + My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; + And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; + And swear with me, as, with the woful fere + And father of that chaste dishonour'd dame, + Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, + That we will prosecute by good advice + Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, + And see their blood, or die with this reproach. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how. + But if you hunt these bear-whelps, then beware: + The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once, + She's with the lion deeply still in league, + And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, + And when he sleeps will she do what she list. + You are a young huntsman, Marcus; let it alone; + And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, + And with a gad of steel will write these words, + And lay it by: the angry northern wind + Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, abroad, + And where's your lesson, then? Boy, what say you? + +Young LUCIUS I say, my lord, that if I were a man, + Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe + For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Rome. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Ay, that's my boy! thy father hath full oft + For his ungrateful country done the like. + +Young LUCIUS And, uncle, so will I, an if I live. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, go with me into mine armoury; + Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, + Shalt carry from me to the empress' sons + Presents that I intend to send them both: + Come, come; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? + +Young LUCIUS Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, grandsire. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS No, boy, not so; I'll teach thee another course. + Lavinia, come. Marcus, look to my house: + Lucius and I'll go brave it at the court: + Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we'll be waited on. + + [Exeunt TITUS, LAVINIA, and Young LUCIUS] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O heavens, can you hear a good man groan, + And not relent, or not compassion him? + Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy, + That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart + Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield; + But yet so just that he will not revenge. + Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! + + [Exit] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE II The same. A room in the palace. + + + [Enter, from one side, AARON, DEMETRIUS, and + CHIRON; from the other side, Young LUCIUS, and an + Attendant, with a bundle of weapons, and verses + writ upon them] + +CHIRON Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; + He hath some message to deliver us. + +AARON Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather. + +Young LUCIUS My lords, with all the humbleness I may, + I greet your honours from Andronicus. + + [Aside] + + And pray the Roman gods confound you both! + +DEMETRIUS Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news? + +Young LUCIUS [Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news, + For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you, + My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me + The goodliest weapons of his armoury + To gratify your honourable youth, + The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; + And so I do, and with his gifts present + Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, + You may be armed and appointed well: + And so I leave you both: + + [Aside] + like bloody villains. + + [Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant] + +DEMETRIUS What's here? A scroll; and written round about? + Let's see; + + [Reads] + + 'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus, + Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.' + +CHIRON O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well: + I read it in the grammar long ago. + +AARON Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it. + + [Aside] + + Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! + Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt; + And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines, + That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. + But were our witty empress well afoot, + She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: + But let her rest in her unrest awhile. + + And now, young lords, was't not a happy star + Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, + Captives, to be advanced to this height? + It did me good, before the palace gate + To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. + +DEMETRIUS But me more good, to see so great a lord + Basely insinuate and send us gifts. + +AARON Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius? + Did you not use his daughter very friendly? + +DEMETRIUS I would we had a thousand Roman dames + At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. + +CHIRON A charitable wish and full of love. + +AARON Here lacks but your mother for to say amen. + +CHIRON And that would she for twenty thousand more. + +DEMETRIUS Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods + For our beloved mother in her pains. + +AARON [Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over. + + [Trumpets sound within] + +DEMETRIUS Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus? + +CHIRON Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. + +DEMETRIUS Soft! who comes here? + + [Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms] + +Nurse Good morrow, lords: + O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor? + +AARON Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all, + Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? + +Nurse O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! + Now help, or woe betide thee evermore! + +AARON Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep! + What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? + +Nurse O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye, + Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace! + She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd. + +AARON To whom? + +Nurse I mean, she is brought a-bed. + +AARON Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her? + +Nurse A devil. + +AARON Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue. + +Nurse A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue: + Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad + Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: + The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, + And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point. + +AARON 'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue? + Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure. + +DEMETRIUS Villain, what hast thou done? + +AARON That which thou canst not undo. + +CHIRON Thou hast undone our mother. + +AARON Villain, I have done thy mother. + +DEMETRIUS And therein, hellish dog, thou hast undone. + Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choice! + Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend! + +CHIRON It shall not live. + +AARON It shall not die. + +Nurse Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. + +AARON What, must it, nurse? then let no man but I + Do execution on my flesh and blood. + +DEMETRIUS I'll broach the tadpole on my rapier's point: + Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dispatch it. + +AARON Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels up. + + [Takes the Child from the Nurse, and draws] + + Stay, murderous villains! will you kill your brother? + Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, + That shone so brightly when this boy was got, + He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point + That touches this my first-born son and heir! + I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, + With all his threatening band of Typhon's brood, + Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war, + Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. + What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-hearted boys! + Ye white-limed walls! ye alehouse painted signs! + Coal-black is better than another hue, + In that it scorns to bear another hue; + For all the water in the ocean + Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, + Although she lave them hourly in the flood. + Tell the empress from me, I am of age + To keep mine own, excuse it how she can. + +DEMETRIUS Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress thus? + +AARON My mistress is my mistress; this myself, + The vigour and the picture of my youth: + This before all the world do I prefer; + This maugre all the world will I keep safe, + Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. + +DEMETRIUS By this our mother is forever shamed. + +CHIRON Rome will despise her for this foul escape. + +Nurse The emperor, in his rage, will doom her death. + +CHIRON I blush to think upon this ignomy. + +AARON Why, there's the privilege your beauty bears: + Fie, treacherous hue, that will betray with blushing + The close enacts and counsels of the heart! + Here's a young lad framed of another leer: + Look, how the black slave smiles upon the father, + As who should say 'Old lad, I am thine own.' + He is your brother, lords, sensibly fed + Of that self-blood that first gave life to you, + And from that womb where you imprison'd were + He is enfranchised and come to light: + Nay, he is your brother by the surer side, + Although my seal be stamped in his face. + +Nurse Aaron, what shall I say unto the empress? + +DEMETRIUS Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be done, + And we will all subscribe to thy advice: + Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. + +AARON Then sit we down, and let us all consult. + My son and I will have the wind of you: + Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your safety. + + [They sit] + +DEMETRIUS How many women saw this child of his? + +AARON Why, so, brave lords! when we join in league, + I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, + The chafed boar, the mountain lioness, + The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. + But say, again; how many saw the child? + +Nurse Cornelia the midwife and myself; + And no one else but the deliver'd empress. + +AARON The empress, the midwife, and yourself: + Two may keep counsel when the third's away: + Go to the empress, tell her this I said. + + [He kills the nurse] + + Weke, weke! so cries a pig prepared to the spit. + +DEMETRIUS What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore didst thou this? + +AARON O Lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy: + Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, + A long-tongued babbling gossip? no, lords, no: + And now be it known to you my full intent. + Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; + His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; + His child is like to her, fair as you are: + Go pack with him, and give the mother gold, + And tell them both the circumstance of all; + And how by this their child shall be advanced, + And be received for the emperor's heir, + And substituted in the place of mine, + To calm this tempest whirling in the court; + And let the emperor dandle him for his own. + Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic, + + [Pointing to the nurse] + + And you must needs bestow her funeral; + The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: + This done, see that you take no longer days, + But send the midwife presently to me. + The midwife and the nurse well made away, + Then let the ladies tattle what they please. + +CHIRON Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air + With secrets. + +DEMETRIUS For this care of Tamora, + Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. + + [Exeunt DEMETRIUS and CHIRON bearing off the + Nurse's body] + +AARON Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies; + There to dispose this treasure in mine arms, + And secretly to greet the empress' friends. + Come on, you thick lipp'd slave, I'll bear you hence; + For it is you that puts us to our shifts: + I'll make you feed on berries and on roots, + And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, + And cabin in a cave, and bring you up + To be a warrior, and command a camp. + + [Exit] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE III The same. A public place. + + + [Enter TITUS, bearing arrows with letters at the + ends of them; with him, MARCUS, Young LUCIUS, + PUBLIUS, SEMPRONIUS, CAIUS, and other Gentlemen, + with bows] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus; come, kinsmen; this is the way. + Sir boy, now let me see your archery; + Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there straight. + Terras Astraea reliquit: + Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's fled. + Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, shall + Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets; + Happily you may catch her in the sea; + Yet there's as little justice as at land: + No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; + 'Tis you must dig with mattock and with spade, + And pierce the inmost centre of the earth: + Then, when you come to Pluto's region, + I pray you, deliver him this petition; + Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, + And that it comes from old Andronicus, + Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. + Ah, Rome! Well, well; I made thee miserable + What time I threw the people's suffrages + On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. + Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all, + And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd: + This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her hence; + And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS O Publius, is not this a heavy case, + To see thy noble uncle thus distract? + +PUBLIUS Therefore, my lord, it highly us concerns + By day and night to attend him carefully, + And feed his humour kindly as we may, + Till time beget some careful remedy. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. + Join with the Goths; and with revengeful war + Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, + And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Publius, how now! how now, my masters! + What, have you met with her? + +PUBLIUS No, my good lord; but Pluto sends you word, + If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: + Marry, for Justice, she is so employ'd, + He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere else, + So that perforce you must needs stay a time. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. + I'll dive into the burning lake below, + And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. + Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we + No big-boned men framed of the Cyclops' size; + But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back, + Yet wrung with wrongs more than our backs can bear: + And, sith there's no justice in earth nor hell, + We will solicit heaven and move the gods + To send down Justice for to wreak our wrongs. + Come, to this gear. You are a good archer, Marcus; + + [He gives them the arrows] + + 'Ad Jovem,' that's for you: here, 'Ad Apollinem:' + 'Ad Martem,' that's for myself: + Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury: + To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine; + You were as good to shoot against the wind. + To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid. + Of my word, I have written to effect; + There's not a god left unsolicited. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court: + We will afflict the emperor in his pride. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Now, masters, draw. + + [They shoot] + O, well said, Lucius! + Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon; + Your letter is with Jupiter by this. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Ha, ha! + Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? + See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus' horns. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot, + The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock + That down fell both the Ram's horns in the court; + And who should find them but the empress' villain? + She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not choose + But give them to his master for a present. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there it goes: God give his lordship joy! + + [Enter a Clown, with a basket, and two pigeons in + it] + + News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is come. + Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? + Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? + +Clown O, the gibbet-maker! he says that he hath taken + them down again, for the man must not be hanged till + the next week. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS But what says Jupiter, I ask thee? + +Clown Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never drank with him + in all my life. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? + +Clown Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, didst thou not come from heaven? + +Clown From heaven! alas, sir, I never came there God + forbid I should be so bold to press to heaven in my + young days. Why, I am going with my pigeons to the + tribunal plebs, to take up a matter of brawl + betwixt my uncle and one of the emperial's men. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to serve for + your oration; and let him deliver the pigeons to + the emperor from you. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Tell me, can you deliver an oration to the emperor + with a grace? + +Clown Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace in all my life. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, + But give your pigeons to the emperor: + By me thou shalt have justice at his hands. + Hold, hold; meanwhile here's money for thy charges. + Give me pen and ink. Sirrah, can you with a grace + deliver a supplication? + +Clown Ay, sir. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Then here is a supplication for you. And when you + come to him, at the first approach you must kneel, + then kiss his foot, then deliver up your pigeons, and + then look for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see + you do it bravely. + +Clown I warrant you, sir, let me alone. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let me see it. + Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; + For thou hast made it like an humble suppliant. + And when thou hast given it the emperor, + Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. + +Clown God be with you, sir; I will. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, Marcus, let us go. Publius, follow me. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT IV + + + +SCENE IV The same. Before the palace. + + + [Enter SATURNINUS, TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, CHIRON, + Lords, and others; SATURNINUS with the arrows in + his hand that TITUS shot] + +SATURNINUS Why, lords, what wrongs are these! was ever seen + An emperor in Rome thus overborne, + Troubled, confronted thus; and, for the extent + Of egal justice, used in such contempt? + My lords, you know, as know the mightful gods, + However these disturbers of our peace + Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath pass'd, + But even with law, against the willful sons + Of old Andronicus. And what an if + His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, + Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, + His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? + And now he writes to heaven for his redress: + See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; + This to Apollo; this to the god of war; + Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! + What's this but libelling against the senate, + And blazoning our injustice every where? + A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? + As who would say, in Rome no justice were. + But if I live, his feigned ecstasies + Shall be no shelter to these outrages: + But he and his shall know that justice lives + In Saturninus' health, whom, if she sleep, + He'll so awake as she in fury shall + Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. + +TAMORA My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, + Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, + Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, + The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons, + Whose loss hath pierced him deep and scarr'd his heart; + And rather comfort his distressed plight + Than prosecute the meanest or the best + For these contempts. + + [Aside] + + Why, thus it shall become + High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: + But, Titus, I have touched thee to the quick, + Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise, + Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. + + [Enter Clown] + + How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak with us? + +Clown Yea, forsooth, an your mistership be emperial. + +TAMORA Empress I am, but yonder sits the emperor. + +Clown 'Tis he. God and Saint Stephen give you good den: + I have brought you a letter and a couple of pigeons here. + + [SATURNINUS reads the letter] + +SATURNINUS Go, take him away, and hang him presently. + +Clown How much money must I have? + +TAMORA Come, sirrah, you must be hanged. + +Clown Hanged! by'r lady, then I have brought up a neck to + a fair end. + + [Exit, guarded] + +SATURNINUS Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! + Shall I endure this monstrous villany? + I know from whence this same device proceeds: + May this be borne?--as if his traitorous sons, + That died by law for murder of our brother, + Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully! + Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; + Nor age nor honour shall shape privilege: + For this proud mock I'll be thy slaughterman; + Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me great, + In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. + + [Enter AEMILIUS] + + What news with thee, AEmilius? + +AEMILIUS Arm, arm, my lord;--Rome never had more cause. + The Goths have gather'd head; and with a power + high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, + They hither march amain, under conduct + Of Lucius, son to old Andronicus; + Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do + As much as ever Coriolanus did. + +SATURNINUS Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? + These tidings nip me, and I hang the head + As flowers with frost or grass beat down with storms: + Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach: + 'Tis he the common people love so much; + Myself hath often over-heard them say, + When I have walked like a private man, + That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully, + And they have wish'd that Lucius were their emperor. + +TAMORA Why should you fear? is not your city strong? + +SATURNINUS Ay, but the citizens favor Lucius, + And will revolt from me to succor him. + +TAMORA King, be thy thoughts imperious, like thy name. + Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? + The eagle suffers little birds to sing, + And is not careful what they mean thereby, + Knowing that with the shadow of his wings + He can at pleasure stint their melody: + Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. + Then cheer thy spirit : for know, thou emperor, + I will enchant the old Andronicus + With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous, + Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep, + When as the one is wounded with the bait, + The other rotted with delicious feed. + +SATURNINUS But he will not entreat his son for us. + +TAMORA If Tamora entreat him, then he will: + For I can smooth and fill his aged ear + With golden promises; that, were his heart + Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf, + Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongue. + + [To AEmilius] + + Go thou before, be our ambassador: + Say that the emperor requests a parley + Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting + Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus. + +SATURNINUS AEmilius, do this message honourably: + And if he stand on hostage for his safety, + Bid him demand what pledge will please him best. + +AEMILIUS Your bidding shall I do effectually. + + [Exit] + +TAMORA Now will I to that old Andronicus; + And temper him with all the art I have, + To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. + And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, + And bury all thy fear in my devices. + +SATURNINUS Then go successantly, and plead to him. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE I Plains near Rome. + + + [Enter LUCIUS with an army of Goths, with drum and colours] + +LUCIUS Approved warriors, and my faithful friends, + I have received letters from great Rome, + Which signify what hate they bear their emperor + And how desirous of our sight they are. + Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles witness, + Imperious and impatient of your wrongs, + And wherein Rome hath done you any scath, + Let him make treble satisfaction. + +First Goth Brave slip, sprung from the great Andronicus, + Whose name was once our terror, now our comfort; + Whose high exploits and honourable deeds + Ingrateful Rome requites with foul contempt, + Be bold in us: we'll follow where thou lead'st, + Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day + Led by their master to the flowered fields, + And be avenged on cursed Tamora. + +All the Goths And as he saith, so say we all with him. + +LUCIUS I humbly thank him, and I thank you all. + But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? + + [Enter a Goth, leading AARON with his Child in his arms] + +Second Goth Renowned Lucius, from our troops I stray'd + To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; + And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye + Upon the wasted building, suddenly + I heard a child cry underneath a wall. + I made unto the noise; when soon I heard + The crying babe controll'd with this discourse: + 'Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy dam! + Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, + Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, + Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor: + But where the bull and cow are both milk-white, + They never do beget a coal-black calf. + Peace, villain, peace!'--even thus he rates + the babe,-- + 'For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth; + Who, when he knows thou art the empress' babe, + Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake.' + With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon him, + Surprised him suddenly, and brought him hither, + To use as you think needful of the man. + +LUCIUS O worthy Goth, this is the incarnate devil + That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; + This is the pearl that pleased your empress' eye, + And here's the base fruit of his burning lust. + Say, wall-eyed slave, whither wouldst thou convey + This growing image of thy fiend-like face? + Why dost not speak? what, deaf? not a word? + A halter, soldiers! hang him on this tree. + And by his side his fruit of bastardy. + +AARON Touch not the boy; he is of royal blood. + +LUCIUS Too like the sire for ever being good. + First hang the child, that he may see it sprawl; + A sight to vex the father's soul withal. + Get me a ladder. + + [A ladder brought, which AARON is made to ascend] + +AARON Lucius, save the child, + And bear it from me to the empress. + If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, + That highly may advantage thee to hear: + If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, + I'll speak no more but 'Vengeance rot you all!' + +LUCIUS Say on: an if it please me which thou speak'st + Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. + +AARON An if it please thee! why, assure thee, Lucius, + 'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; + For I must talk of murders, rapes and massacres, + Acts of black night, abominable deeds, + Complots of mischief, treason, villanies + Ruthful to hear, yet piteously perform'd: + And this shall all be buried by my death, + Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. + +LUCIUS Tell on thy mind; I say thy child shall live. + +AARON Swear that he shall, and then I will begin. + +LUCIUS Who should I swear by? thou believest no god: + That granted, how canst thou believe an oath? + +AARON What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not; + Yet, for I know thou art religious + And hast a thing within thee called conscience, + With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies, + Which I have seen thee careful to observe, + Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know + An idiot holds his bauble for a god + And keeps the oath which by that god he swears, + To that I'll urge him: therefore thou shalt vow + By that same god, what god soe'er it be, + That thou adorest and hast in reverence, + To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; + Or else I will discover nought to thee. + +LUCIUS Even by my god I swear to thee I will. + +AARON First know thou, I begot him on the empress. + +LUCIUS O most insatiate and luxurious woman! + +AARON Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed of charity + To that which thou shalt hear of me anon. + 'Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus; + They cut thy sister's tongue and ravish'd her + And cut her hands and trimm'd her as thou saw'st. + +LUCIUS O detestable villain! call'st thou that trimming? + +AARON Why, she was wash'd and cut and trimm'd, and 'twas + Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. + +LUCIUS O barbarous, beastly villains, like thyself! + +AARON Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct them: + That codding spirit had they from their mother, + As sure a card as ever won the set; + That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me, + As true a dog as ever fought at head. + Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. + I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole + Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay: + I wrote the letter that thy father found + And hid the gold within the letter mention'd, + Confederate with the queen and her two sons: + And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, + Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? + I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand, + And, when I had it, drew myself apart + And almost broke my heart with extreme laughter: + I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall + When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; + Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily, + That both mine eyes were rainy like to his : + And when I told the empress of this sport, + She swooned almost at my pleasing tale, + And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. + +First Goth What, canst thou say all this, and never blush? + +AARON Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. + +LUCIUS Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds? + +AARON Ay, that I had not done a thousand more. + Even now I curse the day--and yet, I think, + Few come within the compass of my curse,-- + Wherein I did not some notorious ill, + As kill a man, or else devise his death, + Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it, + Accuse some innocent and forswear myself, + Set deadly enmity between two friends, + Make poor men's cattle break their necks; + Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, + And bid the owners quench them with their tears. + Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves, + And set them upright at their dear friends' doors, + Even when their sorrows almost were forgot; + And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, + Have with my knife carved in Roman letters, + 'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.' + Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things + As willingly as one would kill a fly, + And nothing grieves me heartily indeed + But that I cannot do ten thousand more. + +LUCIUS Bring down the devil; for he must not die + So sweet a death as hanging presently. + +AARON If there be devils, would I were a devil, + To live and burn in everlasting fire, + So I might have your company in hell, + But to torment you with my bitter tongue! + +LUCIUS Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him speak no more. + + [Enter a Goth] + +Third Goth My lord, there is a messenger from Rome + Desires to be admitted to your presence. + +LUCIUS Let him come near. + + [Enter AEMILIUS] + + Welcome, AEmilius what's the news from Rome? + +AEMILIUS Lord Lucius, and you princes of the Goths, + The Roman emperor greets you all by me; + And, for he understands you are in arms, + He craves a parley at your father's house, + Willing you to demand your hostages, + And they shall be immediately deliver'd. + +First Goth What says our general? + +LUCIUS AEmilius, let the emperor give his pledges + Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, + And we will come. March away. + + [Exeunt] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE II Rome. Before TITUS's house. + + + [Enter TAMORA, DEMETRIUS, and CHIRON, disguised] + +TAMORA Thus, in this strange and sad habiliment, + I will encounter with Andronicus, + And say I am Revenge, sent from below + To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. + Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, + To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; + Tell him Revenge is come to join with him, + And work confusion on his enemies. + + [They knock] + + [Enter TITUS, above] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Who doth molest my contemplation? + Is it your trick to make me ope the door, + That so my sad decrees may fly away, + And all my study be to no effect? + You are deceived: for what I mean to do + See here in bloody lines I have set down; + And what is written shall be executed. + +TAMORA Titus, I am come to talk with thee. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS No, not a word; how can I grace my talk, + Wanting a hand to give it action? + Thou hast the odds of me; therefore no more. + +TAMORA If thou didst know me, thou wouldest talk with me. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I am not mad; I know thee well enough: + Witness this wretched stump, witness these crimson lines; + Witness these trenches made by grief and care, + Witness the tiring day and heavy night; + Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well + For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: + Is not thy coming for my other hand? + +TAMORA Know, thou sad man, I am not Tamora; + She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: + I am Revenge: sent from the infernal kingdom, + To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind, + By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. + Come down, and welcome me to this world's light; + Confer with me of murder and of death: + There's not a hollow cave or lurking-place, + No vast obscurity or misty vale, + Where bloody murder or detested rape + Can couch for fear, but I will find them out; + And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, + Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent to me, + To be a torment to mine enemies? + +TAMORA I am; therefore come down, and welcome me. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Do me some service, ere I come to thee. + Lo, by thy side where Rape and Murder stands; + Now give me some surance that thou art Revenge, + Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot-wheels; + And then I'll come and be thy waggoner, + And whirl along with thee about the globe. + Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet, + To hale thy vengeful waggon swift away, + And find out murderers in their guilty caves: + And when thy car is loaden with their heads, + I will dismount, and by the waggon-wheel + Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, + Even from Hyperion's rising in the east + Until his very downfall in the sea: + And day by day I'll do this heavy task, + So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. + +TAMORA These are my ministers, and come with me. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Are these thy ministers? what are they call'd? + +TAMORA Rapine and Murder; therefore called so, + Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Good Lord, how like the empress' sons they are! + And you, the empress! but we worldly men + Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. + O sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; + And, if one arm's embracement will content thee, + I will embrace thee in it by and by. + + [Exit above] + +TAMORA This closing with him fits his lunacy + Whate'er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits, + Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, + For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; + And, being credulous in this mad thought, + I'll make him send for Lucius his son; + And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, + I'll find some cunning practise out of hand, + To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, + Or, at the least, make them his enemies. + See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. + + [Enter TITUS below] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Long have I been forlorn, and all for thee: + Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house: + Rapine and Murder, you are welcome too. + How like the empress and her sons you are! + Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: + Could not all hell afford you such a devil? + For well I wot the empress never wags + But in her company there is a Moor; + And, would you represent our queen aright, + It were convenient you had such a devil: + But welcome, as you are. What shall we do? + +TAMORA What wouldst thou have us do, Andronicus? + +DEMETRIUS Show me a murderer, I'll deal with him. + +CHIRON Show me a villain that hath done a rape, + And I am sent to be revenged on him. + +TAMORA Show me a thousand that have done thee wrong, + And I will be revenged on them all. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Look round about the wicked streets of Rome; + And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself. + Good Murder, stab him; he's a murderer. + Go thou with him; and when it is thy hap + To find another that is like to thee, + Good Rapine, stab him; he's a ravisher. + Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court + There is a queen, attended by a Moor; + Well mayst thou know her by thy own proportion, + for up and down she doth resemble thee: + I pray thee, do on them some violent death; + They have been violent to me and mine. + +TAMORA Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall we do. + But would it please thee, good Andronicus, + To send for Lucius, thy thrice-valiant son, + Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike Goths, + And bid him come and banquet at thy house; + When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, + I will bring in the empress and her sons, + The emperor himself and all thy foes; + And at thy mercy shalt they stoop and kneel, + And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart. + What says Andronicus to this device? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titus calls. + + [Enter MARCUS] + + Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; + Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths: + Bid him repair to me, and bring with him + Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; + Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: + Tell him the emperor and the empress too + Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them. + This do thou for my love; and so let him, + As he regards his aged father's life. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS This will I do, and soon return again. + + [Exit] + +TAMORA Now will I hence about thy business, + And take my ministers along with me. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me; + Or else I'll call my brother back again, + And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. + +TAMORA [Aside to her sons] What say you, boys? will you + bide with him, + Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor + How I have govern'd our determined jest? + Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair, + And tarry with him till I turn again. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS [Aside] I know them all, though they suppose me mad, + And will o'erreach them in their own devices: + A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam! + +DEMETRIUS Madam, depart at pleasure; leave us here. + +TAMORA Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now goes + To lay a complot to betray thy foes. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, farewell. + + [Exit TAMORA] + +CHIRON Tell us, old man, how shall we be employ'd? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Tut, I have work enough for you to do. + Publius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! + + [Enter PUBLIUS and others] + +PUBLIUS What is your will? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Know you these two? + +PUBLIUS The empress' sons, I take them, Chiron and Demetrius. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too much deceived; + The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name; + And therefore bind them, gentle Publius. + Caius and Valentine, lay hands on them. + Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour, + And now I find it; therefore bind them sure, + And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. + + [Exit] + + [PUBLIUS, &c. lay hold on CHIRON and DEMETRIUS] + +CHIRON Villains, forbear! we are the empress' sons. + +PUBLIUS And therefore do we what we are commanded. + Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a word. + Is he sure bound? look that you bind them fast. + + [Re-enter TITUS, with LAVINIA; he bearing a knife, + and she a basin] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes are bound. + Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to me; + But let them hear what fearful words I utter. + O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! + Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd with mud, + This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. + You kill'd her husband, and for that vile fault + Two of her brothers were condemn'd to death, + My hand cut off and made a merry jest; + Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that more dear + Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, + Inhuman traitors, you constrain'd and forced. + What would you say, if I should let you speak? + Villains, for shame you could not beg for grace. + Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. + This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, + Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth hold + The basin that receives your guilty blood. + You know your mother means to feast with me, + And calls herself Revenge, and thinks me mad: + Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust + And with your blood and it I'll make a paste, + And of the paste a coffin I will rear + And make two pasties of your shameful heads, + And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam, + Like to the earth swallow her own increase. + This is the feast that I have bid her to, + And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; + For worse than Philomel you used my daughter, + And worse than Progne I will be revenged: + And now prepare your throats. Lavinia, come, + + [He cuts their throats] + + Receive the blood: and when that they are dead, + Let me go grind their bones to powder small + And with this hateful liquor temper it; + And in that paste let their vile heads be baked. + Come, come, be every one officious + To make this banquet; which I wish may prove + More stern and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. + So, now bring them in, for I'll play the cook, + And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. + + [Exeunt, bearing the dead bodies] + + + + + TITUS ANDRONICUS + + +ACT V + + + +SCENE III Court of TITUS's house. A banquet set out. + + + [Enter LUCIUS, MARCUS, and Goths, with AARON prisoner] + +LUCIUS Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's mind + That I repair to Rome, I am content. + +First Goth And ours with thine, befall what fortune will. + +LUCIUS Good uncle, take you in this barbarous Moor, + This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; + Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him + Till he be brought unto the empress' face, + For testimony of her foul proceedings: + And see the ambush of our friends be strong; + I fear the emperor means no good to us. + +AARON Some devil whisper curses in mine ear, + And prompt me, that my tongue may utter forth + The venomous malice of my swelling heart! + +LUCIUS Away, inhuman dog! unhallow'd slave! + Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. + + [Exeunt Goths, with AARON. Flourish within] + + The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. + + [Enter SATURNINUS and TAMORA, with AEMILIUS, + Tribunes, Senators, and others] + +SATURNINUS What, hath the firmament more suns than one? + +LUCIUS What boots it thee to call thyself a sun? + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Rome's emperor, and nephew, break the parle; + These quarrels must be quietly debated. + The feast is ready, which the careful Titus + Hath ordain'd to an honourable end, + For peace, for love, for league, and good to Rome: + Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take your places. + +SATURNINUS Marcus, we will. + + [Hautboys sound. The Company sit down at table] + + [Enter TITUS dressed like a Cook, LAVINIA veiled, + Young LUCIUS, and others. TITUS places the dishes + on the table] + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, dread queen; + Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; + And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, + 'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it. + +SATURNINUS Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Because I would be sure to have all well, + To entertain your highness and your empress. + +TAMORA We are beholding to you, good Andronicus. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS An if your highness knew my heart, you were. + My lord the emperor, resolve me this: + Was it well done of rash Virginius + To slay his daughter with his own right hand, + Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflower'd? + +SATURNINUS It was, Andronicus. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Your reason, mighty lord? + +SATURNINUS Because the girl should not survive her shame, + And by her presence still renew his sorrows. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; + A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, + For me, most wretched, to perform the like. + Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; + + [Kills LAVINIA] + + And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die! + +SATURNINUS What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Kill'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. + I am as woful as Virginius was, + And have a thousand times more cause than he + To do this outrage: and it now is done. + +SATURNINUS What, was she ravish'd? tell who did the deed. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Will't please you eat? will't please your + highness feed? + +TAMORA Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus? + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Not I; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius: + They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue; + And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. + +SATURNINUS Go fetch them hither to us presently. + +TITUS ANDRONICUS Why, there they are both, baked in that pie; + Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, + Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. + 'Tis true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp point. + + [Kills TAMORA] + +SATURNINUS Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed deed! + + [Kills TITUS] + +LUCIUS Can the son's eye behold his father bleed? + There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed! + + [Kills SATURNINUS. A great tumult. LUCIUS, MARCUS, + and others go up into the balcony] + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS You sad-faced men, people and sons of Rome, + By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl + Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, + O, let me teach you how to knit again + This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, + These broken limbs again into one body; + Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, + And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, + Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, + Do shameful execution on herself. + But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, + Grave witnesses of true experience, + Cannot induce you to attend my words, + + [To LUCIUS] + + Speak, Rome's dear friend, as erst our ancestor, + When with his solemn tongue he did discourse + To love-sick Dido's sad attending ear + The story of that baleful burning night + When subtle Greeks surprised King Priam's Troy, + Tell us what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears, + Or who hath brought the fatal engine in + That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil wound. + My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; + Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, + But floods of tears will drown my oratory, + And break my utterance, even in the time + When it should move you to attend me most, + Lending your kind commiseration. + Here is a captain, let him tell the tale; + Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him speak. + +LUCIUS Then, noble auditory, be it known to you, + That cursed Chiron and Demetrius + Were they that murdered our emperor's brother; + And they it were that ravished our sister: + For their fell faults our brothers were beheaded; + Our father's tears despised, and basely cozen'd + Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel out, + And sent her enemies unto the grave. + Lastly, myself unkindly banished, + The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, + To beg relief among Rome's enemies: + Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears. + And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend. + I am the turned forth, be it known to you, + That have preserved her welfare in my blood; + And from her bosom took the enemy's point, + Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. + Alas, you know I am no vaunter, I; + My scars can witness, dumb although they are, + That my report is just and full of truth. + But, soft! methinks I do digress too much, + Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; + For when no friends are by, men praise themselves. + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Now is my turn to speak. Behold this child: + + [Pointing to the Child in the arms of an Attendant] + + Of this was Tamora delivered; + The issue of an irreligious Moor, + Chief architect and plotter of these woes: + The villain is alive in Titus' house, + And as he is, to witness this is true. + Now judge what cause had Titus to revenge + These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, + Or more than any living man could bear. + Now you have heard the truth, what say you, Romans? + Have we done aught amiss,--show us wherein, + And, from the place where you behold us now, + The poor remainder of Andronici + Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down. + And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, + And make a mutual closure of our house. + Speak, Romans, speak; and if you say we shall, + Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. + +AEMILIUS Come, come, thou reverend man of Rome, + And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, + Lucius our emperor; for well I know + The common voice do cry it shall be so. + +All Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal emperor! + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house, + + [To Attendants] + + And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, + To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death, + As punishment for his most wicked life. + + [Exeunt Attendants] + + [LUCIUS, MARCUS, and the others descend] + +All Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious governor! + +LUCIUS Thanks, gentle Romans: may I govern so, + To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe! + But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, + For nature puts me to a heavy task: + Stand all aloof: but, uncle, draw you near, + To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk. + O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, + + [Kissing TITUS] + + These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain'd face, + The last true duties of thy noble son! + +MARCUS ANDRONICUS Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss, + Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: + O were the sum of these that I should pay + Countless and infinite, yet would I pay them! + +LUCIUS Come hither, boy; come, come, and learn of us + To melt in showers: thy grandsire loved thee well: + Many a time he danced thee on his knee, + Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow: + Many a matter hath he told to thee, + Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; + In that respect, then, like a loving child, + Shed yet some small drops from thy tender spring, + Because kind nature doth require it so: + Friends should associate friends in grief and woe: + Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave; + Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. + +Young LUCIUS O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart + Would I were dead, so you did live again! + O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; + My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. + + [Re-enter Attendants with AARON] + +AEMILIUS You sad Andronici, have done with woes: + Give sentence on this execrable wretch, + That hath been breeder of these dire events. + +LUCIUS Set him breast-deep in earth, and famish him; + There let him stand, and rave, and cry for food; + If any one relieves or pities him, + For the offence he dies. This is our doom: + Some stay to see him fasten'd in the earth. + +AARON O, why should wrath be mute, and fury dumb? + I am no baby, I, that with base prayers + I should repent the evils I have done: + Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did + Would I perform, if I might have my will; + If one good deed in all my life I did, + I do repent it from my very soul. + +LUCIUS Some loving friends convey the emperor hence, + And give him burial in his father's grave: + My father and Lavinia shall forthwith + Be closed in our household's monument. + As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, + No funeral rite, nor man m mourning weeds, + No mournful bell shall ring her burial; + But throw her forth to beasts and birds of prey: + Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity; + And, being so, shall have like want of pity. + See justice done on Aaron, that damn'd Moor, + By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: + Then, afterwards, to order well the state, + That like events may ne'er it ruinate. + + [Exeunt] diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/zad1.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/zad1.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70c7ceb --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/ask21_lista_13/zad1.c @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +void merge1(long src1[], long src2[], long dest[], long n) { + long i1 = 0, i2 = 0; + while (i1 < n && i2 < n) + *dest++ = src1[i1] < src2[i2] ? src2[i1++] : src2[i2++]; +} + +void merge2(long src1[], long src2[], long dest[], long n) { + long i1 = 0, i2 = 0; + while (i1 < n && i2 < n) { + int i1_c = i1, i2_c = i2; + int x = (src1[i1] < src2[i2]); + *dest++ = x * src2[i1] + (x^1) * src2[i2]; + i1 += x; + i2 += x^1; + } +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista13/sum.txt b/semestr-4/ask/lista13/sum.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e69de29 diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista2/ask21_lista_2.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista2/ask21_lista_2.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6df9d7 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista2/ask21_lista_2.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista2/pom.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista2/pom.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87d542d --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista2/pom.c @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +#include +#include +#include + +char* utb(uint32_t x) { + static char rep[36]; + int cnt = 34; + for (int i = 0; i < 32; i += 1) { + if (i > 0 && i % 8 == 0) { + rep[cnt] = ' '; + cnt -= 1; + } + rep[cnt] = (x & 1) + '0'; + cnt -= 1; + x >>= 1; + } + rep[35] = '\0'; + return rep; +} + +void pb(uint32_t x) { + printf("%s : %d\n", utb(x), x); +} + +// int main() { +// /* Zadanie 1 */ + +// int32_t x; +// x = (1<<31); +// printf("%d, %d, %d %d\n", x, (x > 0), x-1, (x - 1 < 0)); +// } + +int main() { + /* Zadanie 1 */ + int32_t x; + scanf("%d", &x); + printf("%d %d\n", x*x, INT_MIN); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista3/ask21_lista_3.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista3/ask21_lista_3.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d83e9f8 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista3/ask21_lista_3.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista4/ask21_lista_4.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista4/ask21_lista_4.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87e0e4a Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista4/ask21_lista_4.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/ask21_lista_5.pdf b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/ask21_lista_5.pdf new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8c1977 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/ask21_lista_5.pdf differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle3.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle3.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f625752 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle3.s @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ + .global puzzle3 + + .text +puzzle3: # rdi: n; rsi: d + movl %edi, %edi # zeruje 32 starsze bity rdi + salq $32, %rsi # rsi <<= 32 + movl $32, %edx # edx := 32 + movl $0x80000000, %ecx # ecx := MIN_INT + xorl %eax, %eax # eax := 0 +.L3: addq %rdi, %rdi # rdi *= 2 + movq %rdi, %r8 # r8 := rdi + subq %rsi, %r8 # r8 -= rsi + js .L2 # if r8 < 0 then jump to L2 + orl %ecx, %eax # eax |= ecx + movq %r8, %rdi # rdi := r8 +.L2: shrl %ecx # ecx >>= 1 + decl %edx # edx-- + jne .L3 # if (edx != 0) then jump to L3 + ret diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle4.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle4.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16ca386 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle4.s @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ +.global puzzle4 + +.text +puzzle4: # argumenty: rdi - long*, rsi - long, rdx - uint64, rcx - uint64 + movq %rcx, %rax # rax := rcx + subq %rdx, %rax # rax -= rdx + shrq %rax # rax >>= 1; // ale logiczne! + addq %rdx, %rax # rax += rdx; + cmpq %rdx, %rcx # if rcx < rdx + jb .L5 # then jump to L5 + movq (%rdi,%rax,8), %r8 # r8 = *(rdi + 8*rax) + cmpq %rsi, %r8 # if rsi == r8 + je .L10 # then jump to L10 + cmpq %rsi, %r8 # if (r8 - rsi < 0) <=> r8 < rsi + jg .L11 # then jump to L11 + leaq 1(%rax), %rdx # rdx := rax + 1 + call puzzle4 # call recursively puzzle4 +.L10: ret # return rax +.L11: leaq -1(%rax), %rcx # rcx := rax - 1 + call puzzle4 # call recursively puzzle4 + ret # return rax +.L5: movl $-1, %eax # eax := -1 + ret # return rax + diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle5.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle5.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02c3aea --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/puzzle5.s @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ +400590 : +400590: 48 83 subq $0x3c, %rsi # rsi -= 0x3c +400594: 48 83 fe 0 cmpq $0x5, %rsi # if rsi > 0x5 +400598: 77 29 ja *0x4005c3 # then jump to line 16 +40059a: ff 24 f5 f8 06 40 00 jmpq *0x4006f8(,%rsi,8) # jump to 19 + rsi +4005a1: 48 8d 04 fd 00 00 00 00 lea 0x0(,%rdi,8),%rax # rax := rdi * 8 +4005a9: c3 retq # return rax +4005aa: 48 89 f8 movq %rdi,%rax # rax := rdi +4005ad: 48 c1 f8 03 sarq $0x3,%rax # rax >>= 3 (arithmetic) +4005b1: c3 retq # return rax +4005b2: 48 89 f8 movq %rdi,%rax # rax := rdi +4005b5: 48 c1 e0 04 shlq $0x4,%rax # rax <<= 4 (logic) +4005b9: 48 29 f8 subq %rdi,%rax # rax -= rdi +4005bc: 48 89 c7 movq %rax,%rdi # rdi := rax +4005bf: 48 0f af ff imulq %rdi,%rdi # rdi *= rdi +4005c3: 48 8d 47 4b leaq 0x4b(%rdi),%rax # rax := 0x4b + rdi +4005c7: c3 retq # return rax + +0x4006f8: 0x4005a1 # line 6 +0x400700: 0x4005a1 # line 6 +0x400708: 0x4005b2 # line 11 +0x400710: 0x4005c3 # line 16 +0x400718: 0x4005aa # line 8 +0x400720: 0x4005bf # line 15 diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.asm b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.asm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22aef29 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.asm @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +puzzle: testl %esi, %esi + je .L4 ; jesli esi == 0, skocz do L4 + xorl %edx, %edx ; edx := 0 + xorl %eax, %eax ; eax := 0 +.L3: movl %edi, %ecx ; ecx := edi + andl $1, %ecx ; ecx &= 1 + addl %ecx, %eax ; eax += eax + sarq %rdi ; rdi >>= 1 + incl %edx, ; edx++ + cmpl %edx, %esi ; edx - esi != 0? <=> edx != esi + jne .L3 ; jesli tak, skocz do L3 + ret +.L4 movl %esi, %eax ; return esi + ret + diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9379bb2 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.c @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ +#include +#include + +int puzzle(long x /* rdi */ , unsigned n /* rsi */) { + if (n == 0) { + return n; + } + int t = 0; // edx := 0 + int result = 0; // eax := 0 + do { + int m = x & 0xffffffff; // ecx := edi + m &= 1; + result += m; + x >>= 1; + t++; + } while (t != n); + return result; // ???? +} + +int main() { + long x; + unsigned n; + scanf("%ld%u", &x, &n); + return puzzle(x, n); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b935b9e --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad1.s @@ -0,0 +1,98 @@ + .file "zad1.c" + .text + .p2align 4 + .globl puzzle + .type puzzle, @function +puzzle: +.LFB23: + .cfi_startproc + endbr64 + xorl %r8d, %r8d + testl %esi, %esi + je .L1 + xorl %eax, %eax + .p2align 4,,10 + .p2align 3 +.L3: + movl %edi, %edx + addl $1, %eax + sarq %rdi + andl $1, %edx + addl %edx, %r8d + cmpl %esi, %eax + jne .L3 +.L1: + movl %r8d, %eax + ret + .cfi_endproc +.LFE23: + .size puzzle, .-puzzle + .section .rodata.str1.1,"aMS",@progbits,1 +.LC0: + .string "%ld%u" + .section .text.startup,"ax",@progbits + .p2align 4 + .globl main + .type main, @function +main: +.LFB24: + .cfi_startproc + endbr64 + subq $40, %rsp + .cfi_def_cfa_offset 48 + leaq .LC0(%rip), %rdi + movq %fs:40, %rax + movq %rax, 24(%rsp) + xorl %eax, %eax + leaq 12(%rsp), %rdx + leaq 16(%rsp), %rsi + call __isoc99_scanf@PLT + movl 12(%rsp), %ecx + movq 16(%rsp), %rax + xorl %r8d, %r8d + testl %ecx, %ecx + je .L8 + xorl %edx, %edx + .p2align 4,,10 + .p2align 3 +.L10: + movl %eax, %esi + addl $1, %edx + sarq %rax + andl $1, %esi + addl %esi, %r8d + cmpl %ecx, %edx + jne .L10 +.L8: + movq 24(%rsp), %rax + xorq %fs:40, %rax + jne .L16 + movl %r8d, %eax + addq $40, %rsp + .cfi_remember_state + .cfi_def_cfa_offset 8 + ret +.L16: + .cfi_restore_state + call __stack_chk_fail@PLT + .cfi_endproc +.LFE24: + .size main, .-main + .ident "GCC: (Ubuntu 9.3.0-17ubuntu1~20.04) 9.3.0" + .section .note.GNU-stack,"",@progbits + .section .note.gnu.property,"a" + .align 8 + .long 1f - 0f + .long 4f - 1f + .long 5 +0: + .string "GNU" +1: + .align 8 + .long 0xc0000002 + .long 3f - 2f +2: + .long 0x3 +3: + .align 8 +4: diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.asm b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.asm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fe4364 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.asm @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +puzzle2: + movq %rdi, %rax ; rax := rdi +.L3: movb (%rax), %r9b ; r9b := *rax + leaq 1(%rax), %r8 ; r8 := rax + 1 + movq %rsi, %rdx ; rdx := *rsi +.L2: movb (%rdx), %cl ; cl := *rdx + incq %rdx ; rdx++ + testb %cl, %cl ; if (cl == 0) + je .L4 ; then jump to L4 + cmpb %cl, %r9b ; if (cl != r9b) + jne .L2 ; then jump to L2 + movq %r8, %rax ; rax := r8 + jmp .L3 ; jump to L3 +.L4 subq %rdi, %rax ; rax -= rdi + ret \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab9cb54 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad2.c @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ +#include +#include + +long puzzle2(char *rdi /* rdi */, char *rsi /* rsi */) { + char *rax = rdi; +L3: + char r9b = *rax; + char *r8 = rax + 1; + char *rdx = rsi; +L2: + char cl = *rdx; + rdx++; + if (cl == 0) { + goto L4; + } + if (cl != r9b) { + goto L2; + } + rax = r8; + goto L3; +L4: + return rax - rdi; +} + + +// funkcja sprawdza jaka jest pierwsza litera z s która nie występuje w d +// jesli wszystkie występują, to zwróci długość s. +long puzzle2_decoded(char *s /* rdi */, char *d /* rsi */) { + for (char *result = s ; ; result++) { + char first = *result; + char *crawl = d; + for (char *crawl = d; *crawl != first; crawl++) { + if (*crawl == 0) { + return result - s; + } + } + } +} + + + +int main() { + +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad3.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad3.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ce9067 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad3.c @@ -0,0 +1,60 @@ +#include +#include +#include + +uint32_t puzzle3(uint32_t n, uint32_t d); + +// uint32_t divv(uint32_t edi, uint32_t esi) { +// uint64_t rdi = edi; +// uint64_t rsi = esi; +// rsi <<= 32; +// uint8_t edx = 32; +// uint32_t ecx = 0x80000000; +// uint32_t eax = 0; +// L3: +// rdi += rdi; +// int64_t r8 = rdi; +// r8 -= rsi; +// if (r8 < 0) { +// goto L2; +// } +// eax |= ecx; +// rdi = r8; +// L2: +// ecx >>= 1; +// edx--; +// if (edx != 0) { +// goto L3; +// } +// return eax; +// } + +uint32_t decoded(uint32_t n, uint32_t d) { + uint64_t N = n; + uint64_t D = (uint64_t)d << 32; + + uint32_t bit = 0x80000000; + uint32_t result = 0; + for (uint32_t edx = 32; edx > 0; edx--) { + N += N; + if ((int64_t)(N - D) >= 0) { + result |= bit; + N -= D; + } + bit >>= 1; + } + return result; +} + +int main() { + for (uint32_t n=0; n <= 1000; ++n) { + for (uint32_t d=1; d <= 1000; ++d) { + if (puzzle3(n,d) != decoded(n, d)) { + printf("%d %d\n", n, d); + printf("%u %u\n", puzzle3(n, d), decoded(n, d)); + return 0; + } + } + } + printf("%d\n", puzzle3(1000000000, 2)); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad4.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad4.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6927fb --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad4.c @@ -0,0 +1,66 @@ +#include +#include +#include + +int puzzle4(long *a, long v, uint64_t s, uint64_t e); + +long tab[100]; + +int assembly_like(long *rdi, long rsi, uint64_t rdx, uint64_t rcx) { + uint64_t rax = rcx; + rax -= rdx; + rax >>= 1; + rax += rdx; + if (rcx < rdx) { + goto L5; + } + long r8 = *(rdi + rax*8); + if (rsi == r8) { + goto L10; + } + if (rsi > r8) { + goto L11; + } + rdx = rax + 1; + assembly_like(rdi, rsi, rdx, rcx); +L10: + return (int)rax; +L11: + rcx = rax - 1; + assembly_like(rdi, rsi, rdx, rcx); + return (int)rax; +L5: + return -1; +} + + +// binsearch :) +int decode(long *a, long v, uint64_t s, uint64_t e) { + int result = (e + s) / 2; + if (e < s) { + return -1; + } + long val = a[result]; + if (v == val) { + return result; + } + if (v < val) { + e = result - 1; + } + else { + s = result + 1; + } + return decode(a, v, s, e); +} + +int main() { + uint64_t n; + long v; + scanf("%ld %ld", &n, &v); + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + scanf("%ld", &tab[i]); + } + printf("%d\n", puzzle4(tab, v, 0, n-1)); + printf("%d\n", decode(tab, v, 0, n-1)); + +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad5.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad5.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c1fe957 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista5/zad5.c @@ -0,0 +1,54 @@ +#include +#include + +long switch_prob(long rdi, long rsi) { + static void *array[] = { &&L1, &&L1, &&L2, &&L3, &&L4, &&L5 }; + long rax; + rsi -= 0x3c; + if (rsi > 0x5) { + goto L3; + } + goto *array[rsi]; +L1: + rax = rdi * 8; + return rax; +L4: + rax = rdi; + rax >>= 3; + retun rax; +L2: + rax = rdi; + rax <<= 4; + rax -= rdi; + rdi = rax; +L5: + rdi *= rdi; +L3: + rax = 0x4b + rdi; + return rax; +} + +long decode(long x, long n) { + long result; + n -= 0x3c; + switch (n) + { + case 0: + case 1: + return x + 8; + case 4: + return x >> 3; + case 2: + result = (x << 4) - x; + x = result; + case 5: + x *= x; + case 3: + default: + return 0x4b + x; + } +} + +int main() { + +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a18d20 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.c @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +```c= + 0: 55 pushq %rbp + 1: 48 89 e5 movq %rsp, %rbp + 4: 48 83 ec 10 subq $16, %rsp + 8: 48 89 e0 movq %rsp, %rax #wsk stosu to rax + b: 48 8d 0c fd 0f 00 00 00 leaq 15(,%rdi,8), %rcx #n * rozmiar longa + 15 do rcx (+15 to kwestia wyrównania/sufit) + 13: 48 83 e1 f0 andq $-16, %rcx #zerujemy ostatnie 4 bity + 17: 48 29 c8 subq %rcx, %rax #oblicz nowy wskaźnik stosu + 1a: 48 89 c4 movq %rax, %rsp #nowy wskaźnik wrzuć do rsp + 1d: 48 8d 4d f8 leaq -8(%rbp), %rcx + 21: 48 89 4c f8 f8 movq %rcx, -8(%rax,%rdi,8) + 26: 48 c7 45 f8 00 00 00 00 movq $0, -8(%rbp) + 2e: 48 85 ff testq %rdi, %rdi + 31: 7e 1d jle 29 <_aframe+0x50> + 33: 31 c9 xorl %ecx, %ecx + 35: 66 2e 0f 1f 84 00 00 00 00 00 nopw %cs:(%rax,%rax) + 3f: 90 nop + 40: 48 89 14 c8 movq %rdx, (%rax,%rcx,8) + 44: 48 ff c1 incq %rcx + 47: 48 39 cf cmpq %rcx, %rdi + 4a: 75 f4 jne -12 <_aframe+0x40> + 4c: 48 89 7d f8 movq %rdi, -8(%rbp) + 50: 48 8b 04 f0 movq (%rax,%rsi,8), %rax + 54: 48 8b 00 movq (%rax), %rax + 57: 48 89 ec movq %rbp, %rsp #powrót do poprzedniej ramki + 5a: 5d popq %rbp #wrzucenie do rbp poprzedniego adresu + 5b: c3 retq +``` \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a39398 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle.s @@ -0,0 +1,22 @@ + .globl puzzle + + .text +puzzle: + push %rbp # adres koncu ramki, callee-saved + xorl %eax, %eax # zeruje %rax + mov %rsi, %rbp # rbp := rsi, czyli rbp := p + push %rbx # rbx na stos, callee-saved + mov %rdi, %rbx # rbx := rdi, czyli rbx := n + sub $24, %rsp # rsp -= 24, czyli przesun rsp o 3 bajty w dół + test %rdi, %rdi # rdi == 0?, czyli n == 0? + jle .L1 # jesli tak, skocz do L1 + lea 8(%rsp), %rsi # w p.w. rsi := rsp + 8 + lea (%rdi,%rdi), %rdi # rdi := 2*rdi + call puzzle # wywolanie rekurencyjne puzzle + add 8(%rsp), %rax # rax := rax + *(rsp + 8) + add %rax, %rbx # rbx := rbx + rax +.L1: mov %rbx, (%rbp) # *rbp := rbx, czyli *p := rbx + add $24, %rsp # rsp := rsp + 24 (przesun adres stacka o 3 bajty) + pop %rbx # przywracamy rbx + pop %rbp # przywracamy rbp + ret diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle7.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle7.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d26961 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle7.s @@ -0,0 +1,29 @@ + .global puzzle7 + + .text +puzzle7: + movq %rsi, -40(%rsp) + movq %rdx, -32(%rsp) + movq %rcx, -24(%rsp) + movq %r8, -16(%rsp) + movq %r9, -8(%rsp) + movl $8, -72(%rsp) + leaq 8(%rsp), %rax + movq %rax, -64(%rsp) + leaq -48(%rsp), %rax + movq %rax, -56(%rsp) + movl $0, %eax + jmp .L2 +.L3: movq -64(%rsp), %rdx + leaq 8(%rdx), %rcx + movq %rcx, -64(%rsp) +.L4: addq (%rdx), %rax +.L2: subq $1, %rdi + js .L6 + cmpl $47, -72(%rsp) + ja .L3 + movl -72(%rsp), %edx + addq -56(%rsp), %rdx + addl $8, -72(%rsp) + jmp .L4 +.L6: ret diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d65f9d --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.c @@ -0,0 +1,25 @@ +#include + +struct T { + long min; + long max; + long mean; +}; + +struct T puzzle8(long *a, long n); + +struct T decode(long *a, long n) { + long maks = LONG_MIN; + long mini = LONG_MAX; + long sum = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) { + if (maks < a[i]) maks = a[i]; + if (mini > a[i]) mini = a[i]; + sum += a[i]; + } + struct T ret; + ret.min = mini; + ret.max = maks; + ret.mean = sum / n; + return ret; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc3805d --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/puzzle8.s @@ -0,0 +1,30 @@ +# rdi - adres zwracanej struktury (niejawnie) +# rsi - *a +# rdx - n + + .global puzzle8 + + .text +puzzle8: + movq %rdx, %r11 # r11 := n + xorl %r10d, %r10d # r10 := 0 + xorl %eax, %eax # rax := 0 + movq $LONG_MIN, %r8 # r8 := 0x800... + movq $LONG_MAX, %r9 # r9 := 0x7ff... +.L2: cmpq %r11, %r10 # if n <= r10 + jge .L5 # then jump to L5, else + movq (%rsi,%r10,8), %rcx # rcx := a[r10] + cmpq %rcx, %r9 # if a[r10] < r9 + cmovg %rcx, %r9 # then r9 = a[r10] + cmpq %rcx, %r8 # if a[r10] > r8 + cmovl %rcx, %r8 # then r8 = a[r10] + addq %rcx, %rax # rax += a[r10] + incq %r10 # r10++ + jmp .L2 +.L5: cqto # jeśli rax < 0 to niech rdx zaplonie + movq %r9, (%rdi) # rdi->0 := r9 + idivq %r11 # podziel rax przez r11, efektywnie rax /= r11 + movq %r8, 8(%rdi) # rdi->8 := r8 + movq %rax, 16(%rdi) # rdi->16 := rax + movq %rdi, %rax # rax := rdi + ret \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/test.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/test.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8a84ac2 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/test.c @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +#include +#include + +int main() { + int32_t x = 0xc0000000; + int32_t y = x + x; + + printf("%d, %d\n", x, y); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista6/zad7.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/zad7.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9072504 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista6/zad7.c @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +#include +#include + +int wypisuj(int cnt, ...) { + va_list v; + va_start(v, cnt); + int sum = 0; + for (int i = 0; i < cnt; i++) { + sum += va_arg(v, int); + } + return sum; +} + +int puzzle7(int cnt, ...); + +int main() { + printf("%d\n", puzzle7(10, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10)); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/eval.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/eval.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7340a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/eval.s @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ + .global eval + + .text +eval: + movq %rdi, %rax + movq 16(%rsp), %rcx + movq 24(%rsp), %rdx + movq (%rdx), %rsi + movq %rcx, %rdx + imulq %rsi, %rdx + movq %rdx, (%rdi) + movq 8(%rsp), %rdx + movq %rdx, %rdi + subq %rsi, %rdi + movq %rdi, 8(%rax) + subq %rcx, %rdx + movq %rdx, 16(%rax) + ret \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/wrap.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/wrap.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f01dfc --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/wrap.s @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ + .global wrap + + .text +wrap: + subq $72, %rsp + movq %rdx, (%rsp) + movq %rsp, %rdx + leaq 8(%rsp), %rax + pushq %rdx + pushq %rsi + pushq %rdi + movq %rax, %rdi + call eval + movq 40(%rsp), %rax + addq 32(%rsp), %rax + imulq 48(%rsp), %rax + addq $96, %rsp + ret \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d65cb4f --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.c @@ -0,0 +1,38 @@ +#include + +typedef struct A { + long u[2]; + long *v; +} SA; + +typedef struct B { + long p[2]; + long q; +} SB; + +SB eval(SA s); +long wrap(long x, long y, long z); + +SB eval_decoded(SA a) { + SB ret; + ret.p[0] = a.u[1] * (*a.v); + ret.p[1] = a.u[0] - (*a.v); + ret.q = a.u[0] - a.u[1]; + return ret; +} + +long wrap_decoded(long x, long y, long z) { + SA a; + a.v = &z; + a.u[0] = x; + a.u[1] = y; + SB b = eval_decoded(a); + long result = (b.p[1] + b.p[0]) * b.q; + return result; +} + +int main() { + printf("%ld\n", wrap(15, 16, 17)); + printf("%ld\n", wrap_decoded(15, 16, 17)); + return 0; +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad5.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e69de29 diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.cpp b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.cpp new file mode 100644 index 0000000..073224f --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.cpp @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +struct Base { + Base(int n) : data(n) {} + int data; + virtual int doit(int n) { return n - data; } +}; +struct Derived : Base { + Derived(int n) : Base(n + 1) {} + int doit(int n) { return n * data; } +}; + +int doit(Base *bp) { + return bp->doit(1); +} + +int main(int argc, char *argv[]) { + Base b = Base(10); + Derived d = Derived(20); + return doit(&b) + doit(&d); +} \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.ll b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.ll new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a99e8d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista7/zad7.ll @@ -0,0 +1,174 @@ +; ModuleID = 'zad7.cpp' +source_filename = "zad7.cpp" +target datalayout = "e-m:e-p270:32:32-p271:32:32-p272:64:64-i64:64-f80:128-n8:16:32:64-S128" +target triple = "x86_64-pc-linux-gnu" + +%struct.Base = type <{ i32 (...)**, i32, [4 x i8] }> +%struct.Derived = type { %struct.Base.base, [4 x i8] } +%struct.Base.base = type <{ i32 (...)**, i32 }> + +$_ZN4BaseC1Ei = comdat any + +$_ZN7DerivedC1Ei = comdat any + +$_ZN4BaseC2Ei = comdat any + +$_ZN4Base4doitEi = comdat any + +$_ZN7DerivedC2Ei = comdat any + +$_ZN7Derived4doitEi = comdat any + +$_ZTV4Base = comdat any + +$_ZTS4Base = comdat any + +$_ZTI4Base = comdat any + +$_ZTV7Derived = comdat any + +$_ZTS7Derived = comdat any + +$_ZTI7Derived = comdat any + +@_ZTV4Base = linkonce_odr unnamed_addr constant { [3 x i8*] } { [3 x i8*] [i8* null, i8* bitcast ({ i8*, i8* }* @_ZTI4Base to i8*), i8* bitcast (i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)* @_ZN4Base4doitEi to i8*)] }, comdat, align 8 +@_ZTVN10__cxxabiv117__class_type_infoE = external global i8* +@_ZTS4Base = linkonce_odr constant [6 x i8] c"4Base\00", comdat, align 1 +@_ZTI4Base = linkonce_odr constant { i8*, i8* } { i8* bitcast (i8** getelementptr inbounds (i8*, i8** @_ZTVN10__cxxabiv117__class_type_infoE, i64 2) to i8*), i8* getelementptr inbounds ([6 x i8], [6 x i8]* @_ZTS4Base, i32 0, i32 0) }, comdat, align 8 +@_ZTV7Derived = linkonce_odr unnamed_addr constant { [3 x i8*] } { [3 x i8*] [i8* null, i8* bitcast ({ i8*, i8*, i8* }* @_ZTI7Derived to i8*), i8* bitcast (i32 (%struct.Derived*, i32)* @_ZN7Derived4doitEi to i8*)] }, comdat, align 8 +@_ZTVN10__cxxabiv120__si_class_type_infoE = external global i8* +@_ZTS7Derived = linkonce_odr constant [9 x i8] c"7Derived\00", comdat, align 1 +@_ZTI7Derived = linkonce_odr constant { i8*, i8*, i8* } { i8* bitcast (i8** getelementptr inbounds (i8*, i8** @_ZTVN10__cxxabiv120__si_class_type_infoE, i64 2) to i8*), i8* getelementptr inbounds ([9 x i8], [9 x i8]* @_ZTS7Derived, i32 0, i32 0), i8* bitcast ({ i8*, i8* }* @_ZTI4Base to i8*) }, comdat, align 8 + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define i32 @_Z4doitP4Base(%struct.Base* %bp) #0 { +entry: + %bp.addr = alloca %struct.Base*, align 8 + store %struct.Base* %bp, %struct.Base** %bp.addr, align 8 + %0 = load %struct.Base*, %struct.Base** %bp.addr, align 8 + %1 = bitcast %struct.Base* %0 to i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)*** + %vtable = load i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)**, i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)*** %1, align 8 + %vfn = getelementptr inbounds i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)*, i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)** %vtable, i64 0 + %2 = load i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)*, i32 (%struct.Base*, i32)** %vfn, align 8 + %call = call i32 %2(%struct.Base* %0, i32 1) + ret i32 %call +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline norecurse nounwind optnone +define i32 @main(i32 %argc, i8** %argv) #1 { +entry: + %retval = alloca i32, align 4 + %argc.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + %argv.addr = alloca i8**, align 8 + %b = alloca %struct.Base, align 8 + %d = alloca %struct.Derived, align 8 + store i32 0, i32* %retval, align 4 + store i32 %argc, i32* %argc.addr, align 4 + store i8** %argv, i8*** %argv.addr, align 8 + call void @_ZN4BaseC1Ei(%struct.Base* %b, i32 10) + call void @_ZN7DerivedC1Ei(%struct.Derived* %d, i32 20) + %call = call i32 @_Z4doitP4Base(%struct.Base* %b) + %0 = bitcast %struct.Derived* %d to %struct.Base* + %call1 = call i32 @_Z4doitP4Base(%struct.Base* %0) + %add = add nsw i32 %call, %call1 + ret i32 %add +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr void @_ZN4BaseC1Ei(%struct.Base* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Base*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Base* %this, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Base*, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + call void @_ZN4BaseC2Ei(%struct.Base* %this1, i32 %0) + ret void +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr void @_ZN7DerivedC1Ei(%struct.Derived* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Derived*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Derived* %this, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Derived*, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + call void @_ZN7DerivedC2Ei(%struct.Derived* %this1, i32 %0) + ret void +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr void @_ZN4BaseC2Ei(%struct.Base* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Base*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Base* %this, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Base*, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = bitcast %struct.Base* %this1 to i32 (...)*** + store i32 (...)** bitcast (i8** getelementptr inbounds ({ [3 x i8*] }, { [3 x i8*] }* @_ZTV4Base, i32 0, inrange i32 0, i32 2) to i32 (...)**), i32 (...)*** %0, align 8 + %data = getelementptr inbounds %struct.Base, %struct.Base* %this1, i32 0, i32 1 + %1 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + store i32 %1, i32* %data, align 8 + ret void +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr i32 @_ZN4Base4doitEi(%struct.Base* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Base*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Base* %this, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Base*, %struct.Base** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %data = getelementptr inbounds %struct.Base, %struct.Base* %this1, i32 0, i32 1 + %1 = load i32, i32* %data, align 8 + %sub = sub nsw i32 %0, %1 + ret i32 %sub +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr void @_ZN7DerivedC2Ei(%struct.Derived* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Derived*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Derived* %this, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Derived*, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = bitcast %struct.Derived* %this1 to %struct.Base* + %1 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %add = add nsw i32 %1, 1 + call void @_ZN4BaseC2Ei(%struct.Base* %0, i32 %add) + %2 = bitcast %struct.Derived* %this1 to i32 (...)*** + store i32 (...)** bitcast (i8** getelementptr inbounds ({ [3 x i8*] }, { [3 x i8*] }* @_ZTV7Derived, i32 0, inrange i32 0, i32 2) to i32 (...)**), i32 (...)*** %2, align 8 + ret void +} + +; Function Attrs: noinline nounwind optnone +define linkonce_odr i32 @_ZN7Derived4doitEi(%struct.Derived* %this, i32 %n) unnamed_addr #0 comdat align 2 { +entry: + %this.addr = alloca %struct.Derived*, align 8 + %n.addr = alloca i32, align 4 + store %struct.Derived* %this, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + store i32 %n, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %this1 = load %struct.Derived*, %struct.Derived** %this.addr, align 8 + %0 = load i32, i32* %n.addr, align 4 + %1 = bitcast %struct.Derived* %this1 to %struct.Base* + %data = getelementptr inbounds %struct.Base, %struct.Base* %1, i32 0, i32 1 + %2 = load i32, i32* %data, align 8 + %mul = mul nsw i32 %0, %2 + ret i32 %mul +} + +attributes #0 = { noinline nounwind optnone "correctly-rounded-divide-sqrt-fp-math"="false" "disable-tail-calls"="false" "frame-pointer"="none" "less-precise-fpmad"="false" "min-legal-vector-width"="0" "no-infs-fp-math"="false" "no-jump-tables"="false" "no-nans-fp-math"="false" "no-signed-zeros-fp-math"="false" "no-trapping-math"="false" "stack-protector-buffer-size"="8" "target-features"="+cx8,+mmx,+sse,+sse2,+x87" "unsafe-fp-math"="false" "use-soft-float"="false" } +attributes #1 = { noinline norecurse nounwind optnone "correctly-rounded-divide-sqrt-fp-math"="false" "disable-tail-calls"="false" "frame-pointer"="none" "less-precise-fpmad"="false" "min-legal-vector-width"="0" "no-infs-fp-math"="false" "no-jump-tables"="false" "no-nans-fp-math"="false" "no-signed-zeros-fp-math"="false" "no-trapping-math"="false" "stack-protector-buffer-size"="8" "target-features"="+cx8,+mmx,+sse,+sse2,+x87" "unsafe-fp-math"="false" "use-soft-float"="false" } + +!llvm.module.flags = !{!0} +!llvm.ident = !{!1} + +!0 = !{i32 1, !"wchar_size", i32 4} +!1 = !{!"clang version 10.0.0-4ubuntu1 "} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/._lista_8 b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/._lista_8 new file mode 100755 index 0000000..893436c Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/._lista_8 differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/ask21_lista_8.tgz b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/ask21_lista_8.tgz new file mode 100644 index 0000000..789c9af Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/ask21_lista_8.tgz differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/bar.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/bar.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97fbd4f --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/bar.c @@ -0,0 +1,5 @@ +// extern long foo; + +int bar = 42; +// long *foo_p = &foo; +short dead[15]; diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/even.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/even.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bf8606 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/even.c @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +int is_odd(long n); + +int is_even(long n) { + if (n == 0) + return 1; + else + return is_odd(n - 1); +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/foo.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/foo.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..080d831 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/foo.c @@ -0,0 +1,5 @@ +// extern int bar; + +long foo = 19; +// int *bar_p = &bar; +char code[17]; diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/lazy.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/lazy.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb08cf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/lazy.c @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +#include + +int main(void) { + puts("first time"); + puts("second time"); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/main.lds b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/main.lds new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25a4ca9 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/main.lds @@ -0,0 +1,39 @@ +OUTPUT_FORMAT("elf64-x86-64") +OUTPUT_ARCH(i386:x86-64) +ENTRY(_start) +PHDRS +{ + code PT_LOAD FLAGS(5); + rodata PT_LOAD FLAGS(4); + data PT_LOAD FLAGS(6); +} +SECTIONS +{ + . = 0x400000 + SIZEOF_HEADERS; + + .text : + { + *(.text .text.*) + } : code + + .rodata : + { + *(.rodata .rodata.*) + } : rodata + + .data : + { + *(.data .data.*) + } : data + + .bss : + { + *(.bss .bss.*) + *(COMMON) + } : data + + /DISCARD/ : + { + *(.note.gnu.property) + } +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-1.map b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-1.map new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e93e7c --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-1.map @@ -0,0 +1,300 @@ + +Merging program properties + + +Discarded input sections + + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 bar.o + +Memory Configuration + +Name Origin Length Attributes +*default* 0x0000000000000000 0xffffffffffffffff + +Linker script and memory map + +LOAD foo.o +LOAD bar.o + +.interp + *(.interp) + +.note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 foo.o + +.note.gnu.build-id + *(.note.gnu.build-id) + +.hash + *(.hash) + +.gnu.hash + *(.gnu.hash) + +.dynsym + *(.dynsym) + +.dynstr + *(.dynstr) + +.gnu.version + *(.gnu.version) + +.gnu.version_d + *(.gnu.version_d) + +.gnu.version_r + *(.gnu.version_r) + +.rela.init + *(.rela.init) + +.rela.text + *(.rela.text) + +.rela.fini + *(.rela.fini) + +.rela.rodata + *(.rela.rodata) + +.rela.data.rel.ro + *(.rela.data.rel.ro) + +.rela.data + *(.rela.data) + +.rela.tdata + *(.rela.tdata) + +.rela.tbss + *(.rela.tbss) + +.rela.ctors + *(.rela.ctors) + +.rela.dtors + *(.rela.dtors) + +.rela.got + *(.rela.got) + +.rela.bss + *(.rela.bss) + +.rela.ldata + *(.rela.ldata) + +.rela.lbss + *(.rela.lbss) + +.rela.lrodata + *(.rela.lrodata) + +.rela.ifunc + *(.rela.ifunc) + +.rela.plt + *(.rela.plt) + +.init + *(SORT_NONE(.init)) + +.plt + *(.plt) + +.plt.got + *(.plt.got) + +.plt.sec + *(.plt.sec) + +.text 0x0000000000000000 0x0 + *(.text .stub) + .text 0x0000000000000000 0x0 foo.o + .text 0x0000000000000000 0x0 bar.o + *(.gnu.warning) + +.fini + *(SORT_NONE(.fini)) + +.rodata + *(.rodata) + +.rodata1 + *(.rodata1) + +.eh_frame_hdr + *(.eh_frame_hdr) + +.eh_frame + *(.eh_frame) + +.gcc_except_table + *(.gcc_except_table) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab*) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges) + +.eh_frame + *(.eh_frame) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab) + +.gcc_except_table + *(.gcc_except_table) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges) + +.tdata + *(.tdata) + +.tbss + *(.tbss) + +.jcr + *(.jcr) + +.dynamic + *(.dynamic) + +.got + *(.got) + +.got.plt + *(.got.plt) + +.data 0x0000000000000000 0xc + *(.data) + .data 0x0000000000000000 0x8 foo.o + 0x0000000000000000 foo + .data 0x0000000000000008 0x4 bar.o + 0x0000000000000008 bar + +.data1 + *(.data1) + +.bss 0x0000000000000000 0x3e + *(.bss) + .bss 0x0000000000000000 0x11 foo.o + 0x0000000000000000 code + *fill* 0x0000000000000011 0xf + .bss 0x0000000000000020 0x1e bar.o + 0x0000000000000020 dead + +.lbss + *(.lbss) + +.lrodata + *(.lrodata) + +.ldata + *(.ldata) + +.stab + *(.stab) + +.stabstr + *(.stabstr) + +.stab.excl + *(.stab.excl) + +.stab.exclstr + *(.stab.exclstr) + +.stab.index + *(.stab.index) + +.stab.indexstr + *(.stab.indexstr) + +.comment 0x0000000000000000 0x56 + *(.comment) + .comment 0x0000000000000000 0x2b foo.o + .comment 0x000000000000002b 0x2b bar.o + +.note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 foo.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 bar.o + +.gnu.build.attributes + *(.gnu.build.attributes) + +.debug + *(.debug) + +.line + *(.line) + +.debug_srcinfo + *(.debug_srcinfo) + +.debug_sfnames + *(.debug_sfnames) + +.debug_aranges + *(.debug_aranges) + +.debug_pubnames + *(.debug_pubnames) + +.debug_info + *(.debug_info) + +.debug_abbrev + *(.debug_abbrev) + +.debug_line + *(.debug_line) + +.debug_frame + *(.debug_frame) + +.debug_str + *(.debug_str) + +.debug_loc + *(.debug_loc) + +.debug_macinfo + *(.debug_macinfo) + +.debug_weaknames + *(.debug_weaknames) + +.debug_funcnames + *(.debug_funcnames) + +.debug_typenames + *(.debug_typenames) + +.debug_varnames + *(.debug_varnames) + +.debug_pubtypes + *(.debug_pubtypes) + +.debug_ranges + *(.debug_ranges) + +.debug_macro + *(.debug_macro) + +.debug_addr + *(.debug_addr) + +.gnu.attributes + *(.gnu.attributes) +OUTPUT(merge-1.o elf64-x86-64) diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-2.map b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-2.map new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2677803 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/merge-2.map @@ -0,0 +1,301 @@ + +Merging program properties + + +Discarded input sections + + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 foo.o + +Memory Configuration + +Name Origin Length Attributes +*default* 0x0000000000000000 0xffffffffffffffff + +Linker script and memory map + +LOAD bar.o +LOAD foo.o + +.interp + *(.interp) + +.note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 bar.o + +.note.gnu.build-id + *(.note.gnu.build-id) + +.hash + *(.hash) + +.gnu.hash + *(.gnu.hash) + +.dynsym + *(.dynsym) + +.dynstr + *(.dynstr) + +.gnu.version + *(.gnu.version) + +.gnu.version_d + *(.gnu.version_d) + 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*(.gcc_except_table) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab*) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges) + +.eh_frame + *(.eh_frame) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab) + +.gcc_except_table + *(.gcc_except_table) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges) + +.tdata + *(.tdata) + +.tbss + *(.tbss) + +.jcr + *(.jcr) + +.dynamic + *(.dynamic) + +.got + *(.got) + +.got.plt + *(.got.plt) + +.data 0x0000000000000000 0x10 + *(.data) + .data 0x0000000000000000 0x4 bar.o + 0x0000000000000000 bar + *fill* 0x0000000000000004 0x4 + .data 0x0000000000000008 0x8 foo.o + 0x0000000000000008 foo + +.data1 + *(.data1) + +.bss 0x0000000000000000 0x31 + *(.bss) + .bss 0x0000000000000000 0x1e bar.o + 0x0000000000000000 dead + *fill* 0x000000000000001e 0x2 + .bss 0x0000000000000020 0x11 foo.o + 0x0000000000000020 code + +.lbss + *(.lbss) + +.lrodata + *(.lrodata) + +.ldata + *(.ldata) + +.stab + *(.stab) + +.stabstr + *(.stabstr) + +.stab.excl + *(.stab.excl) + +.stab.exclstr + *(.stab.exclstr) + +.stab.index + *(.stab.index) + +.stab.indexstr + *(.stab.indexstr) + +.comment 0x0000000000000000 0x56 + *(.comment) + .comment 0x0000000000000000 0x2b bar.o + .comment 0x000000000000002b 0x2b foo.o + +.note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 bar.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 foo.o + +.gnu.build.attributes + *(.gnu.build.attributes) + +.debug + *(.debug) + +.line + *(.line) + +.debug_srcinfo + *(.debug_srcinfo) + +.debug_sfnames + *(.debug_sfnames) + +.debug_aranges + *(.debug_aranges) + +.debug_pubnames + *(.debug_pubnames) + +.debug_info + *(.debug_info) + +.debug_abbrev + *(.debug_abbrev) + +.debug_line + *(.debug_line) + +.debug_frame + *(.debug_frame) + +.debug_str + *(.debug_str) + +.debug_loc + *(.debug_loc) + +.debug_macinfo + *(.debug_macinfo) + +.debug_weaknames + *(.debug_weaknames) + +.debug_funcnames + *(.debug_funcnames) + +.debug_typenames + *(.debug_typenames) + +.debug_varnames + *(.debug_varnames) + +.debug_pubtypes + *(.debug_pubtypes) + +.debug_ranges + *(.debug_ranges) + +.debug_macro + *(.debug_macro) + +.debug_addr + *(.debug_addr) + +.gnu.attributes + *(.gnu.attributes) +OUTPUT(merge-2.o elf64-x86-64) diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-a.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-a.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..39436f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-a.c @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +/* mismatch-a.c */ +void p2(void); + +int main() { + p2(); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-b.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-b.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..451d5b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/mismatch-b.c @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +/* mismatch-b.c */ +#include + +char main; + +void p2() { + printf("0x%x\n", main); +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/odd.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/odd.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c32961e --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/odd.c @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +int is_even(long n); + +int is_odd(long n) { + if (n == 0) + return 0; + else + return is_even(n - 1); +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/relo3.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/relo3.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6aca7b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/relo3.c @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +int relo3(int val) { + switch (val) { + case 100: + return val; + case 101: + return val + 1; + case 103: + case 104: + return val + 3; + case 105: + return val + 5; + default: + return val + 6; + } +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/start.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/start.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a875ace --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/start.c @@ -0,0 +1,8 @@ +int is_even(long); + +void _start(void) { + asm volatile( + "syscall" + : /* no output */ + : "a" (0x3c), "D" (is_even(42))); +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-a.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-a.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b0fb36 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-a.c @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +#include + +char *somestr(void); + +int main(void) { + char *s = somestr(); + s[5] = '\0'; + puts(s); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-b.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-b.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..50101cb --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/str-b.c @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +#include +#include + +char *somestr(void) { + char *buf = malloc(sizeof("Hello, world!")); + strcpy(buf, "Hello, world!"); + return buf; +} + diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista8/swap.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/swap.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1966fd --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista8/swap.c @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +extern int buf[]; + +int *bufp0 = &buf[0]; +static int *bufp1; + +static void incr() { + static int count = 0; + count++; +} + +void swap() { + int temp; + incr(); + bufp1 = &buf[1]; + temp = *bufp0; + *bufp0 = *bufp1; + *bufp1 = temp; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/gadget.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/gadget.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d60a63 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/gadget.s @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ + .global gadget + + .text + +# rax: 0x3c +# rdi: 0 +# rdx: {NULL, ...} +# rsi: path + '\n' +gadget: + dec %rax # rax: 0x3c -> 0x3b (sys_execve) + mov %rdx, %rsi # rsi: argv = {NULL} + mov %rdi, %rdx # rdx: envp = NULL + lea 16(%rsp),%rdi # rdi: path + ret + +# vim: ft=gas diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lazy.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lazy.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb08cf7 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lazy.c @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +#include + +int main(void) { + puts("first time"); + puts("second time"); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lista_9.tgz b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lista_9.tgz new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e5c6f4 Binary files /dev/null and b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/lista_9.tgz differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/relo3.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/relo3.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6aca7b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/relo3.c @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +int relo3(int val) { + switch (val) { + case 100: + return val; + case 101: + return val + 1; + case 103: + case 104: + return val + 3; + case 105: + return val + 5; + default: + return val + 6; + } +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbeae12 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.c @@ -0,0 +1,31 @@ +#include +#include +#include + +/* Get string from stdin */ +void readline(FILE *in, char *p) { + int c; + while (true) { + c = fgetc(in); + if (c == EOF || c == '\n') + break; + *p++ = c; + } + *p = '\0'; +} + +void echo(FILE *in) { + char buf[48]; + readline(in, buf); + puts(buf); +} + +int main(int argc, char *argv[]) { + FILE *in = NULL; + if (argc == 2) + in = fopen(argv[1], "rb"); + if (in == NULL) + in = stdin; + echo(in); + return 0; +} diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in (1).txt b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in (1).txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..902773e --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in (1).txt @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +00000000: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000010: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000020: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000030: dead c0de dead c0de 731c 4000 0000 0000 ................ +00000040: f422 4000 0000 0000 0000 0000 0000 0000 ................ +00000050: 2f75 7372 2f62 696e 2f70 7974 686f 6e32 /usr/bin/python2 +00000060: 000a ................ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in.txt b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8deabfe --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.in.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +00000000: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000010: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000020: dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de dead c0de ................ +00000030: dead c0de dead c0de 671d 4000 0000 0000 ................ +00000040: 8e44 4900 0000 0000 0000 0000 0000 0000 ................ +00000050: 2f75 7372 2f62 696e 2f6e 7961 6e63 6174 /usr/bin/nyancat +00000060: 000a ................ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.map b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.map new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4bd12a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/ropex.map @@ -0,0 +1,511 @@ +Archive member included to satisfy reference by file (symbol) + +/usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o (__libc_csu_init) + +Merging program properties + +Removed property 0xc0000002 to merge /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o (0x3) and gadget.o (not found) +Removed property 0xc0000002 to merge /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o (not found) and /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) (0x3) +Removed property 0xc0000002 to merge /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o (not found) and /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o (0x3) +Removed property 0xc0000002 to merge /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o (not found) and /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o (0x3) + +As-needed library included to satisfy reference by file (symbol) + +libc.so.6 ropex.o (fopen@@GLIBC_2.2.5) + +Discarded input sections + + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 ropex.o + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 ropex.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + .note.gnu.property + 0x0000000000000000 0x20 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + .note.GNU-stack + 0x0000000000000000 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + +Memory Configuration + +Name Origin Length Attributes +*default* 0x0000000000000000 0xffffffffffffffff + +Linker script and memory map + +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o +LOAD ropex.o +LOAD gadget.o +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc.a +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc_s.so +START GROUP +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/libgcc_s.so.1 +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc.a +END GROUP +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/libc.so +START GROUP +LOAD /lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc.so.6 +LOAD /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a +LOAD /lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/ld-linux-x86-64.so.2 +END GROUP +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc.a +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc_s.so +START GROUP +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/libgcc_s.so.1 +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/libgcc.a +END GROUP +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o +LOAD /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + [!provide] PROVIDE (__executable_start = SEGMENT_START ("text-segment", 0x0)) + 0x00000000000002a8 . = (SEGMENT_START ("text-segment", 0x0) + SIZEOF_HEADERS) + 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*(.gnu.version) + .gnu.version 0x00000000000004e8 0x16 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + +.gnu.version_d 0x0000000000000500 0x0 + *(.gnu.version_d) + .gnu.version_d + 0x0000000000000500 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + +.gnu.version_r 0x0000000000000500 0x30 + *(.gnu.version_r) + .gnu.version_r + 0x0000000000000500 0x30 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + +.rela.dyn 0x0000000000000530 0xd8 + *(.rela.init) + *(.rela.text .rela.text.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.t.*) + .rela.text 0x0000000000000530 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.rela.fini) + *(.rela.rodata .rela.rodata.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.r.*) + *(.rela.data .rela.data.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.d.*) + .rela.data.rel.ro + 0x0000000000000530 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .rela.data.rel.local + 0x0000000000000530 0x18 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.rela.tdata .rela.tdata.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.td.*) + *(.rela.tbss .rela.tbss.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.tb.*) + *(.rela.ctors) + *(.rela.dtors) + *(.rela.got) + .rela.got 0x0000000000000548 0x78 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.rela.bss .rela.bss.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.b.*) + .rela.bss 0x00000000000005c0 0x18 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.rela.ldata .rela.ldata.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.l.*) + *(.rela.lbss .rela.lbss.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.lb.*) + *(.rela.lrodata .rela.lrodata.* .rela.gnu.linkonce.lr.*) + *(.rela.ifunc) + .rela.ifunc 0x00000000000005d8 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .rela.fini_array + 0x00000000000005d8 0x18 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .rela.init_array + 0x00000000000005f0 0x18 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + +.rela.plt 0x0000000000000608 0x60 + *(.rela.plt) + .rela.plt 0x0000000000000608 0x60 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.rela.iplt) + 0x0000000000001000 . = ALIGN (CONSTANT (MAXPAGESIZE)) + +.init 0x0000000000001000 0x1b + *(SORT_NONE(.init)) + .init 0x0000000000001000 0x16 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + 0x0000000000001000 _init + .init 0x0000000000001016 0x5 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + +.plt 0x0000000000001020 0x50 + *(.plt) + .plt 0x0000000000001020 0x50 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000001030 puts@@GLIBC_2.2.5 + 0x0000000000001040 __stack_chk_fail@@GLIBC_2.4 + 0x0000000000001050 fgetc@@GLIBC_2.2.5 + 0x0000000000001060 fopen@@GLIBC_2.2.5 + *(.iplt) + +.plt.got 0x0000000000001070 0x8 + *(.plt.got) + .plt.got 0x0000000000001070 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000001070 __cxa_finalize@@GLIBC_2.2.5 + +.plt.sec + *(.plt.sec) + +.text 0x0000000000001080 0x235 + *(.text.unlikely .text.*_unlikely .text.unlikely.*) + *(.text.exit .text.exit.*) + *(.text.startup .text.startup.*) + *(.text.hot .text.hot.*) + *(SORT_BY_NAME(.text.sorted.*)) + *(.text .stub .text.* .gnu.linkonce.t.*) + .text 0x0000000000001080 0x2f /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000001080 _start + .text 0x00000000000010af 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + *fill* 0x00000000000010af 0x1 + .text 0x00000000000010b0 0xb9 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + .text 0x0000000000001169 0xbb ropex.o + 0x0000000000001169 readline + 0x00000000000011a3 echo + 0x00000000000011e7 main + .text 0x0000000000001224 0xf gadget.o + 0x0000000000001224 gadget + *fill* 0x0000000000001233 0xd + .text 0x0000000000001240 0x75 /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + 0x0000000000001240 __libc_csu_init + 0x00000000000012b0 __libc_csu_fini + .text 0x00000000000012b5 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + .text 0x00000000000012b5 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + *(.gnu.warning) + +.fini 0x00000000000012b8 0xd + *(SORT_NONE(.fini)) + .fini 0x00000000000012b8 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + 0x00000000000012b8 _fini + .fini 0x00000000000012c0 0x5 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + [!provide] PROVIDE (__etext = .) + [!provide] PROVIDE (_etext = .) + [!provide] PROVIDE (etext = .) + 0x0000000000002000 . = ALIGN (CONSTANT (MAXPAGESIZE)) + 0x0000000000002000 . = SEGMENT_START ("rodata-segment", (ALIGN (CONSTANT (MAXPAGESIZE)) + (. & (CONSTANT (MAXPAGESIZE) - 0x1)))) + +.rodata 0x0000000000002000 0x7 + *(.rodata .rodata.* .gnu.linkonce.r.*) + .rodata.cst4 0x0000000000002000 0x4 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000002000 _IO_stdin_used + .rodata.str1.1 + 0x0000000000002004 0x3 ropex.o + +.rodata1 + *(.rodata1) + +.eh_frame_hdr 0x0000000000002008 0x34 + *(.eh_frame_hdr) + .eh_frame_hdr 0x0000000000002008 0x34 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000002008 __GNU_EH_FRAME_HDR + *(.eh_frame_entry .eh_frame_entry.*) + +.eh_frame 0x0000000000002040 0xd0 + *(.eh_frame) + .eh_frame 0x0000000000002040 0x30 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x2c (size before relaxing) + *fill* 0x0000000000002070 0x0 + .eh_frame 0x0000000000002070 0x28 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x40 (size before relaxing) + .eh_frame 0x0000000000002098 0x18 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x30 (size before relaxing) + .eh_frame 0x00000000000020b0 0x5c /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + 0x78 (size before relaxing) + .eh_frame 0x000000000000210c 0x4 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + *(.eh_frame.*) + +.gcc_except_table + *(.gcc_except_table .gcc_except_table.*) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab*) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges*) + 0x0000000000003da0 . = DATA_SEGMENT_ALIGN (CONSTANT (MAXPAGESIZE), CONSTANT (COMMONPAGESIZE)) + +.eh_frame + *(.eh_frame) + *(.eh_frame.*) + +.gnu_extab + *(.gnu_extab) + +.gcc_except_table + *(.gcc_except_table .gcc_except_table.*) + +.exception_ranges + *(.exception_ranges*) + +.tdata 0x0000000000003da0 0x0 + [!provide] PROVIDE (__tdata_start = .) + *(.tdata .tdata.* .gnu.linkonce.td.*) + +.tbss + *(.tbss .tbss.* .gnu.linkonce.tb.*) + *(.tcommon) + +.preinit_array 0x0000000000003da0 0x0 + [!provide] PROVIDE (__preinit_array_start = .) + *(.preinit_array) + [!provide] PROVIDE (__preinit_array_end = .) + +.init_array 0x0000000000003da0 0x8 + 0x0000000000003da0 PROVIDE (__init_array_start = .) + *(SORT_BY_INIT_PRIORITY(.init_array.*) SORT_BY_INIT_PRIORITY(.ctors.*)) + *(.init_array EXCLUDE_FILE(*crtend?.o *crtend.o *crtbegin?.o *crtbegin.o) .ctors) + .init_array 0x0000000000003da0 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + 0x0000000000003da8 PROVIDE (__init_array_end = .) + +.fini_array 0x0000000000003da8 0x8 + [!provide] PROVIDE (__fini_array_start = .) + *(SORT_BY_INIT_PRIORITY(.fini_array.*) SORT_BY_INIT_PRIORITY(.dtors.*)) + *(.fini_array EXCLUDE_FILE(*crtend?.o *crtend.o *crtbegin?.o *crtbegin.o) .dtors) + .fini_array 0x0000000000003da8 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + [!provide] PROVIDE (__fini_array_end = .) + +.ctors + *crtbegin.o(.ctors) + *crtbegin?.o(.ctors) + *(EXCLUDE_FILE(*crtend?.o *crtend.o) .ctors) + *(SORT_BY_NAME(.ctors.*)) + *(.ctors) + +.dtors + *crtbegin.o(.dtors) + *crtbegin?.o(.dtors) + *(EXCLUDE_FILE(*crtend?.o *crtend.o) .dtors) + *(SORT_BY_NAME(.dtors.*)) + *(.dtors) + +.jcr + *(.jcr) + +.data.rel.ro 0x0000000000003db0 0x0 + *(.data.rel.ro.local* .gnu.linkonce.d.rel.ro.local.*) + *(.data.rel.ro .data.rel.ro.* .gnu.linkonce.d.rel.ro.*) + .data.rel.ro 0x0000000000003db0 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + +.dynamic 0x0000000000003db0 0x1f0 + *(.dynamic) + .dynamic 0x0000000000003db0 0x1f0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000003db0 _DYNAMIC + +.got 0x0000000000003fa0 0x60 + *(.got.plt) + .got.plt 0x0000000000003fa0 0x38 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000003fa0 _GLOBAL_OFFSET_TABLE_ + *(.igot.plt) + *(.got) + .got 0x0000000000003fd8 0x28 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + *(.igot) + 0x0000000000004000 . = DATA_SEGMENT_RELRO_END (., 0x0) + +.data 0x0000000000004000 0x10 + *(.data .data.* .gnu.linkonce.d.*) + .data 0x0000000000004000 0x4 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000004000 data_start + 0x0000000000004000 __data_start + .data 0x0000000000004004 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + .data 0x0000000000004004 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + *fill* 0x0000000000004004 0x4 + .data.rel.local + 0x0000000000004008 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + 0x0000000000004008 __dso_handle + .data 0x0000000000004010 0x0 ropex.o + .data 0x0000000000004010 0x0 gadget.o + .data 0x0000000000004010 0x0 /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + .data 0x0000000000004010 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + .data 0x0000000000004010 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + +.tm_clone_table + 0x0000000000004010 0x0 + .tm_clone_table + 0x0000000000004010 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + .tm_clone_table + 0x0000000000004010 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + +.data1 + *(.data1) + 0x0000000000004010 _edata = . + [!provide] PROVIDE (edata = .) + 0x0000000000004010 . = . + 0x0000000000004010 __bss_start = . + +.bss 0x0000000000004010 0x10 + *(.dynbss) + *fill* 0x0000000000004010 0x0 + .dynbss 0x0000000000004010 0x8 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + 0x0000000000004010 stdin@@GLIBC_2.2.5 + *(.bss .bss.* .gnu.linkonce.b.*) + .bss 0x0000000000004018 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/Scrt1.o + .bss 0x0000000000004018 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crti.o + .bss 0x0000000000004018 0x1 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + .bss 0x0000000000004019 0x0 ropex.o + .bss 0x0000000000004019 0x0 gadget.o + .bss 0x0000000000004019 0x0 /usr/lib/x86_64-linux-gnu/libc_nonshared.a(elf-init.oS) + .bss 0x0000000000004019 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + .bss 0x0000000000004019 0x0 /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/../../../x86_64-linux-gnu/crtn.o + *(COMMON) + 0x0000000000004020 . = ALIGN ((. != 0x0)?0x8:0x1) + *fill* 0x0000000000004019 0x7 + +.lbss + *(.dynlbss) + *(.lbss .lbss.* .gnu.linkonce.lb.*) + *(LARGE_COMMON) + 0x0000000000004020 . = ALIGN (0x8) + 0x0000000000004020 . = SEGMENT_START ("ldata-segment", .) + +.lrodata + *(.lrodata .lrodata.* .gnu.linkonce.lr.*) + +.ldata 0x0000000000006020 0x0 + *(.ldata .ldata.* .gnu.linkonce.l.*) + 0x0000000000006020 . = ALIGN ((. != 0x0)?0x8:0x1) + 0x0000000000006020 . = ALIGN (0x8) + 0x0000000000004020 _end = . + [!provide] PROVIDE (end = .) + 0x0000000000006020 . = DATA_SEGMENT_END (.) + +.stab + *(.stab) + +.stabstr + *(.stabstr) + +.stab.excl + *(.stab.excl) + +.stab.exclstr + *(.stab.exclstr) + +.stab.index + *(.stab.index) + +.stab.indexstr + *(.stab.indexstr) + +.comment 0x0000000000000000 0x2a + *(.comment) + .comment 0x0000000000000000 0x2a /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtbeginS.o + 0x2b (size before relaxing) + .comment 0x000000000000002a 0x2b ropex.o + .comment 0x000000000000002a 0x2b /usr/lib/gcc/x86_64-linux-gnu/9/crtendS.o + +.gnu.build.attributes + *(.gnu.build.attributes .gnu.build.attributes.*) + +.debug + *(.debug) + +.line + *(.line) + +.debug_srcinfo + *(.debug_srcinfo) + +.debug_sfnames + *(.debug_sfnames) + +.debug_aranges 0x0000000000000000 0x30 + *(.debug_aranges) + .debug_aranges + 0x0000000000000000 0x30 ropex.o + +.debug_pubnames + *(.debug_pubnames) + +.debug_info 0x0000000000000000 0x49e + *(.debug_info .gnu.linkonce.wi.*) + .debug_info 0x0000000000000000 0x49e ropex.o + +.debug_abbrev 0x0000000000000000 0x19b + *(.debug_abbrev) + .debug_abbrev 0x0000000000000000 0x19b ropex.o + +.debug_line 0x0000000000000000 0x188 + *(.debug_line .debug_line.* .debug_line_end) + .debug_line 0x0000000000000000 0x188 ropex.o + +.debug_frame 0x0000000000000000 0xa8 + *(.debug_frame) + .debug_frame 0x0000000000000000 0xa8 ropex.o + +.debug_str 0x0000000000000000 0x2f4 + *(.debug_str) + .debug_str 0x0000000000000000 0x2f4 ropex.o + 0x333 (size before relaxing) + +.debug_loc 0x0000000000000000 0x254 + *(.debug_loc) + .debug_loc 0x0000000000000000 0x254 ropex.o + +.debug_macinfo + *(.debug_macinfo) + +.debug_weaknames + *(.debug_weaknames) + +.debug_funcnames + *(.debug_funcnames) + +.debug_typenames + *(.debug_typenames) + +.debug_varnames + *(.debug_varnames) + +.debug_pubtypes + *(.debug_pubtypes) + +.debug_ranges + *(.debug_ranges) + +.debug_macro + *(.debug_macro) + +.debug_addr + *(.debug_addr) + +.gnu.attributes + *(.gnu.attributes) + +/DISCARD/ + *(.note.GNU-stack) + *(.gnu_debuglink) + *(.gnu.lto_*) +OUTPUT(ropex elf64-x86-64) diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.c b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1dae111 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.c @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +void foobar() {} + +static const struct { + char a[3]; int b; long c; float pi; +} baz = { "abc", 42, -3, 1.4142 }; + +long array[100]; \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.s b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.s new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e60585 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/lista9/test.s @@ -0,0 +1,50 @@ + .file "test.c" + .text + .globl foobar + .type foobar, @function +foobar: +.LFB0: + .cfi_startproc + endbr64 + pushq %rbp + .cfi_def_cfa_offset 16 + .cfi_offset 6, -16 + movq %rsp, %rbp + .cfi_def_cfa_register 6 + nop + popq %rbp + .cfi_def_cfa 7, 8 + ret + .cfi_endproc +.LFE0: + .size foobar, .-foobar + .section .rodata + .align 16 + .type baz, @object + .size baz, 24 +baz: + .ascii "abc" + .zero 1 + .long 42 + .quad -3 + .long 1068827777 + .zero 4 + .comm array,800,32 + .ident "GCC: (Ubuntu 9.3.0-17ubuntu1~20.04) 9.3.0" + .section .note.GNU-stack,"",@progbits + .section .note.gnu.property,"a" + .align 8 + .long 1f - 0f + .long 4f - 1f + .long 5 +0: + .string "GNU" +1: + .align 8 + .long 0xc0000002 + .long 3f - 2f +2: + .long 0x3 +3: + .align 8 +4: diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-05-machine-basics.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-05-machine-basics.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee8e221 Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-05-machine-basics.pdf" differ diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-06-machine-control.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-06-machine-control.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b847b14 Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-06-machine-control.pdf" differ diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-07-machine-procedures.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-07-machine-procedures.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..61cb028 Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/ask21-07-machine-procedures.pdf" differ diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/hackersdelight.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/hackersdelight.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f0003f Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/hackersdelight.pdf" differ diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x64_cheatsheet.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x64_cheatsheet.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3133054 Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x64_cheatsheet.pdf" differ diff --git "a/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x86-64-psABI-1.0.pdf" "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x86-64-psABI-1.0.pdf" new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a5a923 Binary files /dev/null and "b/semestr-4/ask/materia\305\202y/x86-64-psABI-1.0.pdf" differ diff --git a/semestr-4/ask/zadanie1/rozw.c b/semestr-4/ask/zadanie1/rozw.c new file mode 100644 index 0000000..068a268 --- /dev/null +++ b/semestr-4/ask/zadanie1/rozw.c @@ -0,0 +1,21 @@ +#include +#include + +const uint64_t C[] = { + 0x5555555555555555LL, + 0x3333333333333333LL, + 0x0f0f0f0f0f0f0f0fLL, + 0x00ff00ff00ff00ffLL, + 0x0000ffff0000ffffLL, + 0x00000000ffffffffLL +}; + +uint64_t revbits(uint64_t x) { + x = ((x & C[0]) << 1) | ((x >> 1) & C[0]); + x = ((x & C[1]) << 2) | ((x >> 2) & C[1]); + x = ((x & C[2]) << 4) | ((x >> 4) & C[2]); + x = ((x & C[3]) << 8) | ((x >> 8) & C[3]); + x = ((x & C[4]) << 16) | ((x >> 16) & C[4]); + x = ((x & C[5]) << 32) | ((x >> 32) & C[5]); + return x; +} \ No newline at end of file -- cgit v1.2.3